Alright, random blog entry number two.
Let’s see, maybe I should actually talk about NaNo a bit, since that’s where I was all November and it consumed all my goals.
Par for each day was 1,667 words. In the beginning, I surpassed that. Then I actually had to work and it fell. But I got it back up on the weekend. And it kind of worked like that the whole time. I complained about falling far behind, but my “far behind” was not really far. I don’t think I ever fell more than two or three days behind, and I pushed through. I think I took fewer naps, too, which is an accomplishment with my schedule.
Half the time I hated my story. One time I had sudden inspiration for a new story which was brilliantly amazing. (Did I mention I don’t follow the letter-of-the-law in NaNo? You’re supposed to start one story and keep going with it and not work on anything previous. I started something I’d already started and also jumped around stories a bit. Not much, but clearly enough to have “cheated” if I was actually following rules). My story still frustrates me a bit, but I think I’m coming around to the idea of editing. I don’t edit things. It’s a major flaw of mine. But it’s worked for me for a very, very long time, and that makes it even a bigger flaw—getting through college without ever having TRULY edited a paper puts a sort of stubborn pride in your head that resists edits.
And I won, which was an awesome feeling. And then a kind of dead feeling, because now what? As weird as it sounds because NaNo is an arbitrary goal with a fake deadline and no reward or consequences with finishing, without it looming over my head, my pressing urge to write and my proper dedication to write has fizzled miserably.
I wonder if it’d be too lofty a goal to try to finish my story by the end of December. Heck, I might as well set it as a goal and fail it if I fail it. Done.
So, an unmentioned goal of mine was to get down to DC before my cousin Krista left to go back to the west coast. She’s been “studying abroad” in DC and working as an intern at the Supreme Court (how cool is that??). October and November absolutely flew by, but I managed to make it. It was just about the shortest trip ever and at a random time, because it was what I could afford – I left Monday morning, got in Monday night and left tonight (Wednesday night) for an overnight back to Boston. The overnight seemed like a good idea at the time (plus it was three times cheaper than the Thursday morning bus) but I’m not sure how well I’ll sleep on this bus…but I don’t work until Thursday night so I can always sleep all afternoon and really screw up my sleep schedule.
It was fun. I didn’t see as much as I could have, but that’s not why I came down. I came down to see people, and partly because I’m sick and partly because it was such a short trip, I wasn’t feeling touristy. I saw the majority of the stuff this summer and so I was there for family, and it was great.
I met a bunch of Krista’s friends, and even though I hate meeting new people, I love meeting new people. Doesn’t make sense? Think of it this way – I don’t like the awkwardness and the basic questions of getting to know people. But I love meeting people. (There comes a point when you don’t like meeting new people, but it’s been a long, long time since I was bombarded with new people for six months in Denmark).
I got a tour of the Supreme Court, led by Krista herself. It was amazing and I nerded out. It was great. Standing in the courtroom was surreal. It’s the same room/setup since the uh…30s Krista said. So all those decisions that have been made since then – CRAZY.
I basically ran through the National Gallery of Art for 45 minutes before it closed. I didn’t get to see all of it, and I think I missed some of the interesting stuff, but without a map, I still somehow managed to find my impressionist and early 19th century French artists whom I love.
I got to see my other DC cousins – Casey, Mike and Kim and their son. We went to a fabulous southern food restaurant, then Casey joined Krista and I meeting Krista’s friends and basically having an awesome mini Perry reunion. It’s rough that the Perry family is so spread out and yet so cool. It would make things a lot easier if our family sucked ;-)
Oh, and a truck ran over my foot. I was crossing the street legally, as were two others. Totally fine. Krista’s decided I’m super woman or something with unbreakable bones. I’d be cool with that, if this is how I find out I’m a super hero. All for it, in fact.
I’m actually kind of glad it happened, because now I have a story about “that time my foot was run over and nothing happened other than half an hour of tingling pain”. I don’t actually believe it happened, to be honest, but hey.
So, let’s see…some goals.
December: Finish my story, don’t go broke, and fully enjoy Christmas.
This week: Make pumpkin pie and celebrate the holidays with Katherine before she leaves for her winter break.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Step Eight: Ramble. A lot.
Hello! I've returned! With a bunch of tangents and unrelated things. Because that's what I do best. When I write, I am both super introspective and also completely random and have the ability to go on rants about pretty much anything. Or paragraphs of praise. Either one.
I’m getting really anxious about my trip to England. Anxious not as in anxiety but as in the must-need-happen-SOON phenomenon. I’ve been having inner wars about leaving Boston, and I’m sure I will continue to have them later on, but it will always come back to me dying to take this adventure. And it’s not because I want to leave Boston—I don’t—and it’s not because I love England—I do. I think a large portion of my desire to leave stems from my life history. I’ve moved a lot, and in the last four years especially, I’ve had some crazy adventures. I moved to Boston and found a real home, chosen by myself. I went to England as a tourist. I went to England as a student archaeologist. I went to Denmark and traveled Europe. I’m ready for the next adventure. The other thing is that I’ve almost been in Boston too long…I think, I hope even, that one day I’ll come back to Boston, and it might be sooner than I think (I mean, my plan to get a job in England might fall flat on my face and then I might leave after 90 days)…but right now, I sort of feel like I’m stagnating. I’m going to be doing the exact same thing in England that I’m doing here – I’m going to be working a not “real” job (though, really, someone needs to provide you with your caffeine fix) and writing, but it’s going to be an adventure and new experiences…and I haven’t been having as many of those lately, and I think I’m getting restless.
Actually, that’s a lie…I’m always having new experiences. Working at Starbucks is certainly full of experiences, and new people, which is the whole point. (I LOVE everyone there, by the way.) But, you know…I love England and have to go.
Speaking of new experiences, November certainly was one. It was a crazy, hectic, emotional whirlwind of a time and I loved it. As you saw, I did exceed my expectations fabulously. I wrote 50,000 words, which, I don’t remember exactly because I already transferred all the writing over to the various Word documents, but was about 85-90 pages.
(I could go into another tangent about how I am a weird, weird person and I seem, on the surface, very open about my writing and I’ll share some things, but as soon as people start asking questions, I get upset and hate answering. I’m a really, really complicated mix of open and private and I love superficially and theoretically talking about my writing, but whenever it gets real or I’m asked what I’m writing, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s just a weird quirk. It’s also a self-conscious thing.)
I had basically no life in November. Actually, no, I was proud of how much of a social life I did have, but my room was disgusting and I didn’t cook anything somehow for pretty much the entire month.
Not only was NaNo really satisfying for my own concept of my abilities and just pure writing-flow joy and showing me that if I delegate my time properly I have TONS of time…but it almost felt like a facial for my life. When I “left” NaNo, I felt rejuvenated with lots of new goals. Simple things like consciously trying to prevent my room from becoming AS bad (I have to have some clutter, though)…like trying to bake more (just made pumpkin cookies for the first time and they were a MAJOR success…I love sharing them and I love even more getting compliments ;D)…like trying to eat healthier. That’s actually worked fairly well.
(A link to an author who tried NaNo and failed but wrote an awesome blog entry about it…and, in general, is a god of a wordsmith. Completely seriously, if you like fantasy, or even if you don’t, or even if you only like Tolkein or Harry Potter, you should read Patrick Rothfuss. There is not a single misplaced or unimportant word in his work. And they are all beautiful. It’s unbelievably and makes me feel like a terrible failure at life – but only when I’m able to put the book down long enough to do that.
Blog entry here)
…This blog really has no purpose. It’s just me rambling about life. And the ‘goal’ purpose is a total front.
I’m going to post this random entry and then write another one about DC and actual goal-y things, maybe, but I should break up my rambles, because I’m convinced they take effort to actually read and make sense of.
