A time to rest and think

The track season is finally over.  I have a jumble of mixed feelings ranging from sadness over not seeing that bunch of cool guys anymore to happiness at not having to struggle along on hard runs behind those cool guys anymore.  We’ll see which side of the spectrum wins out eventually but for now, I’m happy to just hang out, nap, watch good television and chill with friends instead of running myself silly.  A break will be good and I’m excited to be able to plan things with people at 4:00 in the afternoon again.

I also picked up an old story that I haven’t really touched in a few months.  I wrote just a little bit of it and then left it, partially because winter break was here and all I wanted to do was sleep, eat, and watch BSG, but it was also partially because writing is just a little bit easier for me when I can do it in my mind.  That story, a tale about a land called Other, has been sitting on the bench in the back of my head, just waiting for me to notice it.  Well, today I finally did.  It’s pretty rough and there is a lot of reorganizing and reshaping that should happen before I start writing new stuff, but it feels good to be back there.  I had forgotten how much I enjoyed those characters and that setting and it was nice to be in Other again.

On a totally unrelated note, Dollhouse was excellent this past week.  I am planning on doing a longer post about it tomorrow but suffice it to say for now, Alan Tudyk is my hero.  Thank you Joss for bringing him back to us.

Man in the mirror

There is a man with a green face.  He doesn’t have eyes.  He doesn’t have a mouth.  I guess he doesn’t really have a face.  But if he did, it would be green.  Like green spandex pulled tight over a mannequin’s head, that’s what he looks like.  I don’t get a really good look at him because he’s scary and it’s hard to look at him and run too.  I’m running through a tunnel of mirrors and he’s everywhere, including ahead of me.  That’s why it’s so hard to run because no matter where I go, I’m always running to him.  I don’t know what he wants with me (yeah I do) and I don’t know why he won’t leave me alone (yeah I do).

Old Man

There is an old man that works in a graveyard.  I see him often.  I like to wave at him.  Apparently, he doesn’t like to wave to me.  Whenever I see him I get the impression that he is more comfortable bent in half than standing up.  The upper half of his body hangs over his waist, putting him at almost a 90 degree angle all the time.  This causes his eyes to normally be directed to the ground, in search perhaps of a stray hose but he does notice me and when he does, I get a chance to see a pair of bright blue eyes gleaming from the midst of skin, probably the texture of leather, covered in dirt.  He has large glasses that cover most of his face but for me they just magnify his eyes.  Leeland (that’s who he is to me) doesn’t so much walk as shuffle about the graveyard.  His whole body sort of jives up and down as he walks, like a dancer, all alone, being moved by an ensemble with a bopping bassline and a snappy drumbeat.  Leeland never waves at me and that’s ok.  He never responds to my cries of ‘Hello’ or ‘How’s it going?” and that’s ok too.  He is still one of the most interesting people that I have ever met.

Wine and Berries

Wild patches of waterberry plants sprinkle the countryside around Tempest.  Waterberries are spherical with little squishy spines sticking out everywhere.  Waterberries are a dark shade of green.  Waterberries are delicious.  Waterberry wine is produced in Tempest and is the choice drink of all the smart, good looking Tempest folk.