Thursday, December 30, 2004

Out On The Moonlit Floor...

Mood: Dreamy

Mmm..

Dance like you're home alone, dance like no one's watching.

Have you ever heard a song or saw a scene that made you just close your eyes and wish? Or close your eyes and let yourself be transported somewhere in your dreams?

The song "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None The Richer does that to me. It makes me want to close my eyes and twirl and imagine myself in a moonlit courtyard dancing and spinning alone with someone, just the two of us. He's a shadow, not someone I know, but then it doesn't really matter who it is, does it? Because that guy doesn't truly exist. Maybe once upon a time, but not anymore.

Still, that doesn't keep us from dreaming.

In case you don't know the song I'm talking about, let me just paste the lyrics. It is the lyrics I listen to, not just the girl's wistful voice.

Kiss me, out of the bearded barley

Lightly, beside the green, green grass
Swing, swing, swing the spinning step
You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight
Lead me out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies
Dance silver moon’s sparkling, so kiss me

Kiss me down by the broken tree house
Swing me upon its hanging tire
Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat
We’ll take the trail marked on your father’s map

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight
Lead me out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies
Dance silver moon’s sparkling, so kiss me

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight
Lead me out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies
Dance silver moon’s sparkling...
So kiss me...
Don't stare at me like that. I do have estrogen running through my body. I am allowed to like an ultra feminine song every once in a while. And every once in a while, I'm allowed to put on my prettiest top and my peasant skirt, dim the lights, crank up the volume and just close my eyes and pretend. Pretend and dream.That is what this world is made of, truly. Dreams. Without dreams, there'd be no hope. And without hope, there'd be no joy. And that's when the world would really come to an end.

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

It's... Over...

Christmas is over. Excuse me while I bawl my eyes out.

Okay, I'm done. After all, there's only 361 days til next Christmas!

Lately, I've been taking full advantage of my holidays to relax. And do absolute, glorious, nothing! This is why there have been no updates: there's been nothiing to update about. Christmas was nice, life has been good. My blessed iRiver, the only thing I really truly wanted for Christmas, has not come in yet thanks to the closure of all government offices including mail until tomorrow. I live in hope! Eternal hope!

Yesterday was quite interesting. I woke up at 1 15, due to my 5 am bedtime the night (morning?) before, to the dinging of my AIM. I rolled over and looked at it to find that Ryan had been IMing me for the past couple of hours. He informed me that I was going shopping, and I as going shopping with him at 3 30. Who was I to refuse? Especially since he was willing to tag along with me to both Chapters and Winners. How many straight guys do you know that would go with you to Winners? Not many, I'll bet you.

We never actually made it to Winners, but we went to Chapters for a long time, Superstore (to pick up the Nintendo DS that was the purpose for his shopping), Zellers (where several of his friends--and the cica he's afraid of, Sheila--work), and HMV. And we had a great time. I forgave him for his mother (who we met at Chapters and drove us to his house later where I got picked up) and he forgave me for dragging him through Chapters for at least an hour. I also bought him a CD, but I did that because there was a 2/30 deal and I figured that if the CD would make him happy, he deserved it. And it did, so I have no regrets on spending my xmas money on him. Besides, I got the Nightmare Before Christmas special edition DVD. The best movie ever, incidentally.

And now, for the Overlarge Pillow of Ecstacy. Something Ryan got for Christmas and I immediately fell in love with. It's an overlarge pillow. It reminds me of one of Leroy's dog beds. except a little bigger. And softer. Much softer. One side is entirely covered with black furry stuff. And it's soft. Ultra soft. And so big that you can literally curl into it. It's Heaven. In a pillow.

Okay, time to be absolutely unproductive once more and paint my nails.

MistWeaver

Thursday, December 23, 2004

A PICTURE!!!



You saw it, folks. A PICTURE!!! I have finally found a photo hosting site. And since I am now clean and bored, I shall experiment a little with it.




Yay!! Thumbnail!!

MistWeaver

Aha!!

Well, I did nothing today, so I don't really have anything to post. Okay, that's a lie. I did do something. I wrapped gifts all day and played Majesty, a game I'm addicted to on the computer.

The reason I'm bothering to post is that I remembered what made me laugh so hard in National Treasure.

See, there's the main charcter chick, the main character guy, and the foil/secondary main character/comic relief, who's always trying to get in a piece of history info that the two others didn't know.

So they're wandering around this huge sophisticated underground catacombs type thing that this group of secret masons built. The girl looks around and says in a hushed voice:

"Whoa, how did they build all this?"

The secondary hero dude looks and her and smiles triumphantly.

"The same way they built the pyramids and the other wonders," he replies.

She looks at him questioningly. His smile widens.

"The aliens helped them, of course!"

~

Hee hee, I guess you had to have been there. Hell, you probably had to have an Aya-esque misty sense of humor, too.


^.^

MistWeaver

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

Happiness is a warm kitty.

Who loves Ferrero Rochers? I DO!! Yell if you love em too! Yeah, you know it. Can't pronounce it, but can sure as hell eat it. We stopped at the drugstore, Micheline Ryan Kai and I, on the way back from the movie. I picked up chocolate. And Brian's Xmas gift. And gummy bears. And all I had on me was loonies and I wasn't sure if I had enough. Sure enough, I didn't. But Ryan paid for what I was missing, which was really sweet, especially since I'm not sure I would have had enough on my bank card left to cover it (xmas shopping kinda destroyed my savings).

Anyways.

I'm just back from my second movie night in a row. Amazing, I know. With Ryan, even.

You see, yesterday when we went to the theatre, we went to see Meet the Fockers. Unfortunately, when we got to the ticket booth, it turned out that it didn't open until the next day... aka today. So we went and saw National Treasure instead. And it was funny. And interesting. And I all around liked it. There was one line that really cracked me up, but I can't remember it. Which is why it is not in the title. Damn that messed up memory of mine. Oh, well.

So innyhoo. Later that night, after the movie, when we were waiting for my father to pick us up, he called his mother to let her know that he was still alive and she said that she'd take him to MtF the next night (tonight). He told me in case somebody wanted to accidentally show up. Actually, knowing Micheline, she probably invited me, but that's how he put it. And that's also how I ended up at the movies again tonight.

That's only the beginning of this tale, however. Buckle up, this is a long one.

First of all, my Headphone Earmuffs. That Ryan made. I kid you not. He freaking made them. IS THAT AWESOME OR WHAT? The name says it all. They're earmuffs. That are headphones. And WARM. Very warm. And they work well, too. Better than my old headphones. He sells them for 15 bucks apiece, folks! Buy a pair! They're really worth it!

I got mine for cheaper, because he made me a deal that I buy his movie ticket and he gives me the earphones free. Great deal, I think. Movies are only 10$. Kai bought a pair too, but he paid full price. No special deals for him... sucker.

Second of all, my TOTALLY AWESOME WICKED AYA COOKIE BOX. He told me when I got back from Bec's that he was working on an art project, and that I'd get to see it if I went to the movies. It turns out that the special art project was a tin, like the one I use to hold my famous cookies whenever I bring them places for people, except painted red with sunflowers on it with 'Aya Cookies' written on it. IS THAT NOT THE COOLEST THING YOU'VE EVER HEARD? And the sweetest, too. I mean, how many people do you know, guys especially, that would do something like that? I was--am--so utterly happy at this gift that I could barely speak. Even now, it still blows my mind. I'm sorry, but I never ever get cool handmade stuff, never mind cool handmade stuff that had thought put into it.

Okay, enough with the Ryan ranting. I'm sure all of you have concluded (rightly) that he's the awesomest dude in the world. I mean, everyone knows that 90% of all guys are stupid, but he's (as he puts it) in the other 20%. Hee hee.

Third of all. The title, the coolest thing today... the cat. The beautiful amazing adorable cat. That unfortunately belongs to Becs. You should all know that I've wanted a cat more than anything else in the world for the past two or three years. Of course, it's Becs that got one. Over the summer, actually. And if Papa didn't think all cats are inferior (though everyone else, even the allergic Brian, loves them), then we'd probably have one too. But that's not the point.

Bec's cat, Zues (yes, that's how she spells it), is huge, even though he's technically still a kitten. He's black, and insane. He claws, bites, and attacks everything that moves. And a habit I have is rubbing my feet in circles around each other. So this morning, while Becs slept like the dead, I was half asleep and automatically doing that when guess who! attacked my feet. I giggled, woke up more, and started moving them for him to attack. Eventually he got bored of the game and walked up me to my head, where he started nuzzling my hair. Then started purring. Loudly. Like a motor. And then (since it's so springy and curly and knotted and wool-y) he started gnawing at it and yanking it and clawing it. I, without looking, giggled again (me! giggling! can you imagine?) and reached up my hand to play with him. He attacked it, and then as I started petting and scratching him, started licking my forehead. He nuzzled a little more then walked to the other side of my head and lay down. No biting or scratching. He just lay down, purring all the while.

Eventually he curled up in to a little ball and lay there, purring while I scratched him all over. He moved once, rolling his head closer to his body. The purring was suddenly a lot louder. You see, I still hadn't moved the covers or even looked, so I couldn't know where he was or what he was doing, except by touch and sound.

I don't know how long we lay there, alone and silent, just me scratching and petting and him purring and eventually falling asleep. It felt like hours, but was probably only about 45 minutes total for the entire thing. All I kept thinking was 'Happiness is a warm cat', a quote from a Charlie Brown comic. That and how much I wanted to share this feeling of complete and utter contentment with someone. Becs was still dead to the world, and there was no one else that could possibly see and appreciate the scene, unless by some random coincidence Ryan or Gill ended up in Bec's house. They were, incidentally, the two people that came immediately to mind when I wanted to share the happy feeling I had.

Eventually I too grew sleepy and dropped my hand as his purring petered out amd he fell deeper into sleep. A few minutes later, he jumped suddenly and frenzied from his position, as if awakened from a bad dream and clawing my cheek in the process. This woke Becs up and that was the end of my yummy adventure into the world of warm cats and happiness.

I guess that I couldn't even really describe to Becs in words how it was for me, especially since she has a cat on her bed every day and I'm much better with the written word than the verbal one. So I guess that you guys, my readers, are the ones that I'm sharing this with. The simple pleasures in life are the yummiest. Some part of your holiday season, be it Hanukkah or Christmas or Kwanzaa, should include a simple joy like a warm cat, or even a hand-painted cookie tin.

Love and Harmony to all of you.

MistWeaver.

To Becca's House We Go!

It's beeen an interesting past few days. Yesterday I did absolutely nothing except sit on my butt (which is why I didn't update) and today was much more productive (sorta).

Dinner a couple of nights... Sunday, was it? ago was fun. Micheline wasn't there (had prior plans), Ken joined the boys for racing cars in the Living Room, and Ryan and I listened to much music. We exchanged gifts. Fun fact: both the gifts we got for each toher, we already had. Except taht he returned the book got me, having managed to figure out that I had it beforehand, and gave me a giftcard instead. My secret attempts to figure out if he had the REM DVD I got him were a little too secret... He mentioned everything he had of REM BUT the DVD. Grrr. Luckily, I got him a Gift Receit, so he could return it. He got a nice ska CD instead.

We also agreed to go see 'Meet the Fockers' together. We agreed to go on Tuesday (aka today). Since he convinced me to get AIM (AOL Instant Messenger), we've been talking for hours and hours straight. Awesome, no? Damned straight it is. His parents are making him work on homework every day of the Xmas holidays (except Sundays) from 9 AM to 3 PM. IS THAT UNFAIR OR WHAT? I'm sorry, but they severely irritate me sometimes. He works harder than anyone I know, especially on homework. But he still somehow finds time to talk to me, either on the phone or online, for hours every day or two. Unlike him.

Oh, and I've decided that he is dead. Mauled by mad beavers. Tragic, really. I'm just sick of how he always ignores me and basically confuses the hell out of me.

Anyways, back to Ryan. So bottom line is that me and Ryan talk a lot these days. And today, we were to meet at the theatre. And after that, to Becca's. Which is where I am now. And I'll expand on all of this later, so that I can spend valuable time with the awesome person that is Becca.

Who just hugged me for saying that. Don't see why. She is, you know. Awesome, I mean. AND DAMMIT EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW IT. And her cat rocks too.

Until later, then.

MistWeaver

Sunday, December 19, 2004

Christmas!!!!

Okay. I know there's stilla while to go. It's only the 19th. But I, for one, am thrilled nonetheless. I'm not Christian, nor am I religious in any way. The appeal in Christmas, for me, is (corny as it sounds) the feelings. The feeling of happiness at watching someone's face light up over a gift you gave, hearing everyone unconsciously singing along to the ever-present music, the smells of baking and cooking and... Well, you get the picture. I don't care if you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa (like we do, too), there's still holiday cheer.

Today, Mama and I are baking coconut bread. Coconut bread is a recipe and a tradition passed on from woman to woman in our family. It's our most closely guarded secret and our most widely shared gift. The recipe, on average, makes about 20-25 loaves, and we give one to everybody. On the other hand, it's always the matriarch that bakes it, and no one else. Gramma only gave Mama the recipe when she was near-death, but Mama's being a little more lenient and teaching me it bit-by-bit over the next couple of years. Yum! Anyways, I have a feeling the last loaf is ready, so I'll BRB.

Back. Am I good, or what? The bread was just about to burn, but perfectly cooked. On the other hand, the dishwasher was steaming. I kid you not. It was shooting steam out. Is that healthy? Somehow, I doubt it. Most of the built-in appliances in our kitchen are kaput. The oven? good for show. The stove? don't make me laugh. The dishwasher? should have been buried in the eighties. Not a day goes by where my mother does not lament over the beautiful, professional, fully functional appliances in our old house. That and the beautiful cork-thingie floor. I swear, we have the ugliest kitchen this side of Miami. But it works (to a point), so I guess we can't complain too much.

Ryan and his parents are coming over to dinner tonight. Ryan Logan, in case I've been remiss in my introductions, is a friend of mine whom I met at Becs' clown course graduation last year. We've become fairly close friends, and lately the whole meet-the-parents thing has been happening. Kai, loser that he is, came downstairs this morning crying and saying that he didn't want to cook. A little irritating, since he agreed on Thursday and spent all of last night choosing a meal with me. He's actually a most excellent Chinese Chef, in the style of my grandfather. Too bad his maturity doesn't match his prowess in the kitchen. Luckily, Mama agreed to step in and make dinner in his place.

Oh, yes. I nearly forgot. OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! MY NOVEL! MY NOVEL! IT'S... IT'S...

A BOOK!

I kid you not. My novel is no longer just a novel. It is a book, complete with cover, back cover, about the author, and even back-cover blurb!

I printed it out two-to-a-page, cut them in half, and bound them with keychain rings, laminating the front and back cover. It's... so real. *sniffle* I feel so... proud. I really truly accomplished something. My novel still needs editing, but it's fully readable and comprehensible in the format I made into a book. It's amazing. people are already signing up for copies. All I need is more keychain rings and a lot more paper.

Anyways, that's it for now. possibly I will update more after the Logans' visit. Speaking of which, they'll be here in a couple of hours and I need to finish wrappng all the coconut bread, get cleaned up, and tidy up my room and the hall in case Micheline (Ryan's mother) insists on seeing my room again. Ugh.

MistWeaver

Sunday, December 12, 2004

Vive les Ailes Brisées!

Just a quickie note that I have posted my finished novel online!! The link is in the title, and all of you who wish to read it but can't get a copy from me can experience it online! Vive les Broken Wings!

MistWeaver

Friday, December 10, 2004

Stories from the Springbank Slut

Update!: Mama and Brian thought that I looked awesome when they picked me up at 4. Take that!


I would say that my vacation's officially over, but this weekend is going to be a flurry of activity, so I'm probably not going to be able to post anyway. So instead of making a promise I won't keep, I'm going to say that vay-cay's over on Monday, instead.

I suppose that you're wondering what's up with the title. In answer to your question, I'm going to take you back to a time, long long ago... In other words, this morning at 6 30 AM.

I went through my usual routine: swear at the clock, stumble into the shower, swear at the stupid clogged drain that always makes me end up standing in two feet of water, vow to unclog it soon, step out of shower onto towel so as not to ruin the floor any more than necessary, swear at the small towel that I've been using for the past month, vow to change it soon, stumble into my room, shiver and swear at my lack of clean laundry, vow to do some more soon... You get the picture.

Today is the annual charity hockey game at school, so we're going to be spending most of the day watching hockey in the freezing arena. I figured that a skirt was out of the question if I didn't want to freeze. I searched through the piles of clothes for a while and finally came out looking (in my opinion) pretty good: purple medieval fitted tank top, black pants rolled up to the knee over mock-fishnets (that means that they're full tights but they have the fishnet pattern on them) and my new boots: black, pointy, heeled, with three buckles over the top and totally sexy. So I go downstairs, start going about my daily routine, when my father comes downstairs. Nothing new about that. He comes around the corner, sees me, and stops dead.

"Oh my GOD! Don't you think that's a little much? You look like a *cough*slut*cough*!"

I kid you not. He even did the mock sneeze 'slut' thing. Then he started going on about how I looked like a skank and a hooker (saying the actual words in mock-sneeze-thing, of course), etc. When I just ignored him, concentrating on the doubts now niggling me in my head, he got all offended and said that he should be allowed to get a little upset over what his daughter was leaving the house wearing. Which is true, of course. But there's a little thing called 'tact'. And he's gotten uptight about what I've worn before, but Mama and I can judge what truly looks good on us. This time, not only was he four times as rude as he's ever been, but he was also just being plain mean. I mean, no matter what I'm wearing I will always look much classier than most of the chicks at school. When he suggested that Mama would make me change too, if she was awake, I said nothing but wondered what she would truly have said. He even went so far as to make (not subtle in the least) suggestions to either roll down my pants so the tights didn't show or change my shoes to non slut-shoes.

I had grabbed one of Kai's loose button-up shirts to throw over me and under my coat while I watched the game so as not to freeze, and it was to this and my coat I headed before leaving. He saw what I was picking up and assumed I had listened to reason and was covering myself up. Of course, when he realized it was Kai's shirt he got pissy for an entirely different reason.

I would just like to state right now that I don't look like a slut. I look good, I'm not showing any cleavage or midriff. And you'll see what finally convinced me of this in a minute.

One of the worst parts? He had the nerve to ask me if I`ve edited my novel and offered to lend me his expertise and go over it for me and then get mad when I gave him the evil eye. I have friends who freaking argued from the day I finished over who got to read it first, and he acts like I should be honored he offered. Not to mention the sad fact that I'm a better writer than he is. A much better writer.

I decided that I'd ask my friends at school abotu my clothing, who are thankfully honest with me, and if I really did look like a low-class hooker, I'd button up Kai's loose shirt over my top and just go like that the entire day. When I got to school, I asked a whole bunch of different people without telling them why. Not a single one said that I even looked close to bad. I even got a couple of compliments!

It is with great pleasure that I shed Kai's shirt and walk with pride down the halls of the school.

And now class is over, so until later!

MistWeaver

Monday, December 06, 2004

So much for the break...

It's French class, and like every day lately, we have a sub and a work period. Deprived of things to do (actually work on my project? Perish the thought!), I've decided that my writing vacation can go on break and I can update my blog.