Love you all (my total of three-ish readers…)
I’m getting really anxious about my trip to England. Anxious not as in anxiety but as in the must-need-happen-SOON phenomenon. I’ve been having inner wars about leaving Boston, and I’m sure I will continue to have them later on, but it will always come back to me dying to take this adventure. And it’s not because I want to leave Boston—I don’t—and it’s not because I love England—I do. I think a large portion of my desire to leave stems from my life history. I’ve moved a lot, and in the last four years especially, I’ve had some crazy adventures. I moved to Boston and found a real home, chosen by myself. I went to England as a tourist. I went to England as a student archaeologist. I went to Denmark and traveled Europe. I’m ready for the next adventure. The other thing is that I’ve almost been in Boston too long…I think, I hope even, that one day I’ll come back to Boston, and it might be sooner than I think (I mean, my plan to get a job in England might fall flat on my face and then I might leave after 90 days)…but right now, I sort of feel like I’m stagnating. I’m going to be doing the exact same thing in England that I’m doing here – I’m going to be working a not “real” job (though, really, someone needs to provide you with your caffeine fix) and writing, but it’s going to be an adventure and new experiences…and I haven’t been having as many of those lately, and I think I’m getting restless.
Actually, that’s a lie…I’m always having new experiences. Working at Starbucks is certainly full of experiences, and new people, which is the whole point. (I LOVE everyone there, by the way.) But, you know…I love England and have to go.
Speaking of new experiences, November certainly was one. It was a crazy, hectic, emotional whirlwind of a time and I loved it. As you saw, I did exceed my expectations fabulously. I wrote 50,000 words, which, I don’t remember exactly because I already transferred all the writing over to the various Word documents, but was about 85-90 pages.
(I could go into another tangent about how I am a weird, weird person and I seem, on the surface, very open about my writing and I’ll share some things, but as soon as people start asking questions, I get upset and hate answering. I’m a really, really complicated mix of open and private and I love superficially and theoretically talking about my writing, but whenever it gets real or I’m asked what I’m writing, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s just a weird quirk. It’s also a self-conscious thing.)
I had basically no life in November. Actually, no, I was proud of how much of a social life I did have, but my room was disgusting and I didn’t cook anything somehow for pretty much the entire month.
Not only was NaNo really satisfying for my own concept of my abilities and just pure writing-flow joy and showing me that if I delegate my time properly I have TONS of time…but it almost felt like a facial for my life. When I “left” NaNo, I felt rejuvenated with lots of new goals. Simple things like consciously trying to prevent my room from becoming AS bad (I have to have some clutter, though)…like trying to bake more (just made pumpkin cookies for the first time and they were a MAJOR success…I love sharing them and I love even more getting compliments ;D)…like trying to eat healthier. That’s actually worked fairly well.
(A link to an author who tried NaNo and failed but wrote an awesome blog entry about it…and, in general, is a god of a wordsmith. Completely seriously, if you like fantasy, or even if you don’t, or even if you only like Tolkein or Harry Potter, you should read Patrick Rothfuss. There is not a single misplaced or unimportant word in his work. And they are all beautiful. It’s unbelievably and makes me feel like a terrible failure at life – but only when I’m able to put the book down long enough to do that.
Blog entry here)
…This blog really has no purpose. It’s just me rambling about life. And the ‘goal’ purpose is a total front.
I’m going to post this random entry and then write another one about DC and actual goal-y things, maybe, but I should break up my rambles, because I’m convinced they take effort to actually read and make sense of.
Love you all (my total of three-ish readers…)
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Not a Real Entry
Hey peeps!
Happy 11/11/11. I hope you made an amazing wish at 11:11 :)
Things have been good. I've been quite content with my lot in life :)
I only came on here, because I thought this widget was nifty:
Happy 11/11/11. I hope you made an amazing wish at 11:11 :)
Things have been good. I've been quite content with my lot in life :)
I only came on here, because I thought this widget was nifty:
Monday, October 31, 2011
Step Seven: Ignore your Social Life (in favor of writing!)
My mom has been dropping subtle (or maybe not-so-subtle) hints about this blog. And how it hasn’t been updated.
Sorry.
Double sorry, because I don’t think this will be a real update.
Things have been kind of crazy the last few weeks. I got my second job (my backup plan to England, which I still haven’t talked about), a good thing, too, since my primary plan is half failed (not unexpected, hence the backup plan). So I’ve been trying to figure everything out. There’s the stress of being new somewhere and having to adjust to different hours and what not. I think I’m doing good.
I DID, as of five minutes ago, complete my October goal of editing my story. For a while there I didn’t think it was going to happen because I was bad at time management. But it did happen. Now comes the search for literary agents. *gulp*
November’s writing goal is also tied-in to the not-real-update. And why there might not be a real update for an indefinite period of time. November is National Novel Writing Month, and with that comes a challenge to write 50,000 words in a month. I’ve never done it before because I’ve always forced writing to the back of my mind (as much as is possible with me) and made myself complete all my school work first. After which I was mentally exhausted and therefore could not write. So writing was hard enough, let alone writing 50,000 words (ca. 100 single-spaced Word pages). This year, however…I’m not sure if I’ll make it, but my goal is to write at least SOMETHING every day (as one of the goals before) and get to at least 30,000 words AND to exceed my own expectations.
The e-mails they send me about preparing for NaNoWriMo amuse me. It’s all about tying up loose ends (like this) and alerting people that you won’t be around (like this) and doing grocery shopping for a month and dispelling any penchant you may have for cleanliness (done LONG ago…Dad, I blame your genetics for this). Actually, Katherine, one of my roommates yesterday told me that if I ever wanted her to cook any of my dinners for me, she would. Awww. That’s just about the sweetest thing ever.
The point of this being that I’m already far behind in my journal and will probably get much farther, thus affecting this blog as well. All my writing energies will be expended on creative writing. But, who knows, maybe I’ll occasionally need a break.
What else, what else? I did walk to work once, after I recovered from my cold. It was a shorter walk than I thought, and it was very pleasant. I also finally used up all my apples with apple-y goodness treats.
Another goal for November: Despite the fact that we just had our first snowfall and that Starbucks is going into Holiday-Phase-One, which includes holiday cups (hooray!) and peppermint mochas (actually available year round, for your info, but only really special when it’s the holidays) and the Thanksgiving Blend coffee…do NOT get into a Christmas-y mood.
Actually, a Christmas-y mood would be happy and cheerful and loving and giving, so I can be that. I just can’t listen to Christmas music in my own spare time (I can’t help what happens to be playing on the radio or at Starbucks) or anything like that. I found myself wanting to listen to Christmas music the other day, and I was horrified, being that I am a very adamant Christmas-after-Thanksgiving person.
I guess this counts as a real update.
And with that, toodaloo!
Sorry.
Double sorry, because I don’t think this will be a real update.
Things have been kind of crazy the last few weeks. I got my second job (my backup plan to England, which I still haven’t talked about), a good thing, too, since my primary plan is half failed (not unexpected, hence the backup plan). So I’ve been trying to figure everything out. There’s the stress of being new somewhere and having to adjust to different hours and what not. I think I’m doing good.
I DID, as of five minutes ago, complete my October goal of editing my story. For a while there I didn’t think it was going to happen because I was bad at time management. But it did happen. Now comes the search for literary agents. *gulp*
November’s writing goal is also tied-in to the not-real-update. And why there might not be a real update for an indefinite period of time. November is National Novel Writing Month, and with that comes a challenge to write 50,000 words in a month. I’ve never done it before because I’ve always forced writing to the back of my mind (as much as is possible with me) and made myself complete all my school work first. After which I was mentally exhausted and therefore could not write. So writing was hard enough, let alone writing 50,000 words (ca. 100 single-spaced Word pages). This year, however…I’m not sure if I’ll make it, but my goal is to write at least SOMETHING every day (as one of the goals before) and get to at least 30,000 words AND to exceed my own expectations.
