Confessions of a One-Track Mind

I got undertime early yesterday, so I was able to attend the Haunted Sleepover at church---the whole thing. Which turned out to be something of an anticlimax, since there were only four other people there and the party broke up early instead of going on all night. Still, undertime---there's been very little of that lately, but the phones were fairly quiet, so...Miracle #1.

I hit the road just in time for the 5PM Friday rush. Oh, joy! It was bright and sunny when I got out of work, but just a few miles down the road, the sky was black. No hyperbole: The clouds north of Melbourne were dark with water.

Now, if you've joined this journal already in progress, let me confide that I've had some heavy-duty anxiety issues. The first couple of months, I had to nerve myself up just to drive to Melbourne---or home from same---regardless of the weather. If I hadn't been completely desperate for a job, I NEVER would've set myself up for that stress, because my comfort zone was about 3 miles square and I practically hid under the bed rather than drive in the rain---any rain!

There was a bit of drippy mist north of Eau Gallie, then it started seriously pissing down at Post Road---which means nothing to most of you, from from there to the Patrick Causeway, a distance of some 4-5 miles, it was all I could do to see the lines on the road and the cars ahead of and beside me. Didn't whimper or pull off to the shoulder, which I've been known to do when the weather scared me---nope, I gripped the wheel and did about 30 mph, and at that, I actually passed another car.

It trailed off just before the causeway, and the rest of the drive home rained lightly and intermittently. Considering that that would've once been impossible for me---without a full-scale freak-out, I'm looking at that as Miracle #2.

Tomorrow, Red is meeting me durng my lunch break and bringing me my belated birthday present: Iron Man: the DVD. Yay! Because RDJ falls within the parameters of a type I've gone for forever: dark hair and Bambi-brown bedroom eyes...just sayin'!

Oh, and I've had my first-ever request from someone who wants to post a translation of one of my stories: a Russian chick wants to do End Game. Mega-yay! An "international best-seller"!

Last night, I exorcized a minor SPN bunny to get it out of my system. I produced a ficlet---nothing major: 200 words on how I think the series could end. (Not even how I'd LIKE for it to end, just...a scenario.) I'll be the first to admit that End Game is not deathless prose, but I posted it here, and over at ff.net before heading off to bed, and this morning, I awoke to a ff review that said, in its entirety, "This...isn't even a fanfic."

To which I fired back a good-humored response: "Okay, it's a prophecy."

What I find especially amusing is what the reviewer says on his/her profile, "I love leaving reviews. I try and leave well rounded con-crit for stories that...need it? I've been on this site for quite a while and I think I can tell complete rubbish from fics that just need a little guidance."

THIS is well-rounded con-crit? Guidance? It is to laugh! Particularly coming from someone who's written two stories in two years and nothing whatsoever in the fandom in question. I think this is going to become one of my favorite reviews, right up there with the one for Mary Sue Sells Mary Kay, which bleated, "You ruined Edward Scissorhands!.

Anybody else want to share off-the-wall reviews you've had?