my heart is a glorious machine;

Status of the house: AHHH RUN RUN PACK WASH CLEAN PACK MORE oh help. Status of my bedroom: oh help. There's a suitcase in the middle of the floor, mostly packed, but draped over with things. My bed is a nest of library books and blankets and the long chequered jacket I shed after church this morning. Oh, and a cat. Status of my brain: ...

Ah, yes: we leave on Tuesday evening, and I am still holding out a vague and trembling hope that the computer speakers I ordered from Amazon will arrive by then, but seeing as they haven't shipped yet... *sigh* Not pleased: they were in stock and still haven't shipped. Which is absurd. In better things-that-came-for-me-in-the-post news, new power cord came the other day to replace the one that went bad on me after a month, internet tells me that this is a common Dell problem. (Before you rag on Dell, I've really enjoyed this computer other than that, and some other things that really weren't its fault.) It's been powering but not charging the battery, which has made things very irritating. At first I thought this one didn't work either, but I reckon it had to get acquainted with Yvaine first, because after a day or so of not-working, it suddenly... has been. I've tested it multiple times: and oh I am so happy. Going on holiday with a laptop that must be plugged in at all times would have been beyond frustrating.

Abandoned Battlestar Galactica for two days to re-read War for the Oaks, and oh my oh my, I had almost forgotten how much I adore that book. It makes me happy and hits so many of my storytelling buttons so very well. If my first novel turns out anywhere near as marvellous, I will be well satisfied. (Okay, no I won't: I'm a writer, and we are notoriously never satisfied with our own work.) Now sucked back into space, and ack so much tensionnnnn. ADMIRAL CAIN I LOATHE YOU SO MUCH. Adama, you continue to get awesomer.

I saw some photographs of the house we'll be staying in in Cape Breton, and it looks exactly like something out of L.M. Montgomery. ♥! It's on several acres of property, and there's a lake near the house with a dock for swimming, and great masses of trees... My one regret is that I couldn't afford a nicer camera before this holiday. Alas.

(full disclosure: I may have to slit the tires on everybody's cars so that nobody can drive me to the airport on Monday night.) 

Kyra and I have been adventuring. Sometimes adventuring takes the form of sitting at the kitchen table (or, currently, me on the sofa several feet away and her at the table, because I'm too lazy to plug the computer in closer) reading the internet and showing each other things, and me reading the entire archive of Wondermark in two or three days (WHICH IS ALL KYRA'S FAULT), and lying about and talking about our stories and Story in general. Sometimes adventuring takes the form of Lots of Shopping, for verily we are very bad at being geeks sometimes. (But -- almost-matching LOVE IS THE MOVEMENT t-shirts! and I bought a lovely dress and several very unique pairs of shoes and odd necklaces at the thrift store and I haven't paid more than thirteen dollars for any one item and those were shoes that likely retail for $75! ...Uh, and the other thirteen dollar item was a USB mouse because my touchpad just went mad, augh.) Sometimes it takes the form of watching things, like Chuck and Iron Man and, um, Twilight, with Kyra's friend Callie, in which we laughed really really a lot and MSTed the entire thing and quoted cleolinda and Growing Up Cullen a lot...

And yesterday we drove up to Flattop to look at the mountains and take many many pictures and it was gorgeous and I am still fascinated by the way clouds cast shadows on the mountains. On the way back down the mountain, we stopped to spend forty-five minutes climbing around a lot of strange rubbish people had left on the side of the road, taking many many many pictures, because it was really lovely and fascinating -- a bathtub full of grass, ripped-up sofas, rusted dishwashers with cogs and gears and pipes spilling out of them like entrails...

And now we're off for another adventure!

