bluecastle: (Default)
I do not know why, but the writing prompts over on [livejournal.com profile] staringout always end up making me think of Jack and Ianto. Case in point:

Today's Prompts:

+ "Love gets me into more trouble than hate ever could."

Immediately I start thinking of Ianto writing a diary entry.

Also in writing news I may have figured out -- as I was drifting off to sleep last night -- a way to frame the writing that I need to do in order to figure out some stuff about an idea I have for some original fiction. I don't have a plot yet, but I may have found a way to figure out how to find one. I wish I could be one of those people who can just start writing and tell a story. Me, I gotta write around the story for awhile...

It's like how I always gotta start everything with a collage, and let the pieces tell me the larger story. My brain must be a really interesting place!!

It's rainy and horrible here today. But no matter how icky I think that is, it's probably not nearly as icky as it is to the students who have been camped out in their pup tents for two days now outside the killer stadium so they can be first in line for the student seats.

I did not pack a lunch, so I will have to venture out to procure food. I also have a Michaels coupon burning a hole in my pocket. And a heat gun I need to get for class next week. Hmmm.....

Hitting the snooze alarm 75 times is somewhat counterproductive.

My cat still hates the bathmat. They have nightly wrestling matches. I do not understand this.

If I was a motivated person, I would spend the weekend carting my thousands of books out into the garage so that I can paint the room they are in.

Anyway... I suppose I should get back to work. Have emails to send.

Happy Friday!!




bluecastle: (Default)
Woke up in the early morning light after a dream where I was swept away by a very strong wind with a lot of autumn leaves in it...

Hugged my cat, and went back to sleep and when I woke up an hour or so later, this was in my head: 

"Harold Barnes grew up believing in things he could see, hear, taste and touch. And then one day Harold's house blew away, and he had to learn to believe in things he couldn't see. For Harold Barnes had just gotten himself a guardian angel."

I don't know what, if anything it means... but I do tend to dream first sentences to things.

I'm still trying to figure out what to do with the one that goes:

"A boy named Lovely was born, just as the house on the Shiloh Road was being completed."

I suspect there's a lot more to that story if I could only find my way into it...

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