There just seems to be conflict and debate everywhere today. At Forward Motion, at Melanie Rawn, even through email with my chorus. I just don't feel like dealing with it today. Because when I see conflict - at least of a logical or semantic nature - I tend to jump in head first and swim to the bottom. And I get consumed by it, frustrated, obsessed, whatever. Times like that is when my brain decides to start questioning everything. "What are you doing with your life? Where are you going? What will the future bring? What can you do today to know what's going to happen tomorrow? What if the future is bad? What if it's good? What are you going to do with yourself then?" And it just goes on and on. I never really know how to stop this. I usually just go a little nuts for a night or two and then the original source of the conflict dissipates and my brain doesn't have the ignition material it did before and everything settles. But it seems like I've been riding one wave of conflict right after another. And I just don't have the energy for it. I'm seriously thinking about just doing nothing this weekend. Not the all day rehearsal, not the marathon. Nothing. Just giving myself a weekend to read a book, stare at the TV, do mundane chores, anything that doesn't involve a whole heck of a lot of reasoning or patience. Because I feel like I'm running short on both. My brain just needs a break. It doesn't have to keep racing toward some unseen finish line that is always just out of reach. Maybe if I stop mentally running a marathon (see, Mark, I don't hate all types of long-distance running, just the physical kind) then I'll be able to stop the heavy thinking cycle. At least for now.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARK!!!!!

Yay! I finished Chapter 6 yesterday! The Dare is complete. Of course, I think Chapter 6, as it stands now, sucks big, moldy rocks, but at least I have something down. It's strange. In the past week or two, I've started to pull away from the need to revise as I go and move into the need to just finish a draft to get the ideas down and see where they take me. I'm starting to feel less of a need for crits right now because I just want to focus on finishing and I'll fix it later. It feels wierd. I'm so used to this need for perfection in my writing. And it's slipping away. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. It was good because I just forced myself through chapters 5 and 6 without paralyzing myself because I didn't particularly care for the writing I was doing in them. But I've been able to write better the first time through because of a need for perfection. I guess this attitude may depend on a lot of things. My need for perfection in writing is usually highest and easiest to appease when the ideas are flowing a little better and I'm confident in what I'm doing. That was not the case in February. So maybe I've just found out how I deal with writing when my confidence slips or I run into a bit of a block. Very interesting.

By the way, I've come up with a little ditty based on the website I posted yesterday:

A kiss on the hand may be quite continental, but diamonds are a girl's best friend.

Now becomes

A casket and grave may be quite continental, but diamonds are the dead's best friend.

And it's stuck in my head. At least it's catchy.

I don't know about you, but sign me up. I guess now we know that diamonds are also a dead girl's best friend.

Well, I'm over 500 words into Chapter 6. This chapter has to be at least 1000 words in order to qualify for the Dare. So I should be able to make it. I'm not entirely happy with the 500 words I've got, but I'm grateful to have just put something down for this chapter. Especially with the way I'm feeling today. I finally got a chance to talk with Mark about last night. And he was as supportive and wonderful as he could be on the phone. I just hope that he can get home early tonight so I can spend more than the usual half hour with him before I go to my writing group. I would just not go to group all together, but I have to miss next week's meeting for a chorus meeting. And I would hate to miss two weeks of critiques in a row. We'll see.

Ick. After finishing Chapter 5, the rest of yesterday pretty much went into a downward spiral. A co-worker thought I was being serious about someting when it was pretty obvious I was joking. So my joking reply made it back to a bigwig here. Thank God these people have the ability to laugh non-maliciously at themselves and others. All is well now, but this co-worker knows me pretty well and I was surprised to see such a stunning Blonde Moment from him.

And then I went home and found out our friend needed to crash at our place because the pipes froze and broke in his apartment. Not a problem. Mark and I are both happy to help him out. But it meant that I had even less quality time alone with Mark than I usually do on Mondays. Which ended up being a really Big Problem due to what happpened at my chorus rehearsal last night.

