You know, I started up a second livejournal just to house my short stories/blurbs, and completely forgot I had this one as well. Oh well.

Too bad I also have no time to post anything, as I have to wake up before the sun comes up again tomorrow for work. Time for sleep...

I've been dragging my feet the past couple days and working on my short story and other ridiculous projects instead of finishing the novel. I've written about three paragraphs over the course of the past three days - it's a terrible amount of progress. In fact, I can't even rightfully call it progress.

I know I'm in the last quarter of the book. But it's the last quarter. I'm reluctant and excited to finish all at the same time. But it shouldn't be quite this difficult. I'm worried that I made a wrong turn somewhere very far back in the draft, and it's starting to cause logical problems now. But I can't pinpoint any particular moment where it looks like I chose the wrong path.

Plus, it's not the content that's giving me an issue. I know exactly what happens. I've finally made final decisions on things like deaths and resolutions. It's the actual writing. Everything coming out feels dry and flat and boring. I keep picking up novels at random, ones that usually inspire me, but I haven't seemed to hit the right one yet. Though I have avoided the ones I know I'll have to finish reading in their entirety once I start. Maybe that's the key.

I've been rewatching Season 1 of Lost instead. It reminds me of why I fell in love with the show in the beginning. It's just so different now. It's nice to go back to the roots.

If only I could remember what I was reading last July. I had a few fantastically creative months there.

Early this morning, I had to get to the airport.

I called for a cab to come pick me up. Imagine my surprise when President Obama pulls up in an open-top Jeep to take me to Metro.

I don't know where I was coming from, but we had to cross over a border. The woman at the border stopped our car, took Obama's license from him, and then rolled her eyes. Then she looked at me and said, "is that really him?"

Why ask me? "Yes, it is."

She waved us through.

I woke up.

I was going to answer envy, but now that I think about it more, the answer is definitely sloth.

For example, I had this plan to exercise this morning. I've had that plan for a few months.

How many times have I executed said plan? Zero.

I'm blaming it on the weather. Once it gets warm, I'll be back to taking long walks in the mile long graveyard here.

This is a new one for me...

I just got a text message on my phone from an "unknown number." It says: Hello :P I took ur number off my friend, I bet you won't guess who this is! oh I'm too shy.. look me up online, my profile is [url].

Hmm. Sounds fishy to me. Not replying. Not checking out their "profile." If a friend of a friend was actually interested in me, they'd ask my friend to say something, right?

Type text message scams into google, and not surprisingly get a lot of results. My guess is that this one intends to get me to that "dating/networking" site and put in my credit card number and/or other personal information.

Nice try!

Anyone else experienced something like that?

Well, it's that time of year. My trash can is full of used kleenex and tea is my very best friend.

I took some Dayquil about two hours ago. I only took half a dose, because the last time I took both pills, my head was spinning and I felt like passing out. I'm a small person...apparently my system doesn't like processing that much medicine. But this time, holy LORD my brain was absolutely racing even with one pill. It felt about two steps ahead of what the rest of my body was doing, and I knew I was driveling, but couldn't seem to help myself. Was also quite twitchy. Thankfully, that seems to have settled down, though my ability to write has not returned. Which is why I'm on livejournal. And continually checking facebook.

I hope that the cover letters I wrote while 'under the influence,' as it were, are sensible.

New Lost episode tonight! All rejoice!

As a not direct link from last week's dream...I give you: Something's Amiss in Sweden.

It was time for the annual dance competition. Studios from all over the world were flocking to this year's location - Sweden. My mother and I arrived a few days early, as we always did. Ever since the first time our flight was delayed and we missed the opening night of the competition, we've both been a bit paranoid.

So there we were in Sweden, in a little motel with wide stairwells and broken elevators. None of my friends had arrived yet, so I was wandering the streets of Sweden - which looked suspiciously like Denver, even though I've only seen that in pictures too. I met up with another group of performers who were there for their annual competition. I use the term performers loosely, because they were actually there for the international debate finals.

One young man had dark hair, carried around a pack of notecards, and took a fancy to me. I can't remember his name, so for the sake of this, I'll dub him Henry. The first night, Henry and I went scuba diving. Where, I'm not entirely clear. It was when we were coming back to the hotel and climbing the stairs, breathless from laughing, that I heard it.

