I am too lazy to actually go and look, but I think it has been approximately a year since I got this website started, and this blog along with it. I may be very off, and if I am, then you, O readers, can enjoy a chuckle up your sleeves at my inability to remember dates. I'm always happy to provide you entertainment, even inadvertent.
A far more important date is coming up -- the tenth anniversary of the Dangerverse, by which I have said multiple times that I would have the main story completed. I'm not backing down from this, not even modifying it, but I am stating that it may be harder for me to handle than I had previously thought. But life is like that sometimes. (Warning: unpleasantness, if not actual rant, ahead. Read at own risk.)
What I forgot to take into account is my pattern with anything big, enjoyable, and important that I do. I have big bursts of energy at the beginning, and periodically throughout as I get my second wind, and third, and fourth, and fifth, and so on. But as I start to near the end, and pretty much always once whatever-it-is finishes, I get what my mother calls "letdown".
Most people grow out of their bad habits from childhood, don't they? Not me. Mine have only gotten worse with time. And this is one of the worst I could imagine. Once I no longer have the constant emotional input of doing whatever I was doing, the emotional crutch if you will, I turn whiny, self-deprecating, and generally unpleasant to everyone around me. (Why, look! It's already happening!)
Any big emotional event can trigger a letdown in me. I don't like surprise parties, or really any kind of party at all, because of the inevitable aftermath. In fact, I try to avoid anything exciting or stimulating, anything I would really strongly enjoy, because I know that the session of disgust, displeasure, shame, and exhaustion afterwards will be so much worse than any pleasure I got from the event. And oh yes, did I mention, the longer the event lasts, the worse and longer-lasting the letdown?
Thus, as I approach the ending of the Dangerverse, I find myself wishing -- for my own sake only, mind -- that I had never begun it. Perhaps I should also mention that my emotions take note of only those facts they happen to like at the moment. So the facts that many people like my stories and have been influenced for the better by them? Not important. All I can see, in this mood, is everything I've done badly. And trust me, there is OH SO MUCH of that.
And so, you have the tale of a life which, if not wholly wasted, will surely not be lived to its full potential. Of a heart which cannot conceive of truthful compliments, and so spends all its time picking apart everything kind said to it, looking for the hidden slam. Of a person who spends a great deal of her time wishing, very fervently, that she were someone else, anyone else, because at least other people have the refuge of the inside of their own minds. But hey. Life's not fair and never was.
My usual "thanks for reading" doesn't quite seem to cut it today. How about, I'm deeply sorry that you had to sit through that, and if I weren't too tired to come up with something else for a blog post today I'd erase every word of it? But I am, so I'm not. More writing as soon as I can find the energy. See you Thursday. I hope.