Regina Noctis

I’m accustomed to the last two nights of the month being busy. I’ve come to refer to them as Hell Nights.

This one was particularly bad. According to the boss, it was a record for the number of closings South Bay EPIC has gotten in a single night. Seventy-seven files was the count when we called around to find out how many files to expect tonight.

The only good thing about it being so busy is that it made the boys buckle down and work instead of spending all their time talking. We hauled ass tonight. I was expecting to work until 2 or 3 in the morning. We were done and out of there at 1:15.

Just to compare… Seventy-seven files, without the boys on the night crew blathering away, and we were out at 1:15. 27 files, the boys decide that they can relax and spend most of their time talking while Virginia, Sara, and I do most of the work, and we don’t get out until 11:45 or so.

I like the boys. They’re fun to have around. But they just don’t get that if we kept up this pace when we have fewer files, we could all be out at like 8 or 9 at night. I don’t really want to see any of them go. When I take those rare times to stop and talk for a minute or two, I enjoy the conversation. But honestly, we get more done without them. Friday nights, when it’s only Sara, Virginia, and me, we can rip through files like you wouldn’t believe. Fridays, the funding crew is often slammed, so Sara will usually wind up helping them out instead of working on closings. Virginia and I have managed to do most of up to 30 files between just the two of us, and get out by 9 or 10.

It finally got through to one of the guys tonight. He realized that we were averaging around 10 files an hour tonight, and started asking why it is that when we have half that, we aren’t done hours earlier. I pointed out the amount of talking that didn’t go on tonight. And I told him that standing there gossiping for 30 minutes at a time doesn’t just mean that they’re not doing work. Other people on the crew start listening, and it slows them down. Virginia, for example. She can’t concentrate as well and process as quickly when there’s a lot of noise going on around her. She can’t tune it out.

I wonder if that will change anything about how Jared works, now that he and I had that talk.

I doubt it, somehow. This has been mentioned once or twice in the past, and it’s never stopped it before.

You sometimes doubt yourself – who you are and what you can do. You’re a curious person, with questions and concerns about the world. You go along with the crowd and aim to please others to your best ability. But when you finally discover what you’re really capable of, you can do some serious ass kickin’! You’re fast and furious, and you will always stick up for what you believe, and those who you care for. Not only that, but you’re charming and charismatic, so you get along with people well, and others often look up to you.

I should never have discovered the wish list at Amazon. I’ve spent entirely too much time adding stuff to it for future purchase.

See which Greek Goddess you are.

Take the What
animal best portrays your sexual appetite?? Quiz

For some time now, I’ve considered posting this here. I talk a lot about how much Lee’s writing impresses me. I’ve wanted to actually share it with people so they can see what I’m on about. And I’m not patient enough to wait for the site to go live so I can just point people to the URL.

Lee told me to post the things I’d been considering posting. So, since I have permission, here we go. I’ll actually post it as a separate entry. For this one, I’m going to fill in a little background. It’ll help to make the story more striking, I think, if everyone knows about some of the backstory.

Tantalus joined the Delian League and moved into Marathon on orders from Sparta. He was to be a spy, and seduce information from the spies of the League, who were all women and mostly former hetairai. His first target was Sibylla Aristocratos, the matchmaking hetaira of Marathon. She was involved, but thought he’d be a good match for her cousin Olympias.

Olympias was new to being a spy, and not as wary as she should have been. She accepted Tantalus for what he presented himself as, and was powerfully attracted to him. It didn’t take her long to start falling in love with him. However, she was not the source of information he was really looking for. She was too new to have much information for him to pick up.

Then Tantalus pushed Olympias away. She didn’t know why things had changed. She left, broken-hearted, on a long trip to Jerusalem with her friend, the poet Rhesa.

While Olympias was gone, Tantalus considered this mission he’d been sent on. He’d never been comfortable with it. And living in Marathon among the people of the League had begun to tear away the beliefs of his Upbringing in Sparta. After considering, he decided to tell the Delian League command his true reason for coming to Marathon and joining the League. By this time, Tantalus had risen to the rank of Taxiarchos, commander of 3000 men.

The only problem with truly joining the League was Tantalus’s son Nikomedes. The boy was in the Agoge in Sparta, and Tantalus’s Mentor had let it be known that if Tantalus showed any disloyalty to Sparta, Nikomedes would die. Tantalus had already lost his wife Philomache. She died giving birth to Nikomedes. Tantalus loved her still. And even though he hadn’t seen much of Nikomedes since the boy went into the Agoge, he was all Tantalus had left of the wife Tantalus still loved.

Tantalus snuck into Sparta and kidnapped Nikomedes from the Agoge. He spirited the boy away to Marathon, only to discover that Nikomedes hated his father. The boy had been told that Tantalus was a deserter and a Trembler, a coward.

