Waiting for it to sink in Thursday, October 30, 2008, 7:45 PM Something finally clicked in my head today and two characters have been revealing themselves to me. They're still ghost-like in my mind, but they interest me enough that I want to give NaNoWriMo a chance. I'm a little bit excited (mostly scared, though), but then I usually am when I start something. Now I just have to keep fanning the flames of what could grow into an obsession--because that's what it needs to be, otherwise I won't finish. I'm totally going to fly by the seat of my pants and let the characters reveal the story as I write it. Fun is the modus operandi. I'm not even going to worry about straining my brain over plotting. Nope, not going to. Been there, failed at that. I'm setting myself the lofty goal of 500 words a day. I can write at least 500 words a day. It's going to be a Young Adult romance. Well, maybe, because I don't know anything about teenagers today. Who knows what it will be at the end of it? Anyway, I'm aiming for beautiful writerly things: suspense, tension, danger and love, written as honestly as I can in my voice. It'll be interesting because I haven't written a story in first person point of view since I was a teenager. I'm just going to keep repeating that I'm writing this for myself until it sinks in. Labels: NaNoWriMo  
Engage in Unhingenosity
When ignorance was bliss I can't believe I used to write stories on college-ruled notebook paper. I'd go at it for hours, too--each page I wrote had to be perfect--I wouldn't accept crossed out paragraphs or spaces when erasing made a hole in the page. It messed with my writer's Joie de vivre, dammit. I never had to pee, eat or stretch while writing back then, either. Ah, the good ole days. I wrote a lot of crap, but I wrote and wrote and wrote, joyfully unfettered by an internal editor. I didn't even know what an IE was. Didn't care, either, because I was having fun feeling like God and all. definitely a case of ignorance and blissNow, if only I could recapture that period of writing, that time and space of mind when I wrote purely for the love of it...when I allowed my brain and my imagination free reign.
Engage in Unhingenosity
No more Rice Krispies It's the latest installment of you've GOT to be kidding me. Actually, I have more than one, so I'll settle for the most inconvenient of them: I can't surf the Internet at work anymore. Somehow, some way, I've downloaded viruses onto my computer and I have no idea how it happened. It's not like I play games, visit porn sites, or download information from unknown sources. But obviously something slipped through the cracks and now I'm afraid to even check my email. I figure this could be a good thing in the long run, once I get over the habit...the need...the damned inconvenient obsession...to surf. Things happen for a reason, right? But meanwhile, a habit is hard to friggen break. Why, that'd be a cool movie I've been waiting somewhat patiently for Jean Auel's sixth (and final) book of her Earth's Children series. It's been six years since the release of The Shelters of Stone and I am aching to get back to Ayla's struggle with and acceptance of the Spirit World. Will she ever learn what became of her Clan son, Durc? How will the series end? Every time I re-read the series, I feel the same unanswered questions prick me in the ass. I wonder and I dream. What the frick is going to happen next? Which is one of the best reasons for having an imagination, so I can't be 100% miffed. But I still think it'd be damn cool to make a movie of this series TODAY. The movie made in the 80s with Daryl Hannah didn't even the scratch the surface of the first book's complexity. And if there are going to be movies made of American Pie 105, or Freddie Krueger the 8th, or spoofs like Super High Me, why can't they spend money on a remake of a worthy project like Clan Of The Cave Bear? Ayla's life could demonstrate years worth of real survival and courage to the likes of Spears, Locklear and Andi any effin day. Twilight Slammers This is a difficult one to admit to, even to discuss, because from what I've seen online, people seem to be in one of two camps and I'm in neither. Either you're in the well-written, nose-snubber camp and can list five reasons off the top of your head about why Edward Cullen is more of stalker than a lover, and Bella Swan is just a sexually-repressed social outcast; or you're in the rabid OME teenager's camp, more concerned about protecting the main star's online images and making youtube vids of your [hilariously] idiotic reactions to the movie trailers. And obviously I've spent a minute too many concerning myself with either camp. I don't want to generalize, but the bitching and moaning (and here, moaning is good) over the book and the movie is ruining my fun. That is all. Greetings, Earthling No firm commitment yet about NaNoWriMo (I can't even make myself do the things I NEED to do). I'm sorry for the radio silence and the slow-down of comments on other blogs, but my brain has been captured and my energy ripped away. Someone ate the last of my Rice Krispies the other day, and left an empty carton of milk in the fridge. Please send ET with a one-way ticket. Labels: Earth's Children, Jean Auel, The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Twilight
Engage in Unhingenosity