The e-mails they send me about preparing for NaNoWriMo amuse me. It’s all about tying up loose ends (like this) and alerting people that you won’t be around (like this) and doing grocery shopping for a month and dispelling any penchant you may have for cleanliness (done LONG ago…Dad, I blame your genetics for this). Actually, Katherine, one of my roommates yesterday told me that if I ever wanted her to cook any of my dinners for me, she would. Awww. That’s just about the sweetest thing ever.
The point of this being that I’m already far behind in my journal and will probably get much farther, thus affecting this blog as well. All my writing energies will be expended on creative writing. But, who knows, maybe I’ll occasionally need a break.
What else, what else? I did walk to work once, after I recovered from my cold. It was a shorter walk than I thought, and it was very pleasant. I also finally used up all my apples with apple-y goodness treats.
Another goal for November: Despite the fact that we just had our first snowfall and that Starbucks is going into Holiday-Phase-One, which includes holiday cups (hooray!) and peppermint mochas (actually available year round, for your info, but only really special when it’s the holidays) and the Thanksgiving Blend coffee…do NOT get into a Christmas-y mood.
Actually, a Christmas-y mood would be happy and cheerful and loving and giving, so I can be that. I just can’t listen to Christmas music in my own spare time (I can’t help what happens to be playing on the radio or at Starbucks) or anything like that. I found myself wanting to listen to Christmas music the other day, and I was horrified, being that I am a very adamant Christmas-after-Thanksgiving person.
I guess this counts as a real update.
And with that, toodaloo!
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Photos
Some photos of what I've written about!
My clean and organized room (not so clean anymore...):
Wheee, books!
My "Love" wall
Postcards! (Where I've been in Europe, ones people have sent me, where I've been in America)
The result of not-finding celebrities in Boston:
Apples!
The road
Please do not throw apples into the lake
A bushel of apples
This tree was all sorts of photo-awesome
My clean and organized room (not so clean anymore...):
Wheee, books!
My "Love" wall
Postcards! (Where I've been in Europe, ones people have sent me, where I've been in America)
The result of not-finding celebrities in Boston:
Apples!
The road
Please do not throw apples into the lake
A bushel of apples
This tree was all sorts of photo-awesome
Step Six: Lack Coordination and FearTraffic
Written Tuesday, October 11th
Upon hypothesis formation and experimentation, it has been determined that Boston city biking is not for Elizabeth. It was very stressful. There was traffic and more hills than I realized (and I’m not very coordinated on bikes…having a red light at the top of a hill is a very, very depressing sight). So I’m out of shape and FAR too timid to deal with Boston drivers.
I really enjoyed riding my bike when I wasn’t scared of traffic, and I’m fairly close to Reservoir, which has some bike trails, and the Emerald Necklace, so maybe I’ll brave traffic occasionally for a bike ride but not as a money-saving tactic to get to work.
I think I might still bike Sunday mornings to Sunday School when there will be less traffic and get the hang of it, then decide in spring. But not every day, especially with my laptops and the stories my coworker was telling me—she’s seen at least three times a car open their door right in front of a bike and the bike flipping over it.
Maybe I’m chickening out because I’m just not experienced and more tries equals more experience, but I DID try it…I miss Danish bike riding (though I like the bike here). So I think I’ll make my daily goal to get home safely.
Weekly Goal: Bake apple things
On Saturday, we went apple-picking, a quintessential New England fall pastime (and one that makes me wonder about leaving Boston because I love it so much…but that’s a whole different ramble). Only it wasn’t fall. Boston, being Boston, decided it felt like being in the 80s. It was a BEAUTIFUL day but so HOT.
Another new experience with Boston traffic—I drove, but it wasn’t so bad. We live right by the highway out of town so no navigating crazy downtown. Plus, I had Minerva the English GPS to help me. And the drive was gorgeous. Not really fall colors, but they were getting there and the light was hitting the leaves just right.
Because of the long weekend (Columbus Day—yes, he was a terrible person but quit whinging if you get the day off) and the weather, the orchard was packed (and the parking attendants just stood there…thanks for the help, dudes!). However, packed with small children—which is more a bonus than a retractor. There were five of us, so we bought the 20 pound bag equaling LOTS of apples for each of us. On my menu: pie (obviously), apple-raisin bran muffins, and applesauce. I’m weird because I don’t much like apples but I love things made WITH apples.
The weekend was busier than I’d planned because of the weather (we walked to Cold Stone—burning off those ice cream calories!—and met some old guy who was trying to be helpful even though I actually knew where I was going…and then started going off about how the Red Sox are sucking so he’s going to burn all his Red Sox stuff and oh yeah he has cancer. Alright.), so I didn’t do any editing. I did write on Monday, all afternoon, and I’d forgotten how exhausting it is. It sounds weird that sitting and writing all day would be tiring, but if you remember writing essays and how you’re braindead after? It’s like that, only you’re emotionally dead, too, because you’re so invested in it. And all the emotions the characters feel, you feel, too. So, contrary to popular belief, writing is not easy peasy.
Written Wednesday, October 12th
Random sidenote. I read an article that writing dates with the “th” at the end is incorrect. My friend and I then had a lengthy conversation trying to decide whether that was true or not. We decided that either way is correct, but that people tend to write October 12th like above but in a history book or something it would say 12 October 1589.
I just wanted to say that I survived my ride back and I still disliked it so I no longer think I’m chickening out. However, having lost my exercise method, I’m thinking about being completely crazy and walking to work in the mornings. It depends on my work schedule (which will determine my sleep schedule), but if I’m not jipping myself out of sleep, then I’ll wake up earlier and walk to work (it’s about an hour). Until it’s freezing, that is. Is that crazy? My back might not like it with my laptop in my backpack but otherwise, it’s a nice part of town with pretty buildings…
Upon hypothesis formation and experimentation, it has been determined that Boston city biking is not for Elizabeth. It was very stressful. There was traffic and more hills than I realized (and I’m not very coordinated on bikes…having a red light at the top of a hill is a very, very depressing sight). So I’m out of shape and FAR too timid to deal with Boston drivers.
I really enjoyed riding my bike when I wasn’t scared of traffic, and I’m fairly close to Reservoir, which has some bike trails, and the Emerald Necklace, so maybe I’ll brave traffic occasionally for a bike ride but not as a money-saving tactic to get to work.
I think I might still bike Sunday mornings to Sunday School when there will be less traffic and get the hang of it, then decide in spring. But not every day, especially with my laptops and the stories my coworker was telling me—she’s seen at least three times a car open their door right in front of a bike and the bike flipping over it.
Maybe I’m chickening out because I’m just not experienced and more tries equals more experience, but I DID try it…I miss Danish bike riding (though I like the bike here). So I think I’ll make my daily goal to get home safely.
Weekly Goal: Bake apple things
On Saturday, we went apple-picking, a quintessential New England fall pastime (and one that makes me wonder about leaving Boston because I love it so much…but that’s a whole different ramble). Only it wasn’t fall. Boston, being Boston, decided it felt like being in the 80s. It was a BEAUTIFUL day but so HOT.
Another new experience with Boston traffic—I drove, but it wasn’t so bad. We live right by the highway out of town so no navigating crazy downtown. Plus, I had Minerva the English GPS to help me. And the drive was gorgeous. Not really fall colors, but they were getting there and the light was hitting the leaves just right.
Because of the long weekend (Columbus Day—yes, he was a terrible person but quit whinging if you get the day off) and the weather, the orchard was packed (and the parking attendants just stood there…thanks for the help, dudes!). However, packed with small children—which is more a bonus than a retractor. There were five of us, so we bought the 20 pound bag equaling LOTS of apples for each of us. On my menu: pie (obviously), apple-raisin bran muffins, and applesauce. I’m weird because I don’t much like apples but I love things made WITH apples.
