It seems that troubling thing I hate more than anything is back- depression. My life has been really good lately- I’m not upset with anything or anyone, I’m just…..whatever. It’s that stupid depression that has nothing to do with circumstances or hormones or anything else that comes to mind as the obvious causes. Anyway. I don’t want to bore y’all. But I’m having a hard time writing the climax of my current novel when all I feel is despondency. It’s like I don’t feel like I have any reason to do anything but blast the soundtracks to Les Mis and Phantom and sit at my window, talking to no one. :/ Oh well. All that to say, I haven’t been writing as much as I would like, and so to meet my 100-pages-a-month quota for Esmeralda, I have 35 pages to pick up in the next two days. Lord willing I’ll make it, but I could use some prayers. So yeah, life’s handing me lemons, and for the life of me I cannot recall the recipe for lemonade.