I promised to keep the bubble universe safe. I kept it on my finger. I watched it. I held it by my bedside and my place of bathing. 

Then I accidentally exposed it to Jill's voice. 

Her voice made me weep. I took my eyes off the bubble universe. Their membrane broke. 

The Hatters are free. The Tepid Witch laughs. At me. 

I failed. 

EDITED TO ADD; but after Jill's voice released The Hattervarse, Vince went into the studio to make music. 

this ring ended up on my finger today. I needed a magic ring, and now I have one. The true story involves a curiosity & antique shop, a raven-haired beauty, an odd little side street, and a missing husband dragged away by the siren song of curvaceous beauties.* Other than that, it's a very boring story. I need a better one. 

Tell me the significance of this ring, how I got it, and for what it's meant.  

-------

*Noise Pollution Records, Blue Bond Guitars.  

Ello is pretty dead these days. Like, deader than livejournal. Wow. 

Anyway. What was it that I thought might be blog-worthy, again?

Ah. Now I remember. 

Something about being in your 40s. Warning: this might become a lot of cane-shaking and yelling at kids to get off my lawn.

I guess I started thinking on this because I follow Persephone Magazine and Femsplain in my feedly. Mostly for Unfuck Your Habitat and the occassional dog-related post. I've started skimming the rest, sometimes looking on with an eye of, "oh, sweet summer children, bless your green little hearts." Because most of the posts are by 20-somethings, peppered with a few 30-somethings. And, boy howdy is it obvious.

Don't get me wrong - the stuff that's posted there is pretty intelligent. But man have I outgrown that shit. The introspective self-learning revelations about jealousy, insecurity, dating, etc. Shit what I am too damned old for.

HA! How appropriate that my media player just pulled up an old demo recording of one of my favorite originals:

Maybe, maybe I should compose

Another jilted love song of agony's throes

Maybe, maybe my childhood was a mess

My self esteem was stunted by the things my daddy said

(I really need to properly record that one, and many others. But I'm really kind of proud of that particular song.)

Anyhow. 

I suppose I just realized what a huge difference there is between being in your 40s and being in your 20s. Sure, you're still an "adult," either way. And you're only as old or young as you feel. And whether or not you have kids is another factor, as well. 

But seriously? I couldn't care less about cute shoes. I care about shoes that don't make my knees hurt, and that don't create blisters on my ultra-narrow heels. Dating angst? Crushes? Pah. I care about nurturing my marriage, about not screwing my friendships and relationships up any more than I have in the past, about not falling back on the models of my parents and siblings. I still love romance, but I recognize that long-term love and marriage is a working partnership, not a whirlwind of drama and angst and sparkles and moonlight. Yes, that stuff can be there in the beginning, but when reality sets in, are you still up for the challenge? 

On the flip side, I'm only 42. I still completely lack the proper amount of responsibility I need to even think about 50. Hell, I'm irresponsible as fuck for a 42 year old. Our finances are a wreck, our house is a shambles that we can't afford to repair, and me personally? Oh, man - I'm a self-employed "free spirit" at its worst. Okay, maybe not THAT bad. But my sleep schedule is obscene, and my business system is ridiculously disorganized. The only thing I have going for me is that, at the piano, I have the kind of work ethic that rides on fear of flaw and fear of being discovered as a fraud. (Guess that's one thing I haven't outgrown.) I'm a "perfectionist" because my worst fear in work is an unhappy customer. A bad tuning. An instable tuning. That translates into "work ethic" to some people, I suppose.

I don't really know where this was headed, except that I need to find more age and attitude appropriate blogs/sites for my rss feed. I need liberal, feminist, messy, imperfect, snarky, ranty blogs by people who love Firefly, The Newsroom, Doctor Who, etc.; who fondly remember their 70s/80s childhoods, and not having internet, and discovering and breaking in the internet in the 90s. Parents welcome, too, because man - how the fuck do you deal with raising kids in today's world? That shit terrifies me.

Any recommendations are appreciated! 

Or, hey, my G+ friends could actually, like, ya know - come over here and blog, too. :P

There's a weird little kid in my brain who doesn't want to go to sleep. She fights tooth and nail against it, because she thinks that night time is story time. It doesn't matter if the stories are bad or boring or repetitive. She keeps winding up the gramophone and putting the needle on the record. She's convinced that somewhere in the vast, ever-renewing record collection, there must be a good story. 

Some of her favorites include, "Why are you still so fat?" and "You haven't finished editing the podcast," and "How'd that whole grad school thing work out for you?" They're on the lower shelves and easier to find. I should get her a stepladder. or a library card. She also likes, "you should be knitting," which isn't a bad one, but it's long, and "maybe you should learn something useful, why not surf the internet?" which starts out pretty well, but ends up being a waste. 

Unfortunately, I'm a grown-up, with a grown-up's body, and I need sleep. The weird little kid doesn't come around much during the day. If I try to summon her, she hides behind the dishes and laundry and the dog. or she puts a record on the gramophone that really sucks. 

I'm trying to distract her tonight. I'm loading Euphoria by Lily King onto my Audible app. I took two Alteril. I'm hoping that maybe this will help her climb up onto the higher shelves and find something else to crank up to amuse herself. Then, maybe I can get some rest. 

I just googled Alteril and found it's been known to cause headaches, anxiety, depression or not work at all. Cripes, who knew a cocktail of melatonin, tryptophan and valerian could be so dangerous? 

...took two isolated women to the ocean and helped them swim in it. 

still working on Episode 9. This is "the breakup episode." 

it's sad. not as sad as 7, but sad. Thor has some problems. Basically, he's a big soldier who wants to be a rainmaker. Daddy says be a soldier. 

I did six pomodoros, and now the app says I earned a 15-minute break. If I take a 15 right now, that means my next Pomodoro will end after midnight, and I'd rather just.... argh overthinking ok thx mebbe I did need tht brk. 

Edited to add: Go to FB. Log in. Watch video of Thomas Boutell ​ singing the "Cold As Balls" song. 

PERSPECTIVE UNLOCKED! 

11:50 PM: Bam. Done. On to Episode 10. 

well, actually, no. On to work tomorrow, then Episode 10. ​

After the collapse and reduction, there were not enough people left to rebuild the way things were before.

What we could rebuild was… different.

It wasn’t all bad:

Without a power grid to light up the night sky, the stars were easier to see.

The obesity epidemic wasn’t a problem anymore.

There were no more traffic jams, and pollution wasn’t really a concern.

Life was ghastly and bleak in every way.

Scattered families scratching out lives, hiding from thugs and roving bands of Skullers.

One night, Autumn, a resilient girl in an impossible situation, made a simple choice that drastically altered the course of many lives.

She decided to run. 

The Arden House Series, available now.

Yes, this beautiful vintage diner could be yours, if the price is right!