The weekend was busier than I’d planned because of the weather (we walked to Cold Stone—burning off those ice cream calories!—and met some old guy who was trying to be helpful even though I actually knew where I was going…and then started going off about how the Red Sox are sucking so he’s going to burn all his Red Sox stuff and oh yeah he has cancer. Alright.), so I didn’t do any editing. I did write on Monday, all afternoon, and I’d forgotten how exhausting it is. It sounds weird that sitting and writing all day would be tiring, but if you remember writing essays and how you’re braindead after? It’s like that, only you’re emotionally dead, too, because you’re so invested in it. And all the emotions the characters feel, you feel, too. So, contrary to popular belief, writing is not easy peasy.
Written Wednesday, October 12th
Random sidenote. I read an article that writing dates with the “th” at the end is incorrect. My friend and I then had a lengthy conversation trying to decide whether that was true or not. We decided that either way is correct, but that people tend to write October 12th like above but in a history book or something it would say 12 October 1589.
I just wanted to say that I survived my ride back and I still disliked it so I no longer think I’m chickening out. However, having lost my exercise method, I’m thinking about being completely crazy and walking to work in the mornings. It depends on my work schedule (which will determine my sleep schedule), but if I’m not jipping myself out of sleep, then I’ll wake up earlier and walk to work (it’s about an hour). Until it’s freezing, that is. Is that crazy? My back might not like it with my laptop in my backpack but otherwise, it’s a nice part of town with pretty buildings…
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Step Five: Stand Up for Your Hair
It’s October! Happy Autumn, everyone! The weather is certainly starting to feel like fall. It’s a good thing I bought my winter boots this weekend.
Monthly Goal: Edit my finished story and make it spick and span for anyone who might be interested in slapping a cover, a back, and a barcode on it.
This might be a bad idea to switch gears right before NaNoWriMo, but it’s high time I’ve edited it. I haven’t looked at it since the beginning of summer, though that’s a good thing. Gave me a break and a calm down. The euphoria of finishing something lasts 24 hours, tops, and then the questions and the freakouts and the worries come. So, giving yourself a break and a time to step back is a good thing.
Now it’s time to edit, and I’m feeling better about it now. Plus, a couple weeks ago, my friend gave me the biggest compliment I could ever hope to get. There are only two people I will trust to read my stories before they’re as close to perfect as I can get them. I call them my beta-readers. And one of them told me my story made her cry. (I’m assuming in a good way ;D). I’m flabbergasted and speechless.
(Don’t worry, Mom. When you finally get the story, it’s not THAT sad. It’s actually a pretty happy story.)
Enough on that, though. I’m turning superstitious and talking too much about details of writing feels like bad luck.
Week’s Goal: Start Biking
Sara’s summer roommate left us her bike and I’ve been meaning to try it out for ever, but I’m a rather lazy person. So today I’m going to get a helmet and a bike light and then theoretically on Wednesday I’ll bike to work. I’m rather terrified of biking in Boston after the wonderfulness of biking in Copenhagen buuut I’ll give it a try, at least. (If you’re confused about that – in Copenhagen bikes rule the street and are given right of way and generally need not fear cars other than a general caution…in Boston, cars hate bikes, bikes hate cars and all traffic rules and don’t much abide by anything and drivers are crazy).
I completed yesterday’s goal, which was to NOT go home directly after “work” (quickly filling out paperwork and about two hours of training at Starbucks). I walked to the library, got a book, had lunch at Panera (yummm) and then met my friend Maggie in the Public Gardens. It was a beautiful day and a guy was playing violin.
Our thought was to try to find Ryan Reynolds and Jeff Bridges, who are filming in Boston, but they weren’t filming where they were yesterday so instead we just wandered around Boston. Stopped at Faneuil Hall and watched a street performer. I love Boston.
We also decided Monday was Awesome Old People day. Because we saw so many of them. There was one woman with a light pink top and khaki skirt and BRIGHT pink tights. I want to be her when I’m older. Then a man with the best moustache I’ve ever seen (barring the photos of the moustache competition in Anchorage). Then a couple who walked by during the street performance, so the man called out to them and the old man started dancing. Then a woman carrying a bag with Stephen Colbert’s face on it I wanted to give all of them a hug.
--
And, because it’s been a while since I updated, you get an extra long update thanks to my mom. Who sent me these two articles:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/44579757/ns/health-mens_health/t/sperm-bank-redheads-not-wanted/
http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/health/2011/09/19/worlds-biggest-sperm-bank-shows-redheads-to-the-door/
Seriously? We’re not in “high demand”? It’s sort of funny but mostly kind of offensive. I was talking to someone else about it and they pointed out that if it that was skin color or something people would be up in arms. But it’s just silly little red hair. I, for one, want a red-headed child more than anything else and it’s a running joke with my friends about my need to marry a redhead so I can carry on my “species”. I’ll take pride in my hair color…it’s everyone else’s loss, to lose the most unique hair color with probably the most shades. Look at my hair color. Unrelated, I’ve had three or four conversations in the last two weeks in which people decide what to call my hair color. It’s not auburn. It’s not RED. It’s not strawberry blonde (though that’s the consensus people normally come to). Moral of the story: my hair color is my favorite part about my physical appearance and phooey on people who apparently find it undesirable. If people want to follow the crowd and have average blonde and brunette babies…their choice. But me and Queen Elizabeth, we’re going to be awesomely unique.
Monthly Goal: Edit my finished story and make it spick and span for anyone who might be interested in slapping a cover, a back, and a barcode on it.
This might be a bad idea to switch gears right before NaNoWriMo, but it’s high time I’ve edited it. I haven’t looked at it since the beginning of summer, though that’s a good thing. Gave me a break and a calm down. The euphoria of finishing something lasts 24 hours, tops, and then the questions and the freakouts and the worries come. So, giving yourself a break and a time to step back is a good thing.
Now it’s time to edit, and I’m feeling better about it now. Plus, a couple weeks ago, my friend gave me the biggest compliment I could ever hope to get. There are only two people I will trust to read my stories before they’re as close to perfect as I can get them. I call them my beta-readers. And one of them told me my story made her cry. (I’m assuming in a good way ;D). I’m flabbergasted and speechless.
(Don’t worry, Mom. When you finally get the story, it’s not THAT sad. It’s actually a pretty happy story.)
Enough on that, though. I’m turning superstitious and talking too much about details of writing feels like bad luck.
Week’s Goal: Start Biking
Sara’s summer roommate left us her bike and I’ve been meaning to try it out for ever, but I’m a rather lazy person. So today I’m going to get a helmet and a bike light and then theoretically on Wednesday I’ll bike to work. I’m rather terrified of biking in Boston after the wonderfulness of biking in Copenhagen buuut I’ll give it a try, at least. (If you’re confused about that – in Copenhagen bikes rule the street and are given right of way and generally need not fear cars other than a general caution…in Boston, cars hate bikes, bikes hate cars and all traffic rules and don’t much abide by anything and drivers are crazy).
I completed yesterday’s goal, which was to NOT go home directly after “work” (quickly filling out paperwork and about two hours of training at Starbucks). I walked to the library, got a book, had lunch at Panera (yummm) and then met my friend Maggie in the Public Gardens. It was a beautiful day and a guy was playing violin.
Our thought was to try to find Ryan Reynolds and Jeff Bridges, who are filming in Boston, but they weren’t filming where they were yesterday so instead we just wandered around Boston. Stopped at Faneuil Hall and watched a street performer. I love Boston.
We also decided Monday was Awesome Old People day. Because we saw so many of them. There was one woman with a light pink top and khaki skirt and BRIGHT pink tights. I want to be her when I’m older. Then a man with the best moustache I’ve ever seen (barring the photos of the moustache competition in Anchorage). Then a couple who walked by during the street performance, so the man called out to them and the old man started dancing. Then a woman carrying a bag with Stephen Colbert’s face on it I wanted to give all of them a hug.
