Konträres Mädchen, Fille Contraire

Here We Go Again

2010-12-28T11:05:00.000-08:00

For years, I have joined up on the Discovery site, enthused and excited about the possibilities of the new year, and wanting to start getting in shape before the warmer weather came. It always seemed to happen, though - I would peter out somewhere in the second week, being distracted by something or other, promising myself faithfully that I would catch up... I would allow myself this one cheat, and then work hard during the next few days to "erase" the calories or whatever. Never happened, of course. One cheat led to another and another, and by the fifth week I would have thrown my hands in the air in disgust at myself and quit. (With faithful promises again to myself that the next year would be different.)

This past year has seen me move by necessity halfway across the country, away from my beloved beaches and Los Angeles treks, and to the Midwest. Clinical depression has really caught up with me. The lack of pedestrian-friendly ANYTHING helped me gain thirty pounds within the first six weeks in February-March. I've shed a few, gained them back, shed again, gained them back. I've topped the scale with the heaviest I have been in my life only recently: 235.6 pounds. I have no energy, which the depression is adding its power behind. Most of my clothes don't fit, and I don't have the money to purchase new ones.

I have to lose weight to wear most of the clothes I have. I have to lose weight so I can stop huffing and puffing after just taking the laundry down to the laundry room. I have to lose weight so I can reach things, and fit into smaller spaces (which used to be absolutely no problem for me). I have to lose weight for my own confidence, and to help battle this lethargic numbness that is the depression. I have to lose weight so I feel as though I can walk into job interviews and wow the people.

Hopefully it will work this time. Hopefully, I won't go "oooh, shiny!" and wander off, because if I keep this up, I won't be able to move enough to wander off again.

Here's to raw determination that doesn't get stewed.

NaNoWriMo Things

2010-10-18T10:39:00.000-07:00

There is always that waiting waiting waiting feeling before the month of November kicks off. And during that time, there is only so much prep you can do for your novel before you start feeling burned out, or the temptation to write "just a little bit... it won't hurt anyone and no one will know if I already have a couple chapters..." hits. Just another week and a half, and you don't really want to start writing something else during this time, either. (Well, at least I never do. Your mileage may vary.)

This is my fiscally dangerous part of the year. Why? Because now I want to prep with goodies from the NaNo store online! This year I want the Camp NaNoWriMo tee-shirt, and both of the hoodies (because you can never have enough hoodies!), and the key chain, the deconstructed logo carry-all bag, the coffee mug (both the diner version and the travel mug)... ohhh, I am so very bad about all of that. And of course, don't forget the winner tee shirt from last year.

Out of curiosity, I have added all of this stuff up. If I went for everything, it would be $177.00 plus another $20.20 for shipping and handling. Yikes! I did note, however, that they are out of my normal size for the winner shirts for last year. If I am going to get one, I should get one now, and in one size smaller. I guess it's a good thing that I am working very seriously on losing weight! This can be like a pre-prize for myself on that goal.

I know I was talking about the site www.750words.com yesterday, and I still love the stuffins out of it. There only seems to be one real problem every once in awhile: the site slows down to the point you have problems logging in, or if you are logged in, you can't get to your writing page - or any page other than the one you're already on. I will need to leave to go to work soon, and I really wanted to write before I left. Here's crossing my fingers that it will be up and running soon!

Speaking of going to work, I need to get off my duff and go start some laundry. Writing or no writing, daily chores still need to be done!

750words.com And Other Bits

2010-10-17T14:27:00.000-07:00

Thanks to a friend of mine on another blogging site, I have discovered this nifty little website called www.750words.com. It is based on the idea from The Artist's Way about writing three pages in a journal every morning. These "morning pages" are supposed to be sort of a brain dump of sorts, just you writing, unstructured, letting words flow out of your mind, through your fingers, and onto the paper... or in my usual case, into becoming on the laptop screen.

One of the things I love about the site, and don't go laughing here, is that they give you little badges for different achievements. Ohhh, don't go offering badges to someone who runs around World of Warcraft reading obscure books and eating odd things just to gain an achievement for the hell of it. You know I'll just be all over that site! So far, I have earned a turkey (writing 3 days in a row), a penguin (7 days in a row), a flamingo (10 days in a row), and a cheetah (speedy typist!).

What can I do with all these badges, you might ask? Well, nothing really. But a giggle or two over them, and a grin when I see a new one pop up is more than worth it to me.

NaNoWriMo is coming up in fifteen days. Do you have your plot bunnies well fed? Mine have decided to whisper in my ear as I sleep and give me dreams of the very vivid sort. This latest dream had me hanging out, talking with a couple guys who were working on a private plane. We were in the country somewhere; huge, leafy trees offering shade, and what looked like a boathouse-cum-shack with peeling white paint was very near. The sound of a couple small jets overhead cut though the nature noise, and we looked up, for some reason instinctively moving closer to the shelter of the plane to help hide our presence, although there was nothing we had done wrong. One of the guys made the comment that they were marking the perimeter, or doing something with the perimeter. This seemed to be enough of a reason for me to run up to the larger house for supplies. I don't know why we were going to run, and I don't know why the military (because that was who the jets seemed to be) were flying and dropping some sort of sonar markers along the lake shore, but it was apparently enough of a reason for the character I was to be alarmed.

In the larger house, a Native American man in his thirties was working, renovating a sunlit room. I greeted him, and tried to act as nonchalant as possible as I pocketed Band-Aids, Mercurochrome, and scoured the little medicine cabinet for whatever else I could sneak away with. He came in, though, alerted by the sounds of my scrounging, and asked me what in the world I was doing. Not in a threatening way at all, but for some reason the two guys at the plane and I were supposed to be a group unto ourselves. I turned, plastering a smile on my face that I was hoping looked a bit more genuine than it felt, and tried to play my antics off as just that - the nutty chick's silliness that everyone around was supposed to be used to.

I remember the sunlight streaming in through the glassless window in the other room, the room where he was working, and lighting the area behind him as he stood over me, and the motes of sawdust and tree fluff dancing erratically in the shafts of yellow gold. And I remember having the feeling of knowing him, and of his knowing me a lot better than either he or I would publicly admit.

And now, after writing all of this down, I have a funny feeling the basis of my NaNo novel has just been changed by the characters who inhabit that world. That's just fine with me... I have learned through the years not to fight them. They will take you where they want to be, and if you fight, you wind up with a story that doesn't come off nearly as well as you had hoped, or (and this is the more common result) you will find yourself with a half dozen or so partially written stories that have no life and no luster to them, and will never see the words "The End" to complete them.

NaNoWriMo 2010 And Other Bits Of Amusement

2010-09-07T08:00:00.000-07:00

It's cloudy out today, and on my day off! No, I can't be enraged about that, really. It's still too hot outside for my Southern California moods to long too much for the sun here in the Great Plains.

It's that time of year - NaNoWriMo fever is beginning in my soul again. I know it's still a little over a month and a half away, but every September it begins. What will I write this year? Will I be able to stick with it, or will mundane bits of life come again to take over my time and energy, sapping both from me and leaving me with 382 words written on November 29? I'm lucky in that the job I hold right now allows me to bring my laptop to work and mess around online, doing whatever, as long as the customers are taken care of.

I actually have a good idea of what I want to write for this year. No, I'm not telling, at least not yet. Last year, I wrote paranormal. I still have the sheets of paper printed out, begging for editing. I think it's been long enough since I wrote it to go back and go through it with a fresh eye and mind. I have two days off right now; maybe I will do that.

Blender, a 3D imaging program, has been played with a bit as well. It has one hell of a steep learning curve, especially for someone who gets confused with PhotoShop! But I am hoping to figure out the basics relatively quickly and see what I can get done in there for SecondLife.

At any rate, that is what is happening lately, or at least some of it.

Musing On Today... So Far!

2010-08-24T06:15:00.000-07:00

I woke this morning to the distant sound of thunder, and the pattering of raindrops on my bedroom window. It is a nice change from the feeling of being beaten with the heat of the sun's rays every day, but not so nice that I would wish for cloudy days most of the time.

I suppose I am in the mood to write today. I don't feel like writing about the Pan character, though... but I don't know what I do feel like writing about. I feel like messing with photos I have taken over the months, both in SecondLife and in the real world. My trial for Corel is over, and right now I don't have the $60.00 I need to buy the full license. I have GIMP. GimpShop, and MyPaint, but they aren't the same when it comes to really being able to fix little bits of things in a photograph.

There is a wonderful artist in SecondLife, with the avatar name of Jewell Lamourfou. Some of her texture packs are designed to be used with photos, and I am thinking of playing with some of them today... that is, if I decide to go that route.

I also still have a wonderful little (okay, not SO little) project in cross stitch I have been working on for that person people know as "the boyfriend". Not only is it great for me to finally have someone who doesn't think it's stupid for me to make things for him, and who doesn't see it as something only his grandmother would foist on him (and therefore, something he is forced to display somewhere in his home so it doesn't cause a family row), but it just simply makes me feel good as I stitch, because I am thinking of him while I make the project.