Our director is off training other directors and singers in Australia last week and this week (I know, cry her a river). This means that our assistant director is in charge, with me filling in a little here and there to pick up some of the slack. Last week, Edie gave me a couple hours advance notice of what she wanted me to do. She gave me two minutes notice yesterday. And that was after I had tried to clear up a confusion about the choreography that really perturbed me. So the ten minutes I spent in the car on my way to practice trying to put myself in a better spot for rehearsal had already been tested and found lacking. I tried to keep at it as I prepared for what I had suddenly found out were my duties for the evening. I thought I had managed it enough to survive. I was wrong. As soon as I step up to direct, Edie tells me to work on this for the chorus. I take it in stride and follow her instructions. As I'm directing, Edie comes up behind me, firmly puts her hand on my shoulders to prevent me from moving with the beat, and tells me to stop bouncing. Meanwhile my whole face is to the chorus and I have to find someway to hide the frustration and anger that I feel after this remark. I have no idea if I succeeded. So we finish a once through of the song. And I start to go over why we had taken it very slowly and figure out what we need to work on when everyone sort of bombards me with their opinions, questions, suggestions, corrections. Edie thrusts music in my face to show me what I had missed in my direction. It was just too much.

And to top it all off, my brain chose at that particular moment to really get upset that my mother had not given me my brother's new address yet. I know that this shouldn't surprise me anymore. My mother doesn't do anything like this on purpose. But I have no idea how she was able to send out an email with my brother's new info to everybody but me. And once I made her aware of this fact, she felt awful and told me she send it out right away to me. But she hasn't. And that fact combined with everyone criticizing me, telling me what to do instead, what I'm doing wrong - or just in general not allowing me to have any authority as a director - I just lost it. I left the room in tears and found a quiet spot in the bathroom so I could be upset for a while. In a group like that, there's usually at least two or three people who come after you after a few moments to see if you're OK. About five minutes go by before Edie comes. And, quite frankly, I didn't want to see her then. She felt bad that she might have caused me to be upset. I told her it wasn't just her. And she understood. And then I just started talking about how I really wasn't having fun with our chorus anymore, that I would rather have spent this particular Monday night with Mark and my writing. She said that she could tell I wasn't having fun (this, believe it or not, did not make me feel better), and that everyone has different priorities or something. I just got the feeling that she was telling me I should quit or take a leave of absence. This made me even more upset, because then I started to wonder just how badly I was performing in my duties for the chorus. I found a way to make it through the rest of the night at rehearsal (without directing, thank God). And I must have done a damn fine job of putting on a happy face because no one, no one, came up to me afterward to ask if I was OK, if everything was alright, etc. No one. Usually at least five people swarm you at the end of rehearsal to see if you're OK. But I was summarily ignored. And then I had to go home, knowing our friend was there, and that I just didn't feel comfortable sobbing into Mark's shoulder while we had a guest. So I had to put on another happy face. And that one must have been damn good, too, because Mark didn't catch on that I was upset at all.

Last night was just awful. And I couldn't even lean on Mark without feeling worse for doing so in front of our guest. I'm tired. I want to go home and go to bed. I don't want to go to the all day rehearsal on Saturday. I want to move beyond this ickiness and write. But I just don't see how I can do it.

Yay! I finished Chapter 5! And I want to start Chapter 6, but I left all my notes at home and feel very much lost without them. When it comes to starting a new chapter, at least. I know this will focus on Denise and her gang (that's growing because I think Josie is going to join them - or get killed trying). But I'm not sure how I want to approach this. I've got to switch between Margie's and Denise's POV for these chapters. I think I'll start in Denise's, but I'm not sure. It all depends on how I want to resolve this stupid notebook mess. And if I want to draw out suspense and tension regarding Darren's issue. I haven't decided yet. But, whatever I decide, I need to finish Chapter 6 by midnight Friday in order to get my pip for completing the Dare.

Well, couldn't post yesterday as blogger was trying to catch up to their new owners, Google. Not that I had anything astounding to say, really. But I'm glad that I can post today.

I did manage to write about five pages (1000 words) on Saturday. That was nice. I had hoped to write more yesterday, but we had a bunch of other things to do. I started off playing racquetball. Seeing as how I haven't touched my racquet in two and half years - except to move it to a darker corner of my closet - I did rather well. I won our match, in fact. Although I think that's more because my arm managed to figure out exactly how to repeatedly hit the silly blue ball to my opponent's weak spot. I wish I knew how I managed that so I could try and do it consciously, perhaps even consistently. But I doubt that will happen. Racquetball is much more luck than it is skill - for me, at least! It was fun to play again, even if my muscles are protesting. I hope that Sherri and I can make this a regular thing.

