Joss Whedon is totally my master now.
A geeky girl living in the big city, making her way, the only way she knows how... no wait, that's The Dukes of Hazzard. Who am I again? Oh yeah, a pop culture obsessed writer, publishing person, and occasional nerd. And I'm getting married. I talk about that, too.
I don't write fancy Gawker blurbs, but I did just come back from lunch, and saw Shia LaBeouf! Which makes a nice change from the usual folks I see in the neighborhood around my office -- like Ed Koch and Larry King.
I suspect today's going to be just as busy as yesterday was, but I just learned how to connect to the office from home, so at least I don't have to think about coming into work this weekend to get stuff done. Thank God and the Powers That Be.
It's a little crazy here at work today. My boss is working out of our London office for the next few weeks, and one of my other colleagues went to Virginia for a writers conference, so the two of us that are left in our department are handling all the meetings and such ourselves, plus trying to get our notes together for the big book fair (I leave in two weeks!) and put together a rights list.
Ok, so I don't know exactly how this might work, but I was thinking about Nanowrimo, and how I haven't managed to finish editing my LAST Nanowrimo novel, and then I was thinking how much I love some of my new internet buddies' writing, and I thought... collaborative story, anyone?
Got some really good work done last night on my non-fiction proposal, the previously discussed "How to Date a Superhero." Hopefully that will be in good enough shape to share with my writers' group on Monday, give myself a few days to make any suggested changes or revisions, and get it back to the agent with whom I've spoke about it. The more I work on it, the more excited I am about it. There's a special sort of challenge in non-fiction -- without that comforting buffer of a "plot" between the writer and a reader, all you have is, well, you.
Just posting this here real quick because I want to remember to go back sometime and read over these blogs from publishing industry insiders: Miss Snark and Agent 007.
Ok, so I think I managed to do the little feed thing through Atom and Feedburner, but I haven't really been able to tell if it works. At least, not through yahoo. Can someone give that a looksee and let me know if it's all copacetic?
Had another little lie-in this morning, showered, ate some breakfast, and watched "Hitch" on DVD. When the roomie and I went out for some food for lunch, a short time ago, the woman who lives upstairs from us with her pooch (whom we lovingly call "Crazy Dog Lady") said I looked very sexy. Which isn't something I'm all that used to hearing when I'm dressed in comfy sweats, and haven't bothered to brush my hair. I suppose it's the disheveled look. Still, nice to hear, though it may just be further evidence that Crazy Dog Lady is the same upstairs neighbor we call "Tipsy the Wonder-Drunk." I live in a very colorful apartment building.
Well, I arrived home from Paris fine last night, although the flight was delayed an hour leaving Charles de Gaulle. No other problems and I was able to come back to the flat, throw my bag on the floor, and relax with a cup of tea and the telly before bed.
Work was hectic today - An indication, I'm afraid, of what the weeks with Riverdance will be like. Oh well, only 1 more month anyway.
Theatresports class tonight - a small group only, but we did some really good work on emotions. I got to play angry, comforting, lustful, amazed, sorrowful, melancholic, and schitzophrenic. This week I definately have to get to the Actors Centre on Wednesday to see the team in action. I was also happy to hear that there is a New York Theatresports group, which I plan on contacting when I go home. This is just too much fun to give up easily!
Have you ever come across all the wisdom of the world in the walk home from a pub? All gone with the coming of sobriety, but in the moonlight, in the pale shadow of streetlamps and headlights, it all falls into order - a part of the tapestry. I'm under the spell of the moonsickness even now, with feelings gone in matters of hours, but at this moment, tonight, I've discovered one of the loneliest feelings in the night - to be by oneself amidst a group of people celebrating, enjoying themselves. This has been my weekend. Alone, mostly, and mostly lonely! Not the same thing, but two sides of a coin, or a double-edged sword. And there, too, is sadness. I'm alone because some of my friends are at the faire, and I'm alone because I chose not to be with them. This will all be meaningless in the daylight, save for the feelings of want, of belonging. Where exactly do I fit in? Not sitting on a barstool by myself while others are happy around me, not sitting on a beach chair by myself while others dance, and not, I lay odds on the future, in seeing what could have been this summer at the faire. But this is tonight, and with the rise of the sun, and the lessening of my headache, I hope to have a different view. But not tonight.Well, that's all rather depressing. I got better, I'll have you know. And I don't miss working at the Ren Faire. I mean, I'm still alone, but rarely lonely. Just... sometimes.
I'm taking a brief break from the day's craziness to toss out a request for advice. See, I have this grand idea that I'll buy a new laptop with my year-end bonus in December, and yes, I know it's only September, but I'm a "plan-ahead" kind of gal. Ideally, I want something light, and fast, and not extragavantly priced, that I can play CoH on as easily as I can write the Great American Novel. I want to have a nice, long-lasting battery life, or at least the ability to extend it. And wireless internet (or is that a given nowadays?). Oh, and I use a PC.
Fell in love with my new digital cable box last night, as I set it up to tape the entire series of Lost, The O.C., Gilmore Girls, Arrested Development, Kitchen Confidential, and whatever else came into my head as I played with it. Even recorded The Daily Show, and started watching it on a few-minute delay so we were able to skip some of the commercials. Good stuff. Really good stuff.
