Saturday, June 11
*yawn*
Woohoo! We went to Wonderland yesterday! And, um, got back at midnight. Tired Kat. More tired Dan, who had to work at 8 am. Poor Dan.
The trip did not start off well. It was a University event, which meant we could take a bus, but unfortunately it also meant we were saddled by the event planners who thought we needed entertaining. Now, my idea of a really good bus or car ride is one where I sit quietly for an hour or two, staring out the window, lost in my own thoughts. And even when I'm not trapped in a bus I despise party games and team-building; it has pretty much the reverse effect on me, so that I pull farther and farther away from the group in a combination of contact embarrassment and a desire not to be associated with these idiots, whoever they are. Being stuck in a position where I can't run away (in the front of the bus, no less) while people I don't know demand I name the celebrity I want to sleep with and try to make me shout idiotic cheers is pretty much one of my personal hells.
To give the guys on the bus credit, the majority of the bus seemed to really enjoy the whole thing; even Dan probably would have had fun if I hadn't been trying to crawl under him and hide. The alienated introvert sitting in front was not their fault. To add to the misery of the whole thing, it is now more obvious to me than ever that I am not a college student any more. Dan and I had a good five years on most of the bus and it showed. I shared no interests with any of them, I had no desire to engage in conversation with them, and the overherd conversations made me pray fervently that I'd never been such an airhead as this. They wouldn't have been my crowd even in school, but my tolerance has markedly decreased. It was a gift from the gods when we got to the park and could escape them.
After that the day had nowhere to go but up, and it went very up - with me screaming the whole way, usually. We met up with a very cool friend of Dan's about an hour in; she and I bonded instantly over how horrible the bus ride was and continued to bond over what a fucking thrill-happy manic Dan was. This mostly took the form of us sitting behind him and threatening him with death for getting us onto this crazy machine while he laughed and the damn thing kept climbing - I still think the climb is the worst part of rollercoasters; so much time to anticipate the drop. I enjoyed all but one of the rides, in the end, though I chickened out at the last minute on the Drop Zone. Sorry, hon. Being dropped from a large height is just not my thing.
So we had fun, and the lines were much shorter - especially at around 9 pm or so, when we were able to climb right on several rides. And the bus ride back was mostly impromptu karaoke and not too bad. It was a good day.
Of course, I got no work done save for a short paragraph scribbled while we waited for the bus, so these stats are for Thursday:
Revision Progress: 88 pages (of 337)
Changes: Rewrote a conversation so that it was less "the story needed this" and more real; this ended up taking quite some time. Sneaking realizations are harder to write than they look. Deleted the rest of the scene, decided that salvage from the last chapter didn't work here after all, and wrote a short "Joey is polite in a way that comes back and bites her in the ass" scene instead, hopefully in a way that fleshes out her commander, a character I've had complaints about.
Up Next: Finish off the above scene in a way that still incorporates the reference to Big Bad Organization; revise a chunk of salvage, and then block out the medical expo scene I intend it to lead into.
Woohoo! We went to Wonderland yesterday! And, um, got back at midnight. Tired Kat. More tired Dan, who had to work at 8 am. Poor Dan.
The trip did not start off well. It was a University event, which meant we could take a bus, but unfortunately it also meant we were saddled by the event planners who thought we needed entertaining. Now, my idea of a really good bus or car ride is one where I sit quietly for an hour or two, staring out the window, lost in my own thoughts. And even when I'm not trapped in a bus I despise party games and team-building; it has pretty much the reverse effect on me, so that I pull farther and farther away from the group in a combination of contact embarrassment and a desire not to be associated with these idiots, whoever they are. Being stuck in a position where I can't run away (in the front of the bus, no less) while people I don't know demand I name the celebrity I want to sleep with and try to make me shout idiotic cheers is pretty much one of my personal hells.
To give the guys on the bus credit, the majority of the bus seemed to really enjoy the whole thing; even Dan probably would have had fun if I hadn't been trying to crawl under him and hide. The alienated introvert sitting in front was not their fault. To add to the misery of the whole thing, it is now more obvious to me than ever that I am not a college student any more. Dan and I had a good five years on most of the bus and it showed. I shared no interests with any of them, I had no desire to engage in conversation with them, and the overherd conversations made me pray fervently that I'd never been such an airhead as this. They wouldn't have been my crowd even in school, but my tolerance has markedly decreased. It was a gift from the gods when we got to the park and could escape them.
After that the day had nowhere to go but up, and it went very up - with me screaming the whole way, usually. We met up with a very cool friend of Dan's about an hour in; she and I bonded instantly over how horrible the bus ride was and continued to bond over what a fucking thrill-happy manic Dan was. This mostly took the form of us sitting behind him and threatening him with death for getting us onto this crazy machine while he laughed and the damn thing kept climbing - I still think the climb is the worst part of rollercoasters; so much time to anticipate the drop. I enjoyed all but one of the rides, in the end, though I chickened out at the last minute on the Drop Zone. Sorry, hon. Being dropped from a large height is just not my thing.
So we had fun, and the lines were much shorter - especially at around 9 pm or so, when we were able to climb right on several rides. And the bus ride back was mostly impromptu karaoke and not too bad. It was a good day.
