Tags
archives, archivist, bbc merlin, c.s. lewis, camelot, camp nanowrimo, camp nanowrimo july 2014, desks, editing, editor, kysherin, muse, nanowrimo, national novel writing month, paperwork, selay'uu, star wars, the chronicles of narnia
It has taken me a while to write, once more, and I apologize. I have had college to apply for, and Nanowrimo (which, by the way, I WON! 😀 ) to finish, and job applications to work on. Fortunately, there is a “schedule” function on WordPress, and I have lots of random things handy to post. My drafts folder is like my mind; full of partially-completed work, and extremely cluttered and mixed-up.
Once again, I find myself wondering just how my life got this crazy. And I respond to it in exactly the same way as always: I mull over the question for a while, then I decide it’s all Kysherin’s fault. And when I look in the mirror and see my reflection–messy chestnut/auburn curls, dark eyes, square jawline–I decide it’s really not worth it to try and look more impressive. Or put on makeup. I don’t understand why most girls my age wear it.
This morning, I was looking at my books again–my personal books, not the ones in the library/archives–and found a proposal I had begun only recently, but had also recently forgotten. It was a proposal for me to visit Camelot and explore my new-found magical abilities and study with Merlin, Alice, and Gaius. Unfortunately, it had gotten rather crinkled (paper tends to do that when it is lying on a shelf under Anakin’s rock collection–why it was on my shelf may some day be explained–or not…) in its time in hiatus. I groaned and got out a new sheet of paper, picking up Anakin’s rock collection and shoving it under the leg of my desk. Perhaps I should explain. My desk is rather old-fashioned. It is large, with several drawers, full to the brim with stuff. Most of it is orderly (my pens, pencils, mechanical pencils, mechanical pencil refill leads and erasers, vinyl erasers, etc. are sorted in a valet tray in one drawer,) but the one largest drawer–which, by rights, should contain electronics, but instead holds a bunch of old three-ring-binders, each shedding pieces of plastic from their covers, which are held together with duct tape and most of which are mislabeled–is decidedly untidy. I should get around to overhauling it some time. Anyway, my desk is very old. In fact, it’s an exact duplicate of one my father brought home when he was switching jobs when I was very small (just without the same contents.) It is dark, mahogany-colored wood, but the stain and varnish are wearing off in places, and if you scratch the varnish with your fingernail it starts to flake off in an unpleasant-feeling powder. The “legs” of the desk, which, I suspect, have been extended upwards to accommodate my father’s height (he’s a tall man, and I take after him,) are mostly drawers, and the desk is clearly designed to go right up against a wall (I should get Jay to help me with that…) but there is a space in between the bottom drawer on the “leg” and the actual foot of the desk, that rests on the floor. It was covered by a piece of wood, originally, but due to mishandling by the movers and mistreatment by us kids, the pins or staples holding the cover in place gave way, leaving me with a compartment that I can hide things in by pulling the piece of wood off, shove stuff I want to hide into, and then push the pins lightly back into their holes. It’s very convenient.
Anyway, so I pushed Anakin’s rock collection into my hidden compartment (which was, at the moment, empty, though much of the time it’s as full of random stuff as a first draft that needs editing, or a G.A. Henty novel sprung up, grown wild, and gone to seed.) and found two pieces of loose paper and went to work, copying my proposal neatly out twice and completing it. I thought about email, but something of this importance required El’ye’s permission (I still have not figured out why), and she didn’t like modern innovations, though Merlin would have been comfortable with a simple email with the proposal attached. Immortality necessitates being very adaptable, I believe. Which is a bit of a paradox, since I think El’ye is at least a pretender to immortality.
Anyway, after checking my drafts over, I went to my window (living in a tower is quite delightful, by the way, though the people on laundry duty always complain about the stairs) and shouted for Kilgarrah. He was not very happy at being shouted for, and still more annoyed about carrying my mail (“I am not a mail horse, young recorder!”), but as I am on good terms with Merlin (who is currently spending what remains of the summer in Camelot), he condescended to carry my message to the young warlock with a bad grace. That done, I whistled for Glimfeather, who came much more briskly and cheerfully than Kilgarrah had. I was politer to him than I had been with the dragon (Kilgarrah doesn’t like me much, and the feeling is mutual; the dragon is too self-centered and survival-centered and Machiavellian for my taste), and Glimfeather kindly agreed to carry my message to El’ye. So far, so good.
With a much heavier heart, I returned to my piles upon piles of paperwork. At least, hopefully, by the end of the summer I would be serving an internship in Camelot for the term (though I would be in and out of the Selay’uu chateau all the time.) I can hardly wait!
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