As I've mentioned in several earlier posts this week, I've been sick. It started on Sunday with a really stuffy head, then progressed into a spiral of fevers, sore throat and muscles, blurred vision, migraines, sinus congestion, and laryngitis. I personally blame Derik because he had this crap last week. The ONLY reason I caught it is because my immune system was compromised after a flip-flop in the snow adventure at the theme park.
But it came at a really bad time. You see, I've hit an impass when it comes to my novel. The plot introduces a rag-tag group of characters who eventually band together to become the newest superhero group. The problem? I don't know much about super hero stories. I'm going for a comic-book-style setting, that's always been my idea. And I was rolling along just fine until I start dealing with the issues of realistically writing about a group of oridinary people turned superhero. It isn't just something you can breeze through. It has to be done just right.
I devised a great plan: I would download an unnecessary amount of movies that dealt with the same "style" of my book: dystopia, futuristic, sci-fi, funky and offbeat, comic-book superhero. I had a few movie buff friends help me out with appropriate movies, made a huge list, and chose a day where I would do nothing but sit in bed, watch a marathon of inspiring films, and take notes about the storytelling process, as well as other things I'm clueless about--such as how to write an appropriate reaction from the public. (Your superhero's rise to fame is so delicate...)
Problem with said plan? I'm sick as all unholy fuck, I can barely see, I haven't had a damn thing to eat other than chicken noodle soup and miso soup in a week. I'm groggy and cranky and sad. My house looks sloppy and I can never feel inspired when there's crap laying around messily. I have been looking forward to April 21 for like, a month, as my big inspiration day, and now it's here, and I'm whiny.
I bought a pair of red rose earrings in Stockholm, and I found one of them on the floor today, meaning the other one is lost (probably my cats, they tend to carry around small things for fun) and I just cried and cried, because I was sad over it. I watched Star Trek and cried over that, I took a shower and the water wasn't warm enough, so I felt like crying over that but instead just threw around a lot of shampoo bottles and whined.
Being sick is rough! This is the first time I've had any kind of viral infection in years. I don't know how people who are frequently sick deal with this shit. I power work through migraines and stomachaches all the time, but this is a whole new level of sick. It's so shitty. Derik tells me I should just be patient, understand my body needs time to recover, and take the time off. But when your "job" is writing a story you don't even feel like anyone will ever want to read.....and you can't even muster up the energy to sit at a damn chair, which sounds SO EASY but trust me, is SO HARD......you feel like shit.
So, here's my supposed 'day of awesome inspiration' and I'm sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Goddammit.
Fuck being sick, and fuck emotions.
Also, unrelated, I made a pretty thing. The picture was taken by my brother. It's the Appalachian foothills (where we grew up. And apparently he lives there now. Whatever.) The text is from some religious quote, but I thought it was relevant nonetheless. Atheists have just as hard of a time, if not harder, with thinking we're worthless at the end of the day.