Odds and Ends

[red_satin_doll]

Good news: The cable guys came today and hooked up our internet service; we only had two days to wait. So now we're connected again, yay! I hope to be on again more often here - I've missed being here and getting to play. I need the release more than ever.

I just sketched out a rough draft for a post-series Buffy & Faith (and/or Buffy/Faith) fic the other day; I haven't ever written fic about the two of them before allthough I've got plenty of meta notes.  (It's occured to me I should start looking for a beta, and realize for all my experience being one, I have no idea how to ask for one.)

After the housefire, the crying jag, etc I've been thinking about Buffy post-series in ways I hadn't before: What's it like to have your entire world turned upside-down? To lose your home, the things you own, silly stuff that in some ways had come to define you? (Everyone thought I was crazy because I was thrilled that my childhood stuffed koala bear survived intact.) To have to remake-redefine yourself again because the patterns of your life, based on the habits built around the things you owned, the house you lived in, are suddenly no longer there anymore?

I'm familiar with the concept of displacement because I've been moved around many times since my dad died when I was about three yrs old: Mom remarried, then later divorced (and we left the house in the middle of the night); she bought a house and then another later; I went away to college, met my sweetie, moved and moved again. But this housefire is different - we've moved to another apartment but on the same property, we're still sorting through the damaged and destroyed things, betwixt and between if you will. I've tossed out books and antique photos I loved; I can't find anything in this new apartment because it's all still in boxes and bags; I set something down and five minutes later forget where. I did "detail work" today, lining kitchen cabinets, more cleaning and scrubbing of course, trying to find places for things. I'm not a great with organizational skills.  There's no sense of familiarity or rhythms to the way we live yet.

The only thing that feels familiar is the way my sweetie and I communicate - or don't as the case may be. We argue and snipe at each other but we did that before anyway, so nothing new. She says I'm loud, I'm yelling, I'm hyper, etc; I say she's controlling and bossy and is also hyper but doesn't see it. The thing I notice now more than ever is that she says every single thing that comes into her mind. I'm not kidding - it's a constant stream-of-consciousness conversation, and I have to suss out when she's talking aloud to herself and when she's talking to me and expects a response. That's nothing new either but it's more intense now, I think.

The week has been crazy, chaotic - horrible rains on the day we were moving most of our stuff and still a ton left to go. I admit I cursed the deities I don't currently believe in, just for good measure: "Really, God? REALLY? I know you have a sense of humor and all that, and I mean this with all due respect but - Fuck you. Don't take that the wrong way or anything."

But the tarp I'd put up over the tent (all by myself, I'll have you know) withstood the rains and is still standing. *pats self on back*  So there's that at least.

Comments

[red-satin-doll.livejournal.com]

Does yours have a story?

Over ten years ago I was signing up for an internet forum for the first time - a Nicole Kidman fan forum. (I was really loved her work then, and I loved Moulin Rouge.) "RedSatinDoll" popped into my head, and I think it's a play on one of the most famous costumes from the movie - the red satin dress ("smoldering temptress"). http://fashiondressphotos.blogspot.com/2011/08/red-dress-nicole-kidman-in-moulin-roug.html

the funny thing was, it wasn't my favorite costume from the movie but it's the most iconic and the combination of words just seemed right. And I've stuck with it ever since, with the exception of my long-neglected ff.net pseudonym. (I added the spacemarks to the LJ version because other people like beer_good_foamy do but went back to the original form, which I prefer, for A03.)

one of my English teachers said that writing a good paper was not about being right, but rather a good paper had an argument that was well supported by the evidence...but it could be any argument, as long as you could support it. It was a revelation.

Yes, very much so. And god knows I loved the library and loved research, so supporting my arguments was never a problem. A year ago I came across one of my college essay papers and the evidence was fine - it was the argument itself (and some of my conclusions) that made me wince. My self-esteem is a mess but god I came across as so freakin' arrogant. Yet as writers we need some of that (self-esteem and yes, even arrogance) to be able to write at all and believe it's worth letting other people read it.

The thing about songs is that they so often work without actually making sense, they're just like a smorgasbord of imagery and evocative language...

Of course. Instrumental music is an abstract art form - no language but a great deal of meaning(s), emotions, etc. Would Stairway to Heaven be as famous without the guitar licks? When I'm listening to the Moody Blues "Nights in White Satin" or "Tuesday Afternoon" I honestly don't care what the lyrics mean, I'm swept up and carried along by the music. (That was actually one of the propositions of Moulin Rouge - that Baz Luhrmann felt that the only way the heightened emotions could be fully conveyed was via music.)

Oh, the audience helps a lot, actually. For some reason, it was much more nerve-wracking to perform for just the teacher than to perform for the whole class. I really can't figure it out.

Because you felt you were being judged/evaluated? I think it's always more nerve-wracking in those instances. I watched a part of a documentary once about pastry chefs competing for the highest honors in France and some of them were terrified - and these were all very accomplished and experienced people in their field.

[lookingforoctober (from livejournal.com)]

Yeah, I can certainly see why that dress is iconic.

I clearly remember throwing out some old high school and college papers several years ago and now I regret it. Seeing the person you used to be is...disconcerting sometimes, but also tells you things about yourself that you might have forgotten.

Oh, true, so true, sometimes it's hard to have that self-confidence, but it's necessary. And hard.

My college roommate introduced me to the Moody Blues (speaking of college). I always pay attention to the words though...I don't care whether they make sense, but there's nothing that will turn me off of a song quicker than not being able to understand the words.

Probably. Actually, I think the instructor set it up that way. Everyone in the class was friendly with each other, and the instructor did a lot to help us bond and trust each other, but the instructor held back from that a bit, so he was a bit intimidating just because of not being quite as much of a known quantity.

[red-satin-doll.livejournal.com]

but the instructor held back from that a bit, so he was a bit intimidating just because of not being quite as much of a known quantity.

I had quite a few professors with that quality; for some people it's probably a necessity in terms of remaining professional (or maybe that's just their nature anyway?) But it is intimidating, in the same way that performing or speaking to an audience and not being able to hear or see clues re: how they're receiving you or reacting can be. (it took me a while to learn that silence from an audience during the performance of a drama is a sign that they are focused on you. It's disconcerting, but noises from the auditorium would actually signal lack of interest. With comedy though, it's the opposite.)

BTW - could you PM me your email so I can send you any fic for looking over? thanks