Mol (mollyringle) wrote,
Mol
mollyringle

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What the hell is my problem?

("We don't know, Mol, but we bet it's difficult to spell.")

It's just wrong to need the air conditioning at 10 p.m. Of course, in one week I'll be in the cool and damp of Seattle; and then on the 4th of July I'll be at the Puget Sound beach house where it almost always rains for Independence Day. Most people are used to tanktops and sunscreen and hotdogs for the 4th. I'm used to raingear, and firecrackers dying in the drizzle. It's charming, in its way. In any case it's better than needing the air conditioning at 10 p.m.

During our visit north for the house-hunt, I was a stress case, and to make matters worse I hadn't exercised much in a week or so, due to having had a cold. Getting no exercise makes the stress effects hugely more noticeable. I had barely any appetite. Seeing people I liked made me more stressed, because, well, I want them to like me and I want to seem cool. It's an incredibly dumb cycle of heavy-duty introvertive angst that I sometimes get into, and seldom know how to get out of. In this case, finding a place to live relieved the stress, and then returning here and getting some serious exercise (bike-riding around town) helped a great deal too. I am now eating like an elephant, despite the heat. Thank goodness. Unwilling anorexia is really not my preferred lifestyle, but under certain stressful times I swear my stomach actually shrinks. I just *cannot* eat more than a tiny bit at a time.

Seriously, what the hell is going on when that happens? Any medical types among you have any idea? Because I hate it and want to outgrow it, not grow further into it. I've looked up anxiety disorder and so forth on the web, and I'm pretty sure I don't have that - I'm not as miserable as those folks describe themselves. But I'm such an introvert, and make such a big deal to myself about seeing people, especially people I like, or going places (especially fun places), that I make supposedly fun situations no fun at all for myself. It is so, so stupid. I can see how stupid it is. Yet it happens anyway.

But, here I am, eating cookies and drinking port, so that explains why I'm rambling. Er, I mean it proves that I can get past it after a few days. Or something. Let's just move on.

Happy Gothly things:

When you do a Google search on "Edinburgh ghost legends", even without the quotation marks, you get my webpage about Tourist Attractions first, and the publisher's webpage 6th. This is a small thing, but it pleases me. And a search on "Edinburgh ghost stories" turns it up 8th.

Tolkien Online has a picture of the location where they're filming the entrance to the Paths of the Dead. Thanks to wee_tolkien for reporting that. Looks very spooky and cool. New Zealand was a heck of a good choice for Middle-earth - they seem to have all the requisite landscapes. (OK, so Lothlorien was mostly a sound-set. This doesn't disprove anything.)

I almost never talk about stories I'm in the process of writing, mostly because I figure you couldn't care less, but I'll just mention for kicks that I'm actually giving up on a story that I've been slaving away on for the past couple years. It's been ages since I've given up on a novel after putting so much effort into it. But it isn't clicking for me, and it just shouldn't be this hard. I think I'll abandon it, come back to it some other year maybe, and in the meantime write some fun outlandish ghost story, since obviously my mind is wandering in such places lately. A big house with a tragic accident in its past and a poltergeist in its present, and a cute guy who might hold the secrets to what's going on - yeah, I think that's the kind of thing I can write. Heh. I know. I'm sad.

Enough already! Goodnight.
Tags: self, travel, writing
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