--
And, because it’s been a while since I updated, you get an extra long update thanks to my mom. Who sent me these two articles:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/44579757/ns/health-mens_health/t/sperm-bank-redheads-not-wanted/
http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/health/2011/09/19/worlds-biggest-sperm-bank-shows-redheads-to-the-door/
Seriously? We’re not in “high demand”? It’s sort of funny but mostly kind of offensive. I was talking to someone else about it and they pointed out that if it that was skin color or something people would be up in arms. But it’s just silly little red hair. I, for one, want a red-headed child more than anything else and it’s a running joke with my friends about my need to marry a redhead so I can carry on my “species”. I’ll take pride in my hair color…it’s everyone else’s loss, to lose the most unique hair color with probably the most shades. Look at my hair color. Unrelated, I’ve had three or four conversations in the last two weeks in which people decide what to call my hair color. It’s not auburn. It’s not RED. It’s not strawberry blonde (though that’s the consensus people normally come to). Moral of the story: my hair color is my favorite part about my physical appearance and phooey on people who apparently find it undesirable. If people want to follow the crowd and have average blonde and brunette babies…their choice. But me and Queen Elizabeth, we’re going to be awesomely unique.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Step Four: Be Slightly Obessed with the UK
I met one of the dads at the preschool who I hadn’t met before, because one of his children was getting baptized. (Well, anointed, technically). Anyway, he and the older boy (the preschooler I take care of) looked almost exactly alike—very similar clothing. This boy’s always dressed very sharp and almost never comes to church without a tie (and, remember, he’s 3). So I went up to comment on how now we know where the boy gets his fashion sense. The man opens his mouth…and he’s Scottish. As my good friend once said (but in relation to Ihop delivery) “that good news should come with a warning label!” You know, a sign above him that says, “Just so you know, I have an awesome Scottish accent so when I talk, you’re going to be amazed.” (As you can probably tell, it was a GOOD Scottish accent. Understandable, per se. Along the lines of Craig Ferguson and David Tennant).
Year Goal – Be in England: somewhere, somehow.
Sadly, one of the first things people learn about me is that I’m an Anglophile. That’s not sad, it’s just sad that it’s so obvious it’s one of the first thing people learn about me. So, that “slightly” modifier in the title is a lie, softened to make me look better. I’m not even sure why, honestly, but can anyone tell me why they love anything, really? It probably has something to do with Harry Potter and Queen Elizabeth (ginger Elizabeth power!). And the nice accents. Doctor Who didn’t even come into the picture until I was too far gone.
So by the end of this year, the plan is to be in England or Scotland. By Scotland I mean Edinburgh. It’s a close-second or possibly tied for my favorite city. (First is Boston only because I have formed a deep attachment to this city, but it lacks a certain proportion of accented people). I may or may not have been distracted for at least half an hour after talking on the phone with my mom by looking at rent prices for apartments (flats!) in Edinburgh and York. Too soon. Too soon.
I’ve got plans and back-up plans to get there. Let’s hope at least one of them works. Then I’ll be a starving, homeless American writer under an English bridge somewhere in a box.
In other news related to my goals – I finished decorating my room! I also wrote at least a sentence every single day for the past two weeks. Except possibly Saturday, because I cannot remember if I wrote something then or was interrupted by a phone call. But I know I at least wrote a sentence in my head, so I’ll count it.
One goal I didn’t write down because I haven’t updated in a while and because it’s been a goal for two years now is that I finally went with my friend Kelly to the SoWa market, a farmer’s market/o/pen-air type thing in the South End. It’s a good thing I had no cash for the small things – delicious looking raspberries and bread – and that the big art things were too expensive. I told my friend at that moment I was sad I wasn’t a full and legitimate adult yet who could buy art for their house…or spend money on cool clock-earrings. (Or a bracelet of Henry VIII and all his wives!)
And Saturday night I cooked a delicious lasagna with my friend Conrad. So I’m being all sorts of productive. Sort of.
Year Goal – Be in England: somewhere, somehow.
Sadly, one of the first things people learn about me is that I’m an Anglophile. That’s not sad, it’s just sad that it’s so obvious it’s one of the first thing people learn about me. So, that “slightly” modifier in the title is a lie, softened to make me look better. I’m not even sure why, honestly, but can anyone tell me why they love anything, really? It probably has something to do with Harry Potter and Queen Elizabeth (ginger Elizabeth power!). And the nice accents. Doctor Who didn’t even come into the picture until I was too far gone.
So by the end of this year, the plan is to be in England or Scotland. By Scotland I mean Edinburgh. It’s a close-second or possibly tied for my favorite city. (First is Boston only because I have formed a deep attachment to this city, but it lacks a certain proportion of accented people). I may or may not have been distracted for at least half an hour after talking on the phone with my mom by looking at rent prices for apartments (flats!) in Edinburgh and York. Too soon. Too soon.
I’ve got plans and back-up plans to get there. Let’s hope at least one of them works. Then I’ll be a starving, homeless American writer under an English bridge somewhere in a box.
In other news related to my goals – I finished decorating my room! I also wrote at least a sentence every single day for the past two weeks. Except possibly Saturday, because I cannot remember if I wrote something then or was interrupted by a phone call. But I know I at least wrote a sentence in my head, so I’ll count it.
One goal I didn’t write down because I haven’t updated in a while and because it’s been a goal for two years now is that I finally went with my friend Kelly to the SoWa market, a farmer’s market/o/pen-air type thing in the South End. It’s a good thing I had no cash for the small things – delicious looking raspberries and bread – and that the big art things were too expensive. I told my friend at that moment I was sad I wasn’t a full and legitimate adult yet who could buy art for their house…or spend money on cool clock-earrings. (Or a bracelet of Henry VIII and all his wives!)
And Saturday night I cooked a delicious lasagna with my friend Conrad. So I’m being all sorts of productive. Sort of.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Step Three: Have a Love/Hate Relationship With the Red Sox
(This was actually from about Wednesday of last week, but I got a little caught up with work and tiredness. No excuse. Here’s the belated update).
I’m a Red Sox fan. You kind of have to be, by default, if you live in Boston. I mean, there are a few miserly people here who stubbornly cling on to their Yankees love or Red Sox hate, but, if you come to Boston with no preference one way or another, you become an adopted Red Sox fan. Granted, I’ve only been to one game and I didn’t get to that until four years had passed, BUT I do support them and if baseball is ever on in a restaurant, I always check to see if it’s the Red Sox and what the score is. That’s about the extent to which I will pay attention to baseball.
However, I hate Red Sox fans. I mean, I’m sure most of them are decent people, and Boston’s sport fanaticism is part of why Boston is a great city. There’s just nothing like the town spirit in sports. It’s great. Until you have to go ANYWHERE during a Red Sox game. It’s wicked awful.
They take up the T, and they don’t stop coming for hours. Seriously. There’s just masses of them. I have the unfortunate luck to work in Kenmore Square, right by Fenway Park, and the even more unfortunate luck of somehow getting out of work at different times in the week and somehow EVERY TIME being mobbed by Red Sox crowds. Either coming or going. They’re always there. I go down into Kenmore Station and they’re all along the platform, jostling me as I try to get to my spot where I wait for the T. Then, they’re on the T I try to take, and me with my bulky backpack has to shove my way onto the T and breathe the heat and the stink of a way too full T and become friendly with unknown people.
So. No offense to all those wonderful people, but I hate Red Sox fans.
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I had at least three updates planned for the last week. But then work decided to beat me up a bit. Like, how my daily goal for the day I wrote the above was “go to the gym” but that didn’t work out…because I felt like I’d already been to the gym all day. That counts, right??
So, since I don’t actually have the time or brainpower to have a real update with goals, here is something related to the previous post: how to deal with fear of spiders!
