(no subject)

And so it begins: http://cbsnewyork.com/topstories/topstoriesny_story_239101008.html

I've an audition today. Cold reading (which I like), and something interesting that I'm also not worked up about emotionally. That said, I've got cold gripping fear in my belly about it, which could only possibly be the result of recent events. As I said to Kat the other day, it seems I get back on the horse, metaphorically at any rate, every damn day. (Speaking of Kat, I was a lameo and slept from like 7pm on last night missing the piano bar. Bad Rach).

It's grim and rainy here today, which does nothing for my enthusiasm about anything really, but I suppose it's just weather. I've a pretty spectacular view of storms out my office window, and I'm slowly becoming more stoic about them if nothing else.

Have an ever improving lens on the Counsellor situation. I'll be in Australia, and I ultimately believe that time spent at NIDA will be better for my career in the long run than a small, thankless role that _doesn't_ show what I can do. No matter how major the production is, and no matter how much I'd like to be there, I've got a different vision for myself, that doesn't involve taking the long way around so much, but also doesn't involve shortcuts that will turn me permanently into serving wench number three. Additionally, this isn't much more than not getting a call back, and hell, I do that all the time. Not being attached to a show means freedom, and as long as I make use of that freedom while I've got it, I'm okay (and I think it's clear I've been making use, even if it's in somewhat absurdist vein).

I don't even realy seem to get sore after riding anymore, this is amazing, but weird... I've been so used to being in nonstop pain for it and working out, and my body seems to have adjusted, which is clearly the sign to push harder.

Just discovered that this is not, in fact Labor Day weekend, and that means my office will, in fact, be open on Monday, and as such, I don't, technically, have to work tomorrow, which means I can, in fact, actually protest.

My father also bought a new computer, and the purgatory of setting that up is what I get to do with part of my Sunday. This would be me not being thrilled out of my tiny little mind on any level whatsoever.

Also, I _really_ _really_ need to stop attempting to turn _everything_ I write into an epistolary novel. Thankfully, I realize this, and have no qualms about nuking pages of stuff to fix this. Grah.

writing thoughts

Persistant bout of melancholy today, which is indicative of female hormonal crap as much as anything else. The anything else, however, includes the fact that I've a lot of writing to do tonight, which will hopefully help me finish solving something I'm trying to figure out about other writing I should be doing.

The fannish stuff I've been doing lately has suddenly become emotionally and structurally elegant in a way I'm often reaching for and don't always succeed at, and in the wake of that, I'm looking at it and saying "why I can't I take those themes and work with them in a commercially viable framework?" The answer of course is no reason whatsoever -- I'm just terrible at creating worlds, even when that world is a mere reproduction of our own, and I have what may be a foolish allergy to writing the sorts of environments that I tend to navigate most effectively as a writer.

I also have problems with secondary plots (as opposed to sub-plots), but have historically assumed them necessary because people don't want to deal with tight focus, which can be exhausting or just indicative of less-than-mature writing skills. Oddly, the Hornblower books are making me challenge those assumptions, because they are weird weird weird in their structure (and no, that's not been the fannish stuff I've been working on, as an aside). Hrmmmm. So we'll see. There's a lot more to talk about here, including "can I write a story that's poly with it being a poly story" because it's not just that I think I can, it's that I think I should, and that I've got something to say there, not in lessons or romanticism but tone.

My number one objection to nearly everything on this earth is that we have such a hard time getting our head around the idea that complicated people lead complicated lives and that most people are complicated even if they aren't always capable of showing or expressing that. It's such a simple thought to use as a starting point to write something, but I think it's absolutely right on my part. I'm very interested in, among other things, greedy struggles for contentment.

Feeling defensive about all these writing thoughts. Writing is not me licking my wounds about acting (hello, two auditions in the next 24 hours), but just something I do, and have always done professionally/quasi-professionally, it just doesn't keep me awake at night, and so I don't talk about it much, and as such it's probably entirely new thing to a lot of the people who have friended me of late.

And yes, I also write fanfiction. And yes, when I say the word in public I whisper it, sort of like uptight old people saying "prison" or "cancer".

Anyway.

(no subject)

On the Internet, everyone is a celebrity, and in New York City this weekend, everyone is a protest organizer.

There's a mass action to disrupt traffic with bicycles being planned -- I saw people taping notes about it to bikes wherever they saw them chained up. And people have hung banners out their windows listing protest locations and times. A large billboard style banner has gone up on 25th and 7th, proclaiming "Save America, Defeat Bush" and generally, the city seems to be humming in a way that is eerily reminiscent of the days after Septemeber 11th, where everyone was _doing_ something with massive efficiency and cleverness, even when there was really nothing to be done. Also, the constant hum of the helicopters makes things sort of weird (and prove again the theory that PJ Harvey's Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea is the first post-9/11 album eventhough it was recorded before it).

One of the curls that sits behind my ear has gone entirely grey. The odd strands here or there are starting to clump, and now that my hair is finally its natural color, I'm pretty much going to have to dye it sooner rather than later. I'm sort of cranky about it.

Got cast in a language instruction industrial today. Not terribly exciting but it's a credit and a small amount of money. So between that and my audition going well (in that I had a good time, lord knows the outcome), I can't really complain.