A snarl, not unlike that of a lion, at our backs.

"Keep moving," I told Henry, determined to act as if nothing was wrong.

"Why?" He was an intensely curious person, though he lacked common sense, and turned around.

At that point, there was no harm in me turning too. He'd already broken the imaginary seal on our safety. As I turned, my eyes met with the yellow, lidless cat-pupil-eyes of a large and smoke belching dragon.

"Run!" I screamed, and started taking the stairs two at a time. I heard Henry stumble behind me and turned around just in time to snatch him from the dragon's looming teeth. It roared at its failure and threw its shoulders forward to follow us. The plaster of the hotel started cracking, and the walls buckled as the dragon's bulk pushed them out of the way. The stairwell started to collapse, and as I reached the third level, I threw myself into an alcove off the stairway. I slammed into the soft front of a Coke machine, and sat on the floor, panting in its red florescent glow.

Henry did not follow me. After a few seconds, I grew worried. "Henry?" No response.

"Henry!" I called a little louder. Everything was silent. Was I next? Was the dragon sitting, waiting for me to come out of the door?

"Out here," Henry's voice finally came, wafting through the smoke at the door.

Tentatively, I stood up and pushed myself off from the vending machine. I was shaking, and my blood was still racing so fast through my ears that I could hear it. I stepped back out in to the stairwell, and there stood Henry, his hair plastered to his face with sweat, and five of his other debaters. One, inexplicably, was brandishing a sword. The dragon lay dead at their feet, its tongue lolling out of its still open mouth. Crumbles of ceiling and brick and drywall were scattered around its corpse.

"How did you...how did you do that?" I stuttered.

Henry's sword bearing friend shrugged. "I've been practicing."

Before I could contemplate the number of ways that statement was odd, I woke up.

But it's fun anyway.

SCATTERGORIES...it's harder than it looks! Use the FIRST letter of your name to answer each of the following. They have to be real places, names, things.. nothing made up! Try to use different answers if the person in front of you had the same 1st initial. You CAN'T use your name for the boy/girl name question.


WHAT IS YOUR NAME: Erin

I've been trying to get back into the habit of writing daily. I got slow and lazy about it during the holidays, and around my surgery just felt like doing nothing creative at all (which I suppose I can forgive myself for...to a point) but the problem with taking time off writing is that it is so hard to get back to doing it every day. The past week I've done pretty well. I haven't been hitting the number of words I used to, or would like to be hitting, but I'm at least writing something every day.

There is one strange -- albeit amusing -- side effect to this.

I spend so much time in my characters head, that I continue thinking like them after I've finished writing what I want to accomplish. Thoughts of how so-and-so would react to mundane situations from my own life start cropping up in my head uninvited, but not unwelcome. It's a good thing to know your characters inside and out, after all. But just five minutes ago, I was browsing a blog on celebrity gossip (I know, I know...but it's my guilty pleasure) and unexpectedly but distinctly, I heard my main character's voice in my head -- "Wow. He's hot."

When I have moments like those, it's kind of creepy, and kind of cool. I smiled to myself and went about my business. I know I'm not insane, but I'm never quite sure how I come off when I share things like this. Usually it's a raised eyebrow, slowly back away type of reaction. Which is normally why I keep my mouth shut. I felt like sharing this time.

But now I have the urge to write...

Excellent.

For my birthday last year, Kate got me a desktop calender called "Forgotten English." It has a new word for me each day that has gone out of popular use. Being the word junkie that I am, she guessed -- rightly -- that I would greatly enjoy this calender.

I couldn't wait until January 1 so I could finally open it. Some of the words make me laugh, others are just interesting. Today's is "tissick," which it defines as "A tickling faint cough."

What I'm coming to like more than the words is the little story blurb that accompanies each one. Sometimes they're only vaguely related. Today's lists an excerpt of London mortality records for a week in 1665. Down at the bottom, I noticed one listing as "the French pox [venereal disease], 2" and laughed. Trust them to name a STD after the French...

EDIT:
According to http://fascinatinghistory.blogspot.com/2005/05/french-pox.html :

"Why they called it French is because of a notorious outbreak of it in the French army, but you may know that this phrase referes to the dreaded Syphilis. The disease is thought to have reached Europe from America, via Columbus's ships and the first known epidemic struck Italy in the late 1400s. Interestingly enough it has been called the English disesase by the French, Polish by the Russians, and the Christian disease by the tribes of the Arabian lands."

