Stagnancy

Lines of the day: Of course I’m happy to hear from you in the same way you’re happy to get a bad fortune in a good fortune cookie, or the other way around.

There has got to be something better then you, then something shaped like love stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

The sound of failure! Or as Kate always used to tell me, Remember: You can't spell failure without U-R-A! I of course didn't bring my computer home to Fargo this weekend but in my defense I knew that I would be too busy imbibing spirits with the fam to get anything else accomplished. So now, here we are. 31 years old and still not bothering to cut a piece of birthday cake when I can just eat it off the container on which it came. But I did get some Christmas shopping done tonight, so thumbs up!

The big 60 page manuscript compiling is still nowhere closer to being finished. Lame-o. I have to say I don't know when I'm going to get a chance to work on it. The truth, she hurts. But I got some good books for my birthday which could provide some inspirational material. That is if I ever finish Anna Karenina.

Absentee ballot

Lines of the day: Do shoes with my name carved in ever walk across the carpet in the thought base over your spine, should I keep trying or have something better to do with my time? Cause I actually don’t.

If it’s red and blue then it’s purple, but if it’s purple then it’s not.

An hour is like a day is like a week is like a tree growing that I wanted to be when I grew up.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. I worked roughly 62 hours over seven days. I haven't been home at all because when I wasn't working I was out with friends or I was home but I was sleeping. These are facts but also sound like excuses for not having written anything. And then the one time I had time there was a citywide internet outage for Comcast. Sometimes when I work that much I think to myself, I can't do this! I literally can't do this! except all the while, I'm doing it.

Needless to say there has been little to no progress on compiling a 60 page poetry manuscript. But I did finish decorating my apartment! (This included decorating for Christmas.) And of course nothing will get done over the long weekend but that's because I'm going home which is the greatest excuse of them all. I love going home. I love Fargo. That's good since I have it tattooed on my upper back. I of course also love it here but home is home.

I ate too many peanut M&M's today.

I'm going to get coffee with Kate tonite. We haven't been able to have a pumpkin spice latte together yet so I'm thinking tonite is the nite.

Reading over your own poems that you've read before is always an odd thing. One of my favorite things that I've written is actually a collection of lines. This is when I'm going through my old stuff and I find a poem that is wretched and boring (you think you're pretty brilliant sometimes when you're angsty and writing something and then you go back years later and think dear God, was I that annoying in person?) and find a random line that I managed to nail amidst the lines of crap. So I type those. I have several pages by now. At some point I could probably go through and find enough similar ones to create a poem. Or I could throw a bunch together and write something completey non-sensical. However since I don't have a word count anymore I thought I would have a line of the day where I will just pick one at random. Let's start now! How fun!

Line of the day: I didn't even notice you were leaving until haven't you left yet?

See, that could possibly go in a poem. I don't even remember where most of them came from; I can tell you for free that this one was 95% certain about a boy. Shocking, shocking. It would work well if I could rhyme it into something. If I could produce a book of biting rhyming poetry about boys, that would be awesome. Wouldn't it be more productive if I started doing things rather then saying oh, and then I want to do this? Silly Alison. In conclusion, I finished my edamame hummus and it hurts my heart a little to be out.

In which I write a long explanation of a rubber band

Word count: Oh wait. I don't have to do that anymore.

I was going to write yesterday then I didn't. Lazy, lazy. The big goal this month is compiling the 60 page manuscript. That's a lot of pages. I may have to enlist reinforcement for opinions. I also have caught Novel Fever and would like to start another novel. I should also read over the one that I wrote at some point but I'm a tad worried it will sound...let's see...underdeveloped. Incoherent. Rushed even though it's 50,000 words. Jumping around a lot. Lacking in plot development like a terrible horror movie though not in a good way like a terrible horror movie. I still want to write essays based on terrible horror movies. Applying literary theory and what not. Add that to the list!

