What do I name him?

Edit April 2014:  I realized that I did not update this when names were decided upon.  I give you Jericho Ryan Moran (which in my head means he is distantly related to Moriarty's right hand sniper).  And the town of Aurelia.  I kept calling the town that in my head and decided to stop fighting it.  Oregon already has an Azalea and Aurora, why not an Aurelia? 

So.  This is Robyn's future boyfriend.  I need help deciding on his name.  Input please! 
He is Henry’s second-in-command/business protege.  (Henry being the current leader of the family who has owned the town for a very long time.  Strong, silent, and more than a little scary type.)  He gets lots of face time with his boss’ artist-of-choice.  He falls for her before she falls for him.  Smart, quiet, tough.  Was a two years ahead of Robyn in school.  Lone wolf sort. 

Last name: Moran or Holmes

My favorite names for him:  Jericho, Jeremiah, James, Jace, Gaven, Gareth  (he's very much a J or G)
Also possible:  Blake, Gaddiel, Gamaliel, Gevram, Jesse, Jethro, Tristan

I could also use help deciding on the name of the town.  Ideas I've come up with: Hazgrove?  Cosgrove?  Silver Grove?  Rock Grove?  Stone Grove?  Rockstand?

Description:  A small town that is a combination of Maine/ Michigan/ Storybrooke/ Washington/ Oregon.  Mining, lumber, and fish have each been an important part of the town’s history as it is surrounded by a lake, forest and a natural cave system (in which Robyn got lost as a child).  Founded by the Sterne family in the distant past.  The mayor may be the elected figurehead and take care of the federal/day to day matters but in many ways the head of the Sterne family runs the town.

Day 34 - Sorrowful piano paté

February 3 - Write about "The instrument of the sorrowful" after Stéphane Mallarme

     Loaded question that, asking this of a musician and singer.  The top three sorrowful instruments, or instruments I would and have used to convey sorrow are the violin, the flute, and the human voice.
     April 24, 2007 was the Virginia Tech massacre.  I was a junior in high school.  The next morning I attended my music composition class and tried to wrap my brain around what I was going to compose with so much sorrow in my heart on such a grey and rainy day.  I came up with a incomplete piece with two harps and a flute.  As I was composing though (just as with my No One Mortal poem) I realized that I have a hope that not many do, thus there is an uplifting transition.  (If I could figure out how to upload a copy of it I would)
     I remember being struck by the poignant, sorrowful, mourning wail sung a cappela by Rafiki when we saw it in Portland.  The human voice carries so much weight and emotion, as it should.  Some of the emotionally powerful songs are those with only one instrument, be it voice, piano, violin, or flute.

     My Top 20 Saddest Songs Playlist (in no particular order)

