The Couch

2008-11-02T20:38:00.000-08:00

NaNo's going well, if a mite slower than usual. My word count, I mean - it could use some improvement, but I'm feeling pretty blah about it at the moment.
I've also taken to writing down whatever pops into my head about my stories, characters, etc. I started that in '06, with Shadows and Moss, though until now, I hadn't done it since. The irony of having only done this one thing for two stories that are both set in the same timeframe and with the same very, very basic plot (search for cure to save the Cyzargavrie) hasn't escaped me. Oddly, I tend to be humourous when I write these things. Shadows and Moss entries were very lively - more so than the current.

So because I'm bored and have nothing better to post, here's Monday's:

Saturday November 1, 2008
3:33am: Ah-ha! The sausages strike again!
Poor Baela’s confused. Why am I noticing a pattern here? In Shadows and Moss, Adan takes Nadya to one side and speaks to her about the conspiracy. In Nightmares and Cross, Adyal takes Baela to one side and speaks to her about… well, I don’t know do I? I haven’t finished writing it!
Oh, and in other news, Baela is psychic.
.
5:39pm: Mother of god, can’t I write anything without going creepy?
Oh, and I’ve put the ‘nightmares’ in Nightmares and Cross.
.
6:59pm: I seem to have intimacy issues. Every time two of my characters are left alone, something’s up. Conspiracies, getting information for unheard plots, outright creepiness and scares… geez, have these people ever heard of a *normal* conversation?

2008-11-01T02:06:00.000-07:00

And once again a large amount of time has lapsed between my last post and my newest one... urgh. Oh well.

So I've had an absolutely insane week; an acquaintance dies, there are TWO fires in town, a relative of mine has surgery, which pretty much takes me out of the picture for most everything except RL until she's fully recovered... my latest assignment is reading The Art of Sun Tzu and marking it for relevence to myself. While spring-cleaning my room, which was last spring-cleaned sometime in the middle of last year. And fending off attacks by four-legged, aggressive, highly aggravated spiders I'd previously sucked up into the vacuum cleaner. And doing NaNoWriMo (yay!).

Yes, folks, I am truly insane.

Also, since I ordered in my demotivational posters, my room looks like an art gallery. Perhaps this has some bearing on my precarious sanity as well.

2008-08-19T11:16:00.001-07:00

Wow it's been a long time since I last posted here! So you'd think a lot has happened (just don't even get me started on the computer issues)... well, one great thing, one good thing, everything else's been pretty dull - unless you count the nose-bleeding volume of the music at someone's 21st at the pub the other night (it doesn't happen often, but I have sensitive hearing and a tendency to want to sleep sometime before five-thirty in the morning). Oh and the uh, lawn mower race.

I swear I'm not joking.

Aye, so really, the good news is I got through April Fools and got past my word count goal of 15 000, reacing 15 307 words in total. And then did SoCNoC (Southern Cross Novel Challenge) in June, reaching 20 764 words, with 29 236 left to go. I then went on to win Zing Thing in July, so overall I'm - by my standards - a very busy writer, and a very happy little camper.

Also, I signed up for a writing class, Holly Lisle's How to Think Sideways, and it's fantastic! I didn't come into the course with many expectations - different schools I was in (way back when. Ha!) would hire authors to present a class on writing, and a few times, the English teachers themselves had a go at it (ironically enough, the only ones who tried that were published authors themselves). Those classes were interesting, but nothing actually stuck. And unfortunately, I remember virtually nothing they taught me.

Which is the reason this class just blew me away.

Besides the advantage of not being in a classroom with someone at the head of the room trying to make themselves heard over the class' usual furore, it's the approach.

Holly incorporates left-brain thinking and right-brain thinking - the muse and the conscious mind. When I go to work on one of the lessons, I'm not sitting down making a list of whatever I happen to think would fit the story. I'm actively evolving it, I'm involved in it.

These plans are something that I actually can (and do) care about, because unlike the approaches I've been taught in the past, and the approach I've been using up until now, it's creative rather than analytical. I've learned that intuition really won't ruin my story - and I've come to realise that the biggest thing I've been doing wrong, was I wasn't feeling enough, I wasn't identifying with the stories I was working on. And I honestly believe that was why I've failed to turn so many great ideas I've had into stories which worked out. I was enthusiastic about the ideas, but I wasn't really... hm... relating to the characters or storyline in the way I needed to. I'd lit a fire in the fireplace, but I'd neglected to remember the wood.

For most people, that would be a redundant statement, but for me... well, it's an eye-opener. And it's only up to Lesson 5! I've been having fun with this new approach (clustering in particular), and I'm looking forward to seeing what the rest of it brings.

2008-04-04T17:58:00.000-07:00

I did a stupid, stupid thing last night. Purely by accident, of course, but somewhere between 500-1000 words have now vanished forever from my Word file. I have no idea how - I accidentally pressed a few buttons, and it magically deleted the first quarter of the chapter. I also lost the last few lines of my previous chapter, but since I'd only just finished writing them, they were easy to replicate, with the original wording intact.

Still irks me though.

Also, my bedroom has been invaded by spiders - one on the bed, one each side of the bed, and one fell out of my nightie when I picked it up. I think maybe they're trying to tell me something. Like don't try to get some sleep. I've been obliging them, mostly because I don't have any choice in the matter.

However. Data losses and spiders aside, my word count is lookin' pretty darn good. My story... does sort of lack a coherent plot at the moment, but I'm getting there. As soon as I re-write the beginning and then finish off Chapter Five, I'll at least have tied together some threads. Also, I've upped my word goal. I'm just writing too efficiently to keep 10k as my goal - I've been averaging over 1, 00o words per day, and I've signed up for a consistency challenge at the 1, 000-word-per-day level.

