Radiogurl a la Carte

Friday, Nov. 03, 2006
Small World War After All

I decided to do something wholly ridiculous and exceptionally audacious. I signed up for nanowrimo and actually did begin writing.

God knows I don't have enough time to write, much less come up with anything resembling a plot. But as my long-time readers know, that hasn't stopped me yet.

I don't have a title, and I started three days late. I have thirty twenty-seven days to pen 50,000 words. I'm up to about a thousand or thereabouts tonight and have absolutely no idea where I'm going with the story, and certainly have no intention of publishing the end result, which will more than likely end up looking like a very smart or very lucky monkey got ahold of the keyboard and managed to get a few whole words typed out, albeit in no particularly cohesive order.

One of the paragraphs in my opening chapter:

As is usual for a Friday night, my assigned parking space was occupied when I got home, so I had to park on the street and carry my sugar-and-MSG-laden booty an extra block and up the flight of stairs, setting it down on a very dubious section of cement balcony while I unlocked the door, and listening to every intimate sound uttered by my amorous neighbors as they broadcast their bedroom doings. (At least, they were quite adamant in repeating, "FUCK YOU!")

Yeah, it's been one of those so-far-off-center-it's-nosebleed-seat-time days today. A perfect day for writing, hehehe.

MC spent the afternoon at the library again, since there's high-speed Internet available there for free and he was elated over how much he'd been able to accomplish yesterday. I picked him up shortly before time for my day to be over and brought him with me back to the office, figuring it was my turn for show-and-tell this week. As I expected, he was shanghai'ed by my boss, whose face lit up like a Christmas tree because he could speak to someone in his native language again.

MC also confirmed pretty much what I'd already figured out. Part of the reason my boss is so annoying is a combination of extreme homesickness and insecurity. Part of it is that he really is a spoiled brat who likes to get his way, screw the costs, too, but I'd also figured that out a while back.

It was kind of funny - my boss obviously has no control whatsoever over MC, and MC was sitting there talking back and forth, albeit with a royally bemused expression for a lot of the conversation. Boss, meanwhile, was positively glowing as he continued his almost nonstop chatter. But MC figures it paid off, since my boss gave him a bag of "black gold," as he described it, a kind of black licorice candy that's almost too salty to qualify as a sweet. MC was rhapsodizing over the fact that he received a small bag of the stuff, though, figuring it's likely to be the last he has in a long while.

Whereas now that I know he likes it, I'll see if I can't order it online now and again. I'm just not telling him until I know for sure it's available.

Besides which, my boss will probably now pester me at every opportunity to bring MC in to chatter. And I probably will. My co-workers will love me for it, because while Boss and MC are chattering, Boss isn't harassing the people who work for him!

Before - After

In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )