liora

yay, i'm no longer sick! 

as the cycle repeats itself, i'm officially "back" for a brief time until i inevitably disappear for a brief "respite" from the role of being a human who communicates online. in real life it hasn't exactly been fruitful either.

there's been no monkey paw wish or simple trick that's broken my spell of being inable to communicate for more than 3 days at a time until i suddenly retreat back into my lurker haven, with little to no output on the only channels that my friends and family have access to. therefore i am not percieved, i cease to exist - for a moment - and then i return, win them over, like a carrot-on-a-stick situation, then retreat again.

i don't feel particularly good about it, nor am i compelled to change it. i've tried everything. the only thing that works is methylphendiate, or the 10mg of ADHD stimulants that put me into a steamrolling god mode where i text everyone i'm not supposed to and do everything i didn't mean to. like a hurrican of procrastination. a whirlwind of doing but a drought of succeeding.

so, back to being 'fruitful,' which hasn't entailed much.

• i was sick, and spent the better half of a week sleeping and coughing.
• i managed a few sore trips to the beach, hit the "i feel much better!" milestone before the landmine of "i feel much worse" imploded on my path of recovery.
• i tried to hang upside down on an outdoor exercise bar and smacked my toes on the ground, leading to a 2-week long cruise to bruisetown.
• smacked my finger on the floor when trying to decimate the local fly population in my kitchen with a small towel. (this, along with my toe injury, adds to the many digits that have suffered major injury in the past few years that should probably have warranted an X ray.) 

the past 5 days have been filled with nothing but game of thrones, doing the cover art for my music video, and buying and cooking groceries. (i know 'groceries' isn't very british of me, but with my partner being an Eastern European raised on Americanisms, i'm forgiven for the melding of our lingua franca) 

i do regret conceding to Sami's idea of "let's just watch a few episodes" which quickly turned into a bingeful slog of hours wasted and increasingly darkening scenes - both literally and figuratively. seriously, why is it so dark? by season 6, every interior scene might as well have been filmed all in the same dingey castle. i don't remember half the series despite watching it a few years ago, but i remember being deeply involved... which goes to show it's a whole bunch of binge-worthy nothing. or maybe i wasn't paying attention. (scared of the boobs.) 

i finally finished my cover art, but there's an overarching itch that i have yet to scratch, and, once again, it's presented in the form of the insurmountable task: i have to reply to my friends.

you're probably thinking "but [MY NAME], if you're sick for almost 14 days, why not bide your time texting and chatting away? it's so easy to do when you're sick." 

• russian & chinese script (no idea what's going on there)
• fanfic (of course)
• sometimes, a glimpse into someone's inner workings (delightful).

it's a sight for sore eyes, or as my Slovak native boyfriend says, "it's a sight for sorry eyes"

sidenote: i once reprimanded him for saying that about me, because i was dressed well. i thought it meant that something looks reprehensive. well, in writing this entry, i looked up the definition. it turns out he was right! the definition of "a sight for sore eyes" is a person or thing that one is extremely pleased or relieved to see. sorry sami.

what's on today's menu? it was windy again in Tamraght, Morocco, which is where i live right now.

in the AM: 
i took a long bath this morning. we've had a lot of trouble with the sinks not draining, so i was worried a full bathtub that never drains could knock off a few kudos of our spangly new apartment. it went fine. i listened to the first 2 acts of 'Chicago' the musical (London version with Ute Lemper, obviously)

in the noon: went to the souk. the 'souk' (pronounced "suk" but with a big ol' glottal stop) is the open-air market feast for the senses where you hope to walk away with full bags and at least a half-full wallet. the haggling here is commonplace; it's the lifeblood of the greedy brokers who would have you thinking they're driving bugatti camels. they actually barely make a living, but even in my most humdrum of presentations, i reek of money. they don't know i actually moved to Morocco to save money, but i probably have an inch more to spare than they do. we got 3 huge bags of veggies and treated ourselves to a jar of 'amlou,' which is the almond butter that's so damn tasty, it gives crack a run for its money.

in the pm: i've spent the last 4 months trying to paint one image: the artwork cover for my latest single. i've had two other cracks at it, each with countless hours spent on researching, shading, lighting, picking and pruning... i'm still unhappy. i started over for the 3rd time a few weeks ago. my fingers could do with their own little ice bath right now, after hours of pen pushing. we'll get there.

watched: apple, cider, vinegar on netflix. binged it in one go while drawing. shed a tear or two; definitely made me want to take ahuyasca.
read: didn't read yet. does other people's dreamwidth journals count?
listened: chicago the musical
ate: nothing extraordinary. eggs and avocado. bean stew.
repeating thought: i really want to pet a cat right now.