it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken

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They'll tell you all the girls are monsters, all the boys are whores.

Apparently, the post-novel ennui has finally, in a much-delayed fashion, arrived. I am snappish, self-loathing, short-tempered, without a span of attention, prickly, and generally craving introversion. So, of course, when is the next day I have to myself?

...looks like sometime after World Fantasy.

On the other hand, I did have a nice walk today, and mostly managed to keep to myself except for on the internets (which I can handle even at my most introverted) and one long phone call with my mom while I went for a walk up to Elizabeth Park and back. Also, I Did Something to my elbow while helping netcurmudgeon wreck his shed, and I'm thinking about taking the rest of the week off from the gym to see if it will mend itself, as it hasn't been, so much. Except I really need the exercise. Not that I'm losing any weight, but man, you should see my muscles. And if I'm already in a bad brain chemical place, regular exercise is one of the few things that will keep it from turning into a terrible brain chemical place.

Anyway, lovely walk. I hiked up to Elizabeth Park and walked around the rose garden a little. It's not dripping masses of bloom any more, but there's still a scattering of pretty flowers, and it's a nice walk, through a mostly-Victorian working-class neighborhood hung with shade trees.

I saw one rose that really pleased me. Carefree Delight, a single pink rose without much scent. Pink roses are not my favorite (pink anything is not my favorite) but this one was particularly neat. The closed buds are a striking salmon, and when the rose opens, its pale baby pink.

...except for the one petal on the outside, which remains bright dark salmon on the outside.

The blossoms are small, about the size of oh, a silver dollar. And there are lots of them. Very pretty.

Here's another.

In other news, I've just been reminded that I owe somebody an alternate history story that I have no idea how to write. See above, the self-loathing and feelings of stress.

I need to arrange my life to have less Things in it. And still somehow manage to see my friends.

I know, everybody should have such problems. I am feeling hibernatory, though.

Ah well. Perhaps I will commit yoga to the Squirrel Nut Zippers. That can't fail but perk me up.
Tags: horticulture (no really: horticulture)

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