Before you ask, it's a track from the Doctor Who: A Christmas Carol OST. Yes, I am that nerdy, no I am not apologising. It's very dramatic, which is exactly what I need right now.
For I am in a terribly good mood, and you're all coming with me.
Performed for the first time as a featured storyteller at the Milk and Cookies Stories night tonight, and everything went smashingly. For those of you around Dublin, you have no excuse not to go in and have a look. It's free, there is free tea (and yes, cookies) and the storytellers are all of a dangerously uncalibrated level of fantastic. The crowd is always enthusiastic and tonight was no exception, I'm pleased that my story of love, bad decisions and Doctor Who enthusiasts seemed to go down a storm. There was even a documentary crew there from Ballyfermot College, so it's possible my ginger dishevelledness will be gracing a screen somewhere important soon.
I'm sitting at my kitchen table, currently very full of Chinese food, in that peculiar no-space between tiredness and hyper-awakeness. See I'm catching a flight in a couple of hours to Croatia, and I can never sleep before flights. I've never lost that silly excitement I get before travelling, as if airports were some magical place only grown-ups are allowed go and I was being let in to have a look. Bags are packed, I'm checked in, and I shall be whisked away by taxi somewhere in the region of five this morning. More than that, I've nailed down all the bits and pieces that I need to do before I leave, so when I come back things should only be a small disaster. A mini-disaster. A disasterlet.
Professionally, my life seems to be ticking along nicely. I received word tonight that there may be quite a big opportunity coming up for my pet project, and I intend to assail it like a rabid Cossack. This has been very much a year of figuring out what my professional personality is, and I've found that I'm not happy unless there's three things going on at once and I can angle my way around all of them. Sometimes I scribble absent lists of these plots, and it makes me laugh that no-one's tapped me on the shoulder yet and said 'sorry mate, you're not allowed to be an arts-hound, back to the realwork mines for you.' Well good fucking luck catching up to me, random over-extended analogy, for I am a blur on the horizon.
My chapbook is nearly finished. I have a name, Silence and Light, (and it was fucking war coming up with it, I went through about twenty names in three languages before deciding simple was best) and the stories are currently being polished up for final submission. I'm also holding a contest on deviantART to get my own original artwork, which means that it will stand out a bit. Oh it shall be so pretty. And sold in Easons, and other Dublin bookshopperies, which is also quite amazing. More details on this as we go.
Other than that... hrrrmm... A close mate of mine once commented that while his professional life was great, his personal life suffered. When I asked him to elaborate, he said
'Well, I don't have one.'
Considering my personal life tends to be a monstrous web of barbed-wire spiders, this may or may not be a bad thing. I am shelving it for the moment in pursuit of being a professional and artistic mess instead. In Zadar, Croatia. With a drink. Two drinks. And a fucking hat.
See you in five days. Be good now.