Powered by 23 kicks Unisom helped me get my Zsss last night, but I still woke up more often than I wanted. Where’s Mr. Sandman, anyway? Doesn’t he take care of people who have bad backs, too? I pulled a muscle while blow drying my hair last Friday morning and life hasn't been the same since. That’ll teach me to blow dry my hair, I guess. What I really need to do is start the stretching and working out routine again. I always want to, except for when I don’t, which is most of the time. I’m alternating between fear, excitement and oh, hell no-isms about participating in NaNoWriMo this year. I have no illusions that I’ll be dragging my feet about sitting down at the computer after I get home from work (where I, uh, stare at a computer monitor all day). Horror of horrors, my backspace key is broken, too. Until it broke, I never knew how often I used that key (way too often). As punishment for being a backspace key-abuser, I will not allow myself a new keyboard until I do something good. Like purging my closet—if I do this, it will be one of Andi’s Major Accomplishments and will definitely—at least—be worth a new computer keyboard. I have the worst time getting rid of anything. I can and have hemmed and hawed about tossing stuff like the pair of green sweats with the hole in them. I like how those sweats fit. I’m also afraid to pitch anything with the words Indiana or Purdue written on them because I come from Indiana, but I’m living in California and it would seem, I don’t know, sacrilegious. No matter how ugly I feel inside and think I look on the outside, people still like me as long as I have a good attitude. But it’s hard to keep a good attitude when I feel fugly inside and out. It’s really, really hard. I have felt so butt dog ugly lately and it doesn't help that I live in Hollywood. It's hard not to take a hit on my self-esteem even when I feel I look my bestest. Yeah, I need to move. I'm working on it. Last Wednesday, I ate some popcorn and guess what? I still have a popcorn kernel stuck behind my front tooth. In fact, I should be trying to work that sucker loose right now instead of typing this blog entry. I think I’ll go try (for the hundreth time).
Engage in Unhingenosity
To NaNo or not to NaNo I don't know. The idea of trying again keeps popping in my head. If I tried, I'd have to crawl out from under my blanket of negativity. Lord, I hate the tone of this post already and it's only the second paragraph. I'm trying to wing it, to write what I feel, but I feel blocked. As soon as I get a thought, I lose it. Can't friggen concentrate. Hah! I've already rewritten this post a couple of times. So there's that part of me, the part that is so good at sabotaging and insulting me. Why do I have to be so good at that? Why can't I be good at the optimistic, go get 'em, tiger thing? Who's in charge of this stuff, anyway? Oh, right. Me. I'm working up to the idea of NaNoWriMo. I'm trying to get over the urge to gag at being positive and pro-active. And yes, I know the word trying isn't a good one when it comes to this--either I do or I will. I can write crap. But will I write crap? It'll be another thing I have to do. Another thing for my list.
But I am. Thinking about it. Obviously, I need to let go.
Engage in Unhingenosity
Randomosity, part the Zillionith Still Loving You by The Scorpions I was a naive 13-year-old when this song came out in 1984, but I heard it and was absolutely enthralled. I feel the same way today. Now, in fact. Wow. The feeling of aghast-ish-ment There's really no better word to describe what I feel when I hear someone verbally slams someone else, even if it's done in a no-harm-meant manner. I'm jealous because some people can get away with these kind of remarks [in the work place, even!] without visible enmity. Without repercussions. Without losing popularity or I-like-ya, I-really-like-ya points. How can you comment on weight and eating habits about someone who is obviously overweight without repercussion? How can you slam-bam someone's loud-mouthed, insensitive comments without ending up on a hit list (even if the loud-mouthed, insensitive comment-maker needs to be put in her place)? I don't know, but what I do know is that I seem doomed to wear the hat of empathy and I hate it. That hat is bulky, unattractive as hell, and makes my head itch. Does it do any good to imagine another's pain if I don't do anything about it? All it's seemed to be so far is a damned inconvenience. Introvert pretending to be an Extrovert Is there a law against this? Should I feel badly when my introvert tendencies fall way short of an extrovert's? (Can't I just be one or the other without feeling guilty?) The Joy of writing I saw this entry title on one of the blogs I subscribe to and snorted in disgust. Then I immediately felt ashamed of myself because I know the power of what writing can do, how cathartic writing can be once I force myself to it, and (er, um, hell) what a joy it can be. That told me, right on the heels of me gagging, that I am hiding. That I am being a total weenie and hiding from my innermost thoughts. In writing my thoughts down--even if I'm not doing it as an exercise--I will eventually find the release I'm seeking and need, although I would never call it a joy. In that instance, it's more an act of forcing myself to barf, or taking a diuretic pill. Sekret Service! The building where I work was swept by the Secret Service today. Senator Joe Biden is talking thisclose to where I walk daily right now. Just, you know, in case it matters. Posterity. And an I was almost there kind of thing.
