stupid network not working.

so drive 105 has a contest right now where you can win a private picnic with an acoustic performance by rhett miller. which, i must admit is pretty cool. but whenever they mention it on the radio i start picturing two people, just two people on a blanket with a picnic basket and rhett miller. and i have to laugh. someone back me up here and tell me that this is a silly silly mental image.

zennerthanyou and i went up to the cities tonight so that i could drop in and wish my brother a happy 11th birthday. he can't possibly be that old. he just can't. i won't allow it. but i gave him some diana wynne jones and was assured by both he and my sister (who's nine) that giving them books on every occasion is not a bad thing at all. and that... is such a good change. after we left the boy and i went and used up a bunch of the movie theater gift certificates i've had lying around forever. saw 'finding nemo' which was quite good. scarier and more suspenseful than i would have expected, but very very good.

the connection here is being really pissy tonight. not sure whether it will actually let me post this or not. haven't been able to get at live journal most of the day. will catch up tomorrow hopefully. all of you i got to see this weekend, i miss you already. i miss there being people around on a regular basis that i don't have to work at being comfortable with. not that everyone here is like that, but. i know many of you understand. now to read a little and get to sleep so that i can wake up and go get my license back tomorrow. finally.

searching

xjournal just ate my entry. for all it's brilliance, this is why paper is ever preferable to a screen. i poured out my fear of this night, of the morning that is dawning. in words i'm not sure i can capture again. and now they're gone. and part of me, superstitious and caught in a book, is frightened by it. so that i almost want to cry. but i don't cry.

Once I was almost persuaded that legends are not true. But I know better now. The names and places may be different, but there were princes and battles, there was jealousy and murder and terrible love, and there were magicians. And they're still here. Perhaps it's because our land is so ancient. Ghosts feel at home; they find it easy to slip into our lives like long lost relations.

from Jenny Nimmo's The Chestnut Soldier

here i am, still awake and only now beginning to feel that i could sleep. it's been months since i've stayed up reading simply because the story wouldn't let me rest. though tonight i suspect it's more than that. there is too much to the world sometimes.

i hung up my dream catcher again tonight. feeling that i'd need it. needing to feel safe. i know my mind has been over-full as of late. my thoughts have been preoccupied. but my dreams have been so strange since i've moved here. i can't say if it was due to not having unpacked my dream catcher, sleeping without it's protection. perhaps i simply need to create protection of my own.

if i were a braver girl, i would take my guitar down the stairs to try and write. as it stands, i will attempt to fall asleep. i've reached a point in the story where i'm less afraid.


the connection that kept sputtering earlier, seems to have entirely died. i will have to post this later with time amended. *sigh*