1. When Somebody Loved Me - Toy Story  - A song about loss and growing up and apart.  While I may find the first two movies annoying over all due to my brother's constant viewing this song has always got to me and made.
2. Cats in the Cradle - Harry Chapin  - Another song about growing up and apart.  The first of two songs on the list that, if my dad is in the room, prompts a radio change.  He and I both find it heartbreaking.  I want to weep for father and son who both missed so much of each other's life.  I can't understand families that disconnected.
3. In the Ghetto - Elvis  - The second song that prompts a radio change/song skip if my dad is in the room.  It hurts to hear about lives of such despair.  And when the video adds the Outsiders to the mix it becomes all the more poignant.
4. Learn to Be Lonely - The Phantom of the Opera 2004 (Minnie Driver)  The song speaks for itself.  In a way it reminds me of Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale.
5. Danse Mon Esmeralda - Notre Dame de Paris  - You don't have to speak French to feel Garou/Quasimodo's anguish over Esmeralda's death and his wish that she would arise to dance and sing as she did in life.  And if you haven't watched Notre Dame de Paris, I suggest doing so.
6. Javert's Suicide - Les Miserables 10th Anniversary  - There is no Javert like Philip Quast and no more tortured character than Javert.  As a Police Inspector who has raised himself from being raised in the prisons he has a very black and white view of the world and when Valjean shatters the code he has clung to for so long Javert's whole world is turned upside down and inside out.  "And must I now begin to doubt, who never doubted all these years?  My heart is stone and still it trembles; the world I have known is lost in shadow."  His final note never fails to give me chills!!
7. That Lonesome Road - James Taylor  - Looking back on all the paths not taken and opportunities missed.  We sang this as our senior song in high school.  I'm not sure how I made it through the performance, it is so depressing!  Also, very hard to find a good choral version, anywhere.  The song as sung by James Taylor and his studio singers is also very pretty but the choral version has more meaning to me.  "Never run feeling sorry for yourself, it doesn't save you from your troubled mind."
8. The Last Unicorn - Kenny Loggins  - This song always bothered me as a child because I don't deal well with changes and ending and finality and it continues to make me very sad.  "When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain, and the last lion roars at the last dusty fountain" ... "when the last moon is cast over the last star of morning, and the future has passed without even a last, desperate warning."
9. Tristan and Isolt - Heather Dale  - "It was white as angels' raiments but when feebly he begged her, fairest Blanchmane softly said, "Tis of night."  Who can say which venom stole the soul from Tristan's body and the bells began their tolling as Isolt ran up the sand."  So close and yet so far!  The thoughts of what could have been.
10. Pity the Child - Chess (Colm Wilkinson)  - Dysfunctional families who miss out on the genius that is their child.   I hate it.
11. What'll I Do? - Irving Berlin (Frank Sinatra)  - The only solo I ever had and boy howdy did I mean every line I sung in this song.  It was my senior year and I was dreading being separated from my friends, especially the boy I was crushing on.  I invited my friends to come and honestly I am still a little bitter they didn't come, but life moves on and so must I.  This really should be sung by a female voice but Frankie sounds lovely.
12. Les Miserables Finale - 10th Anniversary and 2012 cast  - The end of Valjean's life, where he is told that all the good he has done in his life will be rewarded.  I don't agree that it is heaven where he will gain his reward but the thought of him at peace, in a place without pain, and Fantine happy, is so touching.  This song didn't truly get to me until the epic visualization in the 2012 movie and Anne Hathaway makes an amazing Fantine!  Plus it has Colm Wilkinson being the lovely old, comforting man that he is and can be.  "And remember the truth that once was spoken, to love another person is to see the face of God."  If only they had included Javert in the finale of the movie!
13. Love Never Dies Finale - Andrew Lloyd Webber - Erik and Christine reconcile and he finds out he has a son and then THIS!!!!  The child's scream twists my heart every time.  I had listened to the music and was swept away by the genius but then I watched the movie.  And sobbed those body shaking sobs that are reserved for someone you truly love for two hours.  Of course I was alone, housesitting where, the time before, I had gotten the news that we had to put down our dog Sam, and had just gotten the news that one of my friends had to put down his ferret.  I was kinda maybe emotional to begin with but I had never responded to a movie like that.  After these last two my sister says I'm not allowed to watch musicals anymore.  :)
14. If I Can't Love Her - The Beauty and the Beast Broadway   - The longing!  The despair!  Oh Adam/Beast, let me hug you!  I realize I'm not Belle but I love you like a sister!  "No pain could be deeper, no life could be cheaper."
15. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again - The Phantom of the Opera  - A daughter mourning the loss of her beloved father.  How could it not get to me?  "Somtimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here.  Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would.  Dreaming of you'd help me to do all that you dreamed I could.  Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem for you the wrong companions, you were warm and gentle."
16. You'll Never Walk Alone - Carousel  - Saying final goodbyes and hopes for the future.  But ultimately the music is so sad!
17. Your Daddy's Son - Audrey McDonald  - I didn't realize what the last line said until the last time I listened to it but it only adds to the heartwrenchingness.
18. On My Own - Les Miserables  - Poor Eponine!  I feel like her sometimes, only more, everyone is friends, why can't I join in?  "The city goes to bed and I can live inside my head.  On my own, pretending he's beside me." "In the darkness the trees are full of starlight."  "And I know it only inside my mind, I am talking to myself."  "Without me his world will go on turning, his life is full of happiness that I have never known."
19. Endless Night - The Lion King Broadway  - The bitterness and loneliness!  A longing for something better!  I love Tim Rice.  He writes awesome lyrics (Chess, Evita, Beauty and the Beast, Road to El Dorado.)
20. For Good - Wicked  - I would love to perform this song someday.  And that is all I can say.

     The playlist I made on YouTube, which you can find here, is an hour and a half long!  Some songs may dislike being in a playlist so you may have to listen to them separately, should you chose to listen at all.
     *** All lyrics belong to their composers.  I have no ownership over them. *** 

 Day 34 - The Duck or the Paté?

    "Wanting to meet an author because you like his work is like wanting to meet a duck because you like his paté." ~ Margaret Atwood
    Hold the phone!  Authors don't die when they present their work or write!  You at least have a chance to meet a whole, living being!
    That being said, I can understand how awkward it might be to meet any celebrity, be they author or actor.  As a fan you will be familiar with their fictional lives and what little may be in the dust jackets or their Wikipedia page and as such have a mental image of who and what they are but in reality you know nothing about their inner person, and you are unlikely to on a first (and likely only) meeting.  Also, while you feel a connection to them, they feel none to you, have no background to go on with you.