Yes, I know this is a disjointed post, and I apologize. The morning coffee has yet to really kick in, and I am listening to the aforementioned male on my headset in Skype right now, too. Visually, I am a multi-tasker. Throw something my way in audio and everything scatters to the winds!

Dreams

2010-08-12T08:02:00.000-07:00

I don't dream that often, or at least I don't remember them most of the time. When I do, they are likely to be a bit bizarre, and usually in full color... one of those "real" dreams, that leave you in an awake state wondering if it really happened.

The other morning I found myself still a bit sleepy, so I went back to bed for a little nap. One of those bizarre dreams began playing itself out in my mind, full-color, scents and touch and even the feel of the night time breeze. There was a character in the dream that, while he was only there for a few minutes, he stayed with me after I woke, even as the rest of the dream faded into memory.

By yesterday morning, I wanted to write a story, bringing him into it. I don't have a clue where the story will go, or what the reason is for him to be there, but it seemed urgent that I at least begin this. So I did.

Over the years, I have written quite a few short stories that came to me first in a dream. It seems to work well for me, and for that I am grateful. When I write, they seem to develop of their own accord, much like a dream does. I have to admit, I love being along for the ride in these things... It's like sitting back and watching a performance from my Theater of the Mind, to borrow a term a friend uses for hers. I am like my characters - I don't know what will happen next, and this means I can suggest choices for them from the same viewpoint they have. Sometimes they disagree, and if I have to fight to get them to do what I want, I know I am heading in the wrong direction. Just let them do their own thing, and the story unfolds in vivid reality, with me as the historian of events.

Of course, then I have all these other distractions, like blogging about writing when I really should be writing the story...

But procrastination is one of the things a writer excels at, right?

At Work

2010-07-17T02:56:00.000-07:00

Working the night shift isn't so bad, even on the weekends. Well, provided you don't really want to have a social life. If you like being left alone, it's pretty good for that.

Take me at this moment. I am sitting around, waiting for the breakfast lady to make an appearance in about thirty minutes. I stay for another hour and a half after that. Outside of actual work, one of my main causes of frustration has been the fact SecondLife keeps crashing on me all night. That, and I have got to pee. I don't want to go pee, though, not until Janessa comes. I know it is completely ridiculous, but I have got this horrible paranoia when I am in that bathroom: I keep watching the light under the door for shoes, or shadows of legs.

Freaking myself out right now as I type it!

It is silly, and I know this. It is something straight out of a 50s horror movie or old comic books. Still, you know... just in case.

Heat, History, And Ham Sandwiches

2010-07-14T07:20:00.000-07:00

If someone were to ask me, I would tell them that it should be simply wrong for the heat index to be 115*. Wrong, wrong, obscenely improper.

Of course, no one is asking me.

I have been trying to change the way I eat - trying to go for more healthy foods, more natural stuff. (You won't see me giving up my Splenda with fiber anytime soon, though.) It's really only been about four days, but I've noticed a slight but steady upswing in my energy. Hey, I like that! It's too soon to tell if I am really going to start losing weight this way, of course... but if I do, I am going to be crowing about it like mad.

There is a lot of fun involved. I have given myself carte blanche in the kitchen! I can start playing around with all sorts of recipes and things, as long as they are pretty healthy... or at least won't turn to plastic in my belly. Or sit there and, ummm, rot.

Disgusting thought.

The Art Appreciation course I am taking this summer is at its halfway point. There is a paper due tonight, and do you really think I have it done? Yeah, you know I don't. Of course, I could be writing it right now, like I should be doing... but instead, I am working on a blog post. Then I will probably clean the apartment some more, and maybe go do some laundry....

And not too long before it is past due, I will sit here at my desk, panic riding over me in waves, and I will wind up "NaNoing" yet another paper for class. I won't reread it; I will simply send it in as is.

Because that is how my insanity on this level works!

(Please... It's got to be insane when you consistently leave things like this to the last minute.)

Don't get me wrong: I love my classes, especially the history ones, which this one incorporates. I think I love the challenge and the adrenaline rush of being forced to surrender words upon words upon words, and make clear, concise sense out of them right at a deadline. I must admit, so far it has worked to my advantage. I have received A's on all but one, and that one got a high B. (These aren't the types requiring a bibliography, thank goodness. Those I do actually spend a long time on.)

The phone was just ringing, and it was probably my parents. They will want me to go get them something or other, I'm sure. Is this a good enough reason to end a post that is otherwise a bit dangly? You tell me.

Still Hot!

2010-06-18T10:58:00.000-07:00

The weather, that is... although I'm not feeling so shabby myself with a new, much shorter haircut. It used to be down near my waist, but the last cut I had was a razor cut, and if you don't keep those up meticulously, they begin looking shaggy, then raggedy, then just like you have a head full of split ends.

A wonderful stylist named Curtis over in Penn Square Mall (At MasterCuts, if anyone ventures near) fixed it all up. Nice, healthy, curling near the ends, bouncy (even though the humidity really tries to keep this from happening)... I am really very happy with it. And bonus? He waxed my eyebrows for another ten bucks. I know that's a usual service for a usual price. I've had it done before in California, and I love it. But Curtis was very methodical and did bits at a time, instead of slopping the wax over huge portions. Then he tweezed to make it perfect, checking the alignment and evenness and everything, and then put lotion on my skin afterward. I know all of that is probably what should go with the service, but it's the first time I've had it done.

So silly me, I am all happy from what I consider pampering the other day. And really glad for the hair falling to about the middle of my shoulder blades, because believe me, it is a lot cooler than it used to be!

If Wishes Were Horses...

2010-06-12T20:18:00.000-07:00

... I would have a horse and could gallop on over to Kansas City, MO, on my birthday to see Gogol Bordello. As I don't hear any neighing, I might have to pass on this. Though I really want to see them again, I can wait. I think they are playing down in Texas in the fall, and that's just an Amtrak ride away. (Plus I have friends in Texas.)

It is drippy, sticky hot here. So not used to this type of weather anymore! Sleep comes in small doses, and there's lots of water to be drunk. It's hard to believe I was freezing cold only a few months ago.

At any rate, I need to finish getting ready for work. Yahoo for the graveyard shift, right?

Long Time Past!

2010-06-07T08:43:00.000-07:00

Hi, guys!

In the time since I last posted, I have had to move from my beloved California back to Oklahoma City. I grew up here, and have left it twice already - once to move to New York, and once to California - and yet here I am again.

I came here because I thought it would be cheaper to live here, jobs would be easier to come by, and I could get back on my feet (and back out to California) in a relatively short amount of time. Let me tell you, that's not how it is at all. I do have a job now, finally, but one that pays minimum wage and is only part time. Considering a few years ago I was working more than 40 hours a week at times, and making enough to live comfortably without having to really count pennies in Los Angeles... Well, this is a huge step down.

I am also without wheels, which sucks here. Moreso than when in SoCal, believe me. I do have the use of my Dad's car, for which I am grateful, but it's not the same. And it looks like it will be at least a year, if not longer, before I will be able to buy my own.

BUT... I am managing. Most of my things (and I do mean most!) are in storage in California still. I had naively thought that after about three or four weeks here in OKC, I'd rent a car, drive to Long Beach, and get some of the things to bring back here. Unfortunately, all rental places in Oklahoma require you to have either a credit (not debit) card, or "credit-worthiness". My current score of 478 will not help me rent a car in this state. What does this mean, though? It just means I have less stuff to dust every week, and I have less stuff I will have to move back out there when *I* move back out there!

There is no Trader Joe's here, which sucks. Upside? I don't go on spending sprees at Joe's. There is, however, a Sephora, which means I can still get pretties when I want to give myself a treat. Even though I live in the middle of the largest city here, there is pretty much nothing around. There is, but very long walking distances. Upside to this? I can see great expanses of sky.

And my cat is enjoying chittering at all the birds just outside the apartment windows. :)

I Did It!

2009-12-01T10:21:00.000-08:00

Yes, indeed... and the over 8,000 words left were written yesterday. I completed (won) NaNoWriMo for this year and I am damned proud of myself, probably moreso than I really have a right to be.

It isn't completed yet, but I am planning on taking a few days off before I dive into it again. Then will come the second draft, then editing, then possibly a third draft... At any rate, I have most of this down on electronic paper, plus at least two more ideas simmering on the back burners.

Now if I can find a real job soon, that would be sweet.

Wrapping Up

2009-11-29T13:51:00.001-08:00

NaNoWriMo ends in about a day and a half... a little less than that, actually. I have 8,893 more words to go until I hit 50,000. So why am I not writing like the wind? Because I just went pffttthhhh a couple days ago. Just blah. No writing for days.

I will do it... I can get there and I will get there. Hell, I am writing right now, aren't I? I just drained my brain or something and could not for the life of me even see my characters.

