What I've been up to
Aug. 19th, 2006 12:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stillaneHi crew.
Been scarce the last week or so, and figured it was time to check in.
Still nothing on the job front - which, you know, at this stage should be assumed to be on the same level of surprising as "The sun rose, and eventually set." I'm giving it one more week, and then it's off to the nearest department store to beg.
On happier notes, I'm currently writing with the windows open to the night sounds and my peppermint candle burning pleasantly next to me. This is a scenario guaranteed to bring me inner peace and glee. All the more so because the candle was one I picked up a while ago in Intercourse - you have to love a state that proudly declares it has both Blue Ball and Climax - which advertises itself with the line, "Turn out the lights and turn on the candles!" (I am twelve. But hey, I'm fun.)
Tried a new haircut which I'm a little enamored with. It's shorter and more... well, girly than what I've done in a while. I have bangs for the first time since elementary school. It has forced me to become friendly with the sister's straightener, but I guess that was inevitable. (There's a reason I leave all stylistic decisions in the hands of the roommate or the sister. They are wise and benevolent fashion gods.)
Spent last evening out with the mom having adventures in Gettysburg. Some acquaintances of hers were in the area for dinner and I tagged along. We wound up doing the ghost tour, which is always neat. (Yes, I've done it more than once. Hush.) Is there anybody who's lived in that area and not come out with their own tale of spookiness? We've got a friend who used to be a park ranger for the battlefield, and he's got some interesting ones.
Am contemplating chucking it all to move down there and make a living telling ghost stories. Seriously, I could do that. I like telling stories. Am also contemplating sending Sam and Dean on the ghost tour; Dean would snicker through it all, and Sam could not resist correcting the guide. Barely resisted correcting the guide myself. This is what happens when you grow up within bus range of the town, and spend many, many school trips exploring the battlefield. (And yes, I can still diagram Pickett's Charge. While explaining its significance to both the battle in question and the overall war. *sigh* The wages of a misspent youth.)
Hmm... what else? Not sure what to make of this birthday thing. I will be a grand and lofty 22 in a week, and I think it will probably pass as unremarkably as my 21st did. (Not to say that it was bad, just quiet. The roommate called to squee with me long distance, and the family bought cake. I have spent much of the last year being good naturedly teased about my wild and crazy ways. *g*) I don't really want to ask for anything from the family, given that I'm pretty much mooching dreadfully these days, and there's nobody really left in the area to hang out with anymore. (Although I'm not entirely above dropping Christopher Moore- and digital camera-shaped hints. I do, however, then feel properly guilty, and therefore cannot be a fully bad person.) It all feels a bit perfunctory this year, but I suppose that's a symptom of getting older.
This has apparently been the week to be contacted by everybody I haven't heard from in a while. A couple friends from school dropped me notes,feartheotter conducted several doomed attempts to say hi, and one of the Wyoming crew emailed. This last made me very fuzzy, since not getting to go out this year has been a sore spot; it's nice to feel like I was missed. (Also, I seem to be collecting individuals named Alex. Weird. How may of you are out there? Thankfully, you are some of my favorite people, so it works out. Confuses the daylights out of my family, though.)
Have decided that I really need to catch up on Psych, just as soon as I find somewhere to snag it. I completely didn't expect to like it, but the pilot hooked me good. It's cruel and unusual to wave something that shiny in front of the cable-less. Cruel and unusual, I tell you.
And I think that concludes the personal stuff.
On happier notes, I'm currently writing with the windows open to the night sounds and my peppermint candle burning pleasantly next to me. This is a scenario guaranteed to bring me inner peace and glee. All the more so because the candle was one I picked up a while ago in Intercourse - you have to love a state that proudly declares it has both Blue Ball and Climax - which advertises itself with the line, "Turn out the lights and turn on the candles!" (I am twelve. But hey, I'm fun.)
Tried a new haircut which I'm a little enamored with. It's shorter and more... well, girly than what I've done in a while. I have bangs for the first time since elementary school. It has forced me to become friendly with the sister's straightener, but I guess that was inevitable. (There's a reason I leave all stylistic decisions in the hands of the roommate or the sister. They are wise and benevolent fashion gods.)
Spent last evening out with the mom having adventures in Gettysburg. Some acquaintances of hers were in the area for dinner and I tagged along. We wound up doing the ghost tour, which is always neat. (Yes, I've done it more than once. Hush.) Is there anybody who's lived in that area and not come out with their own tale of spookiness? We've got a friend who used to be a park ranger for the battlefield, and he's got some interesting ones.
Am contemplating chucking it all to move down there and make a living telling ghost stories. Seriously, I could do that. I like telling stories. Am also contemplating sending Sam and Dean on the ghost tour; Dean would snicker through it all, and Sam could not resist correcting the guide. Barely resisted correcting the guide myself. This is what happens when you grow up within bus range of the town, and spend many, many school trips exploring the battlefield. (And yes, I can still diagram Pickett's Charge. While explaining its significance to both the battle in question and the overall war. *sigh* The wages of a misspent youth.)
Hmm... what else? Not sure what to make of this birthday thing. I will be a grand and lofty 22 in a week, and I think it will probably pass as unremarkably as my 21st did. (Not to say that it was bad, just quiet. The roommate called to squee with me long distance, and the family bought cake. I have spent much of the last year being good naturedly teased about my wild and crazy ways. *g*) I don't really want to ask for anything from the family, given that I'm pretty much mooching dreadfully these days, and there's nobody really left in the area to hang out with anymore. (Although I'm not entirely above dropping Christopher Moore- and digital camera-shaped hints. I do, however, then feel properly guilty, and therefore cannot be a fully bad person.) It all feels a bit perfunctory this year, but I suppose that's a symptom of getting older.
This has apparently been the week to be contacted by everybody I haven't heard from in a while. A couple friends from school dropped me notes,
feartheotter conducted several doomed attempts to say hi, and one of the Wyoming crew emailed. This last made me very fuzzy, since not getting to go out this year has been a sore spot; it's nice to feel like I was missed. (Also, I seem to be collecting individuals named Alex. Weird. How may of you are out there? Thankfully, you are some of my favorite people, so it works out. Confuses the daylights out of my family, though.)Have decided that I really need to catch up on Psych, just as soon as I find somewhere to snag it. I completely didn't expect to like it, but the pilot hooked me good. It's cruel and unusual to wave something that shiny in front of the cable-less. Cruel and unusual, I tell you.
And I think that concludes the personal stuff.
Moving along to writerly things... I'm the last person on Earth to mention it, being the slowpoke that I am, but the Stargate Awards are open for voting. So, you know, go vote; there are some truly kickass things out there to be perused through, and I'm not anywhere close to having gotten through them all. After some shuffling - because I am skilled enough at the art of oops to confuse any sane person - all three of my bits seem to be in the places that suit them best. Of course, this means that I can sit there and blink at the ones that they're up against, and be quietly glowy that someone liked them enough to toss them into such company.
And just for fun: a meme. This one is gakked from
sdraevn, in the hopes that I will be guilted into getting more done by its very presence. If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence (or more) from each of your current work(s) in progress. It should probably be your favourite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
These aren't actually all of them. Yes, I am that far behind. Bad me.
1. From the NCIS one that isn't really whatdocmichelle asked for, and yet is actually done. I can't bring myself to let it go yet, but I think it's intact.
“Ah, Probie. He does me proud.” He’s smiling when he lifts the glass, and not when he lowers it. He’s always been good at telling the truth sideways.
2. From the one foraurora_84.
For years, John changed faces with a speed that Rodney would later come to know as essentially him.
3. From the b2b fic which I swear by all that is holy I am going to finish. Soon. Please let it be soon.
“Shut up. I’m dying, I get the right to be maudlin. Also, mildly pompous. It was in the brochure.”
Despite himself, John smiles faintly. “Far be it for me to stand in the way.”
4. From the one I've been calling Inhibitions, which may or may not end in the very near future. It was supposed to be a birthday ficlet forlaceymcbain, and then it kept growing. It's mostly done, but I need to decide whether it's interesting or just insane. It's a fine line in my world.
At three in the morning on what he figured would be the last Tuesday of his life, John walked Rodney into a closet on the pretense of needing a consultation on defensive technology. When he pulled him close, Rodney didn’t even look surprised. He just leaned forward and grabbed fistfuls of John’s jacket. His hands were shaking, probably from Beckett’s cocktail.
(John’s were, too. He never took the drugs.)
5. From the SPN fic that needs to get done before the new season starts, so that the proper order of Jossing may be observed.
“So... we're not dead. So this isn't being dead. This is being un-dead.” Sam laughs. “Okay, maybe not. I hope not. Dude, I'm too pretty to be a zombie.” Dean kicks Sam's shoe to stop the smirk that's creeping up on him. “Well then, smartass, what is this?”
Sam nods again and turns back to the newspaper. “Exactly.”
6. From the Lorne fic which may or may not ever be complete.
Lorne is a military man, and has been for a long while now. He understands duty, and necessity, and that invention isn’t its only child. Its bastard firstborn is the unpleasant task, and he’s on a first name basis with all three these days.
This is why he’s in Sheppard’s quarters now, slowly dismantling what’s left of a life.
7. From the one that needs some serious filler.
“Sam. No. Sam, no, come on. Don’t do this. Please. Hey, Sammy, hey, look at me here, I –“ The hands close around his windpipe, cut him off instantly. He closes his eyes, not able to watch this happen. He’s dead. He’s dead, and Sam’s dead, and it’s that second fact that’s killing him most. There’s not a damn thing he can do, and he couldn’t even if there were. He waits.
So, yeah, that's the majority of them. It was a little neat to go visit them, really; there are a few I haven't touched in a while. I miss being productive.
1. From the NCIS one that isn't really what
docmichelle asked for, and yet is actually done. I can't bring myself to let it go yet, but I think it's intact. “Ah, Probie. He does me proud.” He’s smiling when he lifts the glass, and not when he lowers it. He’s always been good at telling the truth sideways.
2. From the one for
aurora_84.For years, John changed faces with a speed that Rodney would later come to know as essentially him.
3. From the b2b fic which I swear by all that is holy I am going to finish. Soon. Please let it be soon.
“Shut up. I’m dying, I get the right to be maudlin. Also, mildly pompous. It was in the brochure.”
Despite himself, John smiles faintly. “Far be it for me to stand in the way.”
4. From the one I've been calling Inhibitions, which may or may not end in the very near future. It was supposed to be a birthday ficlet for
laceymcbain, and then it kept growing. It's mostly done, but I need to decide whether it's interesting or just insane. It's a fine line in my world.At three in the morning on what he figured would be the last Tuesday of his life, John walked Rodney into a closet on the pretense of needing a consultation on defensive technology. When he pulled him close, Rodney didn’t even look surprised. He just leaned forward and grabbed fistfuls of John’s jacket. His hands were shaking, probably from Beckett’s cocktail.
(John’s were, too. He never took the drugs.)
5. From the SPN fic that needs to get done before the new season starts, so that the proper order of Jossing may be observed.
“So... we're not dead. So this isn't being dead. This is being un-dead.” Sam laughs. “Okay, maybe not. I hope not. Dude, I'm too pretty to be a zombie.” Dean kicks Sam's shoe to stop the smirk that's creeping up on him. “Well then, smartass, what is this?”
Sam nods again and turns back to the newspaper. “Exactly.”
6. From the Lorne fic which may or may not ever be complete.
Lorne is a military man, and has been for a long while now. He understands duty, and necessity, and that invention isn’t its only child. Its bastard firstborn is the unpleasant task, and he’s on a first name basis with all three these days.
This is why he’s in Sheppard’s quarters now, slowly dismantling what’s left of a life.
7. From the one that needs some serious filler.
“Sam. No. Sam, no, come on. Don’t do this. Please. Hey, Sammy, hey, look at me here, I –“ The hands close around his windpipe, cut him off instantly. He closes his eyes, not able to watch this happen. He’s dead. He’s dead, and Sam’s dead, and it’s that second fact that’s killing him most. There’s not a damn thing he can do, and he couldn’t even if there were. He waits.
So, yeah, that's the majority of them. It was a little neat to go visit them, really; there are a few I haven't touched in a while. I miss being productive.
And there you have the latest on me. How are you all?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 06:18 am (UTC)I've never been one for celebrating birthdays. My 21st (of the long time ago no really when I think about it) was spent with a glass of wine, reading a book. Riveting. :P Bah, I think you should do more as you get older and the birthdays get better and more impressive, but hey. Then again I also hide under the table and run away if anyone so much as tries to wish me a good one. I'll wish it back at them. Logic? Not a strong point.
Oh my God, I would possibly sell my soul and my brother into slavery to get a job telling ghost stories. Really. Or just taking historical tours and telling stories. I'd learn entire languages to get to do that. Go now! Don't stop to contemplate such things as money and proper work. There are stories to be told! *flaps hands* I'd even (pause) do Australian history if it got me a job like that. The world would end.
Wish I could think of a new hair cut to have. *wistful*
Also? *beats up prospective employers for their stupidity* Really, they suck big time and the very thought of job hunting makes me want to rant, rave and throttle people with my bare hands.
:)
*whips you into writing* Go! Write and prosper! Vivi, vidi, vici! Erm, of the writing that is. So many pretty pieces of writing that need the love and the care and to be shown to the world. Do not force me to email hassle you. *wags finger* I will!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 06:42 am (UTC)conquerattackwrite things. Many things. Things the likes of which Caesar never imagined. (Which is strictly true, considering I'm pretty sure a big, shiny city in another galaxy never crossed his mind, as evidenced by there having been no plans drawn up toconquerattackvisit said city.)Dude, I am months behind on the last birthday thing I tried to tackle. The high ground is so distant from me I couldn't find it with a telescope. *g* Plus, I would wait long and gleefully for a picture of my very own. Pretty cannot be rushed, and I'll bop around happily at the very idea.
Employment. Pft, who needs it? *waves hand negligently, and grandly ignores student loans*
Hee. You live on the hobbit birthday plan, where each year gets a bigger shebang to it? (Or the Hugh Heffner plan. Although, come to think of it, he's a little hobbity, too. Like the sleezy hobbit. Bilbo's distant cousin Di... no, I can't do it. The pun hurts.) I like that idea. By the time I'm good and ancient, I want to be blowing things up in bright, sparkly ways.
*files birthday aversion away for future reference* I see stealth tactics are in order. Let the planning commence.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 07:47 am (UTC)sillyshort sighted and narrow minded Caesar was. Then again, if we are going to be technical, we don't know about the shiny city either, or any plans forconqueringvisiting it either. *snerk* Romans on Atlantis.*lashes whip* Beside the point though! Back to the salt mines for you if you fail to heed me :P
Perhaps you are just at sea? Instead of looking for high ground with a telescope you should focus on a bit of navigation. *nod* Eventually you have to wash up ashore somewhere. Pirate hat intact.
Mmm, pretty. Wait hang on. Can't draw that!
*scrubs brain* Not the dread Heffner words. Yeargh. Although that might explain somethings about Bilbo that I always suspected. Especially if he is related to that lecherous hobbitses. However, the general idea is correct. By the time I am 70 odd I think there should be parties going on that need police supervision. Either that or shiny cities in distant galaxies. *nod*
*deletes file* Ha! My brother in his evilness tries to be sneaky but he has been foiled in the past few years. Foiled like a roast chicken.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 07:49 am (UTC)Mm, I am going to find me a Brandy and Dry
no subject
Date: 2006-08-19 10:14 pm (UTC)That somewhat depends on which one you'd enjoy most. *wg*
In re. a proliferation of Alexes: it goes so far as to confuse me too. Try being one of three, all sitting on the same bed, and talking about a fourth. *blinks in confusion*
Happy (slightly early) Birthday... you! Expect a small and modest surprise shortly with regards to that, provided my research skills are up to par on certain details. :x
And on an unrelated note:
Tiny Feet of the Divine Dance of Joyous Orgasm
Beautiful Gate of Heavenly Moisture Number Six
Temptress of the Golden Light of the Harvest Moon
Delicate Personage of Two Fu Dogs Wrestling Under a Blanket
Feminine Keeper of the Three Tunnels of Excessive Friendliness
Silken Pillows of the Heavenly Softness of Clouds
Pea Pods in Duck Sauce with Crispy Noodle
and Sue.
I am now dead, because that killed me.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-20 04:32 am (UTC)On the subject of names: oddly enough, there were three of me in my college graduating class. Spun my brain all kinds of around to suddenly have to wonder if I was the one in question, after so many years of being the one and only. There was even a solo at some point that got credited to one of the other two; we got a kick out of that, since she was studying abroad at the time. New meaning to 'phoning it in'. *g*
A surprise?! Eeee! Now, of course, my parents are totally going to blame you for the wide-eyed curiosity that will keep me pacing around for days. Thank you in advance.
And speaking of details, I need your new ones. It has occurred to me that such knowledge might be useful. *g*
You read it! Hee! Are you finished, or partway through? I'll resist spoilerish comments just in case, but it's just so damn fun. When my day sucks, I go hang with Josh. Dad has won his battle and christened the minimutt Biff. I'm skeptical that he'll ever display the loyalty of ol' Levi, but he's certainly capable of driving the devine to distraction.
And I lied... just one spoiler: beatitudes. *snort* The man is not sane.
*off to cackle gleefully and contemplate surprises*
no subject
Date: 2006-08-20 04:48 am (UTC)Hmm. Three of you, eh? I'll stop my mind from taking THAT to various possibilities *g* But that is kinda unusual - you're the only Lane I've e'er met. Was the third among you female as well, or was it a mixed group (as Alexes tend to be - oh, but that's fun)?
Well, not much of a surprise - and it isn't very surprising either, since you know it's coming now. And I've no idea if it'll actually GET there, as I'm basing its destination on some good ol' online white pages. But I couldn't help but be a tease (*insert a bit of evil cackling on my part as well*), and it's something. :x
I've been reading it all day! Well... most of the day. I haven't finished it yet - the illustrious duo just left Gaspar's mountaintop abode in search of Melchior, while Raziel is just starting to let Biff outside for mysterious reasons. But, as I have very little to do until Monday at about 3:30 MST, I'll probably polish it off tomorrow. (Beatitudes, eh? Hmm.... now THERE's a word I haven't heard in a while).
Off to.... well, nowhere really. 'Cept possibly to make a cup of tea.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-22 06:19 pm (UTC)I nearly choked.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-23 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-23 03:40 am (UTC)Also, come online, you! *guilts*
no subject
Date: 2006-08-29 12:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-01 03:44 am (UTC)The really pathetic thing about 6 is that it's about half written, and has been for months. It's another one of those that needs about five or six scenes yet, but can I get those five or six scenes to behave themselves? Noooooo. Rebellious little bastards.
If it helps, it's pretty much a Lorne's-eye view of what Atlantis is like when Sheppard and co. are in jeopardy... or, actually, in this case, after they seem to be beyond helping. It ought to be big on Lorne adjusting to a role he's never particularly wanted as he repairs what damage he can. Ultimately, I'd like it to work out as something of a mystery, going through Lorne's eyes to piece together these people that he's suddenly getting a much closer look at than is really comfortable, and in doing so letting us get a better picture of him.
(That, and I have this whole midwestern farmkid upbringing for him that will. not. die. With grandparents and possibly an old crop-duster, and a hayloft from which he could almost see enough of the world to keep him there. The man just screams "tractor" to me. That's just me, right? Right. I'll just go stare at the John Deer now.)
So, yeah, that's about it. Someday my prince will come, etc. If I can ever figure out just where those extra bits are hiding, anyway. *checks the hayloft*