(I like to think my actual writing is better than this, but hey, I wrote this in about an hour…)
I’m a Red Sox fan. You kind of have to be, by default, if you live in Boston. I mean, there are a few miserly people here who stubbornly cling on to their Yankees love or Red Sox hate, but, if you come to Boston with no preference one way or another, you become an adopted Red Sox fan. Granted, I’ve only been to one game and I didn’t get to that until four years had passed, BUT I do support them and if baseball is ever on in a restaurant, I always check to see if it’s the Red Sox and what the score is. That’s about the extent to which I will pay attention to baseball.
However, I hate Red Sox fans. I mean, I’m sure most of them are decent people, and Boston’s sport fanaticism is part of why Boston is a great city. There’s just nothing like the town spirit in sports. It’s great. Until you have to go ANYWHERE during a Red Sox game. It’s wicked awful.
They take up the T, and they don’t stop coming for hours. Seriously. There’s just masses of them. I have the unfortunate luck to work in Kenmore Square, right by Fenway Park, and the even more unfortunate luck of somehow getting out of work at different times in the week and somehow EVERY TIME being mobbed by Red Sox crowds. Either coming or going. They’re always there. I go down into Kenmore Station and they’re all along the platform, jostling me as I try to get to my spot where I wait for the T. Then, they’re on the T I try to take, and me with my bulky backpack has to shove my way onto the T and breathe the heat and the stink of a way too full T and become friendly with unknown people.
So. No offense to all those wonderful people, but I hate Red Sox fans.
--
I had at least three updates planned for the last week. But then work decided to beat me up a bit. Like, how my daily goal for the day I wrote the above was “go to the gym” but that didn’t work out…because I felt like I’d already been to the gym all day. That counts, right??
So, since I don’t actually have the time or brainpower to have a real update with goals, here is something related to the previous post: how to deal with fear of spiders!
(I like to think my actual writing is better than this, but hey, I wrote this in about an hour…)
Larry was a bookspider (as opposed to a bookworm, a rather insulting term which implied a spider was slow or over-gorging), and therefore he preferred staying home and reading his webs to exploring the world. Therefore, he was having trouble adjusting to his new web. He had not met all the neighbors yet, but the downstairs web hosted a rather large spider who seemed kind of sinister. Then again, all other spiders seemed sinister to Larry, who was bad at starting up conversation.
After reading all the webs he could in his hometown and earning the recommendation from his professors, Larry had set out to explore a new location out of necessity. He’d learned all he could but he still wanted to learn more. The only solution was to move.
Searching had been hard at first, because he didn’t know what he wanted. Did he want a bigger, airier space, a damp earth home, or a dry, cramped corner? He’d come from the open, a grassy area near some trees. A house was a big change. By the time he found his real estate next to the big machine the landlord had called a “washing machine” he was tired and ready to settle down, but he also genuinely liked it. There were loud noises occasionally, but they intrigued rather than frightened him. It was only that his downstairs neighbor was too close for comfort and the spiders down the ways in the basement were too far away to bother meeting.
Things were going well for the bookspider. The days were comfortably warm, though the air was getting cooler each night. He built his web efficiently but sturdily. Every once in a while he heard thumps above, but his home was snug. He began to think he quite liked living in a house.
“Aiieeeeee!” A shriek pierced the air, startling Larry from his musings about the origin of the cosmos. He looked up to see a looming figure with eyes larger than his own body staring at him. “Spider! How am I supposed to do my laundry now?” The voice was high pitched and shook Larry’s body; it was the most terrifying thing he’d ever heard, and he scrambled behind the white box, afraid to even peek around the corner to see what was going on. A mumble of voices continued for a while and then his body began shaking. It wasn’t just him; the entire box he clung to with all his strength was moving, rumbling, tumbling. With another jolt of fear, Larry scrambled back to his web which, thankfully, only twitched a little.
What was this devilry? How could he ever have believed living in a house was a good idea? And those eyes? Larry shivered remembering those eyes. They were so big…so…white…so…creepy. He’d heard stories of humans, of course, and even vaguely seen them from a distance but he had been told they were dangerous, deadly even, if you crossed the wrong one. He cowered in his web, waiting, even after there were no more sounds.
Larry must have fallen asleep, because he woke up to some shuffling of feet, a pause, then the noise of a door opening. The spider peeked around the corner and saw the human bending over, moving fabric from Larry’s white box into the other white box.
“Hello,” her voice came quietly. “Are you there, spider?”
Larry almost jumped off his web at being addressed. “Yes, I’m here!” he squeaked out.
She didn’t appear to hear him, but she continued speaking. Maybe his small spider voice was too quiet for human ears. “My name’s Melissa. I’m going to be doing my laundry here, sometimes, okay?”
“Okay,” Larry replied. This human didn’t seem so bad after all.
“I know I’m invading your home, so please don’t be mad at me. I’ll just be down every once in a while.”
“That’s okay,” Larry said, but she still didn’t act like she heard him.
Melissa left for a while, but when the second white box stopped vibrating, she came back down. “How are you doing today, spider? I’m doing okay. I don’t really like doing laundry that much, and I’m kind of scared of spiders, but I guess it’s okay since we had this talk.”
Larry began to think living in a house might not be as scary as he first thought.
Melissa left again, and Larry didn’t see her for a while. A few other humans came down; they were not as talkative as Melissa, but they left Larry alone. After several weeks, though, Melissa came down again.
“Hi, spider. It’s that time again. Laundry time. How has life been? For me it’s been good. I just got back from softball practice. We have a big game against our rivals this weekend. Better get my uniform cleaned up, eh?”
The next time she came down, she brought not only more news but also food. “My friend’s coming to visit after the game. Maybe you’ll meet her—she’s kind of messy so she might spill food on her clothes,” she informed Larry as she sprinkled some cracker crumbs on the floor next to his web. Larry had never had human food and was a little wary of it, but, though a little hard, the crumbs were fairly tasty.
Over time, as Larry studied his surroundings and continued on his task of discovering more about the world, he began to look forward to Melissa’s laundry visits, even coming to think of her as a friend. He only wished he could somehow speak to her. Every time he tried to speak to her, she acted as if she hadn’t heard.
Larry tried many things. He tried jumping around, making more noise than spiders usually did. He tried speaking in high tones and low tones. He tried screaming. Nothing reached Melissa. But then, one day, one of the other humans in the house left a book down in the laundry room. As the page lay open, Larry, with his bookspider tendencies, crawled over to the table and read the words written. It was a science textbook, and the page talked all about amplification of sound. Larry had found his solution.
He thought and thought for several days, then organized his web, remembering what he had learned about science and sound from the person’s textbook. Then, he waited for Melissa to do her laundry.
It was a cold, rainy day when Melissa came down again. “Hi, spider,” she said glumly, her voice strangely muted. “I have a cold. I hate being sick.”
“Hi, Melissa,” Larry replied, and he could hear his voice booming louder than it ever had.
Melissa paused and looked around. “Who was that?”
“Me. Larry, the spider you’ve been talking to for several months.”
“Is this a joke? Carol, is that you?” Melissa looked around.
“No!” Larry almost yelled, worried all his work would be in vain. “Look down!” Thankfully, Melissa did look down, and Larry waved one of his legs. The girl took a step back, clapping her hand to her mouth, then rubbing her eyes.
Larry felt sheepish. He hadn’t meant to startle her. “Hello?” he said again tentatively.
Melissa stared at Larry, then giggled. “Your name is Larry?”
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Step Two: Hate Spiders
That last post was so hectic and full of grammar mistakes. I blame it on the 11 12-hour days I’d just had. But, really, who am I kidding? When I write as me-Elizabeth and not writer-Elizabeth, I write like I speak, so grammar mistakes are bound to abound. (See what I did there?)
Daily Goal: Get over my fear of spiders so I can do my laundry.