I had a very interesting dream last night, as I often do. Presenting: Armageddon

After applying awake-time reasoning to it (which isn't usually a good idea, with dreams) I've decided that the premise of my dream was that the veil between Heaven and Earth had thinned. The end of the world was coming. Satan was gathering an army of dead souls, and Jesus was in the sky. The sky itself was flashing all different tones of red, orange and purple, and I could occasionally glimpse Christ battling "evil." Evil in my dream was represented by a large plume of smoke, and He seemed to be fighting it off using a variety of kung-fu moves.

On Earth, I was one of the only living creatures (I say this because we weren't all human...) that was able to see what was happening in the other realms. I could see in to Hell and judge the size of Satan's army, which grew by the second. My companions were a talking lynx and a made-up being I have no name for; she was very small, and glided across the ground to move. I can't remember the details any sharper than that. What we were supposed to do was find a way to get everyone to Heaven (or at least to some other safe realm) before Satan could assault Earth.

I spent most of my dream secretly trying to find the safe way out of Earth. I say secretly, because I was also stuck in what was more or less a boarding school with people who couldn't see between realms and did not believe me. After several days of back and forth, during which I would sneak out of the dorms at night to meet up with my lynx friend in the forest and we would spend all night searching for clues on where to find the path, the sky caught on fire. Except no one else could see. Then, during a fencing lesson, my lynx friend suddenly dashed across the yard. Following her with my eyes, I saw that she was sprinting towards a winding mountain path that led up to a golden colored sky. I cried out in joy, thinking she had finally found the path, dropped my rapier, and took off after her.

As I drew closer, the path narrowed and the sky beyond darkened to a furious brick red shot through with black. My lynx friend ran up the path and disappeared. It had been a false trail, and now she was gone. My other companion interceded before I could continue (I was running in almost a trance) and led me in the opposite direction, telling me we didn't have much time.

Then, much to my disappointment, my cat jumped on my chest and it was over.

No, I wasn't on any drugs. I haven't drank in weeks. This was just a strange culmination of just about everything I've been thinking about in the past two weeks. It was a really fun dream, if a bit trippy...

I had a most enlightening and unusual Sunday.

I started off my day by sleeping in and showering late, which is par for the course on a Sunday. Then, I went with my mom to my younger brother's hockey team. He's sixteen and on a AAA team now, so the game is a lot different than when I last saw him play four or so years ago, when they still were not allowed to check. It's a much faster and rougher game, and overall much more interesting to watch. They actually play now instead of following the puck around like a flock of birds.

But the mothers...they're a different story. They haven't changed much, from what I remember. Still yelling and getting upset when someone hits their boy. I understand it, but come on - it's hockey! Hell, any sport. People are going to get hit. But that wasn't what bothered me the most. It was one mother in particular, who kept using the phrase "how hard can it be?" Several times, I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from turning around and spitting out "well if it's so easy to pass/shoot/make a breakaway - you go do it."

Then there are the fourteen-year old rink hoes, but we won't get in to that. Suffice it to say that with the amount of makeup they wore, they looked more my age than their own, and according to the rumors, act more like they're in their twenties too, if you know what I mean.

After that, my mom and I headed to my aunt and uncle's house for the annual Candypalooza event, which we had not attended before. Last year we got snowed out, and the years before we just didn't make it for whatever reason. It's a cookie exchange/candy making event, which actually turned out fun. I'd never made Christmas candy before, so getting to help was interesting. It's not something I'd probably ever pursue on my own, but in the assembly line with three other people, that was fine.

Now it's time to shower so I can continue to search for non-existent job postings, and work a bit on the book (hopefully).

It's my five-year high school reunion tonight. It's a simple affair, just rented a room out at one of the local bar/pool halls. I'm heading up for a bit with a friend of mine, but I'm not actually too interested. I'll probably end up being pleasantly surprised, so I'm keeping an open mind, but after getting bored and rereading some of my high school journals a few weeks ago, I'm reminded of all the things I'd rather not revisit. Then again, hopefully everyone is able to just let the past be. I'm not nearly the same person I was when I graduated five years ago, why shouldn't that hold true for everyone else?