Of course, my main problem is that I write like mad for the first few days, then the stress of RL creeps in and I can't write anything else for the rest of the month. Hopefully I can stop that habit with the challenge. The world needs more challenges.

However, so far I've had to deal with irate husbands coming back from the dead to rescue their spaced-out wives from state-sanctioned medical experiments, even though the character in question's being saved from the experiment means she can't escape herself when it's half-way through and go on the war-extending rampage-like thing that would have made her the villain of the piece.

I've also been afflicted with a crazy ex-mercenary who thinks he's Frank Spencer.

So here's the word count:

6,212 / 10,000
(62.1%)

2008-03-31T09:57:00.000-07:00

Now I remember why I love writing: the sheer euphoria after hours of grinding your fingers down to bone and the keyboard down to dust, the lovely comments when you've done something right, and the helpful CC when you haven't!

... plus it doesn't hurt that I put good music on when I write!

I have been writing for the April Fools writing competition (pick your own goal - it's fantastic - means you can up your goal if you start to look like reaching it) since 12:01 exactly. I wrote for two hours and thirty-one minutes, and I have two thousand, one hundred and sixty-six words.

Yes, those figures are exact. No, I don't have a life, why do you ask?

Better yet, the music I was listening to (Velcra's new album, Hadal) arrived today - two days' shipping! Priority, of course, but I got them from Finland - and I'm lucky if parcels from my own country take two days to deliver, never mind the other side of the world! Plus, they were really cheap to buy - one CD in Australia costs about $30, two is roughly $60 - Hadal and Consequences of Disobedience, along with shipping, cost me only $37!

So all in all - fantastic day. It can only be improved with some Pepsi Max and further watching of Babylon 5 Series 2 (also newly arrived) and Farscape Season 3 (Crais is not dead, I swear!).

... at some distant date in the future, an archaeologist of some technological variety is going to dig this blog up and wonder how the heck anyone could survive thinking like this...

2008-03-15T01:09:00.001-07:00

Shadows
Shadows of fanblades flash by, and I remember only him. Sitting with his feet propped on the table, chewing the end of a pencil, intent on a crossword puzzle. I’d tease him about being an old woman, and he’d playfully jab at me with his pencil.
Sitting with my head thrown back against the hard wooden chair, watching the fanblades go round and round, shadows dancing on the ceiling, passing oh so quickly… wondering if this is life. Because he died today, ribs crushed under the wheels of a car. Honda Civic. He was only twenty-nine.
And I’m still here.

2008-03-06T06:27:00.001-08:00

Them
What will they be like, a hundred years from now? Looking back on us with a smirk, us and all our modern pretensions. What will go through their minds when they read our literature, our holy books, our lives – like sport to them, as it was to us, or will humanity change and overwhelm?
Because I can’t help but wonder if our habits will apply to them, or if they will overcome them. Or if, more likely, they will take the worst of humanity and set it spinning to excess. We all know the tales and the precedents…

2008-03-05T05:58:00.000-08:00

Past
He came to her at night, like he always had, the tread of his standard-issue GPs heavy on the floor. She turned to one side, facing the wall, and closed her eyes. This is the past. She had made the right decision.
And when her lonely mind felt the fleeting caress of his hand lightly touching her shoulder, as if unsure, she banished him from her mind, and the steps of the past retreated. She missed him, then, the rich laughter they had shared, and his voice, so gentle. The feel of his touch…
But it no longer mattered.
She slept.

2008-03-04T19:22:00.000-08:00

I've barely been able to write since I moved to... ah, the place in life I am now, but what I have been able to... well. I tried, as a challenge, to write some 100 word microfictions. I managed to get five done, but the more I read them, the more I begin to appreciate them. They seem... dark and lonely. Usually I have hell's own job seeing the good in my work so soon after writing it, but I guess my particular genius must lie in short, condensed fiction, because I am seeing it here.

Hm.

In other writing news, have embarked on a bit of script-writing. That's going very well, though my plot seems to be a little different than the one I had planned... well, that always happens. And I'm not complaining, since I do so love my drama/character interaction...

Bah. And without further ado, a new layout.

2007-12-09T21:13:00.000-08:00

It's been such a long time...

2007-10-05T00:59:00.000-07:00

Review of Resident Evil: Apocalypse
I saw and loved the first film, and unfortunately, REA came as something of a disappointment to me. It’s made clear early in the film that the gameplayers are being catered to, though that impression fades pretty quickly as things start settling in. From what little I know of it, there are many things in this film that go against the canon of the game, and the liberties REA takes with its characters and plots won’t be to every fan’s liking. Take this as a warning sign if you are a purist.

However, as I said before, there are game elements in this film; the action scenes are a clear indicator of that. I’m not sure if any of the characters’ moves from the game were in there (obviously, since I have never played the game), but there are some pretty unbelievable stunts and some nice, smooth moves that could only have been envisaged with gameplay in mind.

I did notice one tiny detail about the action scenes most people would have missed, usually because they don’t or don’t care know about it: when aiming and firing her pistol, Jill Valentine relaxes her arms with a slight bend at the elbow, pretty much automatically. Yes, I know I’m a geek, but I love that they pay that much attention to detail. Because that really is how you fire a gun – any other way pulls the muscle.

Also for the gamers are the graphics – on a few occasions, we’re treated to scenes that look like they were taken straight out of the game. A couple of shots look exactly like they came from the game, but only the fans would know whether they really are or they’re just treated to look that way.

