Yes, I smile and I agree it is a good night to shiver.

Time has gotten away from me again. I wish I had more time for Blogger. I feel like I know you all better than I know most of the people in real life, and I like most of you more. Thus I feel like a bad friend when I can't devote the time I want to your blogs. Shall try and catch up with all of you tomorrow and Friday...


I've spent the last week struggling with writer's block (a common occurrence after finishing writing a book and then trying to work on the next one), which led to digging through some older projects to try and get the creative gears turning again. 


I've written about 20 pages of a YA novel I started last year. I might make a page for it on here.... Idk yet. (I'm still hovering in the maybe-I-should-just-cast-it-into-the-fire phase.) Anyone interested in giving it a read? It's kind of dark and violent in parts, and it's taken a huge turn from its original direction. I'm not sure where the plot is headed yet. 


The rest of my time is spent watching the Walking Dead (again), and--speaking of the walking dead--dreading the return of Stepdad tomorrow. T.T He's been in a nursing home for like a month and has somehow recovered enough to darken our doorstep once more.


I know this probably makes me sound like a horrible person, but I wish he would just die already. There are good and decent people in this world with fewer bodily ailments than he has, and yet they seem to get snatched up without enough time to spend with their families and friends. People I've known have gotten diagnosed with cancer and died within one or two months--people who deserved more from life, a little more time. And yet Stepdad--a liar and an a-hole and the scum of the earth--defies all the laws of science and medicine and just keeps on living. 


Ugh. 


In other news...


Cousin N has fully recovered. We know this because, two days after returning to England, she demanded that Loud Auntie let her move back in to their house and then buy her a Range Rover, and then Cousin N had a fit and declared that she hates her mother because Loud Auntie refused to buy said Range Rover. Cousin N is like 35, and has never had a real job. Her personality worries Mum and me quite a bit, as Cousin N and Little Sis have almost the exact same demeanor, which leads Mum and me to believe that Mum will be stuck with Lil' Sis's spoiled-brat-ness forever. 


Funny how much of your personality is genetic. Like it gets weird and creepy sometimes. I get told constantly by Cousin F and Cousin Patrick that I'm exactly like their brother, Aa. We even have the same nervous ticks, and the same songs on the playlists in our ipods, despite the fact that we grew up in different countries, seeing each other only twice a year. We're also both equally old school badass--we both have a fondness for swords. And Cuz Aa took up karate around the same time I took up archery. 


Fun stuff time!!
My Cousin Aa/apparently lost lost twin is in this pic (click to enlarge I think...):

The first person who picks him out of the crowd gets a prize. A real prize, in the post.


Here's a fun photo of me for reference, because apparently we look sort of a little bit (I don't think so, but hey whatevs...) alike:

(Don't be distracted by hair colour, because mine isn't natural. If you're stumped, you can find more/better photos here, and here, and lots here.) 


More news.... Only a week left until I head to Colorado!! I haven't had a proper holiday in over two years, and this is like a double super awesome holiday because I GET TO HANG OUT WITH KAZEHANA. :D
Prepare yourself for epic spastification. And Wild West madness. (Y'all can try and convince me Colorado is not Wild West-ish as much you want; it won't make a difference. I'm Irish--anything west of Pennsylvania is the Wild West.)


Hopefully I'll get a proper post up before I leave. I'm working on one, but the ms paint pics take more time than I have at my disposal. Especially since I get so easily distracted by shiny objects, and digging through my old writings, and tumblr, and crushee, and Norman Reedus....


Any of you fellow potheads on Pottermore? If you're not, you should be!! It is at long last open to the general public. Be my friend: username is RainDragon6592. I'm in Gryffindor, according to the Sorting Hat. 


OMG the Devils are actually in the playoffs again!!!! I'm really REALLY hoping it comes down to the Devils v. Coyotes, as the the Coyotes are Cousin F's fav team. And if the Rangers somehow defeat the Devils in the next rounds, I may have to destroy all of New York. 
::knockonwoodknockonwoodknockonwoodknockonwoodknockonwood::


Have a good night, my preciouses! Or a good day, if you're on the other side. ♥

Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.

Thanks for all your kind words on the last post. Cousin C seems to be doing better now with the antibiotics, and Cousin N seems to be back to her usual whining-spoiled-brat self, which leads us to believe that she is feeling better. I am also feeling a bit better. ...or at least, slightly less like a psychopath.

MOVING ON

Because I love Kazehana dearly (OMG 17 DAYS :O), I am now going to continue that post I did about my weird pet peeves. This one particular phobia of mine needs a post all of its own for me to properly explain it.

