meej: (weekly.updates)
I've been essentially offline for the past two weeks. I've run forty-three miles, completed a tabata session (OH MY GOD), written five letters, gotten denied my chance to go home to visit my family for Christmas, and seen Ali's new house.

I have not yet looked at the WoW MoP expansion. I heard there's something about farming. Actual farming. Later this week I'll check in and see how badly Blizzard has impacted my headcanon. My theory is: a lot. But also: pet battles.

I have sprouted hives on my arms and legs, with bouts of itching so horrible that in the middle of the night I have considered simply flaying myself (but that itches, too), or killing myself with some sort of quickly-moving poison. Benadryl takes too long to work and then knocks me completely out for twelve hours. Oatmeal baths help a little. Maybe I need to run more.

Work is settled. The new boss is very cool. I like him. He has left me in charge while he's off at a conference in Houston for a week. Maybe that's the source of the hives. I hate responsibility. People should just do what I say and everything will be fine.

I've been preparing for the move to Nashville. A good half of my stuff is packed, inventoried, and put in storage. The other half is lying limply strewn over the rest of Pinkhouse. I have too much stuff and need to cull. I've tried to cut down my books to only what is not available on Kindle, but that's still a lot of books, and my stationery wardrobe is serious goddamned business, taking up a full shelf as it does. Iiiiii have far too many clothes for someone who wears a uniform to work and dresses mostly in workout clothes the rest of the time. More culling!

I am finding peace in my self as I put my environment in order. The only stress is coming from reassignment of stuff, and the resistance in my soul to divorcing myself from it in bits and bobs. Obviously I'd have a better shot at going whole-hog and living in a room with a mat and a lamp, but that isn't going to happen; I want some stuff. It's just a question of which stuff that will be.

One of this stuffs, obviously, is the Greyspell plushie Ali made me for my birthday. Despite everything, I still think that dumb emo lorks are cool. And there is a squid in his hood.

I am afraid to consult my backlog of webcomics, but Oglaf's siren call cannot be denied.
meej: (Default)
This is my new favorite thing, for now. (NSFW due to swearing in the very title of the page. Also, lots of shouty profanity, which is obviously one of my things.)

I've been inconsistent about my exercise for the past three weeks, which: these things happen when you go on cleaning jags and also have a two-year-old around the house, and also it's too hot for human habitation seriously what the hell tropical storms so selfish just blowing around when I have crap to do. I'm trying to keep up with it reasonably, since my birthday plans include - as they have for the past few years - running a number of miles in the lower double digits (and then eating all the pizza). I can reliably pull off ten miles without having to do overmuch preparation, so I'm considering I've hit a good point in my fitness. Also? I have a sixpack. I'm really very obnoxious in showing it off, too. I'll probably get better about this as I get more mature, but we've seen how mature I can be. We'll SEE.

I'm reading the new David Brin book. It's good, but he's doing the usual Brin thing of too many goddamned characters on their own tears for the first third and then what the hell!!!! Brandon Sanderson does this too, but he does adorable characters better than David Brin (David Brin still does much better dialogue and slang). So far: no giant squids. I don't know if I'm sad about this or not.

This is a documentary about a geisha in Kyoto. It is very nicely done.

Everyone should have seen "Gangnam Style" by now. If you haven't, Google it. I'M NOT YOUR MOTHER, I DON'T HAVE TIME TO FIND YOU LINKS TO EVERYTHING. Oh fine WATCH IT. Safe for work, I guess, but get some headphones.

I am trying not to stress over writing, trying not to make it about deadlines or "you HAVE to finish this", but just trying to ... let it flow. Sometimes this results in something stupid like a page of Graycloak insults, and sometimes it's turning into something cool, like the Vices/Virtues thingy Desnik and I are doing. I still have no idea where that's going, and that relaxes me immensely. I haven't been able to look at my forum tags for a while because the crippling guilt of OMG WHY DIDN'T I TAG BACK YET is cutting that right off. Baby steps. Baby steps. At least I still haven't hit the deadline of "when Walks finishes Kun-"

OH FFFFFFF
meej: (weekly.updates)
But then, I used to have a lot more time to waste. I used to see shirts that said, "I am so totally blogging this later", and I'd think, "I totally will, shirt! Right on!" I remember first getting onto Livejournal, even before college (what), and I'd update that sorry rag once a day, if not more.