Day 33 - Diving through the crack in the door

February 2 - Through the crack in the door

     The first knowledge awareness brought her was pain.  Her face throbbed, her ribs ached (and not in the 'I've been laughing' way), and her knuckles complained that she had fought without gloves.  As the first awareness of pain faded into the background, painting the first stage of the picture, coldness made itself known.  A damp cold that, while not terribly painful, was certainly uncomfortable, especially when the breeze came.  A fishy, rotten, salty, waterlogged wood carrying breeze.  Opening her eyes, she was not surprised to find wood beneath her face, dark with water, timbers and fibers separating after long exposure to salty air and much use, the cracks encrusted with dirt, sand, and bits of seaweed.  Too trained to groan but too human to avoid a hiss she moved her head, taking in more of her surroundings.  The wooden floor she was on apparently was part of the loading dock to and abandoned cannery, she could see the concrete walls nearby, the company's logo mostly faded, only the impression of a crab left.  Parts of the floor had crumbled and she could glimpse water seething below.  Slowly she began to haul herself to her feet.  Why hadn't they bound her?  Did they think she couldn't escape as sore as she was?  A split lip, black eye, cracked ribs, and swollen knuckles weren't going to stop her.  The sprained ankle might slow her down though.  Ow.  The door, like the floor, was waterlogged and splitting, making it easy for her to peer out through a gap in the wood.  Her eye met with a snuffling nose.  Jerking her head back in surprise she almost laughed.  Did they leave these dogs here to guard her?  They didn't know who they were dealing with.  Nearly cooing to the dogs she set to work.

     The opening for this, in my head, was black and the pieces of her awareness literally started in the forefront then zoomed out until they were in the background or each bit of information was a different color until the whole thing was filled in.  And the dogs were Doberman Pincers.

Day 33 - Diving, Not Drowning

     I am glad I don't really have any traumas or grief in my past, though sometimes I wish I did.  My life is too perfect/average/good to write.  :)

What a weekend!

Hi guys and gals!
     Sorry I don't have anything for you right now, I am getting ready for a last minute housesitting/catsitting job.  And I have to pack all my clothes and accessories and makeup to wear to the open house and dedication of our new Kingdom Hall!  Sometimes I am such a girl!  ^_^  It will be so exciting to see and be a part of!  There is internet where I am going so I hope to get some writing to you guys tonight, when I can sit down.  :)
- Leandra

Day 32 - Improv when your button is undone

February 1 - Her button was undone

HIS button is undone!!  ^_^

     Rayella was startled to feel a bit of a breeze on the underside of her breasts and blushed twenty shades of crimson when she looked down.  The thrice accursed button had undone itself, again!  Gritting her teeth she drew her apron up, finished taking the order of the man at the counter and excused herself.  She couldn't believe it!  The shirt had a mind of its own!  Most times she wore the white button up, identical to two others she owned, it behaved itself, remaining buttoned and modest all day.  And then there were days like this.  The fourth button from the top refused to stay.  Rummaging in her purse Rae found a safety pin (by jabbing her finger on it) at the very bottom then stepped into the staff bathroom to begin the wrestling process necessary to secure her shirt without making it obvious or creating more of a gap.  Why didn't she listen to herself this morning when she thought it would be a good idea to wear a cami?  For the love of everything holy!  It was one of those days.  She couldn't say everything was going wrong, and really, some nice things had happened, but just enough stuff like this was happening to make her consider crawling in bed and hiding under the covers for the next two days.  At the very least it was an ice cream and movie night.  Wait.  With the way things have been going, nothing that could spill.  Did she have a sippy cup in the house?  That's it, a no spill water bottle (contents open for discussion), the pre-cut cheese, meat, and crackers in her fridge (no way was she touching a knife) and Darcy.  Sigh.  Now to hope her shirt survived the next three hours.

     It was really hard to start this prompt but I am very pleased with the way it went.  And I am sure ladies out there know how Rayella felt about the shirt!  I do!  And who else has had days like that?  Not really bad enough to really complain but you are a clutz and everything you can do wrong or stupid, you will?  I've been having more of those lately.  Hopefully as the weather improves, so will my coordination.

Day 32 - Improvisation

     Writing is like an actor's improv, you begin and "characters bloom, plots come out of thin air."
     Speaking of actors, who has seen Improv Everywhere?  They are the ones behind the famous Grand Central Station Freeze, the Food Court Musicals, and the No Pants Subway Rides.  My favorite missions though (as they call each prank) are: Free High Fives - it brings such joy to the commuters; the MP3 experiments - it is one of my lifegoals to be in NY for one of these!!!!!; the surprise wedding reception - they throw an impromptu wedding reception for a couple married at city hall, complete with brides maids, groomsmen, a cake and music, it was so sweet and kind and made people so happy; and Welcome Home - they greet complete strangers flying into the local airport!
     Click on the name of any mission to be taken to their page with the video, synopsis, and reactions.