Thanksgiving was fun, as always. The past few years, my family (mother's side) gatherings have always turned into game fests, and last night was no different. We all had fun laughing at the ridiculous cards people would throw in Apples to Apples (which is a hilarious game anyway) just to get them out of their hand. Glazed Donuts? Cuddly. Why yes, yes they are.

The day before Thanksgiving, I finally headed out to see Twilight with my best friend and my mom, who both enjoyed the books as well. I must admit I was well, underwhelmed. I can't pinpoint it exactly, but I think it had to do with the script, mainly. Yes, I understand that Bella's interactions with Charlie are somewhat awkward, but there just seemed to be too much 'quiet' in the movie, I guess. I would have appreciated more dialogue between Bella and Edward so that by the time they're declaring themselves in love with each other, I could believe it. I guess it's hard to translate it to screen, though. Since the book is written so much in Bella's head, it's hard to get the "I don't know why this gorgeous boy is fascinated by my dull life but I'm really loving it" thing into glances/dialogue. I did find the fight scene great. James was perfect, just as he had been in my head while I read. And even though I obviously knew the ending going in, it wasn't until I saw it in the movie that I had any fear that Edward would actually kill Bella there at the end. I loved that effect, which I never got while reading the book. And there you have it. I'm no movie reviewer, but that's just what I felt when I left.

Let's see, also made minor progress with the book, emphasis on minor. Worked in a few more plot twists to the master plan, and finally wrapped up Julyan's mini chapter. He gets continually more difficult to write as I go on. He's so depressed. It's sounds weird and/or certifiably crazy, but I didn't realize this until I was driving to work on Wednesday morning. I was listening to this song called "And So it Goes" by Billy Joel, and the combination of hormones, lyrics, and spending time in Julyan's head suddenly had me crying. The boy is absolutely heart-broken, which I now feel bad for doing to him, but at least I know why his voice comes out on the page so melancholy.

I think I should start reading poetry, so that my writing has a prayer of getting more beautiful. I'm too heavily influenced by whatever I read last, as far as my tone/vocabulary goes. Since I just spent the past three weeks reading eigth-grade essays, that's not a very good thing.

Hmm, I think I'm getting sick. I'm off to find some Halls...

I wrote a pitiful amount of my book today -- 600 words or some such low number. I don't know why I've been feeling so sluggish with it lately. I have the story sitting in my head, and the characters are actually trying to burst out on their own accord, so it's not writer's block, really. I don't even know if it's the actual task of writing I'm avoiding. I think (or at least I keep telling myself) that I'm setting up my own mental block with it because I have an editor reading through my first manuscript at the moment, and so if she suggests major story changes, I don't want to be incredibly far into part three. Not that any changes she'd suggest would even necessarily effect the third book, since, while the plot is related and connected, it's actually quite distinct in many ways. Something to do with killing off a central character...

I didn't say that out loud.

In other news, does anyone else notice that whenever the first snowfall of the year comes, everyone forgets how to drive? We didn't even have much snow here; it was much more like frost. Sure, there were flurries as we were driving, but does it really merit going 15 under and managing to hit guard rails on the freeway? The roads were not still slick by then, and the snow was melting before it ever touched the ground...

I ought to go to bed earlier tonight, because this allowing myself to stay up until 1am and getting up at 6am for the past week isn't agreeing with me. My concentration was absolutely terrible at work today, though there were other factors contributing to that towards the end of the day as well. Damn you, Twilight!

Favorite tv moment of the week:

Kelly: Dwight, get out of my nook.
Pam: That's what she said. That's what she said! That's what she said!

I've seen it about five or six times now, and still burst out in uncontrollable giggles every time. The Jim/Pam constantly on the phone thing made for excellent situational comedy this week. I was happy for that, since I've been mainly indifferent about The Office this season.

LOST also has a set premiere date of January 21, which makes me very, very happy. I'm not missing it as much in this off-season as in previous years, but I still have to know where an island suddenly disappears to (after you turn a frozen donkey wheel, no less - jump the shark, anyone?) and where my beloved Sawyer is now.


I'm tempted to change my gargoyle icon now that Halloween is long past, but I'm rather fond of it.

As I watched the rallies and the gatherings on television tonight, the crowds reminding me more of New Year's Eve than an Election Day, something occurred to me.

