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the girl with violets in her lap [userpic]

Blogathon for Tricia, Hour Fourteen: It's Hour Fucking Fourteen

January 9th, 2010 (05:27 pm)
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Oh, boy, guys. We are moving into a long, lo-ong stretch here.

I've been doing this for thirteen hours and I have seven left to go. The midday rush of bought topics is over; from my last post on up to hour seventeen, I'm on my own for inspiration. Two people have already unfriended me due to my flooding their friendslist, including one person that I actually liked. My eyes are going all weird and unfocus-y. It's taking me twice as long to write sentences as it did earlier today. I made a lengthy post about my best friend doll purse that I'm pretty sure everyone is avoiding with raised eyebrows, certain that I am either on crack or starting to disintegrate mentally. I am having an impulse to shower for the third time today in an attempt to massage my head back into working order, and if I do this my hair will turn into straw and probably fall out. What little inspiration I am finding is coming Flight of the Bumblebee-style: I want to tell you about my teddy bears! My socks! My cats! My FarmVille farm! My broken bathroom ceiling fan! My utter and complete desperation at this particular moment in time! My aarglegraghglegroompgaieeeeehalp? halp. eep.

Tap, tap, tap, go my fingers against the edge of the keyboard.

I'm pretty sure another couple of neurons are sizzling and flaring out every time I blink. Or don't blink.

And I am very, very hungry.

And so here I go again: echoing the failure of hour five, writing about how I have nothing to write and then going to nurse my poor burnt-out self.

I'm dithering here, mind you. On the one hand I'm thinking, well, you know, if this is comparable to a walkathon, then the point is really showing up and keeping grimly on, right? If I hit a wall at mile fourteen of a walkathon I'd slow way the hell down to tortoise pace and limp along on bruised blistery feet, bitching and moaning, until I managed to pull myself together again.

On the other hand, a walkathon is not designed for entertainment purposes, and a blogathon is. Theoretically.

I could go back and forth between these two hands forever, but unfortunately the thing that is really weighing in right now is my ass, and what it is saying is:

I HURT. THIS HURTS. BRANE HURTS. NO BRANE. ASS IS SQUISHED AND ALSO INSUFFICIENT SUBSTITUTE PROVIDER FOR BRANE'S CURRENTLY DEFUNCT COGITATION. GO EAT THINGS NOW. MAKE BRANE WORK AGAIN.

It's hard to argue with one's own ass.

Back in an hour.

This is the hour fourteen post of my blogathon for my aunt Tricia, who is dying of end-stage ovarian cancer and whose family is being hit with a whole lot of bills that they can't afford alone as a result. Donations can be made at the link given above. A number of topics are still unclaimed and can be bought for $5 or more.






Comments

Posted by: Julie (geekjul)
Posted at: January 9th, 2010 11:53 pm (UTC)

You have a ceiling fan in your bathroom? Just how big is your damn bathroom!?

Also, you are doing great and rah rah rah and I'm about to go read like six hours worth of posts ESPECIALLY the doll head post that was for ME! Woo!

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