Now I check my reading list daily and smile as I see my friends type in a sentence here and there, which reminds me to write them letters in longhand, and then... there it rests. I could post graphs of my running-times or updates of my precious guppy, but I'm lazy and it's like nine whole keystrokes to get the image to happen.

I could write about books I've read, but that's time I could be spending reading the next book in the series; I could extol the virtues of my friends, but that's when I could be talking with them; I could be whining about my writing, but that's time I could be actually telling stories with words, not just murfling about it.

What I need is longer periods of time with Internet access, and time spent hurry-up-and-waiting, afforded so well by office jobs and waiting for home repairmen to arrive.
meej: The Nonborn King (book.fandom)
The Dark Is Rising
Avaryan Rising (not the Dark)
The Silmarillion
Death's Master
The Nonborn King
Jack the Bodiless
The Fionavar Tapestry
The Name of the Wind
The Proofhouse


I have a lot of new things to read but it's that time of year when my brain is so pulped by heat that I can't process NEW ideas. TIME FOR OLD ONES TO SIFT OVER.

The fall of Gondolin, Pwyll Twiceborn, mercenary Lylas and Aiken Drum and Mirain (the good one) and Merriman Lyons and Gorgias, dammit Gorgias.

I don't know yet that I'm ready for a Sandman reread; I do love Morpheus but sometimes I just want to shake him. (Which is totally the point.) I am also not yet ready for Strange & Norrell, although I bet I'll get to that after The Proofhouse, because (dammit) Gorgias makes me think of Mr Norrell.

I WOULD LIKE TO REREAD THE COMPANY, BUT SOMEONE STILL HAS MY COPY (I wish I'd written Aidi Proiapsen.)
meej: Maitreyi Graycloak (bitch)
When authors describe someone's voice as "chocolatey".

No matter who does this (and I have counted six authors who have), it never fails to piss me off, because there are so many different kinds of chocolate.

Obviously they usually mean "sexy" or something like it, but god damn it use a good strong adjective for it, not something weaksauce like "like chocolate" you asshole, using food alongside sex bugs the CRAP out of me.

EVERYONE WRITE THE WAY I WANT YOU TO, FOREVER.

Brandon Sanderson and Rick Riordan are excused on the grounds that they already do. Likewise Tanith Lee, who has perfected sensual without stupid.

DREAMTIME

Feb. 3rd, 2011 08:06 am
meej: (awesome)
Skeiler and I were being driven to Mexico by my bossmans, but on the I-5 south we got pulled over by the police - more than likely because bossman's car is kind of skeevy. The police was convinced that we were drugrunning, and his evidence was that I had, in my bag, two pairs of lacy ivory wedding gloves, the sort that my sweet sweet knitting book tells me how to make on excruciatingly tiny needles.

I eyed the gloves and demanded, SKEILER ARE THESE YOURS.

She made cute innocent face (I have no idea what my skei-bot looks like but in dream-logic I knew this person to be her anyway) and demurred MAYBE.

And I thought MAYBE???? COME ON SKEI-BOT EITHER YOU HAVE WEDDING GLOVES OR YOU DON'T!

This dream was in all ways fabulous, possibly scored by Jack White, and the prologue featured the Scourge singing "It Can't Be True" from 13. I'm not sure who was singing as Lucy, but it may have been Agatha. That image broke my brain.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: TODAY I AM GOING TO FINISH LAI VERSUS MIRAIN, AND POST IT, BECAUSE I AM AWESOME.
meej: Lok'tar ogar, bitches. (for.the.horde)
Today in the middle of work (actually in the middling of constructing a cappuccino), I had a sceneflash of something that I am going to have to write about Shadowmoon Valley and the current Sunfury stationed there, simply because there is a line about Greyspell that I think is awesome.

THE CAPPUCCINO ALSO TURNED OUT WELL!
meej: (fanfic)
I found a slew of old fanfic ideas I had - mostly for Babylon 5, little snapshots of Talia Winters and Susan Ivanova and playing with the original concept JMS had, that Susan was going to have been the leader of the telepath rebellion. (Not that I do not love Lyta, but can you imagine Susan with her grief over both Talia and Marcus? I do not ship Susan and Marcus, mostly because oh she does not love him, at least she could have boffed him once, but he was her friend, and Susan had too few.) OH BY THE WAY THOSE WERE ALL SPOILERS FOR B5. YOU SHOULD HAVE WATCHED IT BY NOW ANYWAY.