I also think I'm going to start bringing back the wrist rubber band. The actual name I have given it when I wear a rubber band around my wrist dates back to this doctor I had in high school who suggested that I wear a rubber band around my wrist and whenever I had a negative thought about myself, I should snap it. This was supposed to help with my poorly low self-esteem. I thought it was one of the dumbest things that I had ever heard, mostly because I kind of thought I had made it clear that I was harboring self-injury tendencies and here she was encouraging it. But I did it. I don't think it really achieved the goal because the only way it corrects the behavior is after your wrist is red and sore you think, wow, I should stop doing whatever it was that made me snap that endlessly. But does that correct the actual root of the problem? No, no it does not. So long story short my name for this therapy is the Suicidal Snap Band because it was suggested when I was having such thoughts. The problems that were the problems at the time are no longer problems, but in my head this is the name it will always have. That doctor was pretty stupid overall. I did bring the band back when I was quitting smoking one of the 5o times I quit (I am still quit, except for the occasional cigar) and also when I worked at Chili's when I would get too annoyed by customers. This is the main reason I'm going to bring it back now, because people at both jobs will annoy me and I really just need to take it down a notch and calm down. Let go and let God. That type of thing. Energy that is going towards negativity should be harnessed and converted to positive projects. Like writing! See, it all circles back to each other.

In conclusion, sometimes I think to myself, I should tell my parents that I'm sorry for this thing that I did when I was a kid once I learn the lesson years later. Like today when my car was taking forever to warm up, I thought to myself, I remember complaining as a child when it was freezingass cold out and the car didn't warm up fast enough and in my child peabrain this was on my parents. But now I realize, not true. It's all on the weather and the car. So apologies to my parents for anytime that I whined that the air coming out of the vents was cold when it should have been magically warm. Time to start sifting through a lot of bad poetry!

Victory is mine!

Word count: 50,028.
Should be at: 50,000.

In the immortal words of Daniel Day-Lewis after the immortal milkshake speech, "I'm finished!"

I would write more about how I feel but after writing over 6,000 words I feel a bit written out. So instead I will say that I will discuss this further tomorrow and for now I a very smug grin on my face, I'm quite sure.

In which our fair writer starts to get desperate.

Word count: 43,544.
Should be at: 45,000.

I really wanted to get there but it's so daunting. I don't know what part of our brain tricks us. I should be thinking, look at all of the words that I wrote! and yet I am thinking, look at the words I have left to finish! This novel is terrible! It's actually not terrible. I mean I haven't reread the thing and while it's not going to win any major awards it's not like The Happening in novel form. It involves a plant but it's not a plant that drives you to kill yourself. God, what a great movie.

I'm just stalled. If I don't finish tomorrow it will be all right. I still technically have until Tuesday. I say technically because it would be great to be finished before then. When I got to crunch time on papers at college I would just start typing and eventually something would start to click. Once when I had to write a paper on The Taming of the Shrew I started quoting a Sleater-Kinney song and by god, that paper got written. I think I even managed to link the two together. Sometimes after I finished a paper I was terrified that the professor would read it and discover that I had no idea what I was talking about...I do miss writing papers. Nerdy but true. When I watch bad movies or tv I want to write papers about them. I have a vision of writing a brilliant literary dissertation on I Know Who Killed Me. You have no idea of the literary theory thatI can find in that movie. I hope I was a French theorist in a past life.

I had a terrible day at work. When I'm at the restaurant, I become the worst version of myself. It maddens me becuase I've had much more stressful jobs and handled myself much better. I think of times when kids were fighting with each other or throwing things or going off on me or walking out of doors and I remained calm; yet today I was faced with a window of food that I was supposed to magically get to tables and I lost it big time. Of course it's somehow easier to remain calm when you need to be putting on a good face. I feel pretty trapped when I'm there. Also I finished the bag of M&M's at the place where I'm dogsitting. Those things are like crack, I swear. I mean I've never done crack but really who needs it when M&M's are cheaper and legal. I did see a crack pipe once...stick a fork in me, Jerry. I'm done.

Creeping onward!