So, every year my brother arranges a golf tournament in memory of my dad. He's been doing it for -- let's see -- 18 years? That can't be right... Anyway, my job has always been to help with the all-important beer cart driving. This year, because I'll be out of the office for the week before the tournament in Germany, and have been rather strenuously encouraged to be right back to work on the following Monday (the date of the tournament), I'm going to have to miss it. Which is a shame, and I'm annoyed, but since there's nothing really I can do about it, what's the use in complaining?
The moon was still up, shining brightly on the waters of the bay as we drove to Sandy Hook yesterday morning around 5am. I haven't seen that side of the clock since... well, since last year's triathlon. I sat in the backseat of Yi Shun and Jim's car, arm around their happy little hound, listening to my iPod as I struggled to wake up. As Rufus Wainwright's Hallelujah played in my ears, our caravan of cars joined others on the road to the race site, other bleary-eyed racers with their bikes in racks on top of their cars merging with the line of traffic like some silent, choreographed ballet, conducted by race volunteers waving lit batons, pointing us towards parking.
Trying to get a few more things done before taking off for the weekend. The pile of manuscripts on my desk, which seemed so bearable earlier this week, has grown exponentially. I don't have to read ALL of them, and some of them I can take my time about, but still... several hundreds of pages to get through. *Sigh*
This has been a sort of weird work day. I had to get up by myself today -- which, ok, so you're all like "What? Big deal!" -- but I usually can trust my roomie to knock on my door as he goes into the shower, and it's that knock, more so than the alarm clock which I snooze every nine minutes, which gets me up and going. But he (the roomie, not the alarm clock, which is sexless) was working from home today, or as I like to refer to it: "working" from home, so he slept in.
So... it's really happening. Yup. I'm really doing it again. The only difference is, this time? I am so not prepared. Not. As in, not in the least.
She stares at the blank space on her computer screen, willing the words to come. Surely, she thinks, if I just wait long enough, inspiration will strike. The minutes tick by... tick... tick... tick... marked by the tiny digital clock in the corner of her screen, always a few minutes off from the clock on her telephone, which is off from the one on her wrist. Where do all those little minutes go? Between "I have plenty of time" and "Oh no, I'm late"?
There are some things that are hard for me to write about, to talk about. My dad's death when I was a teenager, the recent devastation of New Orleans, and 9/11 are pretty much on the top of that list right now. Needless to say, 9/11 is a topic of much conversation right now here in New York, and I'm sure a lot of people -- good people, strong people -- are writing about it and sharing their experiences. I'm not sure I'm there yet.
Ok, so I'm sitting here, still in my pajamas (because it's Saturday, and I can do that), paying someone to clean my apartment while I browse the 'net. Actually, this is better than before, when she was cleaning my bedroom while I sat in the living room watching tv. And not just any tv, but TLC's "Clean Sweep." There's just levels and levels of irony or something there.
When my little blog existed on Diaryland, I found that it felt like more than enough to update it every week or so, every couple of days at the most. Here though, where I know (or think I know) that there's a whole wonderful group of folks reading and commenting, and (if they're anything like me with other people's blogs) checking it regularly, I want to update more frequently. So, yes, some of what I throw up here may be useless crap, but some, I hope, may spark some fun "conversations." Or whatever we call the chain comment-leaving that we do.
I went to bed early last night, victim of one of those annoying headaches that comes after a cocktail or two, not enough to actually get buzzed, just enough to throw your whole evening out of whack. I'd wanted to get a lot more work done on this great idea I had for a non-fiction book proposal, but aside from fixing a few typos I'd found in what I'd already written, I didn't get much done. So, to bed.
... that despite my earlier post I'm no longer doing the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. Not because it's a bad charity (it isn't), or because I'm lazy (I'm not, usually), but because the organizers of the event require all participants to raise a minimum of $1,800 in order to participate. Which, after my earlier charitable efforts this year for the Revlon Run/Walk, and coupled with the Danskin Tri, is just way too much. So I'm putting a cap on my fundraising efforts for them now (they can keep my $55 registration fee), and will try to figure out a way to get those folks who already donated to have their money applied towards my friend Matt's efforts.
Ok, so I've been futzing with the blog template here for the last few days, trying out Front Page, hoping to figure out what all the html codes mean and how they work, and I think I've finally gotten most of it to where I want it to be. Maybe. Though I'd be more than happy to play around with it some more, if I could find someone to talk me through it. I think that's the thing -- I can mess around with it for ages more, but without knowing what I'm doing, it's just me messing around. If anyone wants to volunteer to talk me through a few more changes -- I really want this page in shades of purple rather than blue, I think -- I'll be happy to take you up on it.
It's official! I just posted the following over on my diaryland site.
Exciting news, kiddies. I've decided I want to be able to get comments on my blog, and I just know you've been chomping at the bit to comment, and since I'm not prepared to pay for a Super-gold membership here at Diaryland, I'm moving the rantings and ravings of ktbuffy over to blogger.
It'll take me a little time, but I'm hoping to move all of my archives over there, so you won't miss a single delicious word I've ever written. Because I know you were anxious.
Anyway, I feel more grown-up and trendy directing people to my blog rather than my online diary here.
So come on by and drop me a line! Oh, and feel free to let me know if you know anything about html. I want to change the format a bit, and could use some help. Or a swanky program like Front Page.