Story 1

So, if life is a story, I should be telling some stories. I can think of a few of them that relate to me right now, but lets leave those until I've maybe resolved the issues with the people involved, before I go splashing them all over the internet to surprise them with, so lets start with something mundane...

I've always been told I'm a good storyteller, and so I decided a long time ago that a story is never in the story, but in the way it's told. It's all in the technique, my friends, so lets start off with something really boring, and see if we can work that into sounding halfway decent. Here's the story of my week.

I'm not great at going to bed at a decent time. And by 'decent', I mean any time that normal people go to sleep. I start work at 6 in the morning, anywhere between fifteen minutes and two hours away from home, so when I have to leave at 3.30 or 4, going to sleep somewhere around 8 or 9 is the ideal. Thing is, that's never been my style. I have been known to go to sleep at 5pm just so I can get up in the morning, sleeping at 3pm, waking up, then sleeping again at about 11, or staying up ridiculously late for no discernable reason.

Now that the background is out of the way, lets start with Sunday night. Late night. I didn't want to go to sleep. It may have been about 11 before I finally made myself do the proper thing, which was bad, because I had to be out of my house by 3am the next morning.

So my alarm goes off at 2am, leaving me an hour to get ready. Never think of me as someone who is not prepared for her own stupidity, though, because I turned the alarm off, ready for my second alarm at 2.30.

Going back to sleep properly eluded me, concerned as I was for not having enough time to get ready to leave, so I got out of bed at about 2.20. Instantly, I felt woozy and nauseated. It wasn't surprising to me, since I had felt sick the day before, and I really, really didn't want to go to work this Monday morning. I considered calling in sick, but thought maybe I was just being a wuss. I'm known to be a wuss when it comes to being sick. So I dragged my sorry butt out of my bedroom and pulled on my work shirt. Then I went into the bathroom, stared at my pale face in the mirror for five minutes, and decided that no, work wasn't a good idea for this Monday morning.

Here is where I should mention that my work is a little bit more complicated than just early starts in varied locations. It can be anywhere up to two hours to get to where I work most of the time, but I also go away regularly, to places that can be something like six hours away. This was one of those trips. Four days, Monday to Thursday, away with work. And to get there? A trip to a workmate's house to carpool to a bus.

So I knew, standing in front of the mirror feeling like throwing up, that if I managed to get to my workmate's house, if I managed to take the hour long car trip down to where the bus leaves from, I would most certainly throw up the second that bus started moving.

I looked at the time again. 2.40. The standing plan was to carpool at 3.30. When would be an ideal time to call them to let them know I wasn't coming? What time would she get up to leave, knowing she probably didn't need quite as much time to prepare as I did. I decided that 3.20 was probably a good time to call her, 4.30 a good time to call my boss to tell him I wouldn't make it on the trip. So what to do for all that time? Good thing I was in the middle of a book. I lay back in bed, phone propped in front of me so I wouldn't forget to watch the time, and I began to read.

So I called my carpool workmate, continued to read and then called my boss, then, when the sun was rising, I finally went to sleep, snoozing till the afternoon. I still felt like crap when I woke up again, so I guess I felt like I wasn't a wuss. Validated in my sickness, as it were.

And so I spent the lost days of work this week alternating between reading my book, playing games on my tablet or computer, and watching episodes of Smallville. All until ridiculous hours of the morning. It being the end of my lazy week now, and still almost 1am, I wonder if I'm going to be able to get back into a proper sleep schedule for work next week. But I guess I'll take it as it comes, haha.

First Things First

Okay, so first post.

If anyone is reading this, I can only imagine you stumbled across it by clicking the 'random blog' feature, or maybe you were searching the web for signs of my old internet handle. Maybe this came up on some random search engine because I have written just the precise keyword or phrase you were looking for.

Whatever the reason, I don't expect you to stay. For a few reasons. Though let me introduce myself first. I'll address the thing about the 'old' internet handle. Eyliena was my screen name for internet ... anything for a long time. It's pronounced ee-lee-en-a, if you're confused. I've heard many variations on how to pronounce it over the years. Lets give a history of eyliena before we move on.
First off, it was a lower case e. Weird? Yes. But I did pick it out because it looked aesthetically pleasing. Eyliena was born of a character I made once named Eylien. He was hardly significant to the story he was a part of, being the brother of one of my main characters, but I liked the look and the sound of the name, it being one of the only nice-sounding names I ever strung letters together to create (some of my other "gems" were Adakaday and Hayedl, so you know what I'm getting at.) Eylien was a boy, so I added an a to make it feminine and so was born my internet handle. A while beforehand, I wandered around the internet as Mikkifavo, who was actually the main character in my first story. Eyliena hung out on forums and ... um ... I think Eyliena never really did much of anything, but eventually, I evolved into Lhmac.

So that's me, Lhmac. Maybe Llama, if you know me from brony forums (*waves*). But Lhmac will be my forever internet name for writing.

So, my point. I know I had one somewhere. What first thing was supposed to be first? I suppose it is why I'm writing this. Especially since if you're reading this, I'm not sure how you got here. I'm not sharing this on Facebook or anything, I'm not cross-linking between my blogs - not for a while, at least. I just felt that Lhmac needs to be out there, on the internet, as more than just a writer of stories. Lhmac needs to be honest about who she is and what she stands for, and Lhmac needs more practice at writing.

So this is my little self-indulgence. I don't expect anybody to read this because until I've written more, I don't expect that I will have anything insightful to say, just little thoughts, musings, stuff I don't expect anyone to be overly interested in. This is an exploration of me, my life, the things I find important. And maybe, if I keep writing, I'll find the strength to show myself to the world, silly first intro post and all. Because if I have the ability to say these things on the internet to no one, I'll find the strength to say them to people in real life.

Or maybe I can just link them to this blog ;)