I like to think of myself as a pretty fearless person, in general. Not much scares me. Few things even make me nervous. And the things that do make me a bit nervous, I still try my darndest to master the fear and deal with it. (Like in the case of airplanes.) Spiders, snakes, head-on collisions, illness, bill collectors, burglars, mountain lions--these things don't really scare me.

But one thing does really scare me.

A lot.

Like really, it leaves me so terrified that I can be reduced to a shaking, incoherent wreck.

TERRIFIED.

I don't even like talking about it. Or thinking about it.

Just doing this post required a hefty dose of alprazolam.

The thing what scares me most...

.........

.....

...is Kevin Bacon.

You don't even want to know how much xanax I needed for that google image search.

But it is through Kevin Bacon, and my fear of him, that I came to believe that God actually exists. Because God knows I'm afraid of K.B., and God really REALLY likes to f*ck with me.

It started small. As much as he freaks me out, I must admit that Kevin Bacon is in a lot of really good movies. Like The River Wild (which made me develop a fear of white water rafting because Kevin Bacon might leap into your raft and take you hostage), Tremors (which for a good two months made me afraid of going outside, in general), A Few Good Men, Murder in the First (that's the one responsible for the Fear getting really bad, but I'll get to that...), Sleepers, Trapped (DEAR GOD NIGHTMARES FOR WEEKS), Stir of Echoes, The Mystic River, and

Wild Things. Particularly, the end of Wild Things.

Scarred for life.

So when I was like twelve or thirteen and the Fear wasn't quite a phobia yet, my Cousin F went through a Christian Slater phase.

(Yeah I'm not sure either.)

That summer she came out to stay with us for a couple weeks in June before I went back to Ireland with her until September, and pretty much every day we walked to the Super Video Store so she could rent another Christian Slater movie.

Heathers is still one of my fav movies. But after that, I was forced to sit through Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (which at least had Michael Wincott, so wasn't too bad), Pump up the Volume, Broken Arrow, Bed of Roses (omg RUBBISH), and Murder in the First.

And then for some reason, Cousin F decided she wanted to switch to watching nothing but Kevin Bacon movies.

This carried over into our return to Ireland, where--praise be to God--the local video rental shop only ever had like 10 movies in stock, so the K.B. watching was limited after that first hellish week. But I still had to sit through Apollo 13.

My other big phobia is space. Like it's almost at the same level as my Fear of Kevin Bacon.

Kazehana made me this nice picture when she found out both of those fears:

The next ten years of my life saw Kevin Bacon popping up during my day to day activities ALL THE FREAKING TIME. Like almost every time I turned on the telly: Kevin Bacon movie. There was even this one time I was sleeping at a friend's house after a night of heavy drinking--I woke up around 3.30 AM (which should not have happened after the amount of alcohol I consumed; normally I would have slept soundly for at least 8 hours) and I glanced at the TV, which we had forgotten to turn off, and

there was mothereffing Kevin Bacon. On the screen. With the giant horrifyingly empty void of space in the window behind him.

A couple years ago, Cousin F came out for a couple weeks in the autumn. She wanted to go into New York City (she always does, to my utter confusion) and see some touristy things. In particular she wanted to see the Empire State Building, but neither of us are really that into heights, so she said why don't we do the virtual helicopter ride instead, as that's on the 2nd floor of the Empire State Building. And I was like that's cool.

So we went, and go into one of those theaters with the weird seating and the domed walls and ceiling like they have at the IMAX, only this was like 1/1000th the size of an IMAX theater and extremely cramped. It turned out it was so small and cramped because the seats moved to make it feel like you're actually in the helicopter. We sat, were forced to strap ourselves in, and then the little virtual-helicopter-ride-movie started.

Guess who narrated it.

Omg... Seriously you guys.... I think I almost wet myself.

Cousin F almost wet herself as well, because she was laughing uncontrollably through most of the film and I'm pretty sure by the end of it, everyone else in that theater must have thought we were lunatics. I have never exited a building so fast in my life.

But that doesn't even compare to the time about two years later, when I was working in the city. I was on my way into work one morning, walking from the path station to the office on 5th Avenue

and I sh*t you not

Kevin Bacon walked down the street.

So, naturally,

 I spent the next twenty minutes believing that all of my worst nightmares of Kevin Bacon hiding under my bed were about to come true.

And then I had to explain to Supreme Evil Bossette why I was half an hour late to work.

There are countless more incidents like this (though none actually as horrific as seeing the real K.B. walk down the street). Take Mum, for example--her favourite actress is Kyra Sedgwick.

Guess who Kyra's married to.

She's married to Kevin Bacon.

I'm getting a headache, so I'm going to have to stop now. If I get bombarded with Kevin Bacon spam by any of you, YOU WILL PAY.

♥