Hear that? That's my heart.

Some people hide their hearts in an enchanted ivory box. They bury it in a glacier and set ice dragons to guard it. Even then they don't think it's well protected.

Some people wear their hearts on their sleeve. They dance through life and are surprised at how often someone steals their heart.

Then there is me. I'm a very strange cross between the two. I fall in with writing bickity bam, just like that but at the same time I am as scornful of most writing as any princess looking at the suitors who are waiting to climb the glass mountain to win her hand.

Chris and I were playing the slush game the other night. I read the beginning to entries in a writing contest out loud until he said to stop. We stopped at the first sentence with some stories. Most of them we quit by paragraph five.

We only got to the end of one and that's because I skipped the beginning of the story. I found what I thought was the real beginning and we went from there.

I'm having a hard time reviewing scripts and stories at Zoe because I just don't have the patience to read most of them. Maybe it's the thought of that possible brain surgery waiting for me down the road. Maybe life really is too short to read stuff that doesn't appeal to me.

But oh you kid, when I find something I like I fall in love all over again. The stars shine brighter, the air smells newer and that sound in my ears? It really could be the sound of my heart after all and not the sound of my brainstem stretching.



Thank you to Teresa Nielsen Hayden of Making Light who linked to ftrain. I'm happily reading her archives in my copious spare time. She helps keep me freaking out and she doesn't even know me. Now that is cool.