Amazing

Adorableness

I just wanted to share this.  I just found this picture on a flashdrive, and I think this is my favorite picture from the whole beach experience.  Definitely my favorite picture of Rachel, anyway.  And since Rachel never checks my blog anymore (haha), I didn't think she'd mind.

Just Because

Oh boy

I went to my dad's company's Christmas party tonight, and it was really fun. We sat at a table with some of my dad's friends and this new guy, this intern.

He's 23 I think, an electrical engineering major. He graduates next quarter. I never caught his name, but oh boy.

I've got a crush.

I don't even know his name.

Cool

Just saw "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," and I would officially like for someone to purchase me that movie as a christmas present.

=)

It's really funny

guess that celebrity

Rachel will know this one immediately, but I wonder if anyone can guess---who is that yummy man playing with magic?

Umm so yummy. haha

Funny and Useful Latin Phrases

"Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam."
- I have a catapult. Give me all the money, or I will fling an enormous rock at your head.

"Sentio aliquos togatos contra me conspirare."
- I think some people in togas are plotting against me

"Caesar si viveret, ad remum dareris."
- If Caesar were alive, you'd be chained to an oar.

"Recedite, plebes! Gero rem imperialem!"
- Stand aside plebians! I am on imperial business.

"Vacca foeda"
- Stupid cow

"Raptus regaliter"
- Royally screwed

"Utinam barbari spatium proprium tuum invadant!"
- May barbarians invade your personal space!

Insomnia take 800,000

I have a theory about something that might contribute to my inability to sleep.

I ALWAYS have to know what time it is. Like, not approximately, not rounding up or down, i have to know exactly what time it is, pretty much every other minute or so. I check my phone constantly, which i know sounds pretty insane seeing as time moves at a steady rate.

Ask Rachel, I'm sure this got pretty damn annoying freshman year, in the morning, i'd ask her what time it was. for the first few weeks, she'd round up or down to the nearest half-hour. but she quickly learned that rounding isn't good enough. I need the exact time, down to the minute. For instance, right now it is 1:32 am. I would not be satisfied if someone told me it was 1:30 right now. Don't know why, but it's one of the things I fixate on. I wonder if that's part of the problem--the fact that i always know what time it is, so i have a hard time letting go of that awareness. Even when I'm laying in bed at night not sleeping, I check my phone every couple minutes, just to see how much time has passed since the last time I checked.

I realize out crazy this all sounds, but this is my way of talking it out. I just wonder if this has something to do with my inability to let go of what's in my mind and just let sleep take over.

ps

New Year's Resolution #1 - Stop Worrying So Much About Time!!

Quote of the day/week/year

-"You can learn from failure."
-"I did learn from failure. I learned I don't like it."

Can I go back now?

At least my insomnia-ridden nights in athens pass peacefully....here, I got inexplicably sick, like REALLY sick, throwing up and everything. wtf? So now I'm not only wide awake, I'm also nauseous and shaking, and bored.

Not cool, Canal Winchester. Not cool.

Oh My God

The new South Park from this past wednesday just made my week. I missed it Wednesday, so I just watched it, and WOW. It was so funny. If you're a Twilight fan, a South Park fan, or a general fan of brilliant satirical humor, please watch it. You can find it here:

http://www.surfthechannel.com/episode/198/142956.html

or I'm sure www.comedycentral.com has it somewhere.

Four Hour Delay

Rachel and I have worked out a good way to explain my insomnia. My brain is four hours behind. When it's midnight, my brain seems to think it's eight. That's why, at 4 a.m, I start to get a little tired, because hey, it's only midnight! If I'm not asleep by 6, I start to get a little loopy, because it's 2, and it's time to go to bed!

Then I get up at noon (eight, my time), and repeat. Ugh. It's exhausting.

I have a final today. Super. (And excerpt from "Cai"!)

I should be studying, or at least sleeping. But sleeping? Ha. That's a joke. An earlier conversation with Rachel should underline my point:

me: "You're going to bed? It's only midnight."
her: "Yeah, well, I only got three hours of sleep last night. I'm tired."
me: "I live on too little sleep. Last night I-"
her: "You're an insomniac! You don't count."

haha. I guess she has a point, though. So here I am, three a.m., trying to sleep and it's a big FAIL. but hey, a plus for anyone who cares: I'm gonna put up, in this post, an excerpt from the project I'm working on. I'm calling it "Cai" (pronounced 'ky') at the moment; that's the name of the main character.

This scene is in the first couple pages of the book, and it really sets a tone--a dark, almost scary (i hope) tone--early on. Please give me feedback on what you think, and go easy on me...I just wrote this, and it has been edited 0%. It's pretty graphic and bloody, and if it grosses you out or scares you, that means i did my job.

Just as Cai began to believe she was mistaken, that this strange man meant nothing, she saw him blink.

The man blinked, and blood ran down from his eyes like tears.

Cai couldn’t make a sound. She watched in silent horror as the man opened his mouth as if to scream. Blood dribbled over his lips and ran in steady rivulets down his neck. She didn't feel like she was still breathing. Why wasn’t anyone else seeing this? Why didn’t she see the look of horror mirrored on other faces? She couldn’t move.

The man in the doorway took a lurching step toward her. He smiled. No, he grinned. The blood colored his teeth red. He started coughing, but he didn’t lose his grin. Blood sprayed with each breath, with each cough, but he kept on grinning.

His hand came slowly up from his side, and he pointed at Cai. A knife was suddenly in his hand.

That’s when she started screaming.

She closed her eyes and let the built-up scream escape from her choked lungs. She opened her eyes. His face was inches from hers. He was still grinning. His breath smelled like stale smoke buried under a pool of blood.

Cai opened her mouth to scream again just as the maniac buried his knife to the hilt in the side of her neck. Her scream came out as a gurgled moan.

“Cai!" She heard her name called from far away; it was too late. She knew that. Someone else had finally noticed the bloody maniac, but now it was too late.

“Cai!”

She choked on her own blood. She coughed trying to speak. Blood dribbled over her lip in a horrible reflection of her killer. The man. The bloody man. Cai started to float.

“Cai! Come on!”

She decided to open her eyes one last time to try to say goodbye to the voice. Lily, it was probably Lily. It was always Lily.

Cai opened her eyes.

No bloody man. No knife. A classroom. Students, all staring at her. Lily—it was always Lily—was there, shaking her arm and saying her name over and over.

A dream. Oh, God, it was all a dream.

Feedback would be great, peoples! Thanks!

Watching the sunrise

I think I'm gonna stay up to watch the sunrise today. It's 5:00 am, and I looked it up; the sun rises at 6:43 here today, and I know there's no way I'm gonna fall asleep between now and then. I think I'm gonna walk out on the bike path, all bundled up because it's friggin freezing outside, and just watch the sun come up. It'll be nice.

I'm so sick of not being able to sleep. Today's program is explainable--yesterday morning I slept until almost three pm, because I had a headache. But even then I didn't go to sleep until almost seven.

My sleep clock is just not right. I try to go to bed at midnight; best case scenario, I take an Ambien and fall asleep by three. That's, like, amazing case scenario, because three is early for me at this point. Four is more reasonable, and five is normal. That's ON the sleeping pills. If I don't take them, I don't sleep at night, and then I take tiny little hour-here-hour-there naps during the day, and then i don't sleep again, and blah blah blah

it's a vicious cycle.

One good thing that's coming out of this is that I am getting a lot of writing done. I've done about fifteen pages in five days, that's three pages a day...not bad. I really like where the story is taking me, and where the characters are going. It's such a great feeling, just creating these people and saying, "Okay, here, go!" and they really do pull you along. It's great.

Okay, I'm gonna go do something to fill my time while I wait for the sun to rise.

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

Oh. My. God.

If you like Joss Whedon, Nathan Fillion, and Neil Patrick Harris, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE check this out:

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog.

I found the whole thing on Hulu...it's amazing. It's a 40-or-so minute musical about Dr. Horrible (Harris), an aspiring super-villain. Captain Hammer (Fillion) thwarts him at every turn, and believe me, hilarity (and surprisingly good music) ensue.

AMAZING!

Update

I've got a new project I'm working on, hopefully it turns into a novel. I've written about ten pages in two days, which is pretty damn productive. It always slows down in the middle, but I'm just happy I've got something to work on again!

Why, just look at the time!

I am insomnia's bitch

UGH.

This is getting ridiculous.

4:34 am. Wide awake, looking to drive to florida. or virginia. any takers?

