| Fic: 13 Months A Year (Or One and a Half Weddings, No Funerals....) |
[Jan. 1st, 2007|03:03 pm] |
Title: 13 Months A Year (Or One and a Half Weddings, No Funerals, and a Distinct Lack of Partridges or Pear Trees)
Fandom: The Office (US)
Pairing Jim/Pam (with Bob Vance/Phyllis, Dwight/Angela, Ryan/Kelly, obvi)
Rating: PG-13 for discussion of sexual situations, swearing, etc.
Notes: Written for ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) likealocket for ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) yankeeficswap 2006.(Original can be found here). Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed there, I wish I had time or enough creativity to respond to every single one of your fabulous reviews.
It must be noted that this fic never, ever, ever would have happened without my fabulous, gorgeous, amazing beta chibi_care, who was literally online every day and night writing mock-ups to get me started, encouraging me, e-mailing me, and hand-holding every single step of the way. Meng is the one who got me into this fandom in the first place, who even told me about the swap, and who has always, always, always been my fandom BFF and soulmate (no matter how weird I think the fandom is, there she is, already writing fic). Anything good that came of this fic is ENTIRELY her doing and for that I'm exceedingly grateful and can never thank her enough. Currently, I'm working on making John Krasinski appear on her doorstep in only leftover Christmas wrap to show my obscene amounts of gratitude, but that wily bugger is trickier to catch than I thought.
( Anyways, fic contained herein ) |
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| "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." |
[Nov. 2nd, 2006|09:54 am] |
NaNoWriMo - Day 1, First Draft
Some days I think about doing something with my life. Then I usually laugh at myself. But some days - I think about it. I think about what I'll do in the magical part of my life I refer to as After Grad School, that time in the glittering future in which I will have a job to do, maybe, or maybe the drive to do something. Maybe in eight to ten years I'll acquire whatever it is that separates the adults that go places from the adults who live to go to the water cooler in between coffee breaks.
It's a pipe dream, I know, but I like to think it'll happen to me.
I think that that drive, that metaphorical revving of the engine before gunning down Route 66 in a blaze of glory only happens to people who have been dreaming of it since they knew what a dream was.
It wasn't that they got ahead start on me in that respect, because I dreamed before them, but my dreams were magnificent and intricately woven dreams of being a princess and befriending dragons for a living. The next week I'd want to open a shop by the seaside, and maybe a month later I'd want to train dogs and paint murals. Other children remained unmoving in their dreams - doctors like Mommy or Daddy, ballerinas, firefighters, Sonic the Hedgehog. Sometimes in nursery school we'd go around in a circle and say what we wanted to be when we were big. "Oh, I don't know," I'd say "I'm not big yet."
I still don't think I'm big, and I still don't know what ambition is beyond an abstract concept. I know it's wanting to do something in the future, but the only future I've planned for myself is up to the end of the term, and maybe on to college. The kids who wanted to be policemen and Power Rangers are now applying early decision to Yale and Dartmouth. They're the successful ones, the ones who will graduate cum laude and move on the exciting and high-powered world of minivans and beach houses, golden retrievers and half a dozen divorces - but hey. They'll be making the big money, right? It's what is supposed to matter, after all.
"You have the potential to be so great," people tell me, "if only you'd apply yourself." I've learned to hate that word in all it's forms - apply, application. It's what I'm supposed to be doing to college and with myself to my academics. I'm pretty sure it's also what you do with paste. I don't know what good it would do me, except to get me in the race towards an end I don't really care about. But the end is what I'm told will be Doing Something. But their idea of Doing Something seems so small. Doing Something isn't earning money, it's not getting married and it's not just having kids, but it doesn't have to be locking yourself in an ivory tower at Harvard and studying neuroscience. Doing Something should be making someone happy, it should be making other people Do Something. It shouldn't have to take money, it shouldn't be about playing a game that gets you ahead in the race to nowhere in life.
Take your cars. Rev your engines and leave me. I'll be biking to somewhere, looking at the clouds. And maybe along the way I'll Do Something. |
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| "The beginning is the most important part of the work." |
[Oct. 29th, 2006|07:42 pm] |
WELCOME TO tongueincheeky!
Okay, so what the hell is this?
This, my ducklings, is the art/writing/creative doodad journal of chibirhm. It's very exciting, I know.
Do you ever update this?
During the month of November, yes. I participate in NaNoWriMo. Other times of the year...well, begging might help.
I would like to get to know you better.
Swell! Head over to my regular journal. I may not friend you, but never let it be said that stalking is not a highly respectable profession.
More questions? Comments? Do leave a comment and I'll get back to you shortly. |
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grateful
bored