It's been ages and years and lifetimes since I posted anything online anywhere but facebook and message boards. It's not that facebook is so much more enticing, in fact, I desperately miss the ability to sit still, and think thoughts, and put them down in writing, but I have so. little. time. and so much to say, and I sit down, and all these thoughts flutter into me like little half-formed butterflies, and I end up saying nothing because I can't sort it all out. I update Facebook with some lame status, and wonder where my time went, as I go play blocks with my kid.

I know I have my priorities in order. I wouldn't change anything. Doesn't mean I don't miss the way it used to be. It's taken some time to get my brain rearranged.

I'm trying to switch jobs (again). There is too much bile taken out on me for things that I can't fix here. Management has had conversations about how they'd hate to see me go. I smile and nod and work my ass off, but will drop this job like a hot potato, if I can find something better. The economic climate is not one that will allow me to just quit, like I'd like to. I'm committed to working full time until Robb is done with school. Frustrating, but again. Priorities. When he's through school, and finds a better job than the one he currently has, maybe I won't have to work full time.

Big realization of the month; while I love my mother very much, I don't respect her at all. I don't think she did a particularly good job of being a mom. I think she could have protected me more, and allowed her to protect me less. It's why I hated the first four seasons of Gilmore Girls; they had the relationship my mom thought we had, and I wanted Rory to break off, leave her mom in the dust, forget all about her. I'm a little bit broken that way.

I'm dealing with that brokenness every day in my marriage. My head is always looking for ways to prove that I am not loved, I do not deserve this, my wonderful daughter, my amazing husband. It's a constant battle with my own brain, to remind myself that I have worked hard, become a better person, that I do deserve to be loved, to be taken care of, to be respected. It's not easy.

I am finally writing the book about adoption. It's hard. I'm writing about a character who is living in the worst moments I've ever experienced. I was there for maybe ten minutes in thirty years. I'm making her live there, and I don't know if it will get better for her. Ever. That's scary, and makes me feel guilty. I hope that Lia can survive everything I'm putting her through and come through the fire, tempered.

I've submitted the vampire novel to several agents. All of them sent denials within 48 hours. The last agency has had the book for 10 days, and hasn't said no yet. I'm starting to get excited, even though there's miles between this and getting an agent, and lightyears between getting an agent and getting published. It's a start. It's me, putting it out there. Trying.

I'm trying to be brave, every day. Trying to live in the light, and shy away from the darkness, instead of the reverse. It's so hard, so impossibly hard. Thinking about living the whole rest of my life like this makes me dizzy; I don't think about it if I can help it. I take one second at a time, one choice at a time, and focus on honesty, on lovingkindness. Sometimes it makes it harder, because so many people seem to think I have this thing dialed in. Sometimes I'm afraid to fail. Sometimes it's easier, because I have an image to live up to. Sometimes I feel suffocated.

Those are your random thoughts for today.

So, after a fair amount of thought, I'm going to try posting over on Dreamwidth for a little while. I've had this account since Hanna and I were living in California, and it was created out of a particular place, in a particular mindset, to deal with particular things. After a lot of time, I feel like I've grown past those things, and it's time to raze this last remnant of that time. I may cross-post a few things here, especially since Dreamwidth makes it easy to do so, but if you're over there as well, let me know your name so we can hook up.

It's Violets_and_Lilacs there; as I said, it's time for a change. I'm no longer Ariel, and I'm no longer singing the blues. Time to move on.

I do currently have one more code, if anyone wants it (or still reads this at all). Douglas, I already sent you one.

I've thought since I was about fifteen that I was addicted to coffee. I joke about it -- I drink coffee so that I don't shoot heroin or something, hahaha. I have an addictive personality, but only to coffee, hahaha.

But here's what I realized this morning, as I was debating the merits of a local coffeeshop versus the merits of Starbucks. I was rolling the facts around in my mind, noting that the coffee at the local place is MUCH. BETTER. but I had best have ten minutes available to wait for the barristas to circumnavigate their attitude just so I can get a toasted bagel, and god help me if I ask for whipped cream on my mocha. But if I get my morning mocha at Starbucks, it tastes assembly line. Because, well, it is. The atmosphere is shiny, the people are shiny, the coffee is shiny.

And I realized, all of a sudden, I don't give a crap about coffee. In fact, I hate coffee. I think it tastes like crap. It tastes like licking the inside of a trash bin. Mochas are a chocolate milk delivery system for grownups. I let them put coffee in the cup so I can pretend I'm really an adult, but really, I'm more thinking about all the times Mom said I had to drink "real" milk with my cereal.

What I'm completely addicted to is the coffeeshop culture. The Starbucks Democrats and the Dunkin Donuts Republicans is not such a bad generalization. Like every generalization, it falls down if you look at it too hard, so it has limited value, but if you want to make a sweeping statement about the lines upon which society breaks down...it kind of works.

I have nothing more interesting to say on this point, but here we are. :)

because I got a dreamwidth code to try it out, and fiddled with it, and posted a whole long thing that I crossposted here, and it said it was posted, and apparently it was instead eaten by the interweb.

cranky cranky cranky.

How is it not Friday? really and truly.

I need a patron.

I had more, but really, this says it all.

I keep looking for something eloquent and meaningful and beautiful to say about my wedding, but I don't have any words yet. I felt every moment of it, and for ten hours or so, I lived like a poet, but what they don't tell you is that when you're really living your life, you don't make such good memories of what you're living -- it's kind of an interesting deal, at least for me. Experience it, or remember it later. I don't remember what Reverend O'Brien said to us -- other than he kept saying we were embarking on a great adventure, and that triggered both the silly song from the beginning of the animated Hobbit for me, and also when Lucy takes off running, we always say she's going on a 'venture.

But I remember the look in Robb's eyes when we turned to each other to say our vows. I remember the way his voice cracked -- just a touch -- when he said the words "I take you to be my wedded wife."

And I will never, ever forget the rush of emotion when my Dad said he wanted to share our dance with all my fathers. I never knew he had such graciousness in him. He's a better man than I thought, and I'm so grateful for the gift he gave me.

It was a beautiful day, and I'm so thankful we had so many wonderful friends there to share it with. And a huge, special thanks to the folks who hung out and played poker with us until 1:30 am; it was the perfect end to our wedding day.

Well, not quite the end, of course. We went upstairs, and made wonderful, fantastic love to each other.

I didn't know our relationship could be even closer, even more secure, even more perfect.

I will post pictures when I get them. :)

So happy.

I'm getting married in -- what is it, six weeks now? And for the first time in a very long time, everything -- and I mean everything -- is looking up. I feel energetic, happy, excited, and I'm looking toward the future. I feel unconquerable.

I feel good.

Yay. :)

and need to record it for posterity, and for when I can't remember it next time.

Writing is a job. It's a part-time job, for right now, and it's not a job I am currently getting paid for, but it's a job. Because if it's a job, it's something I have to do even when I don't want to. It's important, and I don't get to slack off from it. I have to take it seriously, and I have to sit down and write every day. Writing being a job doesn't mean that it's not creative, or not . . . I don't know the word I need here, and it's not important.

This is really, really good.

You may now return to your life. And Happy New Year!

However you celebrate, whatever your tradition, have a merry and happy holiday.

Okay, so since Nano finally reopened the author search page, drop me a comment with your Nano name, if you're participating. I'm LilacKristine over there. (And up to 11524 words so far; it's behind where I wanted to be, but not bad, considering the week I've had. And the baby is now in bed for (I hope) the night, so catching up? Could happen...)