Half a bottle of wine and one fourth of a bag of pretzel M&M's later, word count: 40, 670.
Words until 50,000: 9,300.

Now on to an exciting Friday night of laundry, frozen pizza, cable, and fashion magazines.

Fauxturkey

Word count: 36,077.
Words to go until the end: 13,923.
Words I need to write per day to finish on time: 2,785.

Stupid helpful stats page on the website.
Of course I didn't have time to write anything for two days and then today I wrote only 1,000 words. I feel like I'm back in college, down to the wire. Thank god for a fairly open weekend. I have all day Sunday off and no plans for Friday and Saturday nights beyond dog-sitting. And I finished the Gossip Girl disc that I had tonight so that's out of the way excuse wise. Though I do have an Elle to read and a Vogue to re-read...Bad! I have to finish. I'm going to finish! Take that, stats page!

I had some of my precious tofurkey. It was delicious. It should make for good leftovers tomorrow. And it doesn't make you sleepy like actual turkey. My best Thanksgiving ever was my second one in L.A. when I decided to work so I could spend the day with the kids. It was amazing to be a part of their holiday because I'm pretty sure most of them hadn't ever had a good one. We all went around the table and said what we were thankful for and I'm pretty sure we all cried. I didn't even mind that there was no tofurkey. I miss them.

Breaking in the smoke detector

Word count: 35,082.
Should be at: 36,674.

The nutty news is that I'm at 35,000 words. That's just crazytown. It's equally nutty that I have eight days in which to get to 50,000 but it's starting to actually seem doable. I'm starting to be proud of myself, quite frankly. I also have my plan for December which is to get a 60 page poetry manuscript compiled to send off to a local press. And then after that I can start another novel! These things sound strange to say but also, quite doable. Plus if I put out into the universe (well, this blog anyway) that I want to do them if I go back on it I look like a lazy jerk. Nothing like a little emotional blackmail on yourself!

The girls came over for dinner. It was good. And my friend Laura, who has become my official hair cutter, gave my bangs a much-needed trim. They hadn't been cut since right before my brother's wedding. They were getting in my eyes. I would cut them myself but anyone who knows me and knows of the disaster that was the haircut I gave myself freshman year of college knows that I have been scared straight of cutting my hair, even if it's just the bangs. I can't lie though, that was one of my favorite haircuts. I'm sure my parents would disagree. Although at least I was smart enough to do it in like Februray so by the time I got home for the summer it had pretty much grown back. Good times, good times.

And now I'm going to be a grown up and get into bed by 11:00. The craziness is never ending, I tell you. Also tomorrow I am going to see Nick Cave in person. Nick Cave is an amazing musician and he wrote The Proposition which was a great movie. I'm pretty psyched. I need to look good in case my soul mate happens to be there. I'm always on the look-out for a good opp for a "how we met" story. Since checking out guys at the gym hasn't been working. Although I would love to be able to say, "Oh, we met at the gym" because those are words I wouldn't even imagine myself saying...right, right, bedtime.

The aftermath of the ice.

Word count: 33,735.
Should be at: 35,007.

I would have loved to get to 35,000 tonight but alas, it does not feel doable if I am also going to wash the dishes and get into bed by midnight. I worked all day which was heinous. When I walked outside to my car there was a parking lot of ice leading to my car which also had ice on it. Whenever I have to drive to the restaurant in bad weather I think to myself, if I die going on my way to waitress, I will haunt that place for the rest of my life. Last week we ran out of the house tea that we brew; I missed that whole episode thankfully because apparently customers actually cried. I can't even begin to imagine what goes in one's head if that's your reaction to not being able to get tea. I joke that it's like crack but apparently it truly is. It wasn't as lucrative of a day as I had hoped but what can you do. I can pay the rent so life will go on.

I only have a little over a week to finish the novel. It's getting a bit difficult but I'm going to struggle through. I would feel like a total asshole if I didn't finish on time now.

