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I've got blisters on my fingers!
No, seriously, I do. And tons more respect for anyone who has ever played guitar, even if they did it really, really badly. God. I can't even hold down C for more than a few minutes without being in mondo amounts of pain. My hands! They are way too dainty for this! But, of the good, my sister's boyfriend taught me how to do those really gorgeous harmonic chords from August Rush, and I figured out all on my own how to pluck out parts of Habenera: I am now a happy clam.
Once I look less like I'm just randomly pawing at the strings in the futile hope that somehow I will make a pretty sound, I will possibly even attempt to take a picture. That's how excited I am, okay.
Anyway. I know I'm massively behind on comments and, like, everything ever. Please do not hit me with a rolling pin. :(
The house is all mine from Sunday to Wednesday, so I plan to take advantage of the abandoned living room and spend a lot of time writing. And, yes, I keep saying I'm almost done with the fics I'm writing, and then I go back and reread them and something vital in my head goes gllllllllrk and stops working. So, uh, it's slow-going. Hopefully! Hopefully the quiet will allow me to get past the part of the thigh holster fic wherein John slams Rodney against a wall.
Speaking of unutterably hot things:
Good morning, flist.
Once I look less like I'm just randomly pawing at the strings in the futile hope that somehow I will make a pretty sound, I will possibly even attempt to take a picture. That's how excited I am, okay.
Anyway. I know I'm massively behind on comments and, like, everything ever. Please do not hit me with a rolling pin. :(
The house is all mine from Sunday to Wednesday, so I plan to take advantage of the abandoned living room and spend a lot of time writing. And, yes, I keep saying I'm almost done with the fics I'm writing, and then I go back and reread them and something vital in my head goes gllllllllrk and stops working. So, uh, it's slow-going. Hopefully! Hopefully the quiet will allow me to get past the part of the thigh holster fic wherein John slams Rodney against a wall.
Speaking of unutterably hot things:
Good morning, flist.
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*makes grabby hands of WANT*
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*climbs into your lap*
I kinda feel like CRAP today, Melface. :(
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*cuddles you gently* What's wrong, baby?
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