panic bubbles

I just realized that today is the last day of October (I know, I'm slow), and NaNoWriMo starts tonight at midnight. Have you ever said NaNoWriMo? It's quite enjoyable. I highly recommend it.

Anyway. The panic is starting. I know this will surprise EVERYONE, but the procrastination I so successfully employ whenever I have some kind of project has been here in full force since I decided to try NaNoWriMo again.

The problem is, I have a lot of ideas, but I have trouble picking one to focus on. Also, I always seem to have more small details for the story than actual plot. Last time, I just kind of picked an idea out of the air with no clue or plan for where the story would go and it sort of . . . fizzled. I wanted a plan this time. Not too much of a plan, but an outline of at least a few of the characters and plot points.

I guess I still have a couple hours to come up with one, but who am I kidding? I probably won't even attempt an outline until around 11 tonight. Or I'll just wing it again and start writing at 12:01 in caffeine infused mania. Sure, I could be smart about it and start planning when I get home from work, but why mess with the process?

boom!

Today I am wearing Bazooka Joe socks.

It's a great day.

smile like you mean it

I'm tired. I'm tired of my job, I'm tired of where I live, I'm tired of doing the same thing day after day after day.

I won't go into details, but work today just really got to me, and I can't think why. Nothing happened today that hasn't been happening since I've been there. The thought of going in tomorrow exhausts me. Is that normal? No one really wants to go to work, right, so is it a big deal that some mornings I'd rather jab myself in the eye with a butter knife than drag myself out of bed into an office that is mind-numbingly slow one moment and then moving at breakneck-can't-sit-down-or-even-eat-lunch speed the next?

I don't know. Maybe it's just the weather. It's so easy to blame everything on the weather when it's cold and gloomy and supposed to snow (snow!) or sleet or something else unpleasant. I hope my mood clears up soon, though, because the act of smiling and making nice with people is starting to make me twitch.

blister in the sun

Dear local FOX affiliate,

Thank you for showing Grosse Pointe Blank instead of the crap you usually play on Saturdays.

I'm looking forward to spending the afternoon with John Cusack.

Sincerely,

Jennie

PS: I just like ending with a PS.

meh

is how I feel today

small battles

Sometimes I tempt myself just to make sure I have the willpower to turn something down. Little things, though. It's not like I sit at the table in front of a big bowl of cocaine with my nose two millimeters from the powder.

My co-workers like to bring in little treats. Donuts, bagels, coffee cake, birthday cake. Instead of indulging in these treats, I will walk by them again and again, letting the sweet decadent scent in, letting my mouth water, and then walking away empty handed. Of course, it doesn't hurt that eating donuts always makes me sick to my stomach. If there are negative consequences, it doesn't really make for a very sweet victory. But when my boss brought in some banana bread yesterday, I fought really, really hard not to grab the entire loaf, run out the door and start a new life with my long-time lover . . . Carbs.

I don't know why I don't just give in. It would certainly be easier to stick my face into the cake, put donuts around my fingers like rings, and walk around with a giant french baguette, alternately taking huge bites and hitting people with it.

This morning, before I left for work, I stood in my bedroom doorway for a good three minutes staring at my sloppily made bed; the bed that was practically BEGGING me to kick off my shoes and climb back under the covers. And at that moment, negative consequences be damned, I really, really wanted to finally give in.

I've made a huge mistake

Someone needs to take away my Arrested Development DVDs. Seriously. I can't stop watching them. I might be able to, say, if Fox would stop showing goddamn baseball games and start showing new episodes.

As it is, I'm really getting to the point where I wish I had a brother so I could call him and say, "heeeeeey, brother." Or if I could have a Franklin doll, I think I'd be happy, too.

always look on the bright side of life

Instead of getting upset about stuff, I've decided to focus more on little pleasures.

For instance, if I hadn't had to leave work late tonight, I would have missed Weezer singing, "Say it Ain't So," on the radio. Those of you underestimating the greatness of this obviously have no idea what effect the pleasing qualities of Rivers Cuomo's voice can have on my mood.

and one time I had birthday cake for dinner

Yesterday I went to lunch with my friend and aura twin, Amy, and her boyfriend, Mike. Although I found my way fairly easily to Huber Heights, I did manage to get myself lost on the way to lunch. This is not surprising. It would have been more surprising if I had not gotten lost while driving to a new place. That's why I always leave early.

I'm not going to comment (other than this, of course) on the fact that I was YET AGAIN the single one out to dinner/lunch with a friend and her boyfriend, because, while at one time that would drive me into a "why don't I have a boyfriend" semi-funk, it really doesn't bother me anymore to be the one getting a single check at the end of the meal. Most of the time I just think I'd have a hard time fitting a boyfriend into my schedule.

Anyway, after lunch we went to Mike's friend's house, where there was beer and cornhole (the game). All of Mike's friends are either married, on their way to being married, pregnant, or with child. Heh. I just like writing "with child." Of course, they were all about five years older than I am, but still. Being around married people and parental types just reminds me how not ready I am for all of that stuff. I'll bet Mike's friends didn't have pretzels and coffee for breakfast yesterday, but guess who did. And I know I'm not ready for a child because when I think of giving up alcohol and coffee for 9 months (or more) I want to cry.

