Good morning, Readers!

I'm not supposed to be here writing this. I'm supposed to be in the country, by a lake, seeing family. I had to cancel that trip, as travelling anywhere is giving me too much anxiety at present, and even minor normal symptoms of chaining weather has me on edge.

After cancelling the trip, I cried. A lot.

I haven't seen family in months, despite livi​ng same city. It didn't hit how much I missed them, my father in particular, whom I visited at least once a month before this, until I cancelled.  I sobbed for almost an hour afterwards, then broke down again later in the afternoon. I'm crying a little just writing this, because now I have to think about it.

Honestly, I don't know how folks who are totally alone through this are making it. I at least have my cats, and Galahad in particular is a cuddly little bugger, and my flatmate who, even if we're both doing our thing, is still a comforting presence in the house.

I didn't teach this weekend. I cancelled the class because I was supposed to be away, and didn't reinstate it. I was too depressed Saturday to face anyone. So, I spent the whole day gaming. Probably because I was carving some fatherly comfort, I revisited the 2018 God of War. I played for two days straight. Still not finished it,  by the by. I still adore old man Kratos, and his adorable son. It's such a brilliant story and exceptional execution of it.

Sunday was a bit brighter.

Ages ago, I had made an impulsive order for something that would help improve my time in quarantine, particularly those rainy days when I can't go out at all. It's a VR kit for my Playstation. And also a VR copy of Skyrim. And also Beat Sabre.

Though escaping in to virtual worlds is my modus operandi for when things get difficult, I have set strict limits on it. The first is that I'm not allowed to touch it at all until I've finished my work for the day.

For today, that means writing this blog post, French lesson, editing a couple of chapters on a friend's manuscript, and also writing at least a thousand words on my own project. Also today, I need to fold and put away my laundry and wash my dishes.

Than I can play some games.

Maybe I'll feel a little less sad with work to do.

Right, on that note, I have to go and start editing. But first:

A Song by an Artist No Longer Living

A classic. Back when I was going out on the town, Irish pubs would play music like this all the time here in Ottawa. They don't really, anymore. I miss those days.

Stan Rogers died so young. It makes me so very sad.

This challenge day was very appropriate, me thinks.

​Ciao!

A Song by a Band You Wish Were Still Together

Okay, huge caveat here, because I actually don't wish any bands were still together. I'm not so nostalgic for bands in that way. So, honestly, I just picked a song I liked from back in the day.

A Song You Think Everybody Should Listen To

While it's literally every song in the challenge so far, I wanted to highlight some nerdy music that I love, and a singer I adore. I've posted this song before (but not for this challenge).

A Song That Moves You Forward

A change of pace, and another difficult choice. There are so many songs that get me pumped up. This is just one of many. I chose it because it also gets my imagination in gear. That's important to me.

Good morning, Readers!

Yesterday was the Amazing Flatmate's birthday, and so I had set aside the day, planning to get little to no work done. I was correct. I got little to no work done. I did do my editing job, though, which was good.

I spent the day relaxing with the flatmate, who celebrated her birthday in quarantine in style. Part of the fun was her request for friends and family to send her pictures of themselves in costume. The criteria was this:

A person - real or imagined - who had to spend some time in isolation.

That was it.

I am not good with costumes, and have a very limited wardrobe in any case, so I dressed up as Runner 5. Folks who are familiar with that character will recognize them from the running gameficiation app Zombies!Run. It's a fantastic app I've written about before. Basically it turns your running training into something fun with high-stakes radio-play-like missions for each run. Anyway, it required little more than my usual running gear with a torn up running bib with the number 5 painted on it.

Low-effort, but fun.

We had a long breakfast outside in the sun, lounged around inside when it got too hot, then I made dinner for us (which apparently was tasty... Part of me still feels like she was just being kind, even though I enjoyed it too. I am a well known food vacuum, though. I will eat most anything. Mmm.... food), and her parents visited, all masked up, and staying well away, to deliver gifts and chat for a bit.

Later, we listened to music and played around with sparklers.

I stayed out later than I normally do, though, so today called in for a lie-in. I also don't expect to be doing much work today either. I'm le tired, and I feel like cutting myself some slack. Chances are, though, I will manage to get some work done.

I am aiming to continue with the editing, for example.

Speaking of which, I should go now and get that done. But first:

A Song With a Name in the Title

This song is one that'll just randomly pop into my head. It's so damned catchy.

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

I'm over at Black Gate Magazine today, writing about this weird place I find myself currently with regards to the state of my career. I've written about it all before here, so, this may sound like old news to some of you. Which, I mean, it is. I've still not resolved it.

This blog post is personal to me and my experience with writing and publishing, but I thought a few of you might be able to relate.

