Dragons and princesses

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Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deeps something helpless that wants help from us.

From Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet, via Jane Friedman’s blog.
The house is looking more livable now…but still lots to do. And an apartment to pack up/clean. Sorry to all the prospective tenants coming to take a look…just don’t have time to tidy up much. I can’t wait until I get moved into my new house. It will be SO nice.

Keys!

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I guess I’m officially an adult: I closed on a house yesterday. I have my very own address. Excuse me while I squee.
—ZOMG keys!—
Ahem. It’s small but well proportioned and just the right size for me. There is so much work to be done, but eventually it will look really nice, and be, you know, livable with actual appliances and furniture.
One of these days I’ll have a painting party and you can all come. I’ll have a reason to use the tiny grill. And for those of you who don’t want to get your hands dirty, yes, I believe I’ll have a housewarming party too 🙂 Details to follow…sometime.
I’m excited. My bank account cries, and I’m sore already from lugging purchases and cleaning, but this is a good thing. An investment in my future–a life step, a part of the American Dream. Now all I have to do is write the Great American Novel and I can get out of debt. *wink wink*

A Giant Fourth

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Overheard on the radio:
A giant is taking questions like: Are you really a giant? Is your wife a giant too?.
Then he gets this one: How does a giant celebrate the Fourth of July?
He says, “I have to get far away from the fireworks, or else I have to duck” (haha) “no, seriously, I love some hotdogs, some hamburgers, and a good mattress sale.”
?! I don’t even know what mattress store this commercial was for–I was too flabbergasted by the total non sequiteur.
Not so funny: RIP Farrah Fawcett and Jacko’s in the hospital following a heart attack. Pop culture just took a major hit.

a softball haiku

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Since it is the day before a softball game and it’s raining, I present to you a softball haiku:
softball–a dream that
never becomes realized
because it rains so
Last night I had a dream where I was a Transformer-like Eliza Dushku (yes, I was listening to the soundtrack to Transformers last night–why do you ask?) and I really wanted to read the as-yet unpublished manuscript of some famous author–dunno who. I could get anywhere I wanted because I was pretty and rich and then could, you know, transform to get out of there. So I go to this author’s place, grab the manuscript, but the police come before I can leave. Thus, I run out of the house, throw the ms. in the air, become a car, and careen off, but the policeman shoots and knocks off the license plate. Since I am a bibliophile, after the policeman has given up the chase, all he finds is the piece of plate with part of a plastic plate protector. The partial plate says OO, and the plate protector says “ublic Lib”–get it? The plate reads BOOKS (or something similar) and the protector promotes some city’s Public Library.
And then I told it all to Eliza Dushku, who was apparently at a garage sale with me. Go fig.
On a serious note: one of my favorite authors (and one who probably played a part in my wanting to be a fantasy author), David Eddings, passed away last night. He will be missed. I brought the first book in the Elenium, The Diamond Throne, with me to work to read in memoriam.

Good Fiction

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“The test of any good fiction is that you should care something for the characters; the good to succeed, the bad to fail. The trouble with most fiction is that you want them all to land in hell, together, as quickly as possible.”
–Mark Twain

From the Wyrdsmith’s blog.
I woke up yesterday with the conclusion of last year’s NaNo nearly complete in my head, just before the alarm went off. So of course I had to wake myself up enough to write it down, so I wouldn’t forget it. That story must get done!
Busy day today, which is good. Will take my mind off the issue in need of fingers crossed.

Unfettered

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“In art we are once again able to do all the things we have forgotten; we are able to walk on water; we speak to the angels who call us; we move, unfettered, among the stars.” –Madeleine L’Engle

Thanks to Isaac from my writing group and NaNo.
I think I might have forgotten a plot point for Red Skirts. But I thought of another one–or maybe it’s the same one–so hopefully I’ll end up in the same place. Better remember it this time…
Still looking for a house, yes. Here’s hoping.

something learned

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More pithiness from Neil Gaiman. Gotta reread American Gods sometime.

…I saved the document on the computer, and I realised I’d finished writing a book.
I wondered what I’d learned, and found myself remembering something Gene Wolfe had told me, six months earlier. “You never learn how to write a novel,” he said. “You just learn how to write the novel that you’re writing.”

This housing search has really put a crimp in my reading and writing schedule. I’ve only read 4 books this month so far, and I don’t think I’ve done any writing at all. I know I had some ideas, though…hopefully they’ll wait until figure out my living situation. And when I have a house…maybe I’ll have a dedicated writing room. Here’s hoping.

Six

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Huzzah! Today is my six-year anniversary of starting work at WUMS. One more year and my kids can go to WU for free. My non-existent, not-even-a-twinkle-in-my-eye kids. One day, mom, one day you’ll be a grandmother.
Also: househunting is an exercise in frustration. The hopeful-excited/dejected-disappointed cycle is NOT COOL. Do not want. But I need a place to live and I want that place to be my own, so to the hunt we go.
Thirdly, if you are in want of something to do this weekend, stop by the Kirkwood Festival of Food and Flowers, and see Artists in Bloom, one of which will be my mother. It’s located right across from the Kirkwood City Hall, just a short walk from the Amtrak station, and buddied up with a farmer’s market. Also, Dewey’s Pizza is just up the street. You can’t lose. Hope to see you around!

The Importance of the novel

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And here lies the vast importance of the novel, properly handled. It can inform and lead into new places the flow of our sympathetic consciousness, and it can lead our sympathy away in recoil from things gone dead. Therefore, the novel, properly handled, can reveal the most secret places of life: for it is in the passional secret places of life, above all, that the tide of sensitive awareness needs to ebb and flow, cleansing and freshening.

from Ch. 9 of Lady Chatterley’s Lover, D.H. Lawrence.
Got a bit of a bombshell today when my roommate informed me that she won’t be renewing her part of the lease. There’s only a month left on the current one. I’ve been looking at condos, even have a realtor and a banker guy, but I don’t know how this is going to work out in a month. Do I sign the lease and find a subletter when I find a new place? Not sign the lease and hope something works out? Sigh.