Horoscope

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): According to recent polls, people no longer think that most of the old Seven Deadly Sins are even sins, let alone deadly. Greed is the only one of the originals that the majority still regards as worth condemning, while anger, pride, gluttony, sloth, envy, and lust have been demoted to minor lapses. What’s your position on the matter, Taurus? It’s a perfect time to update your moral values and redefine what it means to be on your best and worst behavior. Why? Because violating your highest standards would be especially costly in the coming weeks, while vigorously upholding your ideals would bring unprecedented rewards.

I’m re-downloading Open Office from Romania. Sweet.

After a day of pause and focus – instead of silence, it seems – I find myself ready and willing to tackle the basic mundanity of living and operating.

tagged me. I guess I’m game.

Things you enjoy, even when no one around you wants to go out and play. What lowers your stress/blood pressure/anxiety level? Make a list, post it to your journal… and then tag 5 friends and ask them to post it to theirs.

1. Reading. A good book, a novel especially, serves to de-fuss me well.

2. Candle-making. Something about making candles out of old wax gives me a calm satisfaction. Part of it is using up waste wax, another is the process of melting, re-forming, burning, melting, etc. Constant change from solid to liquid and back.

3. Accomplishment. I really like crossing things off of lists, but only if they are well and truly finished.

4. Writing. Getting a story from my head to paper is an amazing release. Putting these nearly-real voices and images and people into their worlds in ways that others can know them… just so perfect.

5. Orgasms. ‘Nuff said.

Tagged: , , , , and , consider yourselves tagged. :) Since added a bonus tag, I’m gona do the same. , if you get the time, you’re tagged!

[Essay] The Writing Process

This assignment was to describe how you get ready to write.

While there aren’t any hard and fast conditions that I need to write, there are some situations in which inspiration is far more likely to slap me in the head. My favorite setting is a greasy spoon restaurant, preferably 24-hours. Either a journal or my dinosaur laptop is in front of me, sitting next to a cup of bad, highly-creamed and highly-sugared coffee. I prefer the smoking section, despite not being a smoker. The atmosphere just seems to have more grit, more grime, and more reality. I can look up and always see a regular, usually trading snide remarks with a waitress. They let me sit, headphones on, and always keep my coffee full. Little grease or coffee stains on the journals add character for posterity.

When a story starts to move my pen – never a pencil – I lose any track of time. Hours, minutes, it doesn’t matter. I’m lost in the act, lost in the pictures and scenes in my head. The smell of fries blends with the dusky scent of a castle or keep. The cream twisting in the hot coffee becomes fog or strange-colored smoke twisting around and through a ghastly and skeletal apparition.

The images in my mind flow and stutter so quickly that if I type a story from the beginning, it jerks and twitches instead of flowing. I was so frustrated by this when I started my novel, until I picked up a lab book, barely touched. Forcing myself to hand-write slowed me down and made me consider detail and progression as I put the story on paper. It began to flow, make more sense, and I was able to get more down the slow way. Irony and irony and irony.

There is another situation in which inspiration will regularly visit. The great sternum-vibrating bass of a dance or electronica club, the smoke and dancing and black-lite and people-watching seem to just pull a story out of me. There’s something about watching the near-ecstatic bodies on the dance floor and the preening of the socialites and the mechanics of the mob at the bar that either unlock or just give me idea after idea.

In either of these settings, I’m usually able to relax and forget that people may be looking at me. It’s like a giant sigh and sitting in your favorite chair. It’s like finally letting the day go as you surrender to sleep. It’s like stepping over your home’s threshhold.

More and more.

My first CATA semester bus pass expired today. Its little sleeve thingy has been a real trooper. It’s made of a thick rubbery plastic, whereas the clear bit in the front is already shredding. The pass itself looks as well-loved as it is, and I think I’m going to keep it. The whole thing will survive as a bookmark for now, and possibly be framed in the future.

This article (WARNING – PROFANITY), which delineates 20 things gamers want from the next generation of gaming consoles, gets me all riled up to write a storyline for a video game. What happened to our TF proposal, ? Anybody out there with the programming knowledge (and/or friends with such) that would code and put together a video game? I’m certain that I could come up with some killer stories. Thanks to for the link.

raises a good point about Buddy’s crate. Also, has alerted me that another hat exists. I still think I want to patch the one I’ve got, but they should both know (along with ) that they helped to cheer me.

The last of the barbecue chicken from the visit to the TWP is now being microwaved. is a rockin’ griller. We brought Buddy with us, and he behaved well (if hyperactive) the whole time he was there. He -really- wanted to be able to run all around that huge back yard.

My back seems to be adjusting to my loss of weight. I find myself feeling taller, and says that I am standing up straight more consistantly. I don’t doubt it, because my back feels like -something’s- going on with it. It’s popping often (feels good) and aches when I sit or stand too hunched over. Pleasant communication from my body.

I think that I should finish the chicken, wash some dishes, and then head out to either Theio’s or Gone Wired to do some studying.

Horoscope

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): The only work that will have lasting value in the coming week is work that you do in the spirit of fun. If you approach any task with nothing more than a desire to get it over with, it will ultimately be useless. If you perform a good deed merely out of a sense of duty, it won’t bestow any of its intended benefits. These directions apply to the effort you put into your relationship, hobby, or art as well as  to your actions on the job. Success depends on you playing hard with your spontaneity fully engaged.

This hits my writer’s block with my new Adam idea dead-on. *shakes fist at Rob Brezny* Heh.

Riding the roller coaster.

Yesterday, I hit a fairly monumental low. Buddy was repeatedly angry that we kept leaving the house, and so he was destroying things. The bagel baggie was fine. I’ll clean that up. We expected him to kill the Ozzie doll. (BTW, while it lived, he loved that toy. Thanks .) I did not expect him to kill the old man hat.

Most of my friends are familiar with the old man hat. I wore it to whatever the hell they called the DEMF last year. It was my late Grandpa Bean’s hat. As far as I know, it’s the only physical thing that I have left of Grandpa’s.

And buddy tore a chunk out of the top.

So, yeah. I got upset. I’m still getting over it. I’m determined to find a patch and repair it. Personality, I hope, rather than idiocy. I can’t bear to throw the hat out.

In rebounding from the depression, as per usual, I find myself wanting to make better use of my time. This is also fueled by ‘s job dropping out from under her. As Grandpa Bean always used to say (and had a bumper sticker or two), Shit Happens.

The walk between classes was amazing. I find myself enjoying sunshine, walks outside, and packing my lunch. I’m not quite certain who I am anymore, apparently. Heh. Sloughing off, indeed.

I should remember to post about our little jaunt to the TWP on Sunday. Don’t let me forget. :)