Sound Familiar?

"I can’t help but to write, I have an inner need for it. If I’m not in the middle of some literary project, I’m utterly lost, unhappy and distressed. As soon as I get started, I calm down."

Thank you Rachel

I was talking to Rachel the other night about how my writing is like BLOCKED and how I was getting kind of stressed out about it. I told her that I had a project that I'd written almost 40-50 pages on, but then I'd just stopped. She said that I might not like hearing this, but she thought that the best thing I could do was just take the best things out of that, and start over. She said that maybe if I tried to do the same thing in a different way, it might trigger something that will work. At the time I said, yeah, yeah, uh-huh, i'll try.

But I did that tonight. I started thinking about my most recent failed project, a book called "Sacrifice." I've always really loved the plot, and it would be an intense thriller if I did it right. So I pretty much just started free thinking, writing down anything that came to mind that i thought might be cool, and I came up with something that I'm really excited to start writing. It's very different, but it keeps the basics of the plot intact while making the main character more likable and the deaths more sudden and upsetting. I can't wait!

So thank you to Rachel for listening to me bitch about not being able to write, and thank you for your very wise advice.

Woo-hoo, i think the writing machine is back in order!

Augusten Burroughs

I just love this excerpt from "Dry," a memoir by Augusten Burroughs:

"There's no traffic on the way home. The sunroof is open and I have my head in Foster's lap, looking up at the sky. It's so clear and black, with tiny pricks of white everywhere. You don't see stars in the city. It's easy to forget they even exist. The last time I saw stars was in rehab. These look very different from the rehab stars. And immediately, I know why. Stars should not be seen alone. That's why there are so many. Two people should stand together and look at them. One person alone will surely miss the good ones."

Is it just me...

Is it just me, or is this fucking terrifying?

YouTube - Baby Laugh-a-Lot Commercial

Yay!

Okay, then

I don't really have much to say, but that I'm happy. Trying to get measurements done, trying to do all my schoolwork, trying to make my friendships work....i feel like it's all going well.

I'm happy.

I'm writing again (sort of), and that's helped the stress level go down a lot. But I'm reading for fun even though I don't have time, and that chills me out as well.

Just wanted to say hi...I think Chad's phone is dead, so I don't know how we'll be able to coordinate coming to Hburg in a few weeks, but I WANNA! so i don't know. We'll all harass him, and maybe he'll get the point.

My friends rock

I love talking to Chad. Everyone needs a little Chad in their life, I think.

He called me tonight while I was stressing over my French composition, and he told me that he was drinking Blackberry Brandy and Coke....I'm so jealous!

He then made me laugh, and now somehow I'm not stressed anymore. Awesomeness.

Everyone needs a little Chad in their life, I'm telling you. It can do wonders.

Trying to un-stick the stuck

I'm writing a biographie. Wait, I think I just spelled that the French way. Biography. Whatever. You know what I mean.

I realize that I'm twenty, and it doesn't seem that I would have much to say. But I do. It's mostly a cathartic (I just love that word) experience, trying to rid myself of extra stress stuff flitting around in my head. It's kinda cool though; it started as a kind of journal, talking about current problems and frustrations.

Then it morphed. I started writing about my adolescence and why that time was so hard for me. The style is sardonic (not surprising), but I did kind of surprise myself in some ways. It's a lot more...honest than I expected it to be. I thought, since I write fiction, I would be inclined to fabricate, to make things more interesting. I haven't really done that so far. I've been honest, even if the honesty really hurts.

Here's an excerpt of said honesty:

"What I'm about to say may not sound fair; it may even sound harsh. But I have a hard time remembering those years [high school] without bitterness invading my words and leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

For awhile I truly believed that she could get better; she just didn’t want to. Sometimes I think I still believe that. I’m not sure. But what matters is that I very much resented her. After awhile I started resenting everyone. I resented my father for not saying enough or, more often, for saying the wrong thing. I resented my brother because he left for college in the middle of all this, when we (I) needed him most. I realize now that Alan had to leave. I would have done the exact same thing were I in his shoes, but I couldn’t see that at the time. The only thing I could see was him driving away without so much as a glance in the rearview."

There are things I don't think I'll be able to write about, but I'm going to try. This could turn into something; it could remain a prolonged journal entry. Either way, I think it's gonna be good for the heart.

Just Look at the Time...

"Sleep makes a mockery of me. " There. There's my life in six words, and I'm pretty proud if I do say so myself.

Sleep makes a mockery of me. I don't even try anymore. There's the pills that I take, which have stopped working, and there are exercises and stuff, ways to breathe, stuff like that, that have never worked.

My mind will not stop talking.

That's the problem, right there. It's just going, and going, and going. Even if I have no external stimuli, it's all internal for me anyways. There's always something going on in my head, and i usually want to get up and write it down, and then nine times out of ten whatever i wrote down ends up being useless when i'm reading it the next day, so i end up tossing it out anyway.

yay.

so here's my four am rant, as i lay AWAKE and silent.

Sleep makes a mockery of me.

How can I make it stop??

Down two sizes

Some little good news to report...I bought new jeans yesterday, and they were two sizes smaller than shorts I bought six months ago and one size smaller than jeans I bought about three months ago. I'm pretty excited. Mostly I haven't been doing anything different than what I was before except that I'm walking more, and I'm not eating as much.

I'm not eating as much because I'm not "bored-eating." That's always been my big problem; when I'm bored or stressed, I eat. I'm still doing a little bit of the stress eating, but I've pretty much stopped the bored eating. If I'm bored I find something else to do; I'm not writing much these days, which is boosting some of the stress eating, but I find something else to do. Take a walk, go watch some intramural football, or read a book.

I'm trying, anyways. I don't know.

This weekend I'm looking to have a Buffy-fest and an international beer-tasting evening with Chad.

I'm looking forward to that.

Writing is...

"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." ~ E.L. Doctorow

"The only cure for writer's block is insomnia." ~ Merit Antares

"I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all." ~ Richard Wright

"Being an author is like being in charge of your own personal insane asylum." ~ Graycie Harmon

Writer's Block...still

I hate this feeling. I wouldn't call it "writer's block" so much as "idea block." It's not like I can't write. I can edit, the creative process is still flowing. It's just that I am officially "between projects." There's no way I can explain how much I hate that feeling. I'm waiting for my prior project to be editing by my loyal personal editors, and I've got NOTHING in my head to start.

It drives me crazy.

Well, that's not true. Wait, yeah, it does drive me crazy. That part's true. The part about having NOTHING in my head isn't quite true. There's an idea there...something that may even, one day, be decent. But for some reason it just won't come. I don't do that thing where you stare at the blinking cursor on the page---that's just depressing. But i brainstorm long-hand, and even when I look over the notes I made a couple of months ago, I don't really feel anything for it.

For anyone who knows me really well, they know how strange that is for me. Usually when I have a new project, especially notes on a new project, I get excited. I want to start, I want to pursue, I want to write. Sometimes it's slow-going, but it's going all the same.

Not now, though. Oh, no, it's just...standing still. The idea is there, but for some reason it won't move.

Ugh. I don't really know how to explain it; it's just getting frustrating.

Anyone got any ideas for something short, like a short story or an essay? Or novel ideas are always welcome...

Success!

Wow, talk about using my R&I (resource and initiative, something my dad says when he doesn't feel like helping with something). I got a new wireless router today because ours SUCKED and the installation CD was defective, so I had to find a way to install the software and do the security stuff and blah blah....

I ended up using one of those live chat thingys with the tech support at Linksys and now we have a nice, fast, WORKING router.

Knowing my luck it'll start acting up any time now, but for the moment I'm a happy camper.

Self-Explanatory

Perspective

"I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason,
Bringing something we must learn.
And we are lead to those who help us most to grow
If we let them, and we help them in return.

Well I don't know if I believe that's true.
But I know I'm who I am today because I knew you.

Like a comet pulled from orbit, as it passes the sun.
Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood.
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

It well may be that we will never meet again in this lifetime
so let me say before we part, so much of me
is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me like hand print on my heart.

And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend."

Dunno. Just kind of needed these words tonight, I guess. Something sentimental and sappy but true.



(toujours idem)

Done?

I think I'm done with Shades of Grey. Like, really done. I might have some narratives to add here and there, but I think it's about as good as it's gonna get. I need to have some people edit it (if they have time/if they care), and after that it's out to the agents.

Oh, good lord. Agents.