The insanity that was Sunday continued with much laundry. And the laundry was interrupted by a trip to Costco and a trip to King Soopers and dinner and finishing our wedding CDs. But the laundry is done, the groceries purchased, the chili delish, and the wedding CDs mailed and completely finished. Nice to have that done. Next weekend can be as focused to writing as my other hobby of sining will allow (a five hour long rehearsal on Saturday will make my performance for the Monthly Marathon suffer).

But I need to finish Chapter 5 and start and finish Chapter 6 by Friday if I hope to complete the first Dare of 2003. I am determined to do it. So off to work I go.

While driving to work this morning, I had the country station on. And I got thinking that I had programmed the station partially as a nod to my brother, who likes country and line-dancing and boots, the whole works. As I was realizing this, the song with the line "It was nineteen, eighty somethin" was playing. And then I started thinking about growing up with my brother in the eighties. How he loved the "scuzz cut" hair style that he now has to wear as a Marine, how he loved to gross me out on any occasion with fake spiders and such. And I had to fight like mad to keep the tears from running my mascara. I miss my baby bro. I hate thinking about where he is in the world. Mom's got his new address, so I can write him and hope he gets a chance to write back. And I think I'll start sending him snippets of my book for him to read while he stands watch or whatever it is they have those guys doing until the inevitable war order is given. I think he might get a kick out of that.

Colorado Strikes Again: Wow. First Joe Millionaire. Now the Bachelorette. Two Colorado victories in Reality TV in one week. However will this state recover?

Well, the situation has become just sad and amusing now. Here are some of the more entertaining comments that have been made by various people (paraphrased):

Mark Twain is my hero. But he is not a hero. And I think the reasoning behind this was because, while he affected this person's life and writing in general, he didn't constantly do acts of heroism, at least not that this person had read about.

Language is flexible, but in the hands of the Politically Correct, it is emotionally manipulated. This is my favorite. This person (different from above) seems to imply that writers can adapt, adjust, twist the English language and that is OK, because the language is flexible. But the minute anyone uses language for PC terms, that same adjusting and twisting of language becomes emotional manipulation and is a Bad Thing.

And lastly...

The intentional misuse of words brings about the devaluation of genuine experience. There are just so many assumptions and connotations in this one that make me laugh at the irony of it all. But they also make me sad. Especially because telling any one person that they can't be a hero, a victim, or a survivor because they don't meet X, Y, and Z requirements devalues that person's genuine experience. And such a statement also puts one person above another, one person in the position to determine whether or not a word has been intentionally misused and whether or not that peron's experience was genuine. And that's really heartbreaking.

One thing in all this has rung very true and been proved countless times by both sides. What we write can only affect people and make a difference if people decide to let it affect them. The same can often be true for heroes. They can be willing to sacrifice their lives for others, but if those others don't want to be saved, then sometimes even the most heroic efforts won't prevent their loss.

But back to writing... I'm feeling better. I'm feeling connected with my story. I feel ready to tackle it and see where it goes. I finally realized what Darren's problem with Denise might be, but I'm not sure how he'll react to it. He may decide to tell me that I'm way off and I need to keep guessing. Men. Of all my male characters in this book, only my "villains" seem inclined to let me into their heads. My, ahem, heroes are rather reticent. This could be a problem.

Damn it! Why can't I just let go of this, move on and get back to my writing! This is really pissing me off. Why do I do this to myself?

Here I go again

OK, I've had a night to sleep on this whole mess and reread things. Yes, I can see where Holly did not directly accuse the poster of being an apalling excuse for a human being. I do believe she did say that if he believed X, Y, and Z (which he had said he believed in the post she was replying to), then you are pathetic, or somesuch. Yes, I can see where the poster did say he thought his acts of writing were heroic. To me, this does not mean he's calling himself a hero, but I can see how it would be interpreted that way. My biggest problem with the whole mess is that Holly has said that sentiments such as what this poster has express belong to an abhorrent group of writers she can't stand. Again, she did not directly state that this poster was such a person, but the implication, I felt was clear. And extremely disturbing. I find it commendable that she stands by her beliefs and opinions. But I find it distressing that she could call any other opinion on the matter wrong or even "fucking wrong." That attitude, to me, is more abhorrent than someone believing their words have the ability to change people. And it's just as arrogant as the writer that thinks her words are God's gift and that it will save the world.