Of course, I got no work done save for a short paragraph scribbled while we waited for the bus, so these stats are for Thursday:
Revision Progress: 88 pages (of 337)
Changes: Rewrote a conversation so that it was less "the story needed this" and more real; this ended up taking quite some time. Sneaking realizations are harder to write than they look. Deleted the rest of the scene, decided that salvage from the last chapter didn't work here after all, and wrote a short "Joey is polite in a way that comes back and bites her in the ass" scene instead, hopefully in a way that fleshes out her commander, a character I've had complaints about.
Up Next: Finish off the above scene in a way that still incorporates the reference to Big Bad Organization; revise a chunk of salvage, and then block out the medical expo scene I intend it to lead into.
Sunday, June 05
My mother sent me a package of stuff I'd forgotten, and (wise in the ways of the border) she clearly marked it as "personal belongings".
Not clearly enough, it seems.
When I got my package it was swathed in COD markings and enough tape to seal shut heaven, and several mysterious bits of paper had been added. The thought process that occurred, I deduce from these bits of paper, went something like this:
a) This box does not contain personal items. That would be Too Easy.
b) We're not quite sure what this box does contain.
c) After some head-scratching we decide that one item is a "bag" (it was a tank top) and another is a "folder" (it was my diploma). We will write them down as such and mark them confusingly as "kit". We will ignore the largest and most valuable item in the box, a digital kitchen scale, presumably because it has "SCALE" written on the side and even we would feel embarrassed muffing that.
d) The final item confuses us deeply. It is a flat silicone rectangle. It has "Silpat" written on it, so we write it down as a "Silpat".
e) It also has "Made in France" written on it, so we decide the entire package came from France, rather than (as the shipping label states) Virginia.
f) We examine the box and discover that it bears markings from a company billed as "The Dairy and Food Experts". Ah-hah! Clearly, this mysterious "Silpat" is a piece of commercial dairy equipment, and we mark it down as such. What earthly use would a dairy have for a no-stick pastry mat? Why would "The Dairy and Food Experts" also send a "bag", a "folder", and a digital scale, not to mention bits of personal mail? These are not questions we bother ourselves with (although considering the "France" train of logic, I shouldn't be surprised.)
g) We decide the "dairy equipment" is worth $80, because this seems a sensible price for a $15 piece of silicone. We attach bits of paper saying to charge the receiver much money for importing expensive dairy equipment from France and send the box on its merry way.
... I should be grateful it got here at all, under the circumstances. But y'know, I'm not.
Revision Progress: 43 pages (of 337)
Changes: Discovered that the transition between conversations actually worked better without the lead-in. Hooray! Replaced two paragraphs of Joey vaguely describing her fighter pilot experience with two paragraphs of Joey describing her fighter pilot experience. Note lack of "vaguely". Replaced a sentence that's been bugging me since I wrote it. Added a scene describing the first set of peace talks and how horribly wrong they went.
Up Next: Some backtracking: I have, yet again, miffed the description and need to go back and add sounds and textures. Tightening and fact-checking on the first encounter with the spacers.
Not clearly enough, it seems.
When I got my package it was swathed in COD markings and enough tape to seal shut heaven, and several mysterious bits of paper had been added. The thought process that occurred, I deduce from these bits of paper, went something like this:
a) This box does not contain personal items. That would be Too Easy.
b) We're not quite sure what this box does contain.
c) After some head-scratching we decide that one item is a "bag" (it was a tank top) and another is a "folder" (it was my diploma). We will write them down as such and mark them confusingly as "kit". We will ignore the largest and most valuable item in the box, a digital kitchen scale, presumably because it has "SCALE" written on the side and even we would feel embarrassed muffing that.
d) The final item confuses us deeply. It is a flat silicone rectangle. It has "Silpat" written on it, so we write it down as a "Silpat".
e) It also has "Made in France" written on it, so we decide the entire package came from France, rather than (as the shipping label states) Virginia.
f) We examine the box and discover that it bears markings from a company billed as "The Dairy and Food Experts". Ah-hah! Clearly, this mysterious "Silpat" is a piece of commercial dairy equipment, and we mark it down as such. What earthly use would a dairy have for a no-stick pastry mat? Why would "The Dairy and Food Experts" also send a "bag", a "folder", and a digital scale, not to mention bits of personal mail? These are not questions we bother ourselves with (although considering the "France" train of logic, I shouldn't be surprised.)
g) We decide the "dairy equipment" is worth $80, because this seems a sensible price for a $15 piece of silicone. We attach bits of paper saying to charge the receiver much money for importing expensive dairy equipment from France and send the box on its merry way.
... I should be grateful it got here at all, under the circumstances. But y'know, I'm not.
Revision Progress: 43 pages (of 337)
Changes: Discovered that the transition between conversations actually worked better without the lead-in. Hooray! Replaced two paragraphs of Joey vaguely describing her fighter pilot experience with two paragraphs of Joey describing her fighter pilot experience. Note lack of "vaguely". Replaced a sentence that's been bugging me since I wrote it. Added a scene describing the first set of peace talks and how horribly wrong they went.
Up Next: Some backtracking: I have, yet again, miffed the description and need to go back and add sounds and textures. Tightening and fact-checking on the first encounter with the spacers.
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