I aten't dead.

This week has been pretty exhausting. I'll get back to blogging eventually, and maybe someday answer my comments but right now I'm just too pooped to do anything but argue on twitter and muck around on tumblr. I'm really just dropping this note to try and get my brain back into the updating this blog mindset.

From what was once the cutting edge

Wednesday I got my bundle of comics with Green Lantern Corps #41 in it. It was awesome, and I wanted to blog my reactions but reviews seem rather pointless when the next two chapters of the story come out the day you can do the review. I hate being so far behind. I loved blogging and reading other blogs when I was up to date, but some of the joy is lost in being so far behind. That's why I was never a "wait for the trade" person, because part of the fun in serial storylines is talking with other people about the storyline as the chapters come out.

When it came to comics discussion, I felt like I had to be at the forefront back then. Never was that way with fashion or tech or real life gossip, but I always had to be the first to know which character changed their costume to what and which artist created that monstrosity before anyone else even saw the picture. And if I wasn't the first to see it, by heaven I'd be the first to link the first person who saw it.

That's what made When Fangirls Attack such a good gig for me back when I still had the time. It enabled me to be the one on the cutting edge of the latest major discussion. It was my role. I was the scout who explored the great wide wilderness of the Internet and let the rest of us know what was out there. I took a great deal of joy in it, knowing that people looked at me to know things. I even got resentful at the people who were even just half a step ahead of me when it came to finding links.

It was an extremely pleasant time for me, despite my continual rants. Life happens, though. I found myself no longer able to be in the first wave on the Internet, so I doubled my efforts to be the first to know at the office. I'm now one of the first people the boss asks when he needs to know where a project is. I threw myself into work, and as a result am doing better careerwise than ever before in my life. I might even make Tech this year if I can get into studying.

I don't do things halfway. My writing's almost completely stopped as a result of this focus. Even more sadly, I've drifted away from the people I only connected to because I was part of a community of writers. Everytime I catch up on my RSS feeds I think out it. There's people I used to spend hours talking to on IM or livejournal or blog comments that I only read now. And slowly I trim just a few more people off the reader each month. I've gone from an active participant in a thriving community to a passive participant in a quiet community. And that's not really a bad thing. It's just change.

You always miss the past a bit, especially on long Sunday afternoons when you're catching up on comic books and the lives of old friends.

If I'm not careful I might end up someone who never blogs.

I'm trying to keep from falling into month-long periods without writing a word, but life gets in the way.  I have fun ideas for blog posts and stories that keep getting put off.  This job is much meatier than my last, or I'm just listless right now.  My week's been interesting to live through at least.

This morning I woke up and noticed missed messages on my phone.  I'd been waiting on a coworker to call and tell me he didn't need me to drive out of my way to pick him up, so I figured that was the message.  My conscience wouldn't let me leave his travel to chance, so I called back the number to doublecheck.

A deep voice answered with the name of the Maintenance Chief. I rolled my eyes and told my coworker that was very funny.  After the third insistence I realized this was indeed the chief of maintenance who'd tried to call me the other night.  He'd wanted me to let him into the building, since I was the building manager.  When I hung up and hurried because I actually had to pick up the coworker now, I comforted myself that I wasn't as bad off as that Congresswoman who hung up twice on the President.  And I avoided a very embarrassing conversation, because on Sunday I'd closed the car door on my dropped set of keys, bending the master key to the building (and my house key, and my apartment key--which led to waiting in the snow for the landlord to drive up with a new set on a day all of the locksmiths are closed--GOOD TIMES!) and I hadn't gotten around to replacing/bending it back.

In the afternoon I drove two hours and got lost in a hospital only to find that the doctor who referred me to this new office hadn't actually written out any diagnosis notes for the lady I needed to see.  My real first session was postponed so that she could track down my doctor, and in the interim I can try yawning.

Prior to that I found myself being sharply reminded by the flight chief that my job title is "technician" and not "file clerk" even though I am responsible for all of the files in the office.  I swore I'd never be that woman in the office who does all the clerical work, and here I am doing all the clerical work.  Why am I doing all the clerical work?  Because the boss needed someone to organize the papers and those idiots I work with wouldn't know organized if they tripped over a sorted and labeled pile of it in the lovecraftian pit of disrepair that we laughingly call a workshop.  (To be fair it may indeed be a workshop, but I've yet to see the tables cleared so I have my doubts.)  Also, I was the "New Guy" at the time the additional duty involving filing opened up.

This is all a typical day for me right now.

So I've been a bit too tired to write substantially.  Instead I've been amusing myself with Twitter.  Last night I suggested to Canton that Black Widow--who is in her 70s but still looks to be in her 20s due to funky Russian supersoldier experiments--isn't using epic birth control, but rather is post-menopausal.  From there we pounded out a premise for what is either the most awful or most awesome miniseries on the Internet--BLACK WIDOW: HOT FLASH.

We're bad people, yes.

(The title was Canton's idea.)