Okay. There was no excuse for today's earlier post. And why haven't I yet mastered the language English?

I keep thinking I have something to say, but every time I try to post, I can't. It happens sometimes. Too many emotions, too deep to express. They are probably better off never reaching the surface in the first place. I am tired. I want to sleep. Won't solve anything, but maybe I'll feel less...drained.

Many of my Facebook friends have been making daily lists of what they're thankful for. They'll probably stop now that Thanksgiving is finally here and for this I am grateful. Their cheeriness was becoming irksome.

I've been rereading nwhepcat's Kindred Spirits. I'd forgotten how much I love this one, flist. It's wonderful.

Feels like forever since I posted. Illness is no fun, droogies, no fun at all. I'm gonna come out against it.

In less than two weeks we'll be heading to MA to celebrate Christmas with the in-laws a month early, as is our tradition, which means I gotta get on the ball and shop like mad. Also means I need to start thinking about Christmas cards, because 2008's attempt was an epic fail. How terrible would it be to send out the cards I wrote but never sent from last year? Nothing much has changed. Heh. I could even completely cheat and use the kid photo from last year too. Who'd know the difference?

I am dying to join in on the Buffy/Giles Christmas exchange thingy, but I'm too much of a commitment-phobe after my summer_of_giles fiasco. Plus, I've literally spent 6 weeks out of the past 10 completely done in by my lung woez. What. The. Heck. How can I promise anything when I'm in a constant state of anoxia?

Oh and London is proving difficult to visit if you have a family of five. Apparently, the hotels there only seem to want you to have two kids. And the week before Easter? Busy, busy. It's gonna be rough finding something decent. I think I'm gonna have break down and use a travel agent. Do those even exist any more?

Have I ever mentioned how much I dislike the fans on Tony Head's facebook page? I was telling my husband that I think they're nutty, and he said, "You mean they're the kind of people who would fly their families over to London to see him in a play?" Er, yeah, I guess.

Husband's sick with the swine flu. Poor baby is suffering so. Why aren't we healthier? Maybe we have some secret stash of black mold growing somewhere beneath the basement paneling. Or maybe we need to cleanse our bodies of all the bad toxins that have built up from all the Wonder Bread we've consumed over the course of our lifetimes. Bleached flour is the devil's handiwork, I hear.

We've been watching loads of Buffy over the past few days and it's made me want to improve my writing more than ever. Show deserves so much more than my butchery attempts at fanfic, I think.

Seriously ill. Again. Have written stern memo to health gods. Am still awaiting response. *cough* *cough*

Casting's been announced for Six Degrees!

Happy Birthday, froxyn! I hope you're having a great day!

My sister said I sounded way harsh yesterday, but I cannot bring myself to read back over last night's post, though I'm sure she's right. I do have a tendency to use strong language easily. I'm learning to tone down my rhetoric, but really, to me they're just words. I like passion. I dig hyperbole. Sometimes I go a little overboard, I guess.

What else? Um, walked a couple of miles today. Planned on doing more exercise, but I just ran out of time. Where does the day go? I'm going to have to learn to budget more efficiently. The more disciplined I am, the happier I become. Of course, I ended up blowing off writing, but I'm just learning balance, so I don't think I'll beat myself up too much for that. This growing up is tricky stuff.

Oh, I had an awful thought tonight: what if Tony is playing Geoffrey instead of Flan in Six Degrees? He could have a fairly small part. I'd still like to take my kids to England, but would I rush to see him in a supporting role? Hm. Dunno. Why haven't we heard yet?

So, I impulsively joined Weight Watchers this morning. I'll still look like shit by the time I go to England this spring, but I figure if I can possibly feel a little less disgusting when I go, it'll be worth it. My plan was to weigh in and leave, but the place was small, and I felt compelled to stay for the meeting. The leader seemed all right, so I sat there listening, excited at the prospect of taking control of my life, but after ten, fifteen minutes, my mood began to sink.

I'd forgotten why I hate Weight Watchers. The leaders and the members always say the stupidest things. How can I get with a program when so much of the what they say tout is so wrong? I have no patience for bad science, yet as they go on and on spewing misinformation, it takes all of my effort not to argue with them.

At the end of the meeting, the floor is open for people to share and one woman got up and made a little speech about how God led her to WW, yada yada. This would have been fine if the leader hadn't then joined in with, "God works in mysterious ways." After all, He spared her husband's life on 9/11. For years her husband would ask her, "Why didn't God take me that day?" and on the day they adopted their children, she turned to him and said, "This is why - God wanted you to raise these children." It kills me to hear people say things like that, because it's so outrageously insensitive, considering the thousands of poor folks God didn't choose to spare that day. I left depressed. We humans are so fucked up.

I am writing, writing, hoping to stick to my secret self-imposed deadlines, trying to keep my inner critic safely hidden away inside its box.