Day 31 - Whispered dreams

August 31 - They're talking in whispers

     They are a handsome couple as they sweep the floor to a waltz and none of those watching would deny it, though they may protect in the same breath that the pair was very odd indeed.  Why a man such as he would deign to dance with a lass such as she, well, they simply could not supposed.  Wasn't the look in his eye that of love?  Well!  They wouldn't dare assume!  He, after all, was a terribly rich and private person, who knew what one such as he thought.  He certainly wasn't the kind to display such feelings.

     Is it Elizabeth and Darcy?  Belle and Mr. Gold?  Anne and Wentworth?  I have no idea.  I have been on such an Austen/Pride and Prejudice kick lately.  ^_^  No matter who is dancing, all the ladies are in floofy dresses and the men are in suits and cravats and are terribly dashing!  And those whispering are doing so behind fans.  
     I got lost wandering the web looking at pictures of those pairings (even though I already had the Darcys), which is why this post is a little late.  :)  I used the 'newer' Wentworth rather than Cirian Hinds because Cirian looked ridiculous in all the pictures I could find of him.

Day 31 - Dreaming Your Ship

     How much of my work is autobiographical?  Well ... most of my main characters are auburn, have younger siblings, age as I do ... physically they do resemble me but that is about where it ends, which is part of the point Ms. A makes by quoting John Cheever.  "As you dream your ship, you perhaps know the boat, but you're going toward a coast that's quite strange, you're wearing strange clothes, the language you don't understand, but the woman on your left is your wife."
     Most authors include some aspect of their life in their work I imagine, some more transparently than others.

Library of Lurve

     Today marks the third time I have been asked out at the library!  lol!  I love it.  Is it because I am more relaxed?  Or because being at the library makes me so happy?  Or does being in a library, filled with heroes, make the darling geeks (smart but shy/slightly socially awkward/science fiction loving guys) bolder?  ^_^  Such a confidence boost, even as I am scrambling to tactfully say no thank you to lunch/coffee/dinner etc.

Day 30 - Writing project boxes!!!!

August 30 - Write what came first

The chicken or the egg?
The goose or the gander?
The fiddle or the violin?
The monkey or the banana?
Yes or no?
Adam before Eve
Perfection before sin
The flora before the fauna
And the fauna before the man

     I cannot believe this prompt came so quickly after the article in the other book!  Hilarious!  I feel like I've been asked this question before.  :)

Day 30 - Out of the Box

     Four authors (Spalding Gray, Twyla Tharp, Sherman Alexie, and Jennie Nash) are discussed, who all use boxes to organize their craft, filling a box with "art, photos, research, CDs, news clippings, ... drafts, story ideas, ... jokes" that are related to their memoirs, dance, or writing project.  What a brilliant idea!
     My bigger and older projects (Rae, Lori, Senya) have binders filled with printed and hand written sections of writing, character profiles, research, quotes, pictures that inspire, location references, outfit ideas, and doodles.  Newer, smaller projects (Sam, Robyn, Leona, Z) have folders and folders on my computer (I would die if it did) with pictures of current characters, characters I want to include, locations, outfits, and objects that make me think of the story/character.  Online, which is where I store 95% of my writing now, I have the actual writing, brief character profiles of all those involved, an in depth profile of my MC, and usually a page/doc devoted to related links, references, quotes, or plot bunnies.  And don't get me started on the playlists I have all over!  Windows Media Player, Spotify, YouTube!  Oh my!
     I've bought trinkets that remind me of characters or stories but they don't have 'homes' per se (they don't fit in a binder or online) so they clutter up my desk and window sill, but having a box would solve that.  I see a JoAnns run in my future!  Yay!

Day 29 - Putting the forbidden first

August 29 - Write what is forbidden

Vorboden

You can't do that,

Don't bite your sister,

It is forbidden

Say "pain" in the hospital?

Speak in the library above a whisper?

You can't do that.

Don't go in your parents' room

Don't go in the dragon's lair

It is forbidden.

Cheat on that test?

Scare your mother?

You can't do that!

Don't ask a lady her age,

Don't ask a man his religion,

It is forbidden.

Don't question tradition,

Don't say God's name,

You can't do that,

It is forbidden.

-----

Potty talk (bodily functions)
Politics
Sexual orientation
Pulling sister's hair
Layoffs - 'the left the company'
Co-worker's salary
Making your own fireplaces (Dad as kid)
13th floor
Mine shaft
Medicine cabinet
Buying your own car before graduating high school (Dad)
Dad scaring/jumping out at Mom
Asking a lady her age/weight
Stupid prejudices - 'tradition'
Drag races
British man's voice
Gandalf - 'you shall not pass!'