Let's see. What have I done in the past two weeks? Lots! Last week I had something different every day of the week, except Friday. Sometimes more than one thing! On Monday, I was supposed to go home for the second half of the day to wirite, but Brian took off with the car, and Papa was in Montreal and left (as usual) his car at the airport. So I was stuck. So I stayed. After school, I had a meeting with Mr Dearden (English teacher) and Keira (cica in English class) about the 'Evening of Culture'. If you're going to be in Calgary on the 15th of December, come! It will be... uh... culturous. Yeah, that's it. Anyways, that's what this French project is for, incidentally. But I'm also doing a couple of things with Drama club. Which is why I was meeting with Dearden, assistant Drama Club organizer and ex-Drama teacher. And I must say, why on EARTH did he change to English? I mean, he's an excellent English teacher, but watching him work with Keira was awesome. She improved more in that one 15-minute session than in all of last year's Drama and Speech classes combined.

Anyways. That was my Monday. Because I couldn't go home early on Monday (November 29, if you're not keeping track), Mama let me stay home all day Tuesday (November 30!!!!!). I had about 8000 words left. Remember the rest of the month, when I had trouble writing a measly 3000 a day? Well, I woke up at 8 30 AM (setting my alarm, I might add) and wrote. And wrote. And wrote. And wrote some more for good measure. And took one break, for about 15-20 minutes, when Inga came online. Because I hadn't talked to her since the beginning of November. I also took another 10-15 minute break when my mother dragged me downstairs to talk and eat.

While I was downstairs at that time, one of my mother's best friends, Vera, called. They've been friends since the age of sixteen, and I've called her Auntie Booba my entire life. When she wondered why I was home in the middle of the day, I told her that I was writing a 50k word novel this month, it was the last day, and I had 10k left. Do you know what she said to me? "Oh, you'll finish soon. If anyone can do it, you can." Or something like that. But she automatically assumed that I would finish. Not a single doubt in her mind. She hadn't even KNOWN I was writing it, and she had no doubt I'd finish.

Now that kept me going for at least 3 000 more words.

Also as I wrote, I started going writing-crazy. I heard voices. I heard people calling my name. I saw things out of the corner of my eye. And I got seriously freaking creeped out.

When everybody else got home from school and started coming online, I got the update on how Becca was doing. She was exactly where she wanted to be on word count, of course. I cheered when she cruised the 50 000-word mark around 6 30-7 PM. I kept writing while she attempted to get it verified, only to find there was a problem with the server and she couldn't! I kept writing, and just as Becca proclaimed that it had FINALLY worked, when I had only 200 words left...

Dinner was ready.

And Kai had been making Drunken Bang Bang (lmao I love that name) Chicken somewhat in honor of my accomplishment. 200 words! Only 200 left! And I had to go down to dinner.

Giddy much?

Yeah, I was giddy on the fact that I was almost done, the fact that my brother had put on IMA Robot on the stereo, and the fact that I was starving and half-mad from writing. I danced, skipped and laughed my way through my scarfed-down dinner and ran upstairs to finish.

And I finished.

I finished with fifty thousand, four hundred and fifty-three words. At 8 04 PM. And you know what else?

I FINISHED MY NOVEL. I didn't just finish the 50k, like Becca did. I finished my novel, complete with an epilogue. Now it needs a good spell check and a lot of work, of course, but I finished the entire novel.

Do a little dance! Make a little love! Get down tonight!

I had absolutely no trouble verifying it, either. And I got my awesome little banner that proclaims that I am a NaNoNovelist! And I got a certificate! A certificate! I'm going to print it out on good paper soon and fill it out with a calligraphy pen, and then frame it.

But as I browsed through the winners list later, I realised that there was something wrong. There was no 'Kung Fu Fighter', Becca's username, and no 'Alexandera Bluff', Becca's pen name. There wasn't even 'Rebecca Coulson'. Her verifying hadn't wroked after all! She had updated her word count, but she had no 'Winner!' verification.

What to do? It was closing in a few hours, and she most likely wasn't going to be back online to try again. I couldn't just let her go unrecognised...

So I verified mine on her account.

Yeah, I know. It was a bad, bad thing to do. But she had written 51 000 words, and we all knew it. It wasn't her fault that the website hated her. The word counter online only makes sure that you've written more than 50k. You could encode your novel by switching all As and Bs for Hs and Js if you wanted to, and it wouldn't matter. It doesn't count exactly how many, either, so it worked out perfectly. She ended up on the Winners list with averified word count and her own number inputted in, so it wasn't even like it was my word count on her profile. So I'm not a bad person! I just couldn't stand to see a month's work go to waste!

And Tasha (who's birthday it is today!) finished too. In case you're wondering who the heck Tasha is, well she's a friend of ours who was bored at the hospital for seven hours halfway through the month and decided to join, writing 27 000 words in those three days. She finished like three days before we did, too. So HURRAH! for us all. We all deserve hugs. Becca got me a mask, and I got her chocolate. We both gave Tasha birthday gifts and cards today instead of 'Congrats on NaNo!' gifts last week, because she wasn't at school most of last week.

Well, that was the beginning of last week. I printed off my novel and am in the middle of reading it for the first time. I have like 7 other people who are waiting to read it. I'm trying to make it smaller by making it a smaller font, but I've only gotten it down to 58 1/2 pages. Oh, well. It was 98 pages in 11-point Arial Narrow, which takes up about half the space of 12-point Times New Roman. I shrunk it to 8-point and made a few other format changes.

Lunchtime!

MistWeaver

Sunday, December 05, 2004

My Writing Break

Okay. So you're all wondering 'What the hell is her excuse this time? NaNoWriMo's OVER!'. Well, you're all right. It IS over. And I'm taking full advantage of the fact that yes, I did finish, and I no longer have to write 24/7. So I'm taking a break from writing. This includes blogging, I've decided. I love all you readers, of course, but I also need a well-deserved break. So I'm most likely not going to add anything new for the next few days, and then I promise that I'll resume posting regularly.

Actually to tell you guys the truth, I was going to give in to temptation and write a nice long post a couple of days ago, but the net messed up and the posting wasn't working. So I didn't completely forget about you all.

And by the way, this is my first post signed as a WINNER OF NANOWRIMO!!!! WOOOOOO!

MistWeaver

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Quick Question

Those of you that read my novel online (and yes, I'm sorry that I haven't updated it in a while. I've been writing it.), who is your favorite and least favorite character? Right now there's the four main ones: Lunai, pendis, Darcy and Jared, and then there's Sarah Harper. There are more of them, but unfortunately they aren't in the currently posted version. I just want to know so that I can decide who to focus on more when I start editing it and even while I'm being a Lean Mean writing Machine in the next while. Those of you that haven't yet read what there is so far of my novel, it's here.

How do you cast your vote? Just post it in a comment, and I'll keep tally here. please, it only takes a minute or two to click the 'comments' button at the bottom of the post, click 'post a comment', and then type the name and (if you want) why you do/don't like them. It will help me tons and tons, though.

Thanks!

MistWeaver.

Bah.

Well, I'm something like 15 ooo words away from 50k. Needless to say, I'll be writing for a very long time tonight and tomorrow. I'm only taking a break so that I don't kill something.

By the way, 'Christmas With The Kranks' is a fucking AWFUL movie. There's one or two funny parts, and a totally awesome kid named Spike, but that's about it.

About my weekend: Later.

And I KNOW that the pictures don't work. My photo-hosting server has a rotating URL so the hyperlink only works for about ten minutes. I'll fix it some other time. If one more freaking person comes up to me and goes 'Yeah, your pictures aren't there", then I'll fucking kill them. I fucking swear, I will.

Jeez, I sound like Eminem. Am I stressed out? You fucking betcha. My calming music is helping, though. If you're ever really stressed out or mad, download 'In perfect Harmony' by Within Temptation. They're not available in Canada, so I feel no guilt whatsoever in downloading their music. When I save up enough, I'm buying all their albums from... Finland, was it? I forgot.

Woo. I am at peace.

This one's for all you smokers out there, though. Quit. Now. I know you've tried, or you've heard it, but please stop. I'm fucking sick of choking to death on disgusting-smelling smoke. My mother used to smoke like 2 packs a day. Then she quit. Then we moved here. Now she smokes cigars. Brian, the semi family member that lives with us occasionally (long story). He smokes. I hate it. I hate being in the car with him. I hate being in the basement with him, when he's smoking. I can't breathe. I hate it.

My best friend now smokes. She lives far away but she's probably going to come and visit for a month next summer. And live in my room. I don't want her to come visit so much anymore because she smokes. I can remember how we'd give each other hugs and inhale deeply because we each thought the other smelled wonderful. Do I want to do that anymore? Fuck no.

I'm surrounded by smokers. Yet I've still managed to survive this long without joining myself. Tempted? You betcha. Resisted? Easily. Do you think I deserve to die from secondhand smoke because I never chose to start smoking myself? Fuck no. I don't. I used to want to die around the age of 25. I'm no longer depressed, thankfully, and I don't anymore. Do I still deserve to die young after finally figuring out that life's worth living? And what about the other millions of non-smokers out there?

When I spoke harshly in the car on the way back from the theatre with Mama and Brian on the stupidity of smoking and how they didn't even have the courtesy of trying not to smoke around non-smokers (some do but most don't, in my experience), Brian got all pissy and snapped "Well then don't drive because that pollutes way more."

Yes, it does. But does driving accomplish something? You betcha. When you live in the country and it's winter 8/12 months, you need to be able to drive. What does smoking accomplish? Lets you be just like millions of other people in the world? Wow, you must feel real special. Besides, there are things you can do to help car pollution. In Montreal, I live on public transportation. In the country, there is none, so I take the bus to school and carpool as much as possible. When I (finally) get my liscense, I'm going to try as much as possible not to put excess pollution in the air. I decided that ages ago. Whaddaya know? I decided it around the same time I decided not to smoke.

How did this come up, you ask? It came up on the discussion of Ontario's new tobacco policy. Within two years, they're going to have no smoking in any public place, which means basically everywhere but private residences. Also, they can no longer display tobacco. That means that instead of huge walls or displays full of different kinds of smokes, they're all hidden in a back room and you have to ask for them. This will help a lot, I thought. Mama disagreed. She said that it's great that they're trying, but the government gets too much money from tobacco for it to be effective. I agree, but it pissed me off. What the fuck is wrong with our world?

