Book's over and done with. I worried for ages (read : "I lost sleep over it and turned into Mistress Crabby") that I wouldn't be able to finish it on time, to have enough material for it, etc.

I sent it on the day I was supposed to, it was bigger than I thought and on the same day, I developped the worst case of hay fever I've had in years.

Now, I worry about the future as usual. What am I going to do next ? Right now, freelancing isn't exactly great and rewarding. I've lost a job I had doing interviews and reviews for a big web portal. The girly magazine I was writing for since last Summer has stopped calling me because the editor in chief has changed or something.

Prospects are dire.

I'm seriously thinking of waitressing on the side.  Or taking a job cleaning or something, because I'm no good at doing anything besides writing and translating. And cleaning.

This is sort of depressing. I'm fed up of the whole rat race of freelancing. I made a big mistake when I decided to walk that road, but eh, my life is a series of mistakes, so I don't really care. 

I'm a cockroach. I'll survive this blow. And the next one. 

Blythou out.

My mother called. Yesterday, my sister left a horrible message on my voicemail, but as usual, she had excuses...

My mother refuses to see that my sister is seriously unhinged. She used to just be depressive but now she's turned into a proper paranoid loony, she's aggressive and two-faced. In front of my mother, she plays the victim, the sad little girl who just wants to be loved. Behind her back, she's a violent, nasty person who talks between her teeth and can physically abuse you. 

She's already nearly knocked me out cold, beaten me up a few times (my mother said it was just sibling bickering. Yeah, we both were in our thirties).

I've tried to ram some sense into my mother, to no avail. I feel like I've wasted an hour of my life... It's just exhausting. My mother's convinced that once they've moved out of their house, everything will be fine. Oh, but of course. My sister will turn into a loving, caring person, they'll find a pot of gold and they'll live happily ever after in a world filled with carebears, ponies, rainbows and fluffy kittens who never lose their fluff on the carpet.

And if moving houses isn't magic, my mother told me she thought of suicide. Nothing's here new. She's talked about it ever since I was a kid. So now I'm in the "go ahead, I dare you" frame of mind.

I don't know how I ended up not being more seriously messed up than I am. Wow.

BTW, I've stopped considering them both as "family". Yeah, we have a common DNA, but that's all there is. I've just signed legal papers to ensure that, in case I die, Thierry will inherit everything. Thank God for him and my friends.

Blythou out.

Things are so fleeting. Change is always coming and never for the best.

My work situation isn't that bright again. I'm fed up of the whole freelance situation sometimes, fed up of DEMANDING the money they owe me.

Years ago, I thought I should be more open, form more bonds, more friendships... But it just hurts in the long run. I no longer want to be attached to people. I should get back to my old, cold ways. Thinking one of my oldest, closest friend will probably move out to thousands of miles away is just dispiriting. I'm just selfish here, but eh, it's my fucking life and I've got the right to say it's just not fun to be in my place right now.

Because being me seriously sucks.

blythou out.

Yesterday, after midnight, my cellphone and then our home phone rang. Thierry went to answer while I was checking my voicemail. My mother has been a victim of attempted burglary and in her customary style, she had the most extreme hysterical reaction and asked Thierry to come and stay the night in their house.
Of course, I wasn't invited along. My hysterical sister wouldn't have wanted me around, probably, since I'm Satan and Hitler's spawn.

So I spent the night alone, wondering why, oh why, do I have a crazy, nutty, hysterical family who expects us to fix everything because we have to, since we're so lucky, rich, happy, successful, etc.

I'm fed up of all the drama my family thrives on. I just want them to disappear and no longer expect me to fix magically everything for them after listening to their endless complaints.

I'm selfish, probably... But one of the reasons I chose to remain child-free (until I couldn't choose anymore for health reasons), was that I couldn't cope with another sizeable responsibility after dealing with an immature mother and a sister who will probably end her days locked in a mental institution. No kidding.

I currently can't start to think of the list of things we'll have to deal with following all this drama. They'll want to move, sell the house, which is understandable, but guess who will have to listen, help and magically fix ?