One issue I had with REA was its use of deus ex machina – they don’t usually bother me, but the first one, in the church, does. It’s an awesome way to re-introduce Alice, but it feels so overdone it’s difficult to ignore. Also, at a couple of points, REA feels a bit random, as the plot finally asserts itself.

The film also suffers from false ending lulls towards the end – you think it’s finished, but it’s not. Then it looks like it’s finished, but it’s another false ending, and so on. This is only really effective when it’s used in moderation.

Also, what the heck is up with Jill Valentine’s outfit? I get that she’s been suspended from S.T.A.R.S. and can go around wearing whatever clothes she likes – and while we’re at it, since she is suspended and wearing her civvies, why does that guy say they could use her help? Suspension means you’re to be treated as a civilian, until you’re back on duty – but seriously. She’s walking around wearing a tiny outfit in the middle of a zombie outbreak. Most people would have headed for home and grabbed the heaviest clothes they could find. Harder to bite through, and more room to hide weapons and ammo in. Or maybe that’s just me.

REA wasn’t all bad, though – it had some very cool mements, Jill’s discovery of the priest and his sister, Nemesis, the dogs – I love the dogs – those things in the church, the graveyard scene, Angela’s ‘secret’, Alice’s newfound abilities – okay, so most of it was cool. Despite the flaws, these guys really know how to impress.

One other thing the movie should really be congratulated for is Milla Jovovich’s fantastic acting, and the script writers’ and Sienna Guillory’s acting and approach to the character of Jill Valentine. She could so easily have just become a tough woman stereotype, but she’s imbued with enough variety and emotion that it never happens (bar one scene in the beginning). And Alice could have been just some Ripley-from-Resurrection rip-off, but doesn’t come across that way at all.

Resident Evil: Apocalypse is clearly a sequel; although it explains what happened in the previous enough that it is not necessary to watch it first, it moves far too quickly at the beginning for a pure stand-alone, and feels more like chapter two of a book than a movie sequel. But on the other hand, it has a much different feel than Resident Evil… probably, you could watch it on its own, but you stand a fair chance of being put off by just how quickly everything moves along.

Personally, I prefer the more amateur-ish Resident Evil, but Resident Evil: Apocalypse is a film where the whole doesn’t define it; rather, it’s the little things – concepts, fine acting and characterisation, and certain moments in a scene – that make it worth watching. And that is a beautiful way to make a film.