Ugh. I haven't started writing anything new because I keep starting things and then realizing how much they suck. I have an idea brewing, but it's not a thriller. I need to see if I can get an agent off of a thriller--if that's the case, the next book may also have to be a thriller. I don't want to get really invested in a project I won't be able to finish.

The idea I've been rolling around for awhile is a Young Adult theme, and I think I'd really like to do it. But like I said, I don't want to start it and then not be able to finish it. I guess this quarter would be the time to do it because I only have two classes, but I don't know. It just doesn't feel right to start it yet, and therefore I'm left bored and stressed.

I need a new project, like a short story or a collection of essays. Something short, something I could do in like a month. Any ideas?

Insomnia take three hundred and twelve

ugh. I'm starting this post at 3:16 am. Super nifty keen! Thank God I don't have class on Thursdays until noon.

I think my ear infections are coming back full-force. I was hopeful earlier today, but this evening I started feeling some very familiar pressure in my left ear. I don't know. I hope that's not the case, but we'll see.

*I had some kind of epiphany this evening. And it was....drum roll, please....

My big brother is getting married.

dah-duh-dah!!!

Now, i know i should have realized this a long time ago, but it's just now starting to feel real. It's so crazy! He's my big brother! We share music and get in fights and call each other bad names. He's the only person on this planet that can truly get under my skin, and I hope I'm one of the people on this planet that he truly trusts.

It's just so weird. Alan...married? wow. But the up side of this is HUGE. Most little sisters worry about losing their big brothers to their new brides, or that they'll be shoved behind or always thought of as the little sister. I'm not really worried about any of that. I love Emma to death, and I hope she already considers me a sister or a friend, not just her fiance's little sister. I'm actually pretty sure she already does.

Alan and Emma, well...they complete each other. Without getting too Jerry McGuire on you here, let me explain. I can't imagine Alan being with anyone else. And after twenty years of watching him be with people, Em's the only one that really...fits. He's truly happy with her, and that's something I've never really seen before. He's himself, and he's happy. It's amazing. If true love exists (which I sometimes doubt), then it exists in this relationship.

I couldn't be happier for my brother or for the wonderful woman he's marrying.

I don't know how this post took that sentimental bent. I guess I just started really thinking about it today, and how weird it's going to be for awhile. But, hey, I'll get to be an aunt some day! I think I'll make a good aunt. (Or, if it's a ginger...haha)

Okay, done with the sentimental crap. I just wish i could sleep.

Sign Language and French are going well, though my sign prof grades really really tough. I worked hard on this presentation and got a 42/50 on it, which isn't terrible, but it isn't exactly great, either. It's just tough. I'll feel bad if I don't make As in all TWO of my classes, but I'm trying not to stress myself out about it. I'm still sick, so I'm just trying to get back on track.

I suppose I should at least pretend to sleep since I have to get up in like seven hours.

143 idem

I think Rachel might appreciate this...

"Because the roads that we take can confine us or set us free,
Make your path, don't you break.
Just need to get away, and you've been so tied up with your life,
Take a break from it,
Or you won't last."

I love it. The Scene Aesthetic has some great lyrics.

Cool. Cool.

It was a good night. That was fun.

We need to do that more often.

Politicians = Useless

I tried to make it through the debate. I really did. But they just talk, and talk, and talk, but they aren't actually saying anything. It's irritating.

I think I'm gonna do that early voting option and vote tomorrow. Don't know yet, but it seems like the easy thing to do, especially since I'm voting absentee.

I'm just kind of bored, and I'm stalling from editing. I'm STILL changing it from past to present tense, but I'm almost done. It's probably the most tedious thing I've ever done, and it's hard to get the motivation going.

My short story, December, was rejected (finally!) for an anthology. I say finally because I've been expecting it since...oh, June. Apparently the reason it took so long is that there were two or three stages the stories had to go through to be chosen. I guess December got past the first stage, which is cool, and it got to the editors, but they rejected it. I'm not at all surprised, but it is kind of disheartening. But whatever, I'm just gonna keep this one in my notebook just like the 40-some others, and one day I'm gonna look back and shrug when I have SOMETHING published.

Words of Wisdom

"When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn."

~Harriet Beecher Stowe

I have no idea.

I feel kind of lost in all of this. I've been really REALLY sick for the past couple of weeks--like, out of class, in and out of hospitals, can't get off the couch sick--but i'm finally getting better. Long story short, I had middle and outer ear infections in both ears which caused my entire immune system to essentially shut down on me. Enter fevers, nausea, and some of the worst pain i've ever experience.

Moving on. I'm getting back to classes now, and I'm WAY behind. I started the quarter with 17 hours, and I actually had to drop two of my classes because I knew there was no way in hell I'd be able to catch up. Now I only have 8 hours, which sounds nice, but is actually kind of stressful. Don't ask.

Personally, I really love where I'm at right now. I love my apartment, I love my roommate (even if she is apparently--unbeknown to me--having second thoughts about her entire life right now), and I'm really happy with myself personally. I'm having some iffy thoughts about where my professional life might be going--teacher, translator, fuck school i wanna be a writer--but those things don't stress me out as much as they probably should. I figure I've got time. I'll stress later.

I feel like such a terrible friend sometimes. I can't even fucking cook dinner right, and the only thing i've really made food-wise since we've been in the apartment is cookies. Not from scratch. Oh, no. Cookies from a roll. Oh, and I cooked bacon once. Look at me, Rachel Ray. And I just feel like I don't, i don't know, like i don't enough. Like maybe I don't listen enough or i'm not considerate enough or i talk too much. Or I play the TV too loud. Or...I don't know. I just feel like some of her turmoil over life and school and everything...I just wish I'd known. I wish she would have talked to me. But I feel like maybe I somehow discouraged her talking to me, or I just wasn't paying attention. I talk to her every day, she's the closest friend to me in the world right now...but do we talk? I mean, really, about important stuff? My first, automatic answer would be yes, but recently I've kind of started to question that.

I don't know.

But I'm happy. I really am. I'm working on editing and FINALLY finishing "Shades of Grey" so i can send it out so it can get rejected, and I think I'm going to start another short story soon. Sign Language is hard but going well and French is, of course, amazing.

I think it's weird that all day I've been missing Emma and Annie. (Is it weird that I kind of miss Em more than I do my own brother? Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Dunno. I miss Alan, too, but I can't talk to Alan like I can to Emma. He's not a girl. =)) Kind of a strange, random thing to say, but it's been bugging me. I just miss them, I guess. But with one planning her wedding (YAY!) and the other starting her first year at college, there probably won't be much visiting time for any of us in the near future. But I'm gonna try to make it happen.

Sorry for the complete randomness of this post. It's late and I'm, of course, not at all tired.

Thanks for reading if you actually made it all the way through.

Ouch

the surgery went well. he said the nerve was irritated, and it needed to be moved. i might have to miss more classes than i thought, because the only time i'm not in pain is when i'm zonked out on percocet.

just wanted everyone to know that everything went well, and as rachel would say, "yay! you're not dead!"

haha

Wish Me Luck!

I have surgery tomorrow (Monday), on my elbow, AGAIN. So everyone wish me luck!

I'll get back on sometime later in the week to let everyone know how it went.

me

No Title.

**********************************************************************

Everything East of the San Andreas Fault will eventually plunge into the Atlantic Ocean.

**********************************************************************

Sorry. That just made me happy, and i thought i ought to share. Haha. It was on my Murphy's Law poster, and it cracks me up, it's so random.

Murphy's law kind of fits my mood right now--whatever can go wrong, will--because exactly one week from this moment, I'm going to recuperating from what the call "major" surgery. I don't call it that, because it's outpatient, and I'm sorry, but anything that they can do in the hospital and then send you home four hours later can't be that "major."

I'm not that worried about it, really, I just hope it fucking works this time. It just makes me nervous, going under anesthesia...dunno, not being awake, a bunch of people around me..it just makes me nervous. Waking up from it always sucks too, because there for a second you're thinking, "Wow, this is the worst pain of my life, and by the way, where in the FUCK am I?" But then they give you the good drugs and all the pain fades away.

So i don't know. I guess i'm feeling verbose tonight because i can't sleep (huge surprise) and I REALLY don't want to get this surgery. It's going to interrupt with my classes, and I have a hard time imagining how i'm going to sign left-handed for two weeks. Rachel's right, i'm sure people do it all the time, but it's hard! haha. I just don't want to learn a new way to do something i already know how to do.

I don't think that made any sense for those of you who don't speak Cathy out there, but the rest of you survived it intact, i'm sure.