I think I will make a pot of coffee and try to get to work. Even if I just do a few words here and there, it will help. I know part of it, too... I fear that if I start wrapping up the story, I will come to the end before I see 50,000. Which is utterly ridiculous as I can go back and write more if I need.

I also know that once I get it all down, I can arrange it in the right order (which it's not in at the moment), and then begin filling in the gaps, then do a slight rewrite before putting it away for a little while.

NaNoWriMo 2009

2009-11-15T11:45:00.000-08:00

I am doing it, and I am doing much better than I thought I might. Of course, I am knocking on that mental wood as I type this! An excerpt, the same as is on my NaNo profile... and what I will put up here for now:

Silence. It permeated everything it seemed, even though the crickets still called out their song and the wind still blew in the branches of the old trees. I waited for what seemed like an eternity for him to speak first, determined not to give up that quarter. And when it seemed as though he was not going to speak, that I must be the one to open my mouth and allow the words to somehow escape, tumbling out from behind my dried lips, I heard his voice, as clear as a bell, aiming straight for my mind and soul as though it had been precisely sent.

“Dangerous to be sitting out like this at night, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Okay… so there it was. The first words, and where were they going to take us? I shuffled my feet a bit on the pavement, waiting to see what he would say next, or whether or not I should be thinking of something witty to say, something that might knock this stranger off his feet with its intelligence and ---

“You don’t talk much, do you.”

It cut through my thoughts, this statement that was nothing like a question. I threw my head back, looking at him from down the bridge of my nose, able now to better make out his features than when I had been so far away.

“Nah, not so much. Only when prodded.”

“I would bet I could prod you.”

I laughed, my loud, ridiculous laugh, nervousness showing clearly through it at the innuendo he had just made. A smile danced upon his lips as he watched me fight to regain control of myself, a fight I won much sooner than I had expected.

Written In A Ten Minute Dash

2009-10-20T14:58:00.001-07:00

Eugene's voice played with my thoughts as I walked down the street. I was alone in my head, even as the buildings of downtown Los Angeles rose above me, everything filled with people. People-noise that I couldn't hear, people-smells that were sometimes good, sometimes sick, people-heat in varying degrees all around.

I passed up the Chinese-food-and-donut place, the colliding mix of spices and sweet breads a thick cloud hanging over a sidewalk dotted with black spots of bubblegum. Instead, the coffee shop on the corner pulled me in... the fine dust of newly-ground beans tickling my nose, and the more intense heat of people and pots kept bottled up in this glass house. I pulled one of the earbuds away from my head, shutting my MP3 player off, and silencing Eugene for a bit. A lull of jazz replaced the gypsy punk as a soundtrack, carried above the murmuring voices of people.

He was there. I froze... Over in the corner, as my face flushed a painful color and broken glass grated inside my chest. The universe must hear the roar of my blood, but I couldn't look away, for fear he would turn and see me if I did. The sun's light reflected from plate glass across the street to fill the shop with a colder, movie-set light. No, only his side. Mine remained in the regular world, not a part of his. He who was so brilliant, dark wheat hair backlit, and a small slick of spit upon his lower lip shining wetly, something to be devoured by a beautiful woman.

But no longer by me.

Three suited women jostled me as they came in the door. His dark eyes focused in their languid way on me as their movement caught his attention. I could not speak... could not think... I returned to my world, Eugene in my ear and mind, a gypsy running.

Almost Two Months Later, But It Was Worth It

2009-07-17T19:06:00.001-07:00

What am I talking about? Gogol Bordello. So Very Much Worth It. I felt alive, and scared, and happy, and crazy, and one in a mass of people... which at this time was wonderful.

Now it is midsummer. The evening breeze from the ocean began about an hour ago, but the heat still rises from the blacktop and radiates from the brickwork walls. I have done nothing these past few days... have left my apartment only to walk down the hall to get the mail, and once last night to take out the trash. I know it is bad. I know it is dangerous just to keep myself cooped up in a studio apartment with little mobility room. Just sitting here with my laptop, or watching DVDs of ER at night.

I don't speak to anyone face to face, and very rarely on the telephone. Only when I need to say something to checkers at the market, or a rare hello if someone passes by on one of my few trips outside. I guess it's like being entombed, in a way. And every day I am a little more afraid of people out there... a little more afraid that I cannot communicate correctly anymore (not that I was ever stellar to begin with). I am afraid of going to interviews and being found terribly lacking simply because I don't converse well vocally. Because I am fat. Because my clothes don't look wonderful on me.

As a result, I stay indoors more and more... shying away from the human contact I used to crave. Wishing on stars that I had a special someone in my life, but knowing I'm no Rapunzel. No prince is going to come down the alley to ask me to pull him into my rooms.

Someday, I will go back out, and I will again speak to people. And someday... yeah, "someday my prince will come", only I will be able to invite him through the front door. And then, almost two months after all of that has begun, I can look back on finally breaking out of my tomb and say to myself it was worth it.

Adventure, But Not In Hollywood This Time

2009-05-20T11:46:00.000-07:00

One of the reasonings I was pummeling myself with all week for NOT going to Nine Inch Nails tonight was this: I need new tires, especially a rear one, badly. Another reason was: I really need to get my brakes checked, because they aren't feeling quite right. Place these two items with driving 60 miles both ways tonight and again tomorrow night, and I was successfully talking myself out of seeing at least tonight's show, and quite possibly tomorrow night's as well, knowing me.

And while I have already seen Lord Trent, I would kick myself in the ass for the rest of my days for not seeing Gogol Bordello.

Anyone who has known me as New Wave Syd knows I will suddenly come up with really goofy solutions. (Okay, pretty well everyone knows this...) But regarding music, I will wind up finding all sorts of ways and means to get where I want to go, usually ending the night dozing off over my fifth cup of Denny's coffee while waiting for the trains or buses to run again. When faced with the prospect of spending New Year's Eve alone years ago, I instead rented a U-Haul truck and drove that monster over to Ernie's show. Way to arrive in style, I say!

So leave it to me to go online and make a U-Haul reservation for tonight and tomorrow night. No money yet, which is good... because then I looked over on Budget and nabbed some teeny tiny Hyundai thing for a total of $80 for both nights. U-Haul, with gas and per-mile charges, would have run me about $170 at least. No way, Jose.

And while I was making the reservation for Budget, I ticked the insurance thing, and then thought wait a minute... I called Geico and asked if *I* am insured, or just the vehicle I own, and learned *I* am what is actually insured, so any rental car I drive carries the same insurance I pay for each month. Yay! She saved me about $40 right there.

A bit over the top in expenses for me? Yes, sort of. But when you look at the $70 ticket for tonight, and the $40 ticket for tomorrow night, plus if something did happen to my car while driving all over the place for these? I would much rather play it safe and rent a car. (Hell, it pays for itself in a strange way just tonight!)

Nightmares

2009-05-06T10:37:00.000-07:00

Cross-posted in my LJ as well.

My sleep last night was full of nightmares and badly-weird dreams. In one, there was a government nuclear test, and they were going to set off three small test bombs near here. I don't know if it was in the ocean or in the desert, but it wasn't an underground thing. I could hear the announcing voice in the night, telling everyone to remain calm and head to the central part of your house. Use the special blankets and cover yourself in the bathtub. Do not attempt to open your eyes for ten minutes after the final explosion. (This seems to have come from my memories of Gary England's tornado warning announcements from childhood.) I grabbed my old blue blanket and pillows, and lay down in the tub, covering myself completely with the blanket. As the countdown began, Alanis jumped in the tub with me and I put the blanket over her, too telling her to keep her eyes closed. We curled up together and the first bomb went off. I could see the flash of light behind my eyelids. "There's one," I thought. Alanis had tensed and started to move, but I held her tightly and she stayed, still tense. The second one went off, and I was sort of wondering why they were doing this above ground.... it was as though no one (including myself) had thought about the consequences. I don't remember the third one going off, and know in my dream I was waiting, wondering if I had miscounted or what.

I woke suddenly, terrified because I knew at the moment of waking that those things were completely wrong. I tied calming myself, telling myself it was a bad dream and that was it. Nuclear, nuclear, what the hell made me dream that? I wondered. I hadn't been watching The Day After.... oh, but one of the scene segments in the first episode of Remington Steele I watched last night was called "Nuclear Love". Maybe that's where it came from.

I was gripped with more panic then, suddenly my brain counting months until my UI runs out. Okay, I only just got my third check, so there is no reason to go into panic mode, but I did. I calmed myself again, promising panicked insides that I will use up major bandwidth today in sending out my resume all over the place.

There was one, perhaps two, other dreams after that one, but now I don't remember them... just that they were unnerving as well. I was glad to get up this morning.

2009-05-01T13:17:00.000-07:00

Pressing

2009-04-28T02:21:00.000-07:00

I feel suspended in time, as though the world outside is rushing past me in a rivertumble heading towards the future, and I am left alone in my small apartment, only occasionally looking out the window to watch. I am detached, when going to the market or interacting as little as I do with others outside now. It will be a forced thing for me, pushing myself back out into the sunshine as I try to convince myself to remain in the dark.