2007-09-25T05:25:00.000-07:00

Chapter 1: Business as Usual
"So Lucy, what do you miss most about civilisation?" Benjamin Ford's voice cut through the night and the thick silence, broken only the crackling fire, that surrounded his companions. One or two glanced at him, then looked away, devoted to their own thoughts.
"Hmm." Lucy Creegan considered for a moment, then smiled the kind of smile people use when they're being unintentionally coy. A dimple flecked her right cheek. "I guess... I miss hot baths most of all." She shrugged, and the smile drooped. "And music, but..."
He nodded, and they both looked away, as if wishing someone else were talking, instead of them. Firelight flickered in their faces, one long, the other round, and Lucy considered it for a moment, before shifting to a more comfortable sitting position.
Around them, the sounds of the native Australian bush grew as a wind gusted past, leaves rustling, birds deserting their trees in protest; somewhere, a galah shrieked and was joined by others of its flock, then everything fell silent. It was as strange and melancholy a night as it had been a year past, when They had come with their servants, the ka, laying waste to everything around them. Cities smashed into ruins, smoking hulls of towns... the stench had been unbearable for months. The burning, and the rotting waste of spoilt meat left in the sun...
"Hey." The loud suddenness made Lucy yelp and jump.
Beside her, Sandra Jones, who Lucy could have sworn was asleep, swore and sat up. "Jean, don't fucking do that."
From the poorly illuminated opposite side of the fire, Ben chuckled, his deep baritone unmistakable, and oddly jolly in the sombre air.
"Shut up!" Sandra snapped at him. "I was almost asleep."
"Yeah, an' we all know how you get when you don't have your beauty sleep," a lazy voice drawled, emerging from a large pile of blankets which hid a slim man with dark hair and a paranoid fear of blankets being set alight. "Keep it down, San, some of us are tryna sleep here."
Sandra huffed at him, but what the boss said was law. She ran a hand through her short auburn hair and lay back down, with a muttered, "Wake me when I'm on watch."
A few seconds passed, then: "Right. I can see nothing's happened while I've been away." The dark figure that was Jean Lake eased into her place beside two fast asleep comrades and sat, the fire illuminating shaggy brunette hair and thick, dark eyebrows.The steel of her shotgun, so carefully set down beside her, glinted, almost winking, in return. "Is Pete awake? He should have relieved me five minutes ago."
"What?" Ben and Lucy exchanged alarmed glances. Lucy put a hand over her heart, and turned away, eyes closed. Her lips moved, as if she was praying.
"He didn't get to you?" Ben asked slowly. The broad-shouldered man's posture had stiffened, and he now gripped the Browning Hi-Power sheathed at his belt.
"Um... no. He didn't." Jean glanced from Lucy to Ben and back again, and her face smoothed over. "Oh, shit." She said it simultaneously with both of them.
Ben and Jean leapt to their feet, drawing their weapons smoothly to their sides, and began yelling their alerts, their hearts beating fast, and Lucy began tugging at Michael on one side of her and Sandra at the other. This was not a time to worry about the younger woman's bitchiness.
"Awake, alert, up! Enemies in the vicinity! Arm yourselves! Boss!"
"ATTACK!"
It was Ben's call that finally got the twelve sleeping figures moving past a vague grumble and quick, questing fumble for weapons kept in packs beside various heads and sides. Lucy and Jean winced at his bellow.
"ATTACK!"
Sleeping figure number thirteen, their boss, staggered to his feet, and although it was difficult to see in the firelight, the tall man looked as if he might have been squinting. "Yah, quiet now Ben." He took a deep breath in and began to shout, in a voice thankfully free of any of the alcohol he'd imbibed the previous night, "You heard them! Move it! Arm and defend."
In a sudden flurry of chaos, the inexperienced members of the Edmonton 'Heavy' Irregulars lost all traces of sleep from their face and eyes, and moved to grab their liberated pistols, guns, and heavy iron machetes, and fanned out in a circle around the fire, facing outward, towards any threat that might be coming. Eyes anxiously scanned the darkness of the horizon, and while some looked almost excited, most were grim..
"Steven, what is it?" One woman, Clare McGowan, who'd been a butcher's wife in her previous life before the Heavies had found her and liberated her from her ka-encrusted position, asked nervously. It was perhaps because of her nervous disposition and age that she was the only one who was allowed to call the boss by name.
"Good question." Steven Turner moved to face Ben, who had stood his ground rather than moving. Then, as if in realisation, his gaze slid to Jean, who had done the same. "Dog or ka?"
There was a faint murmur to the left, and Jean looked sharply over, hearing the discontent, but took a deep breath in and shifted her stance a little, uncomfortable. "No known threat sir... I just came off shift. Peter Neville should have relieved me five minutes ago, but he's gone. Missing. We thought it best to alert everyone," she indicated Ben with a jerk of her head, and Lucy, who stood on the edge of her sleeping mat, breath baited and shotgun held in front of her, with a lesser inclination.
"Pete? Didn't he wander off a while back?" A rifle-wilding man to the right of Steven wondered, though his tone was faintly querelous, as if he didn't believe it worth the trouble.
"Shut up Thomas," Steven said irritably, crossing his arms, then raising his voice. "Everyone keep an eye out. And you two," He motioned to Ben and Jean to step closer to him, which they obliged, Jean a little hesitantly, with a nervous glance at the fire. Neither of them could see his face, but he sounded grim, and distinctly unhappy. "When did Pete leave, and why didn't you go with him, or alert us sooner?"
Jean opened her mouth to protest before realising it was directed at Ben. She looked over at the larger man, unconsciously switching her shotgun from left to right arm, then back to her boss. "Sir, I don't think it's a good time for recriminations now," she said, more sharply than she'd intended, but Ben waved her off.
"He was relieving himself. I thought he went off to replace Jean on duty when he didn't come back. He could easily have forgotten to tell us." He was taking it well; his voice was placid, and there was no sign of fear of punishment on his well-defined face. Not that punishment was much to fear - just the maddening irritation of having to clear up after everyone and loading and roping everything securely onto the utes in the morning.
"And the radios we -" Steven began to say.
"Hostile!" It was Sandra who shouted, her voice steady even as she dropped to her knee to take aim with her pistol.
A split second after she yelled, another call, this one, "Two kathis side."
A further call to the left confirmed more coming.
"Take the defence!" Steven barked to Ben. "And you, you have a lot of explaining to do." That was directed at Jean. He spun around, confirming the number of ka for himself as more emerged from all sides. "Christ. Hold your fire. Ben, Kelly, Shannon, Rick, Sandra, take point. You know what to do, wait 'til I give the order."
Foul and twisted, the ka halted only a few metres from their poisition around the guttering fire. Illuminated by moon- and starlight and their own strange paleness, the creatures waited, encircling the group entirely.
One quested forth, sniffing the air with its elongated nose, heavy eye-flaps furrowing. Their hearing and sense of smell were superior, and they had the humans - humans not in an approved settled area - firmly in their splay-fingered grasp. It let out a triumphant scream -
"Attack!" Steven yelled.
Five Heavies armed with heavy iron machetes charged out, the man Rick letting out a bloodcurdling scream. The remaining seven readied pistols, revolvers, rifles and shotguns, and bought their weapons to bear. Behind them, Steven grabbed a pack, ignoring its owner's token, protesting, "Hey! Leave it!", and pulled out a flashlight - a large blue Restbuy - and switched it on. Yellow-white artifical light flooded a narrowing path in front of him, showing one of the ka in clear, eerie detail.
The Heavies crashed into the enemy line, mercifully wide, and slashed, hacking. The creatures fought back, burnished steel gauntlets flecked with rust and blood sweeping up and around to deflect the blows, their fellows crowding around to help them.
"Fire at will! Pick 'em off!" Steven was unable to keep a shiver of excitement from his voice.
Clare, the former butcher's wife, glanced at him before setting her shoulders and widening her stance. She detested the violence, the crack of the guns, but she took up arms because it was needed. No one was expendable, and yet everyone was.
It was better to fight than to die whimpering.
Cries reached their ears even before the first shot was fired. Their minds instantly categorised it - one of theirs, one of ours - and the experienced fighters of the group were spurred on by both. The newer members blinked, or flinched, and one even looked away. The air filled with cracks and the 'chik-chik' noise of the group's only assault rifle, and the ringing sound of iron on steel.
The Heavies fighting were doing so with a vigour that wouldn't have been expected for people barely five minutes out of bed; they hacked and slashed, and used fist and leg and knee to gain an advantage, even as their ears began to ring with the loud raucousness of gunfire. Shirt material ripped, successful hits with hard metal gauntlets left them dazed, and hooks grabbed off thin belts ripped at them, swiping through the air, but they ducked and dodged and parried. Ka roared and stumbled and fell, hands grabbing at wounds, as if to pluck the bullets out, and ka blood lay spilled on the grass, mixed with some red, but as always, neither side stopped to curiously glance at the strange copper-brown liquid and bright red human lifeblood that now stained the grass so close to them...
And always, the torchlight illuminating one scene of frenzy and then calmly and gently moving over onto the next.
Then it arrived, and with it, the mist. It shouted a single word in a soft voice, and the ka began to back away warily, calling between them in their own tongue - a language they could never be beautiful enough to match. They backed into the soft glow of the light iot held in one hand, and beyond, standing just behind it. Whether or not they - or anyone else - was pleased about this new development became a moot point.
The firing ceased, halted by Steven, and the fighters retreated. Most eyes were on it, the thing. A new thing, not ka or one of Them. Like Them, this one looked human, but... blurry, and possibly not as much as it appeared to their minds. It was oddly... distracting. The feeling of weariness, of wariness and tenseness, dropped away entirely, replaced with a new sense of wonder and fear.
Tendrils of mist curled gently around them, and a few shuddered away from its touch. Someone murmured, "Smoke bomb?" gently before falling silent.
The ka were not visible, and the figure stood there, unknown, seeing them, but they not quite perceiving it. The mist thickened around them and someone shouted briefly, once, but they were too far in to notice or care...
... some people had said the They and the ka had arrived by magic, others favoured that they were aliens and simply had advanced technology. Technology advanced enough always seemed to be magic, right? Cavemen couldn't comprehend a Walkman.
And whether it was magic or gas, the Edmonton Irregulars found the world drifting away in darkness, and themselves falling weightlessly to the ground, all thought completely suspended.

