Today, I found out at Morning Prayer, is John Donne's Day in the Anglican calendar. So we sang the one hymn in the hymnal that was written by Donne: "When thou hast done, thou hast not done, for I have more..." And now I find that I can read Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions online. It's really the kind of reading that you want in book form, for it takes a long time to digest, but I highly recommend Devotions to everyone, especially in times like this time of war -- or really, in any time that reminds one of the latent effects of fear. I read it during the later half of my illness last year, and found it very nourishing.

An example from the Prayer of Chapter 6:

O MOST mighty God, and merciful God, the God of all true sorrow, and true joy too, of all fear, and of all hope too, as thou hast given me a repentance, not to be repented of, so give me, O Lord, a fear, of which I may not be afraid.

Am working on Chapter 10 this morning. It's coming along.

Well, I fiddled with the image some more, and I have more ideas a-comin'.

Yesterday was my last day on the temp job, so I've been enjoying the quiet and freedom. This morning I bought a set of pen and nibs and a bottle of ink, and practiced my calligraphy in my writer's notebook. Yes, that's my handwriting on the masthead image -- stylized of couse; I'd never get anything done if I wrote that way all the time. I'm rather amazed at what a calligraphy pen will do for one's style.

Been doing scene brush-work on Shadow; should have Chapter 10 up by the end of the week.

Oh, and feast-days and lavender creme brulee? Very good combination.

Okay, I'm done futzing for now. Can everybody tell that the image is of a double china inkwell and a glass pen? I have more plans for the background image, but for now, I am just so bloody pleased that I put it up there all by myself that I'm going to bask in the satisfaction of its mere existence on the page.

Today is the Feast of the Annunciation, among other things. May it be to me... I shall relax.

Well, this is just Phase I of my Adventures in CSS. Let me know how it looks from afar!

I Don't Like Mondays, But I Don't Have Plans to Shoot Anyone, At Least Not Yet

To Rivendell last Saturday evening for Evening Prayer and dinner, followed by some lovely thought-provoking discussion of the Gospel reading for this Sunday. Ahhhhhhhh, is all I can say. And I had forgotten how bright and plentiful the stars are when one is in the middle of nowhere, with no light pollution and boundless quiet.

My new definition of Postmodernism: what happens when you look at a piece of culture and ask: "Did they do that on purpose?"

Rebecca has a new and spiffy linkware template. Now I want one. Except that I've been all over surfing and I can't find one that's thematically suited to my blog without being terribly hokey, or ugly. I barely have a handle of HTML code, let alone CSS, so I don't think I can make one myself. There are, however, some very beautiful websets out there; I may think about licensing one for my poor homepage, which still has not got off the ground. Lisa, I think we should blow raspberries on Front Page and do something else.

Have written two more sentences of Chapter 10, bringing the grand total to 2 1/2 pages.

*wibbles*

Writing is hard.

Okay, okay. Go ahead and laugh.



Take the Which Monty Python & The Holy Grail character are you? Test @ The Monty Python & The Holy Grail Unofficial Fan Site

You're Arthur, King of the Britons: you're a noble, dignified sort, and you've had to put up with looney types much too often. Hang in there, and you'll achieve what you're after (um...right?)!

Speaking of Arthur, King of the Britons, for any of my newer readers I now present my 20th-century Literary Theory Midterm of a few years ago. The assignment was to get a number of the theorists we had studied into a conversation about the nature of meaning. But then I got this Idea, and I just couldn't resist -- after all, it was a completion grade, so I had nothing to lose.

*wicked laugh*

A Teeny Tiny Fic Update, Followed by a Long Angsty Essay

For those of you who may be wondering where the heck Chapter 10 is, it got derailed by monumental sickness, my own and my roommate's; wibbling of various types which I won't go into at the moment; and the appearance in my bemused brain of a rather involved Little Rupert story, which may make an appearance after I finish the one I've started. What? No! no, I haven't been working on Little Rupert instead of Shadow. *hides disk behind back*

In other related news, it is now official -- we have not found a Rupert Giles action figure in this town, although we do refuse to search at Wal-Mart. It's pathetic. Jessica suggested we drop a card into the city library's suggestion box, to stock up on Famous Librarian action figures for sale in their boutique at the Library Center. It's not that far a stretch: after all, Tony-as-Giles was on the cover of American Libraries magazine. Unfortunately, I am not sure who else they would use for Famous Librarian action figures: Peter Abelard? Melvil Dewey? Speaking of which, I've decided that the librarian equivalent of going postal is "going Dewey". So if I ever tell you I'm about to go all Dewey on someone's ass, that's what it means. You just don't mess with librarians. Not even ex-library assistants.