Blythou out.

… why I'm no longer into Blythes.

I used to love it when it was a relatively underground hobby, when there were few & well done websites, etc... Now the whole thing has turned into a mayhem. Everyone has an Etsy store selling the same stuff. Everyone customises their dolls because if you don't, you're not really into Blythe or whatever. Everyone has a crappy Blythe page where the same infos are rehashed to d

Blythe has become a cheapened commodity. I'm sick of seeing the ugly customs popping up everywhere. But more than that, I'm sick of all the morons that get attracted to her.

I've always had a hard time fitting into large communities, liking really popular stuff. Call me elitist or snobbish, I won't mind, I know I am. I just have a tough time liking something that girls who have no taste & no brains like. It scares me.

On the other hand, I feel sad and lonely inside without Blythe in my life... I hardly ever crochet, I've given up on the idea of sewing again, piles of unused clothes are accumulating on my shelves and unattended dolls are scattered around. And I no longer take a single photo even though I really wanted to get better at it.

I can't wait for the moronic hordes to turn their moronic attention to something else. Please, go away, ok ? You've ruined so much for me already.

Blythou out.

Depressing weather outside. No plans for the night (but plans for tomorrow night). Chores to take care of. Worries piling on.

How long has it been since I've really, really looked forward to doing something ? Probably last year, before going to Tokyo. Or before my latest book got released...

Stop whining, ok ? You're annoying me already <-- that's what my inner voice keeps telling me. She's right. As always.

Blythou out.

... my mother in law gave me for my b-day ?

A bottle of maple sirup which she knows I don't like (but Thierry loves it, so that what really matter to her) and a package of cookies that are full of assorted nuts and of course... Yes, you've guessed right, chocolate. She also added a tiny amount of cash, less than half she'd given me last year.

My question is : why did she even bother ? She bought one thing I'm allergic to, the other that I don't like (and yes, she knows I'm allergic to chocolate and don't like maple sirups and anything sweet for that matter). And she gives me a ridiculous amount of money, hardly enough to buy a dress at H&M maybe... It's insulting. You either give a proper sum for a b-day or nothing at all. 

I know I sound ungrateful, but she's loaded, she constantly gives money to charity, so when she gives me half of what she gave me last year, it's clearly her way of making me feel cheap.

Oh and to top of it off, she added a couple of sneaky remarks about how it was weird to see a woman over 30 with really long hair.


FUCK YOU.

Blythou out.

Apparently, we won't be able to go to Japan in January. Thierry has to work then and I don't feel like leaving him in Paris while I'm having a good time in Tokyo by myself.

I can't hide the fact that I'm pooped... Going to Tokyo had given me my traveling mojo back and I'm afraid I'll lose it again. Oh well, we'll see.

I feel like a spoiled kid, whining about not *going to Tokyo again*.

Today, the weather is bleak and miserable. It affects my mood somehow. Don't pay attention, I'll be back to my usual neurotic hyper self in no time.

Blythou out.

She arrived yesterday. She just wasn't delivered to my door, because stupid postman didn't ring my buzzer or left a fucking note in my mailbox. Just like he did with MRM.

So now, I'll have to go and queue at the post office to retrieve my package. And since I paid for an express delivery which means MY FUCKING PACKAGE SHOULD BE DELIVERED TO ME, I don't feel like going to the post office at all.

Today, I've got two interviews to do, an article to finish and mail, plus household stuff to do. I don't have time to waste on a trip to the post office. Of course, I really, really, really want to have my new doll, but the stupidly headstrong part of me tells me not to go retrieve her.

Yes, I'm dumb.
I know.

Blythou out.

Except it's a Tuesday.

The day started poopily with an Internet shortage while I was trying to browse my favorite websites while sipping my post-breakfast cup of green tea. Nothing upsets me more than a break in my comforting morning routine. I'm not a morning person at all, so I need little habits like those to make the whole "getting-out-of-bed-rise-and-shine" grind bearable.

My new doll has supposedly arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport and has left for delivery, but she hasn't made it yet. I need to buy fruit and vegs, it's beautiful outside, but there's no way I can go outside right now... If only the cats were trained to open the door to the mailman...

