Day to Day

I started keeping a day log, just writing down what I did and what happened to me each day. It’s interesting; I seem to forget what happens if I don’t write it down. This way, it helps sort things out, and makes it easier to remember all the good times I’m having.

It’s a physical book, with a page for each day (with a date and everything, so it’s official!).

Notables of today are: D&D all afternoon, a HUGE moon, and a *new* mattress. I am looking so, so forward to sleep tonight. Here’s hoping it’s awesome!

But for now, more of the Felix Castor series, which I am thoroughly enjoying.

A Strange Sort of Mourning

I’ve only recently become aware of a strange sort of mourning.

When you find out someone you admire is dead, and you realize they won’t make anything new, and you won’t ever get to meet them, it’s an interesting, melancholic, deep sadness that wells up in your chest.

With long dead people it’s different; you know they’re gone from the get-go.  You’re entering into a relationship with known boundaries.  Chopin, Coleridge, Donne- I’m looking at you.  You make them a part of you, knowing what you’re in for.

But then when you find a new artist, author, or musician that’s contemporary, or timeless, and you don’t know they’re dead, it can come as an unexpected loss.

Some part of me always wants to tell the people I admire how I feel about them.  With celebrities it’s sort of silly, and has never really amounted to anything (except a few gushing messages to a few of my favourite authors- but that’s perhaps more of a professional crush).  With people in real life, I try and let them know.  I’ve sent letters to teachers telling them how much of an influence they’ve had on my life, and how glad I was to have crossed paths with them.  It’s important to me that people know when they’re admired and loved.

When you didn’t know someone is dead, and can’t tell them all the nice things you want to say, it comes as a sort of betrayal. Suddenly the perimeters of the relationship change, and it becomes a one-way conversation that will never be reciprocated.

I’ve never met Stan Rogers, but I’ve been enjoying his music for about a year now (I got hooked when I saw this video; just a few Canadian guys sitting ’round the dinner table, right?) and have bought his albums and learned his great songs.  When I learned that he had died, age 33, in 1983, before I was even born, I felt this longing, this… regret, that has been sloshing around in my heart since then.

And I find myself going through the stages of loss and grief.

It began with not believing the thumbnail on a YouTube tribute video I saw out of the corner of my eye.

Then anger, anger at the plane fire which killed a talented young man.

It’s interesting going through this next stage (bargaining) with someone you don’t know (and I’m not sure how I’m expressing that one, actually).

The depression stage hit me strongly today, when “The Northwest Passage” came on my iPod as I was walking home.  I’ve listened to that song many times, often belting along to it while I threaded in the projection booth; but today was the first time I heard it since I found out-

And at the same time, there’s been this acceptance that’s started to sink in.  With it has come a sense of calm, admiration, wonder, and inspiration.  Even though I’ll never be able to tell him, even though his work is a contained body of music that will never be added to, even though he’s gone forever, I feel like it’s ok.

Because I have his music, and that was what I loved about him.  I can still have a one way conversation with him.  Now that I know how our relationship works, I’m ok with it.

Rest in peace, Stan, and thanks for leaving me such wonderful music.

Pleased but also terrified

That moment when you wake up from a nightmare you were having and realize you were dreaming about something you wrote- oh gosh.

I was hunting a Trook, the Big Bad from my two-books-completed young adult fantasy series.  Holy smokes it was scary.  I was Bazzil, hunting it through a house, with people, who may or may not have been Bazzil’s entourage from me second book, backing me up as I stalked through dark hallways.

Around a corner: a Trook!  Only it was more like a Ring Wraith.  It wielded a sword I recognized- Bilbo’s Sting, and stabbed me quite deeply.  I fought back, though my own sword, Rending, was strangely long and bendy.  I stabbed a few times to fight off my attacker, but my sword was too bendy and wonky.  Sting was hard and exacting as it thrust towards me…

Wow, I don’t read much into dreams, but it’s very rare I dream of weapons and violence.  And the collision of Tolkien’s work and my own in the dream world was quite interesting to experience.

I quite enjoyed my read through of my first book.  It stood up well to the test of time.  Now onto my second, and we’ll see how it flows from one to the next.

But for now, I must finished my “Werewolves be bad, yo” short story.  Deadline looms.

Thanks for reading.

Heidi out.

What I Did on Blackout Day: A Pocket Full of Links

I’m sure Reddit will be inundated with posts about the blackout.

F7U12 will be full of blackout related comics.

Pics will be full of blanket forts and other things made out of boredom to fill the gap that is usually so well filled by Reddit.

(And Amy: I wrote this before you told the world that you made a blanket fort during the blackout- how awesome is that?)

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; it just means that, for some people, the one day blackout is actually more like a two day blackout (one actual blackout day, then one day of blackout posts).

This post is not about what I did on blackout day.

Well ok, it’s actually exactly that.

But hey, want to see what I did on blackout day?  Because I was sick and it was still a good day.  This post is full of delicious links to videos, pictures, and various other media.  It’s a journey.  If you want something to do, check out all this cool stuff.

I woke up sick.  It was snowing.  My man went to work.  I bundled up in many layers and planted myself in front of my laptop at my kitchen table.  Ugh, sick.  Cancelled plans to go see a movie I’ve been looking forward to.

Relatedly, I’ve been trying to coin a term to describe having a crush on someone without knowing what they look like.  But not a lusty crush.  Well ok, lusty, but not lusting after their bodies- like, like lusting after their delicious, sexy brains. Cronenberg (see above).  Fincher. Cuarón. I have crushes on a ton of brilliant people, but it’s like a brain-crush, where I love their brain and how it works and everything they make.

Brain-crush?  Hmm, needs more work.  Maybe when I’m not sick it will come to me.

What better way to feel better than to let the pleasing antics of Simon and Lewis lull me into satisfying state of amusement?  Their Minecraft golf episode did the trick while I made coffee in my new Aeropress.

Then, I decided to do my part and learn more about SOPA/PIPA.

I made a FB post about it to try and get others to learn more too: “Stop SOPA/PIPA! I hope the Blackout today will get people to call and write their congresspeople to prevent this terrible, terrible bill from going forward. Would you like to know more? http://vimeo.com/31100268

Then I was amused at myself for my Starship Troopers reference and decided to see what came up on YouTube when I searched for “Would you like to know more?”

Consequently, I learned more about Belgium.)  Amusing.

Then I put on slippers.  My apartment is cold.  Went and found my cat (see previous picture) actually no, see THIS) picture.  Echo tells the best jokes.

I decided that it was actually a good idea to make something to eat.  Something warm and mushy and tasty.  Steel cut oats.)

My mother in law phoned and offered to bring over her plug in heater.  I readily agreed.

I tried to find a gif of this hilarious dancing Russian, and was instead amused at Google’s ‘did you mean’ racism…

But it led me to this), which is just about the most awesome thing I could have found.

My oats were finally ready, and they were delicious.  Extra butter.  Cream, vanilla, cinnamon, brown sugar.  Yes.  Yes, good.  I ate them while looking at gifs.

From there things were just starting to get silly.

So I opened my new Minecraft world (“Flatopia”) and proceeded to try and make a safe area to grow crops in.  Damn slimes.  SLIMES EVERYWHERE.

Aaaan, that’s it!  Once I got into Minecraft the day was Minecraft from here to eternity.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the links.  It was fun making this.

Thanks for reading.

Heidi out.