The ever-helpful Mr Cute, taking it upon himself to hold me down and give me a bath.
Getting comments–especially positive, ‘I want more!’ kinds of comments–make me all giddy and flaily. Dennis of Michigan, you totally made my weekend with the comment you left, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.
In other news, I’m still alive! I’ve just been head-down in approximately 40K words of pretty much pure sex, none of which may actually make it into a story. On the one hand, it’s original fiction and I’m writing again! On the other… I’d really love to finish something rather than write bits and bobs of related stories.
…And in writing up my “so how’s the market for [description of what I’ve been writing]” question, I just realized precisely how odd this universe is. I really need to sit down and figure out how the world works before I try cleaning it up (formatting/editorially speaking, heh) and submitting it anywhere.
One of the side effects of my medication is—honest to promise—“vivid dreams”.
The manufacturer/FDA/whoever isn’t kidding, either. Fortunately for me, I don’t normally have nightmares - my dreams are straight-up bizarre, but not bad.
As a result of falling medication prices, at my last meds check, I asked my doctor if I could switch from the tablet form to the extended release version. Doc said ‘okay’, made the swap, and (after convincing the software that *yes*, there *are* 2 scrips for the same medication in 2 differing strengths) sent it off.
I’ve taken the new pills for two nights, now, and both nights I’ve had seriously *weird* dreams. Last night/this morning, I dreamed that I was best friends with Lydia …Martin? Lydia from Teen Wolf, anyway, and we went to a rather collegiate-feeling high school. Instead of lacrosse, hockey was the big sport; there was some injustice that resulted in me angrily deciding to dye my hair pink; and for some reason, my wardrobe included a pair of jeans with half-peeled bananas printed on them and bright orange shoes.
The night before last, I dreamed that I took Mr Cute to a mall, which naturally led to him freaking out, running off, getting lost… And then turning into a hummingbird when I found him again.
This Is A Formal Post.
It’s wearing a ballgown made to resemble a tuxedo. Because it can.
Clearly, I have been spending entirely too much time on Tumblr–That’s beside the point. Point is this: I’m here to make an announcement regarding my upcoming travel schedule:
I’m not going to be going to GRL this year. However! The reasons for my absence this year are all based very much on relatively rational things like ‘interest levels’ and ‘the presence of east-coast friends’ and ‘money’, and not on totally irrational fear, so there’s that.
Basically, I decided against going because I don’t really have the money (*sadface*), my friends weren’t going to be able to go due to a combination of time/work/edits, I myself don’t have anything new out which makes me feel kind of blah (and disappointed in myself, seriously), so. Fear didn’t have anything to do with it!
Instead, I’m gonna see if I can find a concert or a con or something in my neighborhood(s) and see about visiting my dad & his family for a while longer than I did last year. (And if there IS a con somewhere nearby, I have a cosplay idea that I really really want to try.)
The work of archivists is fasten-ating. Alan Walker, archivist at the National Archives, shared some of his favorite fastener moments (thorns!) with us on the Prologue blog.
You know, if the Doctor came by and asked me when and where I wanted to go, I’d ask him to take me back in time to decree that no US government agency anywhere would staple anything to carbons. Because, in 20/30/40 years, someone (read: me) is going to have to go through those files and make copies, and getting staples out of carbons without tearing the carbon is a pain and a half.
Those paper clips are seriously cool, though — I had no idea there were so many different varieties!
Things my cat does that I wish I could do:
- fall sound asleep pretty much anywhere
- hide under the bed
- get treated sympathetically for hissing at and scratching annoying people
I wrote this story. You’d think I would remember A) how the names of the siblings of one of the protagonists were capitalized and B) whether they were shortened or not.
(Edited to add: oh! And I’d forgotten that his sister has a (for lack of a better term for reasons that don’t need exploring at this juncture) husband who has a name and everything.) (Good thing I decided to check.)
To make a long story short, I had this Idea on Easter morning: 40 40-word ficlets about Dean Winchester, based on/around the Lenten themes of preparation and penance, culminating in the resurrection/redemption of Easter…
That’s what I wrote in my notebook, anyway. I don’t know how closely I’ll hew to the whole Lent prep/penance and redemption parts, though — I really like the idea of redemption, and I really want to explore all the different ways one can be redeemed/can find redemption, so.
I’m open to prompts/suggestions, too, since I have two done so far… And I only like the first one.
It probably says something about me that my favorite songs from Les Mis are At The End Of The Day, Lovely Ladies, Master Of The House, and Do You Hear The People Sing?.
…also, I’m really glad I don’t have to justify my likes. [/random]
I never understood the fascination with cherry blossoms (or blossoming trees in general) when I was growing up. That’s what happens when you grow up in a place where bikinis appearing in stores at the end of February are just ridiculous, because there’s still at least six more weeks before the snow even starts to melt…
Then I moved to Seattle, and I finally got it. The sun is warm on your face, and there’s a cool breeze on your face, and there’s this incredible froth of blossoms against the bright spring-blue sky and there’s just nothing like it.
Part of it is that it’s a sign that it is in fact spring and YAY! green growing things! Part of it is something else, something that’s closer to art and poetry and that ephemeral something that’s often hard to articulate.
…just one more reason I miss living in Seattle. *Sigh*