(no subject)
Nov. 9th, 2005 04:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I have a weird child. He won't eat oatmeal (and I'll let DH see for himself why I'm not trying that again ), but he'll eat cheerios. He won't eat mashed sweet potatoes, but he'll eat spicy curried veggies. He liked the harira I made last night, and loved the zucchini bread, but freaked out when we tried to give him some beef brisket. Strange, but makes our eating more interesting!
Okay, I know at least one of my friends has said this already, but NaNo is whoopin my behind. I've switched plots and stories three times so far, and although I've determined the last change (to the one I was originally going to write, but got scared off because it's sci-fi/fantasy [yes, both] and I hadn't done any prep work on creating the world or anything) is a good one, I've only written something like 400 words. Pathetic. However, it's not like I've been wasting my time (like I usually do). I managed to get the stairwell walls painted, finally, meals cooked, house cleaned, and art made with more visual ideas virtually storming their way out of my head. This is all very, very cool.
I love being healthy again!
The sucky thing is that it gets dark way, way too early nowadays. And I haven't resolved the furnace crapfest yet. But on the whole, life is improving (just in time for SAD to kick in)! I even figured out a way to keep Babe from messing about on the computer (for the short term). Yay!
Right, that's enough blathering. Onto more important things.
Snape's Journal
Jan. 5, 1998
Classes started again. Little blighters are even denser than usual thanks to the air of celebration going around. I hope it isn't contagious. I do not want to be caught in a frivolous mood. That is, I do not want to be caught in a frivolous mood. What the hell is going on here? Neither time did I intend to write (did I even think?) the word 'caught', and yet it spurted forth like some damned stream of consciousness crap Muggle psychologists rave about (Have I mentioned lately that I hate my dad?) (May he rest in peace) (In Hell, where he belongs).
Why am I writing in here anyway? Before this journal came into my possession, I never had the inclination to write in a diary, so why now?
Damn Albus! He must have got wind of the gift idea, and poof! Suddenly I'm compelled to write my innermost feelings without even being able to censor them? I'd wager anything he thought it was for my own good, as well.
Bloody goat. Well, now that I know, I can resist. If necessary I will find out what charm he used and reverse it. But I am not writing anymore unless I can tell my own bloody journal that all I want is to be left alone to wallow in my happiness.
DAMN IT!
Okay, I know at least one of my friends has said this already, but NaNo is whoopin my behind. I've switched plots and stories three times so far, and although I've determined the last change (to the one I was originally going to write, but got scared off because it's sci-fi/fantasy [yes, both] and I hadn't done any prep work on creating the world or anything) is a good one, I've only written something like 400 words. Pathetic. However, it's not like I've been wasting my time (like I usually do). I managed to get the stairwell walls painted, finally, meals cooked, house cleaned, and art made with more visual ideas virtually storming their way out of my head. This is all very, very cool.
I love being healthy again!
The sucky thing is that it gets dark way, way too early nowadays. And I haven't resolved the furnace crapfest yet. But on the whole, life is improving (just in time for SAD to kick in)! I even figured out a way to keep Babe from messing about on the computer (for the short term). Yay!
Right, that's enough blathering. Onto more important things.
Snape's Journal
Jan. 5, 1998
Classes started again. Little blighters are even denser than usual thanks to the air of celebration going around. I hope it isn't contagious. I do not want to be caught in a frivolous mood. That is, I do not want to be caught in a frivolous mood. What the hell is going on here? Neither time did I intend to write (did I even think?) the word 'caught', and yet it spurted forth like some damned stream of consciousness crap Muggle psychologists rave about (Have I mentioned lately that I hate my dad?) (May he rest in peace) (In Hell, where he belongs).
Why am I writing in here anyway? Before this journal came into my possession, I never had the inclination to write in a diary, so why now?
Damn Albus! He must have got wind of the gift idea, and poof! Suddenly I'm compelled to write my innermost feelings without even being able to censor them? I'd wager anything he thought it was for my own good, as well.
Bloody goat. Well, now that I know, I can resist. If necessary I will find out what charm he used and reverse it. But I am not writing anymore unless I can tell my own bloody journal that all I want is to be left alone to wallow in my happiness.
DAMN IT!
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 10:49 pm (UTC)I don't blame him on the oatmeal. I don't like it either, but I do have a strange affection for uncooked oats and honey. Mmmm. That's a hippie childhood favorite from slightly later in childhood.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 10:55 pm (UTC)The thing I don't get about him not liking oatmeal is that, for a few months there, I survived on the stuff while carrying him. I'll have to try him on homemade granola at some point (when he's allowed some sugar, in a few years)...
I'll get those b-day pics to you (there were some cute ones, in case I didn't say so before) if you're still interested.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 10:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-10 12:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-11 02:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-10 01:17 am (UTC)Ooh, a journal that makes you write the truth. That's a mean gift for a sneaky Slytherin. I love it. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-11 02:53 am (UTC)Thanks!