Time crashing, colossal waves in shades of red, at least it's not black anymore...
Must defrag.
Ithurtsithurtsithurts.
I'm going to check out H2K while I'm in New York this weekend. I was all excited about it this afternoon, discussing possibilities of going to DefCon in two weeks... (Tho ticket prices say otherwise)
One more load of laundry and I can sleep.
Sensory overload, the hugs, the wine, everything was spectacular last night and today was a vision in warm shades of afterglow.
But right now I'm so tired and irrationally terrified looking ahead at the next month that Ican'tIcan'tIcan't anymore.
Brain hurts.
You're right, Steven. I need to step back.
Gotta defrag.
I'm not as colossally strong as I thought I was.
Work is hard, and it's a priority right now.
The social scene is as usual a glorious mess filled with people to miss and worry about and hug and enjoy time with.
But my brain hurts.
I keep overdoing it. The minute I have a chance to think I leap into canyons that I should know I don't have time to climb out of.
This business of retiring the nomer of Monstre. It'll have to wait. The lessons are still there, and while it's clear that my ego has major kinks that need ironing, Right Now Is Not The Time.
I'm learning. I'm redefining Monstre-ness.
The very paradigm has shifted so many times I can barely see what I hated about myself Then, as opposed to what I am confident about Now, and what new things I've decided to take arms up against Now.
I'm morphing Amber-style closer and closer to the true image of chaotic brilliance that I dreamed I should be.
But right now I've got to stop, think of mundane things, and order them before I can rehash my Litany Against Things That Suck.
Too tired to fight right now.
I hate that, and it hurts.
It hurts more than looking in the eyes of a loved one and finding out they don't respect me anymore.
One more load of laundry, head brimming with the trip to New York for the next week, signing up for Motorcycle lessons when I get back, joining a gym, writing a book, writing my own smtp server, getting off my ass and finding that car, and on and on and on...
Let alone worrying about finding my way to Vegas for DefCon, or about throwing another infamous party mid-August in Rigaud.
Half hour until the dryer's done.
And then I get to sleeeeeeep...