In which I ramble about various things..
I've been feeling really frustrated and discouraged lately. And kind of like I'm just talking to thin air. I'm eleven pages into my original fiction novel.. Woooo.. It's coming along a lot easier than I thought, and I have lots of ideas that I can't wait to write out and things are fitting together beautifully.. But I feel like I have nobody to share the triumph with. It's disheartening me, and I feel some of my zeal for the project starting to slip away. I let my dad read the first five pages and he told me, "It's good, you've got talent," but he reads science fiction and the first Anita Blake book scared him. He obviously has no taste in literature.
I tried to convince my creative writing teacher that he should read the Black Jewels Trilogy. I brought the first book, "Daughter of the Blood", in today and showed it to him. He read the back cover and repeated the author's name [Anne Bishop] a few times, as though trying to commit it to memory. The bell rang than, so I gathered my stuff together. He said he'd look into the book, and I think he was going to write it down, but I'm not sure. I was fully prepared to lend him my copy, anything to share such brilliant work with more people, especially as I saw they didn't have the first book in Barnes & Noble when I went there yesterday. I told him this, and said that I'd noticed because I always swing by those books every time I go to the bookstore, just to say hi, and- He laughed then, and repeated, "Just to say hi?" I narrowed my eyes at him and said defensively, "Shut up. I do that with books." I think he was amused.
Whenever I desperately want someone to read the Black Jewels Trilogy, it's partially that I want them to understand me. I say "those books own my soul," but truly, those books are my soul, committed to paper and published. Like Anne Bishop was writing my heart.. The first book was published ten years ago - I would have been seven then. When I'm thinking wishfully, I like to dream that I knew Anne Bishop as a child, and that I might have inspired her Jaenelle. I know it's highly unlikely. But when you're lonely, you dream up all sorts of things to keep you company. Because those books were a homecoming for me - it clicked, it resonated with me. The only difference is that I didn't have a Briarwood - for which I'm grateful. [As far as I remember. People repress memories all the time. But I think I'd remember something like that.] I only hope that someday I can find the same happiness as Jaenelle did.
Other tidbits: Finished reading "A Certain Slant of Light" today. It was a beautiful story, very touching and achingly sweet. The next thing I'm going to read is the sequel to "Howl's Moving Castle" by Diana Wynne Jones, which is "Castle in the Air". I bought it yesterday when I went to B&N, and I can't wait to start it. I take the ACT for the first time tomorrow. My dad's at the shops buying me Red Bull and #2 pencils. I think I'll make some nutcakes tonight. I have the ingredients, and I want to use the almonds before they go bad. My cat had to have two teeth pulled yesterday - he was at the vet all day, and got home only a short time before I did. He was very drugged up still, and skittish. He normally loves to be picked up, at least by family members, but he kept scuttling away whenever we tried to pick him up yesterday. He'd obviously had quite enough manhandling for one day, thank you. He also seemed to be very confused and forgetful, and often had a look on his face as though he was saying, "Wait.. What was I doing? Was I going somewhere? Wait.. What was I just thinking?" My mom said they usually give cats medication that helps them forget the unpleasant vet/surgery situation, though, so it's fine. I think he's happier not remembering such a traumatizing day.
When I went to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I saw him sitting in the living room. I told him, "Well, come in, then," and left the door open about six inches while I went and got back into bed. He soon followed and snuggled up with me. Usually he falls right to sleep when he does this, and I'm the one who has a hard time sleeping, because he's usually got one of my arms pinned and I toss and turn a lot in bed. And whenever you try and scootch away, to give yourself a little room, he'll close the space by snuggling right back up close to you, even if he's fast asleep. He ends up with almost the entire bed by morning. But last night, he didn't go right to sleep. He just lay there, his eyes huge and dark blue, staring at my face. I told him, "Don't worry. I'll be here all night." I think he relaxed after that. We've always been very close. My last cat, Henry, regarded me as more of a sibling. We loved one another, but it's a different sort of relationship with Merlin now. He sort of views me as a young aunt. Our family structure is very like a lion pride. My mom and I are both cat-souled, and we both entirely agree on this matter. Merlin is the cubling, though he has fits in which he tries to express his dominance by having tantrums. We are the lionesses, my mom the mother and I the aunt with a share in the raising of the cubs. My dad is dog-souled, so he's exempt from this dynamic. He's still part of the family, but I don't think he would understand the pride undertones. Merlin likes to jump on him to hear him say "oof" or sit on him or talk to him sometimes, but they're not pride. It's difficult to explain - there's just not that essential tie that says "we are kindred" there. Anyway, Merlin's feeling a bit better today. He's still a little woozy, because he's still on pain medication for the pulled teeth, but he seems more grounded again.