Olympias and Rhesa returned from Jerusalem one night when Nikomedes made a bid to escape back to Sparta. Olympias, who had been plagued with nightmares about death that seemed to have some connection to Tantalus, watched in horror while father and son fought each other. Nikomedes was finally subdued, and in the aftermath of the fight, Tantalus invited Olympias into his home.

Tantalus told Olympias the truth of his coming to Marathon, and that he’d been meant to only use her as a source of information. It shook her badly, but in the end she agreed to a friendship with him. She also learned that he was her commander. She had been officially assigned to his Taxi as his spy.

Shortly after that night, a huge army marched into the north of Greece. The Persians were invading. The League was mobilized to defend Hellas from the Persian threat.

While the League forces awaited the Persians, Tantalus was attacked by a Spartan assassin sent by his old Mentor Lakratidas. The attempt on Tantalus’s life failed.

The first time they engaged the Persians, in the midst of the battle, Lakratidas himself tried to kill Tantalus. Brasidas, another Taxiarchos, saved Tantalus’s life and killed Lakratidas, and very nearly died himself doing it. Tantalus himself was badly wounded, but fought on.

The Persians were temporarily driven back, and the League forces retreated to hold the pass at Thermopylae. Tantalus was given the honor of defending the goat paths on Mount Kallidromos, to prevent the Persians from flanking the forces in the pass.

So now that you know the background leading up to this, on to the Heights of Kallidromos. *grins*

And the dance comes to a halt.

The pair from tonight’s double-headed attempt are bailing. Got almost identical “Well, gotta go now” style messages from them, one right after the other. They must be getting frustrated, the poor dears. :D

I ran into Lee briefly online, and we talked a little about what he’s writing, what I’m writing, and a book that I loved and he’s now going to look for. Then he went off to take a break from computerland, and the dance started.

Our friendly neighborhood conspirators from the League, the ones who were trying to get me to make a misstep they could use to get me in trouble, started up. They’re back to the sound-friendly-and-try-to-get-information-out-of-me stage, with just little tests tossed my way to see if I’ll rise to the bait and say something that could get me in trouble. They seem to have realized that insulting me directly isn’t going to work, so they’ve been making less than flattering implications about Lee tonight. Nothing overt, just hints. Trying to play on my tendency to be protective.

Ohhhh, nice tactics switch just now. They’ve started stroking my ego to see if that will make me less wary and more open to giving them information. Like I’d give someone personal information or the names of other peoples’ characters. Where I started off online, it’s a huge no-no to ever reveal someone’s alternate identities without permission.

The fun part so far is that in the course of dancing this dance, they’ve revealed far more to me in the way of personal information and information about their friends than they’ve even tried to get out of me about me and my friends. I have names and cities of residence for them and friends, as well as alternate identities on PH for the same people, and they have information about how many webpages I hit while doing research work on what went into ancient Greek marriage customs.

These people have obviously never met a Merc or Anarch before.

You are a dominating person. People don’t stand in your way. Everybody basically does what you say. And if they don’t, they better start, or you just might have one of your henchmen kill them.

Just like “When the Levee Breaks” dominates Led Zeppelin IV, you dominate your world. You don’t have time for nonsense (it’s surprising you even took this quiz) and you would love to be dictator of the world someday.

You are dark and scary, and you probably don’t at all care about this quiz, if you even bothered to read your results.

Take the Which Led Zeppelin Song Are You? Quiz

The first time I wrote this story, I wrote it on the heels of the dream that inspired it.

I didn’t write this story. It wrote itself. I was just along for the ride. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I wrote the whole thing, beginning to end, in about two days. Another day saw the editing done, and one more for rewriting. I put it aside for a couple days, then came back to it to look it over one more time. I tweaked a couple more things, and then it was done. It was as good as I was going to get it at the time. And I still remember it as the best thing I’ve ever written.

I’m trying to reconstruct it now. The concept that started it is still firmly in my head. I still think it’s a good concept for a story.

It’s much darker this time around. And it’s taking much longer. Maybe because the inspiration for it was so long ago now. I wrote this story six or so years ago, originally. I’ve changed and my writing style has changed since then. Maybe not much, but it has. So the differences don’t surprise me.

I somehow wasn’t expecting to run into a point where it’s a struggle, though. But I have. I’ve spent the last couple days staring at the page where I left off last, and trying to move onward. I seem to have lost momentum on it, though. I seem to have lost momentum for writing in general right now, other than rambling in this journal. When I haven’t been able to move forward with the story, I try instead to write posts for one of the Pan Historia novels. I get maybe two sentences into it and run into the same wall.

Well, no one ever claimed this was easy. Back to wrestling with words.

“Under Three Suns” part three went up last night over at PH.

