I'm almost certain that if there were Celestial Gamblers, they'd be taking bets right now on the length of time before my sanity snaps. *pttt* just like that, like a fresh sugar-snap pea when you break it in half. This is largely due to work, and self-preservation has dictated certain measures to keep this bit of grey matter intact - namely Stressing Out and Hissing the minute I get home.
That being said, it's done nothing for my praiseworthy, if unexecuted, plans to do Illustration Friday either, dammitall. I mean, I -have- half a blue-lined sketch sitting nicely in my journal. It's just not coloured -nor- inked.
It shall be done within the next few days. Oh yes it shall be, lest the brain turn to mush, and mush be de-evolved into sewage.
Ahem. Babble, yes.
So people have been talking about fantasy self-portraits, said a little bird flitting in on the Wings of EDM Listmail. Not going to do that, sez she, oh no no, I cannot, I cannot, saith the lady who doth protest too much.
So she promptly sat down and spent an hour hissing and in the Spirit of Not Going To Do That, offered up the sacrificial goat below:
Self-control? What's -that-?
It's called Digital Fox, the story behind that being when I first met my present SO, he used to call me his Digital Vixen Princess (and still does, for the record.)
No it doesn't look like me. The REAL me is nothing like that.
Cue the raspberries, la-di-da-di-da, and the spit valves.