Waking Up to Darkness

Last night I awoke to find that the power had gone out in the neighborhood. When I had gone downstairs and borrowed a flashlight, and lit candles near my bed, and when the fancies of terrorist attacks on our electrical grids had passed, I grew sleepy again. The rain had stopped—oh, probably hours ago; the streets outside were mostly dry, I had noted when I looked out my window. On the other side of a stand of trees and roofs, the hospital lights were the only ones shining that I could see; a solitary police car moved silently down our street below, swinging its bright lamp here and there, patrolling. I blew out the candles and went back to bed, and fell asleep in the unaccustomed darkness.

I sleep with a light on, all night. I have always slept with a light on, since I was a small child. I have been taught to be ashamed of it; even when nothing was said, I knew how to divine the pressed-lip impatience, the quick glance away, when I insist on not a night-light but a lamp, on, bright, and still, while I sleep. Less subtle were the exasperated complaints of my sister, with whom I shared a room, and who wanted to sleep when I wanted to read my way past my night-fears. Taught to be ashamed, I have compromised; I have settled for a night-light, or no light at all, when sleeping with others. I pretend to myself that I am comforted by the presence of friendly humanity. I put out of my mind the night I spent afraid of the blackness of my mother’s beautiful hair as she slept facing away from me. She had made her concession to my neediness; surely it was unworthy of me not to feel comforted—to see the darkness of her hair as the stage for some alien and skeletal malevolence that would surely make itself visible at any moment.

At night, whether there is light or darkness, there is always quiet. But the quality of that quiet changes when the light goes out. With the light on, the quiet is self-evident: it waits for nothing: the moments pass and they take nothing, they leave nothing behind. They are scarcely moments at all but a seamless, unmoved, whole; there is the lamp, and there is the room, and there is myself, falling asleep: world without end, amen.

With the light out, however, the quiet changes. It becomes a warped contiguity of waiting. Nothing happens, and then nothing happens, and then again, nothing happens; and I wish it would; and then I fear that I brought it on with wishing, whatever it is. Whatever unpleasant thing it is.

I would say it is worse to wake up in darkness than to go to sleep in it, except that after the first shock wears off, there is a certain matter-of-fact calm that flows in. Well, it’s dark. Now what do I do? When one wakes up in darkness, one skips over the small but monumental step of choosing to place one’s self in the formless hands of the grave.

I leave for work this morning, and I spy on my way out the door that the paper has come in already. It lies on the table in the dim dining room, and it is not at all difficult to make out the huge three-letter word that dominates the headline: WAR.

Well, it’s dark. Now what do I do?

I’m going out in broad daylight to stock up on candles.

Whimpering

I wrote this long eloquent post about human cruelty yesterday, only to have it eaten by Blogger. I'm not finished thinking about the subject, so I'll probably try to post about it again -- and better -- but ye gods, how annoying that was!

Am not even finished with my Mary Sue, and already I have been attacked by a plot bunny (making me feel that Anya is no idiot) -- a Giles story, involving no OCs this time. Yeesh.

Went on a hunt for Jessica's birthday present, a Giles action figure, Sunday evening. Came up with sod-all. Did you know it's easier to find a Three Stooges action figure in this town than it is to find a Giles? What is wrong with this world?

Speaking of things wrong with the world, we are now apparently going to war. I was going to blog about this, and in searching for an etext of C.S. Lewis's "Learning in Wartime" (a fruitless gesture as I know well that Lewis's writings are copyrighted to the hilt), I found this man's article following September 11th, and it mirrors a number of the things that have been simmering in my mind for the last year and a half. The death rate for human beings is still 100 percent; and yet it is the suffering, not the death, that we worry about. Equally do many among us worry about the ugly marks on our soul made by the contentious scratching and clawing and savage backhanding that we must do when we fight for our dignity. As much as I fear in the back of my mind the possibility that our way of life -- and our safety itself -- will be ended, the fear most before my eyes is the ugliness, the hateful rhetoric, the recriminations that must necessarily follow what we are doing. We cannot build a new empire of innocence, and I feel it is utter fatuity to believe that we can. Above all, I fear people being fools.

Because it is so easy.

Here is Chapter 9, just finished and not in the least revised, so please, email me with any glaring faults of style or syntax that you see. Otherwise, enjoy! *evil grin*

Unsurprisingly, I am not the only one around here writing Buffyfic. Jessica is currently writing Buffyfic also, based on a dream she had (how cool is that? she also filks in her sleep, amazing). It's a romance involving Giles and a Melusine-fairy. Former French major that she is, Jessica knows rather a lot about Melusines -- and French swearing. It's going to be a great fic when it's finished. And of course, one of the benefits of rooming with someone writing a Melusine fic is that I get to geek out about the 15th-century manuscripts she has invented for the purpose. Because you know: the way to Giles's heart is through Special Collections. It's also the way to my heart; if somebody gave me a ca. 1400 illuminated manuscript with a lovely pristine, crested and embossed binding, I'd be their slave instantly.

Wore myself out last night, working on Chapter 9. The chess scene went rather well, if I say it myself.

