I'm sitting outside my camper behind the renfair. I'm feeling all weak like some kind of Victorian lady given to fainting, but it's noon on a Wednesday, the kiddo is at school, and nothing hurts even a little. It's just...nice. Odd not to have anything that I must do right this very second or else, but nice.
I think I'll make lunch.

Yeah, this is why I've been so crazy and absent lately:

( OCARINAS HOMG )
Dial up users beware. There are lots of pictures that I was too lazy to resize.

Hm. This seems to be going around.

Reply to this post by yelling "Words!" and I will give you five words that remind me of you. Then post them in your LJ and explain what they mean to you.

jaiden_s gave me these:

1) long hair
2) ren faires
3) wraeththu
4) music
5) midnight

( WORDS )

And these are from bookofnicodemus:

1) Bobsey Twins :D
2) Texassssss
3) Old people
4) Ocarinas! WHO SAW THAT COMING!
5) High Priestess, LULZ

( more WORDS )

Oh, the hell. Remember that whole choose your own nano month writing thing I was blathering on about a little while ago? With the word counts and personal goals, that thing? Yeah, it didn't work out. Surprise, surprise.

But hey, ocarinas. I carved lots and lots of pictures on ocarinas. That's good, right?

Heh. I'm watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer now. It's quite possible that there's something really pathetic about my life.

Dear Muses,
Alright, bitches,
O magnificent incarnations of inspiration,
get your pretty asses over here in my brain rightthefuckNAOW.
why have you forsaken me?
It's not like I don't get your whole attention whore thing.
I've worshiped at your altar for years now.
Remember all those cigarettes I lit and then forgot to smoke while writing? Those were for you.
Clouds of incense have I offered to your glory.
Eyestrain, writers cramp, non-anniversary buttsmex, what more do you want?
Please look down upon your devoted handmaid.
Plot. Like yesterday. KTHNXBAI
If it's not too much trouble, some inspiration would be really nice.
Or no more nicotine or vicarious emo crap dedicated to you. SRSLY
Love you,
Me

Why is it so much easier to write dialog for a bazillion gillion year old goddess than it is to write dialog for a 20 year old male? It makes no sense.


( word count )

Maybe because boys are weird.

Edit:
Dear LJ Spellcheck,
Stop screwing with my head. It's dialogue, darn it, not dialog. Don't give me that crap about British vs. American English.
Yeah,
Me

Yeah, harder than I thought it might be to keep up with the word count thing.

3108 / 50000 words. 6% done!

So, I've been wanting to participate in NaNoWrimo for years. I've never managed to do it, and not just because I suck at follow through. November is renfaire month. That time of year is all about working fifteen hours a day, being intensely social, and then falling into the bed exhausted every night--not exactly the best time to try to write a novel. So yeah, can't do it.

But I really, really want to try the whole structured, word count, goal thing. I think it'll be good for me. If you know me at all, you know I'm one of those people who never, ever, ever finishes a project. So, yeah, goals. Finishing stuff. I'm going to try to do that.

So here's the plan: my own personal nano project will be 1667 words a day on my days off for the next two months. That may or may not be 50000 words (much too lazy to go find a calendar right now), but it's about right. I post the word count here to keep me honest, and then promise only to whine about writing behind a cut. And that's it. A goal. Yay me.

1996 / 50000 words. 4% done!

HOkay, sudden obsession with a television show. Um, what the hell? This hasn't happened since I was about 16 and fell for Jordan Catalano. I mean, I was 16 then--that's the proper time to crush on tv characters; that's the time to get drawn into a show just to see what happens next. Not now. Now, I'm supposed to be this free spirit, not living on the road but still post-hippie flower child, distaining of modern pop culture elitist bitch, remember?

So, yeah, I'm having a really hard time figuring out what the fuck it is about Supernatural that has me all mushy and giddy. It can't just be the pretty; there's lots of pretty out there, right? I usually only get caught up in literary!pretty. And I'm almost as fond of Bobby and Pamela as I am of the boys or of Castiel. They're definitely not so pretty. What is with this?

After two days of obsessively trying to figure out why oh why Bobby saying "idjit" is so freaking familiar (tracked it down to a friend of my dad's I haven't seen since I was about 5 years old), I'm starting to think I like the show so much because it makes me nostalgic. Maybe it's that whole Mom's dead and now it's us against the world vibe, or maybe it's the eau de motor oil and the comforting static of a police scanner. Hell, maybe I just miss hanging out in the bar with my dad while classic rock blares in the background.

So, yeah, my daddy is a John Winchester clone. But, you know, without the whole killing ghost thing. And me? Apparently, I'm Mary Sue.

Dude, I am so LAME sometimes.