And with that question, I'm off to write some more.

Bye.

MistWeaver

Thursday, November 25, 2004

MY SUNRISE




Since I've gotten pictures up and running, I'm going on a pickie posting spree. My sunrise is here! I'm not sure how big the picture's gonna be on blog, but in the two top corners should be the blue of Lunai's eyes and the gold, of course, is the other colour in them.

::EDIT:: I've turned it into a link, instead. And as much as possible from now on, I'm going to have a 'Mood: XX' with a thumbnail pickie beside it.

No Title Today, Folks

Since most of you are most likely wondering why I haven't written in the past couple of days, I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count. I was busy. And now I shall continue where I left off, after skipping all of last week and going straight to last weekend and this week. Bec's coming over tomorrow so I probably won't be posting.

Okay. Last weekend. On Friday, we went to Lethbridge. Me and Mama, that is. It's about a two-hour drive, not too bad. We (meaning I) talked the entire way. Didn't get lost, checked in all right to the motel... Relaxed, then went and set up at the show. It was from 3 til 10, and Ava volunteered to work the first shift.






Mama and I went to eat at a Chinese place, and had a nice time talking (and eating). Then we returned and I took the next shift, while Mama and Ava went... wherever mothers go on their spare time, I guess. The woman next to us was selling light switch covers. Original, I must say. Mama got one for me (kinda), and put it away for presumably Christmas or something. I kept working til ten, when it closes. We went back to the motel and collapsed, utterly at peace. We relaxed, and read, and relaxed some more. The next morning Ava said we could sleep in and she'd open up, so we did. Read some more, then headed down to the show. Once again I took over for Ava and nher and Mama disappeared. Saturday was only 10 - 5, so I didn't have to work as long. Ava and Mama eventually came back, and I bought some soap from a cica vendor. Ava gave me the last of her silver bangles as half my pay, so now I have 7 bangles instead of one. They sound lovely whenever they move and clink together, and they're so much more delicate than the one I had already (an old family heirloom). Packing up, me and Mama returned to the hotel to relax until dinner at an Italian place with Ava's mother and her.

Lords, that was the best time I've had in ages and ages. We talked, we ate, we laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. I haven't laughed that much in months. I think we scared a lot of people, though.

You know what? None of us cared. Three generations of women (Ava's mum's 72), and all of us free-spirited and free-minded. Tis enough to drive anyone listening absolutely mad! Those are the real fun times. Just simple enjoyments, like laughing. People these days spend so much time worrying and working and scurrying about that we forget to just sit back and enjoy life sometimes. That was the reason I enjoyed last weekend so much. I didn't get any writing done, I didn't work at all, but I don't care, or have any regrets. I needed the vay-cay as much as Mama did. And it was a real vay-cay. Short, and we didn't go too far, but it was wonderful. Simply wonderful.

The next day, I had a bath.

Please withhold your gasps of alarm. I do take showers every day, but I never take baths, mostly because my bathroom light goes off after half an hour. Occasionally I go into Mama and Papa's bathroom to take a bath, but they're usually busy so I don't bother.

Oh, the joys of bathing!

Actually, even showering there was awesome. My bathroom is a disaster area, and I have to freeze my butt off every morning in the time after my shower where I run to my room butt-naked to get my towel, hanging on its hook. Luckily, I'm the only one awake at this time of morning so it only traumatizes me, from the cold. In the motel this isn't a problem. Nor do I have to sleep on my floor because my futon is covered in stuff. I sleep in a clean fresh bed with clean fresh pillows and I dry off IN the bathroom with clean fresh towels. Don't get waken up by my stereo turning on ultra-loud with that damned song that sends adreline pumping through my veins even when I'm not asleep, either. And no brother. No father. No friends. No freaking people bugging me every second, or calling, or...

I love my friends and family. I really do. But they're a source for mucho stress. There's one person who I wouldn't mind calling at all hours... But he's a different story. One that shall not be told here and now.

All things come to an end, unfortunately. We eventually had to leave. After a visit from Ava and a bone-crushing hug goodbye (I really miss Ava when she's not visiting. I wasn't kidding when I said that she rocks), we departed. A quick stop at A&W for food, but that's it. The vay-cay was over.

I could feel Mama getting more tense with every mile. Neither of us was eager to be getting back home. We ended up stopping at the Round Up Center for Taboo, the 'Naughty but Nice Sex Show'. A woman in my Glassblowing class, Barbie, was selling stuff from her clothing store (The Barbie Shop) there, and she gave us all free tickets. Bonus, because they were 15 bucks each. As usual, I didn't even get stopped or carded (can you believe that Jared says I don't look close to 18? Shows what he knows :^P) , and we spent a couple of hours there.

Another great time was had. Before you ask, it wasn't a pornographic type of thing. There was no one getting it on for everyone to see on stage or anything. It was more like a fair: lots of vendors, with contests and fashion shows and stuff like that. I got a mega awesome boa, too! But best of all: we had a great time. By the time we left, Mama was laughing again. And that is why I'd thank Barbie on my hands and knees for the tickets.

After that, our adventure was truly over. We stopped at a bank so that I could deposit the money Ava had paid me, and then headed home. The first thing I did was call Bec and tell her all about it. I wish we could have brought her along, but of course her mother'd have a hissy fit. I'm lucky I see her at all outside of school. It really sucks. All of my favorite people, I'm not allowed to see. Or at the very least, it's difficult. Becca's mother's psycho, Will's parents are racists, Inga's stepfather's against anything that will make her happy (like seeing her best friend).

But when I called, it was great. We chatted in that high-speed shorthand way that no one but us understands, and had a blast. Laughing, talking... More simple pleasures.

And then, as it inevitably does, Monday came.

Love and Harmony,

MistWeaver

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Aya: Working for a Living and Still Sleeping In Late!

Time for Saturday's rant. Or rather, the rant about Saturday. In a few words: I slept in. Yes, I did. The show started at 10 AM, and I woke up at 10 30. Oops, much? Luckily this was because I turned my stereo low (I didn't want to be woken up at 6 30 AM) and Mama + Ava didn't bother to wake me up. So I relaxed, took a shower, ate, and then walked over. I mean, it was only at the other end of Redwood and exercise = good. I should do more of it. If I had motivation then I would, too.

When I go there it was packed. More than packed. Squished tight. The room was a large rectangle and the vendors were all along the wall facing in and in a smaller rectangle in the middle of the room facing out. The entrance was at the bottom left and we were in the smaller rectangle in the top right corner. There was only a small aisle between the outer and inner vendors and it was packed. The crowd seemed to be going mainly clockwise. So you see, going with the crowd was going was gonna take a lot longer and a whole lot more patience than the other way. Therefore, of course, I took one look at the room, went 'screw this' and waded through the opposite direction. Mama and Ava were very surprised to see me and even more surprised that I had walked. A teenager? Willingly get exercise? Perish the thought!

They got over the shock quickly though, and departed, leaving me to face the masses of people that didn't seem to want to buy a damned thing. It was a boring and lonely job (since I was alone), but hey. I was getting paid and I'm supposedly a good salesperson. I daydreamed of him magically showing up and talking to me, or even Becca. Hell, anyone I knew and liked would have been welcome. Stefan (a friend of mine)'s mother Sabine had a booth, but he had work and so was nowhere to be found. Will Stelfox, an acquaintance but not close friend, said hi. That was it. Oh, yeah. The awesomely nice people in the booth across from ours (and incidentally the only other black people at the entire show, vendor or otherwise) came over and chitchatted when the crowd thinned and we were all bored out of our wits, too. Unlike us, they had sold like crazy both days. I suppose it's the market. Everyone loves wreaths and glowing things and handmade Christmas/Winter decorations. Creekers and Meadow-ers don't really do the whole original , 'different' artistic jewelry thing. Especially Tribal art. Cowboys and Western? Yeah. But African and Tribal? Fuck no. And don't deny it, Creekers! You know it's so true. Hell Albertans, period.

With a couple of stop-ins by Mama and Ava, the day passed and it was eventually five o'clock. We covered our stuff and took off. I wrote, and did various other things upstairs because Brian's computer was on the blitz. There was a NaNoWriMo meet-up at Boston Pizza at 6 30, but I had figured that no one would want to drive me so soon after the show. Turns out that someone could most likely have driven me, but hey. Ya can't have it all.

That night, like the night before (did I forget to mention this?) I stayed up and wrote til 2 30 or 3 am, determined to get those 3000 words in. I borrowed Papa's laptop and did it downstairs on the couch and later the floor, with the help of caffeine.

Caffeine. Dontcha just love it? I didn't drink it at all before this November, not for many years. Herbal tea was my Goddess.

Love.

MistWeaver.

PS. The rest of the week'll ave to wait cuz I'm hungry and tired. I'm gonna bed. My slacking off ends at Midnight and that's in an hour so I'd like to be sleeping by then, thanks.

Next! Ava, Closet Doors, and a Whole Lotta Huffing and Puffing

Okay, back for Round Two! In case you're not up-to-date, scroll down to 'Apologies, Time Travel, and a Lost Younger Brother'. I hope to at least get the weekend done and written down here tonight, so that I can write and write some more on NaNoWriMo.

So, next. Friday. I woke up earlier on Friday, though it was a PD day and there was (yet again) no school. Early, of course, means something like noon or one pm. I can't quite remember what I did earlier on in the day, but somewhere around 2 or so Ava appeared, quite suddenly, in Mumsy's bedroom. I walked in and she was there! There was hugs and hellos, and we all talked for a while before loading up for the show. We had to be set up by seven, starting at four. We delayed as much as we could and ended up there by 4 30 or five.