One of the kids that I worked with in L.A. facebooked me and I was looking through some of her friends for other kids and I saw one of them that I wonder about the most. I almost started crying I was so relieved to see that she's alive. I would not be at all surprised if at least one of those kids I worked with was dead. There's several that I worry about whenever they cross my mind. I would love to know how they are but at the same time, if it's bad, it would break my heart to know. That was easily my favorite job that I've had. Well, besides Dairy Queen.
Obviously both for different reasons.

Here comes the freezing rain again.

Word count: 31,945.
Should be at: 33,340.
Words short: Meh.

You know you're getting old/young when you decide to skip going out with your friends after hitting up the Roller Derby because you have to work at 8 the next morning and then you think to yourself, oooo, now I can finish up that disc of Gossip Girl!

So I didn't get much written today because I had to work and then as aforementioned, roller derby. Which was awesome. And tomorrow I double. Neat!

But in a good twist of fate, end of the month crunch time lands when I'm dog-sitting for a co-worker over the long weekend and I have two full days off. Plenty of time for writing! And, um, Gossip Girl.

The little engine that could, maybe

Word count: 30,193
Should be at: 31,673

Well, look at this way, I passed 30,000. That was the best I could do in 15 minutes.

Do you know that it feels impossible to finish a novel in a month when you have two jobs, have to go to the gym enough to have your insurance pay part of it, and have a life? I literally have the next five days packed pretty full. Of course I could have stayed home tonight to write but nooo, I had to go see 127 Hours on the day that it opened here. In my defense I have been wanting to go to a movie for awhile. It was amazing. I love Danny Boyle. And James Franco was awesome. I mean he had to carry that whole movie basically and he pulled it off. No pun intended. The arm amputation wasn't too bad. Said the girl who sat through Hostel and Hostel Two (and am probably a worse person for having seen both). Seriously though, by amputation time you just want so badly for this guy to get out. And it's not like they stay on it the entire time, there's some split screen and cut aways. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't glance away a few times.

And while I would love to go on or write more, I have to waitress at eight in the morning. Neat.
Here's hoping that freezing rain in the forecast doesn't hit until later! Oh well, it could be worse. I could have to cut off my own arm after drinking my own urine.

The plot thickens, or at least the word count does

Word count: 29,683.
Should be at: 29,988
Words short: 305. Boo-yah.

I really need to decorate my apartment. I have of all of this stuff to put up. Also my desk is wobbly. I don't think it's about to collapse or anything but if anyone came up to me and said what can I furnish in your apartment for you? I would say a nice, sturdy desk and a good TV watching chair. I would say a couch but it would have to be a small couch. Maybe a chair big enough for two people. Just enough room for me and my imaginary boyfriend! Maybe I can find a boyfriend with a spare couch. I mean I've waited this long to go looking for one actively, may as well throw some criteria in there. The basic criteria for now is "must have a job and not have a drinking problem." Setting the bar pretty high here. Also he needs to put forth effort. The last one I was trying to date has not passed that test and thus my co-worker Megan has informed that I am not allowed to contact him.

I can't believe that I've written almost 30,000 words. That's nuts. Now that I've trained myself to set aside a block of time for writing it makes me a bit annoyed with myself that I didn't do it earlier. What I should do is make a list of what I can accomplish with that hour once this novel is done. Actually I have another idea for a novel! I would've written that one but the website suggests not writing anything that you've worked on before so you don't nitpick over it. Which makes sense. I like what I'm writing but if I have a nervous breakdown and end up writing a bunch of s*** to fill pages it won't be as big of a deal. I stated reading it tonight, I read like two pages. Part of me wants to go back and read the whole thing but I feel like that would spell disaster. Also, it would take me a long time, at least long enough to distract me from writing more. And I can't even pick up Anna Karenina which I've been reading for like, oh, almost half a year now since I haven't read it in like two months. Stupid Stieg Larsson and his books took over my reading life for a couple of months. I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Lisbeth Salander is fabulous character. I could only hope to write someone half as awesome as her.

Not my most uplifting post but you've been warned.