Despite being barraged by sun and humidity, aching all over, somehow managing to catch a cold in eighty-degree weather, having to choose between four different bands in one time-slot, and finding my face has been sunburned dreadfully, I have had a marvellous weekend. Marvellous. To begin with, at least one festival a year tends to be my father's and my special togetherness, that thing that just we share, and as people in general go, I can be alone with him better than I can be with most people. (It helps that we kind of know each other really well, but also we're similar kinds of introverts and know when to let each other be, generally speaking. And he's one of the few people I know -- especially offline -- who listens to music in the same way I do; drinking it in, living inside of it.) And, as seems to be tradition these days, I discovered some really fantastic bands -- Scythian, who I mentioned before I left, are brilliant, especially late at night on a dance floor. Especially as the band is made up of four extremely, um, attractive young men who were wearing waistcoats the first night. And they're amazing instrumentalists. That violin almost broke my heart... except when it was going too fast to think, and I was dancing so hard I was losing my kerchief. At one point near the end of the set, all of the boys except the drummer leapt off the stage and played while dancing with us, and the main fiddler and I were dancing -- more at than with each other, but either way it was magnificent. Definitely a memory to fold up and keep, like Kristen Andreassen telling me that my then-pink hair was awesome, or Abigail Washburn turning to Bela Fleck and saying, "Don't you remember her? She was dancing to us at Merlefest...", or star-watching after Nickel Creek's two-and-a-half-hour set two years ago.

My other new favourite band is the Belleville Outfit, who play old-timey string-band swing music. SO GOOD. Their violinist and female lead vocalist has an extraordinary voice -- very 1920s, and unique. They also played the dance tent. The best things seem to happen there! (I also went to see the Duhks at their dance stage session, which was just as amazing as the other two I mentioned. Also the "new" -- as of two years ago -- lead vocalist can sing, my oh my. I've known this, but it kind of comes home to you when you're two feet away. Also it's very fascinating to me how different Cajun French sounds from European French -- Cajun French has swagger. Somehow it manages to sound like a completely different language.) -- Oh, and there were the Farewell Drifters, who sounded a little like an American Mumford & Sons -- they had the roots influences and the string-band thing going on, but with indie singer-songwriter sorts of melodies and lyrics and arrangements. And then there's the legendary Doc Watson himself, who may be eighty-six, but he's still a very compelling musician and showman.

So much to discuss! So little energy! We got in late last night (and then poor Dad only had time to snatch a few hours of sleep before driving to Ohio for a confernence with our church's denomination), and all day today it has taken much, much willpower to do much besides lie on the bed. Or sometimes on the couch. My legs ache -- in a good way, but still in a don't-want-to-move way; and the cold has drained any remaining energy out of me, except for the tiny reserve I dug up in order to run errands by bicycle this afternoon. (AUUUGH. But I had to fetch my new glasses, and my Ritalin except it still isn't here.) Even turned down an offer of ice cream from Jonathan, because... food. Ack. And bicycling again. I might fall off on the way. plkhsglkhsdf.

In other news, four days from now I will be flying to stay with lady_moriel. (She somehow manages to say calmly and off-handedly. AKJSGHG.) 

...To talk about my summer plans? 

I realised just now that I haven't actually written about them yet, and some of the more pertinent ones are approaching rather quickly. In about a week, Dad and I leave for Merlefest in North Carolina, where it will be gloriously warm... oh, right, and the music, yes. We won two free tickets to the festival last year, from a radio call-in, and really, really loved it -- not only the music, because clearly, it's one of the biggest folk/roots/bluegrass festivals in the country, and nearly everyone good ends up there sooner or later, but because of the atmosphere of it, the locations of the stages -- two are at the bottoms of hills, making for spectacular natural stadium seating! -- the community spirit, the wonderful people who run it, who strictly encourage a family friendly and comfortable atmosphere, the beautiful weather of North Carolina in springtime. Summer would be miserable for me (although I survived physical labour in Mississippi in July, so perhaps I'm hardier in the face of humidity than I give myself credit for), but spring is delicious. I've been daydreaming about it for months, all through the miserable chilly wet grey cloud-heavy winter, dreaming about lying flat in the long grass underneath the afternoon sun, listening to Emmylou Harris. (Emmylou, you guys! EMMYLOU HARRIS. And the Duhks, and Missy Raines & the New Hip, and Ollabelle, and the Greencards, and... wow.)

