my heart is a glorious machine;

Rhapsody on a Winter Night is still going. I've got three of the verses Remus!proseified, I think. I wrote a good four paragraphs last night when I was supposed to be sleeping, which means that it is extremely difficult to read. Also, I have one of those stupid notebooks where the pages are perforated muchly, so they fall out whenever I so much as use them. I didn't buy it, really; I'm not that masochistic. 

Old fics going up at _plentyofpaper. Because I'm the obsessive type. And I'm plugging them. Er.

I made dinner today, and managed not to kill, maim, burn, or destroy anything.

Also, I don't know why I am writing this entry, as it is rather dull, but I had this mad urge to write entry. Perhaps I should not always follow urges. In fact, I should be making that Dylan fic behave right now, because I can physically sense ressie_noldo staring at me pointedly from across the ocean, which is creepy in so many ways. Gah. And to the random passer-by, that sounds as if I am actually writing fanfiction about Bob Dylan, which is even creepier than staring-across-continents. I hate real!people fic. It never, ever makes sense. Also, eighty percent of it seems to be the fantasy-fulfilment sort; I'm always seeing Daniel Radcliffe/OC (read: Radcliffe/author) or Orlando Bloom/same, and do they have any bloody idea how magnificently stupid the stories read? Of course, the people are always horribly OOC, because there's no way these little fanbrats know anything about said person's personal life and personality outside the stage, unless they've been around long enough to write nicely detailed memoirs. Even then, it's still CREEPY.

 If anyone ever wrote fic about me, I would be deeply disturbed. At least I am not an attractive male actor, as it would be beyond disturbing to ever find a story in which I am in love with some schmaltzy imbecile whom I have never met. I also hate the fact that people publish their Radcliffe/OC and Bloom/OC fics on Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings fanfiction archives. Radcliffe/OC is not Harry Potter fanfiction. AT ALL. Just...no. It has nothing to do with Harry Potter, other than that the movies will be mentioned fannishly before Danny and Susie go to some posh restaurant in a London created by some girl in Idaho who knows nothing about England or English people other than what she gathers from Harry Potter. That's the other thing about real!people fics: they're always so dull, as they mainly consist of wish-fulfilment rubbish in which Author Under Pseudonym (or not, because these ickle fangirls are not known for subtlety) goes on expensive dates with Actor Of Choice and finds out how Humble and Personable said Actor is. Said fics are usually written by the more pink-clad, lipgloss-endowed, and giggly fangirls, so (going from summaries, because the only one I actually read some of was an Orlando/OC that I was considering sporking) they don't generally shag like rabbits. Which is good, because there is no way I want to scar my innocent mind even more. *wince*

Dad just called us over to the sliding glass door to see a pair of ducks sitting in the yard, and Roscoe the cat sitting twenty-five feet away, staring at them and apparently wondering if he should attack them before they attack him. (He won't. He's incapable of attacking anything, even mice. The closest we've ever seen him get was to heroically bat a mouse across the floor, after loads ran past his nose for days. I'd be more worried about the ducks attacking him, if they're anything like swans. A black swan tried to eat me when I was little.) 

Also, The Wise and the Lovely is going to be finished, I really do promise. It's just that a) I haven't got to the computer for writing yet, except when I was writing Dylan-loving!Siriusfic (except without the Dylan, because it hasn't got there yet), and I wasn't even supposed to be awake or on the computer, so I didn't want to go upstairs and get Half-Blood Prince, and b) lady_moriel is in Washington, D.C. Waaah.