It’s amazing having my first day off after twelve days, but I feel jet-lagged, like I’ve just flown to Alaska and haven’t slept for 25 days. Sheesh, who knew working so hard could be so exhausting? And I’m rather sore all over, but hopefully I’ll get gigantic muscles from lifting all those crazy boxes – someone ordered a futon. A futon!! I’ve seen those dorm rooms. If it fits, it’s going to fit EXACTLY.
Our landlady came today to go over the apartment with us. She seems nice enough and said not to worry about the nicks in our walls and things, though she signed our apartment condition report as “good condition” and said she wouldn’t hold us accountable for the aforementioned nicks. I hope she’s as nice and trustworthy as she seems! It’s a good thing she came, because the laundry machine was broken, and she had me test it. So she was able to fix it. There’s only one washing machine and dryer for three three-bedroom apartments, which could be interesting, and the washer takes 45 minutes. Plus, $2 a load for each washer and dryer. Eep, more expensive than BU, and I complained about that!
The worst part, though, is how sketchy the room is. It’s in the basement, so it’s kind of dirt floor, and there are cobwebs EVERYWHERE. When I was putting my laundry in, I noticed a spider chilling next to the washer and was trying not to freak out. Then, it disappeared, but by the floor was a GIGANTIC spider. Maybe a daddy long legs, but I don’t care either way. It’s huge. I don’t like it. I don’t like doing my laundry anymore.
On the plus side, my room may not be perfectly organized, but it’s at least nicely set up, and really all I have to arrange now is the decorations. And we discovered a grocery store right on the bus line, which will be much easier than the other one .8 mile walk from here, which would be annoying enough with heavy groceries, let alone with heavy groceries in the winter. So, things are looking good.
Time to change my laundry and then take a nap. If I don’t get killed by spiders first.
Daily Goal: Get over my fear of spiders so I can do my laundry.
It’s amazing having my first day off after twelve days, but I feel jet-lagged, like I’ve just flown to Alaska and haven’t slept for 25 days. Sheesh, who knew working so hard could be so exhausting? And I’m rather sore all over, but hopefully I’ll get gigantic muscles from lifting all those crazy boxes – someone ordered a futon. A futon!! I’ve seen those dorm rooms. If it fits, it’s going to fit EXACTLY.
Our landlady came today to go over the apartment with us. She seems nice enough and said not to worry about the nicks in our walls and things, though she signed our apartment condition report as “good condition” and said she wouldn’t hold us accountable for the aforementioned nicks. I hope she’s as nice and trustworthy as she seems! It’s a good thing she came, because the laundry machine was broken, and she had me test it. So she was able to fix it. There’s only one washing machine and dryer for three three-bedroom apartments, which could be interesting, and the washer takes 45 minutes. Plus, $2 a load for each washer and dryer. Eep, more expensive than BU, and I complained about that!
The worst part, though, is how sketchy the room is. It’s in the basement, so it’s kind of dirt floor, and there are cobwebs EVERYWHERE. When I was putting my laundry in, I noticed a spider chilling next to the washer and was trying not to freak out. Then, it disappeared, but by the floor was a GIGANTIC spider. Maybe a daddy long legs, but I don’t care either way. It’s huge. I don’t like it. I don’t like doing my laundry anymore.
On the plus side, my room may not be perfectly organized, but it’s at least nicely set up, and really all I have to arrange now is the decorations. And we discovered a grocery store right on the bus line, which will be much easier than the other one .8 mile walk from here, which would be annoying enough with heavy groceries, let alone with heavy groceries in the winter. So, things are looking good.
Time to change my laundry and then take a nap. If I don’t get killed by spiders first.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Step One: Start a blog!
September 8, 2011
Hey, look! I’m writing an entry! Or, rambling, more like. The whole “goal” thing is really just a disguise for the ability to ramble until you’re bored stiff or think I’m crazy.
Daily goal: Do not lash out at students, even if they have stupid questions
This one will probably be tricky for me. I’ve been working 8-8 in the BU mailroom since August 29th, and it was fine at first, but now classes have started and many, many more boxes have arrived, and I’ve been basically doing double the work as anyone else (a long story, involving BU not having enough staff/not wanting to pay an extra person for two weeks to help out this teensy tiny supervisor). So I’m on the end of my tether, and last night, even if people were nice, I feared I was giving them death glares and was about ready to snap. Or go postal. Har har har.
Weekly goal: do not spontaneously combust; do laundry, clean/organize room, make real food
This whole 8-8 thing has been rather stressful. I still haven’t been able to fully unpack my room, because I get home around 8:30, do an hour of work, get ready for bed, and crash. Fun stuff. Meaning that this weekend I have a heck of a lot of chores to do. The making of real food will be nice. Having to bring lunch and dinner to work is tricky, since it means I have to only bring things that can be microwaved or easy-to-carry stuff. I’ve had some soup, lots and lots of leftover pizza from move-in night, and cheese and crackers. But I have all the ingredients for chicken fettuccini alfredo with broccoli, so I’m excited for the weekend! (I also have to go grocery shopping, though my roommate Sara always says I have plenty of food already, but everything I had was non-perishable, and I’d like some fresh stuff to supplement my emergency supply of canned food—emergency simply being when I’m too lazy/tired to make food). <---Run-on sentence alert!
Monthly writing goal: 5000 words in a new story; edit the old
I’m setting my writing goal low right now, to get the hang of things. That’s about 10 pages, so maybe it’s not that low: if I wrote ten pages a month, in a year I’d have a novel (I’ve figured that one page in a book is about ½-1/3 Word page, meaning it’s three pages to every page I write. So if I write 100 pages, I have between 250-300 book pages. Not a too shabbily-sized book, I’d say). So, upon second thought, regarding how busy I am, 5000 words is sort of impressive. But, I have to prepare for November, which is National Novel Writing Month, in which I must attempt to write 50,000 words. AND there’s only 30 days in that month!
If you haven’t figured it out yet – I’m a writer. I don’t tell many people this for several reasons: 1. I get one of two responses – “That’s so awesome, what do you write???” or “Really? What’s your other plan in life?”
2. To both responses, I hate answering. The first is kind of awkward. Maybe other writers are different, but for me, what is written is meant to be written, not spoken about. It sounds strange out loud. It’s also a highly personal pastime, even if eventually it will (hopefully) be shared with the world. Writing comes from within, and every word on paper could either be likened to a piece of my soul or a drop of blood, depending on how hard I had to work to get that word there. The second is just completely wrong. What someone who isn’t a writer (and I don’t mean a writer in the sense of someone who writes papers for school, or who occasionally writes down story ideas and says “I’ve always wanted to write/publish a book one day”, I mean someone who IS a writer – who is always dreaming, who comes up with ideas at the randomest times, who gets antsy when he/she hasn’t written in too long) doesn’t understand is that it’s not a “plan in life”. It IS life.
As my parents will tell you, recently I’ve had a frustratingly last-minute life-evaluation, meaning what I’d thought I wanted to do since sophomore year changed, and I no longer want to do it, and now I’m figuring out what I want my “job” to be. I think I’ve figured it out, but the reason it’s so hard, is because the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, down to my bones, is write. It’s a vocation, if you will, and while I realize it’s not as profitable as other vocations nor will it be as easy to reach, it’s the ONLY thing I can 100% see myself doing. So choosing a “backup” job isn’t very easy.
About as easy as publishing. Sara (the “you have too much food” roommate) told me the way to go is getting an internet fan base. You know, become a vlogger or start an internet zine or something. But to get popular that way, you have to have something snazzy, like some high-concept Adjustment Bureau-type thing, or something trendy like zombies. Not like my current story, which is girl falls down hole into magical world, meets strange white rabbit who’s late—errr…I mean, fiddle-playing boy—who leads her home, mishaps, adventures, and general silliness ensues.
I swear I didn’t actually rip-off Alice in Wonderland. It’s more Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, and other such stories wrapped together. And all started one day when I was just sitting in my room and one line of dialogue came to me. Then, I took a fateful car ride with three of my favorite children in which aforementioned fiddle-playing boy was invented…and then on the ride home, more of their antics had inspired more ideas, thus in the span of a day creating about the first three chapters. Then, I went to Edinburgh, saw a carousel in the park, and another chapter was born…not that that’s how most of my inspiration works, but for this story, it was very much “Oh, look at what happened there, that can go in the story!” A hodge-podge of events. (Hodge-podge is my word of the month. Been using it far too often.)
Well, better actually do some work now…
Hey, look! I’m writing an entry! Or, rambling, more like. The whole “goal” thing is really just a disguise for the ability to ramble until you’re bored stiff or think I’m crazy.
Daily goal: Do not lash out at students, even if they have stupid questions
This one will probably be tricky for me. I’ve been working 8-8 in the BU mailroom since August 29th, and it was fine at first, but now classes have started and many, many more boxes have arrived, and I’ve been basically doing double the work as anyone else (a long story, involving BU not having enough staff/not wanting to pay an extra person for two weeks to help out this teensy tiny supervisor). So I’m on the end of my tether, and last night, even if people were nice, I feared I was giving them death glares and was about ready to snap. Or go postal. Har har har.
Weekly goal: do not spontaneously combust; do laundry, clean/organize room, make real food
This whole 8-8 thing has been rather stressful. I still haven’t been able to fully unpack my room, because I get home around 8:30, do an hour of work, get ready for bed, and crash. Fun stuff. Meaning that this weekend I have a heck of a lot of chores to do. The making of real food will be nice. Having to bring lunch and dinner to work is tricky, since it means I have to only bring things that can be microwaved or easy-to-carry stuff. I’ve had some soup, lots and lots of leftover pizza from move-in night, and cheese and crackers. But I have all the ingredients for chicken fettuccini alfredo with broccoli, so I’m excited for the weekend! (I also have to go grocery shopping, though my roommate Sara always says I have plenty of food already, but everything I had was non-perishable, and I’d like some fresh stuff to supplement my emergency supply of canned food—emergency simply being when I’m too lazy/tired to make food). <---Run-on sentence alert!
Monthly writing goal: 5000 words in a new story; edit the old
I’m setting my writing goal low right now, to get the hang of things. That’s about 10 pages, so maybe it’s not that low: if I wrote ten pages a month, in a year I’d have a novel (I’ve figured that one page in a book is about ½-1/3 Word page, meaning it’s three pages to every page I write. So if I write 100 pages, I have between 250-300 book pages. Not a too shabbily-sized book, I’d say). So, upon second thought, regarding how busy I am, 5000 words is sort of impressive. But, I have to prepare for November, which is National Novel Writing Month, in which I must attempt to write 50,000 words. AND there’s only 30 days in that month!
If you haven’t figured it out yet – I’m a writer. I don’t tell many people this for several reasons: 1. I get one of two responses – “That’s so awesome, what do you write???” or “Really? What’s your other plan in life?”
2. To both responses, I hate answering. The first is kind of awkward. Maybe other writers are different, but for me, what is written is meant to be written, not spoken about. It sounds strange out loud. It’s also a highly personal pastime, even if eventually it will (hopefully) be shared with the world. Writing comes from within, and every word on paper could either be likened to a piece of my soul or a drop of blood, depending on how hard I had to work to get that word there. The second is just completely wrong. What someone who isn’t a writer (and I don’t mean a writer in the sense of someone who writes papers for school, or who occasionally writes down story ideas and says “I’ve always wanted to write/publish a book one day”, I mean someone who IS a writer – who is always dreaming, who comes up with ideas at the randomest times, who gets antsy when he/she hasn’t written in too long) doesn’t understand is that it’s not a “plan in life”. It IS life.
As my parents will tell you, recently I’ve had a frustratingly last-minute life-evaluation, meaning what I’d thought I wanted to do since sophomore year changed, and I no longer want to do it, and now I’m figuring out what I want my “job” to be. I think I’ve figured it out, but the reason it’s so hard, is because the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, down to my bones, is write. It’s a vocation, if you will, and while I realize it’s not as profitable as other vocations nor will it be as easy to reach, it’s the ONLY thing I can 100% see myself doing. So choosing a “backup” job isn’t very easy.
About as easy as publishing. Sara (the “you have too much food” roommate) told me the way to go is getting an internet fan base. You know, become a vlogger or start an internet zine or something. But to get popular that way, you have to have something snazzy, like some high-concept Adjustment Bureau-type thing, or something trendy like zombies. Not like my current story, which is girl falls down hole into magical world, meets strange white rabbit who’s late—errr…I mean, fiddle-playing boy—who leads her home, mishaps, adventures, and general silliness ensues.
I swear I didn’t actually rip-off Alice in Wonderland. It’s more Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, and other such stories wrapped together. And all started one day when I was just sitting in my room and one line of dialogue came to me. Then, I took a fateful car ride with three of my favorite children in which aforementioned fiddle-playing boy was invented…and then on the ride home, more of their antics had inspired more ideas, thus in the span of a day creating about the first three chapters. Then, I went to Edinburgh, saw a carousel in the park, and another chapter was born…not that that’s how most of my inspiration works, but for this story, it was very much “Oh, look at what happened there, that can go in the story!” A hodge-podge of events. (Hodge-podge is my word of the month. Been using it far too often.)
Well, better actually do some work now…
Something New
August 20, 2011
Just for the fun of it, I’m starting a blog. I can’t guarantee how long it will last or whether it will be regularly updated, but hey, why not? I want to devise a series of goals for myself – daily goals, weekly goals, monthly goals…I’ve decided it’s good to have goals. Maybe I’m not carpe diem enough, but it’s nice to have something to accomplish, even if it’s small. Also, goals make time go faster (or, at least, my “to do list” every day with school work and errands always made my days seem horribly short), and as much as I love Boston and I’m looking forward to spending a entire year straight through here, I’m also getting a bit impatient for my adventure to England (at which time I’ll probably start a new stranger in a strange land-esque blog and tell you all the crazy things that happens to an American when she gets it in her head that she should live in the land of her red-headed brethren), so why not set myself some goals to make the time go by faster?
These goals might be weighty or flighty – from cooking something new to writing a certain number of words in a story to actually going to the gym to remembering to carry around change in my pocket to give to beggars, whether they are actually in need or not. Oh, and also trying as many of the little places in Quincy Market as possible. That one’s essential.
I’ll start soon, once I get settled and make myself my first list of goals. Then we’ll see how this pans out.
Bon voyage!
Just for the fun of it, I’m starting a blog. I can’t guarantee how long it will last or whether it will be regularly updated, but hey, why not? I want to devise a series of goals for myself – daily goals, weekly goals, monthly goals…I’ve decided it’s good to have goals. Maybe I’m not carpe diem enough, but it’s nice to have something to accomplish, even if it’s small. Also, goals make time go faster (or, at least, my “to do list” every day with school work and errands always made my days seem horribly short), and as much as I love Boston and I’m looking forward to spending a entire year straight through here, I’m also getting a bit impatient for my adventure to England (at which time I’ll probably start a new stranger in a strange land-esque blog and tell you all the crazy things that happens to an American when she gets it in her head that she should live in the land of her red-headed brethren), so why not set myself some goals to make the time go by faster?
These goals might be weighty or flighty – from cooking something new to writing a certain number of words in a story to actually going to the gym to remembering to carry around change in my pocket to give to beggars, whether they are actually in need or not. Oh, and also trying as many of the little places in Quincy Market as possible. That one’s essential.
I’ll start soon, once I get settled and make myself my first list of goals. Then we’ll see how this pans out.
Bon voyage!
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