Well, Mer is back in the US, and I am a day late with my last guest entry. I will spare you my ramblings on the one over-riding topic in my life these days (the house hunt) and dazzle you with random bits of my evening so that you will be even happier that Mer will be retaking control of her journal.
Michigan finally decided to play along with the fact that it's, oh, spring, and I am happily sitting here in a tank top, watching the cats fight over the back of the couch by the doorwall, and breathing in the night air before the neighbors start smoking and I have to close everything up.
I am watching a scintillating cinematic offering on SciFi - "Deep Core." From the previews I had deemed it to be a direct rip-off of "The Core," but now that I see wil Wheaton's character doing body shots off a very scantily clad woman, I can totally see how it's a very different movie. Even with whole drilling to the core of the Earth in an experimental device to save the planet because someone decided using science for evil would be a good idea and now man is at risk from his own hubris.
Okay, so it's still a pretty direct rip-off of "The Core," but hey, Wil Wheaton and body shots. Can't go wrong there.
Thanks to my guestbloggers. I'm impressed. You know... Y'all didn't have to write about me. Still, very entertaining, and I'm glad the place wasn't empty while I was gone.
Let's see... While I was gone...
Well, this is my writing journal, so I'll tell you how I didn't write anything. Not completely true, of course: I outlined another novel, and I wrote a short story by hand, and I took a LOT of notes on what I saw/thought/did.
I also collected a stock of experiences appropriate for a fantasy writer, including learning how to shoot a bow. (Actually, that was so much fun, I'm sorta considering taking up archery, as long as I could keep it primitive and not have to go to competitions.) I also spent some time working out my writing goals for the rest of this year and broadly for next year. I know, I know! That's exactly what you were hoping I'd say!
More later. My body is trying to convince me that it's three hours past bed-time.
A few weeks ago, Mer asked me if I'd guest-blog for her.
I agreed, but I'd been having trouble coming up with a topic as of last week. I'd hate for all of the Writer's Paradise faithful to think I was boring or unoriginal.
After voicing this opinion, Merrie handed a topic to me on a silver platter:
"Well, I mean, outside of Dann, Julie, and a few other people, you're probably one of the people I spend most of my time with, as we're at work 8 hours a day."
Hmmm... WorkMer. It had potential.
For those of you who don't know, here's the Cliffs Notes version: When I came to U of M, I started working at MITS, where Merrie had a supervisory position. She went back to school and stopped being my immediate boss, but I still saw her frequently around the office. After she graduated, she went to work over in Reserves, and promptly recruited me for a higher-paying and less stressful job. W00t.
So, I've had the privilege of seeing an extraordinary number of her personality quirks and work habits. Here are a few:
States of Mind:
-TiredMer: Usually from 8AM-9:30AM and again from 2PM to 3PM (the latter also known as FoodComaMer). When TiredMer is at the helm, the conversations go like this "Meh. Gedda donutz (or "gedda pop.") I needa wakeup. I payoo ifyoo go." It's always a treat to come back with donuts/pop and have it be a surprise because she forgot she sent you.
-AngryMer: The people we need to deal with on a daily basis would drive Gandhi to distraction. It's become a source of entertainment for me to sit back and listen to her try to calmly explain things to people when it's quite clear what she really wants to do is strangle them through the phone. Usually, this particular state involves much shaking of the fists and choice epithets (actual quote: "GAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!").
-IHaveAStoryForYouMer, A.K.A. HeartAttackMer: This particular isotope is so named because she will, without warning, suddenly remember something she wanted to relate. It's usually accompanied by her shooting backward from her desk on her office chair, executing a 90-degree turn to her right, and shouting "OHMYGOD! I just remembered!" with enough speed and surprise that I generally need to keep a few nitro pills on hand.
Workplace Enemies:
-The Filing Cabinet of Zapping +3: For those of you who have seen Office Space (and for those of you who have not, I'll wait. Back? Good.), picture Ron Livingston walking through the door in the morning. The one that shocks him every day. We've got a filing cabinet that does the same thing. The funny thing is, it only ever gets her. This encounter is usually known to briefly summon AngryMer.
-The Sloping Floor: We've got this patch of floor by her desk that, without fail, will cause her to stumble at least once a day. She maintains that it's slightly sloped. There have been, at last count, 3,500 hours spent debating if it does, in fact, exist. I have included a picture, with the angles clearly displayed - you be the judge:
______________________________
Any takers? Didn't think so.
-Harmonica Man: 3 words - Raw. Seething. Hatred. Having spent the last week and a half sitting in her chair, I can't say I blame her. This guy must have had his harmonica crafted to produce a frequency that falls squarely in the range of maximum irritation. And he's out there EVERY DAY.
