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But they are grinding.
At least I hope.
It's had its ups and downs, but I swear, one of these days I'm going to invent a device that allows me to transcribe falling-asleep thoughts, because I've written the equivalent several next chapters in my head for all my stories when I'm TRYING to sleep.
But when I'm awake, and sitting at the computer? That muse slips away to dreamland and there's not word one to be found.
But I'm hoping for a break through shortly. More details as I can provide them
I've been doing some test writing (not FTMD related), just to get in the habit of putting myself back at the computer when I can and writing.
I'm hoping the general upward trend means that I will be posting some stuff soon. I won't promise what I can't keep, but I'm hopeful.
It looks like we're finally kicking things in to gear, getting better health wise. The prescriptions that I was without I now have once again (and it does make a huge difference), and I have an appointment later this week to get fit for the CPAP. I hope this means this weekend I can get back to writing.
Thank you all for your support and well-wishes, let's continue to take the next step right?
To those who never grew old.
To those americans who took the proverbial "King's Shilling" and served and lost everything.
Thank you.
Some will say that the conflicts America has participated in since the defense of world-freedom in World War II are ignoble. I will not judge. That is not what we do this day. Let others debate whether the causes were noble or ignoble.
I care not.
You were drafted, or you volunteered, and you served. And you died.
"Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.
Thank you.
We remember.
We will not let the flame that you kindled die, even though you have.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
((I will have a regular update later in the week on my health and current writing status, but this was more important)
I'm still not doing great, but I'm doing better then I was. Thank you for your kind words.
I still want to write.
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