I know this isn't right. It doesn't help to know, really. In my mind, perhaps, but I still stay. (I will say that when I get out, it feels wonderful. Just getting out the door is at times akin to passing into another world, which I suppose it is in a way.)

It will pass. It will always pass, just like those people beneath my window. But until then I feel like I am Brer Rabbit, and my hands are fully sucked into the Tar Baby's face for trying to teach life some manners. Guess I'm not much of an Emily Post.

Surviving

2009-04-20T10:09:00.000-07:00

I haven't mentioned it yet, but my last day of work was March 16. I have been looking, though. When people say "there's nothing out there", it's not quite true; there's a lot of work open, but most of it seems to be $12.00 an hour and lower. Can I survive on that? Yes... Unemployment is giving me a whopping $8.82 an hour when you break it down. But this is just surviving.

I have done plenty of surviving in my life. There was not much money while I was growing up. Mom and Dad did the best they could, giving things up to make sure my sister and I got a good education. I appreciate it more now that I can see it from a adult standpoint. I worked my ass off in bars, supporting the boyfriend at the time... and the money really didn't go too far. There was an apartment fire one December, and it wasn't until mid-April I had a place to live again. Working for just enough to pay the rent and juggle between bills for years. Knowing how to use an orange extension cord when the electricity is shut off. Knowing how long it will take to fill the bathtub when the water needs to be heated in the microwave because the gas has been turned off until payment is made. Sleeping in the back booth at Denny's under the 405 Freeway because no buses run that late at night so I can get home, and the money to fix the car just wasn't there. (That lasted over a year.)

I've done my share of surviving, I think. And I really don't want to go back to any of that. I just won't... I can't. Those years of just holding my breath, putting blinders on my eyes like a racehorse, and forcing myself to plow through all the bad stuff, all the garbage and waste and road blocks just to get to a little brighter area, a little higher ground. That type of struggle for such a long time just wears people out.

I found the higher ground, and was happy. I'm really still here, even though instead of being safely inside the house, I am out on the rocks now which shore up the ground to help prevent a landslide. I keep looking up at the sky, biting my lip in consternation, hoping only to see puffy clouds and no rain. There have been a few showers (such as having a job offer rescinded last Friday), but I am still here... as I squat down and make a few raps on the roots of a large tree, knocking on wood.

At least I do know where I've been, if not where I am going.

Language Art

2009-04-16T10:59:00.000-07:00

Good thing: There seem to be plenty of words in Bulgarian that are shared by English, French, and Spanish or Italian.

Bad thing: Trying to make my brain realize "this symbol is a letter and sounds like this", because my brain wants Roman letters, not Cyrillic letters. Brain think Cyrillic letters are pretty, but should keep quiet. :)

Like: самолет

This sounds like "semoulette" (silent e) to me. It means airplane. Brain is looking at it and telling me "Well, if you are going to insist on trying to read this, it looks like 'camonet'. Like a camouflage netting. I guess that could be related to an airplane, because you would use camo nets to hide yourself from an enemy plane. But that is on the ground! And if that л character isn't an n, then why isn't it an r like it looks like it should be were you to write it in cursive?? Why aren't you back learning French???"

Brain will really blow a gasket if I start taking Chinese.

Being Grown Up

2009-04-12T18:59:00.001-07:00

There are times when it is a good thing to remind yourself you are an adult. Not the times when you have to, like when you need to shame yourself into paying a bit extra on some bills instead of going out and splurging on something you want. Not when you make yourself buckle down and go to work, instead of taking one of a dozen sick days you have banked, just because it is one of the most beautiful days you have seen in awhile. And not when you go with the more conservative outfit because you will need to wear it to work, even though you know deep down you look a hella lot better in the really cute top and skirt.

Specifically, I am talking about those of us (okay, ME) who for years never really drank anything at all unless it was out at a club. For me, I haven't been out in ages, and when I was, it would be with the "you need to stay sober because you are driving" Sword of the CHP hanging over my head. For the last five or six nights I have indulged in wine after dinner. Well, and a bit during the day as well, but nothing to affect me much then. I've finished a bottle of Zinfandel, and have started on a bottle of Pinot Noir this evening, with another bottle of Merlot waiting to see if I get bored.

I feel good. I feel wonderfully relaxed and smiling. And what's more, I feel like my own person right now... like the person who puts blue and coral together even though the saleslady stares at me in horror at the thought --- and gets away with it. I feel like the woman who just got a smashing new job, and learned it was actually she who impressed the committee, and that they were indeed impressed. (Oh, wait... that really did just happen!) I feel beautiful and carefree and just like I thought I would as an adult when I was still a child.

Maybe it is that part of me that will always be a child blossoming through once again, breaking through the hard, cold sod of "acceptable adulthood" which always felt more like dirt on my coffin than anything else.

I look at the half-filled glass of crimson-ruby-carnelian and I smile, because I feel good.

All of us should.

America's Most Wanted

2009-02-21T02:07:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow night's episode of America's Most Wanted will feature a story on Lisa Williamson. For those that don't know Lisa, or Aunt Japperhead (or ebegrl), she was a wonderful, kind, generous person and friend. And she was murdered in 2007. Please watch this episode tomorrow night (Saturday, Feb. 21 at 9pm EST) and maybe help catch her killer.

Thank you

Survival

2009-02-15T14:00:00.000-08:00

Once again, I have survived the brown and orange bleakness of Thanksgiving. The cozy happiness through the window of Christmas. The kissing-couples and auld lang sine of another New Year's Eve. The pink, red, and white, chocolate-dipped-diamonds of Valentine's Day.

And this year, as of tomorrow at about 5am, I know I have survived a full year since being told no by the one man I could have belonged to. I don't feel I was rejected... hell, it was over five weeks between my question and his answer. I know what had gone on before, even a week prior, so I know it has nothing to do with whether I am "good enough" or "worthy".

I begin Philosophy on Tuesday. Would that he were here to discuss.

I am about to go check out a bead store on 4th Street. Ages ago there was one, and I loved going there and finding little trinkets, making my own little silly bits. I was perusing a few jewelry sites last night and though they are inexpensive, I wonder how much less it might cost me to make my own. I figure it shouldn't be a waste to try.

And on the subject of school, I still would like to take Chinese soon. Most likely Mandarin, as that seems to be more the universal language.

I applied finally for a Stafford Loan. I had always been given to understand you needed spotless credit or a cosigner for those, but it turns out not to be true. We'll see what happens.

I am restless. I am halfway through my three-day weekend. I am going to go look at the bead store now.

Thursday Morning Sunshine

2009-01-15T08:39:00.000-08:00

From there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere... If you never did, you should. These things are fun and fun is good.
- Dr. Seuss, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, 1960

This quote was in my Buddhist Meditations feed on Google Reader this morning. A week old, but perfect timing. Yes, I certainly did smile when I saw it. Amazing how Dr. Seuss and others can bring the lightheartedness of childhood flooding back into your life with just a few simple, age-old words.

Today has not been bad so far, even being a Thursday. There is an 8-hour sale at Albertson's, and I could stock up on some staples and canned goods and shampoo/conditioner. This helps with my happiness, believe it or not. I am carrying perfect score in my winter class, which is wonderful, too.

I am heading out now. Much goodness to all.

To Move, But To Where?

2009-01-14T05:02:00.000-08:00

During a bit of a break at work Monday, I looked through the employment listings at Oklahoma University... not that I prefer going there or anything, but out of curiosity. Lots of listings, actually, and a few I could really go for. This led to my looking at various apartments (after work), and smiled wryly when I saw rents of like $550 and deposits of a whopping $100. To put this in perspective, the studio I now rent in a not-so-great area of Long Beach had a $1450.00 deposit plus the $725.00 first month's rent when I moved in here three years ago. The rents have since increased about $100 for the newly-rented apartments, so I imagine the deposit has increased to around $1650 by now. To see a deposit of $100 seems impossible to me.

Up in Oregon, which is where I prefer to move, the deposits are more along the lines of $300-$400. Still, amazingly low to me.

Yesterday, I applied for the position at OU, and found a few others at Portland State and OHSU in Portland. A friend of mine also sent me a couple she found where we work... one of which I have already applied for ages ago. Another friend told me that it couldn't hurt to apply for it, but they have had the position open for over a year, and most likely won't hire for it as they have someone else actually doing the job on top of her other duties. Sounds about right.

I will send in more resumes and all today. Another one of the attendings told me to use him as a reference yesterday, too, which was wonderful of him.

There seems to be no actual "end" to this post, so I will just publish it. After all, this whole thing is still ongoing.

Hope everyone has a wonderful day.

Welcome To 2009

2009-01-02T08:51:00.000-08:00

How strange... I wanted suddenly to title this blog: Welcome To Your New Life. I wonder if that is prophetic in my case. (If so, I sure hope it's in a good way!)

