Verbal memes.
Yet another meme, brought to you by the wild, wide and wacky world of LiveJournal. How did we keep ourselves occupied before?
As the days go by, I have been...
Reading...mostly revision after revision of 'Chasing St. Margaret', with breaks to dive into 'The Gunslinger', 'Emergence' and 'Changer', old friends that know where to put their hands and when to kiss and when to smile coyly and deny me.
Writing...so many, many things. First dates in London and blindly terrified rescues through the twisted wilds of a madman's mind. Mermaid kisses and pixie traps, coyote dreams and funeral dances underneath the veils of dreaming spiders. It's been a textual romance week.
Researching...the ins and outs of London, learning her streets and sights as I prepare for the strangest, most frightening, most wonderful single-volume project that I've ever undertaken. Not the longest, but definitely the one that came with the most upfront commitment.
Creating...entire worlds out of nothing but words on a page.
Making...choices about the way the next few days, weeks and months will be, patterns out of chaos and chaos out of patterns.
Pushing...myself to meet the deadlines that I set for myself, to finish this story and move on to the next one, to get things done and keep moving forward.
Applying...all my efforts to keeping myself focused and on track, rather than being distracted by all the things surrounding me.
Striving...to be the very best I can at all the things that pull on my attention; to actually live up to my potential rather than stopping at 'good enough', because it isn't. There's always the opportunity to do better.
Planning...the next steps.
Deciding...what to work on next, and how to keep motivating myself -- self-made carrots and sticks -- into moving forward.
Wanting...to be done with the current chunk of text, because the piece around the corner is always more exciting than the one that's right in front of you. Thus does the world continue.
Watching...Our Meg and The Cat dance like mad things, rain falling in the yard, the cats racing through the house, all the little delights and dramas of my friends as they played out in front of me.
Seeing...Leela curled asleep on my knee; coyotes bringing me pieces of half-rotted holiday pumpkin like offerings; rain pattering on the fallen leaves in the yard and drawing oracular swirls of autumn.
Enjoying...not being sick anymore, the little things that life has to offer, the feeling of sheer satisfaction to be had when the words click together like pieces of a puzzle and suddenly the story is there in black and white, like a promise, like a psalm.
Playing...with dreams, with designs, with ideas and ideals -- and with my My Little Pony Castle, which is gloriously pink and takes up a really remarkable amount of space on the counter in my bedroom.
Dreaming...of songs and strings and ceiling wax, of cats and cabbages, of kings and hot air balloons borne up by butterflies. Of three roads that lead to Cherry Lane, and a girl with blue and white hair who bleeds data and weeps tears of information. I dream of home.
Hoping...I can say the things that need to be said before the sands run out and time is lost forever.
Listening...to music from around the world, to the sound of rain falling on the rooftops, to the purring of my cats, to the laughter of friends.
Pausing...to consider the world, my place in it, and what will happen as the pulse of days continues on. Should I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? Things happen with me or without me, and if I don't step back to watch them once in a while, I forget that part.
Loving...too well and not well enough; people that are far away, that don't love me, that love me more than I love them; the taste of rain, the smell of damp leaves, the feeling of fur under my fingers; the cold.
Believing...that things happen for a purpose, and that Coyote loves me, and that the rain falls because I ask it to. That money makers were made for shaking and hearts were made for breaking, because things that are healed are stronger than things that have never been scarred.
Knowing...that whatever happens, I will always be myself, and who I am now and who I was yesterday will wait for me until time has ended, because the shadows of my past are the foundations of my future.
Being...the thin line between orderly chaos and chaotic order, the point where systems meet and change and meet again; the division between sense and nonsense, lazy kinetic flux, silent sound. I am the Rain King. I am Seanan, daughter of Daniel and Mary Mickaleen. I am the point where the jabberwocky meets the unicorn, and I am enough for you, and you are enough for me, and we have all the world and time.
And that, as they say, is that.
As the days go by, I have been...
Reading...mostly revision after revision of 'Chasing St. Margaret', with breaks to dive into 'The Gunslinger', 'Emergence' and 'Changer', old friends that know where to put their hands and when to kiss and when to smile coyly and deny me.
Writing...so many, many things. First dates in London and blindly terrified rescues through the twisted wilds of a madman's mind. Mermaid kisses and pixie traps, coyote dreams and funeral dances underneath the veils of dreaming spiders. It's been a textual romance week.
Researching...the ins and outs of London, learning her streets and sights as I prepare for the strangest, most frightening, most wonderful single-volume project that I've ever undertaken. Not the longest, but definitely the one that came with the most upfront commitment.
Creating...entire worlds out of nothing but words on a page.
Making...choices about the way the next few days, weeks and months will be, patterns out of chaos and chaos out of patterns.
Pushing...myself to meet the deadlines that I set for myself, to finish this story and move on to the next one, to get things done and keep moving forward.
Applying...all my efforts to keeping myself focused and on track, rather than being distracted by all the things surrounding me.
Striving...to be the very best I can at all the things that pull on my attention; to actually live up to my potential rather than stopping at 'good enough', because it isn't. There's always the opportunity to do better.
Planning...the next steps.
Deciding...what to work on next, and how to keep motivating myself -- self-made carrots and sticks -- into moving forward.
Wanting...to be done with the current chunk of text, because the piece around the corner is always more exciting than the one that's right in front of you. Thus does the world continue.
Watching...Our Meg and The Cat dance like mad things, rain falling in the yard, the cats racing through the house, all the little delights and dramas of my friends as they played out in front of me.
Seeing...Leela curled asleep on my knee; coyotes bringing me pieces of half-rotted holiday pumpkin like offerings; rain pattering on the fallen leaves in the yard and drawing oracular swirls of autumn.
Enjoying...not being sick anymore, the little things that life has to offer, the feeling of sheer satisfaction to be had when the words click together like pieces of a puzzle and suddenly the story is there in black and white, like a promise, like a psalm.
Playing...with dreams, with designs, with ideas and ideals -- and with my My Little Pony Castle, which is gloriously pink and takes up a really remarkable amount of space on the counter in my bedroom.
Dreaming...of songs and strings and ceiling wax, of cats and cabbages, of kings and hot air balloons borne up by butterflies. Of three roads that lead to Cherry Lane, and a girl with blue and white hair who bleeds data and weeps tears of information. I dream of home.
Hoping...I can say the things that need to be said before the sands run out and time is lost forever.
Listening...to music from around the world, to the sound of rain falling on the rooftops, to the purring of my cats, to the laughter of friends.
Pausing...to consider the world, my place in it, and what will happen as the pulse of days continues on. Should I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? Things happen with me or without me, and if I don't step back to watch them once in a while, I forget that part.
Loving...too well and not well enough; people that are far away, that don't love me, that love me more than I love them; the taste of rain, the smell of damp leaves, the feeling of fur under my fingers; the cold.
Believing...that things happen for a purpose, and that Coyote loves me, and that the rain falls because I ask it to. That money makers were made for shaking and hearts were made for breaking, because things that are healed are stronger than things that have never been scarred.
Knowing...that whatever happens, I will always be myself, and who I am now and who I was yesterday will wait for me until time has ended, because the shadows of my past are the foundations of my future.
Being...the thin line between orderly chaos and chaotic order, the point where systems meet and change and meet again; the division between sense and nonsense, lazy kinetic flux, silent sound. I am the Rain King. I am Seanan, daughter of Daniel and Mary Mickaleen. I am the point where the jabberwocky meets the unicorn, and I am enough for you, and you are enough for me, and we have all the world and time.
And that, as they say, is that.