On a happier note, Pauline/dollishrubbish  (who brought me from Tokyo the Fall Whisper outfit just texted me to tell me she had a little something for me. I sometimes have faith in humanity for a few fleeting seconds ;-)

Here's a pic of Eleanor (previously known as Violet) wearing her new outfit :




Next on my list, take photos of the new Funny Bunny tees and the House Of Pinku dresses I bought for the girls.

Blythou out.

My neighbours, those with the brats from hell, are back. With them, are back the constant screaming, banging, basketball bouncing, etc. of their ugly-ass monsters.

I've already asked them to please do something about the noise (since educating their kids is out of the question, why not soundproof their room ?) and they ignored me. I warned them before that I had plenty of loud records at hand but I was too nice to play them at full volume.

Well, they did some work in their brats' lair this summer, but no soundproofing. So every wednesday, when the monsters are at play, I'll pick the loudest, most obnoxious records we own, crank them loud enough so they can fully enjoy the, err, nuances and I'll lock myself in the living room to work thanks to the wi-fi.

Oh, the joy...

Now, what evil deeds can I do to retaliate against Rude First Floor neighbour who parks her huge stroller ALWAYS IN EVERYBODY'S WAY and never closes doors behind herself, including the building door, which is a major safety hazard, not to mention that bums tend to think our lobby is the perfect place to pee ? Oh, and when you ask her to please close the door, she snubs you, shrugs and does nothing...

I'm fed up of being polite with assholes. And I mean REALLY FED UP. Yeah, in caps.

Blythou out.

There's a CD that's currently stuck in the CD/DVD player of my laptop. The player looks and sounds broken. Which means I'll have to send it to Apple to get it fixed. Which means I won't have it for at least a week.

And you know the worst ? The CD stuck into it is an Abba compilation.

Shame. On. Me.


Blythou out.

It's that time of year. Three days of rock music starting tomorrow. The next two days will be next week.

Sadly, I'll have to cover the Rage Against The Machine exclusive show tomorrow. And I HATE them. They're loud, dumb and way overrated. And frankly, if they had any revolutionary ideas in their songs, I'm pretty sure I'm fluent enough in English to have noticed by now.

I'll have a few drinks before having to ingest 90 minutes of formated angst and so-called "conscious" songwriting.

Spirit of Bob Dylan, where art thou ?

Blythou out.

Seeing all the pictures of the girls having fun in Tokyo makes me realize how much I would have loved to join them but of course, me being a fucked-up, twisted, neurotic nutcase, I'd rather die than admit it. As usual, I hid under all sorts of excuses. Why ?

Because I'm just unable to have fun.

Especially girly fun. You know, the kind. I get antsy everytime I feel like I'm wasting a minute of my precious time (which I won't use anyway), I can't relax, I don't do things girls do (spend hours shopping for dolls, eat candy, you get the gist of it)... Yet, I'd looooove to be able to do it once before it's too late, before I'm too old to pretend I'm a girl and not a woman.

I'm such a sorry waste of oxygen, sometimes.

Blythou out.

I've just received the monthly I write for... My 5-page feature has been cancelled and replaced by a tribute to my dead friend, Nikola. I don't mind it, of course.

BUT... I would have loved to be aware of this beforehand...

AND MOST OF ALL I WOULD HAVE LOVED TO BE ASKED TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR HIS TRIBUTE FOR FUCKING FUCK'S SAKE !

They've asked people he didn't consider friends, including one he clearly disliked... but I've been "forgotten".

I'm quitting if I don't receive a proper apology and if I'm not shown a little more respect (right now, they use me, but that's all... My fucking book hasn't even been reviewed in there, while it's been reviewed EVERYWHERE else).

It's just one of these days. Let's hope it's not going to turn into "one of these weeks". Or "one of these months". It already feels like it's been "one of these lives" sometimes.

Blythou out.

All the pics I took Thursday while playing dollies with Tibi are overexposed, blurry messes. Yes, I have used the macro button. No, I didn't use the flash. Yes, I have a mini tripod.