     This was really interesting.  I decided to get some input from my family on what they thought of when they heard 'it is forbidden'.  Most of their responses (see list above) were very serious or work related, whereas I had though of lighter things like whispering in the library, pulling a sibling's hair, or a giant 'Do Not Enter' sign on a mine shaft.  To draw out more of what I was looking for, I asked what things they remember being forbidden as a child and my dad immediately came up with being forbidden to make his own fireplaces, even if he was using firebrick.  I laughed so hard!!  It illustrates his personality so well, being independent, an engineer, and willing to try things a little dangerous with safety protocols in place, and speaks to why he won't tell us about his childhood until we are twenty-one, and hopefully past the point of copying him!  My sister heard a British man's voice, like Gandalf saying "You. Shall. Not. Pass!" and my brother had an immediate, negative reaction, the word bringing to mind stupid prejudices and unreasonable minds.

Day 29 - First Things First

     The first step in a novel or story can be the hardest, the first step in to infinity, when you can't see the rest of the steps.  No matter how much planning you put into a story, you have no idea how it will truly turn out until you actually begin to write, alternately swept along with or dragging along your characters into the void.  There are those who begin writing at the beginning, those who begin at the end, and those who begin somewhere in between, but no matter where you begin, no matter what the project, that first leap is the hardest.

     I wanted to include a picture of mossy/ivy strewn stairs disappearing into fog but I couldn't find any that worked!  The pictures were either from the bottom of the stairs looking up, or the stairs from across the way, or stairs that you literally stopped in the middle of nowhere.  No pictures from the top of the stairs, looking down.  I guess I'll just have to go to the Japanese Gardens some evening and snap some pictures of my own.

Torn toenails and sticky spaces

Hey everybody!  The poem for today is taking longer than expected to come together so it will show up tomorrow.
In other news, I spilled Sprite+peach sorbet on my laptop so adding spaces is really hard... need to clean it!
And my mother tore her toenail off so part of today was spent taking her to a Bowenwork appt (which was great because I got to get my headache taken care of).

Day 28 - Jellicles and our other furry friends

August 28 - He called you by your real name

     Coricopat's ears laid flat on his head as his tail bushed and he bared his teeth at the man.
     "He called you by you real name!" he hissed to his sister.  Tantomile simply smiled enigmatically.
     "Yes," she purred, rubbing her head along the outstretched hand.
     *He?  I am offended,* a feminine voice echoed in his head.  *I am glad to know the disguise is effective but really?*
      Cori's eyes crossed as two battling waves hit him.  On one side was his Jellicle self, screaming that this was a human and they were neither telepathic nor able to see their Jellicle forms as he and his sister were in right now.  The other was his animal/cat side telling him that this was a very powerful force that he needed to bow to and love and obey and follow.  Normally his sides dwelt in harmony, the instinctive feral cat and intelligent cerebral Jellicle making up the overall fabric of his being, never before had he felt so torn.  His instincts were trying to tell him something and he quieted his mind to hear the tiny voice.  It came across in bold, capital, bedazzled letters.  GUARDIAN!  This was the being chosen to protect animals, his rational side interpreted, and deserved the obedience of a pack/tribe leader.
     *Very good [             ].*
     Coricopat flinched.  No one ever spoke a Jellicle's Third Name except extremely close mates or siblings.  It was a part of their self-identity, of their soul and it felt like she, for he now knew it was a woman, was poking his life force with a stick.  Only Tantomile knew that name.  It was the only thing he had ever had to consciously share with her, and even then she had never spoken it aloud.
     *Pax child.* Peace brother* came simultaneous messages from his sister and the Guardian.
     *I apologize,* the Guardian sent along with waves of peaceful emotions as his sister twined herself around him.  *Jellicles are on the edge of my jurisdiction so I know less about their society that most creatures I come across.  Know that I would never speak your Third Name/Self-Name aloud or to anyone but you.*
     "Thank you."  His voice was still strangled with emotion but he did his best to convey his appreciation.  Then a thought occurred to him.  "Do you speak Jellicle?"
     The form nodded then replied in the same tongue.  "It requires rearranging my vocal chords a little and I don't think any slang or colloquial terms would translate well but I can understand."

     I wasn't sure where to go with this.  My first thought was Rae but I feel like I am harping on her and not developing her like I should.  My next thought was a Jellicle ... and I really wanted to simply explain why you don't call a Jellicle by their real name, if you should guess it, which you never will.  They don't pull a Rumpelstiltskin and dance around singing it.  I ended up combining them.  For some reason it was always Coricopat saying the prompt, never anyone else in the Tribe or any of my original Jellicle characters, though it did waver between him warning Tantomile or Cantata.  And if I could bedazzle the word Guardian in a sparkly pink-red, I would.