Every time something like this comes up, I try very hard to be open. To look at my opinions and my expression of them objectively. To look at my logic and see where it's flawed. Am I wrong in thinking that discerning the value of someone's profession or ability to be heroic is a personal thing? I don't think so. But I also am willing to think that I might be wrong. I have all sorts of opinions and beliefs. And they work for me right now, at this point in my life. Will they change? Maybe. Maybe not. Will I always hold these views close to my heart? Certainly. Will I argue in their favor? Yes, but never at the expense or belittlement of another's opinion, regardless of how ridiculous I think it is. I fear the day that I say, "I am right and you are wrong" on anything related to an opinion. On that day, I think my own opinions and beliefs become moot.

Who knows? Maybe I'm much too quick to take something personally, to rail against a perceived injustice that isn't really an injustice, just a bad choice of words or a big misunderstanding. All I know is that I'm proud of myself for at least considering my fault in this nonsense. To at least look at the possibility and rethink and re-examine.

All I know is that it felt good to bitch and moan and whine and yell and scream and rant and rave in my previous post. It felt good just to say it all. It's given me a sense of closure, of peace on this matter. I think I might've even managed to make a few good points. Did I attack? Was I overly dramatic? Did I exaggerate? Did I misunderstand Holly's points and unfairly accuse her of things? I'm sure I did that, too. Did Holly do the same? No one can know but her.

One thing that's got me confused, though (only one thing you say?), is that both Holly and Mercedes Lackey have written that fiction is lies, entertainment. That they write stories just to tell a story. If that's the case, and they think they have no chance to change the world or even make a difference with their words, then why have a theme at all? Why make a point? Why try to say "love conquers all" with your story and hope the reader will believe it?

The Value of Words and Heroes

The debate I mentioned before has gotten even worse. It all started with a simple enough question: What is theme? It's a very good question. One that brought forth quite a few good answers. And the original thread even made me realize my own definition of theme. Then it morphed into, for lack of a better phrasing, the "proper" motivations behind writing. Holly said that writers don't save lives, that they just sit on their butts and basically tell lies for a living. Certainly one way of looking at it. The only way? Is there ever only one way? Lord, I hope not. At any rate, someone had the audacity to disagree and state his life had been saved many a time by books. Holly's response? A writer can't say to themselves that they're saving lives at peril of becoming a fathead and an appalling excuse for a human being. I'm just wondering, then, why she thinks a nurse or cop or paramedic can say it without those results.

Suffice to say, the flames were fanned at this point in the thread. One poster had the infernal notion of respectfully disagreeing - unbelievable, I know - with Holly and saying that he wrote books to change the world and make a difference. Noble. Misguided and/or wrong? Maybe, if he didn't make sure he said he wanted to and believed he could change the world but just said that he would change the world with his books. But Holly told him (among other things) not to mistake the value of what he does (as a writer) with the value of life-risking jobs. For one thing, I never remembered this poster saying his job as a writer was more valuable than the job of a paramedic. I do remember him saying that he believed he could change the world and perhaps save lives with his works. And maybe he will. Maybe two years from now, a decade from now, someone will read his book and it will inspire people to greatness, to stop a war, to make a breakthrough in medical science that cures Alzheimer's. You could also say, of course, that maybe he'll write the next _Communist Manifesto_ and be responsible for the deaths of thousands. But can't you also say that of paramedics and nurses and doctors and cops? That they may save from death the next Hitler?

