My sister had a concert that went rough tonight, strings sliding out of tune, missing orchestra members, just not a good time.

A man I knew in passing who couldn’t afford a lung transplant because his insurance wouldn’t cover it died this morning. And, y’know, even though I try not to get attached to every single person I meet on the lists, it bothers me.

A man whose writings I respect is feeling (rightfully so) attacked for writing what he feels like writing about on his own blog – which in this case, is his comic. So he’s stopped writing about his comic on his blog because he doesn’t feel comfortable doing it. If I did that, there’d be almost nothing on here. But I’ve pulled posts of this site myself, so I feel his pain.

I spent the entire day running around like a nut trying to do what was right, and I think I pissed some people off for doing so. I’m beyond caring at this point. Let them think of me what they want; I don’t have any regrets.

My husband’s asleep, my dog is snoring, and I’m waffling between the desire to work out and the desire to kill someone.
(In the novel. Calm down. Sheesh.)

…it’s either sadness or euphoria.