Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

friday. all day. it has a ring to it.



I went to my doctor's office late yesterday afternoon to pick up my prescription slips, and as I was walking up Capitol Hill along Seneca I looked over and noticed the empty plaza and the stone architecture in Freeway Park, and how the light filtered through the trees, and it reminded me of things I couldn't put my finger on, but that didn't matter. It was nippy and windy, and I listened to songs on my iPod. I walked all the way to the doctor's, and then to the pharmacy, and then home--fairly long stretches. Actual exercise. And I kept noticing the buildings and other stuff and having thoughts like:

- I should walk down this street, because I never do.
- Those buildings were obviously built in the sixties but they're pretty cool looking.
- Cat! Sitting in the window! Big fluffy-ruffed cat!
- PEEPS! Peeps are on sale again! GIVE ME LITTLE WHITE CHICKIE PEEPS NOW!

And noticing the genteel old ladies in their cloth coats coming out of the grand hotel in a whiff of perfume, and how the wind rattled the tree leaves suddenly above me, and then a block later, made the stiff fronds of a palm clatter together. Also, the sky was blue and the clouds were fluffy.

I think the Prozac elevates my mood to just about what a normal person must feel on an average day.

I've also gotten a bunch of things done: I paid some bills and did other financial stuff, did laundry, put on make-up the last few days, took all my meds on time in a regular way for the past week, got things done at work, etc etc. Wild.


Meanwhile, fannishly. I wonder how odd it is, my ability to get wildly excited over a story that nails canon--when the character voices and behaviors seem dead-on--and yet at the same time harbor private views of the characters that I know are wildly OOC. With the harem pants and the weeping and so on.

When I write, I *try* to avoid the self-indulgence of coloring outside the lines of character. And I should say that I'm talking about character skewing here as something entirely different from cracktastic plot elements--it's one thing to turn Rodney into a rabbit; it's another thing to make him a weepy emo rabbit with suicidal tendencies. I don't know how well I do though at staying in character. I think being fannish comes with built-in blind spots. When I go back to look at old SG-1 stories of mine, I sometimes think: why the *hell* did I write that? Come to think of it, a lot of the blind spots probably never go away.

Semi-relatedly...SGA fandom makes me so happy that sometimes I feel a momentary twinge of anxiety about just the *possibility* that it could someday stop being a happy place for me. But right now it's all good. These things in particular made me happy today:Now I'm leaving the office and I think I'm going to go sit in a café for a while, and do very little of any importance. It sounds like a plan.
Tags: hard stuff
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