My big beef is that Holly forced the title of hero onto this poor poster, misinterpreting (I hope not purposefully) everything the poster had said. And after forcing said title on him, she then proceeded to berate him for claiming it. My favorite, though, was when she said that she'd talked with "writers like [this poster]," who thought they were God's gift and such and how annoying/wrong/deluded is that. Blah, blah, blah. Here's where I get to spout on my love of irony. She's judged a class of people as arrogant for thinking they can save the world with their writing. Yet she doesn't see the arrogance in saying, "I'm right, and you're just fucking wrong." To disagree with an opinion is fine. To think someone is arrogant is fine. To outright tell someone that he is a pathetic excuse for a human being because he believes his writing can/has the potential to change the world and save lives is crossing the line. And breaking one of her own damn rules for the site. I like her own example, too. She says you can say, "That is stupid." But you can't say, "You are a stupid person." I thought this example should continue to read "...for believing this stupid idea." Either way, Holly has most certainly crossed a line. And she's refusing to apologize or censure herself.

What's more, she's wearing her posts and her opinions of the poor poster mentioned above as a badge of honor, of defending our language against abuse and tyranny. We are evil Politically Correct Nazis who want to defoul our language by allowing a word to *gasp* apply to more than one situation. What's the point of personal interpretation if "victim" can only mean one thing? What's the point of reading for context if "survivor" can mean only one thing? What's the point of writing if "hero" can only describe those who sacrifice their lives for others directly and regularly? Let's take the word "love," shall we? Love means a multitude of things. And each definition of love varies from person to person. When someone says, "No, 'love' can only describe the emotion you feel in X,Y, and Z circumstances" - that minute is when I know that our language has truly been oppressed, that it has truly been overrun with tyrants.

How 'bout another example? Take the word "opinion." Opinion means, according to Webster's New World Dictionary: "1. a belief not based on certainty or knowledge but on what seems true or probable; judgment. 2. an evaluation, estimation, etc. 3. the formal judgment of an expert." Based on what seems to be true. If I read this correctly, an opinion can never be 100% accurate or 100% wrong. So how my view of the word hero and such can be just "fucking wrong" is beyond me. By the way, I firmly believe that we are only experts in our own lives and experiences. So I feel you can only pass judgment on yourself, never anyone else, and certainly never on their opinions.

Also, I was under the impression that language was a fluid thing. That it adapted, evolved, adjusted with society. Many words that we use today likely once had far stronger means that we have now "made weak" by associating them with things that they were never meant to touch. Shall we research this, mourn every diluted word, and refuse to use these words in no other way but their original intent? Ridiculous. Instead, our language, is even stronger for this "dilution." We can make the description of someone who risks their lives for the lives of others better than just "hero" now. Today's language allows us to provide a better label in "true hero."

I feel like asking what other issues Holly has the absolute right of. I need to know this so that way I don't have the insolence to disagree with her on these matters and get attacked for having a dissenting opinion. Plus, she being the mother hen of the site, I'd like to know what topics or usages of words I should steer clear of lest she decide she thinks I've broken a rule and will boot me. Now, I honestly don't know her well enough to know if she would stoop to such childishness. But she did tell the poster from before a resounding "No, thanks," when the poster asked if Holly would but get to know him before deciding he was apalling, pathetic, and the author of drivel.

Value is a terrible word. It is loaded. It is subjective, yet it is often forced into objectivity in so many ways to make society "work." To place a value on one job over another seems to carry with it a value judgement on the holder of the job. I think putting values on people and positions is just wrong. To say that the value of a nurse is greater than the value of a writer is arrogant and self-serving (especially when we realize that the person who said this was at one point a nurse). I was once a scientist studying bacteria that could degrade some of the toxic filth man produced to protect his meager creations. That sort of research could eventually lead to breakthroughs in pollution control and reversal. Did I consider that a noble pursuit? Hell, yeah! Do I think any less of research now that I've left it? No. Do I think that a nurse has more value than a scientist in any field? No. They have different values. The benefits of a nurse are more direct and immediate. The benefits of a scientist will never be direct and immediate. But the actions of people in both positions could ultimately save the same or even skewed numbers of lives. So is the value of a job based on the immediacy of human gratification? Bull shit, if you ask me. I also taught high school for a quarter. Teaching was described (by other teachers, I'll grant you) as the most noblest of professions. I saw teachers put the lives of their students above their own - not necassarily in a direct physical way, but above nonetheless. Teachers directly shape the future of our society. Should we value them more or less than nurses? Good God, no. Should we say teaching is less noble just because the results of this profession take forever to realize, if they are realized at all? NO!!!!!!! Their value is different, but just as important. Now I work as a secretary so I can write. My first inclination was to think that assisting in an office and even writing were less noble pursuits than teaching and science and as such worth less. I realized I was wrong. The value of a profession is always what the professional brings to it. And since not a single person on this earth is truly capable of knowing all that a professional brings to their profession, then how can we possibly judge the value of the professional or the profession?

