I should be working on my Chance script. Instead I’m slopped on the couch trying to keep my eyes open. We hates being sick, precious. Not, I suppose, that most people enjoy it. I did download the script to the laptop, though, so when I’m done zoning out and typing this, I’ll open it up and stare mindlessly at it, anyway. That usually results in at least a little work getting done.

Ted had his physio appointment yesterday, and they basically told him to go away, ’cause he was all healed up. Yay! Unfortunately, I didn’t have my phone with me (durr) so we couldn’t meet up until the appointed time and place. Oops. :) While he was (well, while I thought he was) at his physio appointment, I did some shopping and actually bought a shirt (gasp), and had lunch with , which was fun. :) We entertained ourselves with discussions of literature and movies, and I kept her from going back to work on time. Oops. :)

I went and looked at sewing machines (which were far too expensive) and got directions to a couple fabric stores, one of which I found. Like the rest of them I’ve been to in Ireland, it doesn’t have much in the way of fabric you’d want to make anything out of. At least, not that *I’d* want to make anything out of. They’ve got a bit of plain lightweight cotton, but not woven like you’d make t-shirts from (blast it) and some gingham and a great deal of formal dress material and a lot of curtain material, and a couple pieces of wool (I looked at the wool for a while. I’d have called it green, they called it teal, but either way it wasn’t a clear enough color to suit me, and it was the *only* choice they had. See? Buh.) and…well, I’ll just have to go to Joanne Fabrics when we go to WFC. I can have a fabric accident there. :) I did find a trumpet skirt pattern (so I don’t need that one, Deborah!), though it’s not lined, so I’ll have to get my Mommy to tell me how to make a lining for a skirt that doesn’t have one in the pattern. (It can’t be that hard.)

And Ted and I went to see MI:3, which was, I think, better than I expected it to be. There was one scene I held my breath through, and I liked some of the physical stuff at the end particularly, and … yeah, pretty good, I thought. I was entertained. Although I kept thinking when I saw the trailers, and continued to think all the way through the movie, every time I saw the lead actress, “Gosh, she looks like Katie Holmes.”

‘k, putting the rest behind tags because for some reason I didn’t mind spamming the flist when I wasn’t using LJ as my journal, now that I /can/ use the tags it seems like I should. Or something. :)

Mom & Dad are going to be extras in the film “Becoming Jane”, starring Anne Hathaway. Quoting emails from Mom & Dad…

“It’s a period drama about Jane Austen. And your father and I will be prominent (or not) in the recital scene. I’ll be the attractive matron with the white hair and the taupe silk dress with black pinstripes, and your father will be the gallant gentleman in a dashing coat, vest, elaborate tie, cute little stirrup pants. We shoot on the 13th. They’ll tell us more later, probably on the 12th or something.”

“I was really surprised at the time the costume ladies spent with us, making sure we had just the right look. My costumer went through lots of racks of clothes and had me try on 3 vests, and 4 jackets. She got the shirt, boots, and pants right on the first try. Then, one at a time, she held up nearly a dozen ties in front of me and squinted at my costume until she was satisfied that she had found The Perfect Tie. I think it helped that we were there a half-hour early and there was only one other extra waiting for a fitting at that time.”

“We ladies had THREE costume ladies fussing with us. There were three women getting fitted and we each had our own. But I think that Daddy’s right. Showing up early got us special attention. For myself, I’m glad I didn’t have to make the dress I’ll be wearing. It has these little cut-outs on each sleeve, which are then filled in with cream silk organza, and the edges of the cut-outs have a sort of ashes-of-roses pink ruching on them. Lotta work. I think in general it’s going to be a pretty scene. Certainly, from the costume colors they were hauling out, on purpose.”

I think this will be so cool. Hee hee hee!

asked how I defined “succeeded” in a meme thing. I suspect it was prompted by a discussion she and and I had the other night, in which I was not so much outlining my plan to take over the world as expressing frustration that I had not yet done so. Rob smacked me around a few times, to great effect, but Deborah did want to know what in hell I thought I’d aim for if I accomplished those things I’d set out for myself. Rob said, “The moon,” and Deborah said, “No, no, she’s never shown any interest in the moon, I mean, *really*, what would she want,” and I kinda figure this question is a result of that.

The answer references and an essay she wrote, which does not appear to be online anymore. It’s a magnificent essay about an artist’s hell.

In this hell, you, the artist, have died, and the Devil, a genteel fellow with a nice smile, walks you through your body of work, beginning with the pieces of paper you scribbled on as a toddler, through the angsty fantasy-ridden, ElfQuest-ripped stuff of your teen years, including all the pieces you didn’t remember and now desperately wish you still didn’t, through the time when you began to improve noticeably, all the way through to the pieces you consider the best you could possibly have done. _Nothing_ is lost, in this Hell: every piece of art you have ever created is here. It is your life’s work. It is your heart, your soul, your passion, your *best*.

And finally you reach the last room, and you look back on corridor after corridor of your lifeblood put down in pen and ink, and the Devil turns to you, and says, very gently, very kindly, very sympathetically, “…is that /all/?”

Success, to me, is looking over those rooms one last time, then smiling back at the Devil, and saying with no regrets, “Yes.”

objected, feeling you’d have to turn off your imagination in order to be satisfied with what you’d done, because you couldn’t do *everything*. And that’s true, so the Devil’s always got a leg up on you. But for me, being able to turn at the end of your life and look back over everything you’ve done, and to say, “Yeah, that’s all,” and be *satisfied* with it, that’s success. It means you’ve chosen wisely. And the paths not taken, well. Those are someone else’s life. That’s just something you have to live with, and if you can face down the Devil with a smile, I figure you done right by yourself.

miles to Isengard 29


  1. boymonster

    I am married, have two kids, very good friends, a freelance job on top of my real job in which I add to a world I have loved since I was 13, and Scarlett Johannsen exists.


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