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dragonlady7Last day in Club.
Had nothing to do.
Man, was it boring.
I scribbled down world-building notes on the Kyweir/Callonia novel (Abandoned Novel, the fantasy novel with the barbarians and berserkers). It was fun.
I also wrote more fluff. Nothing good came of it, though.
Oh, except this, which isn't exactly 'good' but I kind of liked it.
(It's somewhat related to the first writing exercise I posted in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
y_tu_teithad in content, though not in limitations and not really in characters.)
300 words, Idril speaking of Tuor, early in marriage. PG.
He sleeps, as I have never seen an adult sleep. He sleeps as though he were very weary, his eyes fully closed and his mouth pressed shut and his breathing heavy and rhythmic. At first he is warm and flushed, and turns over frequently, sighing or grunting or groaning or snoring. But by middle night he quietens. His face goes pale, his body cools, and he lies very still, his breathing slow and faint. At times like that I sometimes fear that he has inexplicably died: I cannot feel any life in him, and I lean and put my hand beside his mouth to feel his breath. Once this woke him, and he was confused, and knew not who I was at first, nor where he was. I had to speak to him, saying his name, before he recognized me and understood where he was.
In the mornings he is slow to wake. It is his breathing that tells me he is awake, deep breaths and yawns, and he must move his hands and feet, and then his limbs, before he is ready to sit up. It is as though his body was dead while his mind rested, and he must revive himself. Sometimes he is not so eager to sit up, but rolls over and puts his arms around me, and at times like that I am pleased to discover that all of his body parts have returned to life, some of them with considerable enthusiasm.
I have nothing to compare that to. I know not how the men of my own folk behave in this respect. But I know I have little of which to complain. I no longer have need to take much exercise in the midmorning-- not when the exercise I take first thing in the morning is so vigorous.
Oh, I also found out that technically I'm not supposed to be paid overtime, which means my 8 hours of OT last week and my ... probably 16 hours of it this week will be paid at my straight, sub-minimum-wage rate.
Fuckers.
Oh shit. It's my parents' wedding anniversary today and I forgot.
Katy bought them a digital camera for their anniversary.
I think it's their 28th. (*thinks* No way. Wait. Yeah, 28th. Holy shit, I'm old.)
Had nothing to do.
Man, was it boring.
I scribbled down world-building notes on the Kyweir/Callonia novel (Abandoned Novel, the fantasy novel with the barbarians and berserkers). It was fun.
I also wrote more fluff. Nothing good came of it, though.
Oh, except this, which isn't exactly 'good' but I kind of liked it.
(It's somewhat related to the first writing exercise I posted in
y_tu_teithad in content, though not in limitations and not really in characters.) 300 words, Idril speaking of Tuor, early in marriage. PG.
He sleeps, as I have never seen an adult sleep. He sleeps as though he were very weary, his eyes fully closed and his mouth pressed shut and his breathing heavy and rhythmic. At first he is warm and flushed, and turns over frequently, sighing or grunting or groaning or snoring. But by middle night he quietens. His face goes pale, his body cools, and he lies very still, his breathing slow and faint. At times like that I sometimes fear that he has inexplicably died: I cannot feel any life in him, and I lean and put my hand beside his mouth to feel his breath. Once this woke him, and he was confused, and knew not who I was at first, nor where he was. I had to speak to him, saying his name, before he recognized me and understood where he was.
In the mornings he is slow to wake. It is his breathing that tells me he is awake, deep breaths and yawns, and he must move his hands and feet, and then his limbs, before he is ready to sit up. It is as though his body was dead while his mind rested, and he must revive himself. Sometimes he is not so eager to sit up, but rolls over and puts his arms around me, and at times like that I am pleased to discover that all of his body parts have returned to life, some of them with considerable enthusiasm.
I have nothing to compare that to. I know not how the men of my own folk behave in this respect. But I know I have little of which to complain. I no longer have need to take much exercise in the midmorning-- not when the exercise I take first thing in the morning is so vigorous.
Oh, I also found out that technically I'm not supposed to be paid overtime, which means my 8 hours of OT last week and my ... probably 16 hours of it this week will be paid at my straight, sub-minimum-wage rate.
Fuckers.
Oh shit. It's my parents' wedding anniversary today and I forgot.
Katy bought them a digital camera for their anniversary.
I think it's their 28th. (*thinks* No way. Wait. Yeah, 28th. Holy shit, I'm old.)
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no OT?
Date: 2005-03-04 01:59 pm (UTC)Re: no OT?
Date: 2005-03-04 02:16 pm (UTC)I'll have made more two weeks ago working 35 hours and making some tips than I will make this past week, working 52 hours and making no fucking tips at all and not having A LIFE.
Re: no OT?
Date: 2005-03-04 02:39 pm (UTC)- Z