Numerically interesting as it was, my anniversary blog entry was also my 50th entry here. However, it really was so depressing, and the ensuing week so depressing, that I hesitated to post anything else. This is more depressing, self-pitying shit. You’ve been warned. Skip down about two thirds of the way if you’d rather just read the good news. I do have some, I promise.
At the beginning of March, I came down with a horrible toothache. After stress with finding a dentist, insurance, and other things I’ve been putting off, it came down to me having to have the tooth pulled in three weeks time, after the infection was handled. I was in pain several more days until the antibiotics kicked in, leaving me taking much more ibuprofen and acetaminophen than was strictly healthy. I have a fairly high pain tolerance, but my jaw hurt from my chin to my ear and the constancy of it was just grinding me down.
Still, the pain faded, and when the appointment at the end of the month came around, I thought I was okay with pulling the tooth. Until I was actually in the dentist chair. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I was numbed up plenty and, aside from the shots, it didn’t really hurt. They took out the molar and asked if I wanted to remove the wisdom tooth on that side as well since I was all numbed up already. I shook my head, and also refused the bone graft I would need if I was going to get an implant to replace the tooth. I could feel myself beginning to get anxious, the kind where I flee and lock myself in my room for as long as humanly possible. It’s been a good while since I’ve been that bad because, living alone, I can hide in my whole apartment.
I managed to pay my bill, make my next appointment, and get into the car before sobbing.
As I said, I wasn’t in pain. Even after the numbing shots wore off, I wasn’t really in pain. I probably took six ibuprofen in the four days following when I had a scrip I didn’t even fill for Tylenol with codeine. So it wasn’t the pain, not physically. But in my head, I was freaking traumatized. It was part there-is-a-permanent-part-of-my-face-that’s-just-been-ripped-out-of-my-head and part gross-disgusting-toothless-mess-loser. Any self-esteem I had over anything at all was completely gone. I was broken.
I drove myself home and crawled into bed. I’d only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before but disgusting-hole was bleeding so I didn’t really want to sleep right then anyway. A friend of mine had lent me a dvd set of an anime series. I told her I’d give it a try, even though neither manga or anime are really my thing. Occasionally the drawing style can be cool, but I suppose I feel too old for it. Because in my head I am, and have always been, about eighty-four.
Of course, I watched the entire first season straight through and whined until she found the second season online for me. She also hastily recommended a companion series. I did little else for two days. This was in part because my Johnlock obsession apparently makes me partial to yaoi anime and partly because it was a fantastic distraction from the gross-me-disgusting feelings I had every time I turned it off.
I should not know, at eighty-four mental years, what yaoi means, nor seme and uke. (Seriously, I had to look the conventions of the category up because it’s got some pretty specific rules that were obvious even in the very little I watched.)
Anyway, I’d taken a couple of days off work because I wasn’t sure how bad I would feel and I didn’t really want to feel bad at work or call in sick. I spent the better part of my time in bed, mostly watching anime but sometimes writing. I’ve been very bad about the writing this month. First I was miserable and couldn’t think for a whole minute straight, then I puttered about with it and didn’t get nearly as far as I would have liked to. I wanted to have my Huntsman story done, for instance, but that hasn’t happened yet. It keeps getting to 9 days or more between posting updates. I think Huntsman went almost a month.
I just topped 70,000 words on my Regency Sherlock story, which does make me happy. Until, of course, I had to go through it tonight to find out what I’d said about the plot so that I didn’t contradict myself or forget a hastily devised plot point that would have simply left an open hole (much like the one in my mouth) as I finished the story without ever revisiting the outcome of that chapter. Ahem. Seventy thousand words and 58 chapters is an awful lot to skim through and take notes on.
Oh, and Russians. Because I had to look at my title to remind myself that I did have a HAPPY thing to post today. Perhaps I should have started with this so that people wouldn’t be sick of my self-indulgent bullshit long before I got to mention it. A few weeks ago, someone contacted me through both FF.net and AO3 and asked if she could translate Lazarus Machine into Russian and post it. At first I didn’t reply, not really knowing how that would work and what would be expected of me, but finally I said, sure, go ahead. I mean, it’s not like I can be screwed out of royalties or anything since it’s just for fun. So here it is: http://ficbook.net/readfic/693739. Six chapters are up so far, I think.
I do have to admit, it is a little exciting to translate the page and see the (horribly indecipherable) comments translated into some form of English. I mean, all writers are comment-whores at heart, are we not? So 49 extra comments from the other side of the planet from people who never would have read it since it was only in English? Bonus. So that did brighten my day a little. So thank you ukatan92/ummi for the massive amount of hard work I see in your future.
This entry is definitely disjointed, and I could have more to say (whine more, it’s never ending) but I think I’m going to leave it as is. Next entry will be a few Regency Sherlock chapters to make up for all the rest of this. 🙂