Happy St Patricks Day!
I’m skipping the Irish coffee this year, but we’re still making a hearty cabbage stew.
And pinches for anyone not wearing green!
Tag: journal
Pi Day
It’s kind of funny, but I was introduced to Pi Day through my calculus class. It was a very nerdy little celebration the teacher put on for us students, but it tickled my fancy to no end. Ever since, I’ve always had pie on Pi Day.
At some point, it became popular. Suddenly everyone was going on about “Pie Day,” including several whom I’m pretty certain had no clue what pi was.
And all I could think was, “You’re ruining it.”
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Writing
My big complaint about CR1515 is that I feel like I’m only writing half the story.
So far, Talon exists as a prop. He’s there for the first few paragraphs, then vanishes forever — something that’s driving me batty. I want him to exist as a character, and to establish a solid foundation that helps the reader understand Aurora’s emotional conflict over the situation she finds herself in.
When I talked with my husband about the troubles I’m having with this story, he suggested that I change the first chapter to focus on Talon’s perspective, and end it with the sinking realization that his girlfriend has vanished. It’s a brilliant idea, and I love it.
But it also puts me in the same position I am in with The Scion Suit; I currently can’t maintain a masculine frame of mind for the life of me.
I adore masculine characters, so I don’t want to phone it in or force it. They need to flow naturally and keep consistent personalities.
Writing hasn’t been going all that smoothly with this pregnancy anyway; at this point I feel like waiting it out isn’t going to make much of a difference. Everything I’ve written is very likely going to need to be rewritten anyway.
Thank you for sharing my work!
An arm
I was searching for inkle loom designs when this popped up (yeah, I don’t know how the two are supposed to be related either).
It made me laugh, because as a Millennial, I’ve spent my entire adult life joking about how everything costs an arm, a leg, and your firstborn child.
Gosh I wish I could have been so privileged.
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Coffee
The religion I grew up in didn’t permit drinking coffee. We were often told about how it caused all sorts of ills, ranging from cancer to stained teeth, and everyone who loved Jesus should faithfully refrain from even thinking about the devil’s drink.
After I officially left that religion, coffee was one of the first things I tried. I’m not going to lie though — that first cup was a major disappointment.
Thankfully I ended up married to a man who knew a thing or two about coffee snobbery, and he taught me to think better than chain coffee stores. I’ll just say that we started roasting our own beans over a year ago, and there’s no going back. 🙂
Sometimes I like to sit with my hands cupped around my favorite mug, and wonder what’s supposed to be so evil about starting every morning with coffee. Of all the horrible wrongs in the world, why make a big deal out of something so harmless?
I like the ritual of brewing a cup for my husband and myself every morning, and topping them off with a dollop of heavy cream. I like taking the time to meditate as I transition into starting the day, to get myself into the mindset of being up and about. I like how it gently motivates me, without the jitters and sugar crash that comes from sodas.
So far, my teeth haven’t developed any staining.
And let’s be honest: there was no hope for me before I ever tasted my first drop of coffee.
Thank you for sharing my work!
Inkle Loom Purple Flowers Pattern
I’m making this one for my baby who loves purple.
I dyed the warp cotton yarn myself, which is much softer and less of a strain on my hands than the popular crochet thread that’s in all the crafting stores (I also like it much better for lace crochet for the same reasons).
It’s kind of like magic to watch all of the individual threads come together into a woven pattern.
Maybe in the future, I’ll have to get myself a heddle loom.
Thank you for sharing my work!
Currently
So … I’m tired.
The last time I had a baby, I took a break from the entire internet. However, since I’ve hardly been around for the last several months anyway, I’ve decided against doing the same thing this time; I’m nicely cloistered from the happenings of the world as it is.
That said, I’m moving into Spring cleaning mode and nesting instincts at the same time — I want to air out the house and prepare for a new baby, and I can only manage so much in the day with a giant parasite growing inside me. XD
On top of that, I already have two birthdays happening inside my “full term” window, so it’s going to be fun. What can I say? I just love chaos. Keeps life interesting.
Even though I’m not officially on break, I’m not going to be around much either. Probably even less than I already have been.
Because I’ve got a lot going on at the moment.
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Wind
Windy last night.
It wasn’t destructively strong, but it was the sort of wind that howls and blows ice straight into your bones.
I can’t sleep when it’s windy. I always end up wide awake, listening to every gust, and wondering how long it will take for morning to come. For some reason, I get the mental image of giants outside …
We ended up with the one-year-old in our bed, and the four older children camped out together in one of their bedrooms. The wind bothered them, too.
I couldn’t help but think about how lucky we are, that no one has to be alone when they’re scared.
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Convalescent
We caught another virus, and this one has left me feeling So. Very. Drained.
It’s been pretty bad this winter. We finally got around to checking in with some of the other parents, and apparently, our family has had it comparatively easy. Others have been hit considerably worse with a variety of illnesses, ranging from COVID to pinkeye.
Yikes.
The only thing to do is to surrender to the chaos and take things as they come. And get plenty of sunshine and vitamins.
One of these days I’ll get around to doing something.
Thank you for sharing my work!
Women’s Fiction
Aye, it’s good,” he said, handing the goblet back. “It’s also double strength. Colum takes it at night because his legs pain him. How much of it have you had?” he asked, eyeing me narrowly.
“Two, no, three glasses,” I said, with some dignity. “Are you implying that I’m intoxicated?”
“No,” he said, brows still raised, “I’m impressed that you’re not. Most folks that drink wi’ Colum are under the table after the second glass.”
-Outlander
I don’t typically read books written specifically for a female audience.
Because they make me feel bad.
Emotionally.
For example, the above quoted scene from Outlander, where the main character holds her liquor better than most men. High five, girl power, etc, etc, etc.
But me, being a real woman in real life, can’t handle booze for the life of me. It’s a bit of a joke between my husband and me, but the one time I attempted to get drunk, I ended up hunched over the toilet pretty quick. I based this scene in The Scion Suit off of my irl experience.
And, of course, the fact that I’m usually pregnant or nursing means that I’m borderline teetotaler anyway.
Back to my point: the female characters in per se “women’s fiction” are completely and thoroughly unrelatable to me.
I don’t have any fantasies about being able to out-drink a man … I don’t understand why one would want to. I don’t want to show anyone up or cut anyone down, because, well, that’s mean. I don’t like hurting people.
I’m not ambitious, and I don’t want to slave away for the sake of some job. I like having the freedom of dressing like a hippie and going to the park on the spur of the moment. I’m terrible at handling external pressure, and numbers never meant much of anything to me.
I like the color pink.
Yet if one were to go off of books, movies, TV, video games, etc, women like me don’t exist. Wow. Fantastic. I feel so accepted.
“Target audience: women” doesn’t include me. In fact, it seems to go out of its way to deliberately exclude me.
Why am I not allowed to read about relatable female characters? Why must I always feel like society is out to punish me for not living up to its expectations? Why am I not allowed to just be myself?
Sometimes I wonder if it’s gotten to the point where most women feel alienated in one way or another.
Or maybe it’s just me.
By Autumn Rain 