Now, my mother has a custom and simply gorgeous display case with 'Ti' carved into the front and all sorts of other goodies, courtesy of Brian, who made it for her. The only problem: It's wood and glass and freaking huge. Ava and I lugged it to the car with only minimal butt-squishing against doors and crushed body parts, and thankfully no tripping or dropping. After that, the rest was a piece of cake! Well, kinda. There were two closet doors as well, the big white kind that slide/fold open, that we filched from the front closet and were going to use as displays for her clocks.

We had been told that we got the same spot as last year (though we didn't have Ava last year), and so we piled into the cars and went to the Golf Clubhouse, one of the two locations (at either ends of Redwood). We got out and all industrial like, gathered the closet doors and meticulously made our way into the clubhouse. Though the damned door things are bigger than us, we were women and so we prevailed. Upon entry into the clubhouse, we were greeted by Karen (the organizer and my brother's bus driver) helping people set up in OUR space. What was this? The traitor!

Her and Ava called out things to each other that I didn't catch with my limited hearing and I bewilderedly followed them back out, back to the car, still carrying the freaking closet doors. Apparently not only were we not at that place, but we weren't even in the clubhouse! We had been relocated to the Ostrich Egg lady (dont' ask) 's spot in Redwood House.

Of course then we got there and had to unload it all. Again. After nearly killing myself several times because I had shoved my feet into the nearest shoes on my way out and was now stuck unloading on ice in heels, we got all of Mama's stuff unloaded. Then there was Ava's stuff. She was parked around back. There was an icy slippery hill and stairs involved. Nuff said.

I brought in all of her stuff and Mama and I discovered the cool new stands and displays her husband had made for her. The cool new displays that made the closet doors unnescessary.

Oh, a note: Mama fucked up her wrist. Again. Poor old dear. -snicker- Ima get whacked for that one. -cough- But anyways. The point is that all the heavy lifting and hauling that I'm talking about is all getting done by either me or Ava or both.

So the closet doors got luigged all the way back to the car.

Finally, finally, after laying out and organising (if you'd call it that) and basically setting up to our heart's desire, we all piled into the cars and headed home. We didn't have to be back til the wine and cheese party at 7. Mama and Ava relaxed and drank wine and had fun. I... Well, I actually don't remember what I did. Maybe I read...?

In any case, at quarter to seven we all changed and got dolled up (or as dolled up as we're going to get for -turns up nose- the likes of Redwood Meadows) and piled back in the car and drove back to the Redwood House. To sum up the rest of the night: horrible wine, no sales, and an interesting diatribe between me and Ava on the way back that consisted mainly of insults about youth and ... uh... old age. Can't remember much of it now but we laughed and Mama 'oooooooh'-ed over each one that was particularly bad. I got in the last word, for once. ^.^

And that was my Friday night. Last Friday, that is.

MistWeaver.

Time Travel, Apologies, and a Lost Younger Brother

First things first: Apologies! I haven't written in nearly a week and I apologize profusely. I've been majorly slacking off, and I don't regret it a single eensy weensy bit. Ava and Mama told me and told me to take a break, and though I've figured that break would come in Decemver, I was so totally wrongL fate had other plans for me.

A trip in time seems to be in order. I last wrote (if you'd even call it that) on Wednesday. I'll start at the Thursday before that, then. Ill post them as separate posts so that I don't take up as much room. That's me, ever the conservative one!

And so, on to my Thursday: I took advantage of Remembrance Day (no school!), and slept til 2 pm. Or somewhere close to that. Then, I descended to The Room Where Time Does Not Pass (aka Brian's basement). And wrote. Until 5 30 pm. I was only interrupted once, around 3 or so, when Mama came down and asked if I had any idea were my brother was.

Then, at 5 30, Mama came down again and asked me to help clean the house, for lo and behold! Mme. Ava was coming to visit for the Redwood art show. I graciously agree to donate my time and effort, of course, and happily folded clothes with neither hesitation nor complaint.

And if you believe that you're dumber than I expected. Who am I kidding? I bitched like no tomorrow for having my mad writing spree interrupted, but did helped anyway because Mama already works too hard and could use the help. Then I went downstairs and had a break for another hour. I got hungry as I was startin' up the ol' motor again for another mad writing spree and decided that since my brother was still nowhere to be found, perhaps Mumsy would be open to food suggestions. I easily convinced her to go out for dinner since we had nothing to eat but toast and we were running out of that, too.

Being the dutiful and caring mother she is, though, she insisted that we find Kai first. He tends to disappear at his friends' houses often and for long periods of time, so up until then we hadn't really worried. He should have been home by then, though. So we (meaning I) called up Millerville and called up my father and basically asked around. Funny thing is, no one answered their damned phone! I left plenty of messages. At that point, Mama remembered that he had possibly gone to Lethbridge with his friend for the weekend. So armed with that knoledge (or assumption), we headed off into the big bad world... Bragg Creek.

And had a very nice dinner at a nice restaurant. And then went home. The end, or as much as I can remember of it.

Next up: Friday and possibly more!

MistWeaver

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

My pickies!

Fuck. Once again I wrote a nice long post and once again it got deleted. I really hate this computer. Oh, well. That was last night. I've given up on worry. If I hadn't I would have gone crazy from .. oh, let's see. MY SCHOOLWORK?!? Ugh, but that's another story. Love you guys lots but I hafta go.

MistWeaver

Monday, November 15, 2004

Novel Update: The Beginning of Week III

Just a quickie update before I go on with my writing. It's now Day I of Week Three and Day 15 of NaNoWriMo. My total word count as of this minute: 27466, a little over halfway done. This is good, since it's halfway through the month. The 466 is the beginning of my word count for today, 1/6th of it, to be exact.

I'm lying here on my father's laptop watching Van Helsing with my brother. I saw it in theatres and saw most of it again at a friend's for a sleepover-movie-fest thing two weeks ago. Great movie, though. Well, I guess it's back to writing for me.

"Igor! Why do you torment that thing so?"
-rueful shrug- "It's what I do."

MistWeaver

"Go Fuck Yourself WIth A Kosher Salami"

I have had my first experience with Stage West Dinner Theatre. And what's-her-face, Dawn something-or-other from Gilligan's Island, who was in the play. And I have also learned something: CHIVALRY IS NOT ENTIRELY DEAD, DAMMIT!

Well, it is in our youth and adolescent generation. Hell, not only is it dead: it's (like King Taur Urgas in the Belgariad-Malloreon series by David Eddings) had it's throat cut, been stabbed a couple of times and was buried head-first ten feet underground with a tight scarf around it's neck, just to make sure.

I'm not talking about our adolescent generation, however. I'm talking about our average Stage-West attending crowd: old. Fucking old. Well, in my opinion.

What IS Stage West, you ask? Well, it's a dinner theatre. With an all-you-can-eat buffet and a crazily expensive ticket. How did I, of all people, end up there? With my father, no less? Well, he had tickets and no one to take. I was the prime candidate for (shudder for all of us teens out there) bonding time. Besides, I like theatre and love food. Besides, in case it was 18 and over (it wasn't), I could get in.

Today was the last day of the Show and Sale. I'll go on about that tomorrow (if I'm not dead), so that I can devote my attention to the convos I had there and the show itself.

First, it was a semi-formal place. Unlike the teens who seem to feel that dressing up is a clean pair of jeans, this is taken seriously. My dad, who was wearing jeans and a dressy top, was nearly denied entrance. Though I'm not exactly a snob, it was kinda nice to be around people who actually took the time to dress up, no matter how old they were. Also, I got treated like a (gasp) lady. This is why I'll never be a feminist: inside, I'm secretly thrilled when a guy treats me like I'm something special or delicate, not some cica who swears a lot, has short hair and can kick most guys asses.

Like, when I came back form my first trip to the buffet, a waiter happened to be walking by. I went to pull out my chair and sit down and he went 'here, let me' and pulled my chair out for me, not because I had my hands full or anything, but as a courtesy because I was a cica (girl, in case you were wondering). It was very gentleman-y of him. I know it's not part of his job because I saw lots of chicks sitting down and he didn't offer to pull out all of their chairs for them. Then again, I was the only one who looked under 25. Hell, under 30.

I dunno. I guess I'm old-fashioned at heart. Not that I'd want to stay at home and do nothing my entire life but look after my kids and clean. In fact, that's kinda my worst nightmare. But little things, like having the guy ask you out instead of vice-versa, being offered his coat when you're cold, having your chair pulled out for you... Like I said, they make me feel like I'm something special. Not that I won't ask someone else out, offer my coat to a dude if he's cold, or sit down unless my chair is pulled out. But it does give the guy mucho brownie points (taking notes yet?). Too bad chivalry is deader than Elvis in people my age.

As for the play itself... It was called something like "Tales from the Allergist's Wife" and starred, like I said, that cica from Gilligan's Island... Mary-Ann... Uh... Dawn More? Dawn something-or-other. It was supremely amusing, made me think, and I even wrote down some quotes from the old Jewish mother-grandmother chick, who was probably one of my favorite characters (there were only 5, but what the hell), including the title of this post. I also liked the reply another male character said a minute later to something else she said in addition... "She's an equal-oppurtunity fuck-you-er" Neehee. "There will be no international acts of terrorism in this house!" was another of the ones I liked.

Sadly, it finished. Yeah, I know that it was bound to happen, but hey. Whatevah, dahlinks. I had a couple of interesting talks with my father that night too, but since I REALLY need to start writing as it's already past midnight, I'll leave that for tomorrow as well.

Toodles!

MistWeaver

Whoops!

Whoops. Not applicable. It posted, after all. ^.^

Saturday, November 13, 2004

Something random that makes very little sense.

Mood: Exhausted, caffeine high, and sick to death of writing.

Ugh. It's been a long day. Or at least it has since about 3 30 pm today. That's when we left to go set up at the Show and Sale my mother and her friend Ava are making the stuff for and I'm marketing. Selling. Whatever.