I am one of those silly souls who actually came in to work this morning. My office is cold but for the airstream of heat coming from the Tramp Heater under my desk. Joe is here somewhere, but not in his office. I'd give it a guess he is in the OR this morning. Why am I at work? I do have things I need to get done, though all of it could have been done from home.

Class begins Monday for me, a rapid 6-week Winter term. I like that. This will be just the simple computer skills course, but that's good. In the spring comes history, art history, and philosophy. I was trying to get sociology in there as well, but it won't let me sign up for that, too. (Actually, I should try it again right now...)

AHA! Never mind, it let me add the class, probably because grades have been posted. I just got a D in it (yes, I am very embarrassed about that), but pulled the GPA up by getting an A in History of Religion.

Off on a bit of a sidenote here, but about a year to a year and a half ago there was a group of Tibetan Buddhist monks on the main campus at UCI for about a week. One of the things they were doing was creating a sand mandala. I was lucky enough to get out of work and take the van down there to see this, and got some photos. Yes, I want to share two of them... this is just something you should see in person if you ever get a chance.

The room hummed with the small staccato taps of the sticks on the funnels, urging colored flows of sand onto the table. It was peaceful in there, and jovial. The monks would joke a bit with each other every so often, and the American monk would answer visitors' questions in a soft, assured voice. Displays were set up around the room, but most people were in a larger circle, entranced by the creation of the mandala.

Sometimes things show you much more beauty than you expect. This was one of them for me.

Noise!

2008-12-31T09:23:00.000-08:00

I have lived in a busy, noisy, bustling city for quite awhile now. There is never any real quiet, no solitude. I hear traffic noise like static on an old television twenty-four hours a day. The neighbors upstairs have a large dog they leave alone all night at times, who then runs back and forth, whining every few moments. There is shouting in the alleys, cars screeching between buildings and kicking up bits of broken blacktop. Scavengers pulling apart garbage bags in Dumpsters while the people on the third floor drop another load off the back fire escape into the alleyway. Jets from LAX and Long Beach Municipal drone during the day, and police helicopters tend to hover around this area at night.

Only recently has all of this noise been grinding on my nerves. I think it began the afternoon I was waiting for the shuttle to work, standing by myself in the parking lot of the Crystal Cathedral, far enough away from the streets to not really hear the traffic. The quiet was just serene, and full, and it felt as though I could raise my arms and the breeze would lift me into the sky.

I think the closest quiet place, were I to set out from where I live, would be at least an hour's drive away. Maybe more. Yes, there are parts of the beach that are quiet, but then a helicopter passes overhead, going to Catalina Island... or people walk up and are talking loudly... a boat passes too closely to not be heard... I just want a place I can go, lie down on the grass, close my eyes, and be. I want to listen to the small rustlings of the leaves, feel the cool damp of the earth on my back as the sun warms my face. I want to listen to birdsong uninterrupted by machines and people's shouting.

Funny how, when I was in my early 20s, that was the farthest thing from an ideal spot to live. I wanted noise, bustle, neon lights and open all night stores. I wanted nightlife every night of the week. I wanted excitement and glamour and pseudolove. Now I could have that still if I really wanted it, but I don't. A little is fun, sure... but I want the clean, fresh open air, too. And I want trickling water that's not from a leaking faucet, birdsong not prerecorded, and to lie in sunlight from the actual star and not from electric bulbs in a claustrophobic bed.

Yes, this is all coming into consideration as I mull over moving.

Applying

2008-12-30T04:47:00.000-08:00

After struggling to write a decent cover letter, which seems to be one of the hardest things for me, I submitted my resume, cover letter, and a letter of rec from the man for whom I now work to a private university up in Oregon. By very offbeat chance, I happened to see they are hiring for a program assistant in one of their departments. After looking over the job description, I realized it pretty well describes what I do now. The listing doesn't tell the salary, but as long as I can live decently and I have full medical, dental, and vision, I'm all cool.

Granted, I am in California. They may take one look at that and nix me. I'm hoping not... I'm hoping they set up a phone interview, though for what is probably a lower job I doubt they will go to such trouble. (But you never know!)

I am off work the next two days. I could type in all these things I plan to do, or things I could decide to do, or things I would like to do over these next two days... but really. I will probably do whatever seems to present itself at the time.

I did just look at the ticket prices for Stone Temple Pilots on New Year's Eve. Ummmm, no. Not worth parting with $99 at this time.

Hollywood Thoughts

2008-12-28T09:59:00.000-08:00

It's still early... didn't I say that yesterday? But it is. Sunny and clear again today, like a proper Southern California day should be. Minus the smog of summer, that is. I am toying with the idea of hopping a train and going up to Los Angeles, though my fundage isn't too spiffy at the moment. Should I? Shouldn't I? Should I maybe wait until New Year's Eve (or Day) to go? The weather is perfect to take photos at Hollywood Forever, though. I haven't been there in a few years... sad, but true. And it's just a bit of a jaunt down Gower from the Hollywood/Vine Red Line Station down to Gower and Santa Monica where the cemetery is.

I have yet to visit Rudolph Valentino's crypt-space. There was some really bizarro floofloo happening there last time, complete with limos and a red carpet, and Liberace-looking men. I would love to see the Lady in Black... isn't she the one who visits him as a ghost?

Another thing I find lovely in its not-so-incongruous manner, is the sight of the Paramount Studios water tower looming over one side of the cemetery. Yes, Paramount is right on the other side of a wall, and graves are in the shadow of some of the buildings there.

Gregory Peck is in the mausoleum underneath the awful Our Lady of the Angels cathedral in Los Angeles. (I tend to refer to it as Our Lady of the Parking Structures, as that is what the thing looks like to me.) I've been there numerous times. I will most likely go there this week, too.

It's amusing to walk through the gift shop there and see things like Our Lady of the Angels cabernet for sale. Maybe I will find something my parents will like, but most likely not. (If I want to purchase Catholic ephemera, there is a great store on like James Woods Blvd. that has a HUGE selection and lower prices, usually.)

By the way, the top photo is one I took. It is the sign for the Hollywood History Museum, just off Hollywood and Highland, and next to the other Mel's... the one that's not the drive-in. It was taken on May 15, 2008, on one of my jaunts to wander around up there. Maybe it was after I had seen Eddie Izzard at the Kodak Theater in "Stripped"? I think probably so. the other is obviously an old Chesterfield cigarette ad featuring Gregory Peck. Not sure how old it is, but I would guess it to be around 1949, since the ad says "starring in Twelve O'Clock High".

Saturday Musings For Now

2008-12-27T11:55:00.001-08:00

It's pretty chilly out today, at least for Southern California. But it's bright and clear, and the air smells of woodsmoke and ocean. A perfect day to go out walking and wandering for me.

It looks as though more neighbors are moving out. Unsure from where, though it seems to be the front of the building this time. (Good.) When I parked my car last night, I saw an eviction notice on the door of one of the freaky drug houses. There are two on one lot catty corner to me across the alley, and the front one had the white paper with the big red letters. Maybe this will cut down on the yelling and screaming and 2am fights a bit.

There is a Saturday farmers' market about 10 blocks down from me until two this afternoon. I should amble down there, see if there are still any pluots to be had.

At Work The Day After Christmas

2008-12-26T10:22:00.000-08:00

It is cold in this office building. From what I can tell, a lady in Cardiology on the first floor, someone sniffling in their office way on the other side of the building in Pharmacology here on the second floor, and I are the only people in this building. No one on the third floor from what I could tell. I have the Tramp Heater on full blast to help warm up my office. Gotta love the hot little hussy.

Well, I got an extension on the traffic ticket I got three months ago. I can pay it... a whole whopping ten bucks for the processing fee because it's just a FixIt Ticket, but I don't know if I will be able to get in there in time to avoid the $300 fine for being late. Better safe than sorry, as Long Beach Courts already got enough of my money, thank you.

I was perusing the sales a bit online, too. I think I might wander through IKEA after I get paid. Always, always you can find some little something there that will brighten your day for under $5.00. One of the things I love about the place.

With all the people moving in and out and in and out from the center to the back part of my building, I have seen roaches... way too many for my liking. I had started spraying the "unscented" Raid, which works, of course, but while it is definitely unscented, it still makes humans and animals all headachy and woosy. As I don't want to have to leave my windows open when I spray, I went to Home Depot to see about getting one of those sonic things. While I was there, a guy who was gathering items to rid his kitchen of a sudden conquering army of ants (thanks to the rain) began talking with me. He said forget the Raid, because although it does work, you may as well use a degreaser like 409 instead. I looked it up on the internet a day or so ago and by gum guess what? It seems degreasers and all actually dissolve roaches. (Of course, this brings to mind the melting head in Raiders of the Lost Ark.) I'm using it and seeing how well it really works. Oh, also read that stuff like Banana Boat oil can be left applied to areas, and it will literally clog up their lungs and suffocate them. I don't mind that, either; a house smelling of the beach and just-cleaned kitchen? Nice.