My room is starting to look like someone actually lives here now, which is nice. Rachel said that it looked at first like a hooker's hotel room, which (while being inaccurate) was almost true. It was just barren, and it really did look like someone's hotel room, hooker or no. So I bought some posters today at the Baker poster sale and now my room looks slightly more alive, and i really like it. Rachel even let me put up a picture of me she took last year. It's actually just of my hands, playing the piano, but it's a really cool pic. It looks good above my bed. I really wanna decorate some of the halls and stuff with some of Rachel's pics, because they really are that good, or at least some of them are (or most). So I think I'm going to buy her some nice printing paper and a fucking magenta 8 cartridge (hers is on the fritz at the moment) and I'd like to decorate some on Wednesday when I only have one class.

Wow. That was quite a run-on sentence. Camus would be proud.

Speaking of Camus, i read 50 pages this evening for homework that's due tomorrow, and I actually finished it. yay! haha. I know, i know...wait, you want recognition for doing what someone asked you to do? Well, yes, actually. That's exactly what i'd like. 50 pages in french is a lot, and on the first day of classes, it's more than a lot. It's downright inconvenient. So yeah. Actually did it.

Okay, I'm running out of steam here, which is probably the reason the last couple of paragraphs are full of misspelled gibberish.

I'll try to sleep some,

hope idem!

me

0323 (3:23am)...way too early

We're in the apartment, we're all moved in (and only mostly unpacked), and I love it. That's pretty much all I've got to say tonight other than: "I hate being an insomniac." But i guess that doesn't come as a shock to most of you. haha.

I'll talk to y'all later.

me

Excerpt

I was editing just now, and I thought that maybe some of you would like to read an excerpt of my newest book, "Shades of Grey." I've been talking about it on here, and I thought some of you might want to get a taste of what I've been talking about.

Also, I've been royally bitching about editing, mostly editing the tenses. The book was originally written in past tense, but since I've started really going back and fixing it, I realized it's so much more personable in present tense. So now I'm going back and painstakingly changing everything into present tense.

The excerpt I'm giving you is still in the original past tense, so you'll see what I'm going through, changing it to the present.

Enjoy!

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and back up onto the window. I took three more quick shots, my shot-group surprisingly tight despite the fact that I couldn’t brace my weapon.

Three more men went down. Their friends yelled in rage and the onslaught of bullets started once more. The throb in my left hand was almost unbearable. I was bleeding more than I’d first thought—there was a puddle of blood on the carpet beneath me. I grabbed the pillow off the bed and ripped the pillowcase away. I tore a strip off the end and wrapped it around my hand.

I pushed myself up again and fired two shots out the window.

The first shot hit home; the man went down with a scream of pain. In the millisecond between the first and the second shots, something sliced through my right ear.

Flames ate through my earlobe and I felt warm blood running down the side of my neck. I pulled the trigger again and the shot went wild.

I hunched against the wall and flinched when I touched the space where my earlobe used to be. Time to get out of here, I thought. I’m Vincent-fucking-Van Gogh already; I don’t want to lose anymore body parts.

I leaned out the window once more and wasted the last two in the magazine. They both went wild, the throbbing in my head and hand distracting me.

I reloaded the magazine on the way to the bathroom. Bullets were still hitting the front of the building, shattering the tiny amount of glass that hadn’t already been shattered.

As I crawled out the bathroom window, I heard a new voice screaming in pain and a half-smile lit my face. Maybe my last shots hadn’t gone as wild as I’d thought.

Hope you enjoyed it!

Please comment on it...feedback is absolutely necessary in the editing process!

Thanks!

Canal Winchester Blues

I'm really ready to get out of here. I loved Clarskburg, and I loved hanging with Rachel and her family, and I'm really pissed I came home a day early. Haha. I wasn't feeling well, so I guess I'm glad I came home, but I don't wanna be home. If you know what i mean, though i think nothing I'm saying makes much sense.

I guess I just can't wait to move into the apartment. WOOOO

We have so much stuff to move in, and we're looking for all the help we can get, so anyone who's going to be around in Athens on Sept. 5, gimme a call and maybe you can find some big strong men to help us out.

I finished reading this book tonight, called, "Anthem of a Reluctant Prophet," and it was one of those rare books that I really didn't want it to end. That's really rare for me. Usually about three quarters of the way through I know how it's going to end and even if it's a great book, I'm kind of ready to move on to the next. But not so on this one. I actually read it slower so I could make it last longer, haha. It's a young adult book, and it's amazing, and it deals with some very deep stuff in a way that makes it easy to read. Deals with death, life, religion, lust, sex, and, well, mostly death. But it's amazing. The only other book that has recently made me do that--that "hey, it's over already!?"--was John Green's "Looking for Alaska." So yeah, if anyone is looking for an interesting, entertaining read, go for Joanne Proulx's "Anthem of a Reluctant Prophet."

Don't know why I felt like giving you a book review there, but there you go. haha. I suppose I should try to get some sleep now, even though we all know how that usually turns out.

Hope the rest of the world sleeps well!

night!

Shifting Focus

I've been so focused on thrillers recently; I've lived, breathed, and EDITED my thriller so much that I'm so sick of it. After I finish editing and sending out "Shades of Grey", I think I want to be done with thrillers for awhile.

I'm really getting into young adult literature, and I feel like, at least for now, I could really fit into that genre. I'm reading a lot of YA books to get a feel of the authors and the themes, and I feel like I could definitely do it. My short story, "Five," is technically young adult, and my new project that I WANT to be working on instead of editing Shades, it's YA too.

I'm kind of worried right now, too, because my mom thinks I might have PCOS. I don't really feel like going into it, but if you want to know what it is, look it up. I'm sick of people trying to diagnose me when I don't feel like anything is wrong with me.

Yes, I'm overweight. I'm trying to work on that.

No, I don't sleep well. Also trying to work on that, by getting healthy and eating right.

No, I'm not exactly loving my appearance right now. See #1.

Yes, I've had ovarian cysts.

But come on people, PCOS? Seems like a reach to me. Or, at least, I hope it is.

I refuse to worry about it, because I don't think anything's wrong with me. Yes, I need to work on things. So let me take responsibility for what I've done (or haven't done), and give me the time to fix them.

Don't try to diagnose me. I'm sick of everyone being wrong.

So cute

I just thought this was adorable:

A cool option

My life in six words, a cool possibility.

It's an idea I from a Ludo song, actually, but it's uber-cool.

"There's chaos in everything I touch."

I like that, because chaos can be good or bad, exciting or draining. Sometimes I thrive on chaos, sometimes I hate it.

I think that might be my life in six words.

ps, for those of you who're interested, the actually Ludo lyric is:

"There is catastrophe in everything I touch."

Also cool, but 'catastrophe' definitely has a negative connotation whereas 'chaos' is more ambiguous.



There's chaos in everything I touch.

haha

Thanks Emma and Rachel!

That is all.

haha

I love my job. I think.

I get kicked, spat upon, and hugged. Those certainly seem like mixed messages, no?

Well, then, welcome to the preschool class at Faith Educare.

And I must admit, it's not usually just one kid doing all that stuff. Usually it's one kid doing the kicking and screaming, and another hugging me and trying to make it all better. Some of them are so freaking cute, and then some are little monsters. I suppose that's to be expected.

I don't know what I really expected to put up here, since it seems like no one ever checks this thing now that i'm back in the country. Just wanted to keep y'all updated that i'm working a shit-ton and writing way more than i thought i would be. So that's good.

I guess i'll talk to you guys later.

me

Fun in the Mountains

I got back from Rachel's house tonight, and now I really don't want to go to work tomorrow. Little kids, screaming and running around, greeting me at eight in the morning with loud noises and things being thrown. Oh, goody.

But, yay. This weekend was a lot of fun. Mostly I loved the lake (Oral Lake, believe it or not), and the Yoke family cabin. It exceeded my expectations by far. I was thinking it was this tiny broken down wooden structure. Their cabin is amazing, it's so beautiful, and it looks right out onto the lake.

I told Rachel, it's great having friends who have nice things. Because now i can share said nice things, and not feel like a complete and total moocher. :-)

ttyl me

Scissors Cut

'If they ever drop the bomb,' you said,
'I'll find you in the flames.'
But now we act like people
Who don't know each other's names.

Well, sometimes it makes me sad, you know.
Sometimes it makes me smile.'
Cause you know how the game goes, honey.
We all eat it once in awhile.

