(no subject)

Tonight--this morning--I am fidgety and awake, whether from anxiety or generic zoloft or illness or cold meds, I'm not sure. Maybe it's a combination of all of the above. I binged on chocolate graham crackers and milk--old, bad habits die hard, I guess. Now, in the aftermath of that, I'm not sure if I feel better or worse. Fuller, in any case, I suppose.

I can't put my finger on the root cause of it, either. I suspect that being sick does decrease my serotonin levels somehow--I've noticed issues with this before--but this is less depression and more just a foot-tapping, mindracing unease that I can't seem to shake.

I think some of it is from financial worry, some of it is the rejected job. Some of it is the overbooked weekend and logistics challenges, both during the weekend and before. Some of it is Daniel's birthday coming with nothing concrete planned for it - the party will be here, but that's about all I know.

I'm tired but not sleepy. I keep hoping that words will make it better, but they don't.

Best wishes to a cat whose spirit left this world today. Safe journeys, Spud. Thank you for all that you brought to my friend's life.

That's all for now, I guess.

(no subject)

Well, me hardies, it be long since I writ a word er two in this accursed log. Too much grog an' too little time fer thinkin' makes fer a happy pirate, aye. Seas be calm fer now, and that be all ye can say, seein' as how the weather's apt t'change afore ye know it. Aye, that be both metaphor and not, as Adrienne Rich be fond o' sayin' in her pirate poem, "Storm Warnings." Aye, weather abroad 'n' weather in th' heart alike come on, regardless o' what ye be fond o' predictin'.

Still, there be booty in th' hold an grog in me glass; me beard be gray but me arm an' me plank be as hard/y as ever. I be content, 'cept when not. Months pass, and sometimes th' breeze be blowin' o'er the bow and ye look an' there be th' sun, gold like a piece o'eight and ringed perfect. When it happens, ye best be yellin', "Land ho!" Not 'cause there be land in sight--nay, just 'cause it be fun wreakin' havoc with the crew fer a salty sun sea dog like me'self. 'Specially after a mite o' good rum.

So, leave th' tilt o' the deck under me feet and the spray in me beard and th' glass in me hand - for I be a pirate now and alway, an' ne'er you mind th' scamps an' scalawags an' thieves about. That be what make it all worth doin', fer any pirate worth his salt.

Pretty pictures in me head? Aye. Still there, mate. Dreams be alive...but it be work keepin' this boat afloat.

(no subject)

Jack Sparrow's (mostly) loyal first mate, you spend most of your time fishing your captain out of trouble-- or fishing yourself out of whatever trouble your captain's gotten you into this time. The proverbial old salt, you've seen and heard just about everything there is during your time at sea, and you always have a story or two up your sleeve, especially when the films require some helpful expository dialogue.

Which Pirates of The Caribbean Character Are You?
Find out at Shiver My Timber-- A Pirate RPG