2007-09-22T22:39:00.000-07:00

Ah, well. It has been a long time since I last posted, hasn't it? Lor', but I've been busy, what with moving and all. I wanted to move back to SA, but no, it had to be Victoria. I hate Victoria with a passion that can hardly be missed. When we moved to New South, I made a promise to myself that I'd never go back - okay, so it's a bit dramatic, and anyway, I broke it a year later when I moved out on my own, but it's hardly my fault if rent is cheaper on the other side of the river. That's my excuse, anyway.

Rant over, and forcibly at that. Er, so. This is just a short post so my blog doesn't disappear from blogger forever, and I have to create a new one. I will get back to my proper posting tomorrow, though there's really not much to say about living here - 'Goanna in my room.' 'There's a frog in my room, on my folder'. 'There was this bloody huge slug on the toilet wall last night'.

Er, I called that last one Leopold. It sort of leapt to mind when I found out it was a leopard slug. Well, you have to admit, it's better than the first slug we had - Vampire. He used to crawl in at night and suck the dog biscuits to death.

This is why you don't let me name pets...

2006-09-03T20:43:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm back online! And it feels good - strangely, I didn't miss it all that much, I just played Arcanum a lot more, but it's still good to be back.

My family decided to have our car converted to gas, but there's been a few hitches; one, a part arrived late, two, a part malfunctioned, and three, there's now an electrical fault. We should have had the car back two weeks ago, but it's still in there, still being fixed. And of course the money on the phone card had to run out. Luckily. they gave us a lend of one of their cars (full of old cigarettes and empty beer bottles) until we get ours back.

Hence, new money on the phone card and me happily on the net again.

Not much else has been happening - I've stopped work on my genealogy, since I've gone as far back in the records as I can and now all I can do is expand outwards. The records don't let me search births past 1905, deaths past 1975 and marriages past 1955, so that's not really worth it.

What I really need is to get into the Victorian Archives (it costs money - and then more money), or to order a copy of Thomas and Eliza's wedding certificate, since I can't find anything else on them. Better yet, I need to get onto Eric and Trisha. I don't know about Trisha, who's one of Nellie's and was raised by Ivy (Nana), but I do know that Eric has a lot of information - even photographs dating back to Thomas and Margaret, which I do need to see - if anything, it'll sort out where our Aboriginal blood comes from (unless Cecil was adopted).

The anti-depressants my doctor put me on are working great - instead of my usual melancholy, I feel great. Not even a minor depression. And I've found it a lot easier to communicate.

I'll leave entry here, or I'll never shut up. Adios!

2006-08-25T18:57:00.000-07:00

2006-08-24T21:26:00.000-07:00

I've had nothing but good luck lately... four excellent reviews on my story, prompting me to wrench myself out of my blasted writers block, being the only person in the house *not* to get a cold and oh yes, I'm swimming in DVDs... the Battlestar Galacticas (and trust me, I'm having a ball watching them), my Doctor Who pre-order for the new volume of the new series came in yesterday and, today, I found and bought my very own copy of one of my favourite episodes of the classic Doctor Who - Genesis of the Daleks!

I'm just having fun all-round...

2006-08-24T21:15:00.000-07:00

Angela prayed as she ran, a series of short, gasped promises to any god that might be listening, a recital of names and vows.

Surely the dogs could not be as fast as they looked, as fast as they’d attacked - no, there was no time. She had to outrun them, this was her life… but from the camp, there should be others, people always helped, sticking together was the best they could do. But the dogs...

She could hear them behind her, huge, padded paws churning the dirt and dead leaves. So close… how could she be so calm? She should be panicking, they’d catch her at any moment, but all she felt was a calm numb in her mind. As if it were someone else running, a remote-controlled doll.

But then, didn’t they say that the brain released chemicals to make you accept your death? Was that it? She fought a sudden, rising panic. Guess not.

Heavy panting, a snapping of jaws. Keep going.

All she could do.

“Get down!”

Angela obeyed automatically, ducking her head and slamming her body to the ground, hard, before she even registered the voice, or the cracks that split the air above her.