I was going to write something about Season Three of Battlestar Galactica, but that might require watching it again. OH TEH NOES!

I had also some snippets about Narnia and the fate of Susan. I hated a Neil Gaiman story on this subject so badly that I never finished the other stories in the collection. I don't really know that I could write Narnia fic - I am not a deep enough theologian nor an efficient enough plotter - but I always wanted to punch Rabadash in the mouth (and then Lewis went and did it better).

I don't really have a lot of fandoms. I wasn't allowed to play video games growing up, so I missed out on a lot of the sweet RPGs that influenced a lot of my friends. (Fortunately pinkhouse is playing Suikoden now so I can see what happens!)

If I'd had the foresight to sign up for Yuletide, I'd demand a darkfic about Anne Remillard actually being Fury, or about Kassafeh building a tower of her ow - ... ... ... Actually I might write that one, incorporating pomegranates and the hopelessly cross-eyed guardsman. No one seems to read Flat Earth but me and twelve-year-old girls of various ages and genders (which: okay).

I always used to get deep narrow flashes of inspiration for fanfiction - particular reaches from the canon that I wanted to explore. These days I very rarely write with canon characters - well, no, that's only true for World of Warcraft, in which I write my rp characters rather than - say - Thrall or Varian Wrynn. I understand that this is also Richard Knaak's usual m.o., except when he's character-assassinating dwarves or the blue dragonflight (Kalecgos is not qualified to be an Aspect, oh FIDDLESTICKS). ... I could write about Kalecgos being awful and Tyrigosa and Haleh smacking him a good one, I suppose. I know it would make Cal happy.

I think that the moral of this story is that I need to write more snapshots. Oh hey! I had one for The Irresponsible Captain Tylor! And like NINE for Bastard!! I can't say a word about BSSM, as it spawned Graycloaks (tangentially).

In other news: I have all of my Christmas shopping done. BOOM!

AUTHORS

Nov. 10th, 2010 12:11 pm
meej: (indecisive)
The Rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen authors (poets included) who've influenced you and that will always stick with you. List the first fifteen you can recall in no more than fifteen minutes. Tag at least fifteen friends, including me, because I'm interested in seeing what authors my friends choose.




I stole it from Cal, who stole it from the Skei-bot! I tag everyone, because um that covers everyone on my list. XD

PEOPLE WHOSE WORDS STING IN MY BRAIN AND LAID EGGS )

All dead old white guys, except for the ones who aren't guys, and the ones who aren't dead. The patriarchy owns me, I guess. Recommend some poets of color for me? Ones who will speak with such colors.
meej: Saul Tigh is my homeboy (tigh)
At this point, I'm just not going to watch House to spite you.

You, personally.
meej: Charya Dhaumradana (unf)
14. How do you map out locations, if needed? Do you have any to show us?

ICON IS APPROPRIATE, I ASSURE YOU.

It's because Charya is the Road-lord, and maps are his bread and butter. )
meej: (graycloaks)
12. In what story did you feel you did the best job of world building? Any side-notes on it you’d like to share?

... :D :D :D

I WILL SHOW YOU FEAR, IN A HANDFUL OF ICE )

Man, I have to get snappier on these. Two-day responses? Pish posh.
meej: (Default)
8. What’s your favorite genre to write? To read?

The short answer is: things that are terrible.

Read more... )

Other things I love: the fall of Gondolin. That's the other short version. :D
meej: (Default)
3. How do you come up with names, for characters (and for places if you’re writing about fictional places)?

Read more... )
meej: Carlton Lassiter gets so tired sometimes. (tired)
I'm still really on the fence as to how I feel about Cataclysm.

I totally called some upcoming shifts in the lore (who was right about Desolace and Winterspring? me. thanks!), but I couldn't care less about worgen, and also I'm pretty sure that trolls are going to be mad about Kezan. I'm just saying. I have avoided reports from the beta like burning. I don't want to know. I want to find out on my own.

The playstyle shifts may flummox me for a while; I know it took me a while to hink around after TBC launched. (DERPGUARD)

I've been trying to write. It comes out all stunted and unlovely, so I've been gorging myself on good prose, and then getting mad when I can't write like that. Devouring words with hideous envy and admiration is helping, a little, but I still can't unlock what I want to convey, and my inner scenery looks like god damn Waiting for Godot.

