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Aug. 2nd, 2006 11:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lenora_roseProgress notes for August 2, 2006:
Raising the Storm
New Words: 870
Reason for stopping: Again, bedtime. Also, every one word of climactic scene stuff seems to drag getting out.
Tea: Blueberry rooibus
Can't stop fidgeting: I keep thinking there's a small scene I need to include just before the climax, to drag a minor offstage death onstage. Er, another minor death.
Mean Things: Do melodramatic theatrics count as mean? What if they manage to break the morale of an entire army?
Tyop Du Jour: forcefilly
___________________________
On the way back from work, I stopped at a convenience store I don't usually visit. The fellow behind the counter turns out to be someone I dated exactly once, either in high school or in college.
I had no idea how he knew me or why he looked vaguely familiar, and had to admit as much, until he prompted me, but once he did -
I remember he tried to pick me up in the Winnipeg Public Library. In fact, while I was browsing the young adult section on the second floor, which had me worried he thought I was younger than I was (Not in a nasty way; as in "Oh, the shame of being taken for sixteen not eighteen by a fellow eighteen year old!").
I remember the restaurant (He said Corydon Avenue, but I named the exact place.), and more than anything he actually said to prompt my memory, I remember one particular thing he repeated a few times through the date and subsequent phone calls, that he mostly wanted "coffee and good conversation". (I remember it down to the inflections, but I didn't quote it back at him, though he still has much of the accent that made it so distinct.) He was also, er, not being entirely honest, with either me or himself, based on how strongly he came on the rest of the time.
I'd have sworn that this was an unmemorable thing, or at least that I was unmemorable, or memorable for my behaviour, not my appearance; he didn't see me at all after that, and my way of saying I didn't want a second date, shy and unaccustomed to being pursued as I was, was mostly to avoid calling him back, until the phone call where he shouted at me for it and insisted he'd have preferred honesty. (Which is part of why since then I've talked things out.) Though I didn't tell him now I understood I'd been a heel then. Mostly since he seemed not to recall that part, just the date and the restaurant, and to be friendly and sincerely not pushy now.
But he did recognize me, and that more than any of the odd really-old-history, "fancy that, meeting you here", stuff, is what bemuses me. I've had an ex-boyfriend walk past me not knowing me. (And I mean with no real clue who I was, not pretending as a more recent ex was doing all this Fringe.) I just don't think of myself as memorable -- or, if memorable, memorable because I said the wrong thing too loud, or did something supremely silly (Like almost faceplanting on the dance floor, and actually landing on my ass at least twice, during my own wedding. And there I knew I was in company who'd recall that charitably.)
Hmmm....
Raising the Storm
New Words: 870
Reason for stopping: Again, bedtime. Also, every one word of climactic scene stuff seems to drag getting out.
Tea: Blueberry rooibus
Can't stop fidgeting: I keep thinking there's a small scene I need to include just before the climax, to drag a minor offstage death onstage. Er, another minor death.
Mean Things: Do melodramatic theatrics count as mean? What if they manage to break the morale of an entire army?
Tyop Du Jour: forcefilly
___________________________
On the way back from work, I stopped at a convenience store I don't usually visit. The fellow behind the counter turns out to be someone I dated exactly once, either in high school or in college.
I had no idea how he knew me or why he looked vaguely familiar, and had to admit as much, until he prompted me, but once he did -
I remember he tried to pick me up in the Winnipeg Public Library. In fact, while I was browsing the young adult section on the second floor, which had me worried he thought I was younger than I was (Not in a nasty way; as in "Oh, the shame of being taken for sixteen not eighteen by a fellow eighteen year old!").
I remember the restaurant (He said Corydon Avenue, but I named the exact place.), and more than anything he actually said to prompt my memory, I remember one particular thing he repeated a few times through the date and subsequent phone calls, that he mostly wanted "coffee and good conversation". (I remember it down to the inflections, but I didn't quote it back at him, though he still has much of the accent that made it so distinct.) He was also, er, not being entirely honest, with either me or himself, based on how strongly he came on the rest of the time.
I'd have sworn that this was an unmemorable thing, or at least that I was unmemorable, or memorable for my behaviour, not my appearance; he didn't see me at all after that, and my way of saying I didn't want a second date, shy and unaccustomed to being pursued as I was, was mostly to avoid calling him back, until the phone call where he shouted at me for it and insisted he'd have preferred honesty. (Which is part of why since then I've talked things out.) Though I didn't tell him now I understood I'd been a heel then. Mostly since he seemed not to recall that part, just the date and the restaurant, and to be friendly and sincerely not pushy now.
But he did recognize me, and that more than any of the odd really-old-history, "fancy that, meeting you here", stuff, is what bemuses me. I've had an ex-boyfriend walk past me not knowing me. (And I mean with no real clue who I was, not pretending as a more recent ex was doing all this Fringe.) I just don't think of myself as memorable -- or, if memorable, memorable because I said the wrong thing too loud, or did something supremely silly (Like almost faceplanting on the dance floor, and actually landing on my ass at least twice, during my own wedding. And there I knew I was in company who'd recall that charitably.)
Hmmm....