Scissors cut, paper covers rock
Breaks the shining scissor
You hurt me
I hurt her and she goes and we will miss her

Now, I look around at people
Playing children's games.
And I wonder if you're still thinking
You might find me somewhere in the flames.

Scissors cut, paper covers rock
Breaks the shining scissor
You hurt me
I hurt her and she goes and we will miss her

I challenge you all

So here's something fun for everyone to do...

Describe your life in six words. That's all. Just six words, and use them to describe your existence on this earth.

My personal favorite example:

"Discovered bad brakes at high speed."

Post them on here as responses or post them on your own blog, or ignore the challenge if you wish. I figured it would be a fun project.

Already? Wow, that was fast

So...got my first rejection today.

Not my first, actually. It's more like my fourtieth or something like that, but this is the first via the conference.

Don't care. It's disappointing, dejecting, depressing, and all those other "d" words, yeah. That's true. But...don't care. I'm twenty. I've got plenty of room to work, plenty more times to be rejected. I've also got plenty of time to find that one--it only takes one--that one agent who finds my work exciting enough to see what it's all about.

But until then, I'm content to read my rejections and smile. I can wait.

Keep 'em coming, baby. Keep 'em coming.

Whoa

Whoa. Let's say it again, folks. Whoa.

I met maybe...fifteen agents. Only five---5---didn't want anything. The rest of them requested either a couple of chapters, a synopsis, a proposal, and query and the first 75 pages...two even asked for the whole manuscript.

WHOA!

I had no idea I would get this kind of positive response. Even though I know it probably won't go anywhere, it's nice to know that my ideas don't completely suck.

Now it's time to really get down to work; I have a manuscript to perfect, and...oh, two weeks or so (tops) to do it.

And I thought the conference itself was going to be the hard work.

Right.

Writer's Conference

The only negative thing about this trip so far: our hotel is kinda in the ga-hetto, if you know what i mean. The rooms are uber nice (I sat in the WALK-IN closet to talk on the phone...)and we have lots of space to do stuff. The conference was pretty cool today.
Pretty cool, man. I'm probably the youngest person there, which is a little weird, but it's cool. I could take or leave NY city though. Too many people. Waaaay too many people. But everyone at the conference was nice, and....I MET LEE CHILD!!! seriously though....i kinda fangirled (internally) but I was very refined on the outside. He signed my book (WITH MY PEN) and he gave me personal advice on how to pitch a book. WOOOOOO

Here's my pitch (Pitch= your book in 25 words or less):

"After his family is murdered, a killer-for-hire fights to protect the life of a brilliant child while trying to avenge the daughter he lost."


Dunno, but we'll see i suppose. I'm going to be pitching that thing over and over again tomorrow, so we'll see.

Okay, i'm tired and daddy's already snoring, so i guess i'll talk to y'all later!

wish me luck!

idem me

Bool! The End.

Panic climbs, climbs, it surrounds me, it envelopes me. I know this is a panic attack. I know that. I understand that. Somewhere in my brain I know that my wires are crossed; that's why my heart's pounding. My fight or flight response is confused--my body's telling me i'm in danger, making my heart beat way too fast and my body tremble and shake. I've done all the research, I know that my anxiety greatly contributes to my insomnia, and i know that lack of sleep can greatly contribute to anxiety. Great. Fantastic. The circle of hell.

I wish I could just say Bool! Everything is a joke. Everything's fine. I'm not freaking out about a writer's conference, because i don't have a dream as ridiculous as that. I don't have all these doctors appointments because i'm in great shape, and my elbow has never given me a lick of trouble. Right now, this moment, as i breathe way too fast and watch my hands shake as they fly across the keys, i'm not having a panic attack. God, I wish that were true.

Usually I can talk my way out of a panic attack, but seeing as it's almost two in the morning, that option's out. I know Rachel works today, and there's no way i'm calling her at two am for her to listen to me bitch and whine about how i can't breathe. I can't breathe though...no wait. I can. I'm breathing too much, actually. I'm hyperventilating. I've researched that too. Hyperventilation. The brain is getting too much oxygen, but your heart doesn't get enough of it. Your body is telling you you're suffocating and your brain tells you you're drowning.

It's getting a little better now. Apparently typing it out has almost the same effect as talking it about. It's two am and I'm supposed to meet my mom for breakfast at seven fifteen. I'm not sleeping tonight, looks like.

I Hate Editing.

It was gorgeous outside today. What was I doing, you may ask yourself? I was editing.

All fucking day. (Sorry to anyone that language offends...but it's warranted here.) Tearing your own words to pieces, again and again, then once more just for the hell of it...that sucks. It's harder than you can guess, especially when the work is something you're particularly proud of. Or at least something you *thought* you were proud of, until you started tearing it apart and realizing how much it sucks. So that's what I did all day. And yes, it is as fun as it sounds.

Then I went to see "Wanted", which was completely ridiculous but also ridiculously entertaining. I must own that movie when it comes out.

And now, what am I doing? Say it together, folks, I'm editing. Big surprise, huh? Big, fat, surprise.

I have no idea how to prepare for this writer's conference. It's...8 days?...eight days away, I think...holy crap. There's no way in hell I'm going to be ready for this. No way.

I'm just terrified that I'm going to go and waste my time and my father's well-earned money. I'm afraid his pride will go unfounded, his support will have been misplaced. All of those things can happen, folks, and I'm terrified that they will. I need a break from this. I'm trying and trying and trying to prepare but all I'm doing is freaking myself out.

How can I do this without driving myself (or my parents) up the wall with questions and uncertainties? How can I do this without failing, without completely letting myself and everyone around me down?

The more pertinent question: How in the hell am I gonna do this at all?

Sooo funny

I don't know why i find this so funny, but i really do.


Basic Instructions: February 2008

Spazzing out

This writer's conference thing is spazzing me out. Really bad. Two weeks from today I'm going to be pitching something to 40 agents in a hot, crowded room. But these things remain unknown:

-What I will pitch.
-What I will wear.
-How I will do my hair.
-How I will do what I pitch, when I finally decide what I should pitch.
-Where we're (me and my dad) are staying the night of.

And this is two weeks from today. Oh, man......what the hell have I gotten myself into?

Apparently "Five" doesn't suck

Rachel read "Five," and she liked it. Good deal. Good deal. Now if my dad could just read it, that'd be great. Maybe before the writer's conference he could read the book i finished almost a month ago. That would also be a good thing, maybe. Just maybe.

Business cards?!

Man, this whole writer's conference thing is wigging me out. I'm spazzing. Really. It's kind of ridiculous. I have to get business cards. What are they gonna say? "Catherine Maynard, Wannabe Writer"?

I don't know, I think way too much. That's my problem. I'm spazzing out because I think too much.

Oh well. I guess I'll get through it somehow.

Beeeeeeeach

The title really says it all here...

BEEEEEEEAAAACH

i need it. now.


and that, my friends, is what she said.

Home

Here I am. Good old US of A, the land of the free and home of the blah blah blah. Good old (or not so good) Ohio, really super not so good Canal Winchester. I'm happy to be home with my parents (even though they have let my room grow mold *hopefully it's not really that bad, but i really don't even know yet*, and they threw clothes onto the bed unfolded, like i could magically pop back from 4,700 miles away and fold them). I'm jet-lagged and therefore tired (it's 7h00 (7 am) my time right now, and my parents just went to bed...it's 01h00 here. Boo jet-lag). And i miss France already. How sad is that?

I think a big part of it is that i haven't gotten to see Rachel yet. I'm sure once I see her i'll remember why i don't mind living in a world with Walmart but without a patisserie on every corner. Hopefully being with her will remind me of that fact. Depending on what she's doing in the next week before the beach, i was gonna go down there and visit her maybe. I don't know. We'll see. Okay, i'm rambling, mostly because i'm too tired to sleep...does that make any sense to anyone else? Oh well. I'll try to post later when i'm more coherent.

idem (I'm not going to technically stop missing you until i see you, so yeah...we gotta rectify that.)

me

I Raise my Glass...Or Can, as the case may be

Cheers. To Avignon, to France, to all the friends i've made here. Cheers to going home. I raise my massive can of Kronenbourg that i bought five minutes ago in the gas station down the street from my house. Here's to you.

I think i'm finally ready, mostly because of friends and beach. That doesn't mean i want to go, it just means i'm ready. I'm kinda stressing out about the whole travelling aspect of it, just because i have only an hour-ish layover in each place. That just makes me nervous.