I repainted the library, in creamsicle-orange and buttery-yellow. It looks like sunshine sherbet in there. I am wildly happy, even if I did drip some paint in my eye so I've been bespectacled (and bereft of peripheral sharpness).

I'm paging through old notebooks and noting with some surprise that I had some good ideas, once upon a time. Seriously? Wow. What happened?

IT IS TOO HOT FOR RATIONAL DISCOURSE.
meej: (uptight)
I was in all of the advanced classes in high school; in college I was permitted to opt out of English, literature, what have you, entirely, and jumped on that option like a toad out'n Calaveras County.

In high school, I was given the usual gamut of books to read - Frankenstein, Moby-Dick (which Ms. Gage hilariously insisted upon calling "Moby-Whale" in a worthy attempt to avert sniggering), Great Expectations, Lord of the Flies, ek cetra. Like most/all of all y'all, I had already read all of these books long before the tender savageries of ninth-grade English, and was bored stupid for the in-class discussions. I'm not faulting my teachers for this. They were probably delighted that students were reading anything past Sweet Valley High. (Ms. Jordan - all of them were "Ms.", even Ms. Patterson who was so obviously a missus that she gave up and began writing her name on the board so - caught me reading The Vampire Lestat in class once while I was waiting for something else to happen, and reamed me out. "What on earth is that?" "Um. I wanted to see what the fuss was about." "... Fine. What is all the fuss about?" "This guy never seems to have to pay for his mistakes." "I don't want to see that book in here again, it's not worth you." This was my first encounter with contemporary literary criticisms.)

My quibble with my English teachers was not that they made me read the Grand Western Canon, but that they never made me curious to look beyond it. I'd already delved into Austen, Dickens (blergh), Faulkner, and Steinbeck from my parents' bookshelves. (Tortilla Flats is my daddy's favorite book.) Fine. But not in four years of obedient essay-writing and earnest talk of symbolism did there arise any recommendations for other good authors. I mean, I wasn't asking them to be all Harold Bloom and boom forth "THESE ARE GREAT AUTHORS (and none other)", but I would've liked to have had mentioned at some point that if I liked Faulkner and Steinbeck, why not look into Joseph Conrad (whom I found also on my parents' bookshelves before some jackass tried to make me read Heart of Darkness), and from Conrad, go on to Ford Madox Ford and Henry James? Am I spoiled by Pandora?

What I am getting at, in the most roundabout kind of way, is that when I got slammed for reading Anne Rice in a class that was all about understanding the Western canon and book-larnin about Romeo and Juliet and some god-awful mess hight "The Scarlet Ibis", I took from that book a trail that led me to Poppy Z. Brite (glergh) to Tanith Lee (YAYE) to Julian May (flippin sweet) to David Brin. My teachers couldn't even be bothered to mention Ring Lardner or D.H. Lawrence.

I'm not blaming the downfall of American literacy on my high school teachers' failure to encourage curiosity about the entire body of work open to Young Minds, but: I had to find out about Saki from Stephen King.

My favorite short-story author. )
meej: (Default)
I have always loved the old fairy tales - the horrible things we tell to children that warn them against the dark, the grim tales told by the Brothers Grimm (who were, apparently, also super hot). Tanith Lee does this well (I am thinking principally of her Tales from the Flat Earth, although she also does actual vampyr novels and some hella dark fairy tale retellings, like I don't even know what to tell you about her Snow White story), and China Miéville, for all his faults, totally kicked my ass with the moths of Perdido Street Station. (I can never decide if I like Miéville or not; I know that I liked The Scar a lot more than PSS, but really what I like are tiny things buried in the middle of the muck and grit and grime and slime of his world. Also. The mosquito-women. Oh my GOD.) George RR Martin has some fantastic terrible fairy tales, although I want it noted that he, like Blizzard, totally ripped me off when I ripped off Tolkien.

I like the horror that patiently waits for you to notice it. Stephen King is excellent with this. So is Cordwainer Smith. The horror in pastels, the blood on the flower, the fairy tales with gorgeous prose that kisses you to sleep with poison fangs.

One of my very favorites is given to me by Tolkien.

Your mileage may vary for given values of Do I Like Tolkien's Prose Or Poesy. )

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meej

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