I tried to convince my creative writing teacher that he should read the Black Jewels Trilogy. I brought the first book, "Daughter of the Blood", in today and showed it to him. He read the back cover and repeated the author's name [Anne Bishop] a few times, as though trying to commit it to memory. The bell rang than, so I gathered my stuff together. He said he'd look into the book, and I think he was going to write it down, but I'm not sure. I was fully prepared to lend him my copy, anything to share such brilliant work with more people, especially as I saw they didn't have the first book in Barnes & Noble when I went there yesterday. I told him this, and said that I'd noticed because I always swing by those books every time I go to the bookstore, just to say hi, and- He laughed then, and repeated, "Just to say hi?" I narrowed my eyes at him and said defensively, "Shut up. I do that with books." I think he was amused.
Whenever I desperately want someone to read the Black Jewels Trilogy, it's partially that I want them to understand me. I say "those books own my soul," but truly, those books are my soul, committed to paper and published. Like Anne Bishop was writing my heart.. The first book was published ten years ago - I would have been seven then. When I'm thinking wishfully, I like to dream that I knew Anne Bishop as a child, and that I might have inspired her Jaenelle. I know it's highly unlikely. But when you're lonely, you dream up all sorts of things to keep you company. Because those books were a homecoming for me - it clicked, it resonated with me. The only difference is that I didn't have a Briarwood - for which I'm grateful. [As far as I remember. People repress memories all the time. But I think I'd remember something like that.] I only hope that someday I can find the same happiness as Jaenelle did.
Other tidbits: Finished reading "A Certain Slant of Light" today. It was a beautiful story, very touching and achingly sweet. The next thing I'm going to read is the sequel to "Howl's Moving Castle" by Diana Wynne Jones, which is "Castle in the Air". I bought it yesterday when I went to B&N, and I can't wait to start it. I take the ACT for the first time tomorrow. My dad's at the shops buying me Red Bull and #2 pencils. I think I'll make some nutcakes tonight. I have the ingredients, and I want to use the almonds before they go bad. My cat had to have two teeth pulled yesterday - he was at the vet all day, and got home only a short time before I did. He was very drugged up still, and skittish. He normally loves to be picked up, at least by family members, but he kept scuttling away whenever we tried to pick him up yesterday. He'd obviously had quite enough manhandling for one day, thank you. He also seemed to be very confused and forgetful, and often had a look on his face as though he was saying, "Wait.. What was I doing? Was I going somewhere? Wait.. What was I just thinking?" My mom said they usually give cats medication that helps them forget the unpleasant vet/surgery situation, though, so it's fine. I think he's happier not remembering such a traumatizing day.
When I went to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I saw him sitting in the living room. I told him, "Well, come in, then," and left the door open about six inches while I went and got back into bed. He soon followed and snuggled up with me. Usually he falls right to sleep when he does this, and I'm the one who has a hard time sleeping, because he's usually got one of my arms pinned and I toss and turn a lot in bed. And whenever you try and scootch away, to give yourself a little room, he'll close the space by snuggling right back up close to you, even if he's fast asleep. He ends up with almost the entire bed by morning. But last night, he didn't go right to sleep. He just lay there, his eyes huge and dark blue, staring at my face. I told him, "Don't worry. I'll be here all night." I think he relaxed after that. We've always been very close. My last cat, Henry, regarded me as more of a sibling. We loved one another, but it's a different sort of relationship with Merlin now. He sort of views me as a young aunt. Our family structure is very like a lion pride. My mom and I are both cat-souled, and we both entirely agree on this matter. Merlin is the cubling, though he has fits in which he tries to express his dominance by having tantrums. We are the lionesses, my mom the mother and I the aunt with a share in the raising of the cubs. My dad is dog-souled, so he's exempt from this dynamic. He's still part of the family, but I don't think he would understand the pride undertones. Merlin likes to jump on him to hear him say "oof" or sit on him or talk to him sometimes, but they're not pride. It's difficult to explain - there's just not that essential tie that says "we are kindred" there. Anyway, Merlin's feeling a bit better today. He's still a little woozy, because he's still on pain medication for the pulled teeth, but he seems more grounded again.