Day 28 - In the Company of Animals

      Ms. Abercrombie discusses various authors who have/had pets, both cats and dogs, as faithful companions, cheerleaders, and muses.  She also briefly discusses the fact that her current furry shadow is a rescue named Nelson.
      I am glad she made the decision to adopt and I think that using a rescue program is an excellent way to go about it.  We have used American Brittany Rescue to adopt our last two dogs and are so happy with our choices. 
     Our first rescue was Sammie, a young male who had been rescued from two different abusive homes (one neglect, the other worse).  When we went to meet him he was already named, well mannered, housebroken and crate trained, and while a little reserved, he got along with us all well.  He was the most nervous around my dad, which broke my father's heart, as he had grown up with Brittanies and even had one named Sam.  We decided one of his previous male owners must have kicked him when he went out the door because he either refused to go outside or was skittish if my dad was standing in/near the door way.  After he had adjusted to the family and warmed up to us all (though he claimed Mom as 'his' person, with me as beta) my dad and sister took an afternoon and slowly taught Sam that Dad wasn't going to hurt him by having Deanna lead him in and out of the house on his leash first with Dad standing next to the doorway, then with Dad petting him as he went though.  Later, from time to time, he would still feel too much pressure if one of us was in the doorway but by and large that was the only residue from his previous life.  Poor thing had terrible genetics and lost several teeth, ended up being mostly blind one eye (which led to several false alarms), and developed arthritis but he enjoyed cuddling and snuggling with everyone and was very glad to meet new people.  He had his preferred spot on the couch and if it was occupied during a party and the person got up, he had no qualms about reclaiming it!  Did I mention Sam's favorite spot during the day was the back of the couch?  He could see the whole neighborhood and get a nap in the sun all at once.

Pleeeeeease will you feed me?

     Our second rescue (whom we have right now) is Charlie.  Charlie is a purebreed, owner surrender, meaning his owner contacted ABR and asked them to come take him away, in this case because the wife and kids weren't happy with the dog the hubby got and wanted a pug.  They had the gall to brag about it to the person who picked him up.  Makes me sooooo mad.  The two major issues we've had to deal with on Charlie were socialization and his hunting drive.  His first family kept him outside, on a chain, so he was very happy outside, with very little interest in people or affection.  Now he gets jealous if we kids are snuggling with Dad on the loveseat, that's his spot!  lol!  We noticed a definite change after our latest camping trip, our first with him.  After dark he would curl up in people's lap or on a camp chair around the fire and since then he has staked out Dad's lap as his, which is really funny because Charlie is on the long side for a Brittany, not really 'lap' size!  For his hunt drive we ended up taking him to a dog trainer and worked with her, getting him to focus on us and learning how to calm him down when he starts racing from window to window, 'hunting' squirrels and birds and moving leaves.  Initially it involved putting him in his crate when he wouldn't stop, but now a firm 'Down' and 'Stay' works very well.  He'll complain a bit at first but then he'll settle down for a nap.  Phew.
     I could write pages and pages and pages about our beloved Brittanies, their similarities and differences and quirks and adventures (and not even start on our gerbils or my favorite cats) but sufficed to say, writer or not, pets are very important, to love and to snuggle with, with no judgement or malice or ulterior motive (unless it's dinnertime).

Day 27 - Catastrophies and fruitcakes

August 27 - In anticipation of catastrophe

     Two things sprang to mind immediately, from two different phases/parts/ages of my life.

     The first is a scene from Eight Cousins by Louisa May Alcott is which Rose, the main character, her seven male cousins*, along with an assortment of friends and aunts are putting on a series of short skits, the theme of which is a part of a word.  The answer is catastrophe which they break into "Cat" (one of them makes a fetching little kitty), "ass" (as in Baalam's donkey), and "trophy" (the early bird gets the worm).  At the end they reenact a train wreck (it's before the time of motorcars).
     The second thing that sprang to mind is a wonderful fanfiction: Apocalypse Week by Eternal Contradiction.  EC writes excellent Shenny fanfics.  Shenny, for the Big Bang Theory fanfiction uninitiated stands for a Sheldon and Penny relationship, usually as a couple but sometimes as friends.  In Apocalypse Week Penny is introduced to a yearly tradition Sheldon drags the boys into, a week spent trying to train the boys to survive the end of the world through paintball (need to know how to shoot), sessions spent reviewing different forms of world ending events (zombies, aliens, natural disasters, etc), bomb-making, -throwing and -aiming practice, running (gotta keep ahead of whomever is out to get you), proper survival clothing (no leather but denim is good).

