that is one hungry bear

There is a lovely post bouncing around the inside of my head like a soap bubble. It's been there for a week or so now, and I don't think there's much chance of popping it, because I wrote the ideas down in my journal over the weekend. Unfortunately, at the moment it doesn't stand a chance in hell of being written.

Because sometimes you eat the bear, and sometimes the bear eats you. Right now my body is lying half-chewed in the middle of a dark (and probably muddy) forest.

I just don't want to be the bear that eats the rest of my family. I fucking hate feeling like this.

So you know what I'm telling myself? Stop whining, bitch. Stop making excuses for your goddamned plot monkeys and who gave them machine guns, anyway? Shut up and write.

Maybe it'll work, for a little while.

~andi