Today is wonderful. I have the first six chapters of Hobb's new book under my belt and tonight I get to spend long hours on the phone to my Beloved. The new book is magnificent. Having made the attempt to write a book makes me respect her craft even more.

I gave blood today. The needle was much larger than I had expected. The sharp stab as it broke the skin made me wince. Even so, the bag filled up quickly. I'm always surprised at how warm the connecting tube is as I sit with it coiled around my arm. I feel slightly chilled and lightheaded, but such symptoms are more than worth it if my blood indeed goes to saving a life.

I can't wait to call Ash. I was woken by her at 3:30 this morning, and can barely remember what I said. Something about the new book, no doubt. I shall read her some tonight.

Tomorrow, I go to see the Dutch Masters. There will be a lunch beforehand, which I am really looking forward to.

Tonight, I shall read until my eyes blur.

Today, I feel like myself again.

I don't know why. Perhaps a combination of things? Good clean country air coupled with seeing family again? A break from the norm? Several hours of glotzing? I feel as if I have turned over a new leaf (or perhaps page) and can see possibility stretching out before me once more. It's a good feeling. I feel as if I'm back from wherever it is I went. More focused? Yes.

I saw a perfect child today. Tightly curled black hair and beautiful blue eyes. She sat on a bench half covered in dog-hair and stared at me as I waited behind the gate. Such an innocent gaze...

I'm looking forward to radio tonight. The studio will be crowded and the pressure to create a good demo on, yet it will be good to be on air again.

It is almost only a week until Ash arrives. The mere thought makes me smile.

Just got back from taking the dog for a walk. Even though she delights in stealing my poor little socks, I cannot deny her a good run around in the fresh air.

It was actually quite sunny today, which illuminated the bush beautifully. The tracks we walked on contained a thousand different coloured rocks and bits of wood and dirt. It was very nearly dusk, so the trees and thir shadows wove amazing patterns over the brush. We walked to the site of an old mine and strode around the huge granite blocks that are the only things there, apart from the rusty bricks dotted here and there. It was utterly beautiful, completely peaceful.

On the way up, we saw five kangaroos, who didn't move a muscle as we walked past.

I've just finished burning Mum a copy of the Scissor Sisters. I'm doing Missy Higgins next. Maybe she'll get over her Powderfinger obsession. Ah well, gotta love that she's into some decent stuff.

The Scissor Sisters version of 'Take Me Out' (which is the best song in the world at the moment, I adore it) came on the radio as we were driving to the supermarket. I turned it up and attempted to hit the high notes. Brilliant version.

It's good to be home.

Trawling through my brother's MP3s, I come across an old favourite. Adam Sandler's 'Toll Booth Willy.' Totally obscene and revolting, and had me sniggering over the keyboard. I haven't heard that in about 5 years. Takes me back to a certain crush I once had, actually.

This is good music. Macy Gray and the Black Eyed Peas, 'Request Line.' Sometimes I think that I could work in music (or, more accurately, radio) for the rest of my life. One must use the voice one was given, after all. Writing is something that I will never stop doing. Anything else is just a job on the side, but a job on the side in radio would be amazing. SYN is a damn good start. Who knows, maybe I'll get work on a commercial station one day. A friend of mine's sister reads the news on Nova. They look after here, there.

It's something to think about. Radio is fun, above all. It wouldn't hurt to do it for a living.

I finally got a new SIM card for my phone. I can acually get reception in Castlemaine these days.

Today, I'm having lunch with both my Grandma and my Nan. It should be a good day. Nice and relaxing. (Not that I've had any kind of stress lately. And I love it.)

Also, today I'm thinking about poetry.

Today, I'm at my Mum's and am rediscovering song files that are years old. And photos from Paris that I had the foresight to save onto my computer before the board went down. It's something, at least.

It's so utterly cold in the country. I had to 'borrow' my brother's snowboarding jacket to stay unfrozen this morning when I took the dog for a walk. It was worth it, the bush was exactly as I remember it.

