Embryo of Philosophy

Things that are not fun:

School Curse you school, you are the very bane of my existence. Thank you to the people who gave me advice on bullshitting papers for class. I appreciate said advice very much, I assure you.

I have to stop taking seminars. They're interesting, but they are way too much freaking work.

It's cold! Normally, Colorado doesn't let the date determine its weather (70 degree Januaries and frigid late Aprils), but this time it got word that Fall was starting and got cold. I hate it! I can't manage to dress just right. I'm always too hot or too cold. It's supposed to warm up over the weekend though.

So, after much angst, I finished my fic for matrithon. Or so I thought. I thought my prompt was "Hunith: memories." It turns out that it's "Hunith: secrets." Yeah. You know, normally I'm obsessive about checking and rechecking my prompt to make sure I'm doing it right. The one time I don't, this happens.

Well, I still have a few days, and more fic is always good, right? Especially minor character fic.

Still, dagnabbit.

Something that is fun:

springkink is open for claiming. Lots of good prompts! Bleach, Count Cain, Saiyuki, Yami no Matsuei, Merlin, Revolutionary Girl Utena, all the stuff that my flist loves! I've claimed four prompts, which is over my usual self imposed limit of three, but I just couldn't help myself. I'm still tempted to nab a few more of those Riff/Cain prompts. Please do it so that I don't have to.

Now if you'll excuse me, I clearly have fic to write. (And on a deadline!)

The "You Should Write..." Meme!
Veleda_k

Taking a chance that there will be a resounding silence, or, worse, "You really shouldn't write at all."

So, I've finished yet another kink_bingo fic, and, um, I could really use a beta. It's a Count Cain fic, but even if you don't know the fandom and can just search for typos, I'd be grateful. There is graphic sex, so don't volunteer if that will put you off.

Anybody?

First of all, what the fuck, Colorado weather? I've gotten used to the seventy degree January days, and I've realized that it's never more wintry than in late April, but it's nearly June, so these grey, wet days have to stop. Or at least don't go changing it so much. Google weather said it would be seventy one degrees today, so I dressed for that. When I got on the first bus, it was warm. When I got off, it was chilly and windy. I was not alerted to this possibility! It was still chilly when I got on the second bus, but by the time I got off, it was warm again. Oh, Colorado, I will never understand you.

I had a doctor's appointment today, to check on my boobs. It was somewhat of a trek, just because walking still hurts a bit.

On the bus I encountered a wacky conservative Christian whom I had debated last semester at CU. He was quite eager to talk to me. I was trying to write, so I didn't really want to talk to anyone, but especially not a fundamentalist Christian. He was pleasant and polite, certainly. I have no doubt that many fundamentalist Christians are overall quite good-natured, with concern for others. However, this man, however nice he was, thinks that I'm going to hell. He believes that I face endless agonizing torment after death because I like to kiss girls, and because I pray to a goddess and the wrong god. Not only will I suffer unceasingly for eternity, but quite deservedly so. It's hard for me to think of someone who believes that as a truly good person.

However, he spoke about a talk he was going to give at his church about various literary genres in the Bible (didactic, poetic, apocalyptic, etc.), which sounded genuinely fascinating. (I'm a religious studies minor for a reason.) Of course, he's probably one of the people who thinks that the vast number of different genres and literary styles in the Bible prove that it was written by God, rather than offering evidence that it was written by a great number of people over a very long time. But what are you going to do?

Also, I saw a road sign on the way to the doctor's office that gave me pause. It was next to a creek and said "Ice may exist." And, yes, all right, I know what it meant, but it sounds quite existential to me. "Ice may exist. But perhaps it's simply our subjective perceptions telling us that the ice exists. Who can say?"

...Well, I was at least amused.

I did finally make it to the doctor. I'm healing nicely, and she removed most of the steri strips. And now I can shower! Seriously, bathing became a serious chore when I couldn't get my chest wet.

Before, when my breasts were still numb, I expressed concern that it might be the first stage of horrible zombie disease, and that I had zombie tits. My fears were allayed today. No, instead, I have frankenboobs! (I just can't decide if that should be capitalized or not.) They had to cut off my nipples then reattach them, so it's quite gross looking. (That, uh, might have been more than you wanted to know.) But it's only eight days after surgery, so I'm not worried. Plus, the doctor told me that I'm still quite swelled up, and that my breasts should get even smaller. I'm so excited!

