So, today is the official deadline for the Clarion workshops. That means that soon the final decisions will be made. I'm looking forward to hearing one way or the other since then at least the waiting will be over.

I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time waiting. I've been waiting to hear from Clarion, I'm waiting to hear back on a story I sent out, I was waiting for months to see Phantom of the Opera. That at least as come to pass.

We got the tickets for it in November, but the show was last Friday. It was absolutely wonderful. There are few things I like better than going to the theater, especially musicals (though finishing a story is one of them), so this was a real treat for me. I'd never had the opportunity to see Phantom before.

Brian and I saw it in Shea's Theater in Buffalo. It was quite a drive, and I had to drive home at night, but it was well worth it. The costuming was great, the choreography good, and the cast was excellent. I was particularly fond of the ballet mistress.

The only problem I had with the experience was one that I often have at musicals. It's what I call "Ovation Inflation". Every show I've gone to has gotten a standing ovation, and while I'm no expert, I can't imagine they all deserved one.

Granted, what they do is very, very difficult, but still. This is the ultimate honor for a performer and I have to wonder how much meaning it holds when people hand them out like water. I liken it to how I would feel if every science fiction story won a Hugo or Nebula. It just wouldn't mean anything then if I got one.

Anyway, this is a standard rant of mine. I think Brian has even come up with a header file for it. Something like ovationrant.h. I should explain that a standard method of conversation between Brain and I is: "insert whatever header here" when either of us is going off, or thinking about going off on a well established rant. For example, when at the supermarket I will say "insert millionreasons.h", which is the rant on why I will never, ever have kids. This is a favorite of both of ours, I think.

So, since there's no coherent flow to this entry, let me go on to something completely new. I made shepard's pie for dinner tonight. For those who have no idea what this is (or do and it's not the same as mine) this is a really quick and simple dish. You cook some hamburger, stick it in the bottom of an oven-safe bowl, cover the meat with creamed corn, cover the corn with mashed potatoes (I use instant), put a couple of pats of butter on the potatoes and stick the whole mess in the oven for half an hour. It's sort of a deranged casserole, but it's really good. I made it for the first time tonight, and it didn't come out at all like my mom's does. I'm not entirely sure why, but it's good nonetheless, so I'm not complaining.

In other news, my Death story got critiqued by my writing class today. It was overall fairly positive, but there was a lot of confusion in one place that I need to clean up. Oddly, the other writers in the group (this is sort of a mixed bag class of experience levels) thought it was fine. One told me I should send it off now. While that was flattering, I think it needs another revision or two. Or three, or four....

But, it's getting there. I can feel that weird sort of energy that I get when something is almost done. Well, as close to done as it's going to get. After the weird energy point I get so sick of looking at the thing I just want to forget I ever wrote it.

I suspect this reaction is a large part of why I will never be a novelist. That and not being able to write anything longer than 3500 words.

Okay, I guess I've babbled enough for now. Bye, all!