You know, a lifeline.

That’s apparently how I’m using my blog tonight. Thanks for reading.

I finished a couple books in the last week, and they were both sequels. Good, interesting, well written, but just not everything I wanted. I will probably never write series … first, it’s gotta be so hard to continue putting your characters through pain; secondly, it’s too easy to compare the books to one another.

I feel like a crummy friend, bad coworker, lazy writer, all of these in a body that seems to always be pissed at the world. No matter how much time I spend with the word chronic, I keep somehow waiting to get over it, to feel better.

Have you guys watched the second season of Queer Eye yet? I cry basically every episode. I want the Fab Five to come fix my life. I want Tan France to be my friend and ask deep questions and get my clothes tailored.

I feel like I have all these things I haven’t announced yet on my blog, but they probably wont be earth-shaking to anyone else but me. I’m rambling now, aren’t I? It’s the lifeline, baby.

I have to put the laundry in the dryer. Herculean efforts.

Ok, did it. I’m gonna get some extra rest tonight; clearly my body is screaming for it.

Two questions:

1. What should I read next, any suggestions?

2. What’s the best life advice you’ve ever been given? Pretend you’re my life coach and pass it along in the comments, will ya?