*  I remembered after I wrote this that it is only Rose, her cousin Mac, cousin Jamie, and the young people they are staying with that perform this.  They have gone into the mountains after Mac has had his terrible fever and nearly ruined his eyes.  Cautionary tale for anyone who reads with only a little light!  I know it certainly scared me as a child!
     I love Eight Cousins and it's sequel Rose in Bloom and have reread them many, many, many times.  It was a long time before I realized they were written by the same author as Little Women, which I adore because of Jo, a tomboyish writer with younger siblings.  Rose is such a sweet, kind and lively child who grows into a beautiful, benevolent, and wise woman under the tutelage of her many aunts and two dear uncles.  I have always wanted to be her or be like her, ever since I discovered her when I was very young.
     I had forgotten how much Apocalypse Week focuses on Penny's feelings!  Most of what I remember from it is how well Penny and Sheldon work together and the fact that, together, they could take over the world.



Day 27 - Fruitcakes and Discipline

     OK, what is everyone's problem with fruitcake?  Admittedly I've never had the traditional fruitcake soaked in rum w. gummy fruit (yay no Christmas?) but our family makes what could be classified as a fruitcake with canned fruit cocktail and an evaporated milk and sugar glaze that is not only heavenly but you can get away with eating it for breakfast because it has fruit!  </rant>
     Now that that is out of my system.  The point Ms. Abercrombie was making regarded her mother's self discipline, yearly making fruitcake as gifts and daily practicing piano.  This is a quality I greatly envy.  Follow-through is something I have struggled with my entire life (and is something I was discussing with my father just yesterday).  In school struggled to complete homework, not because the work was difficult usually, but because it was boring, repetitive, and/or I allowed myself to get distracted (A/N- this started in first grade).  Long term projects are/were deeply loathed and always completed two days (or less) before they were due (unless the teacher required some sort of proof of progress, which was rare).  And I usually got A's so I feel completely justified.  Neyah.
     Obviously I also struggle with goal follow-through/self discipline, such as in writing (sorry), exercise, tooth brushing (honestly, yes, I am 23 and I struggle with it), responding to important emails (the pressure!), talk writing (last minute anyone?), and service time (which makes the goal of pioneering really scary and seem completely unattainable without a Red-Sea-parting amount of holy spirit).
     Unless I am answerable to someone else I have a hard time completing a task, no matter how much I want to!  It is so very frustrating!

Eight Cousins image from GoodReads.com
Fruitcake image from Neopets.com

Random rants + My brain won't shut up

     I love writing at the public library but, unfortunately, there often aren't enough tables to work at.  I desperately hope that when they finish construction there will be enough room for all.  I know they are increasing the amount of reading space, which is exciting.  I've had to resort to using the quiet reading area to do some of my writing, which I feel guilty about when I start typing it into the computer.  On Tuesdays the tables fill up right at noon, which is when I get off of my shift.  I watch them fill up as I shelve and despair.

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     Last night I was randomly inspired to work on a character I roughed out eons ago, the only problem?  It was 1:45 AM.  Suddenly I was way too hyped up to even consider sleeping, my brain was going a million miles a minute and I was giddy with joy.  GAH!  I discovered things she had done as a child (like get lost in a cave and be rescued by the richest man in town), the delightful character the piano teacher is, her favorite color, special jewelry she owns, her hopes and dreams.  I love it!
     Robyn, as that is her name, was originally created as a fictionalized self-ish-insert into a friend's Jonas brothers story (friend of the MC) but I've used her in other projects, including my CATS story, where she gets turned into a Jellicle!  She is the calmest of my characters and the first to not list yellow as a least favorite color (she's actually wearing it in the reference picture I use).  She also has both parents living and not separated, a first and quite the accomplishment.  Do you know how hard it is to write a story with both parents around?  Maybe it's from growing up watching Disney.  Who knows.  I will introduce her to you in the next few days (when I can either finish filling out her 'profile' or simplify it without sacrificing too much character development).

