Good morning, Readers!
So.... I feel like I should apologise for my mood. Or at least explain. Or reassure.
Reassure seems like a good idea.
Guys, I'm alright. I know yesterday's post was a little on the weird/morose/morbid side, but I'm fine. I am just weird and have weird thoughts sometimes. I couldn't call myself a writer if I wasn't even a little bit weird, right?
Explaining should be next. I'm not sure what brought on the morbid mood, but I have a good idea, and it comes down to two reasons. The first is that the daylight hours are much, much shorter now. It is light enough when I leave the house in the morning, but almost completely dark when I leave the office in the afternoon. It has also been very cloudy the past week or so, and so what little chance I did get for some sun was pretty much taken away. This is great for avoiding wrinkles; not so great for my vitamin D levels.
If you don't know already, my first few years here I suffered from SAD (Seasonal Affect Disorder) due to the low levels of sunlight. It took me quite a while to be diagnosed and take steps to rectify that. Alas, I have been a bit remiss in taking my daily vitamin D supplements since the light went away, and it's probably having an effect.
I really need to be more diligent about that.
The second reason is that my birthday is fast approaching. I always get a little depressed around my birthday. I don't know why. I don't care to know why. It just is.
I'm not a fan of my birthdays in general, and my birthday in particular. Again, I don't know why. Don't ask. I can't answer. It's just been this way for about as long as I can remember. I always get sad around my birthday. We'll call it a quirk.
The Amazing Flatmate is always there with a small celebration for me, because she's awesome. To my great shame, I haven't returned the favour. Which means I suck. I should get on that. Hmmm.... Sorry flatmate. I really do suck.
Anyway, birthdays get me down. I always have to spend extra time to remind myself that I actually have it pretty good around my birthday. And I need yet more time to remind myself that I'm an alright person, too, who has done and continues to do really awesome stuff. I have to make a special effort to tear myself away from the fact that I am soon to be [insert age here] and am still paying off student debt, I still don't have my own home like I always dreamt I would. I still don't have that property with horses that I continually dream of. I cannot afford to travel to the places I want to see (all of my vacations are spent at home because I can't actually afford to go on a trip). I'm still childless, and I want children (I don't have much time left if I want healthy children). I'm still single.
For the record, it bothers me that the last one bothers me. It probably wouldn't bother me if I was currently single, but had at least one serious relationship in my life. I haven't.
By societal standards, I'm an incredibly loser.
Despite having written and published four books (technically, I've written more. I just haven't published them), I don't feel I'm any kind of success. My books don't sell very well outside of conventions. No one but my group of friends and family get excited about any of my new releases. Word of mouth - by far the best chance a book has of making it in the world - is not helping me at all. I'm only self-published; I would love to see a book I wrote in a physical book store, but am unable to because I'm self-published.
Sometimes it's really hard to feel like a success when you're swamped with rejection letters, still living like you're 21, living pay-cheque to pay-cheque and don't have any prospects on the horizon.
Birthdays seem to only remind me of how long it has taken me to get absolutely nowhere.
Anyway, if I seem a bit sad or off to anyone these are probably the reasons why. Don't worry. I'll get over it and be back to my cheerful self in no time.
So.... I feel like I should apologise for my mood. Or at least explain. Or reassure.
Reassure seems like a good idea.
Guys, I'm alright. I know yesterday's post was a little on the weird/morose/morbid side, but I'm fine. I am just weird and have weird thoughts sometimes. I couldn't call myself a writer if I wasn't even a little bit weird, right?
Explaining should be next. I'm not sure what brought on the morbid mood, but I have a good idea, and it comes down to two reasons. The first is that the daylight hours are much, much shorter now. It is light enough when I leave the house in the morning, but almost completely dark when I leave the office in the afternoon. It has also been very cloudy the past week or so, and so what little chance I did get for some sun was pretty much taken away. This is great for avoiding wrinkles; not so great for my vitamin D levels.
If you don't know already, my first few years here I suffered from SAD (Seasonal Affect Disorder) due to the low levels of sunlight. It took me quite a while to be diagnosed and take steps to rectify that. Alas, I have been a bit remiss in taking my daily vitamin D supplements since the light went away, and it's probably having an effect.
I really need to be more diligent about that.
The second reason is that my birthday is fast approaching. I always get a little depressed around my birthday. I don't know why. I don't care to know why. It just is.
I'm not a fan of my birthdays in general, and my birthday in particular. Again, I don't know why. Don't ask. I can't answer. It's just been this way for about as long as I can remember. I always get sad around my birthday. We'll call it a quirk.
The Amazing Flatmate is always there with a small celebration for me, because she's awesome. To my great shame, I haven't returned the favour. Which means I suck. I should get on that. Hmmm.... Sorry flatmate. I really do suck.
Anyway, birthdays get me down. I always have to spend extra time to remind myself that I actually have it pretty good around my birthday. And I need yet more time to remind myself that I'm an alright person, too, who has done and continues to do really awesome stuff. I have to make a special effort to tear myself away from the fact that I am soon to be [insert age here] and am still paying off student debt, I still don't have my own home like I always dreamt I would. I still don't have that property with horses that I continually dream of. I cannot afford to travel to the places I want to see (all of my vacations are spent at home because I can't actually afford to go on a trip). I'm still childless, and I want children (I don't have much time left if I want healthy children). I'm still single.
For the record, it bothers me that the last one bothers me. It probably wouldn't bother me if I was currently single, but had at least one serious relationship in my life. I haven't.
By societal standards, I'm an incredibly loser.
Despite having written and published four books (technically, I've written more. I just haven't published them), I don't feel I'm any kind of success. My books don't sell very well outside of conventions. No one but my group of friends and family get excited about any of my new releases. Word of mouth - by far the best chance a book has of making it in the world - is not helping me at all. I'm only self-published; I would love to see a book I wrote in a physical book store, but am unable to because I'm self-published.
Sometimes it's really hard to feel like a success when you're swamped with rejection letters, still living like you're 21, living pay-cheque to pay-cheque and don't have any prospects on the horizon.
Birthdays seem to only remind me of how long it has taken me to get absolutely nowhere.
Anyway, if I seem a bit sad or off to anyone these are probably the reasons why. Don't worry. I'll get over it and be back to my cheerful self in no time.
This made me laugh. Such is my humour. Want cake? (Image courtesy of pixgood.com. Click for link)
Promise.
Ciao!
Ciao!
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