Ramblings and grumblings

Migraine meds are made of win!

Especially the one prescribed to me. In one strike it killed the migraines and insomnia, and magically regulated my appetite. I’m not saying I see me becoming a model anytime soon; I just eat less than I used to, and don’t feel hungry, which doesn’t bother me one bit.

Awesome-meds-of-win do, however, also have their drawbacks. More specifically, they make me fuzzy. No, I didn’t suddenly grow fur all over, but my brain goes a bit muddy, my memory is worse than ever (and it was never good to begin with), and my concentration is–oh! Pretty!

What was I saying?

Right! Drawbacks! My hands and feet also go numb at times. Not good that, especially when I’m applying eyeliner and my fingers decide they don’t want to feel the eye-pencil any longer.

The doc started me off at a small dosage which I’m supposed to increase gradually for four weeks, until I reach
the dosage I’m to intake for the next six months. Hopefully, the side-effects–except for the weight loss–will abate about a week after I’m stabilized, and I’ll finally be able to focus enough to write once that happens.

Oh yeah, that was the point of this post. I haven’t been writing. Because of the pills. But hey, no migraines = YAY!

For those who don’t know this, I’d been having migraines for about nine months now. On a near-daily basis. They were debilitating and stress-related. Since the stress won’t let-off anytime soon–I’m looking at you, people who won’t deliver my bathroom tiles, even after two months, and at you, mom, who can’t wait to get me out of the house–these pills were my last hope. 

Once my brain has tilted back to place, I think I’m only a month or so away from finishing Cherry Stem. The first draft, at least. Then I’ll go back and have a breakdown and scrap the whole thing  edit it, and start sending it to publishers. If you’re reading this, I’d appreciate some major positive mojo when we get to that stage.

Oh, and now it’s bitching time, so you may wanna step away from the monitor. 

For three years I wrote fanfic. Rain or shine, I made time to write and post a chapter once a week–or whenever I’d promised to post–because I didn’t want to let anyone down. I knew people were reading my stories and wanted to know what happened next, and heaven forbid I didn’t do something that was expected of me.

Now I published (yeah, yeah, self published) my first book, that was an originalized version of one of those fanfic stories. As a tribute to my online readers–and there were many of them–I offered to send the fanfic version of it in .pdf format to any of my fanfic readers who asked for it. Thirty five people emailed me about it. Another twenty commented on my LiveJournal asking for it. I sent it to each and every one of them, thanking them for reading. 

When, however, I asked them in a post to please take two minutes off their busy lives, go to the book’s page on Amazon, and leave a review if they liked the book–a book they’d already read and asked for a free copy of–only two bothered helping me out. What the fuck, people? I didn’t ask for your money, just two minutes of your time! Copy/paste one of the reviews you’d left me on the fanfic site, for fuck’s sake! 

Already feeling better, with that off my chest.

Till next time,

x,
Me 

ETA: If I see or hear one more Brit/American/Australian say, “I could care less” I may bash their head in. It’s “couldn’t”, people.  Couldn’t. Could NOT. As in, “I could NOT give a flying fuck about what you’re saying right now, Sotia…” 

Blame the meds, m’kay?