And speaking of the kitchen, the sink finally became unclogged last night. Well, less clogged, you could say. After leaving the Liquid Plumr Max gel in there for HOURS, I finally said screw this and did what it is said you are not to do: I took a plunger and started working away. The third time I did this, the water seemed to me lessening in the sink.... I did it another two spats, and saw that yes indeed, it really IS beginning to drain! I let it go all the way down, and began pouring near-boiling water from pots on the stove into the drain. This morning it still looks good, but when I look down into the drain itself, I can't tell if there is still a clog or if that is just shadow against the white PVC pipe. I plan on getting another bottle of Liquid Plumr or Drano to pour down there overnight.

Disturbingly, the people upstairs were banging away and making odd noises that sounded way too much like trying to disassemble the kitchen pipes by themselves. The joys of apartment living.

I should go get more tea and settle in to do another jaunt of work. I've actually got a lot of work to do, but am very unmotivated this morning. Gotta do it, and I will feel all the better for it when I've completed it.

Plus, it's Friday!

Wishing To Be Myself

2008-11-14T17:58:00.000-08:00

This is a LiveJournal entry I just ran across while searching for something else. I am a bit amazed how things have not changed much in this quarter in the past four years - yet there have been some profound changes as well. (A girl can't be around some of the men she has met lately and NOT be changed by them.)

So this is an entry from October 6, 2004:

Hi. I'm a girl. You know, a human of the feminine variety? Female. FE-male.

Oh, I know I don't look like it. I look kind of androgynous. Like it says in a profile somewhere: Some Strange Runaway. I don't act it, either, as has been pointed out to me numerous times by now-ex-boyfriends who decided they wanted Little Miss Pretty Princess 24/7. (Eddie, believe it or not, being the only one in the past 15 or so years who didn't try to wheedle me into that image. Wheedling won't work. There are *other ways* to convince me, thanks...)

For years I've had to deal with drunks, with people freaking out on drugs, with wackos in general... usually by myself. I've always been the "strong" one, the crazy chickwho knew when to get in someone's face, and when to just go call the cops. The one who always had to take care of everything at home, and who got to make the phone calls or the quiet pull-asides when people needed to be told about a death. The one to keep a cool head during an emergency, and the one who "did what was neccessary" when needed.

So I suppose that kind of makes me not-a-girl, hunh? I kind of look like one, but I guess that's all. Well, wait... when it behooves male friends to remember my gender, they do so. You know, like "You can't go on the fishing trip... no women allowed!" "Why do you want to go to a strip club? You're a girl!" "You can't go into the city (Manhattan) by yourself! You're just a girl and you have no idea how dangerous it is out there!" Any other time, I'm just one of the guys, though. Which, don't get me wrong, is very cool.

But sometimes I want to be softer and seem more vulnerable, I guess. It would be nice for a change.

All Souls' Day

2008-11-02T08:19:00.000-08:00

I am considering hopping on the Blue Line and going up to Los Angeles today. It is still rainy outside, and that is a nice change, believe it or not. (Actually, I just peeked out and see fluffy poof-clouds that look like huge cotton balls floating around and letting the bright blue of the sky color the scene every so often. Very, very nice.)

Then again, I've got a major bit of work to do on my NaNo novel. It got shoved to the side yesterday in questionable favor of homework and a paper I needed to write. How dare this happen! And in November... gah!

I don't think I will be going out the back door, however. Two guys from the third floor are bringing huge pieces of furniture, La-Z-Boy type things, out onto the fire escape and rolling them over the railing, letting them fall about 20 to 25 feet into the back alley. They land with a loud, cracking thump-whoosh into the filthy oil-shiny water and wait as one by one they are dragged to the opposite corner to hopefully be picked up by the trash collectors.

I am just thankful they decided against stacking the furniture against my wall again.

Countdown To NaNoWriMo08

2008-10-31T22:36:00.000-07:00

Less than an hour and a half left of October, 2008. This means Halloween is nearly done.

This also means madcap noveling is about to commence all up and down the West Coast of the United States,. I wish you all luck, and hope mine is just as dandy.

Food, School, And NaNo

2008-10-24T05:40:00.000-07:00

I went to FitDay.com this morning and, just out of curiosity, I plugged in all the foods and drink I consumed yesterday. I know I overindulged.... we're all guilty (if you could say that) of it at times. But holy cow and columbus! I ate three and a half times the normal amount of calories we're supposed to have. And fat content? Not even going there.

A couple weeks ago I managed to snag an insulated lunch tote from a carpooling fair at work. This morning I am putting it to what I hope will be good use. Inside it at the moment is one baggie with slices from one red delicious and one gala apple, one baggie with Trader Joe's no-salt-added corn, and a small rice bowl I picked up at the Tokyo store in the mall (for the corn). I am going to add a couple tea bags of chai tea and a mug before I leave for work. I like chai because I can drink the hell out of it and only use a couple packets of Splenda. With coffee, I use more Splenda (not so bad) and loads of creamer from work (bad).

My coffee I have been drinking this morning, and have feasted on one d'anjou pear - my favorite. Good stuffs, Maynard.

I've fallen a bit behind on studying, and plan to remedy that like mad this weekend. Silly, ridiculous me. The e-books will be open in another window while I'm at work, too... most of the stuff for work has been caught up, and I am waiting on a few reps to call or write me back regarding the Difficult Airway Workshop coming up in a couple weeks. I have an off-rotation student coming in for an exam, and the SICU stuff needs to be done. Oh, and tests need to be graded from last week. That's nearly about it.

Maybe I will branch off and jot down ideas about my NaNo novel, too. I know what I will write. I think. I'm pretty sure. Hells, I'm never really sure until I begin the thing just after midnight on November 1st.

And who knows... maybe people reading this blog will be buying it this time next year.

My novel, not the load I'm shoveling...

T Minus 15 Days And Counting...

2008-10-17T22:58:00.000-07:00

Here comes NaNoWriMo '08. Here come the nefarious plot bunnies, and those flying guilt monkeys, and all the caffeine (and nicotine for those who do) one can possibly absorb into one's body in a single month.

Here comes writing like... dare I say... John Norman at his most repetitive. I swear the man was pulling a NaNo before NaNo was born. And neglected to pre-invent the EdMo (National Novel Editing Month).

I don't know what to write. Bites like hell. Most likely someone will die in it, though. I'm such a morbid one when skribblink. Die, die, die. The air is heavy with the stench of maggots as they feast on dead blood and rot, hidden deep inside an expired mattress. The Forever-Youngs playing at eternity, tasting salt metal oozing from another's wrist.

Yep, getting awfully flowery there. I think I'm ready for NaNo.

Interview

2008-10-07T07:49:00.000-07:00

I have an interview this morning. I don't particularly want to go. I would prefer to just goof off at home some more, read some, work on class stuff. But because this is on campus, I really do have to go. I don't need anyone going "Oh, that one? She sounds good, but she canceled the interview for our department at the last minute. I wouldn't bother with her."

The upside is lunch with a friend who works on main campus. Yayyy for foodles-time!

No Paper...

2008-10-05T05:13:00.001-07:00

It turns out I did not write the paper. All this means is I absolutely have to do the next two if I wish to get an excellent grade in the class. These are papers on films - one will be on Gandhi, and the other I want to write about Jesus of Montreal, but can't find the DVD anywhere. I do have that really old Jesus of Nazareth movie, the one they would show around Easter each year. (The most memorable thing about it for me is the line in the print during the last Supper... it goes straight down the middle, straight through Jesus' noggin.)

Simple Things

2008-10-04T11:48:00.000-07:00

I have a paper due by ten tonight, and naturally I've not started it. Of course it will be done and nicely so by then. Oh, and turned in as well!

It has been cloudy and cool all day. I am definitely not complaining, though. I enjoy it. I feel like grabbing one of my jackets and going for a long, long walk. Maybe down to the beach, and the marina, and take some photos and all. Granted, it's getting late, but when has that ever stopped me from roaming around?

Actually, I have been rather lazy all day, and I'm not too proud of the fact. It wasn't what I intended to do. So despite the late afternoon hour, I am going to do some of my chores* and then relax in a good way by watching the rest of Raiders of the Lost Ark and cuddling with my cat.

Oh, the sun is peeking out now. Lovely! And a sudden urge for Greek food for dinner.

*Are they called chores if you are always the one to tell yourself to do them? Or is that just housework?

NaNo 08

2008-10-01T18:16:00.000-07:00

Thirty-one more days until the beginning of this year's NaNoWriMo. Nineteen before my sociology class begins. Uhoh. Can I?

Hells yes, I can. Why not?

Will I?

Dunno. :)

Ocean & Orion

2008-10-01T05:17:00.000-07:00

Taking the garbage out to the Dumpster a few minutes ago, I smiled to myself. The ocean is clearly in the air this morning. Its bluegreen, briny mist made me stop in the mucky alleyways framing the buildings here. I looked up into a clear sky and there was just enough absence of city lighting back there for me to see the constellation Orion clearly.

