Well, Facebook is switching to timeline, soon, and I figured I'd get ahead of the curve and finally update it. Seeing how I spent waaaay too long on this avatar, I figure it's only proper that I post it as an art on my blog. I also ended up using a picture that I drew a few years ago-- I want to say around 2005. I was working on a project then that featured a planet called Tomalar, and this was my concept art of it. I was a lot more detailed in my concept art back then, even if I wasn't as good at drawing as I am today. The project itself ended up getting put on the half-finished half-fleshed-out pile. That, however, is another story. |  |
 | ....And of course, bringing THAT up reminds me of the whole project. Dang. Ever have one of those stories that's just been changed so many times, and had so many details added in, that it's hard to tell what shape you started with in the first place? It's like putting on a nice dress, and then adding a TON of jewelry, doing your hair, clipping a zillion barrettes on it, spraying yourself with body glitter, and wearing the boldest makeup you can think of.... then taking it all off and doing it again. I suffered from a horrible case of world-builder syndrome on that project. Everything needed detail, detail, and more detail. Everything needed a background. It was like trying to mash the whole "Star Wars" expanded universe into one movie. There were sooo many different incarnations of that story.. I haven't even worked on it for years. |
Now I'm getting nostalgic. Damn it. Here's another piece of concept art. This is Starlight on a hidden platform of Flyre Planet. None of that makes sense, but eh, maybe it will if I ever get around to rescuing the story someday. |  |
What did I come in here for again..........? Oh yeah, that's right, Miss O'Brian's Library. Heh. While she's talking to ghosts of people, I guess I'm talking to the ghosts of plots, in a way. There's a joke in there somewhere.
Miss O'Brian's Library Chapter 2
Tracy's first day started bright and early... for Evelynne. It was Ten O'Clock, and Miss O'Brian was busy organizing things in preparation for the lady she'd hired to help organize things. Don't look at me like that. It made sense in her mind. She really was a neat freak at heart, but study and rest trumped cleaning on her priority list.
Today, though, she made sure the library was the cleanest little mess in the world. The whole place had been dusted from top to bottom, and any books left lying about were carefully tossed into the rolling wire baskets at the end of each row. She tested each of the ladders, climbing up and down them, and rocking back and forth on the top. The sturdy ones were placed in a nice little line in the corner, and the creaky, untrustworthy ones went into the dark little storage closet. The storage closet... would wait until later. The thick braided rugs that covered the dinged up hardwood floor were smoothed out and straightened. All the windows were cleaned with rubbing-alcohol.... and then opened so that the library wouldn't smell like rubbing alcohol.
She tackled her desk next. It was a big, solid, oak desk that had been lovingly custom made by a skilled carpenter. The shape was like a giant octagon with a side missing, and the middle hollowed out, so that it was really like seven desks. The first three sections on the left had tall cabinets arching over the writing surface. The next section had a platform that could raise and tilt at an angle like a drafting table. The next had a rack that was perpetually covered with papers, and the next a computer and a bucket full of flash-drives. The last section had a thick, embroidered pillow lying on top.
Evelynne plucked up the pillow, and tucked it under her arm with the blanket that she'd taken from the top of the chair. She climbed the ladder to the loft in her office (Which creaked, by the way, but she didn't bother to replace it. Tracy can't sue her for falling off a ladder she doesn't climb...), and threw the bedding in a drawer. Before heading down, she paused, and went back to intentionally muss the blankets on her bed up there to make it look like she actually slept in it.
She looked in the vanity mirror beside her bed one more time. Her hair had been brushed smooth, and neatly tied back in a thick french braid that she was particularly proud of. (Have you ever tried to french braid your own hair? It's hard.) Her thin, draping blouse tucked into a knee-length belted skirt in a rough, warm fabric that matched her warm blazer. Her light scarf was wound attractively around her neck under her blazer. The pinkish tones of her makeup perfectly matched the autumn colors of the rest of her ensemble, even if they didn't quite hide the crow's feet and other lines from lack of sleep that had started to make their presence a little more obvious lately. Hmmh. Ahh well. We can't all be fresh daisies anymore.
It was right about then when she heard the bells on the front door jangling, as it swung open. Evelynne flew down the ladder in two leaps like a ten-year-old bounding down from a jungle-gym. Her chunky boot heels THUNKED on the wooden floor like a sledgehammer when she landed, and clunked in a steady beat as she dashed into the other room. CREEAK went the table, as she pulled it down from its panel on the wall, like a cupboard that opens side-ways and locks into place. She was just in time to set two steaming cups of tea on the table as Tracy entered the room.
"Hello there, Tracy." Evelynne said, trying not to sound like she just ran a marathon, "Pardon the mess."
Tracy's first day started bright and early... for Evelynne. It was Ten O'Clock, and Miss O'Brian was busy organizing things in preparation for the lady she'd hired to help organize things. Don't look at me like that. It made sense in her mind. She really was a neat freak at heart, but study and rest trumped cleaning on her priority list.
Today, though, she made sure the library was the cleanest little mess in the world. The whole place had been dusted from top to bottom, and any books left lying about were carefully tossed into the rolling wire baskets at the end of each row. She tested each of the ladders, climbing up and down them, and rocking back and forth on the top. The sturdy ones were placed in a nice little line in the corner, and the creaky, untrustworthy ones went into the dark little storage closet. The storage closet... would wait until later. The thick braided rugs that covered the dinged up hardwood floor were smoothed out and straightened. All the windows were cleaned with rubbing-alcohol.... and then opened so that the library wouldn't smell like rubbing alcohol.
She tackled her desk next. It was a big, solid, oak desk that had been lovingly custom made by a skilled carpenter. The shape was like a giant octagon with a side missing, and the middle hollowed out, so that it was really like seven desks. The first three sections on the left had tall cabinets arching over the writing surface. The next section had a platform that could raise and tilt at an angle like a drafting table. The next had a rack that was perpetually covered with papers, and the next a computer and a bucket full of flash-drives. The last section had a thick, embroidered pillow lying on top.
Evelynne plucked up the pillow, and tucked it under her arm with the blanket that she'd taken from the top of the chair. She climbed the ladder to the loft in her office (Which creaked, by the way, but she didn't bother to replace it. Tracy can't sue her for falling off a ladder she doesn't climb...), and threw the bedding in a drawer. Before heading down, she paused, and went back to intentionally muss the blankets on her bed up there to make it look like she actually slept in it.
She looked in the vanity mirror beside her bed one more time. Her hair had been brushed smooth, and neatly tied back in a thick french braid that she was particularly proud of. (Have you ever tried to french braid your own hair? It's hard.) Her thin, draping blouse tucked into a knee-length belted skirt in a rough, warm fabric that matched her warm blazer. Her light scarf was wound attractively around her neck under her blazer. The pinkish tones of her makeup perfectly matched the autumn colors of the rest of her ensemble, even if they didn't quite hide the crow's feet and other lines from lack of sleep that had started to make their presence a little more obvious lately. Hmmh. Ahh well. We can't all be fresh daisies anymore.
It was right about then when she heard the bells on the front door jangling, as it swung open. Evelynne flew down the ladder in two leaps like a ten-year-old bounding down from a jungle-gym. Her chunky boot heels THUNKED on the wooden floor like a sledgehammer when she landed, and clunked in a steady beat as she dashed into the other room. CREEAK went the table, as she pulled it down from its panel on the wall, like a cupboard that opens side-ways and locks into place. She was just in time to set two steaming cups of tea on the table as Tracy entered the room.
"Hello there, Tracy." Evelynne said, trying not to sound like she just ran a marathon, "Pardon the mess."
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