i've been thinking in all directions, waiting for the light to shine
So, yesterday may have been The Best Day Ever.
For one thing, I got to sleep and nobody woke me up to make me go somewhere. Even when somewhere is an all-day Lord of the Rings film marathon, bed is still a wonderful place. And Saturday tradition dictates that the morning is to be spent in bed with coffee and Weekend Edition and maybe a book, depending on how late I was up Friday. But yesterday I was due no-place, and it was lovely.
Later, after donning a rather fantastic outfit that included this marvellous wool blazer, I ran off to the library and acquired one of my essential autumn books (Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book -- and my other essential late October book ought to be arriving soon; I ordered a hardcover copy of Robin McKinley's Sunshine because my mass-market paperback is in danger of actually falling apart. It is so battered and forlorn that I don't think I can even put it up on PaperBackSwap, much less sell it or take it to the used book shop for store credit -- but it's so beloved, and it's a book, so I can't... you know... throw it away. I may use it to make crafts, because I love things made out of book pages*, but can't bring myself to, um, desecrate a book.), and then bicycled out to town to fetch another bottle of hair dye and listened to a lot of music on the way. I keep forgetting that much of the time, bicycling makes me ecstatic. Something about the fresh air and the exercise endorphins -- wow. Even coffee doesn't do this. And Moony actually behaved, for once -- lately he has not been attuned to me at all when I put him on shuffle. He did try to sneak a slow, quiet piano song in every other track -- when I am bicycling or walking someplace, music must be energetic, only excepted if it is extremely awesome.
* (Catherynne Valente, author of The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland, among other things, is getting married next week, and the roses in her bouquet, as well as the corsages for family members, are made from pages of her novels. And her bouquet has typewriter ribbons with typewriter keys on the ends. I have officially abandoned all old daydreams of a bouquet of red roses. Of course, my bouquet will also have leaves and berries in it, because I am getting married some time in October. Uh, you know, when there's a bloke around to be married to. I've never actually been one of those people who plans out every detail of their future wedding, but I am fairly adamant on the October thing. Also there will be reels and/or live swing music, NO DJ, and there will be a big party before the wedding in order to make a huge amount of homemade food. Mostly the idea is lots of old-fashioned merriment. And I will probably be wearing brocade lace granny boots, or possibly these, and my husband will probably be Wesley Lupin-Tennant or something.)
I don't know, it was just beautiful -- a perfect October afternoon, all blue skies and sharp bright leaves, and I'd go sailing through leaves on the pavement and they'd follow behind me like a little whirling train. And then I got home and found out that not only did the song I wrote inspired by Friday's episode of Dollhouse get a lot of attention, but Dichen freaking Lachman heard it, loved it, and linked to it on a Twitter post. (Dichen Lachman = the actress playing the character the song was about. No kidding. Not to mention one of the most gorgeous women on the planet. Is it wrong that my response to really unusually lovely people is frequently "BLIMEY! I have to base a character on this person!") Every time I so much as think about this I am in danger of falling off my chair again. I MEAN. SERIOUSLY. (This is probably
lady_moriel's fault, as she dropped a line to Whedonesque with a link to my song, which is probably where Dichen Lachman heard it, so clearly KYRA IS YET AGAIN MADE OF FINEST QUALITY AWESOME.) And people were re-tweeting it. I... don't even have words for this. Just flail.
And then I wrote another song. Which was weird. Because after several years of trying and failing to write songs I would even be interested in listening to, I had by and large convinced myself that I can't write songs. They never sounded like me! But I'm really proud of this one.
I feel like I'm really insanely busy for some reason. Aaackpth. Trying to jump back onto the wagon of Actually Commenting, but I keep missing the backboard and falling over, and then horses step on me. Ow.
Today: clean my bedroom before it eats me alive. Oh dear...
For one thing, I got to sleep and nobody woke me up to make me go somewhere. Even when somewhere is an all-day Lord of the Rings film marathon, bed is still a wonderful place. And Saturday tradition dictates that the morning is to be spent in bed with coffee and Weekend Edition and maybe a book, depending on how late I was up Friday. But yesterday I was due no-place, and it was lovely.
Later, after donning a rather fantastic outfit that included this marvellous wool blazer, I ran off to the library and acquired one of my essential autumn books (Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book -- and my other essential late October book ought to be arriving soon; I ordered a hardcover copy of Robin McKinley's Sunshine because my mass-market paperback is in danger of actually falling apart. It is so battered and forlorn that I don't think I can even put it up on PaperBackSwap, much less sell it or take it to the used book shop for store credit -- but it's so beloved, and it's a book, so I can't... you know... throw it away. I may use it to make crafts, because I love things made out of book pages*, but can't bring myself to, um, desecrate a book.), and then bicycled out to town to fetch another bottle of hair dye and listened to a lot of music on the way. I keep forgetting that much of the time, bicycling makes me ecstatic. Something about the fresh air and the exercise endorphins -- wow. Even coffee doesn't do this. And Moony actually behaved, for once -- lately he has not been attuned to me at all when I put him on shuffle. He did try to sneak a slow, quiet piano song in every other track -- when I am bicycling or walking someplace, music must be energetic, only excepted if it is extremely awesome.
* (Catherynne Valente, author of The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland, among other things, is getting married next week, and the roses in her bouquet, as well as the corsages for family members, are made from pages of her novels. And her bouquet has typewriter ribbons with typewriter keys on the ends. I have officially abandoned all old daydreams of a bouquet of red roses. Of course, my bouquet will also have leaves and berries in it, because I am getting married some time in October. Uh, you know, when there's a bloke around to be married to. I've never actually been one of those people who plans out every detail of their future wedding, but I am fairly adamant on the October thing. Also there will be reels and/or live swing music, NO DJ, and there will be a big party before the wedding in order to make a huge amount of homemade food. Mostly the idea is lots of old-fashioned merriment. And I will probably be wearing brocade lace granny boots, or possibly these, and my husband will probably be Wesley Lupin-Tennant or something.)
I don't know, it was just beautiful -- a perfect October afternoon, all blue skies and sharp bright leaves, and I'd go sailing through leaves on the pavement and they'd follow behind me like a little whirling train. And then I got home and found out that not only did the song I wrote inspired by Friday's episode of Dollhouse get a lot of attention, but Dichen freaking Lachman heard it, loved it, and linked to it on a Twitter post. (Dichen Lachman = the actress playing the character the song was about. No kidding. Not to mention one of the most gorgeous women on the planet. Is it wrong that my response to really unusually lovely people is frequently "BLIMEY! I have to base a character on this person!") Every time I so much as think about this I am in danger of falling off my chair again. I MEAN. SERIOUSLY. (This is probably
lady_moriel's fault, as she dropped a line to Whedonesque with a link to my song, which is probably where Dichen Lachman heard it, so clearly KYRA IS YET AGAIN MADE OF FINEST QUALITY AWESOME.) And people were re-tweeting it. I... don't even have words for this. Just flail.
And then I wrote another song. Which was weird. Because after several years of trying and failing to write songs I would even be interested in listening to, I had by and large convinced myself that I can't write songs. They never sounded like me! But I'm really proud of this one.
I feel like I'm really insanely busy for some reason. Aaackpth. Trying to jump back onto the wagon of Actually Commenting, but I keep missing the backboard and falling over, and then horses step on me. Ow.
Today: clean my bedroom before it eats me alive. Oh dear...