What a perfect moment.

I've just submitted my piece based around virtual reality to Voiceworks. I have habit of missing their deadlines, but I have a good feeling about this one. The theme for the issue I submitted to is 'Future Shock,' which fits in extremely well.

I'm really excited about this! Ah, I really hope it gets pulished. Plus, the $100 per short story wouldn't go astray at the moment, either.

Crossing my fingers for this one.

Ah yes, and I plan to enter John Marsten's Prize for Young Australian Writers. Deadline is in August, must be under 25 years and have a piece under 3000 words. I can do that. There's a poetry section, too. Imagine if it got published...

Wish me well.

This morning I was joined by the cat in sleeping in. Of course, I felt horribly guilty to have slept so late, but I worked last night so... That is my excuse.

I meant to post this yesterday: The night before last, I couldn't sleep. For some reason, my mind was filled with images of my old house in Chewton. My mind's eye wandered every inch of the place, from the garden of pigface to the stone stairs that I helped mix the mortar for. I can quite honestly say that no place has ever meant more to me. So, unable to stop the thoughts tumbling over and over in my head, I turned on my light and grabbed a notebook. (I keep at least one near my bed.) I scrawled two or three pages before I started to cry. The last sentences are 'Possession changes nothing, I am that house, it is me. It is in my blood.'

My brother and I have vowed to one day get the house back. And so we will.

Third post and I already can't be bothered doing the title thing. Never mind.

Good night last night. Sitting on the floor in Lisa's kitchen telling Age and Bel of Paris was utterly lovely. Of course, in every possible piece of conversation I slipped in a mention of Ash. Luckily they're lovely and forgive me.

Slept well and heard Erika and Sean leave this morning. When I got up, nobody was here.

Managed to write a drabble as well as doing a writing piece that I remembered from the Good Old Days of my Writer's Workshop class. It came very easily and I used a style that I haven't recently.

'Scissor Sisters' are on. I love this CD. Definately suits the 'Almost Summer' that the weather has decided to become.

Expression

So, I managed to get something down. I was stretched out on my bed scribbling into my notepad for a while before getting up and walking over to the computer. It seems to work well that way. It's funny, no matter what I'm writing, I'll always stop for a moment and roll my lovely fountain pen between my finger and thumb, feeling the ink rock around inside it.

And then, of course, it flows onto the page. Seems so strange that something so formless in one instant could have so much meaning the next!

A hard character, I think. Or perhaps not. Perhaps the hard character is the second voice? It needs another draft, at least. I don't have time now, maybe tomorrow.

Writing internal monologue always makes me wordy.

Concrete

I wrote in wet concrete today. Just my initials. Should have been something slightly more profound, but that'll do for now. I'm sure that handy stick is still sitting in the gutter, and it will be wet concrete for a few more hours.

A good walk home. A good walk for thinking. Came up with a character. To put in place someone else's character, actually. But you never know. I might have to wait to use it. But it's there.

It occured to me this morning that I would like to write someone evil. Sharp. Someone with bite, even. Started tinkering with a character, but it's not terribly appropriate for what I'm writing at the moment. But, we shall see.

I'm thinking too much, today. This is why I've created this, I suppose. To muse.

(And I borrowed a lovely template, thank you Rian.)

I recorded my dream first thing today. Caught it, too. I remember swimming underwater. I was trying to swim in a tunnel, feeling the fluttering feet of the person swimming before me brush against my fingertips. The tunnel was more of a gate, actually. There was a stone wall built within a natural lake in the mountains. And a Prince's son, locked in a cage underwater. We had to ask him why he was there, and that would solve the riddle. Before that, a river dividing two green banks. On one side was danger, but it was unseen. And I planted a carrot beside the bank. It grew.

Ah, dreams. I've been dreaming a lot, lately. Need to write them down.

This afternoon, I shall write something edgy.