Weaver: HA! Take that you stupid comment spammers! I enabled word-verification service. Thank you, Blogger help. That means that only real people can post from now on: you have to do the 'copy the word in the box' test now, which stops the automated services. I've never been so happy for that little word box. I'll never complain about it again. The mists are once again as pure as they ever get.
Voice: I see that you also deleted the comments from before. I feel much cleaner, thanks.
MistWeaver: You're welcome. The mists have too much spam already. And now, to leave them to go back to the real world. I'm hungry, and my father's in the kitchen, I think. He's lost in his own mists, and the voices that talk to him there aren't nearly so nice...
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Stupid Comments Again
MistWeaver: Okay, I give up. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU STOP STUPID PEOPLE POSTING STUPID COMMENTS THAT ARE STUPID ADDS AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU DELETE THEM?!?
Voice: Woah, calm down. I honestly don't know. ALthough I'd really appreciat it if you found out.
Weaver: Dammit. Calm down. Calmmm. Downnnn. Woooooo. Okay. I'm calm. I'll try to find out. Talk to you later.
The Mists slowly close around her, not quite enveloping her form as the anger dissipates anything that gets too close. Swirling faster and faster, the Weaver disappears.
Voice: Woah, calm down. I honestly don't know. ALthough I'd really appreciat it if you found out.
Weaver: Dammit. Calm down. Calmmm. Downnnn. Woooooo. Okay. I'm calm. I'll try to find out. Talk to you later.
The Mists slowly close around her, not quite enveloping her form as the anger dissipates anything that gets too close. Swirling faster and faster, the Weaver disappears.
Back to School and to the Dogs
MistWeaver: Aye yi yi. Can you believe there are only a few short days until school starts?
Voice in the Mist: Considering I've been to school... Yes.
Weaver: I've been going to school for many years now, and have decided somewhere along the line that back-to-school should be a fun time.
Voice: That makes sense. If you dread it all the time, all that you'll accomplish is making a necessary event miserable for yourself.
Weaver: Well... yeah. There's that. There's also the fact that back-to-school means school supplies, which means pens and pencils and notebooks and stationary!!!
Voice: I don't think I've ever heard anyone get so excited over school supplies.
Weaver: Is it really my fault that I love pens? And staples and post-its and notebooks and binders and other such things too, of course.
Voice: I suppose you blame it on the fact that you're a writer, don't you?
Weaver: I suppose you stole my line.
Voice: I was sick of you saying it.
Weaver: Actually, I blame it on Pamela. She's to blame for everything. A kind of universal scapegoat. But the fact that I"m a writer probably had something to do with, too. Ever since I can remember, Staples has been my favorite store. I just love the aisles of business supplies. I especially love black pens and purple pens, with as fine a tip as is possible to get. Perfect for my small writing.
Voice: Wow. You're actually scaring me slightly, and I'm mist. I don't scare easily.
Weaver: Wow. That's amazing. But for your sake I'll move on to different things. Like where I am now.
Voice: On a beach somewhere hiding from the beginning of school?
Weaver: I wish.
Voice: On your computer.
Weaver: Oh, my, god. However did you guess that?
Voice: And the fact that you're typing onto the internet had abosolutely nothing to do with my conclusion.
Weaver: You're stealing my lines again.
Voice: So sorry. So, where are you typing on your computer. That's the question.
Weaver: Well, I set up another hammock (that makes 4 of them) in a spot in the shade and have been finalizing edits on Broken Wings. I'm on page 83 of 161 and determined to finish before school starts.
Voice: So why aren't you doing that now?
Weaver: I've been working on it for quite a while now, and I'm taking a break to write other things, like my blog. Unfortunately, my nails are now so long that it's getting harder and harder to type quickly. I'm probably going to go file them down afterwards, just for simplicity's sake.
Voice: Why didn't you do that before?
Weaver: Probably because I adore having long nails, and mine are gorgeous. I haven't had my file, though and they haven't been taken as good care of as I might have done if I did. They're going to break soon, if I don't do something. Also, there's the dog to think of.
Voice: The dog? What has that got to do with anything?
Weaver: Yes, the dog. Whiskey, my absolutely gorgeous (and tiny) mini-daschund. She's lying on top of me, curled into my breasts and fast asleep. Whoops. So much for fast asleep: she just kinda woke up from some noise and is giving her cute little sleepy barks at something, but unwilling to actually move.
Voice: A small dog must have an annoying yip.
Weaver: Actually, she's got a bark deeper than a lot of big dogs. And she's using it on that annoying Murdoch from across the street. A slightly bigger foofy dog who likes to pee on Leroy's head. And Leroy, mature terrier that he is, turns around and pees on Murdoch's head right back.
Voice: I believe I speak for many voices all over the palce when I say 'ew'.
Weaver: Oh, well. Nothing to be done about it. Murdoch just wandered off again.
Voice: Is that the same dog that pees on your newspapers?
Weaver: One and the same. And on that lovely note, I'll be back later. I must... take care... of a little problem.
Voice: Just remember that killing dogs is bad karma.
Voice: MistWeaver?
Voice in the Mist: Considering I've been to school... Yes.
Weaver: I've been going to school for many years now, and have decided somewhere along the line that back-to-school should be a fun time.
Voice: That makes sense. If you dread it all the time, all that you'll accomplish is making a necessary event miserable for yourself.
Weaver: Well... yeah. There's that. There's also the fact that back-to-school means school supplies, which means pens and pencils and notebooks and stationary!!!
Voice: I don't think I've ever heard anyone get so excited over school supplies.
Weaver: Is it really my fault that I love pens? And staples and post-its and notebooks and binders and other such things too, of course.
Voice: I suppose you blame it on the fact that you're a writer, don't you?
Weaver: I suppose you stole my line.
Voice: I was sick of you saying it.
Weaver: Actually, I blame it on Pamela. She's to blame for everything. A kind of universal scapegoat. But the fact that I"m a writer probably had something to do with, too. Ever since I can remember, Staples has been my favorite store. I just love the aisles of business supplies. I especially love black pens and purple pens, with as fine a tip as is possible to get. Perfect for my small writing.
Voice: Wow. You're actually scaring me slightly, and I'm mist. I don't scare easily.
Weaver: Wow. That's amazing. But for your sake I'll move on to different things. Like where I am now.
Voice: On a beach somewhere hiding from the beginning of school?
Weaver: I wish.
Voice: On your computer.
Weaver: Oh, my, god. However did you guess that?
Voice: And the fact that you're typing onto the internet had abosolutely nothing to do with my conclusion.
Weaver: You're stealing my lines again.
Voice: So sorry. So, where are you typing on your computer. That's the question.
Weaver: Well, I set up another hammock (that makes 4 of them) in a spot in the shade and have been finalizing edits on Broken Wings. I'm on page 83 of 161 and determined to finish before school starts.
Voice: So why aren't you doing that now?
Weaver: I've been working on it for quite a while now, and I'm taking a break to write other things, like my blog. Unfortunately, my nails are now so long that it's getting harder and harder to type quickly. I'm probably going to go file them down afterwards, just for simplicity's sake.
Voice: Why didn't you do that before?
Weaver: Probably because I adore having long nails, and mine are gorgeous. I haven't had my file, though and they haven't been taken as good care of as I might have done if I did. They're going to break soon, if I don't do something. Also, there's the dog to think of.
Voice: The dog? What has that got to do with anything?
Weaver: Yes, the dog. Whiskey, my absolutely gorgeous (and tiny) mini-daschund. She's lying on top of me, curled into my breasts and fast asleep. Whoops. So much for fast asleep: she just kinda woke up from some noise and is giving her cute little sleepy barks at something, but unwilling to actually move.
Voice: A small dog must have an annoying yip.
Weaver: Actually, she's got a bark deeper than a lot of big dogs. And she's using it on that annoying Murdoch from across the street. A slightly bigger foofy dog who likes to pee on Leroy's head. And Leroy, mature terrier that he is, turns around and pees on Murdoch's head right back.
Voice: I believe I speak for many voices all over the palce when I say 'ew'.
Weaver: Oh, well. Nothing to be done about it. Murdoch just wandered off again.
Voice: Is that the same dog that pees on your newspapers?
Weaver: One and the same. And on that lovely note, I'll be back later. I must... take care... of a little problem.
Voice: Just remember that killing dogs is bad karma.
Voice: MistWeaver?
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Irritation and Fun and Tiredness
MistWeaver: Man, am I exhausted.
Voice In The Mist: Why's that?
Weaver: I volunteered at the Calgary International Reggae Festival from about 10 AM this morning to 8 30 PM. Was forced to stay until 11. Didn't get home until 12. It is now 12:19, and I'm exhausted. I hate waking up early.
Voice: Indeed. So, was it worth it?
Weaver: Fuck yeah! I had a fine time. A boring time, most of the time, but a fine time.
Voice: Why boring?
Weaver: Since I was the youngest person selling tickets (and the latest, thanks to Fil), I got the fun job of putting bracelet wristband things on people so that they can go in and out. How fun! Not. The most irritating and boring job ever. I like working a till. It's fun. I don't like ripping backs off of bracelets and putting them on people. At least later I did security: put on sunglasses, look menacing, and occasionally chase someone away from area I'm guarding. Still. It's still monotonous and grunt work.
Voice: You do grunt work for Brian.
Weaver: He pays me. And his work is not monotonous and boring. It requires skin.
Voice: Skin?
Weaver: Er... Skill.
Voice: I hope that's what you meant. So what's the 'fun' part?
Weaver: Well, you know how I couldn't write because there was no computer with which to do it?
Voice: Yes...
Weaver: And you know how I really needed a laptop to write on?
Voice: Yes...
Weaver: Wellmamaagreesandshegotmeandkaiandherselfalllaptops.
Voice: What?
Weaver: I have a laptop now. An Acer TravelMate. Gorgeous. Silver, named Lurreal.
Voice: Wow. Congrats.
Weaver: Yes. I just had to share my joy with you. Oh, and there's another thing I'd like to share joy on.
Voice: Let me guess. You finished your book now that you have Lurreal and it's been puclished and is on the New York Times bestseller list.
Weaver: No. I wish. But my book has sold its first international copy, before it's even been finished!
Voice: Wow. That's big. Where? America?
Weaver: We're in America. North America. But no, not the USA. Egypt, of all places. My friend Mindi, who used to live there, sent a copy to Egypt, I'm assuming. And I hope that Donna, who posted a comment on mistynano2004.blogspot.com this morning, doesn't mind the sharing of the joy, because here's the email:
Aya,
Right now in Egypt there is a girl holding in her hands a copy of your book 'Broken Wings'. That girl is me.
Mindi Thurmon sent it to me. She told me you wrote this and along with it told me she thought it was amzing the way you followed your dreams and managed to write a book when so many other kids start, but never finish, or dream to, but dont even start.
Now all I can say is that I agree with her, because it really is amazing. And its inspiring. You are such a talented writer, dont ever stop writing. But I dont even need to say that, because what i know of you has showed me you seem like a person who will never give up on something she loves.
When I read 'about the author' and read your motto, it helped me to realize what makes my life beautiful. Its Mindi. And you know why? Because she is my life, and she is nothing less than beautiful. Now that she is coming home, I wont ever take that for granted.
donna
~*~
Voice: Wow. And that copy of the book wasn't even finished?
Weaver: Yup. I wish my blog didn't have an anonymity-ifier on the comments. I'd email her back and thank her, ask her for her address so that I could send her a copy when I'm finished. She really made my week with that email. Donna, if you read this, thanks! Also, if you don't feel comfortable with me posting your email, tell me and I'll take it off.
Voice: Thoughtful of you.
Weaver: Well, it's her email. And I agree: Mindi truly is a beautiful person. I hope for my own selfish sake that she isn't moving back to Egypt as Donna implied, because I'd miss her tons. Unfortunately, I haven't talked to Mindi since around the end of the school year, at my birthday party.
Voice: One day, you'll have to tell me more about this famous birthday party of yours.
Weaver: I will. However, it won't be tonight. I'm pooped. It's almost one, and I need to dig out my contacts from my eyes and sleep for several days. Too bad I have no sense of time. I may sleep for only an hour instead and not know.
Voice: You'd know all right. You'd still be unbelievably exhausted and you'd snap at anyone nearby.
Weaver: True. But I'll try my luck. G'night.
Voice: Good night. I hope you're here to stay this time. It's good to have you back.
Voice In The Mist: Why's that?
Weaver: I volunteered at the Calgary International Reggae Festival from about 10 AM this morning to 8 30 PM. Was forced to stay until 11. Didn't get home until 12. It is now 12:19, and I'm exhausted. I hate waking up early.
Voice: Indeed. So, was it worth it?
Weaver: Fuck yeah! I had a fine time. A boring time, most of the time, but a fine time.
Voice: Why boring?
Weaver: Since I was the youngest person selling tickets (and the latest, thanks to Fil), I got the fun job of putting bracelet wristband things on people so that they can go in and out. How fun! Not. The most irritating and boring job ever. I like working a till. It's fun. I don't like ripping backs off of bracelets and putting them on people. At least later I did security: put on sunglasses, look menacing, and occasionally chase someone away from area I'm guarding. Still. It's still monotonous and grunt work.
Voice: You do grunt work for Brian.