Orion has always been there, even when I can't see him. He was in Oklahoma, New York, Minnesota. Traveling back and forth through the desert and prairie, he has been above me. No matter where I am, I have always felt a comfort at being able to just look up into the night sky and see the man with his swordbelt of stars.

I wished I could have walked down to the ocean and been able to watch as dawn comes, but instead I came back inside and began getting ready for work.

Concert

2008-09-24T18:53:00.000-07:00

This is an email I wrote to a man I am amazed to know, the day after I saw Nine Inch Nails in Inglewood, California. It captured the images I saw perfectly, so I am including it here.

Just silliness, but I got to go see NIN last night at the Forum. Such
an odd conglomeration of things from my past... the sound engineer
leaning over his board, thrashing and banging his head as he got into
the music, just like my Drug Ex used to do. The sea of people opening
up into mosh pits below me. The smell of different types of weed, of
beer on the steps growing stale. Music of the past 20 years of my life
rumbling and stabbing through me. It was like I was at the Anti-Club
again, sitting in the corner writing bad poetry, staring at people
through my curtain of cigarette smoke and chickory-cinnamon coffee.
And it was like I was on stage again, the music singing only to me,
and through me, and I was the music and it was me, and there was
nothing. Nothing else and nothing. Alone in a bowl of 18,000 people.
Damned normal for me.

At one point the screens showed blood spatters on a wall. And the
music, the instrumental being played, had chiming bells over all...
and instead of the bells being in a minor key, they were in a major
key... happy... I don't know which song was being played, but it was
such an opposite, and it was perfect.

This might be the basis for my NaNo novel this year. I have a month and a week to go still, so who knows what dastardly tales will demand my attention between now and then. (Can you possibly be any more vague, Sydney? Well, yes... yes, I can.) The papers due for History and the start up of Sociology might derail my novelling this year, but at least that will be worthwhile.

Silent Wilderness

2008-09-23T22:23:00.000-07:00

**Prompt from All_Unwritten**

Prompt 144
*Silent Wilderness*

The blacks and the blues and the grays shadowed each other in her mind. A silent wilderness of despair, shot through the center with a red gash of longing. It used to be a place of such warmth and conviviality for her, but words spoken by others, to others, about others... these had taken the sun away and left the landscape in shadow. She had once loved coming here, but now she seemed to come only at the end of the day as she had been told to do. It is cold and it is lonely, and she waits now only for the springtime and his return.

Dark House

2008-09-23T22:12:00.000-07:00

**Prompt from All_Unwritten**

Prompt 153
*Dark House*

Just a little light inside me
It burns bright, burns bright
Just a little light inside me
Burnin' bright in the cold of the night

Singing to herself, she huddled closer in the corner, pushing nightgowned flesh farther into the slatted wood. It was silent now; maybe Mah had gone to bed finally. The girl hoped this was the case, but knew better than to make a sound or move from her position. She tucked her knees closer under her chin, toes curling in an effort to make her slight frame even less.

She looked into the blue-black of the room, seeing nothing in this dark house but sparklers and shades of her own imagination in the gloom. She could hear the kitchen clock tick away the seconds until morningtime, when Mah and Daddy would come back downstairs and begin baking biscuits and frying eggs. Then Daddy would sit at the kitchen table and read the national news, and hand her the Sunday funnies so she could take them and open them full on the livingroom floor, half-remembered scenes with Silly Putty playing themselves out in her mind as she read about Dagwood and Blondie.

That would probably be another six or seven hours from now. The girl swallowed, and huddled into herself more, pulling her thin nightgown over her toes to keep them warm.

A movement, a sound in the doorway. She froze, not even daring to let go her breath. She didn't think it was Mah; Mah turned on lights to find her. She hoped it wasn't one of the ghosts. Her heart beat so loudly she knew its drumming was attracting the thing in the hall. She tried to remember the words to her Guardian Angel prayer, but felt her brain turn to stone as icicle fingers seemed to wrap around it. Two huge eyes flashed close to her, picking up light where there was none, inspecting her. Something cold tried to push its way into her left cheek and she was to terrified to scream.

Her face was suddenly wet and warm, and softness pushed against her thin arm. Her tears began flowing as she wrapped her limbs tightly around the family's Irish Setter who knew what had happened, and knew the girl needed someone right now, even if it was only a dog. The Setter laid down, still tangled in the girl's arms, and gently pulled the girl down as well, knowing the girl would fall asleep with her head at the dog's belly. One red-furred paw rested protectively on the girl's shoulder as her silent sobs faded into the even breathing of slumber.

हेल्प! इ'म इन हिन्दी!

2008-09-22T18:47:00.000-07:00

उम्म्म्म्म्म्म्म्म्म्म
इ सीम तो बे व्रितिंग इन हिन्दी... इफ ओनली इ'डी पेड मोरे अत्तेंशन व्हेन जीवन वास त्र्यिंग तो टीच में तो रीड।

What that says:

ummmmmmmmmmm
I seem to be writing in Hindi... If only I'd paid more attention when Jiwan was trying to teach me to read।

Okay, okay... That was interesting, for about three seconds, I guess.

I recently had my hair cut much shorter than I normally do. It is still considered long, but I would say it only goes a few inches past my shoulders, whereas it used to be down to my waist. I was tired of it catching on things constantly, the ends breaking off and just looking ragged no matter what I tried to do. To save my somewhat-tired sanity, and look halfway decent for interviews, I had it cut.

Today I tossed it up into a claw-comb, laughing at the way it just sticks up in the back now, instead of tumbling over the plastic fastening it to my scalp and half hiding it. With windows down, sunroof open, and my crazy ass driving up the 22, one lock came loose and has curled itself delicately around my face, hugging the jawline on the opposite side of its roots.

It is a pleasant feeling, this stronger sense of femininity.

Food - Pluots: Nectar Of The Gods

2008-09-21T13:25:00.000-07:00

After seeing them all summer in Trader Joe's, I finally picked up some pluots.
After keeping them in my refrigerator all week long, I finally pulled one out and sampled it.

Oh
My
God

I do believe I could live off of pluots, d'Anjou pears, Asian pears, raisin bran with flax, and garlic bread for a good, long time. Oh, and chai tea and coffee.

A Return Entry

2008-09-21T12:00:00.000-07:00

I have been trying to upload a blog from a program (CoffeeCup) onto a webspace I have, and they just don't seem to want to play nicely together. It's not needed immediately.... I am planning on using it for NaNoWriMo. And I don't even really need the blog program; I just wanted to use it. Me being lazy and whatnot.

The past few weeks I have seen me really wanting to write again. Maybe, just maybe, I will be able to swing a low-end laptop for myself before November. That way I can take my nano-ing with me everywhere I go, and not have to deal with writing things out by hand, and then transcribing them into my Word while I would much rather be chasing down the flits of the plot hovering just out of my reach down the brick path. Yes, that's how I see it right now. If it sounds a bit SecondLife, I would have to blame my enjoyment of SL on that.

And no matter what its detractors say, SL is good for opening your eyes to the real world around you. I see things in terms of textures a lot more than I did, and I think I have caught more interesting (and of more interest) photographs in my camera than I would have without being a builder and photographer in SL.

It is a lovely, sunny day here in Southern California. Last night the air became cold and smelled heavily of the ocean... a scent I will never dislike. Now is the scent of old wood houses and water, dust in the alleys, someone's toast. A crow is cawing as it circles above our buildings. Someone is running a small-speed lawnmower, tires of a pickup crunch the gravel and sand in the alley outside my window, and a woman calls in Spanish to her kids.

That's my world, at least during the day on Sunday.

Three And A Half Years On...

2008-02-05T19:14:00.000-08:00

Amazing how long it's been since I began this blog, and amazing how little I've posted to the thing.

Life has changed quite a bit since then, and also remained the same. No longer temping, and I can say that with great, great relief. I am finally managing classes in college without having to drop because work needed me during those hours. (Well, working for a university might help that, too...) I have moved twice since my last post here, and am now searching for another place, but this time at my leisure.

I have to say it's so nice to be able to take my time in something like that.

I've bought a car, the first one I have ever financed. Scary? Hells yeah. But one of those steps I needed to take. A good, permanent job means I can think ahead and make payments and not worry about how I will afford gasoline or if I will need to go to the food pantry this week.

This Monday begins my English class, and my history class... History of Religion. Already in the pre-class email the instructor warns people about proselytizing, or critiizing other religions. I would expect no less, personally. I nearly didn't take this course because of the prohibitive cost of the textbook (not so bad by itself, but nearly $100 more on top of the already-spendy books I'm needing for this semester), but the professor also pointed out that the book is available online for a fee. The fee turns out to be half the book's cover price, and the subscriber can print it for his or her own use. Sold.

In other news? Not too much. I was actually brought back over here because an amazing woman has begun an amazing blog on here. In her own words: a new blog that will deal primarily with pop culture and how it interacts/battles with fat acceptance. Take a gander... seriously, at http://intellectualbabe.blogspot.com/

It will do you good.

