(no subject)

I feel better now than I did earlier, though that is not saying much. And I will probably get guilt over the 200g of chocolate soon. Ho-hum. And I'm sitting drinking Miller even though it's, y'know, dishwater, because there are plenty of cans of it in the kitchen. Because they were bought for a party and, oddly enough, didn't get drunk.

And I can't even work out what the graph I'm supposed to draw is actually of. Well, I know what it's of, but I don't get how it relates to the equations. And I suck at programming, and I hate this whole thing, and guess what? I'll probably go to bed now, because it seems the only way to make sure I do that is to threaten me with work. Sigh again.

Fuck it. Don't care. Games it is.

(no subject)

Of course, now I have work to do, I want to write. It's a stupid idea anyway and I'm not gonna, but still. And I am not going to cold turkey prior to leaving the country just to save myself the medication hassle, because I didn't take my drugs last night and I spent the day huddled dreaming in bed covered in sweat. So much so that my fingers were pruning. Ick. I just went and stripped the bed, and of course there was a cat there and it was a bit annoyed at me. But stuff is in wash, and I showered and ate and drank and actually feel quite all right now.

Maybe I'll get some work done later. Though I doubt it. Ugh.

(no subject)

OK, I've written a snip, so this idea can just leave me the hell alone for the time being. Please.

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Summary: Carson takes some information to Rodney and is subsequently outraged. Future-fic, maybe ten years?
Rating: A bit of swearing, mention of death, that's all.
Length: 400-ish words.
Notes: OK, this fits into a big future-fic idea, where the Wraith and the Goa'uld are at war and the humans are skipping around trying to survive and sabotage, and I may have stolen the basic idea from someone else but I don't know who. But now I have these ideas for what they're all doing - the ones that are still alive, that is - and I am just not going to write it. The most that will happen is another few snippets. Later. Much, much later. Really.

( huzzah for post-apoc-ish )