we are not lost

Aubrey; also Birdie.
Fantasy writer. Polyamorous and really gay. Mentally ill and disabled.
Local queen of cait sidhe. Powered by caffeine, anxiety, and spite.

mortalcity: A woman's wrist with a compass rose tattoo. (stock | keep following the heartlines)
Finally finished my application for improbable dream job and sent it in. I would have been done with it a week ago, but I was trying to get a hold of some people to acquire contact info and they were... about as useless as I have come to expect. I don't trust people anymore and these specific people are the reason. Gave up on them eventually and found alternate contacts, because fuuuuck relying on fundamentally unreliable people.

But the thing is done and I can stop stressing about it! Absolutely nothing is going to come of it, but I'm glad I got it in anyway.

And now I need to remember how words work, because I have totally failed at writing and RP stuff while dealing with this. But I don't know where to start, and if I'm being honest, all I want to do right now is play Dragon Age. Killing dragons and collecting things and knocking out quests is comforting to my neurotic completionist soul.
mortalcity: A flock of corvids against a pale sky (corvids | the devil counted to seven)
The last month, in summary: generally crap. Got derailed from writing for a while because of breakup drama, struggled with RP things because of reasons. Basically, February can go to hell.

Except for the Hamilton bootleg. That part was not so terrible.

Word Count: 12327 (with RP); 2755 (without RP). ....like I said, not great.
Stories Written: This one WG ficlet is all I finished; a couple of other things slowly getting added to that I will finish eventually.
Reading: A lot of Animorphs, currently paused at #25 while I wait for [personal profile] actuallyclintbarton to catch up with me; The Sleeping Beauty by Mercedes Lackey, because I like to read silly fluffy fantasy when I am sad.




This month: writing again! Actually finishing some goddamn fics. Figuring out what the hell I am doing with my larger projects. Burying myself in work in an attempt to distract myself from overwhelming anxiety about my living situation, once again.

Month goals, for accountability reasons )
mortalcity: Two people sitting on a hill, looking at a darkening sky with stars. (stock | with your face all full of stars)
I spent basically all day today syncing stuff off my old dying desktop, setting up my shiny brand new computer (a winter gift from [personal profile] actuallyclintbarton, which I really don't deserve but is amazing and deeply appreciated), and setting up my bullet journal for the next month and the new year. That last one took... way longer than expected, but I feel a lot more like I got my shit together now.

New computer is named Eliza, and will hopefully be as reliable and long-lived as her namesake. She is perfect and I love her.

I signed up for [community profile] getyourwordsout again for the next year, this time for the next level up. My word count this year came out to 137,056 (give or take anything I write in the next... hour or so) - short of the modest pledge level I just signed up for, but nearly double the pledge level I was doing this year. A lot of those words are things that only sort of count for various reasons, but fuck it, they went in the spreadsheet anyway. Hopefully next year I can step up my game and I will have more actual stories to speak of, but this year I figured out that maybe I actually haven't forgotten how to write after all, so that's good too, I guess.

...hopefully they post the new word tracker spreadsheet very soon, because I am going to lose my mind pretty quickly if I don't have a place to tally up my words come midnight.

Fireworks are already going off and have been for hours. Olivia Natalia is having a slow, mostly quiet neurotic meltdown over them. I am trying very hard not to join her because the passage of time is scary and stressful and I feel like I am not prepared for it. 2015 tried to kill me. So did 2014, for that matter. 2016 has to be better, somehow.