I’m in awe. Parts of it, large parts of it, were read to me about a week ago. And the story still got me.

To quote a friend, “How does that bitch do that? It’s like the whole is greater than the parts.”

I know I’m biased… but I’d be in awe even if I wasn’t, I think.

*shakes head*

We have one professional writer over on Intrepid. Someone who earns his keep by regularly publishing sci-fi. And UTS is as good as or better than anything I’ve seen our pro write.

I am so out of my league, trying to keep up with these people. But the only way to keep getting any better is to keep writing, and to read what other people wrote. Much as I sometimes read this stuff and get intimidated by the idea of writing with them, I know that I need to keep writing with them.

I was going to go to bed right after posting that last post an hour ago.

I’ve been too happy to feel tired, and lost all track of time looking back over tonight in my mind’s eye.

I’m going to pay for this when my alarm goes off in five hours.

Off to attempt sleep!

Of course, I’m still very bouncy and happy from seeing Sylvan, so sleep may be very difficult to come by.

But it’s WORTH IT!!!!!

A little while ago, while I was talking on the phone with Sylvan, he told me he was sending a surprise back with Joyce for me. He knew how upset and unhappy I’ve been lately, and he said he thought this surprise would be a big help.

I talked to him again before I left for work. Joyce was going to be at the Thursday night kareoke, which I never go to. I said I’d have to give it a miss, and hope to connect with Joyce some other time to get whatever it was that Sylvan was sending. After all, I work nights. And most people I know work days, so I figured that everyone would be packing up and heading home or already gone before I was even off shift. Since I’d said that I wouldn’t be there, Sylvan called me just as I was about to head for work, and he told me that I had to be there. My surprise was time-sensitive. I finally agreed to do my best to be there.

The night lead, my friend Sara, was having problems with her boyfriend and didn’t really feel like she wanted to go home. I invited her to the bar tonight, and after considering it for a while, she decided that she’d go too. I figured she’d like my circle of friends, and my friends her.

So, when work was finally done, we piled into her car and headed for Creekside Inn.

And there was my surprise. Sylvan was right, it helped. It helped so much, that I was very nearly crying tears of joy when I saw what my surprise was. What everyone’s surprise was, really. I was considering being sly about it, and see if I could convince the “surprise” to show up at First American before 9PM Friday night. You see, Figbash was too exhausted to go to the Creekside Inn after work. She said that if Sylvan had a surprise for her, and she didn’t think that he would, to see if I could bring it to work on Friday. When I first got home, I thought about talking in vague terms what the surprise was, and how perfect a gift it was, and how happy I was from the moment I saw it.

Because the surprise, of course, was Sylvan himself, down from Seattle for a surprise visit.

I was going to try and get him to show up at First American without letting on to Figbash ahead of time, but seeing as how Dreamy already announced in her journal that Sylvan was at kareoke night, the cover’s already blown on that joke.

So, yeah, Figbash, the time-sensitive surprise waiting for all of us at the Creekside was Sylvan. Wish you hadn’t been so exhausted, I think you’d have enjoyed seeing him too! But he’s here for a few days. Maybe we can arrange for you to get to see him before he leaves.

All the rage and unhappiness I’ve been feeling, gone in one sweep.

After kareoke, Sylvan and I went out to get dinner and talk for a while, and then I gave him a lift back to Joyce’s place. I can’t begin to describe how much I adored spending time with Sylvan again. Seems like no matter how upset I may be, if Sylvan’s there I feel 1000% better. Even if it doesn’t look like it from the outside, I do.

After I dropped him off, I took the long drive back. I didn’t bother hitting the highway, I just drove along El Camino. A longer trip, of course, but I wasn’t ready for the evening to be over. It’s not every day that your best friend of the last 15 or so years suddenly pops up after a long separation.

While I was driving home, I was singing. Something I often do with alone time in the car, rather than listen to a tape or the radio. But this time, I couldn’t keep singing. I was so happy from seeing my Sylvan that I’d just have to laugh from sheer joy, or would start getting all teary-eyed from happiness. So I wound up interrupting every song I tried to sing, and then laughing at myself for having interrupted myself by laughing.

I’m going to go wash the makeup I put on today, in honor of going out someplace even before I knew what was going on. That way, the next time another flood of happy tears hits, I don’t have to fight them off in order to avoid raccoon eyes and the lovely sting of eyeshadow making far too close an acquaintance with my eyes. Because I know that I’m not done glowing over seeing Sylvan again.

Oh, and Locke… even though it wouldn’t mean spending the night, can we switch our dinner to Sunday night? Sylvan would love to see you, and he’s spoken for on Saturday… but if you can make it a Sunday dinner, then he can join us!

Oh, I’m SO HAPPY that I got to see my wonderful silly Sylvan! *dances around the room*