May 6th, 2011



38 days.

State of the 'Song
Exhausted. Well, I did work a double yesterday.

State of the WTD
Today I hope, I am sorry, I am still having April madness overflow. I really wish I had this weekend off, but I so do not.

You may get morose-'song anyway, be warned. I'm stuck on the prompt "bells" and my brain won't go past it.

All the Speeches Ever
My speech Saturday will be my fourth survivor speech in three weeks. Generally I might do four in a year. This is a lot of that really close together. The speeches are awesome to do, they help a lot of people, et cetera, but I can't say that self-eviscerating in rapid succession like that is a thing that I would like to do again. Fortunately, we're having a survivor speaker training in June, so we'll have a few more people to take on gigs and I can go back to couple-times-a-year. Basically, I regret nothing, but I'll be happy to take a month off (I'll be speaking at the training in June).

No Link Soup Today
Because I was not really internetting yesterday.

Daily Science
Oddities in the rotation of Saturn's largest moon Titan might add to growing evidence that it harbors an underground ocean, researchers suggest.

Friday Memeage!
Wearing: Last year I found a button-down shirt that actually fit so I bought it in six colors. Today I am wearing that in purple, plus jeans.
Reading: Between books, but about to be The Information by James Gleick.
Writing: The crafters' guide to Shayara, and I need to do WTD.
Knitting: At the end of Nerd Wars, I had an attack of startitis. Baby blanket for a co-worker, wrap in purple/blue for me/Elayna, and the priority: sekrit knitting for a beloved friend.
Today: Work, writing, seeing hammercock in Yeomen of the Guard.
Tomorrow: Slutwalk! My speech is ~1:30-2:00? But I'll stay for the after-party, as much as I can.
Sunday: Mother's Day! And as far as I know I have no plans. *eyes family*


Things involving timing are hilarious for me this week. But here, have a story.

So I've been having agita about a bunch of things related to tomorrow's big speech; if any one or two of the things was a factor, I think I would be totally chill, but there are like four or five things, so I am not chill. As the dashing aquila_dominus reminded me, I will be absolutely fine once I hit the stage. So I was beginning to feel slightly settled about that, and then, oh hey!

My story "Fortune" is up at ChiZine now.

It's a companion piece to "The Angel of Fremont Street". It's also possibly the most deeply personal thing I've written, save for Cicatrix, and it mines much of the same territory.

"Fortune" was pulled out of me over two days that I spent typing with one hand and with the other pressed over my mouth because that's what I subconsciously do when things are too much. I've read it aloud twice. On the circus-family train trip from Chicago, in the middle of the night in the dining car; at StrowlerCon, by circus-family request. Both times people cried. So. I would find it an honor if you read it, but leave yourself space for self-care.

If you're going to hear my survivor speech tomorrow, you can consider parts of this a preview.

If you think you know what the longest night of my life was, and you haven't read this story, I can almost guarantee you you're wrong.

This quote has been haunting me all week.

From Terry Pratchett's Hogfather:

Death: Humans need fantasy to *be* human. To be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape.
Susan: With tooth fairies? Hogfathers?
Death: Yes. As practice, you have to start out learning to believe the little lies.
Susan: So we can believe the big ones?
Death: Yes. Justice, mercy, duty. That sort of thing.
Susan: They're not the same at all.
Death: You think so? Then take the universe and grind it down to the finest powder, and sieve it through the finest sieve, and then show me one atom of justice, one molecule of mercy. And yet, you try to act as if there is some ideal order in the world. As if there is some, some rightness in the universe, by which it may be judged.
Susan: But people have got to believe that, or what's the point?
Death: You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?