Word count: 27,296
Should be at: 28,322.
Words short: 1,026.

I managed to get tomorrow night off so that's something anyway. Also whenever I eat delicious things like edamame hummus I also think about how my brothers would act like it made them sick. That is a Thanksgiving tradition that I will miss, me eating tofurkey while they act like it's contaminating them just to be in the same room as it. There's always Christmas I suppose, although I think it will just be one brother then. He'll have to put in extra effort to make up for the other three. I'm fairly confident that he can do it.

Sometimes I worry that I spend too much time by myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm awesome company. The novel writing has been good for me to be writing, period, but working two jobs and writing every day is hard. Working 50 hours a week is ridiculous as it is. When I think about an actual job that I would like to do I feel like the ceiling is caving in on my head and by head I mean stomach because I do not have an answer for that. I would love to go back to working with kids but I'm not sure how to do that without going back into low-paying, bad hour territory of non-profit. Sometimes I curse myself for not going into teaching. Sure, I could still do that. I could also sell my kidneys on the black market to fund further school loans.

I was in a mood all day becuase it's November 17th which was the day we found out that my mom was sick and I remember everything about that day. Well, everything from when we found out on to the end of the day. That was ten years ago. That's not the greatest feeling, when you can think to yourself, wow, ten years ago my life was ruined! Sometimes the truth sounds dramatic but it's still the truth.

I feel like I should end on a more positive note. Let's see...Oh! We hung up paper snowflakes today at work! And I'm done.

Well begun is half the fun, or: See you in another life, brotha

Word count: 24,842.
Should be at: Let's face it, it's Day 15, I should be at 25,000 and somehow I can't bring myself to write the 158 words to get me there. But we'll just let that go for now.

I ended up not going in to work. I woke up and felt really run down. Which I've done to myself. So I called in to get some rest. I've been pushing myself pretty hard since, oh, August. I've also had this cough for like a week which I wish would either go away or just become a cold.

I watched six episodes of Lost today, one of which was the finale so that took up the entire afternoon. But it's good inspiration. I mean, what an amazing show. Anything that can make you care that much about that many characters has some great writing. I cried all over again at the finale. It was like I was watching my friends get back together with their long-lost loves. That was one of my very favorite elements of the last season: that no matter what, plane crash or no, they were meant to be in each others' lives somehow and find their way back to each other.

I'm trying to give the novel I'm writing a sense of that. I do think that there are people who show up in your life at sort of appointed times; or maybe they were there for a bit and their role gets stepped up when it's needed. Of course it's up to you how much a person is in your life, and you gravitate towards certain friends more depending on different things. But there are those people who suddenly show up and it's as though they were supposed to be there. Not fate, necessarily; just--good timing. I'm working with the idea of a saying that my dad found when we were in Ireland that he gave to my stepmom. It says it much more eloquently but basically it's the idea that there are people who show up in your life at exactly the right point. I'll have to find it. Hmm, it could bump my word count up if I work it in as a quote...

I, of course, worry that will never happen to me. (Not to sound like a babycrier.) In the relationship sense, I mean. Certainly I have friends that showed up right on time. As a writer I can create ideal people for other people but I am woeful of when it will be my turn. And I know that I'm young, and I know that I'm awesome and that I can take care of myself, and that I have people who love me. But of course there's that wistful romantic part of me that hopes I find the Des to my Penny. The Sayid to my Shannon. The Charlie to my Claire. The Jack to my Kate. The Sawyer to my Juliet....I watched like five hours of the damn show, OK?

Productivity!

Word count: 22,195.
Should be at: 23,324.
This puts me only 1,129 short of where I should be; however considering that when I sat down I was at about 6,911 short of where I should be I am quite fine with where I'm at now. And it was a section that I'd been looking forward to writing so it worked better to just sit down and pound out the whole thing. Though it took some time.

