Well, that was�

I�ve talked about how parties aren�t my thing before, and how sometimes I�m in an anti-social mood but feel obliged to attend a party because I�ve put so much work into a costume. Last night was not one of those nights. Instead, I got there, and� well� the energy at the party was� odd. A bit� stagnant, actually.

I think everyone was slightly off. It certainly won�t stand out in my memory as one of the greatest parties I was ever at. Ceri looked fantastic, and our husbands looked fantastic, and there were a couple of really, really amazing costumes there (pictures forthcoming). Our hosts were in a terrific mood. It just didn�t feel very social; there was no real pull to circulate. My costume was comfortable, and received one or two compliments, but all in all, I don�t think I�ve chalked up enough enjoyment to pay off the hours put into it just yet. Thank goodness there�s another party next week. Yes, yes, I know I�ve stated that the reward of the time and energy invested is in the satisfaction of the final creation� I�d just like to enjoy the time spent wearing that creation to the best of my ability, as well.

Interesting fact: I received more compliments on a Star Trek TOS uniform I made and wore about seven years ago at last night’s party than compliments for the costume I was actually wearing. These retroactive compliments were inspired by a whole contingent of Trek-uniformed persons walking in (including my ex-finac�s current fianc�e, in the exact same costume I had made lo these many years ago… and I can say with all confidence that I looked much, much better.) It was highly ironic. (Yes, yes, I have on my list of things to do the creation of a costume gallery page; we actually found the scanner last night.)

There was some stimulating conversation at last night�s party, though:

Ceri: I married Destiny.

Autumn: That�s a horrible concept, to be married to Fate itself!

Ceri: Okay, I married my Destiny.

Autumn: Well, that�s all right then.

Ceri: You, on the other hand, married an ARCHETYPE!

Guilty as charged. My husband is Santa Claus, Destruction (of Neil Gaiman�s the Endless), Herne, and a bunch of other abstract-like entities. All in one.

I met a couple of other NaNoWriMo participants, and it has been generally decided that we should meet regularly down at the pub to discuss our progress throughout November, which makes us Drinkers With a Writing Problem. I woke up this morning and realised that in five days, my life belongs to November and a novel. Maybe it was chatting with Dez last night about plot and divine inspiration, but when I opened my eyes this morning all of a sudden I knew that a road trip was part of my story, It certainly wasn�t beforehand. My plot has now undergone mutation twice, both unintentional, and no matter how hard I try to force it back to the original nice safe tame storyline, it doesn�t work. (Warning: when going toe to toe with a Muse, the Muse will usually be triumphant, and you a bloody pulp on the floor.) I have no idea how I�m supposed to work a road trip into the general outline; it does not fit. At all. But there has to be one.