Somehow I had no Ravenstag icons before this

So! More Matter of Taste podcast! I was on the new/improved/rerecorded Red Dragon episode (you can hear The Blogger as a Sad Cat Ghost in the outtakes after the music, though), thus completing the trilogy, and then last week, the guys puzzled over Hannibal Rising. Considering that I'm going on both Anglo-Filles and Made of Fail next month to talk about the show some more, I don't know how much harder you want me to fandom, people.

Oh, speaking of which, GUESS WHAT HAS STARTED FILMING.

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As a side note, I have been doing music posts on Tumblr, often with nostalgic commentary, here. (Pallas cats are, as always, here.) On a less cheerful note, I am having some health problems that I think I'll get into in a separate entry. So, in closing, here is a nice thing: *boop.*

Update

So! In addition to a post about flowery Season 2 shenanigans, I mentioned some health problems. (SPOILER: I am not dying.) It started with headaches--constant migraines when we had thunderstorms for about a month straight; I was pretty confident that air pressure was the cause, in no small part because they would ease up if/when it actually started raining. Even if it was sunny and the forecast was clear--if I had a headache, you best take an umbrella with you. So I spent about a month being a human barometer, and after a couple of weeks of agony, I figured out that if I just took two Aleve in the morning whether I needed it or not, that would either stave off the day's headache or at least ease it up a little.

Then we had two or three weeks of sunshine and... I started getting different headaches. They just really felt different, and didn't respond to Aleve, Advil, Tylenol, what-have-you--when I finally tried cold/allergy medicine (Coricidin), that made something of a dent in them, so I thought, okay: sinus pressure headaches. Summer's changing into fall, it's probably my allergies (unless it's the dead of winter, it's always my allergies). But nothing was really helping. And I was kind of starting to lose my mind, or my shit, or something, because I couldn't even hear myself think over the dull constant roar with a nice little spike behind my eye, like a cherry in the cocktail. Literally, in the literal sense of literally, "could not hear myself think." Like my brain was just full of static and there were some words in there, when I was trying to write, but I couldn't "hear" them long enough to string anything together. And all y'all started telling me on Twitter to go to a doctor. Well, yes. I had a scheduled quarterly med check this week, so I said, I'll go run all this past my psychiatrist ("BUT THAT'S NOT A MEDICAL DOCTOR!" Well, she is--just not an internist) and see if she thinks I ought to see someone else about it. (What y'all did not know is that she is constantly telling me to go get checkups with other doctors, so I was pretty confident she was not going to pull a Dr. Sutcliffe on me, as it were.) In other words, I trust her to be knowledgeable enough and trustworthy enough to be like, "Not my division, go see someone else, now."

Then I had a massive panic attack Sunday night.

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