For me, summer is folk music festivals. Of course this is April, but April in the Carolinas is summer enough by my standards, and by the time May rolls around spring and summer tend to blend into each other anyway. But since I was nine, we've been making pilgrimages to various festivals every summer, and I feel so tremendously at home -- almost at peace, in a way, when I come to another festival; it's almost the same sort of violently familiar and safe feeling that finds me at my grandparents' house, even their new little apartment in a retirement community, because it's full of the pictures and artifacts and furniture and photographs and refridgerator magnets and particular snacks that I remember. Perhaps it's even stronger at festivals because it's music, and the music sometimes takes me further back than the festival experience alone. Emmylou Harris, for example -- she's been crooning to me since I was a baby. There are certain songs that bring back that -- safeness -- and her voice alone relaxes me, and yet makes me ache with remembering.

And festivals are fun. Music, all day! And sunlight, and people, and booths full of delightful oddities, and dancing, and good food, and all of the excitingness that long drives and camping bring (...look, I really like car trips, okay? I don't even know why, I just love them).

And then four days after Dad and I get home from North Carolina, I'm getting on a plane and flying to Kyra.

Pretty much yeah.

So, you remember last summer, lady_moriel came to stay with me for a week? And how we've known each other for like seven years and had never met in person until then? And how it was pretty much the most amazing thing ever? (And how glorious and strange it was, how incredibly familiar she was -- because I've met internet friends before, and there's always that first sense of vertigo, because they're really familiar, except not, because they're occupying physical space, and suddenly they have habits of waving their hands or sitting in a particular way or pacing or being really still and it's just... weird at first? But with Kyra it really wasn't at all, and that was nice.) So, she's graduating from college next month, and after she left we kept saying, we need to do this again, we really really really do, and she thought maybe she could bring me up for her graduation, because she has all of these frequent flyer miles, and... then there was a lot of planning and deciding, and now it's happening. There are tickets, and everything, and I'm going to get on a plane in two weeks and fly all the way to Alaska and watch her graduate and stay with her for a week and a half and I AM SO EXCITED I CAN'T EVEN TELL YOU. I mean, first, PLAAANE -- I love flying, although I've only done it, what, four or five times in my life?, and I love airports, and travelling in general, and all of the weird little things about it, like packing carry-ons and having travel-sized things and snacks and choosing the exact right books and... that sort of thing. And thene KYRAAA. FOR A WEEK AND A HALF. (Also, ALASKA. Have never been there. Have never been off the continental United States, really, unless Quebec counts, in not being the United States but still continental. Anyway.) 

So... yes. Lots of planning going on there. And flailing. And deciding what movies and television to watch together, and planning photoshoots and geekery and things... I HAS A FLAIL. (Not the, um, weapon kind, with the spikes. Really not.)

Then, in July, my family is going to Cape Breton in Nova Scotia -- renting a house, seeing the sights, THERE WILL BE CEILIDHS, real live ones, oh my goodness, this has been a crazy dream of mine for so long, to go to a ceilidh, and I had no expectation of it ever coming true. (Now to make it come true in Ireland...) Aaaannnd, because we're us, we're going to another folk festival out there, the Stan Rogers Folk Music Festival -- we don't know a lot of the artists, as they're mostly Canadian and ergo less well-known over here (although Dad knows and loves James Keelaghan, and some of the artists they've had in previous line-ups kind of made my jaw drap), but... WAIT, SARAH HARMER? WAIT WHAT? SHE WAS NOT ON THE LINE-UP WHEN LAST I CHECKED. Also need to check out Po' Girl, as they seem very much my sort of music. Anyway, it's going to be gorgeous. My aunt is coming along too. I can hardly wait... except there's quite a lot of else to fill up the waiting NOT LEAST STAYING WITH KYRA.

...Which reminds me, I have to start gathering some things for Merlefest... I need sunglasses, and there's a set of feather jewellery I'd like to have (shut up), and I really want a parasol. If I can't get one in time for Merlefest, I at least want one for Stanfest. I've got an old-fashioned sunhat, and plenty of flowy summer dresses, and the first sandals I've owned and liked in about eight years, and a laptop... for which I need a case...