I am, despite my better judgement or desire, an ambitious person. I try not to be. Or at least, try not to be so ambitious. I try to find contentment where I am. I struggle to, however.

You see, I don’t think my ambitions are all that great. I don’t want millions of dollars. All I really want is for my writing to reliably sustain me. That it pays my bills, and even gives me a little left over for fun things like travel… and the ability to support my video gaming and artistic hobbies. In publishing, however, that is one hell of an ambition. Even published and celebrated authors are forced to work outside of writing to feed, clothe and house themselves.

There’s not much money in publishing, to be frank.

Sure, some writers hit it big. People looking on, who might not know what it’s like in the trenches, would be forgiven in assuming that writers are doing far better than they are, what with such high profile authors out there. Those authors, however, a rare. The vast majority of us, published or not, languish in the dark, having to work elsewhere in order to support ourselves and our writing.

In my case, I work a full-time job as a receptionist and a side-job as a martial arts instructor.
​
Or I did. Before the plague.

And I haven't forgotten the song challenge, either:

A Song That Has Many Meanings to You

I'll leave any and all interpretations to you.

Good morning, Readers!

Yesterday was all kinds of odd for me.

It was Sunday, and I was walking in the sunshine to my former place of work to collect the files that were sitting on the work computer. These were all of my book files; both completed and in progress.

The building was quiet and dark, and still there were people on my floor. Towards the end of my stay, I heard doors slam open and closed, and elevators dinging. Each time, it made my heart jump at little. It was almost like being in the middle of a zombie movie; the day after the whole thing went down. Things were strewn about, but ultimately still in good nick.

The walk there was nothing like a zombie movie. The air was bright and cool, the sun warm and cheery, and there were so many people walking around outside. Very few of them had face masks. Before you ask, yes, I did. I didn't wear it the entire time I was walking outside as the first part of the walk had few people. It was when I hit the Glebe that there were tonnes of folks, and I put the mask on.

Side note: here's the thing about masks. They won't protect you. That's not their purpose. You wear a mask not for yourself, but to protect others from you, from the possibility that you might unknowingly infect them. So for all those folks who feel like wearing a mask is weakness, all I can say is this:

Defending others is not weakness.

Wear the fucking mask.

Anyway, I remained in the office longer than I wanted or intended to. The work computer, you see, is a refurbished pile of rubbish that can barely handle a simple word processing programme. When I plugged in my USB stick, it failed to recognise it, and any attempts to update the driver failed spectacularly. Aggravated, I decided to try and upload the files to my cloud drive, which was already straining it's limits. Because this computer has all the processing powers of a potato, that took hours.

Literally, hours.

Then, when I only had a third of the upload to go, the USB magically worked all of a sudden (it was, like, the 6th time I plugged the thing in). LW messaged me via my Facebook page to help troubleshoot, and so I plugged the thing in to follow the steps, and it magically started working. WTF. So, I transferred the files. That went quicker than trying to upload them.

I stayed until the upload completed all the same, because having a backup could not hurt.

So, thanks so much, LW, for helping out. Apparently just the offer of help was enough to make the computer behave.

Not having my writing with me was stressing me out a great deal. It was a latent, lingering stress that was hovering over me as I numbly went through the motions during the pandemic. Now I have the files, in two, easily accessible places, and that's one stress I no longer need to worry about.

Now it's just joblessness and general malaise that bothers me.

The relief of that stress left me with a headache I couldn't shake. It wasn't quite a migraine, but it was approaching those levels of pain. There was nausea. I went to bed at the usual time, after a scalding hot shower.

This morning, after the cat calmed down enough to be cute and snuggly, I managed to have a glorious, much-needed sleep-in. The cat was curled up on my right side, sleeping with his head on mine. It was really very sweet, and almost made up the waking me at 4:30am for no goddamned reason.

Today, I started everything much later than I should have, since I'm trying to keep a schedule. But I don't mind. I have a lingering headache, but it's nowhere near as terrible as yesterday, so I decided to take it easy. Besides, it's technically a public holiday here in Canada today. That doesn't mean anything to me anymore, as I'm currently unemployed, but it does give me an excuse to not do all the work I usually do.

There is still some work I have to get done. I have to write a blog post for Black Gate Magazine today. I have no idea what to write about yet. I really should do my French homework, and there was some editing I was hoping to have gotten done yesterday, but didn't, so I should catch up on that. Maybe, if I'm really lucky, I'll be done all of this by this evening, and can relax a bit before bed.

Right, I've got a lot on my plate, even if it's a holiday. I should get to it.

But first:

A Song From the Year You Were Born

Actually, a lot of really awesome songs came out in '83. I decided to go with the meme... but Down Under by Men at Work almost made it here.

​Ciao!