Hello all. I finally have a computer set up again, though it’s running slow as Christmas when you’re five years old. FOR NO GOOD RAISIN. My new wireless card is just MEHing along apparently.
We have officially moved out of Renovations Land and into Showing Land, where your home must appear to belong to a Stepford Wife at all times, for the admiration and possible buying from lovable strangers.
I feel like Ollie from Family Guy.
Put a tiny version of my house in his hands and there it is.
Showing Land is less work than Renovations Land, though. At least for my hands. My brain is going to explode from waiting for phone calls.
Anyway.
I still haven’t written any further on the 2nd El’Anret book- I can’t sit still long enough right now. But I will get it done… soon. Someday. Sometime. As for the release of the first book, I was hoping to do it this month, but it may have to wait until next month. Perhaps I’ll do an Autumnal Equinox release! Wheee IT’S ALMOST FALL Y’ALL HOT DAMN.
I should have a peeksies of the cover soon.
In all honesty, I’m sitting here writing this because I have to occupy my mind. A family member was taken from us way too early in a car crash this weekend. Her life had just begun, and now the world is crumbling around where she once stood.
Grief weighs a LOT.
It sits on your chest, burrowing as you walk through your daily life. It makes the spoon that stirs your coffee weigh even more. It makes tears fall down your face, surprising even you. You can’t understand it. You can’t fathom it happening. It just is.
It feels like a cruel joke that just won’t end. No one is coming out to tell us we’re being punk’d, that the hurt is over and it’s not real.
We humans, embattled as we are, are so incredibly fragile. A good friend said to me last night, “Life is heartbreakingly fragile.” That is not a sentence I had entertained much before.
I have lived my entire life being hyper-aware of my own mortality- unfortunately, it comes with my Anxiety & OCD territory. I have done so many things- so many small, odd, out-of-step, doesn’t-make-sense things to appease this crushing desire to live.
But… there is no stopping life and death, it seems.
This is a pain that we could not have prepared for. There was no sickness, no old age, no definitive way to say any sort of end was in sight.
And that is a searing pain.
Life was there, and then, it wasn’t.
To anyone who has experienced this pain, I am holding you right now. I am caught in the undercurrent with you. We can try to swim together.
Melody Klink 