My computer ought to be here tomorrow afternoon! Oh dear, I'm beginning to get giddy. (Beginning? All right, I'm beginning to get excessively giddy. There is definitely literal, physical flailing going on.) I am daydreaming about it entirely too much -- when I am trying to sleep, I usually run over bits of stories in my head, and the same scenes often loop like films until I find I'm getting them right, or I find I'm wearing them a little too thin, but the last several nights, Evy's philosophical conversations with her vampire and Briony confronting Mr Caruthers in a very Briony-like manner and the bit with the motorbike and the ceilidh at the pub: these have given way to endless panoramas of typing, and sorting my music library, and playing Roller Coaster Tycoon, and just generally setting the computer to rights and making my mark on it. I run over what I need to download, and install, and wonder what my first desktop picture ought to be, and whether I should run out to the library and borrow a film I've been wanting to see for a while, or if I should be sensible and watch The Namesake or Pan's Labyrinth instead, two very favourite films which I recieved for Christmas and haven't watched yet.

I have also, with the help of UPS's package tracking system, visualised the journey my computer is travelling to me with MapQuest, which also told me approximately how many miles and hours away it was (only four, in the beginning!). Seeing the path, which is nearly straight, as highways go, was very reassuring. And then I've been shopping around for a laptop bag (more on that later; not having the best of luck thus far), and deciding about criteria for external speakers, and wondering if there's anything else I've absolutely got to purchase (good heavens, I hope not!), and my desk is cleared off and made ready... (And I've missed typing by candleabra-light!) 

Things I want to do when the new computer arrives:

• Completely overhaul my music library, which is a shambles, really. Songbird scrambled all of my album art, which is vexing, to be sure, but there are more complicated things to fix -- songs that need to be retagged, genres to go through and decide upon, duplicates to be deleted, live tracks and rarities that need to be consolidated somehow to calm the disorder, various songs I don't even like that ought to be deleted... When one's music library is spread over three separate computers, there tends to be a lot of muddle.
• And then, there will be mixes. I have so many just a few songs and re-orderings away from being ready!
• Completely renovate my LJ tags and retag old entries and... Wow. Yes. This will be an epic task.
• Thrash out my not-Nano-anymore again. I haven't talked about it much, but I think about it constantly, and play with it, and look in its corners for things I might have missed. (The Ian and Tuesday story, which sometimes goes by Tuesday Skyline, is also frequently present in my mind, though I haven't mentioned it in an age -- just to reassure those of you who were fond of it.) 
• Catch up on some television. And I want to watch Battlestar Galactica.
• Write more essay-like somethings-or-other, to do battle with some of the thoughts and concepts that have been trapped inside of my head of late.
• Write more book reviews. I have been reading so many good books lately, it is positively uncanny! 
• WRITE. WRITE WRITE WRITE WRITE WRITE. I could do this with a notebook and pen, it is true (I have a lovely new composition book with polka dots and owls!), but for anything long, anything that's a story, I write better on a computer, because it's so much more orderly, and I become less confused. And I type faster than I write, and I compose faster than I do either of those things, and occasionally I lose sight of what I meant to say in the middle of trying to say it, which is very displeasing.
• Comment on people's LJs more often! 
• Play a lot of Roller Coaster Tycoon. Possibly acquire The Sims.

I mean, clearly, few of these are projects that are likely to be finished in the near future, and some of them are more disciplines than anything else, but... I'm really looking forward to having things more orderly, more consolidated. 

ALSO MY LAPTOP IS SUPPOSED TO BE HERE TOMORROW.  (Other thing on the list of things to do: post about important things I have neglected to post about, such as Dollhouse, where I am going this summer, my general emotional state, my job, and the many fantastic books I have recently read. You may hold me to these things -- with violence, if need be.)