So, I think I've blathered enough to get myself into trouble when she gets back (and I hope it's been entertaining). Needless to say, the job has its rough patches sometimes, but when working with Mer, it is never, ever boring.
So I was all excited about a chance to write guest entries in Mer's blog--but I never stopped to figure out what I'd write about. Oops.
It's weird to stop and think that if it weren't for the fact that I have an online journal and the fact that Julie has an online journal, I never would have met Mer or a lot of the other people I hang around with nowadays. Further, if Julie and I hadn't recognized each other's inherent geekiness, and decided to cheer each other on for NaNoWriMo--well... a lot of writerly insanity would have been avoided.
And that would have been an enormous shame.
Mer is often both my inspiration and my goad as a writer. She manages to stay so productive, and her writing is so lovely, that she keeps me going when sometimes I might rather lie drooling in front of the television. Sure, sometimes it's jealousy that drives me. Sometimes it's (yes, Eric, I admit it) a competitive nature. Whatever it is, I'm grateful for it. Getting to know Mer (and Julie and everybody else) has made me a better writer. Not to mention it's been a whole lot of fun.
I'm glad I got a chance to get to know this particular wacky subsection of Ann Arbor geekdom. Hoorah for the internet, I suppose. ;)
Hi all, Jason here, guest-blogging while Mer's across the broad Atlantic.
Happy birthday to Mer
Happy birthday to Mer
Happy birthday, dear MerBear
Happy birthday to Mer!
I'm not sure if it was really the first time I met her, but the first time I remember meeting Mer was a Halloween party. She dressed as Paddington, complete with face paint to give her a little black nose. It was positively adorable. I immediately determined to make friends with her and turn her mean. I give myself a B+ for effort and a C for results. Sad.
We go looking at houses tomorrow.
The realtor is taking us around to six places. None of them looked like our dream home in the little black-and-white flyer pictures, but at the very least it will give us a better idea of exactly what we're looking for.
Not that we have any real idea what we're looking for. Okay, Dwinn probably has an idea, but right now my big qualifications are: three bedrooms, two baths, a basement, and hardwood floors. And a double sink in the kitchen. Beyond that...
I mean, I have ideas. The master bath that's as big as my current living room with the sunken tub, or the glassed-in sunporch, or the mosaic tiled floor sitting room with my lemon-yellow velvet sofa. The library. The office with built in bookshelves (because I will never have enough bookshelves). The self-cleaning kitchen. The self-washing and self-folding laundry. The little button by the bed that I can push to teleport the cats into a locked cell in the basement at six a.m.
Alas, all that is well beyond our means.
Except the lemon-yellow velvet sofa.
-Julie
FairMer Factoids (as observed by me, the dwinn)
That's all for today, kids.
[clears throat]
Um, hi, my name is Meera, and I am a guest blogger. I shall be blogging at irregular times today and perhaps on other days during the Fair One's absence.
Have you ever wondered if people sitting down to a quiet (if savage) game of cards with their friends have the host suddenly up and shout, "Let's Get Ready to RUMMY!"
I hadn't until this very moment, but now it's on my mind. Somehow it comes from looking up the definition of the word "fracas." "Fracas" is a word I know, but have never really used before. Some of the synonyms include, "affray," (which is a great word in itself!) and "commotion," while related words like "broil" and "melee" are fairly commonly used in my household.
"Broil" was used last night, in fact. I recall the conversation. "OK," my husband said, "I've set the oven on broil. What temperature do I set it to?"
"Broil," came the answer in stereo.
However, now the word is looking odd, like repeated words often do, and it looks vaguely like a Tolkien dwarf name. "Broil Angusburger." Along with his trusty axe, "Catsup," he'll cut through "Master Mustard" and his evil band of orc condiments.
Lettuce end on that note... because I'm not talking about Broil's buns.
I've been sitting here all day thinking "April third... April third... what am I forgetting..."
So yes, Mer is letting her friends take over while she is belatedly honeymooning in Scotland. Trusting soul, isn't she?
Oooh, ad for the Nick and Jessica Variety Hour. Which I will (sadly) watch. Back around the beginning of Newlyweds, Dwinn and I were over at Chez Fuller and conversation somehow turned to the topic of the show. As Mer (who also adores its trainwreck-edness) and I were trading a recounting of one episode, Dwinn turns to me, eyes filled with betrayal, and said, "You *watch* that show?"
Priceless.
I can't help it. The juxtaposition of Nick's innate midwestern practicality and Jessica's "Please, please tell me the stupidity is an affectation" naiveté has a disturbing allure. Plus, I'm just that bad a person that I like to laugh at dumb people.
-Julie