Eh

Turns out I'm not dead. I know, right? Had you worried, I bet. It's not like me to disappear from the interwebs for such an extended period of time and I'm very sorry and ready to receive my spankings.

I'd like to say that I was doing something fun, but the truth is that I wasn't. Well, sort of was. But not really. Nothing new or interesting anyway. Faire is still going strong, despite the drowning rain (Hi? We live in Arizona? What. The. Fuck. Mother Nature?) and while many amusing things have occurred (and some UNAMUSING like being asked if the baby I was holding was my FUCKING GRANDCHILD!) you sort of have to be there. Or be a giant nerd. Possibly both.

Also, (and I fully accept that this particular line of whining is growing redundant and also isn't amusing) they've changed my medications AGAIN. As a result, I'm sleeping like hell and that makes me wicked cranky. Literally. When I'm not being unpleasant I am indifferent. Thereby leaving me with out stories to tell you about my hilarious hijinks. Or, you know, whatever the hell else it is that I'm meant to be doing.

It's possible that you'll not hear much from me for a time while they sort out my meds so that I will 1) not kill anyone and 2) care if someone attempts to kill me. Honestly, right now I struggle to give a shit about ANYTHING, so I'm sort of focusing on that whole breathing thing. Turns out if you don't you turn all blue. Then I'd clash with my lipstick and that wouldn't do. So. Yeah. Breathing. I'm going to be working on that.

On one hand, not caring is a bit awesome. People screaming at me? Eh. Spill coffee on brand new white shirt? Eh. Favorite CD scratched? Eh. On the other hand though? Sucks. Balls. Nothing is funny. Nothing is not funny. Nothing....is. I guess. You'd think considering the number of years that I've enjoyed a relationship with drugs designed to alter my mental state (recreational and otherwise, obviously) I'd be used to this whole cycle of new drugs making things go all wonky. But I'm not. I'd be upset, but I don't care. I know I SHOULD be upset. I understand that the proper reaction is to be upset, but I can't bring myself to actually BE upset. Does that make any sense? It's like I'm standing here with a set of stage directions Kiki watched a sad movie that made her cry, sniffling, she clutched the damp tissue to her chest in distress. While I can understand, intellectually, that this is the way a normal person would react, I am not reacting that way. It's a bit scary. Or, you know, should be.

Anyhoodle, this is a super long post about nothing (you're welcome) when I could have said in two sentences, I'm not dead; I'm just boring. Come back later.