Yes, that means that Ava has returned to stay with us. Yay! Having Ava here is always awesome. She's... well... ageless, blunt, and one of the awesomest people I know (also an avid MC-reader so boo-yah!). Her artistic skills are also a force to be reckoned with. Together, Shadow Studios (her) and Ti's Kreed (my mother) shall RULE THE WORLD!!!

Yeah, I know. Cut it with the caffeine.

But honestly! I need it! It's 12 27 AM and I'm only half done my word count! The reason I'm not busy typing away to complete it right now? Simple. I'm SICK TO FREAKING DEATH OF WRITING. It's something I would never have expected to happen, but it did. So instead of throwing my computer out the window or something equally futile, I'm taking a break to write in my (sadly neglected of late) blog.

So, let's go over my week, shall we? Broken Wings-readers will be pleased to know that I've updated the online version of my novel (here if you haven't caught the link in my blog description at the top of this page). I'm also gonna post my good friend Bec's novel once I get the time to create a new account in her name and go through the template changes. Believe me, it's worth it (though her novel has even more grammar/spelling mistakes than mine).

Uh, the last time I gave a real post was something like the 8th, right? That's Monday. What has happened this week? Let's see...

Monday: The day is blurry. Lemme try and remember. I had Drama club, I think. Yes, I did. Double Drama I think (woo.) then English...? then Drama club. I spent it talking to Jared and Bec about everything from the difference between huggable, lickable, munchable, biteable and (the VERY rare) digestable, to the movies playing in theatres (or rather, vice-versa). We agreed that there were many huggable guys in the school, several lickable guys, some biteable guys and even one (my opinion) or two (Bec's) munchable ones. For the sake of the adults who read this (since they couldn't possibly relate to the convos of two teenage girls and a dude, of course), I'll cut out the rest.

Tuesday: Uh... the day is even blurrier. Double French (woo again.), then Drama (double woo.) then Drama club again (It sucked. Nothing to tell.) then Drama (need I add the sarcastic 'woo' again?) then... something... Social.

Wednesday: Last day before four-day weekend! For Remembrance Day ceremonies, I dressed up nicely in black and got (yet another) poppy. Double English first, after announcements. We read some of the really beautiful poetry the class wrote for our "Moment of Beauty" assignment (the one I emailed my teacher about because I didn't have time to do it, remember?). It put me really at peace, one of them especially. I wish even more that I could have done it. I vowed that when I was less busy, I'd do it, even if it'd be way too late to put into the anthology he made of them for us, and even though I won't get a grade for it.
Next was the Remembrance day ceremonies. He was sitting right near me, and it would have been nice to go talk to him, but alas it was not to be. There was a large gap separating us, anyway. Am I not pathetic, wanting to go next to him even at something like a school function? Gah. The things males do to us poor females. Soon, though, I had (mostly) forgotten about him as the ceremony got underway. It was just so sad... Ugh. Even if I can't make a difference in the world (and I know I can), I will never do anything to support war and unnecessary death, even if it means inadvertantly getting into a lot of shit with authorities of all kind.

Gah, I'm never gonna finish my word count. I'll finish this later. See you on the other side...

MistWeaver

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Tales from the Lean Mean Writing Machine

Mood: full and pumped

I know I haven't written in a couple of days, but I do have a reason: I've been busy. In fact, I spent today writing. I still have a ways to go, and I swear that I'll update this blog as soon as I'm done.

Also, those of you who read my novel will be happy to learn that although I haven't updated it in longer than my blog, I'm going to update it right now. You will also be pleased to know that I have 2 chapters to add, as well as the rest of Chapter Three.

A caution, however. I haven't even read over what I've written, and some of it was done when I was extremely sleep-deprived. I actually succeeded in shutting up my inner editor, so I haven't edited any of it. At all. I also believe that my novel's getting progressively worse as I go along, but that's just my ignored inner editor speaking, not me.

I've ditched Microsoft Word. I like it and all, but I have found a better word processor. It's called 'Rough Draft' and it has as wonderful sidebar that lets you store notes and all sorts of wonderful things. You have to try it if you're a writer, don't just rely on my word. My only complaint is the formatting options: it's difficult to format certain things in your document (I still haven't figured out how to add an automatic indent on the first line of each paragraph or get rid of overtype when I accidentally turn it on).

Anyways, it's back to work. Cheerio!

MistWeaver

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

ALL HAIL THE QUEEN: CAFFEINE!

Technically the bell just rang, so I should be going to class. However, I've decided that I can be late, because he (namely, the teacher) knows where I am.

Damn. I guess I better go. Ttyl.

Monday, November 08, 2004

The many fun faces of Novel writing

Well, it's been a fairly uneventful weekend. I spent it writing, writing, and oh! Guess what? Writing! I'm at 11 100 words and I haven't finsihed my word count for the day.

I also, as you can see, posted my novel online. I'm quite proud of that fact, since it was done after I was done my word count for Saturday. Of course, it doesn't yet have today and yesterday's additions, but those will be coming shortly. Since I'm listening to Jack off Jill (a BAND, for all you sickos out there that haven't come into contact with my music choices as of yet), among other Shriek songs, I am not writing (it distracts me too much).

I don't have much to say about today, except for Social, which was, as usual, crazy. My only amusing anecdote is from this morning.

First, let me start off by talking about last night. Papa came home from Belgium (CHOCOLATE!), Brian went back to Fort McMurray, and I talked to Will, who has taken over the task of drawing things from my novel. Last night I knocked him out of a bad mood and he enthusiastically went about the task of drawing Lunai. His only problem was her eyes. The colours are such that they're very hard to describe. I spent a lot of valuable novel-writing time trying to do exactly that, but I have no regrets. I finished my word count all the same.

So, this morning, imagine my surprise when I walk outside to wait for my bus and catch sight of the sky. In case you've never witnessed an Albertan sunrise, well let's just say they're pretty. Supremely pretty. This one was no exception, but the weird part is that the sky was the EXACT colour of Lunai's eyes. The clouds were molten gold, and the sky around them was a dark clear blue that took my breath away. What took my breath away even more, however, was the realization that a picture would be perfect. Maybe Brian had left his camera here...

And so, dropping my stuff where I was standing, I dashed inside (in full heels, might I add) and ran downstairs to the basement, where his room is. Tearing it apart, I realize that no, he had not left his camera here. Cursing at the top of my lungs, I ran back upstairs and outside to where I had left my bags.

It was then that I remembered that my mother had recently won a digital camera, and that last I had seen it, it was sitting in the back seat of the car, unopened. And what's more, if I remembered correctly, it came with batteries included! And so, dashing to open the garage door, I ran and prayed the door to the car was unlocked. It was! I tore apart the inside, searching everywhere, but it seemed that she had brought it inside the night before, after all. I started to leave, my last hope gone, but I caught sight of it laying on the far back seat. Let us all rejoice! The Heavens are merciful!

And so, holding it triumphantly above my head, I trudged back over to where I was to wait for my bus, nearly killing myself on the ice as I did so. I tried to open it, but oh, no! Yet another problem! It was sealed in that *&^$% unopenable plastic packaging. I figured that we had to have scissors in the kitchen. So I dropped my stuff yet again and ran for the house, using the side entrance this time. Entering the kitchen, I discovered that we had no scissors. Fate was mocking me. I desperately grabbed a knife and started clawing at the package, trying valiantly to cut it open. Since the damn knife appeared to be dull, I grabbed a sharper, sturdier one and with a single huge swipe of my hand, sheared it in half. Clutching my prize, I walked valiantly back to the corner where I had left my stuff.

There was a brief panicked moment where I feared that the batteries were not included, after all, but luck was with me: there were two AAA batteries packaged in that godforsaken packaging along with the camera. Also, still wrapped in the adreline rush from the Quest for the Camera, I couldn't figure out how to turn it on. It is, after all, a very simple and cheap camera. Finally I pressed the only other button on it besides the shutter release, and knew the satisfaction of seeing the word 'hi' appear on the tiny screen.

"Hi," I muttered to myself. "This must be good. It's friendly."

I fiddled with it and hoped that I'd taken a couple of pictures. Then, trying to figure out how to turn the damned thing off (when I pressed that one button again it said 'Of' but didn't do anything), I finally did what I probably shoudl have done in the first place: found the instructions manual and checked it. Unfortunately, the instructions manual didn't have any more of a clue how to turn it off than I did. It did, however, know how to take pictures with the thing far better than I. panicked now, thinking that I hadn't actually taken any pictures and the beautiful sky-scene was gone, I snapped off a few more, just to be sure.

Luckily, the bus came right about then and the camera was saved from my desperate attempts to capture my character's eyes in a picture.

Ttyl,

MistWeaver

Saturday, November 06, 2004

My Novel

Now this deserves a real WOOHOO. I've finally got my novel up and posted. Visit it here. The link is http://mistynano2004.blogspot.com, in case you were wondering for future reference. I'll post a link somewhere in my template for easy reference.

Oh, and if you ever read this, sorry Jared. The character named after you is a bit of an asshole.

"They're taping the bunny to the bottom of the desk. Am I the only one who finds this just a TAD suspicious?"

WOO! I'm done my word count for the day. All I need to do is catch up on the word count for the rest of the days I've missed. Roughly calculated, that's... let's see... six times three... 18000 words. DAMMIT. I'm done less than half that. Well, I guess I'll just have to write a shitload more today and a shitload more tomorrow. And then write a shitload more over the 4-day weekend next week. And still not fail in school. And still keep my friends.

Shit.

But for now, I'm taking a break from the world of Lunai, Pendis, Darcy and Jared. And speaking of Jareds, let's talk about Friday.