I've been accepted as a trial poster at musicyardsale and I'm really quite excited about it! All of you who aren't members already should go join. *nods* It's a very lovely friendly community with excitingly varied music recommendations -- and, you know, there will be me.

On the subject of music, the assign-a-letter meme was flittering around the f-list a while ago, and I was tagged and never got round to posting mine. (Part of this is because Mediafire and this laptop do not like each other. I can only upload files if I don't plan to use the computer for the duration, because Mediafire's upload process will freeze everything up. As soon as the upload is finished, everything's fine -- and I haven't had any trouble on any other computers. Sigh.)

burningstarsxeassigned me the letter K. So here you are -- five songs which begin with K. (I seem to have very few. And all of the good ones are by female singer-songwriters. Huh.)

Today was odd. I cried watching the inauguration without meaning or expecting to, worked eight hours, was asked out by an Amish bloke, and secured a job.

(I am wary of being at all political in public, especially as my knowledge in most areas is rather lacking, but it was a lovely inauguration, and I liked that President Obama's speech had things in it like "this is what I'm going to do. And also, this is what you have to do.", and while I still have my reservations, if he lives up to the things he said -- especially the bits about cutting through the old ugliness of politics-for-its-own-sake -- then we will be in a good place. Elizabeth Alexander's poem is much better read on the page than when she read it aloud with all of the odd pauses and jolts -- "maybe the mightiest word is love". Oh dear, what is wrong with me? I am not supposed to be a weeper. Except that in the last year I seem to have become one, somehow, without very much warning. Was it only because I had just got out of bed? I didn't even vote for Obama; why am I weeping all over his inauguration? But whatever your opinion of the man, the fact that an African American is president now, when, only a few generations ago, African Americans couldn't go to the same schools as whites, is awe-inspiring.

I'm still not sure of him myself: but I am willing to be hopeful. Hope is a bit contagious that way.)

And then I went to work for eight hours, because someone had been unable to work the evening shift, and because I am ridiculously helpful and curse myself afterwards every time, I agreed to take over. Well, it wasn't as horrible as it could have been, I suppose: less dead than the last time I worked a double shift. I sang a lot -- I've finally learnt all the words to "Hopeful Hearts" (I'm in a very Sarah Slean sort of mood these days) just in time to get "Lonely Side of the Moon" stuck in my head, and that's a really lovely song to feel in your throat, too, but I've only got the first verse down. And I had a lunch break -- it was three-thirty, which was sort of irritating, as I was hoping for it to be rather later and more convenient for dinner and cutting my working time in half, but I had a sandwich and pudding (!) from Mum, and cheered myself up by buying a bottle of my very favourite Cherries & Cream soda, and I may have kind of waltzed to Ben Sollee in the back room.

Near the dregs of the evening, a young Amish fellow turned up in the kiosk, wandered around a lot, and eventually bought a calendar with Big Shiny Cars on. He did not talk to me, except to ask the price of something, I think, and he made a comment about the weather. Then he went away. Then he came back and wandered around aimlessly some more. And then he came up to my register, turned to me, and asked, "Are you married?"

I said, in the sort of voice that comes out of the vocal chords of the profoundly perplexed, "No-o ... "

"Would you go out with me?" he said.

I didn't mean to step hastily backwards, and when I blurted, "I DON'T DATE," it wasn't meant to sound shocked and faintly terrified, but I am afraid that I did not do as well as I might have otherwise hoped.

He went away (yes, just like that), leaving me to laugh hysterically into my shawl -- not the sort of laughter that signifies anything being funny, but the kind of breathless relieved laughter that consumes one when something deeply bizarre has just occured.

(In retrospect, as I am wearing my great-grandmother's engagement ring anyway, I will say "Absolutely!" the next time my marital status is asked after. Anyway Mrs Wyndham-Pryce is very catchy, no? ... Shut up.)

