Why?

Why is my room built on a slant like this? Why am I so good at cutting my own hair? Why do I have an obsession with candles? Where can I buy more great candles? Why do I hate screamo so much? These are all questions that need to be asked.

Today I've been finishing up an edit on the first ten thousand words of Dreamwalker, because I switched it from first-person to third. It fits the book better, and it will be easier to write it back to back with its sequel this way.

I also, as you may have guessed, cut my own hair. Now I'm getting ready to do the cat box while I wait for my vegetarian pizza to get here.

It's been a good day. Every day has been a generally good day lately. I mean, I'm really, like. . .I don't know if the word is anxious or if I should say I'm kind of falling into some unhealthy thought patterns. There's a gap in my vocabulary where the word for this feeling should be, but whatever, I'm not worried. At least I'm not depressed, anymore. I've just been obsessing over the idea of death the last few days, because, you know, death anxiety is a part of my core personality at this point.

That said, I've been getting good work done, Shadows is coming out in two days, I've lost a bunch of weight, and it's finally nice out outside. Warm days, sunlight, no snow or ice. It's just really nice being able to spend time outside lately.

Also, there's a new Ariana Grande album out, so. Yes. Now I'm just waiting on Lorde, honestly.

That's me, that's my life: an endless wait for a million albums to come out. I'm okay with it.

My Three Wishes

I'm reading the Fire Wish, by Amber Lough, and aside from making me drool over its beautiful cover, this book is making me wish I had a genie lamp so I could get my three wishes.

And they would be, in no particular order;

• The ability to shape-shift at my will.
• That every time I reached into my pocket I would find a crisp 100 dollar bill waiting for me, or the equivalent in the currency of whichever country I was currently in.
• A better singing voice.

I could wish for dead family members to come back, but I feel like the dead should stay dead. I could wish to run a country, but I would probably fuck it up. I could wish for world peace, but that's probably impossible and the genie would just slap me. I could wish to free the genie, but it would probably kill me or something, so I wouldn't.

And that's that. I like money and magical powers and, although I don't hate my singing voice, I'd like a better one.

What would you wish for? (You can't wish for more wishes. I see you bitch.)

I'm not afraid of a fucking yeti - I'm just cautious, okay?

In defense of my father, Bigfoot could be real. Mind you, when I say "could" I mean it in the same way I do when I tell you that I *could* probably survive being shot. That I *could* become a bio-engineer someday. Which is to say, probably fucking not, but I like to keep a sense of wonder about me.

Why am I bringing up Bigfoot? Well, because a Sasquatch probably could survive being shot, if one did exist. And because my dad is fucking obsessed with them for some reason.

Seriously, I think I've been forced to sit through more history and science channel specials than a damn junior high teacher. My dad is like, the official unofficial Sasquatch expert. But this week the Bigfoot obsession has been kicked into overdrive - as in, while we're all sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner, he's got the iPad propped up beside his plate watching documentaries about the hunt for the Yeti. Yeah, welcome to my world.

But the thing is, today, I had one of those Reese Witherspoon "I should embrace nature" kind of moments and, in my basicness, went outside to do just that. So, picture this: me, wearing a hoodie, swim trunks, and boat shoes with no socks on, wading through knee-deep snow in the middle of the woods out back.

I swear, I'm not one of those straight boys who walks around in shorts in the winter to prove his masculine and hetero he is. . . namely because I'm not a boy and because I'm miles away from hetero and because masculinity honestly bores me . . but also because I'm really just too lazy to change out of my pajamas even in the winter.

So here I am, half-dressed in the snow, in the middle of the woods, and I just think well, this is fucking creepy. Because I was focused on those stupid Yeti videos and how a Sasquatch could totally tear my limbs off my body and like, eat my heart out of my chest or something, and I wouldn't even be able to run away because I was wearing those stupid boat shoes with no socks, and my feet were slipping all over and oh my god was that a branch breaking? Why am I still standing here????

I swear, I know Yetis don't fucking exist. Where I'm from, a yeti is just another name for a popper with weed and tobacco (which I can pop, but not without crying). So I'm not afraid of a fucking yet - I'm just cautious, okay?

And now, I need to get back to work. Well, after I go and close the curtains, y'know, just in case someone who is totally not a yeti is spying from the woods. . .