*breathes deep* I think I'm done for now.

So, my morning was spent trying to sift through a bit of a heated debate at Forward Motion. Then it took another long bit to put together my two cents. Have I written anything for the Virus Scene yet? Of course not. My deadline to start is 1PM. I will do it!

Schmoe Millionaire: Turns out one of the "lucky" two ladies left used to live in Boulder. And the article is kind enough to reveal just how many times Boulder has put itself on the map with this reality crap. Well, there is one plus out of this piece - at least it didn't mention "Mork & Mindy."

*Sigh* Only 650 words today. I keep telling myself that I'll finish the Virus Scene when Mark and I get back from grocery shopping. But I doubt that will happen. I'm just having too much fun playing married couple today. We'll probably come home and play more video games after we do the errands. We were so lazy and eager to snuggle that we even held off doing the laundry.

Ah, just found the loop hole!!! My previous post only said that I committed myself to finishing the scene - not necessarily today. Oh wait. The last line does. Rats.

Wow. Mark and I just had a three hour discussion about testing for intelligence and comparing intelligence. It was a very good debate. Sure, it got heated and frustrating at times, but I think we both made a lot of good points. And, of course, Mark neatly avoided doing any research for his Astrobiology assignment, and I neatly avoided doing any writing for that time. Funny how that works.

The plus side is that I committed myself to finishing the Virus Scene, as I've dubbed it. The silly thing is really making me avoid Human Dignity, and I can't afford to do that. I have many other books clamoring to be put into words. I'd like to get to at least one of them this year. But I can't bring myself to start another book until I've finished a draft of Human Dignity. I may change that thinking as I progress with this new passion of mine, but I'd like to just stick to one WIP and carry it through to the end first. I also had an idea to wrap up that infernal notebook of Mike's in Part 2. It will also help me draw out my theme, so that will be good. And I figured out more of the science of the precursor Virus, which is nice. Now I just need to write. I will finish the Virus Scene today. I will!!

Addy stole my notes for a new novel idea. I had a sudden inspiration last night, scribbled the ideas down on post-it notes, and left said notes on the night stand. I woke up to find them missing. Rat cat. Thank goodness I remember practically everything I wrote. Lousy kitty. But she's so cute. Can't be mad at her for too long. Back to writing I go. Here's hoping for a couple thousand words today.

Hello, Dolly: OK, so that's what the god of cloned sheep might be singing now. An amazing accomplishment for science, but it did terrifying things for the hopes of society's future. Clones for infertile couples, drones for organ harvesting, a super race. Ick. I just hope that we have enough kinks to work out of this system so we can slow this train down.

Duct tape: The madness with the homeland security warnings is really getting annoying. But my fave CU - Boulder prof, Norm Pace (well, he's my fave because he gave the thumb's up for my thesis and my defense - whether or not he read it or just didn't want me to cry any more, I don't know), finally spoke up about this nonsense. Nice to have somebody actually demonstrate coherent thought on the matter.

So Valentine's Day itself was not the fancy dinner and such that I had been planning. Mark and I both had rough days and just didn't have the energy to make the fondue and pork. So we decided to postpone the celebration until today. So last night we ordered Chinese take-out, ate chocolate, and stayed up really late with a game on PlayStation2. It was perfect. Today we continued our video game adventures, but also made sure we had plenty of time and energy to make the extremely yummy fondue and pork. It was very good. Mark even picked up the perfect bottle of wine to go with it. Oh, and it was a ruby he got me. In a beautiful white-gold, heart-shaped setting. He gives the perfect gifts. And I found out that my V-day cards made him tear up - so I guess I write the perfect cards (go figure - me, a writer).