Work sucked this week like great big slobbery lips on a giant bendy straw. I'd explain, but some things are just not meant to be shared. Anyway, I've turned into a crazy hermit in self defense; so if you've been waiting for me to reply to an e-mail or rp post, that's why I haven't answered yet. Sorry, please be patient, love you guys, be back soon.
*smooch*

I'm on a bit of a Wraeththu kick this week, in case you haven't noticed.;) Now don't fall over from the shock of this, but I actually wrote three drabbles that I'm going to post here. Yes, here. In public. Uncharacteristic of me, no?

It all belongs to Storm Constantine, not to me, but I'm having fun playing!

( Terzian/Cobweb )
( Flick/Seel )
( Closets of Emily Child Groupies )

A Cobweb drawing. It's still in the sketchy stage, but I felt like sharing.




Click the picture to see a larger version.


*Sigh* One of these days I'm going to remember that my paper is slightly larger than my scanner.

...or at least finished writing this story. I feel like I've just run a triathlon. It still needs work; oh boy, does it need work, but at least the shape of it is there. This is the first time I've pushed through to the end of anything without letting myself get distracted with endless edits. I'm so proud of myself I could just sing.

It has a beginning: "Oh shut up, Mur," Orien said mildly. "I don't have time for your drama."

A middle: “Branch-charmed by earnest stars, indeed,” I gasped. That was the next line of the poem, somewhat mangled by my breath-scattered thoughts and shaking voice. “Are you trying to hypnotize me? Or just tell me that you want to go to the oak grove?”

And an end: As for the rest, well, Thiede did say I was a quick study.

An actual end! YAY.



Edit--Also, I have two Dreamwidth invite codes if anybody wants one. Just let me know.

Now, this is truly bizarre. This movie trailer is just...whoah.

All's Faire

The movie is called All's Faire in Love, starring Ann-Margaret and Christina Ricci, and it was filmed at the Michigan Renaissance Fair last year. (*sigh* The first time I miss a fair in ten years, and Hollywood decides to come to town! It just figures.) A bunch of my friends are extras in this thing, and there's a shot of Larry playing the ocarina that might even make the final cut.

The trailer is one of the wildest things I've ever seen in my life. I've done cartwheels on that joust field, leaned on those trees, caught frogs in that rock lined pond, jumped on those trampolines, and danced on that stage where they spank the guy. Seeing Wednesday Addams running around in all those places is just...unreal. I'm pretty sure my camper once sat in the exact spot that the witches do their dance around the fire. And did you see them run down that pier to jump the lake? I've done things on that pier that are probably best not mentioned in public. *hee* Of course, so has just about every other rennie I know; the lake has always been a popular *ahem* trysting spot. I'm rather surprised Ms. Ricci didn't slip on something!

God, this is so surreal.

Yes, I'm being extremely neurotic yet again. I finally worked up the courage to friend ellen_kushner, but then I chickened out on writing the obligatory comment to tell her that I did so. Hero worship gives me bad manners. *sigh* I worry too much over nothing.

It's like the time I had to write a paper on fairy tales back in college. I found this message board online, and posted a question about which books I ought to read for research. Two people called "Terri" and "Midori" recommended some excellent books and asked me what my paper was about. I answered, and something I said sparked a discussion between the two of them. I spent a delightful couple of weeks messaging back and forth, contributing to the discussion whenever I felt able, thinking about it whenever I was away from the computer, and generally feeling the first academic excitement I'd ever experienced in my life.

Then somebody mentioned Midori's new book.

I'd never heard of Midori Snyder, so even though I was impressed, it didn't turn me into a gibbering fangirl idiot. But then somebody mentioned Terri's last name. I realized I'd been chatting easily for weeks with Terri Windling. Yes, THAT Terri Windling, the artist and editor whose name adorned the inside cover of almost every one of my favorite books. I used to look at her cover art for hours at a time. And Bordertown; I'd just discovered Bordertown a couple of months before. Terri Windling!

I know, I know, authors and artists are just people. So what? They're people with better brains, and I can't talk to them without second guessing my every word. So silly. I finished my paper, thanked them both politely, and never posted anything on that messageboard again.

Ah, hero worship. At least I got an A on that paper. And hey, now I get to read Ellen Kushner's lj entries on my friends page. Convenient, that.

In other news, I just drank a huge gulp of ant-flavored Dr. Pepper. It didn't taste too awful--unpleasantly tangy, but not horrible enough to be worth getting up to open another can. The little nuisances would probably crawl into that one, too.

Oops! I accidentally crossposted this from my Dreamwidth account. I'm not used to things over there yet. *sigh* I may as well leave this post on lj since it's already up here. It saves explaining what I'm doing over at dreamwidth, and I'm much too lazy to delete and apologize at this hour. I'm also fairjennet over there, btw, if anybody wants to add me.

DW post:

I guess I ought to begin with some kind of introduction. If I plan to make long, rambling posts about writing--an exercise almost designed to annoy any casual reader--common politeness demands that I at least make some sort of attempt to explain why I'm doing it in public.

( why, and how, and a silly story )

I'm clearly getting younger. This is the second gray hair I've yanked out of my head this week, only to find that it was growing back in dark brown near the root. Score!