First in Friday's schedule was, of course, the announcements. I'm assuming that since I can't remember anything about them, they must have gone okay and unremarkably. Next was French. Jared and this dude named Evan hadn't yet presented their skit that we had to do (remember my puppets?). So we all waited for them to set up and I wrote more of my novel while I waited. Their set-up was making me intensely curious, though. They appeared to be attempting to tape a stuffed bunny to the bottom of a desk. I looked around, but no one else seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. I watched them struggle a while longer and wished that I still carried duct tape around with me. It would help them a lot, because the scotch tape obviously wasn't working. Then again, Jared and Evan weren't exactly using long pieces. Finally I couldn't stand it. I turned the the chick (Jen, I think. Most of the girls in my class are completely interchangeable) next to me and said 'am I the only one who finds the taping of the bunny to the bottom of the desk the slightest bit suspicious?'

Evidently I was, because she just gave me the look they all reserve for me ('The Weird One Who Actually Speaks French') and was like 'I think it's a pig or something, not a bunny'. I was already regretting having shared my thoughts, and I said 'pig, bunny... whatever' and turned back to my novel. Why are the only interesting people (besides Lindsay and Katie) in my French class male? And why do they all sit across the room? At the very least, I could talk to Richard or Jared. But nooooo. The first thing Mrs. Comba did after I joined the class was put me next to the other dude who could (apparently) speak french. I was in the middle of all the guys and they were actually nice to me, even though I was younger and TWOWASF. Then, after the dude dropped out of school, she decided she was going to change around the seating plan. Okay, that sounds fair, right? Yeah, I was the only one she moved. All the way across the room.

The skit turned out to be very weird, and I never did quite figure out why the stuffed pig or bunny or whatever was taped to the bottom of the desk.

Ta,

MistWeaver

Prop her up and dust her off... part II

G'day, folks! I got a full twelve hours of sleep last night and I'm rearing to go for a new day full of writing.

Well, I'm up and at em, at least.

First off: I shall continue from yesterday's post. Then I shall describe my Friday. Then I shall leave you faithful readers to catch up on my word count. I also may not post much over the next couple of days, mainly because I doubt my life will be interesting (nobody to do anything with) and because it will be taken up by writing. I'm going to try to get my novel up and posted, though. If not this weekend, then sometime next week.

So let's take a trip back to Thursday, shall we? Where was I? Ah, yes. The art opening. Those things are amazing. The main show was wearable art, so there were amazing costumes reminiscent of the ArtaWEARness fashion show I was in, in April. There my mother's group of designers/jewelers made outfits made entirely from black fabric and copper. I was an African Warrior Queen, with dozens of small copper leaves sewn onto the edges of my dress. I was dressed, literally, to kill. My outfit was designed by my mother, and made entirely by my mother. Some of the other costumes our group had were the Egyptian Queen (original design by Mama, adapted and ruined by this woman named Sandra, vaguely fixed by Mama and her friend Ava, worn by Ava), the 20`s Flapper (designed by my mother, all the copperwork--hundreds of copper tendril beads-- done by Ava, assembled by Sandra, worn by Michelle).

As you may be able to guess, Sandra wasn't the most productive member of the commitee. In fact, I seem to remember Ava telling her that she'd drop out of the show if she had to wear the... creation... Sandra made out of my mother (who majored in Fashion Design) 's original pattern for the dress.

The reason I tell you all of this is that my mother and I were watching the people go up and down the stairs that was the 'runway' of sorts, and guess who we saw? Michelle, next in line take her turn on the runway. Guess what she was wearing? Her dress from ArtaWEARness. Guess who was standing behing her in the artist's position? Sandra. Guess who Dee (the founder of the jewelry department and MC) named as sole artist in the making of the dress? Sandra. My mother and Ava (who was at her home north of Edmonton) never even heard that the dress was being used again. Ava's name wasn't even mentioned in passing. Boy, was my mother spitting mad. I'm jsut glad Ava wasn't there, because then we'd have a murder on our hands: the death of Sandra's respect as an artist.

Then again, Lady Karma can be a bitch. Sandra's gonna get hers, and get hers badly.

Let's move on to after the main show. My mother and I talked with some of her old friends from last year, when she was taking classes at the Alberta College of Art and Design. We saw, were seen, and basically had a great time. We even went into the bar for a drink or two (hers, not mine: I don't drink) and no one questioned my right to be there. Mama treated me more like a younger person capable of mature and independant thought than a teenage daughter.

Eventually though, we had to leave to pick up Brian at the airport. Brian was originally a friend of the family who fell on some (really) hard times, and moved in with us. Since then he's become a part of the family and moved out two months ago to go work in a town an 8 hour drive north (?) of us called Fort McMurray. He's only been back to visit once (Thanksgiving) because of his job as a contractor, so it was great to see him again. He's another one who's never underestimated me because of my age.

The moment we picked him up though, I was relegated back to my position of daughter who got to go along because there was nothing else to do with her. Sorry, playtime's over, hon. Time to remember that you went to the art show because it was convenient instead of driving back and forth after the p-t interviews.

I feel like that sometimes with my mother. I'm her friend and companion when there's no one else available. The rest of the time, I'm just her precocious, smart-assed kid. That's okay, I suppose, except that I'd rather have a better balance. Can't I be both at the same time? I guess not., because while we're out somewhere, the latter is a hindrance while the former is a help.

I guess I'm digging my own grave here, because as far as I know she reads my blog everyday. Never let it be said that she's not supportive of anything I do! I have to give her another shout-out, too: she's been giving me a lot of breaks from nagging so that I can write my novel.

Speaking of my novel, I have to go write for a while before I can justify another long post. Be back later!

MistWeaver

Friday, November 05, 2004

Prop her up and dust her off...

It's a brand-new day and I'm fully refreshed and ready to rock. Kinda. Well, I'm fully functional. That works, I guess.

Yesterday was an interesting day. My english teacher (who I feel I must fall on my knees and worship one of these days because he is so nice) decided to have mercy on me and cut me some slack on a project that was due but that I had absolutely no time to do. In French, as you well know if you read my last post, I got nothing accomplished except the completion of another entry in here. In Drama, I found out that my mark is low because of a misunderstanding between my teacher and I. All in all, things ended up semi-okay. Kinda. In any case, by the time I got home I was ready to go back to bed.

Unfortunately, this was not an option. I wrote my novel until it was time for the (gasp! shudder!) Parent-Teacher Interviews. Since my mother had to go to an art opening downtown afterwards, I got to go too!

Now, there's something you have to understand about these openings. The point is to see and be seen. Emphasis on the 'be seen'. It's also a collection of all the 'other' people in Calgary. This means the (duh) artists. This means that everyone is dressed outrageously. And that, my dear readers, is my cup of tea. My mother's, too. So there we were, both dressed really wickedly (and we looked hot, if I do say so myself), in full all-out makeup (bleah but necessairy), including the black lipstick that changes my appearance drastically. Since the p-t interviews started first, we were there looking very... different... Lords, how we must have stuck out. Especially since I had been in my worst clothes and half-asleep and miserable all day.

Imagine my surprise when I saw him there. Apparently, his parents didn't forget about the interviews, after all. Sucks to be him, I guess. When I pointed him out to my (over-) curious mother, she said that he looked like a Hanson brother. Jeez. Can you imagine? Hanson brother... *shudder*. I also didn't get to talk to Monsieur Hanson because my mother made me sit and wait with her for all my teachers.

Anyways. Moving on to the show. Twas mah-va-lous! Simply mahvalous! I love events like that, because you're never overdressed. places like Art Central (where we were) and ACAD (Alberta College of Art and Design) are the only places in this stupid godforsaken province where I feel like I belong. My mother was awesome, too. We laughed and joked and had real 'bonding' time. Of course, for us this meant that we pretended that I was much older than I really am and I had to model all of her jewelry, but we still had fun.

This brings me to the reason for my title. Unfortunately, I must run: My mother's dumping me off at the shopping centre because she doesn't want to have to drive me later, when my movie is.

Tata!

MistWeaver

Thursday, November 04, 2004

Destroy me now, please.

Gods, I'm tired. Tiredness has been a constant companion for the past couple fo days, but today was the worst.

Rereading my last post, I have to apologize. I couldn't even figure out what parts of it said.

Monday was a good day. I should have relished it a little more, because the rest of the week so far has sucked more than a Hoover. Well, that's not quite true. Yesterday was cool. But yesterday was also tiring and very long. Thanks to the Learning for a Sustainable Future conference I went to with part of my Global Conscience group, I was up from 6 am to midnight. I left home at 7 am. I got home at 11 pm. The conference ended at four, but I had glassblowing class. Over three hours of wonderful hot glass that will scar you forever with burns if you even brush it. Huge furnaces (gloryholes) aptly nicknamed 'Windows to Hell' and the 'Burning Pit of Doom' at temperatures exceeding 1200 degrees.

I love it, of course. But I was so tired that I was messing up even the simplest things. The heat was almost unbearable, too. I still managed to make two bowls and an adorable paperweight. I guess I'll have to wait to get them, though. It takes about 8 hours to cool down the glass after you're done blowing.

As for the conference, well, it was awesome. We got programs we could use in school and I actually got inspired to want to really do something to change the world.

The day before that, though. That one sucked. Certain things about certain people (who may read this, so I will not elaborate) kind of made me homicidal... Well towards men, at least. Actually, I wanted to hang all men by their balls. This includes Bush and Kerry and Cheney and Nader and Martin and all the rest of the dickheads who decided that going into politics would be a good idea.

Am I the only one who noticed that not a single politician's hair moves? Seriously. Check it out. And if anyone happens to find a politician who's hair will move, then please let me know. Be prepared to prove it. I'm sure that it's a requirement somewhere that to be a politician, your hair cannot move.

Anyways. Moving on. Today was pure hell. When I started to type this post, all I wanted to do was go somewhere and destroy myself. Luckily, writing is therapeutical for me. I no longer want to cause myself much physical pain. Now, I simply want to curl up somewhere and cry. Wrapped in blankets. With *someone's* warm shoulder to put my head on. And a hug. A hug, too.

