I am starting to develop a fear that my current book is so full of crazy stuff that my other stories, aside from the Sci Fi, will see tame and Mild and comparisons. My current MC has gone on an adventure the most of the others won't really get to experience. So they will have their own adventures, naturally. But I don't know if it'll be as exciting as my current MC.
Yeah I am wondering, I have the pep-talk 'let's kick ass and take names' speech, preceding the obligatory 'so what are you going to do when all is said and done' bits. I know this a huge cliche, but it kinda works in context with the whole '80's Hardcore Action movie style that it seems to garner.
I do plan to move...at some point. I could leave the dishes behind as a gift for the next tenants, as a housewarming gesture.
Which brings me to another confession. When I left a previous flat I was in, I took great joy from throwing away my washing up!
Used to be a land-lord. HATE- ed it! Rather be a tempestuous tennant than deal with one. We got out break-even right before the shit hit the fan. Never go back. Air B&B sounds like money if yer set up for it!
Mine better get the repair guy in for our screen door right quick. Nylon screens are crumbling after ten years.
In all my stories, my mortal characters die!! Well, at some point at least. Sure it may be at a 100 to 164 years of age , depending on the character, and it may be old age. But still! They do eventually die. LOL
I've become too much of a scaredy cat to go on rollercoasters nowadays, but I'll still go on a log flume ride.
I just love making things needlessly complicated for myself. I just now realized I can transfer saves from my 360 to my Xbox One and...I can’t find that one cable that can turn the stupid console on. Why did I not think to research this fact when I was able to play my 360!?
I hate it when I can't find the right word for what I mean. It usually happens in a conversation, and I feel awkward because I can't come up with the right word, and then I get angry at myself. It's like having an itch you can't scratch.
I confess that having been in and out of work the last few years has gotten me to a point where I don't really want to go back to work. Well that and the fact that I'm dealing with chronic cancer. Work just seems unimportant.
There are mornings when I can hear someone calling cadence from across the parade deck, but that was decades ago and thousands of miles away. And sometimes I miss it.
Sometimes I worry that I'm not a real person, but am just pretending to be one by amalgamating various behaviours and styles of communication I have copied from other people.
