Most years, St. Patrick’s Day would be avoiding Amateur Hour, as people that normally don’t drink that much get themselves into trouble because they are drinking too much. And, it’s the middle of the week, so I would have to be thinking about work on Thursday, how drinking too much makes me cranky and not liking myself or the world or the people in it, and in general just “can’t afford to go out and be stupid.”
And, I would be drinking alone, which makes all of those problems worse. So, no drinking for me!
This year? Only five days ago was the one year anniversary of when-to borrow a pithy phrase-the world changed. “Only two weeks of lock-down to flatten the curve” became a year. Of losing my job-which I didn’t mind so much. Of finally publishing my first novel. Of losing quite a bit of weight. Of going back to school full-time. Of quite a few changes in my life-most good, some bad.
And, missing friends. And conventions. And just this perpetual feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop, of whatever that particular shoe is going to be.
You just have to see what the last year has done to a lot of people. More of my friends than I care to think about have been in bad shape, getting into worse shape. We’re all going a little stir crazy, lacking in human touch and human contacts with other people, and realizing that there is far too much pure bullshit out there. You can have legitimate gripes about the sources of the bullshit, but it’s out there, far too much of it.
And, the writing has suffered. So has quite a few other things.
But, I did manage to fix that one plot issues in The Winter Solist, so that makes me happy.
Anyways, enough complaining and lamenting and writing and new speaker shopping (hearing the difference of music between headphones and my old speakers is confirming to me that I need new speakers) from me. My hopes are that you and those you care about can have a small celebration-a small one-today and tonight and that things will start to get better soon, now that we have a vaccine and such.
Fingers and toes crossed.
Big Bootay Books 