Santa? Already?
I’ve been struggling recently. Far more than is actually reasonable for my dilemma, if I’m to be honest. I’m meant to be writing a story. It’s for a Secret Santa dealy, and there’s no way I’m backing out on it. Only my victim’s recipient’s request is something I’m so out of my league on.
And here’s where the crazy person in me starts to come into full bloom. I detest giving people gifts I’m not perfectly certain they’ll like. And this prompt doesn’t give me enough to be certain. So I’ve spent the last little while “researching” which really means using my less-than-advanced google-fu to try and find stories my giftee has written to get some idea of what s/he likes. Yes, Internet, I have turned into some sort of demi-stalker.
So I’m about a third of the way into this story now, and I’ve gotta admit, I kind of like it. The story, I mean. Which bodes ill. Because if I like it, there’s every chance it’s entirely wrong for the giftee.
Bugger.
Clean Bill of Health
Good news. I’m officially well again. To find that out I had to spend the better part of yesterday dopey on sedatives, but it was definitely worth it.
As a result of that, I don’t really have much to say. But I thought I’d share.
Contents May Be Graphic
I got off pretty easily last night when I said what I’m in the process of reading. Joel is pretty popular at the book club, so reading one of his books is an instant get-out-of-jail-free card. Besides, there was another issue far greater than my slacker ways. Graphic novels. Someone was talking about Alan Moore’s Watchmen.
It quickly became obvious there was something bordering on contempt for graphic novels among a large proportion of the group. I was a little shocked by that. The usual expectation is that science fiction / fantasy readers tend more toward open-mindedness, so to see the outright dismissal of graphic novels as being only for men who never grew up came as something of a surprise.
I suspect most people who have an interest in fantasy have at least once had someone call their preference escapism, or looked down on in some way as being somehow less worthy than mainstream or literary works. It saddened me a little to see it happen in a place where I would never have expected to find that attitude. I’ll be honest. I’ve never read a graphic novel. I’m thinking about giving it a go. I know a lot of people who enjoy them. Not all of them men, and not all of them clinging to a lost adolescence.
There’s nothing inherently inferior about any medium whether I like it or not.
Trouble
It looks like I’m in trouble again. It’s book club night tonight and I haven’t read a single (published) book all month. I’m only a quarter of the way through Petrodor at the moment. That’s shockingly slow for me, which is frustrating because it’s not a bad book. I’m enjoying it. It’s just a matter of (hours in a day - hours I sleep) / what else I’m supposed to be doing.
In fact, I shouldn’t even be posting right now. There’s three other things I should be doing.
The Dangers of Alcohol
One thing a person should avoid doing while intoxicated is editing. It seldom makes things better. In some cases it makes things worse. Another is sending emails of the project upon completion of the drunken edits to other people. Sober people.
This is an idea I have no doubt has been thrown about on the internet before, but someone, preferably ThinkGeek because I like them, ought to market a USB breathalyser which prevents you from performing certain tasks while under the influence. Want to send an email? Blow into the tube. The error message could be a HAL 9000 quote. “I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Sure, gmail has that thing now where you can switch on a doo-dad and at certain times of the week it’ll make you answer some basic maths questions before allowing you to send an email. But there are those of us out there whose judgment is impaired long before the ability to answer basic maths questions. No, a breath test is the way to go.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be hanging my head in shame.
Great Success
As you can no doubt see by my side bar, I’m currently reading purely for pleasure. That’s right, I finished my betaing “job” and am taking a break to rejuvenate my brain before the next. It’s actually harder work than I expected. The urge to say nothing at all if I can’t say anything nice is quite strong, but mercifully so far I haven’t encountered anything I can’t find a single nice thing to say about. Still, some people are more thin-skinned than others so it can be a bit of a worry.
That’s about all I have to report. Except I’ve caught up on my emails now so if you haven’t had a reply to something which in some way needed one, that means it has probably been lost. I apologise for that and, if it still seems important, by all means re-send. I’ll try not to lose it again.
Blonde Day
I got up this morning and I was feeling kind of cheeky, kind of funny, and decided this was the perfect day for pigtails and my toxic green Little Miss Naughty t-shirt. A phone call later on reminded me of a doctor’s visit I’d conveniently forgotten about. By then I’d also totally forgotten about my cheeky, funny morning and headed straight out the door.
I’ve never been grinned at quite so much in my life. I was feeling kind of charismatic, kind of charming. Then, after the appointment, I was on my way back to the car and an old fellow looked at me, grinned and said, “I like your t-shirt.” I thanked him, then once I’d edged away far enough, I looked down.
Oh. Whoops. I wasn’t kind of charismatic, kind of charming. I was just a source of amusement.
How deflating.
The Glorious Return of Me
Welcome to Monday. I’ve decided to ease myself back into posting slowly today, so as not to overwhelm myself with the sheer joy of sharing my little world with you again. Just as a side note, there are emails I received during my absence and I’m steadily catching up but it’s taking a while because of other commitments. If I haven’t got to you yet, I promise I will.
Yesterday I took a trip in to the city to my favourite book store (I’m seriously going to miss that place, let me tell you) and caved in to my inner fangirl. Ever since its release I’d been holding off on buying Petrodor (Joel Shepherd) because I wanted to wait until it was released in mass-market paperback. I’m allowed to be stingy, don’t judge, but that’s not why. My copy of Sasha is mass-market. I hate having trilogies or series in mixed sizes. Yes, that’s strangely picky of me. But what can you do?
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to kick off with a review, since a day isn’t long enough for me to read a book and let it sit so I can give a considered opinion. But I wanted to put a little note in my sidebar about how that was what I was reading.
It’s not what I’m reading though. What I’m reading is a manuscript by a fellow aspiring writer. It’s a good book, actually, so I’m not too displeased about it. It makes me feel woefully inadequate, of course, but that’s a good thing. It gives me something to work towards.
So that’s what I’m doing today. Hardly warrants a post really, but a promise is a promise. Hopefully I’ll be able to update my little sidebar with the happy news I’m reading Petrodor tomorrow.
After such an extended silence, things are finally starting to get back on track here. My health has more or less gotten back to normal, and I’m starting to catch up on all of the things which had fallen by the wayside while I wasn’t well.
That means things will be returning to more regular posting around here as of next Monday, assuming everything goes according to plan.