Sunday, November 27, 2011

Friday, November 18, 2011

POWER DOLLS!

Too many posts in one day, but this is the funniest thing I've seen in ages.

Kickboxing for useless people

Despite kicking my trainer instead of the bag, almost throwing up and being totally exhausted at the end (to the point that I can't move), that was the best training session I've ever had.

It was about 25C while we were training, and I don't think I've ever been this sweaty (I know, what a marvellous thing to announce).

I'm getting a more complex training plan that will involve 5 days a week. I admitted that I'd been lazy and exhausted and that I can't seem to manage myself very well. My brilliant trainer is dealing with that very well, and is going to give me an eating plan too. He knows I have no intention of sticking to it, but he said it might help anyway.

I'm pretty happy with things despite the lazy behaviour - I'm much stronger and my back never hurts now. Mr G and I are going hiking early next year, and I was thinking that since we love it so much, we should do something similar for our honeymoon. I was a driving force behind a lot of the strange things we did when we traveled, so if i put together a new request list, I'm sure Mr G will agree to at least some of them. He loves to go to new places and explore (although I'll have to be stern about his guitar not coming this time), so I don't think I'll need to do much convincing.

On a completely unrelated topic, I freaked out at work the other day because I thought I saw someone I used to date. Turned out it wasn't him, but it just rattled me. I have had people I don't like come to the front desk before, and that was confronting, but what do librarians do when an ex-boyfriend comes to the desk? I suppose it depends on how the current relationship is. If Mr C rocked up at work I'd probably tackle him for an epic hug. If a difficult ex arrived I'd probably get security. Thankfully I usually have a good desk partner on with me.

Can't keep typing, I think I need to peel myself off this chair and get more water. Body hurts.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Love from far away

Didn't eat enough breakfast, went to a meeting and didn't really understand what was going on, got given more work, ate an average lunch, got interrupted so much I gave up on my break, asked for stuff to be done and got no response at all. Then I got home and made a horrible salty dinner.

Tired and close to death, I fired up my beloved lappy in a last ditch attempt to revive my day and found a lovely email waiting for me.

The subject was:

Hellooooo Melbourne buddy!!‏

Heh :-D

The other Miss A had somehow heard my desperate call for help (muffled by a face full of cookie), and told me to come stay with her in Sydney. I haven't even talked to her in months. Amazing.

I'm going in January. With a quick stop in Canberra so I can check out the National Library and bump up my nerd-cred.

The other Miss A and I met in London and after months of being weird and awkward, realised that we are the same person. We giggled over the cute but dorky guy, and laughed at the awful fashion obsessed cow that ruled the office. We ate muffins and asked for directions at Scotland Yard. True love.

Then we broke up. I came back to Melbourne, and she went to Sydney. The dream team was no more. But then we decided that such a glorious friendship had to be maintained and we began writing letters. I love letters. Emails just aren't as interesting. There's no effort involved in an email. You can't pour over old emails and feel the same joy as a real letter gives.

Hmmm. That little 'I love letters' speech has inspired me. I might write Mr C a letter as well. I can tell him all about the terrible creatures that live on the ocean floor (this is what I looked at for a reasonable part of the day), and cheer up his life in SA. Sometimes he seems terribly grim about things there.

Anyway, I'm going to write to them both and tell them all about what I discovered today. The hagfish. It covers it's prey in foul goo, suffocating it. Then it slides two retractable plates filled with teeth (it has no jaw) out of it's face and eats.

GROSS.

Mr C will love it. Miss A will be impressed. Tomorrow, love will be spread around Oz and I'll have a great day.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Editing a novel

My dad is a writer. Literary fiction mostly. He's a smart man, and when it comes to writing, he knows what he's doing.

He told me once that I can never fall in love with my own words. He said that I need to look at my work critically and be prepared to cull chapters ruthlessly.

May I just say that I've chopped an entire chapter.

If I got rid of it because I thought the entire thing was stupid, that either means I'm not in love with my words or that the chapter was so appallingly bad that I should consider turfing the entire thing before I embarrass myself publicly.

Unfortunately, I can confidently state that the chapter was so shit (watch your language Miss A!) that I couldn't even pretend that it could be fixed. It's a good thing I'm so stubborn.

The Victorian Writers’ Centre does manuscript assessments for $570. I could tweak this silly thing forever so I wonder how people make the 'finished' call. When is it going to be good enough that I can send it without feeling like I'm wasting my money? Why is it that the two people I know who are capable of editing properly are my darn parents? I do know a lovely woman who works in editing, but I know heaps of people who think they can edit but are only capable of twisting a story to fit their own style. I think I'll just spend the money and if it comes back in tatters I'll just suck it up and go on holiday.