Day 26 - Highwaymen and Trampolines

August 26 - The stranger at the crossroads

     It wasn't the first time Anne had felt eyes on her as she made her way to the bakers to retrieve their order of rolls for the dinner crowd.  Trevaine Road was the straightest shot out of town and
     Here the story tried getting away from me, adding more people than I wanted and changing the geography of the town.  The hashed out part is what I wrote before I redirected it.
the shortest route from her father's inn to the bakers was down Absthem, the road that ran the breadth of the town.  Where the two major pathways met was understandably busy and gossips enjoyed lingering to people watch , but the gaze Anne felt on the back of her neck was too intense for a mere gossip.  Surreptitiously she tried to catch a glimpse of whomever found her so fascinating but the milling masses shifted so quickly, no one staying in one place very long.
lined with inns and shoppes on one side, taverns and stables interspersed with forest on the other, bisected here and there by smaller roads leading to more homesteaded parts of town.  In other words, it was populated by those who had ... an interest in others. Forcing herself to merely glide, a lady doesn't run, she still reached Tevya's yeasty shop in record time.  If the kindly old man noticed her twitchy and rushed behavior he made no mention of it as she paid their weekly tab and scurried back into the street.  She was nearly home free, past the worst of the taverns when she heard a drunken hail from behind her.  It sounded like Jacob Fitch, a young man recently gone into business for himself and feeling every inch the man.
     Refusing to acknowledge him, despite the fact she was the only one on the street in earshot to hail, unless her mysterious watcher had shown himself.  That thought nearly made her turn and the hesitation hurried Jacob's steps until he was sweeping her up from behind.  Her basket of rolls flew down the road as she was swung by the waist in a dizzying circle, a shout dying as the air was knocked from her lungs.
     "Anne!  Sweet, dear Anne!  Ever so good to schee you!  Pretty Anne with the pretty green eyes.  Eyes like a cat," Jacob rambled setting her back down but keeping a firm hold in her.  "When are you going to marry me my little cat?  I've a business of my own now.  I can buy you pretty ribbons my little cat."
      She could smell the whiskey on his breath as nuzzled her hair  Enraged, Anne's spine straightened and she struggled against the blacksmith's vice like grip and iron arms.  "Jacob, let go of me.  I have no wish to marry you, you know that.  Let go!"
     "Don't wanna.  Wanna get married," Jacob said petulantly, his face still buried in her brown locks.  He sounded like the small child he had been when they first met.
     "If you're looking to marry, Anabelle has been making eyes at you," Anne replied, still struggling.
     "I don't want Anabelle," Jacob snarled, whirling Anne around to face him, his goofy, childlike attitude suddenly gone.  I want you, Anne Reeves!"
     "Jacob, you're drunk and you're hurting me," Anne said, stilling her movements and doing her best to speak placatingly despite the anger and fear burning through her veins.  The bright mild day suddenly turned dark and cold as Jacob gripped her tighter, hissing again in her face.
     "I am going to marry you Anne."
     At once his lips her pressed her hers and Anne went wild.  Flailing, she scratched and clawed what she could reach while in his painful grip.  She managed to wrest one fist free and raked her nails across his face.  Then, as suddenly as Jacob's attack  had begun, she was wrenched from his grip and a blade point was above his heart.
     "One more move," the blade owner spoke and the rest was a bit of a blur to Anne, who finally succumbed to her nerves a bit.  There were impressions of the blade biting Jacob's flesh, his fear and anger.  A brief scuffle and then it was only she and her rescuer.
     "Are you alright?"  She could scarcely believe that it was the same voice that had told Jacob off.  The tone was suddenly quiet and calming.

     This story wanted so badly to become an epic beyond what I have the time or abilities currently to write, which is why it has taken me so long to post it.  Wrestling a highwayman is a difficult task!
     This was inspired by "The Highwayman" as sung by Loreen McKennitt (from the poem by Alfred Noyes) and The Scarlet Pimpernel movie starring Jane Seymour, Anthony Andrews, and Ian McKellen(!).  Unfortunately when I wrote most of this I didn't have access to either one so it was written to "The Highwayman" by Celtic Thunder and the Trial of Lancelot CD by Heather Dale.
     Anne here has definite flavors of Belle a la Beauty and the Beast and Once Upon a Time.  The highwayman (who is the rescuer considering I don't think I made that clear) is part Scarlett Pimpernel, part rogue, part local boy gone big, and completely in love with Anne.  Interesting fact, I realized that this is not the first story I've written where a man/boy falls in love with a girl, watches her from afar and then swoops in to save her and the things dear to her.  In middle school we had to write a newspaper from the perspective of the people living in Roanoke before they vanished, and come up with a theory for why they left.  In a side story I started writing (which I abandoned when I realized it was going to turn into a romance novel), an Indian boy falls in love with a settler, meets her on the beach as White leave, gets wind that a rival tribe is going to raze Roanoke, and warns the settlement, saving her dear brother in the process.  I gave an edited version (they were only friends and it was much shorter) to my group.

     Anne succumbed to nerves because I have no idea what her swashbuckling hero says and I don't know how to write sword fight scenes.  What do you say beyond thrust and parry?  I can write cat fights (as in the actual felines) but not human fights.  That's what I get for roleplaying cats when I was younger.

Day 26 - The Trampoline as a Metaphor

     The author discusses her fear of jumping on a trampoline.  Perhaps it is because I am still very much a child, but I love the trampoline and don't find it scary at all.  Boring maybe, but not "impossible to feel safe on".
     She also discusses the freedom of just letting go on said plaything, in which she has a point.  If you don't care how you look it is a lot of fun.  Also, if you have something to do beyond just jumping in one place.
    As metaphors go it isn't the best one I've ever heard but is is a case of knowing your audience.  Thank you Ministry School for my public speaking and human interaction and teaching skills.