Behind her, one of the dogs – maybe both of them? Was she that lucky? – yelped, genuine shrieks of pain. More shots rang out, followed by more yelps and the sound of a heavy body hitting dirt. Bullets flew past her, embedding themselves in the ground around her, and Angela curled up in a tense ball, hands held tightly over her ears, her breaths coming deep and ragged.

A pain seared through her left arm and she cried out, grinding her teeth as she stifled it. A white hotness flowed down her arm, and she whimpered, clucthing at it and rolling over despite the gunfire above her, lips curled back in a grimace.

“Enough! They’re dead.” The voice came from a distance, androgynous, commanding. Familiar, but from the past. “Get her up if she can’t stand.”

Oh gods, the past… the camp… all gone… all converted.

Fading green gum leaves and small brown twigs lifted from her vision and she blinked, a tightness around her arms. Someone swore, a long way away.

“She’s been shot.” She could barely understand the words. Were they human, or was it another trap? Was she going to sent to the factory, meat and mind for the ka to work and beat and mold? For their masters…

One of the dogs lay in her field of vision now, a monstrous brown mongrel half as big as she was, blood emptying from its lifeless body onto the ground. She stared, her vision swaying, seeing something from a long time past.

"Probably in shock. Hit her with your gun, we can’t deal with this now.”

What? Angela flailed, kicking out with her legs and swinging her arms, but the pain was too much. Her arm was on fire, and someone was screaming horribly, in pain, and limp as a rag doll in the arms of her attacker, standing behind her and struggling to keep her upright. But of course, the threat always came from behind. She should have taken that course, should have prepared more, not been caught unaware. She’d been so proud of how well she’d adapted, survived, protected, and now… Adam would come. Adam was a wreck who died in pain… oh gods...

Something crashed into her head, and merciful blackness engulfed her.

2006-08-23T18:28:00.000-07:00

Battlestar Galactica was excellent - from what my memory tells me, far better than last season. It felt kind of a cheat when they switched to 'One Year Later,' but it's definitely clear why that's necessary. Can't wait for Season Three now...

More reviews! I'm thrilled - people want to read my work, it's amazing! I'll have to get to work on a new chapter. Thankfully, it's already been outlined - although whether or not it actually ends up sticking to the outline is another matter entirely. I seem to be getting better at sticking to them, but I think most of that is having the ideas stuck in my head, going round and round, while I figure them out and analyse how well they'd work, given my current plans for the story.

Speaking of which, I need a definite plot. I have a rough idea, but that's all - I'm used to my plots crystallising while I write, but it's time I started planning. It's not going to end happily, and the threat will remain unconquered, but 'things' will be established. Things will most definitely be established.

Something to think about...

2006-08-22T18:03:00.000-07:00

I think I've finally found my niche - as a writer of strange, post-apocalyptic supernatural/horror/fantasy stories... another review for Hunt came in! Fastest and best reviews I've ever had!

I churned out another chapter last night, in which my main character is rescued by a deus ex machina - er, survivors from her camp - gets shot in the arm and goes into shock pretty badly. Getting clubbed over the head and dragged off somewhere (she thinks 'the meat factory') isn't really that much of a loss to her. And this carries on to the next chapter... in which she's still in shock and also in pain from the bullet wound, and has to deal with her current situation, the death of her partner, and her highly unimpressed rescuers, as well as trying to pull herself together and act normal. So, psychology and character conflict.

Hmm. I'm beginning to wonder if I should change the characters' names in case my cousin and her boyfriend ever get hold of a copy. I'd honestly forgotten about them when I named the characters - easy to do, since they live in Perth and I live in southern New South Wales.

In other news, I've managed to memorise most (can't remember two pronounciations) of the Cyrillic alphabet. I'm trying to learn Russian, but so I can read and write it. Learning to speak it is more difficult, since there are no language classes around here and you need to hear a native speaker to know how to speak properly. Phrasebooks don't do it all, after all.

Feeling very pleased with myself today. Though I do have a bit of work to get done - memorising pronounciations I keep missing, writing another chapter, watching some more Battlestar Galactica. Yes, I know, none of that's work, it's 'free-time.' But since I'm going to be interrupted by actual work, I may as well enjoy the times in between as mental work...

2006-08-21T17:48:00.000-07:00

Things are going very, very well for me today... lazily, but very good.

Yesterday I recieved my pre-ordered copy of Season 2 of Battlestar Galactica in the mail, and watched the first two disks - well, okay, so the last episode of the first disk, which is where we're up to on TV, and the whole of the second disk - and it is fantastic! It's a shame the Caprica storyline ended, since that was my favourite, but Helo and Sharon are still around, so I can't really complain too much. I want to know where their relationship ends up, whether Sharon has any ulterior motives and whether or not she rejoins the Cylons, and I definitely want to know what happened to the baby... I have a nasty suspicion it's going to be a miscarriage.

Also, I've recieved a review for my story (ambiguously titled 'Hunt') on fictionpress, posted by a writer whose work I admire. So yay me! I'm doing something right!

... this not mentioning names thing is getting difficult.

2006-08-18T00:30:00.000-07:00

Taking a day out of my not particularly busy life to write... I've had writer's block for a while now, and so far I haven't managed to write anuthing decent, just half-pages of singularly uninspiring... stuff.

What I am attempting to write is a nice little prologue which introduces the supernatural as part of 'everyday' life that some people know about, some people suspect, but which most people either don't have a clue about or just ignore, but which is a very serious business. Which it should be, since my general outline involves the character in the prologue to be killed.

