When he slept the light went out of his eyes, and instead they mirrored the stars.

*randomly hits 'paste' to see what's in cache*
When he slept the light went out of his eyes, and instead they mirrored the stars.
No, I'm not writing fanfic. No! Not at all.
OK.
Well.
A little.
I am somewhat adhering to my three-hours-orig, one-hour-fanfic rule. Oh wait, I'd said four. Well... er, um, ah... Yes.
At least I'm getting things done on both fics.
There will be Eomer/Lothiriel. But that one is, well, proving ambitious. (One of those things, where you come to a scene and realize that before you write it you have to know if they've done it before, which means... Yep! You have to write the prequel, at least in notes, and then you realize, as you're outlining, that the prequel is far more interesting than what you were writing previously.... thus is the Fanfic Epic kept alive.)

So, meanwhile, it looks like there's going to be some fic from the Early Days of Gondolin, which of course necessitates that I do (horrors) Research, naturally, into First Age Noldor/Sindar relations, and just... well, it's not my area of specialty, so, progress may be slow. I did a bunch of it already and have forgotten half, but for the meantime, rest assured, there's pretty Elfsex of several varieties brewing in my sick little head.

I have been trying to respond to comments from previous posts-- the one about the fanfic possibilities had an anonymous comment on it, here, and while I have a policy (because of a really obnoxious persistent commenter who refused to acknowledge that he/she was the same person each time, necessitating my lookup of the IP address every time) of not responding to unsigned anonymous comments, I read that one because I was pretty sure it was someone I'd been emailing with. So I've responded to it, but am now not sure it's the same person. I would appreciate some sort of signature-- that's why I have the policy, I just feel like such an idiot if I don't know if I've talked to you before. So, please, sign anonymous comments-- and it doesn't have to be with your real name! Just something consistent so I know it's the same person, so I don't repeat myself, and also so I don't get hostile at perceived over-familiarity. Really. Please. Just believe me, and put on an initial or something. Hell, sign it with your IP address if you must (I have it logged anyway, I just don't want to have to go find the previous comment and compare them).

Not like I have any control, or really want any control (I could have control if I wanted, see, but then Serendipity couldn't read or comment) over who reads this blog and who reads my fanfic, but it's not control I want so much as some sort of understanding. I do browse my server logs sometimes just to see what sort of traffic my own site is getting, but LJ doesn't give me that, so I am rather astonishingly in the dark about who's paying attention. Somewhat by design, as I don't think I ought to know-- I have to believe that I wouldn't change if I knew, but we all know that's not true-- but somewhat because I just really don't have any way of knowing. But that's an entirely different kettle of fish. (Coworker Brian, did you ever find my blog as you were planning to? Or are you going to not tell me you've found it in hopes that I'll reveal my secret love for you here, never knowing you're reading? By the way Brian, Alison tells all kinds of secrets about you when we're all bored on Sundays. But you probably read her blog too so you knew that.)

Meanwhile, Barbarians Novel is refusing to quite be finished. I am gapfilling now, trying to put together one entire draft out of all the scraps I've written and finding all the many (many! many more than I remembered, of course) places where I said, "Taking too long, will skip to next important scene" and now I must say "too much is left unsaid and I have to connect these." Which, of course, guarantees that I've got all the difficult-to-write, tedious, long, or problematic scenes left: i.e., timewasters. And of course I agreed to work an extra day this week.
Bollocks.

I lay in bed this morning reading some fansite's interviews with Johnny Depp and thinking how I would answer interviewers' banal questions when I am a Famous Novelist. I considered, while putting jam on my whole-grain toast, what I would do if a published novel brought me riches. I rather think I wouldn't do anything except pay off my debts and quit my job so I could write a whole bunch more, but then, I think I'd like the chance to find out. Don't you think?

I went shopping last night, in honor of Tax-Free Week, and bought myself $90 of clothing. I now own Levis, for the first time in my life. (Originally $44, marked down to $34, bought at $24 with no tax. Cheaper than Old Navy. Stretch bootcut 515s, and I think I look foxy.) I also ascertained that I am a Size 12 in several brands, which astonished me as the scale had been informing me I've gained back most of the weight I lost last year. Um... muscle? Bullshit. Sizes are bullshit, is what this has taught me. I also bought a silk skirt, and a wildly impractical low-cut beaded top that is utterly not my style and yet, foxy.

