Despite my recent post about not understanding the need to put so much money into book trailers, I saw one recently that I very much liked. The book is a Spanish-language YA fantasy entitled La Estrella (The Star), and the trailer was lovely.

A young man marked by a curse.
A village hiding the biggest secret ever to be kept.
A love as dangerous as it is impossible.
A world whose surface is forever undergoing changes…when getting lost is the equivalent of death.

Not being currently addicted to an MMO is in one sense great, as it leaves me more time to work, to catch up on reading, etc. Not having a current MMO is also a bad thing, in that it feels as though I have this huge hole with nothing in it. I really miss my escape, my retreat into alternate universes.

SWTOR:
After my Inquisitor hit 50, and Phil stopped playing, I eventually cancelled my subscription. There were other storylines that I wanted to experience, such as the Imperial Agent, Bounty Hunter and Smuggler, but the thought of levelling back through all of that content, this time alone, just left me cold. I loved the story, but it wasn’t enough to justify a game subscription when we’re both freelancing (and quite broke).

Rift:
I inadvertently discovered that they hadn’t cancelled my subscription. When I first started playing, I had signed up for the founder’s sub which renewed every six months (I think). It must have renewed again for six months and I missed it in the bank account. I really hate subs that assume that you want to be billed automatically – I’d prefer the choice to opt in to that. Logged in, played a few times, but I was no longer in a guild, I didn’t know anyone else who was playing, and I had to re-learn what all my characters were doing.

Warcraft:
Since in a moment of madness I’d signed up for the Annual Subscription, I have an active WoW account. I just don’t want to do anything with it at the moment. I have, what, five 85s and don’t want to raid or do instances on any of them. As much as I still love the game, Warcraft is crawling with asshats: epeen raiders, Gearscore tards, the GoGoGo guy, etc. I rolled a character on a roleplaying realm, but nothing seemed to be happening there. I log in every now and then for Darkmoon Faire, but not much else.

Aion
Aion went f2p, which was nice, but again I think that ship has sailed. I logged in a few times, looked at my Templar, and couldn’t remember the slightest thing about tanking with her. Logged out, fortunately before getting ganked which always really pisses me off. Another factor in not playing Aion, even in f2p form: I’m very much not a fan of non-consensual pvp.

I miss being in love. I miss being excited when I know I have a full day to play a new game, and playing for sixteen hours straight. I miss that stage where you’re playing so much that it invades your dreams at night.

GW2 can’t come fast enough.

I’m trying to draw every day, just quick pen and ink sketches, maybe with a wash of colour. Drawing for me is hard (which is why I do so much photomanipulation). Today I figured why not do something that was deliberately cartoonish, rather than agonising over every line? Just a quick sketch of a fat lady with tiny feet, just for fun. No worries about perspective or foreshortening, about the proper angles and planes of the face…just something silly and fun.

Perhaps that would work for writing, as well…

Almost a week into the heachache from hell, six or seven days lost to pain like burned fields behind my eyes. I can feel the nerves, black and singed, tangled in skeins running back from my shut eyes. Thoughts are lost, rolling like marbles beneath the bed, forgotten. Trying to work is hard, nothing comes from it – not sure if it is a disconnect on the project that I am working on, or just my jangled mind that won’t form images into a coherent whole.

Thoughts snarl and tangle, hanging like slutswool from barbed wire. Cold wind, bare trees, grey cloud muffling sound. The house is fallen in along one side, hearthstones cold and wet, black with the memory of flame. Holding onto thoughts is like trying to gather drifted leaves in winter, they fall to leafdust and smell of mold on the skin.

Another cup of tea, and one of coffee. Is caffeine bad? I can’t tell. Toast with strawberry jam and false butter. Chemicals and caffeine run through my blood, but fade away before they reach my tangled nappy head. Rotten and fragile, it hangs heavy on my neck, avoiding touch and light and noise. Dizzy, I lay down to read on the bed, pulling the pillow to the bottom of the bed and lying reversed with the grey light from the window falling on the white page. Reading is countermanded but necessary, as I am lonely and bored. Foolishness, feeling sorry for myself.

This was gorgeous.

Let me tell you how I woke up this morning.

At 6:00 am I woke with a pounding headache to the sound of our 30-lb cat wheezing and purring behind my head. *wheeze/purr* *wheeze/purr* rather like an old alky with emphysema and fish breath might sound. I roll over, give him a quick pet, and encourage him back onto the floor.

He lands on Laurence, the cat who hates his guts, who has been waiting by the side of the bed. Because they’re all, you know, wasting away to nothing and need to be fed, stat. I begin to sit up.

Next thing I know, Fat Cat has been propelled at great speed, like a sack of potatoes hurled from a trebuchet, smack into my face, whipping my neck and head back. Do you know how much force a panicked cat the size and weight of a small child has when thrown into your face?

I still have the headache. Plus whiplash. And a few deep scratches and punctures. And now the cats are having a fight downstairs.

Anyone want a cat? Totally free. I may even pay you to take one home.