intaglio: knightofend @ LJ (lightning rod)
Recently, I finally found amazing writing music. Downloadable massive mixes of slow ambient dubstep. This is what the stars sound like. It's perfect for writing to, which I don't seem to do, lately.

I talk and talk and talk about writing, and vomit ideas into the ether of the internets, but I don't write them; I talk and talk and talk about tagging, and slowly manage one or two tags a day before I collapse into bed.

Some of this is biological, cyclical. Some is just pervasive. Some is the constant distraction and general loud atmosphere I work in and am expected to function in. Some of it is just that the gloss is off the hobby and even hobbies, lately, seem more like work.

Cursory Googling suggests that others with grief-based PTSD have reduced dream recall. This has bothered me, off and on, and my total empathy score has taken a long, slow, almost sixteen-point slide over the last three years in particular.

In brief: grad school has turned me into a noxious bitch.

I am going to play Tetris and then I am going to power through this decaf coffee, and then, THEN, I am going to write, whether it's tags or fanfic or something else or just more (and more personal) bloo bloo bloo, woe and torment, bloo.

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intaglio: knightofend @ LJ (Default)
intaglio

March 2017

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