So far I've tried: on a train, on his way to the station after work and having a 'meeting' but none of them really stuck. I want somethingnormal, and they pop up and start 'chatting' with the character about the Plot Thing, in this case an ancient book which contains knowledge of some sort. Haven't figured out what. But as Plot Things go, a book's pretty darn good. It can be carted anywhere, it can fit into your pocket if it's small enough, you can mail it, you can shove it in a library shelf and no one'd know the difference... you can also change its binding so the people looking for its secrets won't be able to find it *that* easily...

Wait, I've found what it is... it contains ancient knowledge of Light or Dark (yes, I'm doing a good versus evil thing here, but they're both grey and only think that they're good and the enemy's evil), and it has two catches: one, it can't be used against the people it was written for and two, no one knows if it's about the Light or the Dark.

Yes, yes, I know, there's a loophole there - but as the story's mythology goes, if the book is Light, the Dark can't read it. If the book is Dark, the Light can't read it. Of course, reality always sees mythology open to doubt...

And why a book of ancient knowledge? Well, knowledge is power in the hands of those who don't have to struggle, and life in the hands of those who do...

2006-08-16T17:48:00.000-07:00

I watched Nochnoi Dozor again last night, and on the second viewing, it was a hell of a lot easier to get - I don't know whether it was because I can actually recognise the characters I couldn't before, or just because it's the second time watching. Oh well.

In other news, it's cold, wet and miserable where I am, and of the two others who live here, one's getting over a cold and the other has one. I was hoping for a cold-free year, too...

2006-08-15T20:28:00.000-07:00

Nochnoi Dozor

Warning: Some spoilers
Having watched this film for the first (but not the last) time, there were a few things that deserved to be put in a review – and all of it bears comment.

The protagonist of Nochnoi Dozor, Anton Gorodetsky, is a young man who wishes to get back his former girlfriend - and, once told of it by the witch he ‘hired’, to destroy her unborn child by another man. Halfway through this, the ‘session’ is busted by strangers, who are initially invisible, but which become so – these are people Anton should not be able to see at all, and he is promptly informed that he is an ‘Other’, and that he has a choice to make. Anton decides to join them, the Night Watch, and we cut to twelve years later, where the story begins…

As a whole, Nochnoi Dozor is an excellently made film, but its one true flaw is that it seems… racy, disjointed, in the first part. Although it’s easy to understand what is happening (the cut between 1992, when Anton is discovered to be an Other, top 2004, on the job style, is a common technique) it’s perhaps too quick and immersive for the viewer to be entirely at ease with.

This feeling is eased through the rest of the film, as everything becomes familiar, though the pace continues, and the focus is still very clearly on Anton.

The style used might make it difficult to sympathise and empathise with the characters and their predicaments, but even if the whole movie doesn’t draw you in, there are scenes with such a tense, terse atmosphere, and the odd well-spoken line of subtle and light humour, that a response is entirely unconscious.

As for the plot, it takes a little while to kick in, and while some elements may be predictable, it is a well-realised plot. The underlying plot – good versus evil – is prominantly shown in two particular scenes, is ever-present, though in a couple of scenes it is strangely remniscient of modern police shows. Almost.

The secondary characters have their own distinct personalities and their motivations are easy to sympathise with – both Light and Dark Others. It makes for a refreshing, interesting approach markedly different from the usual black-and-white viewpoints. The irony of the Light as the Night Watch and the Dark taking the Day Watch is also nicely out of the norm.

Geser and Zavulon, as the leaders of Light and Dark respectively, are worth their own mention in regards to characterisation. Zavulon is patient and can manipulate events to his own design, and seems to have a thing about computer games. Geser, on the other hand, is a capable leader, though his ministrations to Anton give the impression that he’s either a micro-manager or that not many Others serve in the Night Watch. He is seen in the film more often and his personality is much more distinct, yet not much at all is known about hiim. Zavulon, on the other hand, has to be puzzled out by words and action taken by and against him. These two characters are the most black-and-white the film gets, yet they are left oddly ambiguous.

Nochnoi Dozor, as a whole, gives the impression of ‘like it or don’t’; it entraps you in this grim story of a strange reality from the first, with almost no impression of total normality to cling to, apart from some brief glimpses of another’s life. To some members of a Western audience accustomed to the ‘please everyone’ philosophy of Hollywood movies, it won’t be their cup of tea, but a great deal of people like Nochnoi Dozor despite its flaws – or because of them – and find it enjoyable and well worth watching. I count myself among them, and look forward to the next two films in the trilogy.

However, there are some matters left unresolved and even issues that can be theorised and philosophised about until Day Watch and Dusk Watch are released, and in the meantime, Nochnoi Dozor – no matter what your opinion – is here to be enjoyed. I hope you do so.

Personal Thoughts
Initially, I had some difficulty getting a hold of the movie for one very simple reason – I’m partially face-blind, and it took me a while to be able to get a fix on what Anton looked like. This is one of the rasons I don’t like movies much – beyond the Hollywood ‘cater for all’, I often have trouble figuring out exactly who the heck is on the screen!

Nochnoi Dozor is right up my alley, though, and it’s actually giving me some bright, related ideas for my NaNovel – which I’m getting rid of as fast as they come. The struggle between good and evil, with both sides as your sort of average guy (sort of… I’m thinking of the scene where the Day Watch shows up after Anton kills a Dark Other, and their reaction. It reminds me so much of a bunch of peple I used to know it’s not funny - much).

The twist at the end, where Anton is told very firmly – by his own son – that he is worse than the Dark, has currently captured my imagination. We see Anton doing these things anyone would in the same circumstances, we know and understand his reasons – yet the actions are dark – it’s one of those philosophical and perceptual things, when your actions are dark and no one knows your motivation, they see you as dark. Even if you explain why, no matter how good your reasons are, they still see you as dark. So, does this continued perception mean that you are dark, that there may be something *else* besides your good motivation?