Just like I'm oh so certain that you care about the state of my breasts, so I assume that you care about how my writing is going. I've finished one of my springkink stories, and started the other one. These stories are the reason that I've been researching Victorian carriages and trains. Don't laugh, I find it interesting. And my remixthedrabble entry is in beta.

All in all, my life is going well. This scares me. Surely something must go horrible wrong soon. Well, I'm starting my summer class on Monday. That will probably count.

So, as you know, I signed up for remixthedrabble . I was feeling just a little nervous, until a horrible, worst case scenario occurred to me. I can't tell you what it is, it would ruin the anonymity. But I hoped that it would not happen.

You know those stories with twisted genies? Where you make a wish, and it comes true, but in an exact, literal way that is somehow just as bad? Well, that's what happened to me. THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT, UNIVERSE!

The only logical thing to do is to email the mods and explain that I have come down with a rare type of lymph node cancer, and I have decided to spend my few remaining years in Guatemala without internet access.

*SOB* I am so doomed. I will be a horrible disappointment and then ritual suicide will be the only answer.

I have very amusing dreams, which I would love to tell you about, if only I could remember them. They're easy to recall in the first few moments after waking, but they fade in a way that can only be likened to dew, evaporating in the morning sun.

But even more vexing is when I get an idea for a story while lying in bed, or in the hazy mists between sleeping and waking. However, now I only have bits and pieces flitting through my mind. General ideas, snatches of conversation; but I don't know who's saying what or why.

Reading the above two paragraphs, I worry about the fact that I don't even have to work to reach this level of pretension. It just comes naturally.

The list of prompts for December is up at 31_days. They look fantastic. Why is it that this has to be the month filled with inspiration? I have finals! And Yuletide! And other stuff! I've actually already written a Count Cain piece for day nine: "generations of poison, centuries of poison." It's over 1000 words, and I wrote it all today. For me, that's absolutely amazing. I'm a pathetically slow writer, and my stories are normally ridiculously short. I even rather like how it turned out. now I'm just wondering why it couldn't have been my damn Yuletide story, which isn't going nearly so well. In fact, it's not going at all. Argh! Why didn't anyone tell me that this was going to be this hard?

I knew better, you know. I knew that it was going to be a bad idea, signing up for Yuletide. But I thought it looked like fun, and I was tired of being left out. Curse me and my sheep mentality!

Other 31_days ideas (I won't be able to do nearly all of these):

"3) I appeal to your scratches and your tattered fur." I really want to do a Kubota/Tokito story for this one.

"4) making love in the temple." Koumyou/Ukoku fic, yes?

"5) glorious eyes that smile and burn." More Cain fic!

"19) and he chants the hate of a million years." I don't know what yet, but I want to do something with this one.

I actually love and would like to work with just about every prompt there, but those are the ones that really jumped out at me.

I must be boring the non-fandom people so much. Hell, I'm probably boring the fandom people too. I'm sorry!

I just received my Yuletide assignment, and I'm beginning to see the downside of this anonymity thing. See, I'm panicking. And I want to tell you why I'm panicking, so you can panic with me, or reassure me, or just tell me to shut the fuck up. But I can't.

Also, why do "panicked" and "panicking" have "K"s while "panic" doesn't? Seriously, what's with that?

Today was all right, except for the fact that I'm hacking my lungs out. I had to leave my Women in Islam class because I couldn't stop coughing. Loudly. I hate being sick.

Claims are open at both Spring Kink and Sick Fic Fest. All right, yes, claims have been open for a while, and I'm just telling you now. Because I suck. But there are lots of good prompts. So get your kink on, or write about bad awful people doing bad awful things. Or both! Write, damn it! (But, honestly, no pressure.)

Prompts I've taken for Spring Kink:

Godchild, Alexis/Jizabel: punisher/nurturer games - He'll wrap you in his arms, tell you that you been a good boy / He'll rekindle all those dreams it took you a lifetime to destroy (Rough draft is finished.)

Trigun, Vash/Meryl: Scents - "I just can't get him out of my mind." (Started.)


Prompt I've taken for Sick Fic Fest:

Muraki - Only this one holy medium brings me peace of mind (Really looking forward to this one.)

I haven't writing, and I've been depressed about it. Looks I may be back in groove.