I'm pretty much all packed. I'm pretty sure one of my suitcases is over the weight limit, but i refuse to care. I'll pay the extra money. Whatever.

I made cookies with Danielle on Wednesday. It was one of my greatest experiences here. It was so much fun, she's so amazing. She let me borrow an apron, and we were bustling around the kitchen...she's so adorable. She also taught me how to make this amazing coconut flan, so be expecting that at the beach next to rachel's famous fudge.

I'll see my parents tomorrow, then the rest of you sometime in the next two weeks. Crazy.

bientôt, mes chéries

me

Birthday Presents = sent

So Shades of Grey and Five are sent to Rachel. No idea if she's going to like them, but yeah. There you go.

I don't really have much else to say, except i'm bored right now because i don't have a new project yet. I'm done editing Shades of Grey and I'm done with my short story. I hate being between projects. At least usually I have some kind of idea bouncing around in my head. Right now, not so much. Right now i've got nothing.

SO BORED.

Not with life. Not with France. Just with myself. Someone give me an idea...I need something to write on the plane!

idem

me

Wonderful, if you insist...

Sorry, I'm listening to Wicked and trying to figure out this freakin french keybored. um...so yeah. Finished Rachel's birthday present last night. she should have it on monday at the absolute latest. i also finished my most recent short story today. I'm really happy with it, but it's uber-dark. i don't know. it's good, i think, it's just really depressing. so yeah. I don't really have that much to say, just that i'll see you guys in like...a week? almost. eight days. crazy, c-r-a-z-y...haha sorry, a lot of you won't get that joke. don't worry about it, as alan would say.

i might be back on sometime this weekend, but if not, definitely monday.

à bientôt!

me

Come on, come out...the weather is warm...

So...Finally. It's nice here. Finally, for the last eleven days we're here, it's nice. Whatever. I'm not gonna complain about it, haha.

Grace and I did a Lit presentation today, and we ROCKED IT. it went so well. He actually stopped me on my way out of the class to tell me that we did a really great job, that it was well organized and well-done. woooot.

Happy early birthday to Alan and Rachel--Alan, your present is already bought and you'll get it when i see you at the beach, and Rachel, your present will be in your inbox sometime this weekend. Probably.

It seems sometimes that all we do in France is wait. We walk to class, we wait for the prof to get there. We wait in between classes for the next class to start. Now we're waiting for Christophe to get here, with his computer, so we can start watching a movie. Boo. Not only a movie, but an obligatory movie. that's never a good sign, when they force you to watch a movie. that's a pretty strong sign that the movie will not be good.

So...I guess i should be back to waiting now...

"Come on, come out
The weather is warm
Come on, come out
Said come on, come on

A spot in the shade
Where oranges fall
A spot in the shade
Away from it all
Watching the sky
Watching a painting coming to life
Shaping and shifting
Staying inside
It all goes it all goes by

A blanket unfolds
A blanket tonight
The pieces of gold
They light up your eyes
Now we're alone
Now we're alive
Watching the sky
Watching the painting come to life
Shifting and shapingS
taying inside
It all goes it all goes it all goes by

Stopping the time
Rushing, waiting
Leave it behind
Shifting and shaping
Keep it inside
It all goes it all goes it all goes by
It all goes passing by
It all goes passing by"

12 days. What?!

I leave France twelve days from now. Two weeks from this moment I'll be sitting in Ohio, having lunch. Or sleeping, because I'll probably still be jetlagged. But...

wow.

Two weeks. Less than two weeks, even. How did this happen? How am I already being thrown into final projects and exams I'm not ready for? Why am I being forced to leave when I'm not ready to?

Or maybe I am. I don't know. I miss everyone (mostly Rachel, not gonna lie) but I'm not ready to leave. I love it here.

Maybe Rachel could just come live here. That cool with everyone?

Great. Let's do that then.

Like a mouse in a cage

Running the race like a mouse in a cage
Getting nowhere but I'm trying,
Forging ahead
But I'm stuck in the bed that I made
So I'm lying

But if you keep real close
Yeah, you stay real close
I will reach you
I'm down to a whisper
In a daydream on a hill
Shut down to a whisper
Can you hear me still?

Eager to please,
Trying to be what they need
But I'm so very tired
I've stopped trying to find any peace in my mind
Because it tangles the wires

But if you keep real close
Yeah, you stay real close
I will reach you
I'm down to a whisper
In a daydream on a hill
Shut down to a whisper
Can you hear me?
Can you hear me still?

The sound tires on my lips
To fade away into forgetting
I'm down to a whisper
In a daydream on a hill
Shut down to a whisper
Can you hear me?
Can you hear me?

I'm down to a whisper
In a daydream on a hill
Shut down to a whisper
Can you hear me?
Can you hear me still?

Cemetery Observations

If someone were to put a picture on my grave, what would it be? Would it be a notebook, a song, something in French? Would it be me? Would I look happy? Would people walk by my resting place—twenty, fifty, a hundred years later—and say, “She looked like a good person.”?

Walking through this cemetery, looking at all the forgotten faces, I wonder what kind of person I’ll turn out to be. All of these people had wondered the same thing at one time or another, and some of them never got the chance to know the answer.

I wonder what kind of flowers people will lay at their feet for me. Roses?—no, not roses, that’s too formal. Lilies, maybe, because they’re bright and happy. But I’m not bright and happy. Am I? Is there a flower that describes, personifies me? I have no idea.

What will people say about me? What will be written in the stone? “Always in our hearts,” “Our thoughts fly to heaven with you,” or something even more emotional? Or something like “You will be missed,” which seems to be the equivalent to “Have a nice summer,” written in a high school yearbook?

Will people remember me? As I walk through the rows of the dead, I know at least some of these people have no one left. No one is alive to remember them—their families have died off or moved on. They’re alone now, and I find the thought horribly depressing. Obviously, logically, I realize they’re in the ground, six feet under, dead…however you want to put it. But I see some of these graves that have been completely abandoned, or even vandalized, and I want to do something. I find myself wishing I had some flowers to lay, some memory of them, or at least something to say. Instead, all I can do is look at their faces and wonder.

My mind shoots off a thousand questions at once: When was this picture taken? Was he a nice person? Did he live a fulfilling life? How did he die?

From those questions comes the inevitable pondering about my own life. When will my picture be taken? Am I a nice person? Am I leading a fulfilling life? And of course, the morbid fascination of the human race: How, and when, will I die?

I don’t have any of these answers, and I probably never will. I’m okay with that. When my time comes, when I go, I want to be thinking about today, not five years ahead or five years ago. I want to live for now; that way, the last page of my life will be full. I won’t be waiting, idly filling my time. I’ll be filling the page with experiences, people, love. That way the end will never come too early. If every page of my life is full, the time will be just right. I’ll regret nothing, and I’ll be ready. Scared, yes, of course, but ready.

It’ll be time for another big adventure.

classes

So...I got the classes I wanted, even though it's kinda gonna suck, because I'm getting two sciences out of the way, boo hiss.

I'm doing:

FR 429 (when I get blue-slipped in)
ANTH 101
Sign Language II
P SC (color, light and sound)

So those two sciences are gonna kick my ass, but yeah. I'm excited about the sign language II, because I really want to continue with that. I'm okay with my schedule. I don't start until noon, and I'm definitely good with that. I was gonna take the Women and Writing with Rachel, but my sign language was during that time, and I'm way more interested in sign language. I'll just have to take my ENGJ class some other quarter.

a bientot!

me

Your name was written in the sand of the French Riviera

Yay! The title pretty much says it all...I just wanted to send a hello!

idem

I'll be a real writer some day!

So I love my parents. Not just because they're cool and nice, and blah blah blah, but because they support me. Finacially, yes, but otherwise as well. There's this Writer's Conference in New York in July, at the Hyatt Hotel. In New York.

A Writer's Conference. Like, for writers. To pitch their stuff to agents. To find an agent, to find a publisher. To become a "real" writer. Oh. My. God.

My dad's going with me, and he's paying for it. I'm ecstatic. I might actually get out there, get my stuff out there, get someone to read it. I can't believe it.

I'm not expecting anything, but it's a definite step forward. I'm going to a writer's conference, ThrillerFest, in New York. Friggin' New York. Whoa.

Just wanted to update y'all!

a bientot!

me

That does me good

Talked to both Alan and Rachel today, and my day got like a million times better.

It does my heart good, as Maw-Maw would say. =)

see my parents tomorrow! woo, it's a good week!!!!

"Shades of Grey" = FINISHED!