Another thing I noticed is that Tiger Cub and Bear got very little screen time and next to no characterisation – yes, they’re in love, and yes, he understandably hates being treated like an exhibit in the circus, but we don’t actually know anything else. For the people who were there when Anton became an Other, and did some babysitting later on, it seems very strange that they should be blanked like that. I mean, it’s hardly fair, is it? Everyone else got such fine characterisation…

Oh yes, another thing; I titled this film and called it ‘Nochnoi Dozor’ instead of the English ‘Night Watch’ because the film is Russian – maybe it’s just me, but it seems somehow sacriligeous to listen to a foreign film in English and call it by its English name. You have to respect where things come from. Dubbing it in English, you lose some of what the original spoken lines have – the tone, the focus… seems disrespectful to do that, and to call it something else.

2006-08-13T18:57:00.001-07:00

"Where is it?" Angela hissed, but there was no answer in the dim-lighted space beside her. Her partner had split, moving as silently as only he could.

She sighed and returned her gaze to the sights of the rifle in front of her, wiggling down closer to the ground as she did so. It would lessen the chances of her being spotted, which was the last thing she wanted. Not just for herself, but for the encampment. They were all that was left now.

Around her, the trees rustled as a breeze swept through them, their leaves dropping off and falling on the lone sentry’s back. Angela grunted as she pulled one out of her hair, crushing it in her fist. Autumn had come early this year.

"Hey," he was back, slipping into place beside her, Browning in hand. "Any ka come when I was away?"

"Hah," Angela scoffed. "There’s not that many here."

"As if we’d want there to be." Adam said, unknowingly echoing her sentiment. He slipped another clip into the hand-grip of his pistol, then made a small noise at the back of his throat. "Oh yeah, here’s the torch."

She squinted at him, then grabbed the long, rectangular shape with a murmured, "thanks".

Clicking it on, she shone the light on her watch, noting the time, then handed it back. 5:53, not long ‘til Evy and Marks replaced them. Thank god. It was so mind-numbingly boring doing sentry duty at such hours. Not that she’d prefer to be on duty in an occupied area, of course. Angela Wells was not a suicidal woman, and she had no intention of making herself a target.

Correction: any more of a target than she already was. Hiding behind thick bushes still counted…

Crack.

Her head snapped around as soon as she heard it, blonde hair bouncing against her face. Where was it? She scanned the area, alert for any sign of an intruder, while Adam cocked his pistol, preparing for an attack.

It had come from the left, but she couldn’t see anyone yet. And the area was supposed to be uninhabited… wait, a figure…

"Got it?" Adam, his voice a quiet murmur in her ear.

"To the left," she replied briefly, keeping her own voice down, lower than her pounding heartbeat.

More cracks, louder than the first. Adam had been the one to suggest strewing twigs around the clearing…

Her finger tightened on the trigger and she licked her lips as the figure appeared.

Her mind registered human, then Adam abruptly stood, Browning aimed directy at the figure.
"Get on the ground," he ordered, his voice clear and imposing.

Angela rose up beside him, rifle aimed but not cocked. Like a TV henchman during a bank robbery, she motioned to the ground with the barrel of her rifle.

The figure, she could see now it was a woman, didn’t move. She exchanged glances with Adam. Who the hell argued with two guns pointed at them? She shifted her rifle and opened her mouth to speak, but the woman beat her to it.

"We took your camp thirty-five minutes ago," the figure said, calmly addressing them. Her voice was curiously lifeless. "Your people have been captured and are being held in accord with Dari law. I ask that you surrender to us."

As if to back her up, one of the massive hunting dogs the Dari used to sniff out humans slunk up and sat next to her, watching them alertly.

"Shit," Adam whispered. "She’s been processed. She’s ka."

"I am Dia," the woman said, as if clarifying.

Angela swallowed, eyes wide. A shiver rippled down her spine. "How…"

A deep breath from beside her, and then he raised his pistol, firing repeatedly. She stumbled away from him, dropping her rifle, a low cry escaping her throat and hands clapping over her ears at the sheer volume. Dogs, eerily silent, rushed at Adam from beyond the trees, and she moved back, ready to run but unable to.

She screamed as they overcame him, four of them, tearing into him with savage teeth, her scream mixing with his as he fell. He flailed at them, but a dog garbbed hold of his arm, sinking its fangs in and tearing until the tender flesh ripped off the bone. His scream heightened, and Angela finally turned and fled.

The dogs gave chase.

2006-08-12T19:40:00.000-07:00

I have begun to suspect that I'm descended from clones...

I've done some more work on my ancestory, and I've had to stop short at Thomas Hayes and his wife Eliza Barker, as both seem to have either emigrated or moved from another state (Victorian records cost money just to search)... which I'm more than a little thankful for. So many names repeat! I'm going to have a fit if I come across any more Cecils or Thomas'!

So far, my family as it stands is this:

Thomas Hayes m. Eliza Barker
Their children: Jane F. (1856), Thoms Newton (1859), Cecil E. (1860) and Eveline C. (1862). All born in Chippendale.

Thomas Newton Hayes m. Margaret Devine
Their children: Cecil Newton (1895), Gorden W. (1897), Frederick A. (1900) and Dorothy E. (1903), all in Young.

Cecil Newton m. Alice May Eagles
Their children: Thomas Henry Newton (1919) and Frederick Cecil Devine (1920). Both born in Albury.

That last one is uncertain - birth records only go to 1905 in the archives, and I only know these ones from army records and my grandmother's memory. If anyone is related to any of these people, please let me know.