(no subject)

one of the great things about digging into a story about a Catholic character is that I get to ask all my culturally Catholic friends shit like "what saint did you pick for Confirmation" and get answers back ranging from "uh, I didn't bother getting Confirmed: gross" all the way up to "oh yeah I had two saints: Joan of Arc, and of course John Chrysotom."

Most of my friends aren't currently practicing, of course, and I'm certainly not, but at the same time, it's--comfortingly familiar, let us say. It's a comfortable discomfort.

And there's the vicious glee from knowing that teenage me totally picked one of the queer saints purely by accident. That's pretty good, too.

(no subject)

me: okay self, I will carefully plan to spend two hours this morning looking at my ongoing manuscript and making lists of what it needs, what I know, what I don't know, and what I need help with.

also me: what if we spent two hours editing the ebook we're making ourselves from a scan of a library book instead?

augh