So i finally finished book #7, "Shades of Grey." (Technically I guess it's book #6, because I never finished the one before this one, haha) It's the one based on the hit-man from the short story "December," for those of you who have read that. It's strange...I'm happy but very sad at the same time, but even moreso with this book than with the others. With the others I was kind of ready to be done, but with this one, I like the characters so much, I really love Harper (the hero/anti-hero) and I love the secondaries, and I love the plots, and I'm kind of...I don't know, not ready to be done with them! I don't want to do a follow-up, but...I don't know. I don't want to be done with Harper just yet. I probably am, but I don't know. I don't wanna be!

On another note, my parents get here in TWO DAYS!! Wow. Craziness. Okay, I'll be back on later to Skype some of you guys.

Bootylicious...Oxford American, baby!

Don't worry about the title...just don't worry about it. =)

I'm just updating everyone one what's going on in France.

I was a little sick for a couple of days, but it's getting better. I'm a lot better today because i'm talking to Rachel, and it's so nice. I was really kind of homesick for the last couple days, so it's really nice to talk to Rachel, because here are a couple extracts from our webcammed skype conversation:

extract one:
me: "Why are you dancing?"
Rachel: "I'm dancing to bootylicious!" (murmurs) "Body's too bootylicious for ya babe...(pause) That's all I know. Wait, isn't there a part that's like, 'I don't think you're ready for this...jelly?' Is that it?"
me, laughing, all the French people thinking I'm crazy: "Yeah. That's it."

extract two:
me: "Don't worry, people can't see you."
Rachel: "It's good that people can't see me. 'Cause I'm in my underwear!"
me: "Well, don't worry, because I can't see your under...see, I can't say things like that in public to my computer, people will think I'm crazy!"
Rachel, laughing: "You should just start saying things like crotch, and boobs, and underwear. Do you think they'd understand?"
me: "They'd probably understand those words, yeah."

extract three:
me, talking about my Lit prof: "He wears a neckerchief, Rachel!"
Rachel: "A neckerchief? Like, an ascot?"
me: "Like an astronaut? What? Why?"
Rachel: "No. An ascot. A-S-C-O-T."
me: "What's that?"
Rachel: "Did you ever watch Scooby Doo?"
me: "No. I hate that show. What the hell does that have to do with neckerchiefs?"
Rachel: "Oh. Well, you're lame. Fred wore an ascot. That was my point."

So, in conclusion, it was a good day.

One Week!

My parents get here in one week...from today...I'm freaking out!

I can't wait to see them, it's gunna be so cool. I get to show them around, show off my French =), and introduce them to my awesome-amazingly-cool host mom.

I don't feel good today, but I can't help being excited. I haven't been sleeping well, but how's that different from normal? haha.

I don't know, just wanted to say...yay! Parents coming!

Update

Okay, I'm over it. I'm not happy with it, but I'm way better now. I realized that I was being emo, but i think it was mostly because I slept roughly three hours last night. My insomnia is rearing it's ugly head, and it's making me kind of a bitch during the day.

My apologies to anyone I was emo with (namely, Rachel). I'm better now. I'm gunna try and go nap, to get rid of this stupid insomnia-induced depression.

love y'all, ttyl

Frustration

Today was one of those days that talking to home did nothing to help my mood.

Trying to convince someone to meet you at the airport is harder than you'd think. Especially when it's really important to you, and obviously not at all important for her. I understand that it's not important, but...i don't know. Three months seems like an awfully long time, and i guess one more week won't make any difference, but it does to me. It will to me. Phone's not the same, skype's not the same. My parents have to be there--to pick me up, to see me--but i want someone there who chooses to be there, who wants to be there. But I don't know if that's going to happen or not.

I'm already homesick today...today is not a good day for this. I'm just gonna stop obsessing over it.

I guess I'll be on again tomorrow.

What?!?

Okay, Rachel called this one--

watched Bones, freaked out. Completely.

Booth can't be dead!

For those of you who don't know what that means, forget about it. And I know for a fact that Booth isn't dead, but wow. I about had a heart attack.

I thought when I saw Rachel's blog that it would be a good thing that I would freak out about, but nooooooo...someone had to get shot. Of course.

Nice update

Okay, so just wanted to update y'all a little bit about what's going on in Nice. I love Nice. It's really pretty, and we met up with Justin (a guy from our program who was also in Nice this weekend) to have dinner and walk around last night. So that was really nice.

Yesterday during the day Grace and I walked around some, went to this huge mall (i spent nothing, be proud!) and to the Virgin Superstore (...it's all music and books. No comment). We spend almost an hour in the Virgin Superstore, and we both spent some money on some French music. I checked my receipt afterwards (because my parents always do it, and I just picked up on the habit), and it turns out that they overcharged me by €12 on a book a bought. So i'm going to go back today and say, 'excusez-moi, madame, je l'ai achete hier apres-midi, et le livre est €12. Vous m'avez charger...' blah blah blah. So yeah. That should be interesting. We'll see if my French is good enough to get me a refund. I mean, i still want the book, so technicially it won't be a refund, but a...partial refund? I don't know, they overcharged me, so what's it called when I get my money back? Dunno, another thing to ponder...

Today we're going to go to the beach again, but I don't know if I'll be able to get in. It's kind of windy today, and I'm guessing the water's gunna be uber-cold. I'm glad I went in when i did, because now i can officially say I've swam in the Riviera without freezing my buttocks off. (I almost said a** but i know Maw-Maw reads the blog now, so I'm trying to be more careful) =)

Then we're going to go to the Virgin Superstore to get my money back, then I don't know what we're going to do. We're here until tomorrow at 14h30, so it's pretty great. We can just take our time doing what we want.

Like i said, it's like a vacation from a vacation.

okay, I'm gunna go now. I'll skype some of you on Tuesday!

143 me

Nice

So....i love Nice. So much.

I'm so glad we (Grace and I) decided to come to Nice instead of Paris. In Paris i would feel like i'd have to be doing things every second, seeing all the sights and so on. But in Nice i don't feel guilty at all just lying on the beach and staring at the ocean.

Which, by the way, i did for almost three hours today. I'm already sunburned and it's fantastic.

Tomorrow we're going shopping to give my sunburn a day to chill off (haha, i'm so funny), and then we're back to beach and chilling out on Saturday.

This is like a vacation from a vacation. We're living in France, which is already like a vacation (despite the classes), and now we're on the French Riveria. Wow.

Just wanted to update all of you, and tell y'all that i got to Nice safe and sound. I'll be here until Sunday.

**Oh! To Rachel--I almost forgot to put this on here. I won't be able to skype you on Monday because we don't have classes. I told you Monday when I talked to you last, but I wasn't thinking about classes. So i'll definitely be able to skype you on Tuesday, hopefully more toward four than six. But lemme know if you'll be around!

so, i'll talk to y'all later!

143 me

Scheduling

This is stressful.

Trying to pick classes is usually stressful, but picking them when you only have the internet for so long is crazy stressful. I picked out a schedule i relatively like, but it's 21 hours, so it looks like i'm gunna end up dropping something. I don't know, i might schedule all of them and then drop the one i like the least.

I'm taking "20th Century French Literature," which is FR 529. Isn't that crazy? I'll be a junior in college and I'll be taking a graduate french class. craziness.

Okay, I'll be on later (5-ish my time, 11-ish yours), and I'll be skyping and IM-ing!

ttyl

All Better Now

I was feeling kind of homesick for the last couple of days--as most of you could probably tell if I talked to you. I don't know, the fifth week, it just seems like forever since I've seen you all. This is usually what they call the "slump" of the program, but that's not really true for me. I love it here, and i truly love the program. I just miss people.

You know there are some days that you talk to people, but it just makes you miss them more? That was yesterday for me. I talked to Rachel, Emma, and my mom, and it just made me miss everyone more. Last night I was REALLY REALLY homesick.

Today I came to class with my computer, expecting to have somewhat of the same experience when I called Rachel. But contrary (luckily) to my former belief, we talked for over an hour and a half, and I feel so much better. I don't know why it changes like that from one day to the next, but really, i feel so much better now.

Just wanted to say. =)

park writing III - mushy but worth reading, i think

Same park, different day. It’s beautiful today, maybe 25°C, and very little Mistral. The fountain makes a bubbling noise as it flows, and children laugh as they run away from their parents. There’s a little girl playing near the fountain, obviously considering jumping in. Her mother catches up with her just in time and dissuades her, holding the back of the little shirt so she stays still. The little girl thinks this new game is even better; she forgets all about the fountain. She leans forward and her mother pulls her back. Back and forth, back and forth. I find myself watching, and before long I notice that I’m tense—if she falls, she’ll bust her nose on the fountain bottom! Every time the mother catches her it’s a barely catch, and my breath gasps on each one. But I also notice that the mother and daughter are both laughing by now, and neither of them look the least bit worried.