Writing And A Hair Shirt Of Sorts

2005-11-27T00:52:00.000-08:00

I have failed. Oh, how I have failed.

For an entire year I have planned on using the month of November to really crunch out another NaNoWriMo novel. Of course, life had different plans for me. A move, an out-of-commission vehicle, bad nighttime shifts... all of these and other things came together to form a nice, high wall between my wanting to write and the time to do so and the ability to actually concentrate on it.

I'm not waiting another year, though. That's ridiculous. I don't need a clock running to be able to write, and heaven knows I write better when I can concentrate more on how I'm writing instead of how much I'm writing.

But it definitely works when I've got the pressure on, too.

Down By The River Where It's Warm And Green

2005-08-30T13:40:00.000-07:00

I've only seen photos of what Katrina has done to New Orleans, and these photos are just what people have been able to take so far. They say eighty percent of the city is under water. (Of course, I doubt that means completely submerged, but still.) I haven't really been able to see anything on television, thanks to lousy reception in the apartment in the Greater Los Angeles Area where I live.

But I hear of bodies floating in the city's floodwaters.

I hear residents will be allowed back in to get clothing and some essentials, but then the area will be shut off for at least a month.

I must be some kind of crazy that I would still live there if I have a chance. Because I would. I don't know why, and I don't bother to really ask. It's just a feeling... a pull back there. I've never even been in Louisiana that I know of, and yet it feels as though it knows me better than if I'd lived there my whole life.

Sounds like silly romantic musings, brought on by too many hours spent reading Anne Rice, doesn't it? But in truth, I felt this way long before I'd even heard of Anne Rice or Poppy Z. Brite. Before I'd seen the first Bond film I watched in its entirety: Live And Let Die, which took place partly in New Orleans. (A very fictitious and cheesy NOLA, to be sure...)

Honestly, had I not been hired for the job I have now, I would more than likely be one of those Superdome Refugees at this moment. And it may happen in the future... who knows?

Ah, such a random bit of posting...

When The Word "Terror" Actually Meant Something

2005-02-06T00:59:00.000-08:00

(Reposted from my LiveJournal)

These past few weeks, I've seemed to cry at the drop of a hat. Not just because something struck me as sad, but because of good and happy things as well. I am not usually this... emotional? Well, I don't just cry continuously. Not like this.

Whatever the case may be, it happened again today. I'd found the Charlie Daniels CD, and was playing it. It always reminds me of being a kid in Oklahoma City, before we moved to Elgin, because that's when most of those songs were being played on the radio. It was the heyday of Smokey and the Bandit, of BJ and the Bear, and of Convoy. Still waving our flags from the Bicentennial, we welcomed the Iranian hostages home, and finally retired our yellow ribbons. (Yes, I do still have the one Mom tied in my hair the day they came home.) There was something about America back then... we'd beat the USSR in hockey at the Olympics; disco, country, and good old rock-and-roll were just really beginning to take notice of punk and the new romantics and all; and hell, I was just about to become a teenager within the next few years and life was damn good. (If I ignored personal realities, that is.)

With this in my head, I realized I don't seem to have a "country-type" icon for my LiveJournal. Damn. I need to go hunt one down, don't I? But first, let me put this Garth Brooks CD on. Track six, that's right. The Change.

I should have known better. I also should have known better than to allow sentiment to guide my browser window to the Oklahoma City Memorial website. Has it been ten years? How the hell can it be ten years, and I still find my eyes filling up when I see it, or when I hear that song? For pete's sake, my cheeks are wet as I type this, and the keyboard blurs in front of me.

Now, why that title for this entry? Because back when I was scaring my sister and myself with my own version of The Legend Of Wooley Swamp, and we were busy playing "Convoy", and pretending to be pretty ladies that BJ comes to rescue (along with the Bear, of course; can't leave out the Bear!), and imagining we were helping the Dukes foil Boss Hogg and Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane..... Back then, the word "terror" meant something almost incomprehensible to us. I'm old enough to remember news footage of Viet-Nam on television, but Mom and Dad had taught me already that what you see on television "isn't real". (I don't think it occured to them I was associating this with the news, too. Probably a good thing I did.) I'd seen scary movies and read plenty of ghost stories. (Yes, my ghost fascination was born at a young age.)

But as for "terror"? Even the letters themselves strung together brought an uneasy feeling, as though something more dangerous and ultimately much scarier than anything I'd read in books or seen in movies was lurking just out of my peripheral vision. I knew it was there, but didn't dare move to see what it was.

Then one lovely April morning I got to watch it unfold in my hometown while I was half a continent away. And the headlines of the paper the next day showed me I was correct in identifying the name of my around-the-corner monster:

Nearly six and a half years later, the monster came around again, even bigger this time. But in the aftermath, something happened. The name of the monster was made into a rallying cry for some. It was made into the name of a war, and became a political buzzword. Terror was no longer a terrifying word, because it was flashed across countless television screens, and every paper in the country, and broadcast on radio stations repeatedly. It became watered down in its overuse. Where it once was worse than all the boogeymen of my childhood, the word is now nothing more than an irritant to my mind.

The concept is still there; but the word is lying slovenly in the raingutter of American English.

On Lying

2005-02-05T14:36:00.000-08:00

I would like to think most people I have dealings with are honest... at least for the most part. Unfortunately, this isn't always the case, and especially not when the person being dishonest seems to fear I might somehow get the upper hand in something, anything, in which we might be involved.

I've had to deal with liars before, and liars of all sorts... from the really bad ones a blind man could spot from fifty feet away, to the ones who tend to fool just about everybody. I'm not happy about it, but at least I can consider them learning experiences.

And for heaven's sake, if you lie to me constantly, do not think I will believe the little puppy-dog remorse with which you try and placate me, hoping I will cool off and not rat you out.

I am more evil in that manner than you might suspect.

Just Give It Up, Wouldja?

2004-10-26T13:26:00.000-07:00

A few years ago on a public diary site, I used to engage in heated post-battles with an extreme Evangelical Protestant. Don't get me wrong -- we didn't hate each other, or even dislike each other. We just disagreed on quite a few theological points. He, like so many who subscribe to his beliefs, loathes the Pope with a passion unrivalled in most wedding-night bedrooms. I, on the other hand, was primarily raised Catholic, and after wandering through different belief systems as though I was an explorer in a foreign land for over ten years, somehow found myself back home within the Catholic church.

Not to say I agree with every single thing written in the catechism. I don’t. I was even taught by my high school theology teacher to question everything. (Very Jewish, that.) To put it succinctly, I believe that if you listen to your conscience and honestly try to follow its advice, you’ll be A-OK with Homedood Upstairs. I don’t believe there is One True Religion. There can’t possibly be. I do believe that at the heart of every religion in the world is a basis of truth, though. Whether or not it’s a truth you want to acknowledge is up to you.

I know in the Protestant churches, it is believed that people are saved by faith alone. Unfortunately, I see all too often where this is translated as “We don’t have to do anything but believe and be saved”. A wonderful woman I know mentioned this in her blog a few days ago, and I replied that I will never, ever be able to belive in the “faith, not works” bit. “I've watched people's interpretation of that in action (or should I say lack of action). She said that Paul tells that faith without works is dead, which is what I believe, too. Only too many times I see people who believe that donating to charity during the holiday season, or plunking a few bucks in the offering basket is enough.

It’s not. Not to me, at any rate.

How many times have you passed a homeless person on the street, and instead of just ignoring that person, offered them a smile. Or maybe handed over the doggy bag from the restaurant where you just ate. If someone asked you for a cigarette, you gave them two or three. What about that extra-large soda you’ve been toting around, knowing you won’t finish it? Maybe that guy over there digging through the trash next to the bus stop would appreciate it before you toss it. How about remembering your manners, and if you see someone who would appreciate that seat on the bus or train that your butt is currently warming, get up and offer it to them. (If you live in Los Angeles, it might be a good idea to offer it while your butt still occupies it… I’ve seen people literally sit underneath people trying to offer seats.) If someone is trying to merge into traffic or change into your lane, don’t speed up and play Block The Vehicle. Slow down a bit and let them in. Just because no one does it for you doesn’t mean you should go along with popular action.

And this translates universally, whether you have a “belief system” or simply don’t give a damn about that subject. It’s about just being nice. It’ll come back to you.

Dans Le Commencement

2004-10-18T05:50:00.000-07:00

My exhibitionistic tendencies have finally led me here. Oh, my. I suppose spilling my guts in a LiveJournal wasn't enough.

Introduction: I'm a 36-year-old employment whore (as an old boss once called me), currently temping for both Kelly and Volt. I suggest them both for those of you needing employment. I take oddball photographs with disposable cameras, explore old buildings and dark alleyways, and wear the psychological hair shirt every November by participating in NaNoWriMo. I have two cats, one truck, and an amazing menagerie of friends. I will try just about anything once if put to me in a way I simply can't refuse, and somehow none of my past exploits have landed me in jail.

Be warned... I have a tendency to be un-PC quite often, and become a bit Schadenfreude at times.