the stress is real

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I’m buried with work I’d already done before and the stress is real. This at least in part is due to October inching in.

October (Inktober) has been a pain to think about alongside fixing my website and debating about what to do next with my broken hard drive. If you didn’t know about this, feel free to check out my lengthy post on Patreon: A Heated Summer I’m still wondering about alternative storage options which are is just the one, Cloud Storage.

Also check out: All Is Not Well

I can’t for the life of me figure out which one I’m leaning towards for the moment. A part of me believes that having both physical and digital storage is the best way to go but to be completely frank, I don’t have the luxury to be using both. This broke dropout striving to be an entrepreneur is struggling. There’s so much backing up to go through that it’s simply not simple.

There I go again with non-simplicity. Such is life.

Really, such is life.

But I’m not complaining. As far as bad luck goes, I’ve actually gotten out of this relatively well. It could’ve been worse… I believe. I choose to believe.

Things can always go for the worse.

Take for example my recent trip to the beach.
this be one of my best friends.

I’d been looking forward to this outing with my friends and we’d planned it out (not even close to a T but good enough).

I say so because we forgot to bring a shovel to clean out the pit we used. We were ill-prepared when it came to savory food but count on us to have the sweets.

Yum!

Anyway, we ended up cleaning the pit through wit and a bit of hoarding courtesy of my friend’s boyfriend. (Hoarding is an exaggeration of course but wit is definitely precise.) While we attempted to empty the pit of previous beachgoers’ charcoal and sand, a sudden gust of wind picked up.

I mean that literally. The gust of wind picked up a relatively large tent adjacent to us and proceeded to thrust it towards said boyfriend and me. Did it hit him- on the head? It hit me, on the leg. Then continued to fly off over the wood fence separating the parking lot and the beach.

It was funny.

Funny enough that it took me quite a long second to realize I’d been scratched. Maybe it was grazed since I didn’t notice.

Either way, I was hit. I bled in micro-amounts. I retained micro-cuts that hurt like papercuts. You know what I mean. Annoying pain. It was just a scratch, I thought. It was just a scratch until I had to clean it until the pain traveled throughout my leg that night.

The stress is real here too.

I have to redress the wound for a week or until the micro-cuts scab over which they haven’t.

And as annoying as this was, it could’ve been worse.

I think the suckiest part of this all is that we never even got an apology of any kind. Yes, the wind was strong but only their tent flew. I think the lack of care is saddening. It’s almost equal to the annoying contact allergy I get from medical tape. Almost.

But we move on.

We move on because the apology never came and expecting it now would be unreasonable. We would never consciously meet them again. Besides, the tape is itchy and I have better things to do than wait.

Which is why making a decision on storage should be done soon.

My art can’t wait anymore.

I’m ready to continue.

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