This reminds me of my dad. When I was little, he had a game that was one of my favorites—Trapdoor. Every time I dropped through his arms, I would shriek and laugh, but not out of fear. I realize now that I trusted him implicitly, and I knew he wouldn’t drop me. I was right to place my trust in him I think…he never did drop me. Now, give him a sparkler, and you never know…=). It makes me smile, because I always thought I had “trust issues.” But as I think of my dad, I feel—no, I know—that I would still, even today, trust him to hold the back of my shirt. I would, I do, trust him to catch me when the button is pushed and the trapdoors fall open.

The same goes for my mom, Alan, and Rachel. Honestly, I hesitated on that last one. Would I really? I paused on that. Would I really trust a friend, to whom I have no relation, to catch me if I fell? Sure we say we’re best friends, but what does that really mean? Would I trust her with…well, everything? I found that a voice answered me almost immediately. Yes. Absolutely, yes. I trust my instincts, so I question it no further.

The wind on my face diverts my thoughts. Guess I took a short detour there. I look over. The mother and the daughter are gone.

Now a boy and a girl—probably 8 & 10, most likely brother and sister—take their place. Their parents are nowhere to be seen, so they pop off their shoes and stick their feet in the water. I can’t believe my eyes as I’m seeing this—it just seems too picturesque—but they sit there, feet in the fountain, and the little boy grabs his older sister’s hand. She laughs and brings their joined hands to eye level. Seemingly telepathically, they know what they want to do. 1, 2, 3, 4, I declare a thumb war…

This makes me think, of course, of my brother. The number of times he entertained me—on long car rides, when I wasn’t sleepy, or in the later years when I simply couldn’t sleep—astounds me. Bear Olympics (which later became Animal Olympics so as to include some non-bear species), basket-ball with plastic cups hung in the backseat of the car, or just singing with me when I wanted to sing. What impresses me most is not what he did when we were younger—although I must say he was the best big brother I can imagine—but what he does now. In the last few years, especially my first years of high school, those were not particularly good times for me. Alan wasn’t home, and I didn’t really have anybody to talk to. But I knew that I could call him whenever I needed him, and I did. I only had to do it once or twice, but he was always there. He dropped what he was doing to talk to me. He’s a very intuitive person (even more so than me), and he could tell when I needed to talk or when I simply wanted to talk. There’s a big difference, and I think he always picked up on that. He’s incredible. Alan, I’m sorry if I’m embarrassing you, but…actually no, I’m not. It’s hard to do, so I’ll take pride in it. =)

*To Emma—you had it right when you called him an amazing person, but I’m not sure the compliment has been reciprocated. Just for the record, I can’t wait to call you sister. He hung onto you, and somehow I think I knew he would. He may be kind of a jackass sometimes, but my brother is not a stupid person. The older we get, the more I get to know the man my brother turned out to be, the more I want to be like him when I grow up.

The boy and the girl are gone now, too. Apparently I’m not being very observant today. Or maybe I’m just being too introspective to see anything outside of myself. Taking stock of your thoughts is more tiring than you’d think.

I miss you all, and I’m excited to see you all in a couple of months—my family, and those of you who aren’t technically family but you may as well be (or those who soon will be!).

I guess my advice for this park-writing session is to take stock sometimes. Of your friends, your family, your emotions. It’s not always easy, but I guarantee you’ll learn something new about yourself.

some pictures

It was gorgeous yesterday, so I took some pictures of just everyday things.

The view from my parent's hotel:

My parent's hotel:

This is actually a pool...looks kind of olympic size, huh?

I can't figure out this sign...at first I thought it was a fire hydrant, but still...can't figure it out:

The view from the front of my house:

I'll be back on Monday to talk to some of you!

Venice, anyone?

So I think I'm going to Venice. We just found out that we have a five-day weekend, and i think Grace and I are just gunna do it and go to Venice. I'm not quite positive yet, and i'm looking for train/plane tickets, and i'll keep you updated.

pictures

hey, check out these pictures, for those of you who can't or won't get on facebook!! haha

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2219976&l=a954e&id=12320038

there you go!

Park Writing II

People-watching should be a sport. Sitting in the park, under the tress, shielded from the worst of the rain. The people here hate rain, so it’s great to go walking on the sidewalks of Provence in the rain. You’re by yourself—plenty of time to think, plenty of solitude. It’s great if you want to be alone.

If you want to people-watch, however, you go to the park. Even in the rain, there are people at the park. Moms with their children, men with their wives (or mistresses), generations of women sitting and chatting under their colorful umbrellas. There are only a certain number of benches protected by the trees, and they go fast. I make sure to snag one before they’re all gone.

I watch people pass, so European-chic in their scarves and long belted coats. I stand out as an American just by sight, but I don’t know that this is necessarily a bad thing.

I think the first thing that gives me away is that I look decidedly anti-social sitting by myself in the corner of the park (under a tree), listening to an mp3 player. Contrary to popular belief, people here are very kind. They like talking, and I haven’t met one person who wasn’t fascinated by the fact that I’m an American college student. They ask questions, and a lot of them want to practice their English. I must’ve heard the question, “Est-ce que je peux parler anglais avec vous?” a million times. They want to speak English, and although it was annoying at first—I wanted to speak French, they wanted to speak English—it’s really not so bad now. I speak French every day, all the time here, it’s kind of nice meeting a European who wants to practice their language skills just like you do.

The second thing that makes me an obvious American is my accent. As soon as I open my mouth, even if my French is parfait, they know, immediately, that I’m an American. It’s kind of like if someone lives in Georgia—southern Georgia—their entire life, they’re going to have an accent. If they went to New York and ordered a pizza, they waiter would know they weren’t New Yorkers. It’s not really a bad thing, although at first it was disheartening. As first I thought it was my level of language that gave me away. My host mom assured me this was not the case—just my accent, and I’m honestly fine with that. Some people even think I’m québécoise, which I find to be hilariously awesome. I didn’t expect to fit in exactly, and I didn’t believe I would be able to adopt a perfect French accent in a month. Some people did, I think, and it will probably take them awhile to get over the fact that while they’re here, they are foreigners. They won’t fit in. Honestly, I kind of like standing out. It makes me different.

It seems that the word “different” is a running theme in my park writings. I don’t know why, but I kind of like it. I really think I’m growing a lot into who I am and who I’m going to be, and I think I’m going to like her. All I can say is, “Different but better, ma chèrie.” =)

I’ve written a lot here. I’m on page 68 of the Harper book (whose working title now is “Wait”), and I really think I’ll be able to finish it by June. June 8th, to be exact. I really think I can do it.

The Garden State soundtrack is my new best friend. I’ve gone through two or three stages of music since I’ve been here (not having all my music instantly at my disposal is hard!): First it was Counting Crows (specifically a couple of songs that I now know entirely by memory), then it was A Fine Frenzy, because their stuff is just so chill and I could sing along. Now, as I sit in the park, I’m listening to the Garden State soundtrack, because it’s just…perfect. It fits my mood; content, a little nostalgic, maybe, but happy. I have no idea where I’m going, but I know where I’ve been. Seems to kind of fit the theme of the movie, and it definitely fits the music.

For some reason, Hairspray won’t work on my computer. All my other movies play just great (on my pirated software because I’m an idiot and I accidentally deleted my codec in Québec), but Hairspray won’t play. It really frustrated me last night. Yesterday (Thursday) was a particularly bad day, mostly because I was really sick. But I wanted to watch Hairspray last night, and it wouldn’t work. I wanted something to lift my mood, someone I could drool at (don’t worry about it) and a good message. I messed with it for over an hour, and I could not figure out what in the hell was wrong with it. I still don’t know. It works on Grace’s computer, but it won’t work on mine.

“Frustrated” is a massive understatement. I’m over it now, but man, at the time, I was looking to kill the stupid DVD. But then I knew it would never work again, and I figured that would be counter-productive. So I put it away and watched Garden State instead. Not the same, but still good.

Okay, my hand is getting tired. I’m writing this on Friday afternoon, and I’ll probably type it up sometime this weekend and post it on Monday.

Hopefully I’ll talk to some of you between now and then.