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I thought I'd try something here, because my diary keeps formatting stuff funny. And my parents should be getting here tomorrow. Hopefully they don't run into snow on their way through the mountains.
Also, is it bad to get annoyed with your family if they call you three times a day on average and you've been at college for three years?
Because I feel like I should be grateful, and I would be except that I get snippy, and that doesn't really help anybody.
In terms of fannish activity, I'm still trying to muster up enough courage to post to mailing lists. It makes no sense to be this worried about posting when nobody knows who I am, nor are they likely to find out. Mostly because they won't care to. I think it might be, at this point, more reluctance because I have nothing to say. Also, my e-mail account tends to fill up rapidly, and I'm running out of time to check it. If posts aren't coming to my inbox, I'm less likely to read the non-fic related posts. I hate this, because the discussion is interesting, but I just can't keep up with who said what and where the debate has gone. Also, I tend to react to things long after everyone has beaten the horse to death, skinned it, eaten the meat, boiled the hooves for glue (or whatever), and used the bones to build a decorate motif for over the door. Move over whalebone fence from Island of the Blue Dolphins.
In other news, I feel like the new Anita Blake book will take the jump from softcore porn into a straight, no-holds-barred sex-fest.
There are reasons why I'm not pre-ordering this book. Or holding my breath waiting.
And now I think I'm going to try and get some sleep.
Also, is it bad to get annoyed with your family if they call you three times a day on average and you've been at college for three years?
Because I feel like I should be grateful, and I would be except that I get snippy, and that doesn't really help anybody.
In terms of fannish activity, I'm still trying to muster up enough courage to post to mailing lists. It makes no sense to be this worried about posting when nobody knows who I am, nor are they likely to find out. Mostly because they won't care to. I think it might be, at this point, more reluctance because I have nothing to say. Also, my e-mail account tends to fill up rapidly, and I'm running out of time to check it. If posts aren't coming to my inbox, I'm less likely to read the non-fic related posts. I hate this, because the discussion is interesting, but I just can't keep up with who said what and where the debate has gone. Also, I tend to react to things long after everyone has beaten the horse to death, skinned it, eaten the meat, boiled the hooves for glue (or whatever), and used the bones to build a decorate motif for over the door. Move over whalebone fence from Island of the Blue Dolphins.
In other news, I feel like the new Anita Blake book will take the jump from softcore porn into a straight, no-holds-barred sex-fest.
There are reasons why I'm not pre-ordering this book. Or holding my breath waiting.
And now I think I'm going to try and get some sleep.