I have yet to have been flirted with or asked out by a bloke possessing more attractive qualities than the ability to walk on two feet. One had polka-dotted hair (no, really, he said it was a home-dye job gone wrong) and attempted to flirt with me by asking if I had read Twilight, or Nicholas Sparks (perhaps to his knowledge these are the only books girls read?), and commented that my brilliantly red hair was a weird colour for a homeschooler. Another looked to be emulating Kurt Cobain and mostly complained about the town at me while I was very cool and distant until he finally went away. A proper eccentric I mightn't mind -- I like eccentrics; I am one -- but no, I am plagued by weird people. -- Although perhaps the intelligent young men of this world respect other people too much to causally ask out strangers? It is a better thought than "I ATTRACT LUNATICS", anyway.
And the best news of the day: I AM A BOOKSELLER NOW. I have the rest of the month off, and then store hours in February! (Actually, I have store hours tomorrow, because it is the last kiosk day, and according to my co-worker the kiosk will be well torn down by the time I arrive at one thirty tomorrow.) I CAN INTRODUCE PEOPLE TO BOOKS. And before very long I should get to have my own slot on the Employee Recommendations display! And I don't have to give up my book discounts and getting to borrow books and I haven't got to look for a new job in the cold and I HAVE A JOB IN A BOOKSTORE. FOR REAL THIS TIME. :D :D :D

So, my first day on the job, which was absolutely splendid. I met Victoria at the library, we caught up, discussed NaNo and research (amusingly, the entire DuBois chapter of NaNo -- being Victoria, Jonathan, and myself -- has got vampires figured into their stories), and knocked about town until we both had to leave for various duties. Except I realised, after having bicycled for fifteen minutes and then just about to turn onto the road for the mall, that I was an hour early. Oh dear. Well, better early than late, anyway; I poked into a few stores, and then sat down on the bench nearest Waldenbooks, took out the little white bag full of Hockman's chocolates I had just bought downtown, and a book, and read for the next half an hour. Not a bad preperation for job training at a bookstore, I suppose. Only, I had all of my library books with me, because I had checked out several (all hardcovers, naturally), and -- well, my shoulders were not having fun. Neither was the door which I was given to hang it on at Waldenbooks, come to think of it. (It had hooks and everything, I mean, it wasn't just some door I slung my bag over, but gorblimey, I was a little worried.) 
( everything else that happened. )

So, I think I did very well, my first day. It felt more like work than training, but I loved the work, even all of the button-pushing (it had a certain aesthetic pleasure), and the walking back and forth. I remained cheerful and helpful for the duration -- it helped that I was rapturously happy -- did not complain about work, was patient about learning, connected with the customers, asked for more work when I finished a project. I'm still nervous about working the register and closing up at night, but we'll deal with that when we come to it, yeah? I'm meant to call in on Tuesday for a further schedule, and as previously mentioned, officially start at the kiosk on the fourth. And I'm kind of counting the days.

So, um. I kind of have a job now.

Or I will in about a month, anyway.

Yeah. I'm still getting used to the idea myself, and I was there.

So, yes. Interview this afternoon, I changed my shirt twice before leaving, and donned the Heels of Infinite Awesome, and was very sad to discover we had no suitable bread for toast. I also became desperate enough to utilise cough drops: a) throat hurts when it is sore!, b) it is nice to be able to speak during an interview. Anyway, I arrived at the main desk about three minutes early, which was good, and we went into the back and looked over my application and talked about my previous experience (the unpaid, hard to quantify sort) and interests and enthusiasm for all things literary, and then he told me what I'd be doing if I did acquire said job, which is, currently, man the calendar kiosk they have up until the end of the year, with bonus store work as needed -- and, with the holidays coming up and several other employees in positions not to be staying very long, and him being very impressed by me (?! well, that was nice) and my bookish enthusiasm ("that's very important to have as a bookseller") he really wants to get me store work and a more permanent position as soon as things open up a little further. And after we talked all this over, he said, "so, do you want the job?" I was expecting something more like the Ross interview -- more of a well, we'll call you vibe -- but then Waldenbooks is a smaller store with a smaller chain of management. Still, honestly, two days ago I was in the depths of despair (this is not really an exaggeration actually) because I was still woefully unemployed. Today I have a job. Well, not exactly, because in all likelihood I won't start until the fourth of November, with training on the twentieth of October, or earlier if something opens up, and maybe store work if he gets allotted some extra hours (apparently October is a slow month in terms of how many hours his management gave his store). Two days. I am kind of stunned. And happy. Because, blimey. This was my first choice. Way back, last year, when I first started applying, when I had two applications out, this was where I most wanted to end up.

