A phone chat with Terry Brooks

I know I haven’t been the most faithful about keeping up with this blog. My daily comics at Mandarin Blue are taking up a lot more time than I expected (mainly because I didn’t expect to be drawing daily comics myself – it just sort of turned into that!) I’m also swamped with work because writing fantasy takes a ton of time, effort, concentration, and (if you’re doing it for class) background reading. So my apologies for the absence, but it’ll probably be this way for a while.

Just now, after my alarm went off and before I accepted the fact that it was time to get up, I had a dream. In the dream I did get up, only to find my apartment full of people I didn’t know. They were presumably guests of my roommates. I went into the kitchen to get breakfast, and it was messy so I scrubbed some crap off the wall. Then I went back to my room to get dressed. Someone told me it was hot outside, so I looked for summer clothes. There were people in my room and I didn’t want to change in front of them, but they wouldn’t leave, and someone had put a big rack of doo-dads in the bathroom (my roses from JW were on the top shelf) so there wasn’t room to change in there. I went back to my room and started changing with all those people around. If they were offended, they could leave.

Then, while I was still getting dressed, my phone rang. The person on the line identified himself, but I didn’t recognize him by name. He said I probably knew him by his pseudonym, Terry Brooks. He thanked me for commenting on his blog and congratulated me for finding it even though he keeps it under his real name, which nobody knows. When he found out I was a nobody, not even really published, he was even more impressed that I’d had the gall to contact him (geez, Terry, it was just a blog comment!). Then he asked me how my writing was going and whether I was into steampunk. We talked about his teaching position at a university in Britain.

I don’t know if any of these are things Terry Brooks would actually talk about if he called me on the phone. But it would be kind of cool to find out.

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Squareular rainbows

This is the last bracelet I’ll be posting for a while, since one has yet to be given and two have yet to even be made. Guess I’ll have to think of something else to put here. I’m getting the vibe you all aren’t that interested in my crazy-ass dreams (although I am so amused by them that I’ll keep posting them just to have something regular here). For now, keeping up with Mandarin Blue is MORE than enough, since I’ve somehow, without really meaning to or realizing I’d done it, committed myself to making a comic a day until spring. But maaaaaaaaybe, if you all ask REALLY nicely/bribe me with iTunes gift cards, I might consider posting an excerpt or two from the novel I’m working on. Just keep that in mind ^_^

This one was for Mnomanoms, and I am proud to say I see her wearing it every day.

Here’s the pattern from friendship-bracelets.net:

Peace, love and Owl City,
Miss Rex

I think this is what people see when they do acid

Last night was a busy but terrifying night for dreams. For a while I was a Pokémon trainer. I was traveling with a girl who had a bunch of cutesy first-gen Pokémon, which I respected, since later-generation Pokémon suck. I watched her Clefairy take out a Ninetails and was duly impressed, but I never got to do any fighting myself.

Then I was at a carnival, and while it was daytime, normal carnival things went on. I came back after dark when most of the rides were closed down and found one that was still open. Some kids were sitting on it waiting to go while their friend operated the ride. They let me get on. I could only get half of the safety gate closed before the ride started, so I clung to it for dear life while the ride’s arm swung me up and down and out and around.

After the ride, I thanked the kids and left the ride enclosure. Just outside was an elegant, intricate statue of a boy riding an elephant. The boy was made of alabaster and had Asian features, made in an Asian style. The miniature elephant had a smooth China hide detailed like an Oriental rug. I was entranced by the statue’s beauty and gazed at it until my dad (where did he come from?) said to hurry up; we had to go. That was when I noticed that something was looking at me through the little Asian boy’s eyes. They glowed with a dim white-blue light. I think, if not for my dad, I would have been sucked in. As we walked away, I looked back and saw that the statue’s eyes had followed me – because the possessed little boy didn’t want me to leave – and he was crying blood as we turned the corner. My dad said I shouldn’t have looked back. I wished I hadn’t.

Then I woke up in Italy and looked in the mirror to find random swellings on my face like the egg bumps cartoon characters get when people hit them. I found my parents and we went to find a doctor. On the way, my eyes swelled shut. We were lucky even to find a doctor considering that none of us knew the language, and when we did, he greeted us with “buon giorno!” and a bunch of other stuff in Italian. I was like “uhhhhh…. inglese?” Luckily he spoke English. Then he made me move my tongue around a lot. He was disappointed with how lethargically I moved it and told me to keep clicking my tongue as fast as I could until 4:00 that afternoon. Because apparently that would make the egg bumps go away. But apparently it worked, because later that day I was well enough to beg my parents not to make me get on a plane and go home the next day.

Needless to say, this morning, it was a relief to wake up.

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