First words!

Tune in to the Six Sentences blog tomorrow and you should see my very first inclusion in their daily micro-fiction stream. It was my first submission to the site, and I am pumped to try crafting more.

This will mark my first purely-creative publication since a tortuously post-modern poem of mine was published while I was at university. (Yes, it used symbolic http-code. Yes, once I learned http-code I realized how dumb that was.)

I am so excited! A big thanks to Rob for his extremely enthusiastic response. For anyone thinking of trying this out for themselves, DO IT! It's a fun challenge, and can take your brain to some seriously weird places.

And please, feel free to tell me what you think!


Update: My entry has been nominated for 6S of the Month for February, 2010. If you want to vote (oh, do!), go here (and, quite ingeniously, follow the link that says 'cast your vote HERE') before March 7.


Updated update: I didn't win, but I did get a solid third of the vote. Which is awesome! Sadly, I haven't had chance to submit much to the blog since then, but I have been included in the next book, 6S Volume 3. :D 

Pop-psych

So, ladies, what Barbie are you?


I am, apparently The Original Teenage Fashion Model Barbie, a "timeless original" who adores design and haute couture, and while having a "delightfully flirty, sultry streak", at heart is a traditional romantic.


I'll take that.

I'll also take her swimsuit, if I can find it in my size.

Curling rocks!

My current obsession with the Winter Olympics has turned up some big surprises! It turns out curling can be absolutely thrilling, white-knuckle stuff, the Australian skating uniform designers apparently hold a big grudge against the athletes, and there is such a thing as jingle-induced insanity. (Any Canadians watching the CTV coverage can attest to this.)
We Aussies never get much coverage of this stuff, so I hereby consider it my duty to lounge about* and soak up as much of it as I can, while eating peanut butter from the jar and watching it snow outside. Reckon that'll help get me points for citizenship?


(*After writing some of my novel in the morning, naturally. Thank goodness for the time difference between TO and VCR that lets me be at least a little productive.)

This snowy lull

In snowboarding, I believe they call this patch the glide. Not much is going on. The track looks smooth and gentle, rolling along the hillside. But this apparently easy leveling-off is actually when it's hardest to stay on your feet.

This is where I live now, and, my lawyer tells me, where I'll likely stay for many months yet. The glide. 

Life is so much easier to handle when you're carrying momentum. Screaming down a mountain, trees and bumps coming at you faster than you can handle, everything flows on instinct. Fear forces you to take risks that either leave you whooping in exaltation or dumped on your arse trying to work out what not to do next time. Either way, one thing is for sure: you're alive.

This glide, though, steals that momentum. It robs you of balance and renders even the smallest of inclines a mighty challenge. You start to lose faith in your instincts, begin overcompensating with thought, and more often than not come grinding to a halt in the middle of nowhere, staring at the scenery and wondering where the heck to go.

My lawyer informed me yesterday that my residency likely won't come until July/August, one year after this debacle began. I had been hoping for a miraculous early arrival, even carrying my phone with me around the house in case the call came.

The phone's not on me any more. I'm not working on my novel, not making crafty bows, not running errands or going for jogs in the snow. I am simply drinking tea. 

The glide is where I'm at. And the scariest thing is, I don't know if I'll ever get that momentum back. 

Crafty bizniss

It seems my housewifery knows no bounds. As evidence, I present this week: I baked a vegetarian lasagna while gadding about in my frilly apron, mended my own sweater (purchased at the dangerously good Preloved annual sale), and today completed yet another recycled-magazine-craft project from How About Orange.
What next? Valium and fluffy heels? 

A coaster and two gift bows. Woot! Woot!