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.
Sunday, November 28, 2004
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
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
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
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
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.
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
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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