Hubby and I took in Zombieland this afternoon. We both needed some time away from the house and our beloved children. Bloody movie, but really, what did we expect? I liked it much better than Shaun of the Dead, which frightened me more than I care to admit. Not enough yuks to balance the fear factor in that one, but ZL was different. Still, I regressed a bit after the film ended and made my husband reassure me there was no way zombies could ever ever happen in real life. And he did, without even cracking a smile. He's good like that.

In fact, he's such an awesome fellow, he's practically already booked our trip to London to see Tony Head in Six Degrees. We're thinking end of March would probably be the best time for us to go. Spring break comes early this year and the last week of the production would work out well, though I tell you, flist, I honestly feel sick to my stomach at the thought of going. I'm not sure I can force myself to get back on a plane. And I can pretty much guarantee I will die of embarrassment if I stand waiting by the stage door for an autograph. I never relish the role of fan. Makes me feel like a complete dick, but how could I possibly travel all that way and not give in to my inner squee? Man, I tells you, I am about the furthest thing from cool that exists in the entire universe. If we're really doing this, it is gonna be a long five months.

Another batch of cotton candy served up by Merlin's writers this week - yummy, but hardly satisfying. O tv gods, why can't I just be happy with what I get? Farting jokes are all well and good, but I think I'd prefer the show if it were edgier. Maybe a little more like Rome. Whaddaya think, flist, Pullo and Vorenus lopping off body parts in King Uthur's Court? It could work.

Why does coming up with five classic stories for buffyversetop5 feel like too much trouble? Supreme laziness? I could probably whip a list together lickety-splickety, too. I really shouldn't blow it off. The authors deserve as much recognition as they can get.

I'm so exhausted, every inch of me aches. I think I need to start taking speed. That'll cure what ails me.

Head's gonna be in a play soon. He promises to let us know all about it on his website tomorrow. I already feel tempted to fly the whole family over to London to see it, but I know that's just insane. Please tell me that sounds insane. Thing is, he does theater so infrequently. It's not like Patrick Stewart who you're guaranteed to see on B'way every couple of years. Oh well, don't know why I worry about it; I'm sure my fear of flying and fundamental inertia will keep me grounded, even if my silly schoolgirl crush will not.

I'm attempting to revive my poor, dead, prawny Dawnie story this morning. Thank heavens I've learned to interpret my intrepid beta-reader's carefully worded and occasionally vague comments well enough to know when she's politely saying, "This is crap." I'll be forever in her debt for not letting this one out of the gate early. Would have been disastrous. I'm not sure this piece is even worth a second chance, but since my other WIPs are giving me fits, I figure, what the heck. I can't hurt it.

I came across this bit of questionable feminism on the web this morning. The writer contends that all porn is rape, because consent doesn't exist in the industry. Can't say I agree, although this New Yorker article about a woman who works to free the numerous Eastern European women forced into the sex-slave trade makes me wonder if some of the people you see on the internet are these poor women. That's a seriously disturbing thought, but to say all porn is non-con is just plain silly.

Ah, enough of this fun. Gotta figure out how to make Dawn's sexual awakening story lighter, and less clomp-clompy and disturbing.

Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, you are forever stuck in dopey Disney mode, but tonight you've given me enough Anthony Head to make me happy, so I forgive you. Think I need to watch Buffy now to get everything I want - Anthony Head and wonderful storytelling. The only thing missing'll be sexy period costumes. Just need Giles dressed in a frilly pirate shirt to make my fantasy complete. :)

Hm. I think the reason I'm not loving fandom_secrets is that I don't really understand why most of the posts are considered secrets in the first place. I pretty much just say whatever stupid shit is on my mind. Not really necessary to make a special site for honesty, is there?

I am ashamed how much I missed Merlin last week, considering it's one of the dumbest shows I have ever loved. I would give anything to see the writing kicked up a notch. It's like enjoying fanfic - an inexplicable pleasure, regardless of its quality.

I'm on Dexter overload. For days, I'd been pleased to have something new and interesting to watch, but I'm beginning to tire of it. The show is great, but probably needs to be taken in bite-sized chunks instead of feasted on for hours on end. I think I might have only been watching like crazy because I ship Lundy/Deb so hard. My older man/younger woman mentor/student fetish is nicely titillated, but hardly satisfied by their on-screen shenanigans. Moar plz!

I've been rereading lots of old fic over the past two days. I'm sad that so many Buffy writers have found their way to other fandoms now. It's cool they're into new stuff, but I wish they'd still dabble in the old now and then.

I guess it was inevitable. Someone I went to school with and haven't spoken to since about second grade has asked to be my friend on facebook. I'm sure she's a lovely person, but I really do not want to have to friend her back, though I probably will. I hate to be rude. She's one of those people with nearly 500 friends - you know, a collector. The box is getting smaller. Soon I won't be able to feel free to post a thing there.

