birds and writing

So the prize for the first perch this year goes to Drew the starling! Drew came to me Tuesday, smelling of asphalt and with wicked road burn on hs underside. There's something about starlings that really bums me out when they're hurt. I mean, that goes for all birds, but there's something so pathetic about baby starlings to begin with. They're awkward, all legs and beak and round egg-belly, and they're noisy and demanding and obnoxious. So when something happens to make them quiet, it's really sad. I remember back when I first started, I got a cat-bit starly and I didn't know what to do with him, so I brought him to this wildlife place I won't name. The woman took him from me (baby starly all quiet, bleeding from bites on his belly and under his wing,) and she made all pretense of cleaning him with betadine, while he just looked at her, sort of resigned and helpless. I later found out that this place (like many wildlife places) euthanizes starlings across the board. So I never forgot that baby, and now I take starlies when hardly anyone else in the area will.

Right now I've got Sing, Wah, Qiu and Drew, then there's the younger set: Ryan, Colin, Wayne, Brad and Chip. Also on tuesday I got the teensiest hatchling song sparrow, and his name is Ewan, in honor of Ewan McGregor and the new Star Wars. Just this evening, I got two more starlies that I haven't named yet. This is in addition to my all year birds, Cassidy, Little Jon and Trinity.

And that's birds for tonight.

Friday at work was hectic, but fun. Everyone seemed to be in a really good mood. Yet I couldn't wait to get home. In a writing magazine once, I read something about your story being the secret lover you're always thinking about returning to. I hadn't felt that in a really, really long time, but all day Friday, I was longing to be writing. I had all these ideas and scenes in my head, and I was really excited. It's such an awesome feeling, even writing this thing in a vacuum as I am. And then you know what happened? I got home, fed the birds, let the dogs out, took a shower, fed the birds again, cleaned Pendragon's cage, decided to give dinner a miss in favor of chocolate covered strawberries and so I made those, fed the birds, sat down to answer email, looked at some home music videos Casse had made, then decided to make my own. I said, "I'll have plenty of time to write those scenes tomorrow."

Today: Got up early, fed the birds, fed Pendragon, let the dogs out, got dressed, had breakfast, went to Kung Fu. Fed the birds (I had them with me at Kung Fu--not all of them, just the littlest ones,) came home, fed the birds, went shopping (ice cream!) fed the birds, cleaned the house because Laura was coming over tonight to drop off the two new starlies. Cleaned all the bir cages, put the fledglings in their new cages, fed the birds, fed the dogs, made dinner, worked some more on the home music video, then Laura came by and stayed for about an hour. then I fed the birds, took a shower, fed the birds let the dogs out again, fed the birds, fiished the video, and then I took Pendragon out. And now, folks, I'm writing in my blog.

I got discouraged last night while reading Neuromancer again. I read it years ago and I loved it. As anyone might have predicted, I fell pretty hard for Case. I love Gibson's style of writing. Why is it that one paragraph of Case angst is worth one hundred pages of my own lead character overcoming his angst? Case, hysterical and screaming "Don't do this to me, Winermute!" packs more of a punch than about three chapters of my book. So not fair. I don't know how he does it.

I should try to find out. Uhh, after I feed the birds again.

birds and writing

So the prize for the first perch this year goes to Drew the starling! Drew came to me Tuesday, smelling of asphalt and with wicked road burn on hs underside. There's something about starlings that really bums me out when they're hurt. I mean, that goes for all birds, but there's something so pathetic about baby starlings to begin with. They're awkward, all legs and beak and round egg-belly, and they're noisy and demanding and obnoxious. So when something happens to make them quiet, it's really sad. I remember back when I first started, I got a cat-bit starly and I didn't know what to do with him, so I brought him to this wildlife place I won't name. The woman took him from me (baby starly all quiet, bleeding from bites on his belly and under his wing,) and she made all pretense of cleaning him with betadine, while he just looked at her, sort of resigned and helpless. I later found out that this place (like many wildlife places) euthanizes starlings across the board. So I never forgot that baby, and now I take starlies when hardly anyone else in the area will.

Right now I've got Sing, Wah, Qiu and Drew, then there's the younger set: Ryan, Colin, Wayne, Brad and Chip. Also on tuesday I got the teensiest hatchling song sparrow, and his name is Ewan, in honor of Ewan McGregor and the new Star Wars. Just this evening, I got two more starlies that I haven't named yet. This is in addition to my all year birds, Cassidy, Little Jon and Trinity.

And that's birds for tonight.

Friday at work was hectic, but fun. Everyone seemed to be in a really good mood. Yet I couldn't wait to get home. In a writing magazine once, I read something about your story being the secret lover you're always thinking about returning to. I hadn't felt that in a really, really long time, but all day Friday, I was longing to be writing. I had all these ideas and scenes in my head, and I was really excited. It's such an awesome feeling, even writing this thing in a vacuum as I am. And then you know what happened? I got home, fed the birds, let the dogs out, took a shower, fed the birds again, cleaned Pendragon's cage, decided to give dinner a miss in favor of chocolate covered strawberries and so I made those, fed the birds, sat down to answer email, looked at some home music videos Casse had made, then decided to make my own. I said, "I'll have plenty of time to write those scenes tomorrow."

Today: Got up early, fed the birds, fed Pendragon, let the dogs out, got dressed, had breakfast, went to Kung Fu. Fed the birds (I had them with me at Kung Fu--not all of them, just the littlest ones,) came home, fed the birds, went shopping (ice cream!) fed the birds, cleaned the house because Laura was coming over tonight to drop off the two new starlies. Cleaned all the bir cages, put the fledglings in their new cages, fed the birds, fed the dogs, made dinner, worked some more on the home music video, then Laura came by and stayed for about an hour. then I fed the birds, took a shower, fed the birds let the dogs out again, fed the birds, fiished the video, and then I took Pendragon out. And now, folks, I'm writing in my blog.

I got discouraged last night while reading Neuromancer again. I read it years ago and I loved it. As anyone might have predicted, I fell pretty hard for Case. I love Gibson's style of writing. Why is it that one paragraph of Case angst is worth one hundred pages of my own lead character overcoming his angst? Case, hysterical and screaming "Don't do this to me, Winermute!" packs more of a punch than about three chapters of my book. So not fair. I don't know how he does it.

I should try to find out. Uhh, after I feed the birds again.