I could definitely use a mental health day. Except when you're a temp/waitress those aren't exactly a part of your things that you have access to, so for me a mental health day would be a fake sick day that would also be unpaid. My apartment needs a good couple of hours of final unpacking and I haven't even started decorating. But it was a good weekend, mostly since we all finally got to meet Miss Margaret Jane who was born a month before my own birthday. Perfect! I know that everyone says that the babies in their life are the cutest babies ever, but this baby is a good-looking one. She's not lumpy or wrinkly, just tiny and beautiful and she has great hair already. And she's already had her first snowfall so that's something right there.

No, really, it's going well!

I'm not going to lie. I'm short of where I should be.
According to the helpful NaNoWriMo site where I upload my word count with fear in my heart and stomach, I'm projected to finish on December 7th. Thanks, helpful website.

Sure, yesterday I worked a double shift. Passable excuse. But tonight? Tonight, I skipped the gym and got Chinese food and watched three hours and twelve minutes of Gossip Girl (Blair and Chuck just cannot get it right!) and then wrote for a bit. But then I had to wash my hair. No, really. And I'm probably going to watch I Know Who Killed Me for roughly the 3oth time (though in my defense a co-worker had borrowed it for quite awhile). I am also waiting for a phone call saying that my dearest Kate had a successful C-section and that Margaret Jane is out and kickin'.

The main sticking point is that I have come to a pivotal point in the story that I am not ready to tackle until I can give it my full attention. Unfortunately my full attention won't really be in affect until Sunday, my first day off in two weeks. At which point I will be even more behind. What did I say earlier, that I'm not going to panic?
I'm not going to panic.
She said as she panicked.

If only this blog could towards the words. Maybe I could pull a sort of modern Pale Fire and work myself into the text.

In conclusion I don't appreciate it when people make inappropriate phone calls in public, like when I was waiting for my Chinese food earlier (they gave me enough fried tofu to build a miniature replica of the Eiffel Tower, by the way) and another woman waiting decides to make some phone call that included information like, they banned him from flying since he threatened to bring explosives on, and I used to just say sure you can drop your kids off thinking the mom just needed a break but really she was going on a crack run, and "So I should call Adult Protective Services then?" Lady, you should call whoever you want, but do it in private because I'm just trying to get some fried protein here.

Laundry night

Word count: 14,775.
Should be at: 14994. That's only 219 words short! Good work, Alison.

As predicted I didn't get to write yesterday. So today I had to buckle down and I did an excellent job. I am very proud of myself, apparently proud enough to quit 219 words early. But what can you do. I should be at 25,000 words by the end of Monday and that makes me want to vomit a little.

I have to waitress tomorrow which also makes me to want a vomit a little. But Thursdays I get to see all three of my Work Moms so that helps. It's sad really because I'm an excellent waitress but I detest it. Sometimes it's hard not to say to people, you do realize that you're completely ridiculous, right? You know that some people exist who still tip 10%? And I work in an upscale mall. Nothing makes you angrier quicker then someone who pays with a $100 and leaves you barely anything. When people are rude to me, I really want to ask them if they have children and if so would they appreciate it if someone spoke to their children the way that they're speaking to me?

But I digress. I just roll my eyes a lot when they're not looking. One day they're going to roll right out of my head. Which is a shame, seeing as how they are my best feature.

All work and no play...

Word count: 12,082.
Should be at: 13,328, but I refuse to panic.

I refuse to panic because Monday is what we call Ladies Night and I knew that going into today that I wouldn't get as much done, just like I know that the same thing will happen tomorrow because tomorrow I go to watch Parenthood at Cindi's house with a couple of other co-workers. I have to hit the gym too in my dream to get to 150 pounds. My plan was to dedicate Wednesday night to finishing unpacking/decorating and pounding out a bunch of words. But after a good conversation with my friend Cristin tonite I decided to give this guy another shot and texted him and theatretically we'll get together later that night. I'll just have to, let's see, not necessarily pick my battles, but arrange them accordingly. Meaning I have all day Sunday off so I can always allocate finishing apartment touches until then and put all extra time upcoming towards writing.

