I feel like my week would be well represented with a stick figure dragging itself across a highway like a turtle. A search for an appropriate stick figure unwittingly leads me into a tantalizing foray into greater minds, and as I watch them whizzing past my head in their limoblogs, still dazed in a backlash of recent pain shock and another plunge into the inevitable spelunking of life's ridiculous overwhelming interruptions, I have to remind myself I can do this, I have awesome stuff, it's worth the effort, and more than anything, it's important.
I've gotta recluse, I'm sorry. I'll try to pop out on twitter, and who knows, maybe I'll feel differently tomorrow or next week, but I've gotta go deep if I'm going to get some of this done. For people unfamiliar with Asperger's, this has nothing to do with rabbit hole slang around sex, drugs, or web surfing, but I definitely go down a rabbit hole. I've been leaving a trail of crumbs ever since April Fool's Day, and it terrorizes me that I'm really going there.
It's Bluejacky's turn to write.
