I forgot to write today's blog post. I just immediately launched into this morning's painting session. It didn't even register until about five minutes ago, when I finished adding one of my cats into the painting. She should be very flattered. I made her much slimmer than she actually is. Her tongue is still sticking out, though.
Anyway, not the point. The point is, I'm a dolt. Sorry everyone!
Of course, now my brain is not in the right place for blogging, it still being the vague fuzzy thing it always becomes after a period of intense concentration. It happens after I paint, and then again after I write. My brain just feels fuzzy, and any sort of normal function (conversations etc) is very slow, like my neurons must file through treacle. The results give the impression that I have some sort of neurological disease.
Just as I was writing this, I received an odd bit of flattery. I quote:
So, don't take this the wrong way, but I am having a writing dilemma about torture and I thought you would be the best person to help.
It's weird flattery, but flattery all the same.
Speaking of weird things, I had a very weird dream last night.
I was fighting in Russia as part of the Russian defence. Judging by the style of uniform, it seemed to be the 1950s or so. But the invaders had a giant, hyper-intelligent gorilla as one of their generals. I was separated from my unit, being chased around medieval-type structures by this gorilla general. I managed to trap her and roll down a shrapnel grenade. I escaped, meeting up with my unit in a fighting retreat.
We took up post in an abandoned home, where one of our prisoners of war, an orang-utan, fell in love with a Jack Russell dog we had with our unit. Enemy neutralised?
Then, one of the girls with us (we had child soldiers... they were mostly recon and artillery aids, not directly involved in the fighting), came forward looking like hell and complaining of being starving. I knew immediately what had happened to her, and checked her for bites. Sure enough, she had one, and was turning into a zombie.
I send her to bed, pretending she was just getting a fever, and immediately checked all of our unit for bites. She was the only one. There was a brief discussion with our commanding officer, a handsome dark-haired man who I was quite attached to in this dream (if you catch my meaning), conferred to discuss our options now. We decided that putting the poor girl out of her misery would be best (meanwhile, she's starting to flip out in the room I sent her to). We finish our brief conference...
And that's when my alarm went off.
I woke up drenched in sweat and exhausted. My dreams are weird.
Okay, I've babbled on about nothing for long enough. It's time for lunch, and then I have to attempt to catch up on the writing I missed yesterday due to inability to concentrate.