What could possibly have happened to make me go so low? To be honest, I'm not sure. I know that most of it is probably exhaustion. When I get tired, I get vulnerable. You know, I probably shouldn't have admitted that on a public site, but it's true. 80% of the times I've cried in the past year, I've been tired. Another part of it most likely has something to do with my marks. This year, for the first time in a while, I've been getting really high marks. I got the stupid idea that I could win an award or something at Awards night. And now all my marks except English went down over ten percent from our last term reports. I'm determined to bring them up, but it's looking a little hopeless today. And I'm so busy I can barely think. I'm way behind on my word count in NaNoWriMo, I haven't handed in half my homework and I have to make jewelry for the Arts and Crafts sale in a week. I also had to cancel my Reiki class to work for my mother at the show. I'd like it a lot more if I had someone to spend time with, but I don't.

I'm in French class right now. Luckily, I'm done all my homework except the project that we're supposed to be working on right now that's worth somethign like 40% of our mark. I'm alone, of course. That's okay, though. I'm going to do it anyway, and I'm going to do it well and fucking get a good mark if it kills me. Which it feels like it might.

My headache's getting worse.

Anyways, about French. After the computer deleted half of my novel at lunch (luckily I have a backup somewhere), I was feeling like the last straw had been dropped. I started crying in the middle of the hallway as I was walking back to class. All of a sudden everything was too much. I cry silently and I really don't look good when I cry. I wasn't crying hard, though, and two of my friends noticed that something was wrong but not that I was crying. They tried to cheer me up; that did more towards making me smile than their efforts did. But eventually I told them I had to go to class.

In class I lasted a good 5-10 minutes before starting to cry again. This time no one noticed at all. How sad is that? I was ready to kill soemthing or myself, rip, tear, bawl... And no one noticed. That's okay, though. No one ever does. Not when things are seriously wrong.

Class is almost over. I have one period left and it's English. I didn't hand in my last project and I emailed my teacher about it. It's crunch time now, I guess.

On the bright side, I may be going to a movie with Ryan tomorrow. He has my mp3 and he's going to give it back. There are other people that I'd rather be seeing a movie with, but that's not because I don't like Ryan. He's awesome, he really is. I'm glad I'm going to see him: I haven't seen him in a while and I missed him. But... Well, I don't know where I'm going with this but I'm not gonna get into it here.

Later.

MistWeaver

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

(...Is Dead on her Feet)

I have a LOT of stuff to do, and tomorrow I'm going to be out from before 7 30 in the morning and won't be home until well after 10pm. Today was quite busy too, what with the people you introdued and the people who've started Christmas/Honnukah shopping already.
So this is your warning.
I may not post for the next day or two, but hopefully I'll have stuff from the days I missed.
I'm a little (okay, supremelY) tired, so apologies for any typos or unreadable things. I'll fix it if I ever have time.

Monday, November 01, 2004

The NaNo Chronicles: Day 1 or 'How Full I Am'

Unhhhh... I am so utterly full... I haven't been this full in a longgg time...

Needless to say, Day One was good.

I just got back from the NaNo Kickoff at Moxie's. I ate more than I have in weeks! I even had a small (their version of small, anyways) dessert! Not to mention new people and great companionship for several hours. And all for less than 15 bucks!

I love Canada.

That being said, here's how my first day of NaNoWriMo went.

I borrowed my brother's 'Real Men Don't Need Viagra' shirt and wore a long comfy jean skirt my best friend left at my house over the summer. I also wore my funky glasses on their cool librarian chain instead of my contacts. After last week, I'm sick to death of makeup and dressing up. I love Halloween, but there's a limit. Everything has a price, after all.

I wrote this morning while gloating in my new wake-up hour thanks to the time change. I even snuck in a paragraph or two before the announcements (which I film/broadcast every morning with my friend Becca). The bells were being reprogrammed, so we had a little trouble with times, but we still got the national anthem and announcements off fine.

The morning passed quickly, thanks to my crazy (and totally awesome) Social Studies teacher, Mr. Morris. I even managed to finish my french homework in English class. At lunch, I went to Drama Club for all of five minutes before deciding that my time was better spent elsewhere. I ended up in the library, next to some Grade 9s who decided that playing musical computers, instead of fixing the simple problems with each one, would be funny. Luckily, the only other black chick in the school, Bridgette, effectively put an end to it by taking the chair and computer next to me.

Bridgette's pretty quiet, but I like her. At first I was apprehensive because of her clothing choices: designer clothes from head to toe. Being the completely carefree dresser I am, this bugged me. However, I am above judging people by their clothing and looks, and I've discovered that she's quite cool. She spent the lunch hour looking up her old school in Jamaica online. This inspired me to take a break from my furious writing and see if I could find my old french private elementary (shudder) school. Luckily, I couldn't.

I made it through the rest of the day, even finding a monologue to perform tomorrow in Drama Club. We got our report cards *shudder* and got let out early. I took advantage of it to lie on the freezing hard ground (without a coat, of course).

The first round of busses was pulling away when I realized that I hadn't emailed my updated novel to myself. The horror! All that work, wasted! I ran like no tomorrow and managed to email it to myself and still catch my bus, even fitting in a bit of chit chat with this cool chick I met named Mindy.

I came home and wrote. And wrote and wrote and wrote. I kicked the 2300 word mark right as we had to leave for Moxie's. I'm quite proud of what I wrote, actually. I'll create a new page for my novel and leave the link later.

Moxie's rocked. There was about 8 of us there, and we talked, swapped tales and suggestions, ntm horror stories from our past. I actually wrote a little notebook-blog there, that I shall type in tomorrow since I have loads yet to do tonight.

Speaking of the endless loads, I shall have to finish this later. I have to write a skit and make puppets of some kind for tomorrow in French. Yeah, yeah. I know. 30-level Enriched French and I'm lowered to making puppets. But what can I do? Tell your complaints to my teacher.

-MistWeaver

A Quickie Before School

Because of the time change, I'm unnaturally chipper this morning, having slept in an extra hour. Of course, this doesn't mean that I got to bed any earlier or am going to use this to my scholarly advantage: I checked my agenda this morning and it turns out that I have an assignment due in every class. But I have it all worked out: I'll do my Social on the bus, I'll hand in my English tomorrow (I'm wincing at the thought of lowering my mark, but oh well), and I'll do my French homework in English class. As for all my free time, well I'm going to use to work on my NaNoWriMo!

Yes! I have started NaNo! Yesterday I was surfing the net when I realized that it was past midnight and therefore past time to start. My beautiful, amazing Title, Author, and Dedication, as well as the first page, have been completed. Later, at school, I'll post them up. I've decided that in order to survive the next month without murdering my inner editor and burying her VERY deep, I'm going to allow myself to edit a little. However, I'm going to be very strict: Only if I've passed my word quota for the day by at least 500 words, I'm only allowed to erase if I'm going to write more, and I'm to edit only if I'm going to post it in my blog. Hopefully this will even up my word count instead of keeping it down.

Woo hoo! I just updated my word count for the first time and added my first Novel Excerpt to my profile on the NaNoWriMo website! I'm nearly done 1/50th of my novel. Wow, that sounds depressing. I hope I won't be thinking like that all month.

I'm off to school! My bus comes in 15 minutes so I shall go do something useful, like eat.

Latah!

MistWeaver

Sunday, October 31, 2004

Happy Samhain...

Update: I just added links to this blog to sites like popdex and Technorati!

My brother's friends just left. The three of them went out trick or treating while I stayed home and gave out candy. I used to say that you were never too old to go trick or treating and vowed to go out until I was twenty, but last year I got frostbite and next to no candy. My opinion has since then changed.

Actually, my original solution to the temperature and stinginess of the people out here was to go into the city, but my friend's mother changed her mind, and the rest of my friends ditched out on me. Thus, the Snowflake Queen was left at home to give out candy to those brave souls who came out. All four of them.

I kid you not! A full four people!

Luckily, one of my bro's friends likes me and hates most candy. So in exchange for some of the remnants of what I gave out, he gave me all that he didn't like and forever earned a place in my heart. Of course, he was already my favorite of my brother's friends, but that's because he's one of the few with a little maturity and a lot of heart.

On another note.

Tonight is Samhain, the Witches' New Year! Along with mugging the pre-teen boys for candy and preparing for NaNoWriMo, I also performed my Samhain ritual and would have gone down to the river if it weren't for the cougars and bears and coyotes.

Whew. Homework calls. Damn that cursed thing called school. On the other hand, there are certain... people... at school that I dont often see anywhere else. I guess it ain't all that bad ^.^

Until I get tired of schoolwork,
MistWeaver

The Mist-laden NaNo Chronicles: Day -1

Well, it's the day before the big Day 1 and I've decided to start a blog. I have no idea how much I'll be able to use it during the month, since I'm probably gonna be busy writing, but in any case I should be able to get to it at least twice a week.

Since this is my first post, perhaps I should introduce myself for those of you who don't know me.

My name is Sayata Wentiiosta Gabriel, and I'm more commonly known to the world as simply Aya or MistWeaver on the net. I'm half Mohawk Indian and half Barbadian, and I currently live in Alberta, Canada. Chances are you will hear much complaining about that fact.

I'm supposedly average height for my age but I'm short compared to everyone else I know, namely 5'5. As for my age, well I'm somewhere lost in my teenage years. I have liquid-y brown eyes and hair that's naturally brown but currently... um... well it was purple two days ago and today it's brown with white tips.

I'm considered extremely weird, among other things, but I don't care. I love to read and write, especially fantasy, and I tend to speak my mind and be myself no matter what. I'm a practicing Witch, though I don't believe in organised religion. If I were forced to name what I was, the closest thing I'd have say is pagan. Some people also think I have a swearing problem, though I`m gonna try and tone it down for the net.

Okay, enough with the describing.

I'm leaving to go into the city, so I'll be back with more later. I'm doing dick-all for Halloween so I`ll probably post then.

Adieu!