A little bit of an update

I'm exhausted today. Winter decided to sweep in and give us temperatures in the teens, which causes my legs to ache. So, I'm in pain. Combining those two makes for a very cruddy mood.

Dragon Queen is done, but it is already petulantly demanding my attention for revisions. (No, damn it! Go play by yourself for a while!)

Fury has reached an uncomfortable point for me, and so I'm struggling with it. Since I've rearranged the ending, the reunion with her father is coming up sooner (and differently). Shadow is not a nice person, but he's redeemable . . .but since I recently got back in contact with MY father, that experience is trying to manifest on the story WHICH IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN! You hear me? ::mutters::

This weekend will be completely manuscript free, however. I'm heading up to Missouri to visit my aunt and uncle. I haven't seen them since my uncle was in a motorcycle wreck and broke his neck. Now he is paralyzed from the neck down, but he has regained some mobility in his legs and arms. (Thank God). The doctors say he might be able to walk again one day. So, if you haven't guessed, I'm getting all emotional about it.

It also means that Jake will be left alone with Gyspy (my chihuahua). Which is fine, but since he claims he's going hunting most of the weekend, that means she'll be ALONE for the majority of the time. And penned up. So when I get home she will probably go into convulsions of excitement and destroy whatever pair of shoes I'm wearing at the time. LOL.

::sigh:: I'm just too tired to even think about it anymore.

Squee!

I'm done! I have just finished The Dragon Queen. I. AM. DONE. (with the first draft) And only one day after my goal. Can I get a "Woohoo!"?

Now, I get to set it aside and focus on Fury. Yay! HAPPY DANCE!

Immortal Love

Since I've finally admitted that I just might be a romance writer, I've been thinking a lot about love lately. But not the beginning of love--the part of the emotion that is so focused on in most novels--but the end.

Does love really end? Or is that phrase “I don’t love you anymore” a lie? Because, once we’ve started, can we really stop loving someone?

If you look at this world--all the divorces and breakups--you can easily answer yes. But I think there is more to it than that final good-bye. Love, no matter how we fight it, lingers. And you find yourself thinking about that person. Wondering what they are doing and how they are getting on.

Yes, you can stop loving someone. But not in a day. Or a month. Maybe not even a year. Because it takes a lot to kill love. Unlike falling in love--which can happen suddenly and unexpectedly--denying love takes work. Because love does not go away on its own. It has to be driven away. Whether by cruelty, indifference or a replacement. And it walks away, slowly, never running, always looking back with a question in its eyes. “Are you sure you want me to leave?”

People who disagree--well, you're fascinating. It must be lovely to walk away from love without regret or remorse. To blithely walk away from that person whom you proclaimed was your everything. I've done it, and I cannot describe the pain. A necessary agony, yes, but one that I never want to go through again.

This question of how love fades--either quickly or slowly--intrigues me. It makes me wonder if others can get over it faster than some. How tenacious is it?

I know that love has a different face for each person. It can be a mind-consuming inferno or a slow burn, but, either way, it affects you.

I've been thinking about writing a short story, perhaps an allegory, on the issue of how to fall out of love. There's a wiki-how on it (which, if you're looking to stay in love with someone, you should probably glance at as well and make sure you DON'T do those things). Hmm. The ideas are swirling. (And, if you've guessed, it probably will be a sad story.)

Pieces

“Pieces”

I find you sometimes

In a book I’ve read

That certain flavor of bubblegum

A lemon’s zing

You lurk in corners

So easy to forget, to misplace

But I find you at the bottom of my purse

In that perfect shade of lipstick

The broken compact

A crumpled receipt with “Hello” scribbled on the back

I often find you

In the shower’s steam

Drawing hearts and funny faces

In the fogged glass

The smell of shampoo

The scrape of a razor and its silken aftermath

You hide in closets, shelves, drawers

Just waiting for me to find you

A picture taken long ago

That same face, fuller, rounder

Pink with sunburn

Smiling

For a moment, I have you

And then you slip away

Sometimes I find you

In the eyes of someone else

Blue-green, so different

But it’s enough to make me believe

I can finally hold you forever

Slowly, you fade

I hardly realize you’re gone

Until I start finding the pieces again

A mermaid’s fins

A strand of pearls, a coffee cup

And I’m left standing in the middle of some room

Some place

With the certainty that something’s missing

OMG! I might actually meet one of my goals!

OMG!

I am on Dragon Queen's Epilogue.

Yes, you read that correctly. Just a few more pages of writing brilliance and I shall be done. D.O.N.E. Let the accolades ensue.

Sci-Fi is becoming fashionable?

Not sure if we're on the same boat, but my fashion choices growing up were a little... questionable? I like things that looked like they were from another era. Not the 60s or whatever, but more like renaissance or fairytale land. When those glittery ballerina flats came out, I was on cloud nine.

Well, apparently sci-fi/fantasy is becoming a prime focus for the fashion world now. Most likely due to the influx of sci-fi/fantasy movies. (Star Trek, Avatar, Lord of the Rings, etc.) And Victoria's Secret is taking its cue.

Behold: Angels with less than feathery wings .

Yay, dorks like me can finally be sexy!

Off-Kilter

Yesterday was a good day. Like usual, it started sagging around 3 p.m. (that two hour itch to go home), but nothing dastardly.

And then I clocked out to go home, stepped out into the blustery dark, and stopped.

Some inconsiderate a-hole had effectively prevented me from opening my driver's side door by parking a total of FOUR inches away. How they managed to do that without taking out my mirror, I have no idea. True a-holeness apparently takes talent.

What do I do?

Write a thank you note. After all, who wouldn't be grateful to be the recipient of such ignorance?

"Dear Corolla Owner,

"Thank you for your invitation to key your car. Your offer was most tempting, but I must unfortunately decline.

"And I must say that I am flattered that you think me so svelte that I can squeeze through the four-inch gap you left between my car and yours.

"Thank you for reminding me just how limber I am. It's been years since I've had to maneuver from the passenger's side to the driver's side in a compact car's interior. I stretched muscles I forgot I had. And I managed not to break an ankle, despite wearing high heels.

"And THANK YOU for having such confidence in my driving skills. I never knew I was so talented as to be able to get out of my parking space without knocking off your mirror or hitting the side of your car, which was so conveniently parked at an angle that overlapped my space. Fortunately for both of us, I could have been a stunt car driver.

"Have a wonderful night, you sweet, inconsiderate idiot. People like you make me wonder why I was ever worried about passing my driver's test."

::SIGH::

The sad thing is, I'm not exaggerating in the least. If I ever find out who drives that Corolla... let's just say what goes around comes around.