My parents were praying for me while I was interviewing. I think it helped. (And I prayed a little myself, joyfully, speeding back home probably not paying nearly enough attention to the road.) And to all of you who were praying also: thank you.

(Also helping? Coming into the store and asking about job opportunities about once a month since spring.)

Also! I will get very very very awesome discounts. Thirty-three percent off all new books! BOOOOKS. NEW BOOKS. DO YOU REALISE I ALMOST NEVER HAVE HAD NEW BOOKS EVER? (Books which are new to me, of course. Binding-intact fresh-smelling books which are not school books? Rarely. My new books are from thrift stores and library sales and little used bookstores and hand-me-down boxes. I rarely mind, but sometimes I really would like the hardcover cos the paperback's rubbish, and sometimes I would even more like to get the book I want when I want it instead of months or years later.) Some other discounts on other stuff, I don't remember now! I can also borrow books from the store if I return them in saleable condition! (I don't think I get these perks yet, but soon. Anyway I have no money, discount or no.) I GET TO WORK WITH BOOKS, YOU GUYS. AND TAKE THEM OUT OF BOXES AND SMELL THEM AND PUT THEM REVERENTLY ONTO SHELVES AND RECOMMEND THEM TO PEOPLE oh rubbish I'm going to have to sell Twilight to people aren't I. Well now all the lustre's gone out.

The calendar kiosk will likely be sort of dull much of the time, but I am good at entertaining myself without looking as though I am preoccupied, and I like watching people, and there are always people going by there, and what's more IT GIVES ME MONEY WHICH I CAN SAVE AND ACQUIRE A COMPUTER WITH AND ALSO A COLLEGE EDUCATION and Hockman's, there is also that. (Furthermore a certain sense of having a place in the world, even if it is just a sales clerk place.) The hours look to be good, and the pay is ten cents above minimum wage (look, to me, this is untold wealth), and the environment is one that I like, and oh hey there's a really fantastic cinnamon roll shop quite near by, I must not go there ever oh dear oh dear oh dear.

ALSO I AM SEMI-EMPLOYED NOW DID I MENTION THIS.

(My squeeing does not come out physically at all, so I am overcompensating on the internet. It's there, oh it is, but the expression thereof seems to be rather buried.)

Today the Quill & Ink Society had another meeting at last, during which some writing got done, I acquired several tattoos, Hannah christened a centipede Fitzgerald and then promptly squashed it to death with a boot, and all of the very chocolatey cookies I made disappeared with astonishing rapidity.

While we were in the middle of a writing exercise, Mum called. Someone at Ross called and WANTS TO INTERVIEW ME. Ross is by and large TJ Maxx with a different name, and possibly more interesting household goods; it also happens to be one of my favourite stores, because it is full of discount items, most of which are somewhat quirky and extremely well suited to my taste. (It also has excellent inexpensive basic electronics, such as earbuds, giant headphones, headphone splitters, miniature speakers, iPod alarm clocks, and other such tempting and useful things.) The store is large, but not massive, and very bright, and in the mall, which is easy riding distance from my house. I called back as soon as I got home, and have an interview set up for tomorrow (Saturday) at one. Oh dear, I do hope this works out. I would like to have money and something to occupy my time.

Because I am fairly nervous I have set out my clothing for tomorrow already -- red and black, for confidence, but not too much black, lest I look dour: black dress shirt, black-and-red-and-white patchwork skirt with a bit of frill to it, red stockings, dark red leather jacket, and I am attempting to decide whether it would be best to wear my more conservative heels or if my granny boots would be a little too quirky for a first impression. Frittering away my mental energy on such frivolous topics is somewhat calming. ohdearohdearohdear.