written in pain, written in awe

Whee! I just pressed "Send" on the email with zip file attachment which sent this book thing, in Positively! Its! Last! Appearance!, off to Michigan. I technically finished the updates this weekend, but I've spent the last few days suffering from the nit-picky polishing impulse which is basically a delaying tactic as I can't bear to send the child of my intellect staggering off into the void owing to my haunting fear that its hair might be inadequately brushed and there are probably, metaphorically speaking, chocolate stains all over its shirt. I was moderately pleased with the final chapter, though, in which I scientifically dissected Hoodwinked, Happily N'Ever and Shrek the Third and was beautifully and meticulously rude about them. Enchanted got better press, on mature reflection I think it was fun and reasonably intelligent.

Oops. In the Department of Desperate Fangirlyness, Amazon.co.uk is currently selling X-Files seasons for just under ten pounds a shot - I shamelessly brandish this low-budget acquisition opportunity in the vague hopes that some of you lot might go forth and acquire same, thus lessening my consumerist angst.I went a little mad with the Mulder/Scully love, bringing my collection up to Season 7 (The Last Proper One With Mulder). Sorry, mother... I may have to pay you vast sums to mail them to me so that you don't end up with the usual metric tonnage of Stuff to bear burdensomely hither in July.

Boring meetings all afternoon, but off to see Sweeny Todd this evening. Yay demon barbers! Memo to self, must get hair cut...

Last Night I Dreamed: I was a dragon in control of armies, in competition and uneasy alliances with other dragons. Dragon-breeding for additional intelligence was a factor at some point, as was sitting on top of a mountain surveying the battle. Later, when no longer a dragon, I decided that the SCA play was successful enough that we were going to put on another one, this time by J M Barrie. (For some inexplicable reason, since he's so appropriate to the SCA setting). I hunted desperately for a copy of said play throught the music library, which was a huge, beautiful, 18th-century stone building full of enormous wood-panelled rooms and leather-bound books, none of which were shelved in any sort of logical order at all. I finally found it in an unlikely place, and then had to rewrite it to make it shorter, simpler and a musical. (I diagnose too much Enchanted, or alternatively khoi_boi's tendency to sing the SCA play as Gilbert and Sullivan patter songs).