Tonight Tony is on BBCAmerica. T-minus 13 hours and counting. :)

Everybody who a) likes Giles b) likes Tony Head -- and who doesn't? -- and c) has BBCAmerica, watch So Graham Norton this Wednesday evening, for Tony is the guest celebrity on the later show. I've heard a lot about this episode, and can't wait to watch it myself.

*does some cartwheels*

Ta-DAAAAA! Chapter 8, hot off the press.

Have got NOTHING done in the past few days, except to watch Manchild and Good Eats. Oh, and I did make some headway on Chapter 8, but there's a little way to go yet before it's done.

Go look at the new pics of the Rivendell retreat house. I can't wait to go there myself.

My Lenten commitment to no refined sugar is -- well, difficult. One doesn't always want honey instead of chocolate. On the other hand, I think I feel a bit healthier. So what can you do.

Have got ASH's "Owning my mistakes" in my head. Good song, little bit too apropos for me at the moment.

Sigh. More later. Heck, maybe I'll even have Chapter 8 done tonight.

I'm going to celebrate futzing with my color scheme by doing the Friday Five.

1. What was the last song you heard? I woke up to "What can you tell me" by Anthony Head and George Sarah. I've been waking up to that every morning for a while. Before that, I set my sound system timer so that I woke up to "Angeltread" by Sixpence None the Richer. And before that, I think I woke up to "First Suite for Military Band in E-flat" by Gustav Holst.

2. What were the last two movies you saw? In the theatre -- "Chicago" (which ruled) and "Catch Me if You Can" (which was surprisingly good). Check out the soundtracks to these two, they both rock.

3. What were the last three things you purchased? Ummm, tostada nachos at TGI Friday's. Groceries. And I'm blanking on the last one. I've slept a couple times since then.

4. What four things do you need to do this weekend? Get into touch with the communications person at my church. Deposit my check so I can pay my credit card bill. Laundry. And finish Chapter 8 of my Buffyfic.

5. Who are the last five people you talked to? Two coworkers, the custodian, the vending delivery guy, and the head of the music department.

I don't know, this is kinda boring. I guess some people just have more exciting lives.

My eyes are acting up, so I find myself squinting one of them and looking (or so I feel) a bit like John Spencer doing his Jimmy-Cagney-in-a-murderous-mood shtick. Which is not far off my own mood anyway, so I'm going with it.

Chapter 8 is coming along; ETA is Saturday, because I am Mass Mailing Woman at work right now. (Out of the night, in a flooding sheaf of laser printer label sheets, comes the guardian of correct addresses and Microsoft Word 2000 -- SHAZAM!)

Have added a site meter to my blog, so I know whether the number of people visiting my blog is actually equal to the number of times I visit it in a day. Probably not.

I have given up refined sugars for Lent, because it seemed like something that both mattered and would actually be good for me. So instead of coffee with numerous sugar packets, I have switched to green tea. It works. And for desserts I am eating honey on bread. Hey, I didn't say I was going on an Atkins diet. Just cutting out the Ho-Hos. *grin*

At my job, people like me, and I think they think I do good work. This is an improvement in life.

And Some Things Do Eventually Get Rectified

The Vacancy sign that once was pointing across the street toward the cemetery is now pointing properly at the apartment complex it advertises. They seem to have removed the talking Parkay container from the butter case at the grocery store. And Blogger's server is working properly, and the upstairs toilet is clean (thanks to Dad H., not to me), and my Mardi Gras celebration of a large bavarian cream flaky pastry went well.

I'm now officially an Aspirant in the Rivendell Community.

My fic is progressing, a bit slower now, but nicely.

Now if only the grocery store would stock me some Boursin....

Happy Mardi Gras, everyone!

Fic notes for my public: I have revised a spot in Chapter 6 that was not consistent with canon: if you spotted it, good for you; if not, I'm not telling. I have linked all the chapters I've got posted so far. I have plans for chapter titles beyond the story title and chapter number. And I have posted Chapter 7. All I can say is: you have been warned.

For all four of my readers, Chapter 6 of my Mary Sue Buffyfic is now up. It's slightly different in format, because I posted it from home; I'll have to see what I can do about that later.

Now -- *wickedly rubbing hands* -- to write the scene with Giles and Elisabeth in the bar.

Okay. I have now added a reference to "Get Out the Map" by the Indigo Girls to my fic, as a courtesy to Lisa.

When I told Jessica that I had done this, she said she wanted a West Wing reference in the fic as well. Which gave me an idea.

Anyone who wants, write in with a request for an Obscure Reference and I will see what I can do about putting it into my fic. Though I request that the challenge be not too difficult, I look forward to the dares which people may present. I expect some literary and pop cultural brilliance, people. After all, they do it every week in Buffyverse canon.

Let the challenge begin!

*so says the Green Knight, riding out with his head under his arm*