Our rabbit died today. We got him used and had him for five years ourselves, so I'm guessing he was at least 6 or 7 years old. Sweetest rodenty-type creature I've ever known. Every day, he'd sleep stretched out with his eyes wide open. I'd call to him or rattle his cage or watch carefully to see if he was still breathing, and every day he was, until today. It's weird, because we all really loved him, yet were not at all surprised - we were so used to thinking, "Oh my God, Max is dead," that when he finally was, we had already come to terms with our impending loss.

Took a long time to dig his grave. We had to choose a place where Guthrie couldn't accidentally dig him up, and the only out of the way spot was filled with giant tree roots. Tough to get through. My daughter helped dig once my back starting killing, and then my husband came home and had to finish the rest. Ugh! But we finally got him into the ground and said our goodbyes. :(

My husband and I have been watching Dexter, which, as it turns out, is a really good show as long as I avoid any seriously disturbing images. The camera usually cuts away at the bad parts and the killings are quick, so I can handle it. We've been watching them out of order and right now Keith Carradine is guesting. I have to say I'm finding him unbearably sexy. Ooh, and I have a mad serious girlcrush on Jennifer Carpenter. I love her quirky good looks, and the cursing? Oh yeah. She's just the grooviest.

Repairman came. Nothing is fixed. He ordered parts, charged me $200, then said he'd be back sometime after the part is delivered. How long can I live without a dryer? Hmm. Think I'll view this as an experiment.

Kids are troubling me these days. I won't bore you with the details, although they make me want to weep and scream and quit my day job, but I am holding it together. For their sake.

Writing hates me. I am going to take a tip from the Philip Pullman's Dark Materials Advice Column and try to get through three pages a day, just as the master heself doos. What the hell. Nothing else works.

I've been twittering and facebooking on a fairly regular basis, which seems to fulfill some of the compulsive need I have to share random thoughts randomly. I'm now spreading it out, so it's not all just dumped on you. (You're welcome!) Ooh, and I did have a teensy-tiny, squee-worthy encounter with Anthony Head on one of the sites that is hardly worth noting (it is so small it is on par with having said "gesundheit" after hearing him sneeze), but I will share this: "Tee hee hee hee hee!"

Secret: When Tony posts on facebook that he's sorry he hasn't been there in a while and a whole pile of people write to him and say, "No problem, we understand, you have a life" yada yada yada, it takes all of my effort not to amuse myself by writing something completely snarky and obnoxious back. I'd think that was funny if I were him, especially in light of all the vomitus fawning his fans lay on him, but I'm sure it would just upset everyone there and I'd get myself kicked off his friend's list permanently, which would kinda suck.

fandomsecrets is the stupidest site I have ever, ever followed on livejournal.

Secret: I worry that I only think this because I have no idea who any of the characters they're talking about are.

One of my nephews seems to have found God. Why does this depress me? You work so hard to raise 'em right...

Broke down and scheduled a repairman to come check out my dryer. Even if it costs a couple hundred dollars to fix, it's still cheaper than replacing. Plus, I'll feel a whole lot less guilty if I'm not adding to the landfills. Actually, I have no idea where dryers go when they die. Maybe the town takes them to Boces for kids to work on. My fear is that I'll spend the two hundred bucks and then find out I still need to spend another seven hundred for a new one, but it's the right thing to do, right? Oh mod cons, can't live with them...

What other excitement abounds? Hubby's working from home today, so we'll be sneaking out to lunch in a couple of hours, and that's always, always nice. Can never spend enough time with your best friend. Unless, of course, he wants to spend the whole time talking about houses we should be buying and are not. I finally quit. Told him he's welcome to hunt and bid and buy one without me - I trust his judgment implicitly. Unless, of course, it comes to picking out clothes for the children to wear, or asking the pediatrician the right questions, or remembering to give the kids their meds when they are sick, but aside from anything to do with the children, or the pets, come to think of it...

Insta-fic got a decent response. :D I can never seem to remember I'm supposed to link my home page to allthejellies instead of posting there, too, but who cares? Either way, a bunch of people said nice things, so I'm not gonna sweat it.

Now if I can only get through a longer story before my next self-imposed deadline, I will be pleased. I've been rereading some of my WIPs and most of them are such crap, I should just chuck them and begin again. So sad when I realize how far I've missed the mark. Why is it so difficult to see this when I'm in the thick of writing them? That's the danger of quickies - I have no idea how bad they'll be, given enough time.

Today is all about errands and catching up on housework. My husband wants to know if I'm on a mini-break. I can't even remember the last time I washed a load of clothes. I've stopped because our dryer is broken, and, in my experience, avoiding unpleasant truths is the most effective way of pretending they don't exist. I shudder at the thought that I might actually be forced to visit a laundromat one of these days. When we bought this house I swore, as God as my witness, I would never step foot inside one ever again, but near-freezing temps and damp clothes don't mix so well. It's looking more and more like I'm going to be forced to go to one or else break down and buy a new machine. Shopping for appliances ranks just a hair above public laundering, imo. Ooh, and getting them delivered is even worse.