Not dead yet.

Nor do I intended to be any time soon, because really, things are going swimingly. I’m busy as all beejeezus, but in a really good way. Loving my loveable girlfriend, writing reviews for Buzzscope, getting everything squared away with being able to move, packing things for the move, arranging how exactly I’m going to move things, getting more stuff on eBay so I can have more money (which I’m fond of), loving my loveable girlfriend, keeping my apartment ready for them to show it to potential renters at any second because they apparently just can’t wait until I’m moved out, loving my loveable girlfriend, trying to get through a wicked patch of insomnia, trying to figure out if I should sell my car, paying all my bills, loving my lovable girlfriend and, oh yes, being madly in love.

It’s what keeps me going, really, looking forward to the time when we’re going to be together full time. It feels like I’m just scuba diving for the next seven weeks or so, holding my breath and swimming until she gets here, and while I’m swiming moving everything around in my coral underwater fish castle so all is ready for her. This really bad metaphor has been brought to you in the spirit of me giving really bad metaphors lately (which isn’t really even lately, I’m bad at them all the time, which kind of makes me wonder why I call myself a writer, but then again there are other ways to describe things than metaphorically). I’m not going back on my “no more metaphor” policy.

I’m also feeling a little wiped from all the pressure lately, snapping at people at work, not being particularly charitable and just having a lot of those days where you wish you could just set people on fire instead of actually talking to them. I’m glad that Kenzie is around though, because a) she’s the only person I can talk to and not be snappish with and b) when I think of her I feel better. Just when I’ve got the lighter fluid out of my pocket, I think of her and I just put it away. Maybe fire *isn’t* the answer…

I think I’m just exhausted. I feel good, on the whole, and I feel like everything is going right, and that I never thought that things could be this good with anyone, at all, and the weirdest thing is that it’s not scary. It’s comforting and makes me feel like a real boy, not a wooden one. But I’ve still gone through the past few days just…tired. I don’t know if I’m stressed about all the stuff I have to do before moving and at work and all that and I’m just not processing it any other way than not being able to rest when it’s time to rest or if it’s just a kind of thing that happens to me occasionally. I can lay there, be perfectly tired and ready to sleep and it just won’t come. I hate how I make it sound like some big deal, because it’s not, really, it just replaces me with a zombie.

A busy, fast zombie, who has a review to write, things to pack and a girlfriend to love.

Imperial, I remain…