I utterly failed to find sexy black shoes, however. I want black shoes to wear with my silk skirt and nylon backseam stockings, and have been unable to locate anything of the sort. This is probably too long an entry and needs to be cut but I can't find a place to put the cut and don't want to just cut the whole thing, as some of it is addressed to people who wouldn't click cuts, and thus it'd all be futile. Futility! Oh futility.

Now. Back to writing. *cracks whip* Origfic first.

Na ha ha hahaha!

Was sitting in kitchen when mailman began to attempt to wedge something through mail slot. Always feel a little funny about that sort of thing, as I grew up in a world foreign to mail slots. (On Rural Postal Routes, the mailman doesn't get out of the car, much less come over and open your kitchen door and fling shit through it.)
So I sat, several feet away, and waited patiently while he wedged the package into the slot. Finally he was satisfied and left. I waited until I was sure he was gone, as I find it so awkward to open my kitchen door to a man in the midst of molesting it, and went over to see what it was.
Ha ha! My Burpee seed order has arrived.

So I've just spent an hour in the basement planting violas and strawberries in those little black plastic seed tray things I never threw out from last year. I am such a green-thumb whiz kid. I wound up with more than would fit easily in the space I'd allotted them on the Starting Table, and so I brought some up and have them in the kitchen windowsill. We'll see which is a more favorable environment.

Someone-who-I-won't-specify-for-legal-reasons helpfully mailed me some pot seeds from her dorm, but forgot that the stamp-canceller is rather hard on envelopes, and so I got a tiny little wax-paper envelope of powder wrapped in an exceedingly cheerful and somewhat illegible letter. I think I'll stick to legal plants for now: that must be an omen. The letter remains on my desk and frequently cheers me up. Not that i need cheering. But, for future reference: mail seeds in something padded.

Strawberry and viola seeds both are so God-damned tiny it's nearly impossible to plant them singly. Now I have to wait 12-21 days to find out whether I screwed up at all. Around that time I ought to be starting my peppers and foxgloves. Am so excited. Wheee!!

I need a) a bigger, warmer basement, and b) a bigger yard. If all goes poorly I shall be upset, but if all goes well I'll have about thirty strawberry plants, and I don't know where on earth I'll put them.

In other news I am attempting to psych myself up to go jogging again. I need strength for this task.

happy st bridget's day

It is my name-day.
When Z was a child his family celebrated name-days. His, they celebrated on the nameday for his middle name, because both his first name's day and his birthday were very close to Christmas and would get overshadowed. His middle name was after his grandfather, so it was a day that had been significant to the family before. (His grandfather died before he was born, I believe.)
So he said if he had known it was my name-day, he'd've bought me something. I made a nice casserole for dinner and brownies for dessert, to celebrate, although i'd already planned both. I like the idea of celebrating name-days. Apparently it's a Latvian thing, although I imagine they are not alone in the tradition.

Thinking: two of my sisters are not named saints' names, not for their first names. Although those two sisters have as their middle names the first names of my two grandmothers. Interestingly enough. (Both of which are saints' names.)

I was having so much fun talking to Z this evening (and eating with him, oh the eating, I am going to have to do a lot more jogging if I am to eat like this) that I didn't get much more writing done. But I have filled one big gap. So that's something. Barbarians, barbarianate!
Am still pondering the comments left on the opening scene. If you commented, do not feel that I am ignoring you. I am simply still pondering it. The whole issue. Nnngh! That sound is my brain working much harder than it knows how to.

On a good note, today I have earned at least an hour of fanfic tomorrow. Yays!!
This week feels long. That is good. That is very good. I have a great deal I have to get done tomorrow. Friday, which is the day after tomorrow and not tomorrow as I had thought it was, which is good, I will have a lot to do because that is my last day off before we depart for Georgia, and basically I have to pack that day. Z doesn't really do packing. I mean, he does, but his solution to packing is just to not bring much, which is not my solution.
I should also check tire pressure and wash the interior windows and the like, on the car I mean, and the such, and check the fluids, and do the Manly sort of thing that... well, Z never used to do, but then he discovered that we owned screwdrivers and wrenches and things, and that he could use them to take things apart, and he's kind of lately become Manly. Like, since our last major car trip. But I don't think I'll leave the Manly Automotive Things up to him, somehow.

On quite another note: Hello, helloder! Welcome to LJ. You'll figure it out, I'm sure. ^.^