The house was nice, though. There was no clutter. No piles of books sitting everywhere or cat toys littering the floor like at my house. Granted, they may have just shoved all of that stuff in a closet like I do when I have people over, but I like to think that's something I'll outgrow.

ay, mi estomago

Why, why, WHY did I drink half a pot of coffee in an hour without eating anything? Why am I stupid? Now my stomach hurts and I'm kind of light-headed and I'm supposed to drive to Huber Heights to meet a friend for lunch and I'm NOT EVEN DRESSED and my contacts? They're not in. My hands are kind of shaky from all the caffeine and I'm afraid I'll jab myself in the eye and OW.

Also, I make no sense, but maybe I would if I had been able to sleep without every little noise causing me to jolt awake in bed, pull my covers up to my chin and rapidly think, "whatwasthatwhatwasthatwhatwasthat??!?!?!" EXCLAMATION POINT.

and also my shirt is on backwards

I'm going to preface this by advising my mother and father and any other relatives who worry about me living all alone (except for a cat, who obviously provides no protection unless you try to pick her up and then she'll SCRATCH YOUR EYES RIGHT OUT) not to read the following entry, especially if they'd like to ever sleep soundly again without wondering if I've been murdered in my bed or kidnapped by cult members.

I'm fairly certain that someone tried to get into my apartment last night. Or this morning. Whatever. Sometime around 4 AM, I woke up because I heard the blinds by the sliding patio door moving. They're those vertical ones that are super loud whenever they move. I didn't think much of it, because sometimes Phoebe moves them to look out the window or chase a bug (like a KILLER CRICKET, now THOSE are scary). Then I heard a huge crash and I thought I heard what sounded like someone trying to open the patio door but the lock was catching it. It's a very distinctive sound so that got me pretty freaked out but then I heard someone talking outside my bedroom window (which was open, I know shut up I'm retarded). At that point I sat straight up in my bed, heart pounding, kind of feeling like I might vomit, and ran to my bedroom door and locked it. I went back over the (still open) window and tried to listen but I couldn't tell if anyone was out there. Then I started doubting myself. You're being stupid, Jennie, it was probably just Phoebe knocking the fan over, no one is out there.

Finally, ignoring all the instincts gleaned from watching too many horror movies, I turned on my bedroom light, unlocked the door and walked into the living room BY MYSELF. Sure enough, the floor fan had been knocked over, which is probably what made the crash. I checked the patio door and it was still locked and there was no scary, hooded figure standing menacingly in the corner with a machete OR a chainsaw. I cursed myself for getting so freaked out over nothing, and then I looked closer at the door. It was still locked, sure, but the screen on the outside had been opened a few inches. Just enough for, say, someone to test and see if the glass door was unlocked. Commence Freak Out, part two: The Urge to Vomit Strikes Back. Actually, it wasn't so much a freak out as a slow walk back to my room, grabbing my cell phone and keys on the way, locking the bedroom door, and climbing into bed into the safety of my covers. I didn't sleep much after that. I really tried, but every time I heard a noise my eyes would pop open and my heart would start pounding and my brain would start screaming, 'KILL KILL KILL.'

When I got out of bed a couple of hours later, I again checked the screen door, hoping it had just been a nightmare. Nope, still open. I've been thinking about it (and thinking and thinking and thinking) and I'm guessing it was either some kids who wanted to mess around in an empty (or any unlocked) apartment or it was a crazed killer who wanted to cut out my eyes and entrails or it was a very polite zombie who didn't want to break my window OR it was just some run of the mill criminal who wanted to steal my TV and ALSO I should stop watching so movies.

Honestly, I'm more upset that my shirt has been on backwards for two hours and I just now noticed. Thank you, sleep deprivation. If I'd known someone was going to try to FREAK ME THE HELL OUT at 4 AM this morning, I would have gone to bed earlier.

the one where she talks obsessively about TV . . . some more

Is anyone else getting sick of the flashbacks on Lost? It got to the point last night that the first time they flashedback (?) I actually groaned out loud and threw a pillow, until I saw that it was a Locke flashback. If I have to watch the actors go back in time and have bad hair, I'd prefer to watch Terry O'Quinn because, hello? He's awesome. ALSO, Katey Sagal? Excellent.

Was I the only one who didn't want them to push the button at the end? I don't think I would have, just because I wanted to see what would happen if they didn't push it. I mean, what . . . would killer polar bears have been released from underground trap doors, like those tigers that almost ate Russell Crowe in Gladiator?

Now. On to Alias. Alias is now dead to me. As dead as the bullet-riddled Michael Vaughn! I hope Sydney's stupid baby turns out to be a Russian spy IN THE WOMB. Have the writers of that show learned NOTHING from what happened to The X-Files? You don't get rid of one of your leads, even if you say they will come back for guest spots. And if you do get rid of one of your leads, you do not add new characters who will most likely suck all over the place. Remember that time Mulder died? