Monday, November 25, 2002
The car works! Aw yeah. Turned out to be fairly simple - why jumping it didn't work the first time I don't know, but never mind. It works now. I took my roomate in to get *her* car fixed and then came home and got my credit card account fixed. So all and all, a productive afternoon.
Now if only I'd written my paper.
Back on Brin-L after a bit of a hiatus and arguing for religion. I'd forgotten how much fun it is. Even more fun as I'm an agnostic.
Now if only I'd written my paper.
Back on Brin-L after a bit of a hiatus and arguing for religion. I'd forgotten how much fun it is. Even more fun as I'm an agnostic.
Sunday, November 24, 2002
Dull weekend. Read a little, revised The Novel a little, beat the Polaris thread in EV Nova, avoided my homework, tried and failed to jumpstart my car. I'm going to have to go visit Autoshop tomorrow. Added a hundred links to the Forward Motion Writers' Research Index, earning me the title of God of the Internet Indexer. Still not feeling particularly useful, but better.
I'm still really depressed about the writing, but I came up with something that *might* work. What I need, right now, is to be writing, but not be writing stuff that's so serious that I get depressed when I can't finish it/destroyed when I can't work on it constantly. So I'm going to do a story-blog and promise myself to update it every Sunday. (I can update it more if I want, but Sundays are mandantory.) To keep myself from taking this too seriously, I've used the Random Plot Generator and the Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches to create the basis of the story. I'm calling it Creative Rebellion Incorporated, for reasons which will eventually become clear, especially to me.
I'll have to see how it goes.
I'm still really depressed about the writing, but I came up with something that *might* work. What I need, right now, is to be writing, but not be writing stuff that's so serious that I get depressed when I can't finish it/destroyed when I can't work on it constantly. So I'm going to do a story-blog and promise myself to update it every Sunday. (I can update it more if I want, but Sundays are mandantory.) To keep myself from taking this too seriously, I've used the Random Plot Generator and the Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches to create the basis of the story. I'm calling it Creative Rebellion Incorporated, for reasons which will eventually become clear, especially to me.
I'll have to see how it goes.
Friday, November 22, 2002
Horrible week. Internet's been out for two days; car's still down; too many papers... I want a laser printer for Christmas; it took me an hour to print out my paper on this blasted piece of shit, and as a result the thing was late, and my advisor wants to talk to me, which is never good, and I got another agent rejection in the mail today. Spent all morning crawling around in the mud cleaning out the pig feeder. It was snowing. Since I'd been up till three the night before writing a paper I was even less happy about all this than might be expected.
But classes are over and the weekend is here. I think I'm going to try and write something. I've got to kick this damned depression somehow.
But classes are over and the weekend is here. I think I'm going to try and write something. I've got to kick this damned depression somehow.
Monday, November 18, 2002
Pigs don't like cold. I base this observation on my feeding experience of the morning because - believe me - it was *cold* this morning. Now, normally when I feed the fields I am fighting my way through a knee-deep sea of ravenous pigflesh, but today I dumped the bucket into the trough, went over to the house, and banged on the side shouting "HEY YOU PIGS!"
Hey, *I* had an alarm clock. They were lucky.
Anyway, there was a sort of volcanic eruption followed by a stampede and the pigs got their food. But pigs don't like cold.
I don't like cold either, but there's not a lot I can do about it. On the Better News front, I got my Powells order today. Yay! Of course, only the Tarot cards were mine, the rest were Christmas and birthday presents, but it's still such a wonderful feeling to open a box of books. The Tarot cards I justified by saying that a) I needed a standard Waite deck as research for my Tarot-reader-character Merion b) they were on sale and c) I needed ten bucks to make it past the Powells $50-gets-you-free-shipping point. I conveniently forgot to mention d), I really like Tarot and felt I could spend a happy afternoon wasting time messing around with the cards, but it was true. Now I need to go find somebody to do a reading on. It's very true, I think, that the Waite deck is more "powerful" than most Tarot decks; sounds silly, but whilst other decks have impressed me with the prettiness or skillfulness of the artwork, there are some cards in this deck - simple as they are - whick make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It's... odd. But that's all right. I like odd.
Hey, *I* had an alarm clock. They were lucky.
Anyway, there was a sort of volcanic eruption followed by a stampede and the pigs got their food. But pigs don't like cold.
I don't like cold either, but there's not a lot I can do about it. On the Better News front, I got my Powells order today. Yay! Of course, only the Tarot cards were mine, the rest were Christmas and birthday presents, but it's still such a wonderful feeling to open a box of books. The Tarot cards I justified by saying that a) I needed a standard Waite deck as research for my Tarot-reader-character Merion b) they were on sale and c) I needed ten bucks to make it past the Powells $50-gets-you-free-shipping point. I conveniently forgot to mention d), I really like Tarot and felt I could spend a happy afternoon wasting time messing around with the cards, but it was true. Now I need to go find somebody to do a reading on. It's very true, I think, that the Waite deck is more "powerful" than most Tarot decks; sounds silly, but whilst other decks have impressed me with the prettiness or skillfulness of the artwork, there are some cards in this deck - simple as they are - whick make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It's... odd. But that's all right. I like odd.
Sunday, November 17, 2002
Right. I'm back. Sort of.
Novel came back from DAW. Subsequently has come back from five of the six agents I queried. I queried one more last week and I have three more to go out today; given time, they'll reject me too.
It's hard not to be depressed about this, but I'm working on it. Actually, I'm more depressed that my schemes to write the second one have come to naught. It's not a lack of inspiration, it's just a lack of time. School is really kicking my ass this semester, and I can't *wait* for it to be over.
Well, now that the bad news is out of the way... *must* keep this thing up, dammit!
Novel came back from DAW. Subsequently has come back from five of the six agents I queried. I queried one more last week and I have three more to go out today; given time, they'll reject me too.
It's hard not to be depressed about this, but I'm working on it. Actually, I'm more depressed that my schemes to write the second one have come to naught. It's not a lack of inspiration, it's just a lack of time. School is really kicking my ass this semester, and I can't *wait* for it to be over.
Well, now that the bad news is out of the way... *must* keep this thing up, dammit!
Ah, gods.
Called a friend of mine this afternoon and he ANSWERED! Okay, yes, I'm pitiful. But not that pitiful. This guy really doesn't answer his phone, as I pointed out to him when the shock wore off enough for me to speak.
"I do too," he said defensively. Pause. "I answered once before, remember?"
Yes, once. He's phonaphobic. But he *did* answer and I had a nice talk about the intentionality and empathy the average animal is able to display to the world and appalachian music. More or less in that order. Yippee!
Rest of the afternoon not so good. I discovered that I'd left the car lights on after yesterday's tissues-and-postage-stamps run. Dead as a doornail. Then I went to the library to check out the book I need to be reading for tomorrow's class and discovered that, due to a library employee handing me something that I thought was a three-day reserve but was actually a three-hour reserve, I had an eighteen dollar fine, which I could not pay and cannot get the money to pay as there aren't any ATMs on campus and I can't leave due to the car battery being dead. Bah. I read the book sitting in the library and in very low spirits.
It's been a rough couple of months. I don't know. A heavy acedemic load plus a heavy workload plus a very tight budget - not terrible, not really tragic, just enough to make me count my change and be so very aware of this ten or that two dollar purchase - constant struggles with the administration over the details of graduation, turning in papers late in spite of myself and then having to be ashamed to face my professors, *several* run-ins with the library, at least one of which hasn't been my fault, not being able to write because I haven't time and then feeling guilty because I'm not writing, the continual stream of rejection slips... it's stressful, and the worst of it is that it's such petty, *silly* stress. I feel like a damned fool getting upset over it, or worse yet, trying to talk to anybody about it. No, that's not the worst of it. The *worst* of it is that the stressload has made me loose my sense of equilibrium. I was ridiculously happy - bouncing-off-the-walls-happy - about getting hold of my friend this afternoon, which was nice, but useless as I didn't have anyone to be happy with or anything to do while I was happy except bounce around aimlessly; and then I had to fight to keep from crying all over the librarian over the silly fine, which was *horribly* embarrassing (I do *not* cry in public) and stupid besides. It's not important. It's annoying, but it is not worth a single tear, much less an abject depression.
I liked equilibrium. I want it back.
Ah well. Tomorrow's another day, and it's sleeting, so I may as well get as much sleep as I can to prepare for it.
Called a friend of mine this afternoon and he ANSWERED! Okay, yes, I'm pitiful. But not that pitiful. This guy really doesn't answer his phone, as I pointed out to him when the shock wore off enough for me to speak.
"I do too," he said defensively. Pause. "I answered once before, remember?"
Yes, once. He's phonaphobic. But he *did* answer and I had a nice talk about the intentionality and empathy the average animal is able to display to the world and appalachian music. More or less in that order. Yippee!
Rest of the afternoon not so good. I discovered that I'd left the car lights on after yesterday's tissues-and-postage-stamps run. Dead as a doornail. Then I went to the library to check out the book I need to be reading for tomorrow's class and discovered that, due to a library employee handing me something that I thought was a three-day reserve but was actually a three-hour reserve, I had an eighteen dollar fine, which I could not pay and cannot get the money to pay as there aren't any ATMs on campus and I can't leave due to the car battery being dead. Bah. I read the book sitting in the library and in very low spirits.
It's been a rough couple of months. I don't know. A heavy acedemic load plus a heavy workload plus a very tight budget - not terrible, not really tragic, just enough to make me count my change and be so very aware of this ten or that two dollar purchase - constant struggles with the administration over the details of graduation, turning in papers late in spite of myself and then having to be ashamed to face my professors, *several* run-ins with the library, at least one of which hasn't been my fault, not being able to write because I haven't time and then feeling guilty because I'm not writing, the continual stream of rejection slips... it's stressful, and the worst of it is that it's such petty, *silly* stress. I feel like a damned fool getting upset over it, or worse yet, trying to talk to anybody about it. No, that's not the worst of it. The *worst* of it is that the stressload has made me loose my sense of equilibrium. I was ridiculously happy - bouncing-off-the-walls-happy - about getting hold of my friend this afternoon, which was nice, but useless as I didn't have anyone to be happy with or anything to do while I was happy except bounce around aimlessly; and then I had to fight to keep from crying all over the librarian over the silly fine, which was *horribly* embarrassing (I do *not* cry in public) and stupid besides. It's not important. It's annoying, but it is not worth a single tear, much less an abject depression.
I liked equilibrium. I want it back.
Ah well. Tomorrow's another day, and it's sleeting, so I may as well get as much sleep as I can to prepare for it.