Yes, my camera is officially a piece of crap that only works outdoors.

I was so frustrated that I sent it flying across my office. That piece of shit didn't break, well, at least, it's sturdy.

I'm so angry at the fact that I can NEVER EVER take a decent dolly picture despite multiple efforts (I take a lot of pics, yes, I hardly ever post one), that I've decided to stop entirely. It's almost as awful as not fitting in your favorite clothes anymore because you've eaten too much.

Yes, I could buy a new camera. But I'm sure I'll pick another piece of shit, because I chose cameras according two criteria : it has to be tiny & flat to better fit in my bag (even though I hardly take it outside) and it has to be cute. So yeah, no more photos for me.

I'm now thinking of letting out my anger by destroying my *expensive* and tiny camera. Or maybe, I'll do a double boxing work-out on the wii-fit this afternoon, I'm still unsure.

Blythou out.

I used to love feminist blog jezebel.com, I thought the comments were witty and snarky, the articles were edgy... But now, it's beyond boring.

All comments are either gushing (oooh, that celeb' kid is soooooo adorable, ooooh, Angelina is a saint and she's saving the world) or stupid (beeehhh, cankles ! fatass !). And frankly, I'm also tired of the politically correct slant it's taking (the "crimes against womanhood" column is appalling. Sorry, you don't file in the same category blog posts about rape jokes and about celeb cellulite).

I guess Jezebel has turned to shit because it's becoming bigger and bigger and it wants to please everyone instead of staying in its own little edgy niche. Too bad. I'll find my fix elsewhere.

Blythou out.

I'm just pissed off at my general lack of basic talent. I can't sew, take a proper photo, set up nice living quarters for my girls, I knit and crochet like a kid even though I've been doing it for years, I'm lousy with most things technical.
Things I'm good at ? Controling my body, cooking very basic things, dealing with deadlines. That's not a lot.

I need to have more work soon, I haven't worked that much last week and it's driving me nuts. I need to be busy, otherwise, I start thinking.

And to top it off, I'm more and more anxious at going out on my own. Even for grocery shopping. It takes me longer and longer to manage to leave the house. I should be getting ready right now instead of posting here, but I'd rather procrastinate than going outside where it's sunny and beautiful.

At least, I'm able to post what's going on in my mind here. I hardly ever mention all this to anyone. I sometimes think I'm this old fashioned fifties guy who bottles everything up because emotions shouldn't get out at any cost.

Blythou out.

And now, a little bad postal karma :

Yesterday, the postal assholes that were supposed to deliver again my wii-fit on tuesday tried to deliver it despite me calling a overpriced number to ask tell for a tuesday delivery, pretty please.

While I was at the post office, ANOTHER PACKAGE I was expecting was delivered. Now it's waiting for me at the post office. It's probably Retro Mama. Since I'm in a shitty mood, I don't want to go to the post office, queue again for 35 minutes like yesterday so I'll just leave the package there. If it's sent back to Japan, I don't give a shit.

Blythou out.

The week-end started out nicely. My second book signing went down pretty well, plenty of friendly support there, then we ended the evening with more friendly drinking...

And then came the Sunday of horrors.

We decided to make macaroons with my blythe buddy Isaline. While trying to grab something on a shelf, I got hit by the electric grinder on the forehead : I now have a small gash and a bump,that my bangs can't cover. Thank God I know how to use concealer and make-up.

The macaroons turned out all sticky and strange, but apparently were edible.

Then, while playing our first round of wii of the week-end, we got a phone call from our nice downstair neighboor. Her son's bedroom was getting flooded and the water was coming from our kitchen.

Turns out there was a MAJOR leak behind our sink. It's impossible to stop, so after hours of mopping, emptying basins, etc. we've decided to cut all water supplies in the building for the night. Tomorrow morning a plumber's coming at 10 am, but in the meantime, the kitchen looks like a war zone, the cupboard underneath the sink is ruined and there are pots, pans, tins, etc. all over our flat.

Sigh.

Blythou out.