Meh

I worked a double today at the restaurant so I have little to nothing to offer. I'm not really sure if writing two sentences counts as a blog post but what can you do.

Sweet nothings

The thing about writing everyday is what you have nothing to write about? Like I feel like this should be interesting to read, or relevant, or have something do with writing. But I got nothing. Nothing! Is it better to write random nothing or write nothing at all?

I'm guessing random nothing. Even if no one reads it. Maybe no one should read it! And yet I am putting it on a blog. Good times.

I don't have much to contribute sadly. But at least I'm trying, I suppose.

My dad got me a fountain pen. They're pretty cool to write with. Actually I did write something today besides this, I just didn't write it here. So that's something I suppose. Longhand writing.

Dreckitude

I discovered a Top Model marathon of a season I haven't seen yet. I didn't have anything else planned for the day beyond the doctor appointment I already went to so here I am. Watching Top Model. I will probably bust out the Vogue and Elle I haven't finished yet while I'm watching it. I love things about fashion. If I could pick one magazine to be published in it would totally be Vogue.

People are always surprised about that side of me, I guess because a good amount of the time I run around in tank tops and hoodies and jeans or skirts depending on the weather. And I don't look very glam, I know. If I had the means to rock an awesome wardrobe from cool designers I would be all about it. And as I've told several people, all I want out of life is a Burberry trench coat. Well, you know, and other things. But that's up there.

Maybe I could be an unfashioned fashion blogger.

Back in the saddle I wasn't really in.

Well, a year has passed.


OK. A year hasn't passed. But it sounded dramatic. And right as I finished typing it the rain picked up.

OK it was actually several seconds later that the rain picked up. It's not a dark and stormy night.
But a lot has changed. The last time that I wrote here I had an apartment, two jobs, and I was single. But on the verge of not for the last one. Now I live in a house with my boyfriend and I have one job. Two out of three good things is good, right? Right. (The job I do have, not so awesome.)

Now the question is, has she gotten any further on her writing? Augh. Of course not. I did submit the manuscript but, clunk. I also entered (at the very last second of course) a poetry contest that my friend Traci sent me a link to for a British mag that publishes work by women. It's called myslexia, how great is that? And one of the poems that I sent in was about a guy from England! Hello! Anyway. That could possibly fan out. Maybe.

So here we are, in our unpacked messy house. And I have decided that this month is going to be...wait for it...Blogust. (I like to name things.) I have to blog every day this month. Even if it's about absolutely nothing. Back in the habit of writing every day. (Like that was something I did once, of course, in a magical land, far away.) And maybe look into other places to submit poems in the meantime. And maybe write that novel...OK. Let's start with blogging every day.

Sadly this isn't an exciting first post to start with but what can you do, really.
Now I'm going to wait for my boyfriend to get home and read my November novel while I wait. Because oh yes, I never finished reading that either.

Motivation isn't really my thing apparently. Maybe I'll take it up as a hobby.

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.