Dear Diary

Dear Diary - November 1998

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After the Dance
by John William Waterhouse

Friday, November 6, 1998

Monday, November 9, 1998

Friday The Thirteenth!!! (November, 1998)

Moonday, November 16, 1998

Ugh. Monday. Why does Monday have to start the week? I rather like the Moon, and I rather dislike starting a new work week. Especially when my job is as boring as this one. I get so bored, I think I'll go nuts sometimes, and the work is tedious, monotonous and constant. I'm damaging my right (writing) hand, as all I do is copy information (by hand) from files onto paper. Ugh. And when I get the 2000 files done? Ahhhh, then I get to type them into their system. I get to write it all over again. ...Ok, I'm not gonna cry here in front of you all, I'm just not. I shall just repeat to myself, over and over:
"There are worse jobs; it pays well"
"There are worse jobs; it pays well"
And I was going to talk about the moon! Well, the new moon is on Thursday, so I really haven't been seeing her lately. Not that you often see the night sky around here in the haze/fog/smog/I doan' wanna think about it.

This new book I'm reading, In the Land of Winter by Richard Grant, has gotten me thinking about my pagan roots. Not that I was raised pagan, no, I was shuttled off to Presbyterian Sunday School for several years when I was young. But my folks never really fussed when we didn't want to keep going. I secretly feel that this was something they thought they should expose us to, or at least try to persuade us in. When Holly and I got into paganism a few years back, my parents were incredibly cool about it. My mother even used "thank gods" in her latest email to me, probably to tease me about using it, but she's using the phrase nonetheless. I can only sorta do the pagan swear thing, anyway, as I picked up the Midwestern Sin of Using the Lord's Name in Vain. (Or is it Vane? Oh, dear. David?) Jesus Christ! and Goddammit are two of my favorites.

Ack! I'm putting a paragraph in because I was off on another damn tangent. ANYhow, the book, In the Land of Winter has a main character, Pippa, who lives with her elderly aunt and her 10-yr-old daughter (maiden, mother, crone, uh, not in that order) and is what seems to be a solitary practitioner of magic. Wicca? The one ritual described has a nice, loose feel to it, which reminds me of the freedom of Lothlorien as I knew it. I don't think I like the city much. I miss trees. I miss wild areas, open areas, quiet areas. Urf! I'm so homesick these days, guys. I miss my family so much. I know, I'm going home in 32 days, but the closer the date gets, the more I miss them. This is the first time in my life that I've been away from home for a whole year. Oh, I miss my sister something fierce. I think Holly's my soulmate (or one of them), and I'm just not used to being away from her like this for so long. And so far away, too! Even when she went to school in Chicago, I still saw her at least every three months.

Ok, fit over. Back to my regularly scheduled journal entry:

Mary Anne's been lamenting about her latest story in her journal lately. I know how she feels. Did I tell you I *finally* wrote a new story? Yup. Got the whole draft done, and was pleased to get that much done. It got me out of bed on numerous occasions, begging for bits to be written down. It finally kept me up all night one Wednesday, and by Thursday afternoon I felt as if I'd just been thrown clear of the mauling arms of a beast. Thing is, it still needs some work. Some major work, perhaps. But every time I sit down to work on this thing, I only get 3 versions of the same tale, over and over. And I have no idea which ones to use, or how to place them all together. So, I untangle the hairy limbs and leave the story. For awhile. Longer.

Friday, November 20, 1998

Saturday, November 21, 1998

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