I was a little worried about Ladies Nite because the plan was to go to Claire's house and her ma was going to be there, and Angela was bringing her ma as well. I was concerned because I think about my own mom daily regardless but lately she's been more on my mind. I don't believe that I ever need to get over her being gone; I don't think when she was still here that she had ever gotten over hers being gone. For me it comes and gos how much it affects me. And this year it will be ten years since she left so I'm going to struggle.

Anyway the point is, I was worried about tonight but it ended up going really well. I had a good time. I was sitting at the end of the table at one point; half of us were talking about using Pop Rocks in certain ways to our advantage and after a bit of that I paused to check what the other end of the table which included the two moms were disucssing, and as it turned out the subject was dating older men which is what I'm currently trying to do.

It was an odd but good minute of my life.

Song of the day: "Monster" by Kanye West et all.

Good Modest Mouse song: Heart Cooks Brain.

Word count: 10922.
Should be at: 11662. There's useful tools on the website to inform me that at this rate I will finish on December 3rd. Hey, smart ass website, some of us have two jobs and aren't made of time!

That's pretty creepy though, 50,000 words. What if my idea isn't 50,000 words worth? What if I get to my end (because I actually do know how it ends) and I'm like 20,000 words short? I'll have to go back and pad it. But I guess it's not national write a novella month. It's good to force myself though. Part of me tonight thought, well, I don't know what to write. I have chunks of it figured out and I thought about cheating and writing one of those. But then that seemed like a terrible idea. So it's good to force myself. And I don't feel like what I ended up writing was terrible. It wasn't screaming "You're just writing words to write words!" at me. It moreso ended up being things I hadn't thought about. It's fun to create relationships between people.

I went out for dinner with my friends Kate and Brett tonight. They're having a baby this week and I'm beside myself. They're going to be awesome parents. Also, as anyone who has had a conversation with me knows, I love kids. Kids and puppies. And they will soon have both!

To dye for, or: not a bang-up job.

Word count: 8,178.
Short of projected word count: 152.
Things I need to do before I can justify popping in a Gossip Girl DVD: Wash dishes, unpack my clothes.

As I texted Leah, I can see why writers like Bukowski and the like mix drinking and writing. Since I opened a bottle of wine (I was only going to have half of it then switch to beer; it's at slightly less than half now) and started cooking and eating and writing the words started to tumble in. I attribute this partly to the fact that I've had the outline for this in my head for well over a year now (so, so lazy, but in my defense I let myself fall apart in a destructive relationship then took awhile to build it back up) and partly to the fact that...actually I'm not sure where I was going with that. I've had over half a bottle of wine and I'm still trying to beat a guy out of my brain. That's part of the story of my life. I worry that since I have the story all figured out that it will end up writing itself but doing so halfway through the month and then I will be trying to flesh it out in terrible, shlocky ways.

In an attempt to reclaim my annoyingly waivering confidence the past few days, I decided to dye my hair red. The cycles of my hair are two-fold: One, I growit out and out and out until I get fed up, chop it, keeping chopping it then get nostaglic and start growing it out; two, it's brown, I get bored and dye it dark brown; I change my mind and try to make it light brown, I start to question everything then realize it's time to dye it red; I get bored again and try to dye it back to dark brown.

So we're in a red cycle. Only I didn't do so awesome of a job. I didn't do so hot namely on the bangs. So really it looks like I have burgundy hair with brown highlights. But ever since I got the bangs and started growing it out I'm desperate to come off as mod in a punk way, not a hipster way. Though I will forever associate me getting despearte enough to go red with Angela Chase. And the fact that I did not such a great job reminds me of the time that my mom insisted I could never dye it correctly and that she'd do it for me, so I said fine, I get to pick the color which is how I ended up in my parents' kitchen with some box of reddish purple hair dye, yelling at my mom who was laughing and laughing because for all of her insistence that I couldn't dye my hair alone she had managed to get it all over the place when she did it for me.