Writing: Did not happen today. At all. I spent the day playing games and putting together our wedding picture CD. Now all we need are a few actual pictures and we can finally send those CDs off! They look great, though! The label maker is so cool!

Still procrastinating....but it's so much fun. At least I'm getting this out of my system before the marathon. And I've managed to fix the archive problem. Sweet.

Why does everyone at Forward Motion have to have such cool blogs?! I'm procrastinating like mad here, people! Gah, sometimes it's really annoying to have a neat new toy! :-D

INJURY UPDATE: Well, the bleeding has nearly stopped. I changed the bandage last night and was relieved that the cut only bled a little. This morning I went to change the bandage again, but realized I'm supposed to leave this special band-aid on for more than a day. So I just wrapped a small amount of tape around it to help keep the band-aid stuck to me. It's easier to type now, but my cut feels the pressure of typing bit more. I guess it's a fair trade. I'm just very eager to have it healed.


WRITING UPDATE: I think I'm going to at least do some revisions from crits today. I hope that I have the time and energy to get into writing the big virus explanation scene, but that may have to wait until this weekend. That's going to be hard to write as it is a large infodump. I'm trusting in Josie and a new character (name??) to really make it interesting and fun to watch Eugene get lectured. If I get that done before the end of the MM, I think I'll get back to Denise and see if Mike's going to contact her yet. I'll miss yet another Think Tank tonight, but I think it's far better to spend the evening with my hubby on this fine holiday.


HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY: Today marks the two year anniversary of Mark's infamous proposal during my lecture on chick embryo organogenesis. I was just remembering today how at least half my students thought it was a joke or prank and hadn't realized that their two TAs were not only dating, but living together! I often wonder how scientists fail to be observant about such things sometimes. Last night Mark and I stayed up really late watching VH1's "Top 100 Love Songs" special. We were just happy that the Titanic theme didn't make #1. It was neat watching some of the "power ballads" we grew up with high on the list. But we couldn't figure out why Susan Lucci was one of the commentors on the songs. Interviews with people such as India Arie, Diane Warren, and even Ice T were understandable. But Susan Lucci?? Whatever. Mark and I are going to use our fondue pot we got as a wedding gift tonight. Smoked Cheddar with bacon fondue. Yummm. I'm drooling already. And last night we made brownies, cut them into heart shapes and decorated them like conversation hearts. That'll be a fun dessert. I know Mark got me jewelry (well, he always gets me jewelry, bless the man), but I have no idea what. I'm looking forward to that surprise. I'm more excited about the birthday present I found for Mark this week than any of the Vday gifts I got him. Just 13 more days until I can give him that gift.

So last night I sliced off the tip of my left index finger. And we're not talking a small slice. Grrr. It's painful and bloody (well, dried blood, right now) and the bandage is very ungainly. I can't believe I've typed as well and as fast as I have today. I'm feeling pretty well, all things considered. And this whole episode has provided a slight bit of merriment. Mark has taken to calling me "Kellie the Nine Fingered." Ha ha. I just wish it hadn't been such a bad cut. It'd be nice to not hafe pains while I type! Especially considering the second Monthly Marathon starts midnight Saturday. Which brings me to my writing. My current WIP is coming along nicely. I've avoided it for most of the two weeks since the last MM. I had a few plot and timing issues that I wanted to be sure I resolved before I plunged back in. And I've been returning crits this week, too. Today I haven't written because I've been exploring the wonders of blogging. And, given my mood, I was inclined to write several scenes in which all my main characters sliced off parts of their digits. I highly doubt they would appreciate it.

Ah, at last I've figured it out. The archive links are still strange, but I think I'm finally getting the knack of reading, writing, and understanding html. Go me!

Argh! I can't figure out how to edit that annoying box in the lowere left corner! I want to add random tidbits about myself, I do! But I can't. Dang infernal technology! :)

Wow. My very own blog. I'm so proud of myself for finally trying this out. Thanks to Holly for prominently diplaying on the Forward Motion home page links to some great, notable blogs. Looking at her own blog, Sheila Kelly's blog, and Dave Barry's blog was really a treat. Plus it made me realize how wonderful these online journals can be. So now I'm ready to dive into the world of blogs! Look out World Wide Web!