Weaver: He pays me. And his work is not monotonous and boring. It requires skin.
Voice: Skin?
Weaver: Er... Skill.
Voice: I hope that's what you meant. So what's the 'fun' part?
Weaver: Well, you know how I couldn't write because there was no computer with which to do it?
Voice: Yes...
Weaver: And you know how I really needed a laptop to write on?
Voice: Yes...
Weaver: Wellmamaagreesandshegotmeandkaiandherselfalllaptops.
Voice: What?
Weaver: I have a laptop now. An Acer TravelMate. Gorgeous. Silver, named Lurreal.
Voice: Wow. Congrats.
Weaver: Yes. I just had to share my joy with you. Oh, and there's another thing I'd like to share joy on.
Voice: Let me guess. You finished your book now that you have Lurreal and it's been puclished and is on the New York Times bestseller list.
Weaver: No. I wish. But my book has sold its first international copy, before it's even been finished!
Voice: Wow. That's big. Where? America?
Weaver: We're in America. North America. But no, not the USA. Egypt, of all places. My friend Mindi, who used to live there, sent a copy to Egypt, I'm assuming. And I hope that Donna, who posted a comment on mistynano2004.blogspot.com this morning, doesn't mind the sharing of the joy, because here's the email:
Aya,
Right now in Egypt there is a girl holding in her hands a copy of your book 'Broken Wings'. That girl is me.
Mindi Thurmon sent it to me. She told me you wrote this and along with it told me she thought it was amzing the way you followed your dreams and managed to write a book when so many other kids start, but never finish, or dream to, but dont even start.
Now all I can say is that I agree with her, because it really is amazing. And its inspiring. You are such a talented writer, dont ever stop writing. But I dont even need to say that, because what i know of you has showed me you seem like a person who will never give up on something she loves.
When I read 'about the author' and read your motto, it helped me to realize what makes my life beautiful. Its Mindi. And you know why? Because she is my life, and she is nothing less than beautiful. Now that she is coming home, I wont ever take that for granted.
donna
~*~
Voice: Wow. And that copy of the book wasn't even finished?
Weaver: Yup. I wish my blog didn't have an anonymity-ifier on the comments. I'd email her back and thank her, ask her for her address so that I could send her a copy when I'm finished. She really made my week with that email. Donna, if you read this, thanks! Also, if you don't feel comfortable with me posting your email, tell me and I'll take it off.
Voice: Thoughtful of you.
Weaver: Well, it's her email. And I agree: Mindi truly is a beautiful person. I hope for my own selfish sake that she isn't moving back to Egypt as Donna implied, because I'd miss her tons. Unfortunately, I haven't talked to Mindi since around the end of the school year, at my birthday party.
Voice: One day, you'll have to tell me more about this famous birthday party of yours.
Weaver: I will. However, it won't be tonight. I'm pooped. It's almost one, and I need to dig out my contacts from my eyes and sleep for several days. Too bad I have no sense of time. I may sleep for only an hour instead and not know.
Voice: You'd know all right. You'd still be unbelievably exhausted and you'd snap at anyone nearby.
Weaver: True. But I'll try my luck. G'night.
Voice: Good night. I hope you're here to stay this time. It's good to have you back.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Stupid Comments
Voice In The Mist: Now, it's one thing for you to ignore me. It's another thing to allow random users to post spam in my personal space. And it's been there for almost a day so far! Why haven't you removed it?
MistWeaver: To be honest, I don't know how. I swear to you, the exact moment I saw what had been so rudely put up, I tried. But for some reason, the power to edit and delete comments is not easily available to me. I'll look it up sometime soon when it's not one o'clock in the morning and I'm not extremely tired.
Voice: *sigh* I guess I'll have to settle for that. Good night, then.
Weaver: Good night.
Oh, and I haven't forgotten you. I think of you all the time.
MistWeaver leaves at this point. But in so doing, she misses the soft swirling of the darkened mists and the faint outline of a smile that appears in the gloom.
MistWeaver: To be honest, I don't know how. I swear to you, the exact moment I saw what had been so rudely put up, I tried. But for some reason, the power to edit and delete comments is not easily available to me. I'll look it up sometime soon when it's not one o'clock in the morning and I'm not extremely tired.
Voice: *sigh* I guess I'll have to settle for that. Good night, then.
Weaver: Good night.
Oh, and I haven't forgotten you. I think of you all the time.
MistWeaver leaves at this point. But in so doing, she misses the soft swirling of the darkened mists and the faint outline of a smile that appears in the gloom.
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