As many problems as we still have to face, as dire as our world and financial situation seems right now, all those millions of people gathered together tonight, hugging and crying and cheering as it was announced that Barack Obama is the next President of the United States -- they could still unite and celebrate as one. It gives me real hope. We did something historical today. I know that's not saying anything new, but it's still true enough to repeat again.

Yes we can.

I've learned that it doesn't take much for my mood to swing from the upside to the downside. Today was very simple, boring, even, to the outside observer. I did very mundane things like going to work and going to vote (you all went to the polls today, right?).

But it's all in the details.

During my lunch break, I went next door to the grocery store to buy a Coke. On my way in, a guy bringing in carts said hi to me, so I smiled and said hi back. This in itself is amazing, because normally I just look down and mutter a hi that people probably don't even hear. So yay me for being more confident in myself. Then the guy told me that I had a nice smile, and that it made his day. Which in turn made my day.

There was no line when I went to vote. I just missed the after work rush by getting there at 4:30. Now I'm flipping back and forth to the news stations, keeping a sideways glance on the results. It's too early for me to get too excited, but I'm hoping for an Obama win. At least dear Michigan shouldn't disappoint me.

I also won in fantasy football this week, knocking out my previously undefeated uncle and scoring the highest number of points in the league this week. I know I had nothing to do with it, and that it certainly wasn't my masterful team management that allowed me to win, but it still felt good. I expected to lose this league, and was quite fine with filling that position. But being in 5th overall isn't too bad either ;)

Now I have a cup of chai and I've added the perfect amount of honey. It tastes like heaven. After I drink it, I may dance.

A few weeks ago, knowing that I had to write something even if it was not necessarily productive, I started writing this piece I decided to title "Dusk." I wrote a few paragraphs, satisfied with my character's voice, but then led myself into a cliffhanger of sorts, and wasn't sure where to go. Last night in a similar effort, I opened up the Word document again and tried the same "just write something!" method. It led me into the beginnings of a plot, albeit a simple and rather cliche one at the moment, but I'm thrilled. It's enormously exciting to be writing this piece and have absolutely no idea where it's going until I get there. This is different for me, because normally I get blocked if I don't have a clear idea or plan in mind to follow. Though I claim I like letting the story kind of take rein and create itself, I have a harder time doing that with my novels. This is perhaps because I know with them, I intend to have an audience, while with this little story, or novella, or whatever it ends up being, I have no real expectations. It just is, and that's wonderfully freeing and means I'm enjoying creating it.

Let's hope I can retain that attitude.

And for the record, Twix bars may quite possibly be the best candy on Earth.

Tomorrow before I go to work (how great it is to say that again!) I am going to mail my fan letters before I chicken out and decide that I'm making a fool of myself.

I don't know if I will dress up tomorrow (or later today, technically) for Halloween. It's not as if I'm giving out candy or heading to any Halloween parties, so there's really no point except to be fun.

Which is exactly why I should thrown on a costume. I even have one. Imagine that.

You see, I have this plan to reform myself, or rather, be myself when I'm around other people besides me. My brother is on a AAA hockey team this year, which means he and my parents are on the road much more often than they used to be, and I get to cat sit during tournament weekends. What I've learned during these weekends is that I like to sing, and dance around the house: not only for fun, but as a way to get from place to place in the house. I think I need to make an effort to be more like that when my family is home. Perhaps not around strangers or down the street (though every now and then might draw both smiles and weird looks from others) but it's my family. They may give me a weird look, but they'll get over it ;)

Right, which brings me back to the costume. Part of this plan includes just doing things that come to mind, like dressing up for Halloween for no reason, if I feel like it. Right now, it means I'm writing two fan letters -- something I've never done in my entire life -- to an actor and an author. Because why not? Who cares if they think I'm some kind of lunatic (doubtful, as my letters do not contain things like OMG I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES...creepy) or they don't even read the damn thing? I said what I wanted to -- that they've had an impact on my life -- and that's what counts.

I went to see The Secret Life of Bees today with my aunt and my mom, and it's the first movie in a long while that's made me cry. Or maybe it's the first one in awhile that I've let myself cry at. I like that. It's time to stop being afraid to show my emotions, and start to feel.

Yeah, alright. Now I feel sort of sappy.