Category Archives: LJ

Last night Matthew and I watched K-Pax and The Mummy Returns. Actually, I only watched half of The Mummy Returns. Absence of caffeine took its toll and I started turning into a pumpkin a little after the Egyptian bikini cat fight scene. Z’okay. We saw it in the theater, so no big.

But we hadn’t seen K-Pax before. It was decent. I like it when Hollywood doesn’t make the mental health profession come off as a bunch of sadistic petty tyrants. I still think One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is unsurpassed on the whole movie-in-a-mental-institution front (this despite the sadistic petty tyrant issue), but K-Pax wasn’t bad. They did take the easy way out with the ending, which, of course, I knew they would. But it was still enjoyable. And I really like Kevin Spacey.

I completed the re-write I was working on and sent it out into the wilds. Bon voyage little story!

And me and a couple other Buffy fans in my DC2K writer’s group managed to convince a non-Buffy viewer to start watching it. *Cackle* Another addict in the fold.

Now, back to work on the Halloween story. Ack. It’s like pulling fangs. Big, pointy, deep-rooted fangs. Damn.

Last night, I wrote up a storm. After a diet cola and two cups of coffee. And this after having one and a half cups of coffee at work. I think I should seriously consider pulling back on the caffeine. Urg.

Anyway, am re-working yet another story from a couple years ago. It’s a good story, but my execution at that time wasn’t up to my ambition. Rather pleased with it now. I’ve culled 500 words (all of them bad) and smoothed out the prose. I’d actually be working on it now, but I’ve got this fuzzy beast curled up on my lap. I write on a laptop, but our cable modem ISP connection is to our desktop PC, so I’d have to relocate both of us, probably waking him up, to get to my laptop. Hobkin’s got his front paws over his nose, and he’s in a perfect “O”. The cuteness is overwhelming. I hate moving him, so instead, I’m updating LJ. Heh.

I’m seriously thinking about pulling everything I wrote from a couple years ago from marketing and looking them over with my new “re-write” mania. But then, I’d also feel like I’m moving backwards in not creating new stuff. Ach. I’ll continue to play it by ear.

Stolen from cleanlikegod. It’s about shoes!

1. What size shoe do you wear?

Sevenish? Depends on the shoe, of course.

2. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

Depends on which member of our household you ask.

Me: “Not nearly enough.”
Matthew: “Zillions. Way too many! They’re everywhere, Eugie! How can you possibly need more shoes?”
Hobkin: “roink” *swipes shoe*

3. What type of shoe do you prefer (boots, sneakers, pumps, etc.)?

Sexy ones with high heels. Boots are great, ankle boots or calf-lengh, or thigh-hi. Stiletto heels, clunky heels, or platform heels. But pumps are good too. Shiny black ones.

But no leather. I don’t buy or wear leather. Sigh. I see so many wonderful shoes in shop windows but when I go in to try them on, most of them are leather. Probably just as well . . .

4. Describe your favorite pair of shoes. Why are they your favorite?

Lovely matte black ankle boots with a three-inch heel. They go with so many things, and they’re surprisingly comfortable. I can run around at convention for nearly a whole day without my feet beginning to complain. And I can put them on after being tightly laced in a corset ’cause they zip up rather than lace!

5. What’s the most you’ve spent on one pair of shoes?

Urg. I think $150 on a pair of Italian sandals. They’re these strappy black things with a clunky heel. I love them.

Some of y’all reading this know what I’m talking about, and the ones that don’t, well, I don’t really think a lot of gawpers is appropriate, so I’m not going into specifics or posting a link.

Anyway, I’m debating someone online. And I keep meaning to just drop the thread since it has devolved into the other person gnashing their teeth at me.

But I don’t, because she keeps coming back with some silly accusation about me.

The thing is, I just don’t believe in turning the other cheek. I don’t believe in roundhouse kicking someone in the face either. Well, usually. But I do believe in trussing up someone who slaps me, and then explaining to them that slapping isn’t nice, and then Clockwork Oranging them until they can’t slap people anymore.

Or, oops, maybe I just like trussing people up. Mmmm. Shiny rope.

Um, anyway, so I feel bad that I’m mucking up someone else’s online arena with the silliness, but at the same time, it’s just not in me to back down.

I think I’ve got a few strands of fiery red hair hidden underneath all the black.

Sigh.

I couldn’t bring myself to write anything yesterday, so we put up Halloween decorations. Whee! Hobkin dove at one of the garlands, murder gleaming in his little eyes, when I let an end dangle too low. It was very cute. But it definitely reinforced: “must keep decorations out of reach of eager paws.”

It’s beginning to look a lot like Halloween . . .

And the publisher of Planet Relish called me about the Fiction Editor position. The interview was, well, it went. I’m not good at phone interviews. I’ll know his final decision in a few days. Either way, I’m okay with it. If I got it, it’d be fun, and excellent experience. But it’d also be a huge drain on my time, and it doesn’t have monetary compensation. *shrugs* So, I’m not that worked up about it.

Received a 71-day rejection from City Slab in my email in-basket this morning.

I’m extra bummed ’cause I’d heard that anything this market kept for longer than 30 days was under serious consideration, so I had my hopes up.

Also, this piece is going to be hard to place now. It’s extremely graphic and edgy. I hoped it would be a good fit with these folks.

And a niggling “WTF?” I sent them a SASE with my submission packet and they sent me an email reply? If they’d said in their guidelines that they responded via email I could’ve saved myself the stamp. Grumble.

But, on an up note, it was a nice rejection slip. They said I had an “engaging style” and invited me to send them something else.

Still, pook. A lot.

For some reason, really intense programming gets my wing spurs flaring up more than writing.

I’ve got an extra set of ribs in my neck. Freaky, huh? Matthew and I debate whether I’m growing wings or sprouting Cthulu tentacles. They create pressure on my thoracic nerve periodically, creating a painful tingling down my arms and in my hands. It was misdiagnosed initially as carpal tunnel. So, hurray, I don’t have carpal tunnel. But ow, I’ve got thoracic outlet syndrome.

And I’m having a flare-up today. Think that tingly, pins and needles sensation you get right as a body part of your choice starts falling asleep. Then make the pins and needles bigger and pointier. There. That’s what I’m feeling in my arms and hands. Ouch.

Stupid mutant ribs. Wish I’d hurry up and manifest as either an angel or a demon from the pit. Don’t care which. Just want the pain to go away.

Owie.

Finished up the program I was working on at work. It actually turned out pretty nifty. I put a few more bells and whistles on the final product than my end user requested, and she’s very pleased with them (and me).

Y’know, as sick as it sounds, I actually like programming. I start out with some task that needs to be accomplished, and then when I’m done, I’ve created this nifty new tool that does it.

Although I could use fewer days like yesterday where I was so sucked into fixing up my program that I didn’t even stop for lunch . . .

On writing:

Less warm-glowies on that front. I’ve hit a wall. Every new paragraph I crank out feels like I’m pulling teeth. And when I re-read what I have managed to force out, I’m disheartened by the level of crapitude I’m producing. Argh.

Slut-bitch-whore muse. Grr.

My brain is sludge. Work hard. Spent the whole day programming and debugging and I’m feeling cross-eyed and dazed from it.

So, here’s something pretty to look at:

Which ArchAngel are you most like?
brought to you by Quizilla

Gabriel. You’re most like the ArchAngel of Communication, in charge of things like telephones, libraries, internet, and the 411 phone menu. You’re organised and are not shy about inflicting that organisation on others.