Chance of me caring that this is ramlbling: Zero.
Chanc of me proofreading it before I post it and then going to unpack my clothes: See previous answer.
Number of times I listend to "Runaway" by Kanye West while typing this: Two and counting.

How others describe me

Word count: 6192.
Should be at: 6664.

I had to write a first date scene and it was sort of annoying because I'm sad about a boy. But I always get sad about boys so it was a good stretch of the imagination to try to write a positive interaction between a boy and a girl as opposed to the normal depressed shit I would normally write. It's good of me to formulate a dysfunctional yet functioning love story. I can save the angsty things for the poetry. One day I want to publish a book of poems that's entirely about boys. That shouldn't be too hard since my basic body of work consists of boys, my dead mother, religion, and my hard, hard life. That's a possible title for an anthology of my work. But that's decades down the line. (For the record I don't actually believe that I have a hard, hard life, but I would need to work the depressing high school material in there somewhere.)

My friend Shawn and I were discussing how people first come off to each other and impressions. I asked him what impression I give off? and he said that I seem approachable, yet judgmental. I was actually really pleased with that because that's exactly what I am. That's pretty up there in my list of off beat compliments. I've also always enjoyed the girl who told me that I was pretty enough to be a crack model.

It was touching because she was really prissy and that was her being sincere.

My favorite compliments are two things that my dad said about me. One is that I may have trouble finding a guy who can handle me because I have so much personality. I try to remember that when I'm sad about an idiot becuase I would rather be myself and on my own then supressing myself to get along with some half-wit who's not cool enough for me. The other thing was something he said to a higher up at one of my jobs that he had just met and she couldn't quite place who he was talking about (I, of course, can't stand her) and he said that I have dark hair and flashing eyes.

So someday I'll be able to have a good first date scene of my own.
Until then, I have character to do it for me, I suppose.

I unpacked my kitchen.

Word count: 4463. This is 535 words short of where I should be on Day 3. But I figured I shouldn't rigidly follow it. Yet still I calculate. I fell way short yesterday but I had to vote (why everyone else in the world didn't also vote angers me) and give blood. I don't mind giving blood. The guy who took it was the same guy as when I went last time. Whenever I have my blood pressure taken I remember when I was 15 and in day treatment for depression. They took our blood pressure like, twice every day which made no sense to me. I was there for mental health, not actual health. I suppose it was nice for them to care about my physical health since I wanted nothing to do with myself. Anyway, my point (I have one) was that I shouldn't get down on myself if I don't make 1666 words everyday. And since the days of multiple blood pressure I prefer to not get down on myself. Besides I need to leave a large chunk of missing words for the end of the month so I can freak out about the deadline.

Today at work my office mate had to close her door for a meeting. I then, of course, had to go to the bathroom about five minutes later so I kept waiting for my boss to come back from lunch. Of course when she did everything in the free world started happening so I couldn't get away and then by the time she came back in, the coffee delivery guy had come and she knows me well enough to know that I would not be leaving the office until he was gone.
She's a good boss.

Oh, sure, I can EASILY do this!

My friend Leah suggested that we participate in National Novel Writing Month. Since I'm tying myself for the titles of "Laziest Writer" and "No, really, I'm going to start doing something with my writing Writer" this seemed like as good a starting point as any. I wrote 1,763 words today; to reach the goal of 50,000 you need to average about 1,666 words a day. (Number irony noted.) I'm working with an idea I've been mulling for honestly years now so it started fairly quickly. I highly doubt it's going to go that smoothly over the course of the entire month so I'm not going to let myself believe that it will.

As I also informed Leah earlier, I ate a huge donut at about 10:30 A.M. and then wasn't as hungry for lunch, but don't want to be a lunch skipper, so I bought a green apple and a bottle of Naked Blue Juice. While eating and drinking these as we worked on the crossword at lunch as we normally do, I looked at the bottle and saw that part of its ingredients were 3 and one fourth apples. Which means in the span of 2 hours I consumed one donut and 4 and one fourth apples.

Advice for the day: I don't recommend doing that.