#whingeing

[rawliverandgoronspice]

words pale to express how fucking tired I am of being this exhausted all the time, shit like this is genuinely kind of life-ruining in ways I feel is hard to express properly

[gaslightgallows]

I wonder if I even know how to write anymore.

[pimentogirl]

Is anyone else finding the Tumblr TV thing fecking annoying?

No I don't wanna see a pair of waggling breasts when I'm just mucking about on the app.

I choose to pay so I don't have to see fecking intrusive ads. So now you find another way of annoying me. I don’t want your ads either.

Get that shit off my feed.

@staff @support

[ersatzangel]

.

[so-this-is-my-blog-i-guess]

So. I haven’t really been here much at all. And now my queue is down to 15 posts. And since I have 14,000+ posts in my drafts, I’ll be reloading my queue soon.

My life has been hectic crazy, and I don’t really have the energy for any of this. Within the last month, my officially ex husband (as of last May. We had the court date on the phone because of the pandemic.) has gotten an apartment and moved out.

Within the last week, my house is in contract. I never even had to list it. A neighbor’s relative wanted to be here, and he asked if I would want to sell. So that was easy. Now I have to downsize and buy a house for me and the cats. I’ve officially reached “cat lady” status. So I’m looking for a place with windows they can look out of and have room to run and play while having room for all my stuff... which has to be sorted through (as I’ve been doing over the past several years... but now it’s go time).

Built this place in 1994, and moved in just in time for my son to start kindergarten. This is all bittersweet. This had been my dream house. My son grew up here. But it’s too big, and I just can’t do stairs as easily as I once had. Ranch time it is. The roughest part of doing this is the realization that my son doesn’t want any of my stuff. He feels that it’s all useless, and he’d toss it all in a dumpster. So. I’m packing things as “things I still need” and “things I’ll have to sort through” over the next few years.

It’s amazing how many clothes I’ve saved since the 1980s with the idea that some day I’ll be able to fit into again. I’ll never wear a size 4 ever again. smh. I’ll be lucky to get into a medium... if.

I’m overwhelmed. Physically and mentally. But I’ve always done my best work when I’m near the deadline. And that’s certainly approaching. Fast. I think tomorrow I’ll be boxing up my sheet music, metronomes, and piano light so I can have that done. That’s a relatively easy goal for tomorrow. Maybe if I get truly motivated, I’ll attempt to organize my cassettes. Then that part of the living room will be done, and I’ll have accomplished something. Reasonable. *sigh*

The anniversary of my son’s accident was the other day. We didn’t talk about it. But today he was reminiscing about a friend who he’d last seen when they were doing shots just hours before his accident. Long story short, my kid went to a St Patrick’s Day parade/bar crawl eight years ago. He was being responsible by taking the train there and not driving. But while he and his friend were walking back to the train to go home, they were hit by an suv. His friend had a couple of scratches and a concussion but otherwise was pretty much okay. My son, on the other hand, well, he went through the windshield head first. Literally knocked out of his boots. Ripped his knee up pretty badly. Concussion with possible other issues. He wasn’t good. But thankfully he’s still here. He knows he is lucky. The anniversary of a hellish night. I was sitting where I’m sitting right now when I got the call from the police that he was at the trauma center. I don’t take anything for granted anymore.

And where I’m sitting right now is where my dear Patrick, my 23 year old Maine Coon, passed in my arms about twenty years ago. But there’s good memories in this place, too. Life’s just going to be a lot different now. It’s strange being alone in this house. I keep thinking that I can’t make noise or I’ll wake someone. I’d probably just disturb the cats, but it’s nearing time for their 3am zoomies... and they’re up.

I should sleep soon.

tl;dr Just complaining. Don’t mind me. Goodnight, y’all.

(Please do not reblob.)

[raven-mcbain-monkeymouse]

I think my priorities are messed up. I get violently ill, extremely dizzy, have a killer headache, etc I try to shrug it off and keep going. On the other hand, I break one of my extremely brittle nails or a clump of my hair falls out and I curse, yell and cry for an hour.

[pointless-letters]

I’ll be honest, at this point I just heartily wish the silent majority would for once live up to their name and shut the fuck up.

[accidentalajumma]

Editing time for more crappy translations done by people translating into their L2, not from it. Why Korea? Whhyyyyy? If you’re going to hire a translator, can you really not find one who’s a native speaker of the language they are translating into?

I mean, these aren’t (so far) as shitty as the last time I had to do something similar, but I am not feeling forgiving, because the timescale is tighter and I have a horrible cold. 

And I am too fat for the jeans I have to wear for a concert tomorrow. I mean.. I can fit into them, so they will have to do, but they aren’t going to be too comfortable. Let’s hope at least that my nose stops its constant running and that my voice kinda holds up...