Engage in Unhingenosity
Three years ago today A sheepdog in a poodle's disguise It was raining this morning on the way to the bus stop. Not a big deal if you're in a car, but it's a pain in the butt if you have to carry a purse, a lunch sack and an umbrella. Well, I always wondered how it was going to go when I had to walk to the bus during a pouring rain. Now I know: awkward, yet amusing. And a bus door is wide enough to fit an open umbrella through, so it's not all bad. But I closed my umbrella while I was in the process of going up the bus steps because it's bad luck to have an umbrella open inside a house, and maybe the same thing is true about a bus. It has a ceiling. So I got to work feeling damp and sticky. I was having a dog day and it wasn't even 8:00 yet. And in walks one of my co-workers who says, "Look at you with your curly hair, don't you look cute." I might have felt like a frizzy sheepdog on the inside, but outside, I must have looked like a poodle.
Engage in Unhingenosity
Putting the happy back in my life I posted this last night, then pulled it this morning. Then I decided to post it again because what the hell? Nobody can condemn me for being who I am, or what I do, more than I can and do. So, um, I think it's auspicious that the post I saved as a DRAFT on Frustration is gone, gone, gone. It was phew-stinky and maudlin and made my shoulders slump when I wrote it. When I read back over it and thought about posting it, I shook my head and saved it as a DRAFT to be posted in the year 2020 or something. Where did it go? Should I add it to my list and obsess over its absence? Crap. Crap. Crap. Fine! Over the past few months, I have done the following: ! Weaned myself off of anti-depressants This was a hard one. I am here to tell you that yes, you CAN feel a difference. I am quicker to anger. I am woefully and inconveniently prone to tears over the dumbest things. I am again jumping in terror at bugs crawling across my desk. It's all in my imagination. My idiot imagination. Oops, that's counter-productive. Fuck! See? Anger. But I don't feel the anti-depressants are necessary because I did not address the issues while I was on the medication. (Call them issues, not problems, it's ever so much more uplifting.) So the medication helped to dull paranoia, anger and funkism, but didn't motivate me to deal with whatever was causing those things. Which I'm sure is a character flaw, and my resistance to anything that involves soul searchism. Somebody pass me a Twix. A Twix candy bar will keep me chewing and chewing...and make me forget what upset me so much that I felt I had to say something. A Twix candy bar will stop me. Who can talk with chocolately caramel exerting its natural gravitational pull? I can't talk if I can't separate my molars. Better get yourself together, darlin'. Join the human race. Pretty soon you're going to be dead. :-( I ate lots of cheese Cheese is good with wine. I like cheese. So much so that I regained the 20 pounds I'd lost. Who created cheese anyway, dammit? I don't think I'd mind wrapping my fingers around the neck of the person who created edible mold. ! Cut down on alcohol I don't really want to talk about this one. It smacks too heavily of the advice I used to give my sister, in that I used to tell her to avoid alcohol when she was depressed because alcohol makes things seem even worse. Alcohol is a depressant. Effing ahem. So if I haven't been writing lately, these are a few reasons why. I've written blog entries, but didn't like the end results. I feel like I should be enjoying freedom and barfing rainbow-colored optimism, but I can't help wanting to draw close my defenses, one of which is silence. Which does no damned good for anyone. Another is laughter and could maybe do some good, as long as I take the time to post. So when I don't post, I'm grateful when the rest of you do. Meanwhile, I'm trying to put the happy back in my life. It's an uneasy, bumpy journey. Long. Uneven. I'm at the top of the crest, then I'm gone because I've sunk into one of those unexpected friggen-fargen dips I didn't see ahead of me. Yeah. It is what it is. I wish I knew the secret to accepting exactly who I am. I wish I knew how to forgive myself for life not turning out the way I expected it would. And I wish all these insights would burst upon me now, 'cause life would be so much easier to face then.
Engage in Unhingenosity
Twilight: The Movie There. I said it. I am a HUGE Twilight fan based on Stephanie Meyers' books. They're so good, they made a movie! My heart's going pitta-patta over the [final] movie trailer (there have been two others) because no matter what age a romantic girl's heart is, she's going to eat this story up. I know I will. Er, am. |
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