pearls from a dry sea

So it may have become obvious to you that I don't really use this journal.  Like at all.

I fail at blogging.  I have a box full of diaries and journals in my shed with, like, one page filled out in each.  I like the idea of writing down my life, but then I don't actually do it.

However, since I've begun posting the fic I've been writing for years, I realize I still need my LJ so I'll have a name.  So, for any of you lovely people who happen to have read one of my stories (thank you, you're awesome!) and wandered over to my page, that's why it is made of lame.

It may be that one day I'll feel like writing about myself again, or perhaps about the awesome job that I have, because it is really awesome and I love it, and how many people can actually say that in this day and age?  Or maybe I won't, and I'll just be that reclusive fanfic writer that no one knows anything about.

Either way, you can find all my fanfiction over at The Sparkhouse where it shares a home with my beloved cold_poet 's fic.  Funny thing about that, years ago she and I shared a house together on a street called Sparkman, a little decrepit hole-in-the-wall that was haunted by both a murder and a suicide, and when we were handed the keys to the place there was a keychain labeling them with a handwritten tag scrawled with "Spark House."

We loved it there, in spite of or because of the ghosts, the perpetually backed-up bathtub, the ghetto location, the really cheap booze, reading fanfic aloud on the porch at 3 am, and the naked backyard birthday parties.  Ah, youth.

When deciding what our fiction community would be called, it obviously had to be 'Sparkhouse.'

So there you go, if you've read this far I commend you and hope you find a cure for your boredom soon.  Go read some fic.  :)

Things continue to be good here, especially since discovering the wonderful world of webcam so I can play virtual tea party with Ellie, the world's cutest 2 year old, even though she is thousands of miles away.  Technology can be beautiful.

I'm off for a weekend in Pennsylvania, staying in a haunted hotel with the Young Man while he has a business meeting, then off to New York to visit his mom and sister.  I've never been to either state, so yay!  And I will be taking many balls of yarn with me, since Ellie has requested a pink baby dragon for her very own.  She cannot be denied.

Maybe I will see a ghost in this haunted hotel, and get some inspiration for some SPN fic...this will excite ColdPoet, I'm sure...

It has been brought to my attention that since my move to the east coast to be with My Young Man I have been remiss in giving friends and family updates.  Some of you have speculated that in fact my bones lie mouldering in My Young Man's closet, along with those of my Evil Nemesis Kitty.  Rest assured, I yet live.

I'm not good at this LJ thing, or really at keeping in touch at all, obviously, but I will do my best to keep up with weekly or so updates so that you all don't worry about me. 

It's very nice out here, very pretty trees and such.  We have a lovely apartment, with a balcony three stories up which Evil Nemesis Kitty likes to lounge on and watch fireflies around the trees in the evenings.  He has his very own chair.

I'm not working retail, which is perhaps the most wonderful thing ever.  My feet love me.  For now I'm working very hard on my crafts, mostly crochet right now.  I'm developing an amigurumi pattern (for those of you who don't know, that means little crocheted doll) for little baby dragons, which I hope to sell eventually.  I'm also working on afghan patterns and hats and things, because I'm craft-ADD.  My Young Man even caught the craft bug (how could he not, with the couch and coffee table covered in yarn) and taught himself to knit a very manly scarf and hat set for the cold months.

I'm very boring, but not bored.  I am finding the Zen garden in my mind, and plan to rake sand circles for a while.

Why do I feel icky and wrong, you ask? Because I think I sold lingerie to a pedophile today. ( Collapse )

Why do I attract all the weirdos? Is it too much to ask to sell lingerie to well-adjusted, pleasant men and women, who aren't creepy, and who don't ask if I'll try the lingerie on for them, or what my favorite outfit is that I own, or exactly how to wear crotchless panties (because after all, how much explanation is really needed for the proper usage of the crotchless panty, I ask you?).

More work ranting later. Maybe I'll tell about the creepy guy who likes to call our store and talk about amputated limbs. I love my job, I love my job, I love my job...

Hmm. This may prove harder than I first thought. Can find the hard copies (ie actually dusty stacks of paper) of most of my fanfic, but, uh...of the contents of my hard drive? Not so much.

I'm wearily contemplating the task of retyping all the frickin million stories I have from paper to screen, and my fingers cramp and my eyes blur just thinking about it. But hey, I guess this could be a good thing. I could force me to edit some of my truly old and unforgivable crap as I go, or simply decide that most of it isn't worth the effort, and write some new crap.

Sigh. Maybe I'll find some of those things I used to use back in the day, what were they called again? Disks? Yeah, disks. Maybe some of those will still work, and maybe there will be stories on them that are edit worthy.

Hey, a girl can dream, right?

Okay, so here's me. Coldpoet, I hope you're happy now, I've joined the masses in their obsession with LJ. The sister just wandered in, rolling her eyes and groaning about how now she'll really never see me, and how I'll really never get any sleep now.

Couldn't really argue with her. :)

I think I'll work on getting some of my older fanfic posted here, seeing as how most of it has never seen the light of day--or internet--and will just continue to languish on my hard drive if I don't dust them off and offer them up. I mean, what the hell did I write them for, anyway?

So...my pearls will be forthcoming, though I don't offer any guarantees that there will be much wisdom in them. But some of them are shiny and pretty, and some of them are dark and pretty, and maybe when strung all together they make something worthwhile.

Off I go to start some dusting...