Chesh, take a look at my sig line. A really good look. The last line specifically. Maybe even click on the linky link thingy if you still don't understand why that last line is so important.
Pear or apple cider (the hard kind), preferably from Finn's River Farms or Stella Artois, chased by a shot of good bourbon (I like Maker's Mark). I'd love to have one, or two, and naming it the Jen would be lovely, thank you.
So, the real question is, do I deserve a Rumplations Recommended Read? Because I knocked that "Blood Lust" out last night in something under an hour--between second dinner and "thirdsies", which are both totally a thing here at Chez Jennifer--and I'm really not sure.
Usually write at night, or possibly during the day, or whenever, really, since it has to be when I'm not at work and generally when the boys are at school, asleep or otherwise securely occupied. I don't need to feel "inspired", and "disciplined" is definitely not my style--it'd be nice to be able to set aside X amount of time per day or week or month to write, but that is not a possibility in my life.
I work in solitude, in the sense (see above) that I don't have short people milling around. I like to have music on, period, when I'm online, whether writing or editing or reading the Google News pages. Doesn't matter. I have no writing rituals, unless you count "obsessively checking manually for spelling and/or grammatical and/or form errors" as a ritual, which is something that I definitely do. I do not use either a spell check or grammar check programme. Never have, and never will. I do use the APA guide on occasion.
Pretty much stuck with writing on my desktop in the dining/kitchen area of my house. Chisel and stone tablet would be cool, but there's the mess, and then of course the whole lack of a copy and paste function.
To be perfectly honest, at least a solid 8 of my 13 posted stories have been written and edited in the space of time it takes for the lasagna to bake, or the rice to cook. "Dinner", "Second Dinner", and "Thirdsies" are a real thing in my house. Thus the short word count on most of my stories.
Fuck. This day suddenly took a turn for the very bad. And I'm waiting on a story to be approved--my first in the category. It should've been a Flash, but it ran a bit long, somewhere around 1300 words. Because detail.
Hit me with whatever the fuck is the hardest drink in this bar, please, Bill, and do it several times over, that would be lovely, thanks.
I'm not sure this is a "fixable" thing, but I have spent substantial time and energy on a collaboration, partly to knock out a collab but mostly to help the person with whom I was collaborating submit his first story.
Unfortunately, this person ...long story short, he sent a rather cryptic message about our relationship (what relationship, now?) and how he couldn't handle it (what, again, now?) so now I'm stuck with a story that I spent hours weedwhacking and messing with and otherwise devoting energy to, energy that could have been directed elsewhere, and fuck if I know what to do with it. I don't believe that it would be ethical to submit it solely under my own name, but I'm pretty sure that if I submit it as a collab, he'll not agree to be named as a co-author.
Options? Right now it looks like "forget it exists" and "submit as collab knowing co-author will refuse" are my only options. Just want some kind of reassurance that these are, in fact, my only options.
MMF is on the list of "things I'd like to experience sexually sometime before age 45". FFM isn't. Fairly simple, no?
If you're with me, and I'm with you, then I'm with you. So cheating? No, no, and also? No. The reverse applies as well.
Never have experienced it on my face...but honestly, I don't care where he cums, as long as he cums and his orgasm is a direct or indirect result of my actions.
I can't even remember. October of last year, maybe? October. Probably.
I have unfortunately never stolen anything with intent, ever. Had a rather fearful upbringing and even now am careful to carry items I intend to purchase in clear view. I can only claim to perhaps bringing home the odd pen or roll of bandaging tape with my work stuff.
Oddly, a big thing in my profession is stethoscopes--given that a good model (like a 3M Littmann Master Cardiology) can run into the hundreds of dollars, those commonly go missing. I had two (one a Littmann Cardiology III, one a Littmann Master Classic II) go missing before I bought a clue--now my work steths are all bright rose pink, with my name professionally laser engraved on the binaural yoke (tubing), and even the black Littmann Master Cardiology I keep in my "go bag" has my name similarly engraved in the same place. It's not just someone wandering off with the wrong stethoscope--it's patients who know that a steth can be resold on eBay, or even residents who can't yet afford a good steth and figure well, it's here and pocket it. Well, whatever you would call looping it around your neck.
Is it possible? Real, actual love (whatever your particular definition of that term may be)? No. Not if the relationship is exclusively online. Lush is a merry-go-round of online-only relationships and the drama is just a lot of stupidness.
Now, toss in some texting, phone calls, a meet up or twenty...then yes, I imagine it might be possible, even probable. Certainly Milik/Simplicity and Verbal/LaylaJune are excellent examples of this (also, of the man definitely marrying up, in both cases).
Me? I am too much of a cynic, too complicated and too careful, to fall in love anywhere, online or off. With anyone. Ever.
Right now? Ermm, no? Did I miss something? Now I feel like I missed something. Dammit.
It Ain't Me~Selena Gomez/Kygo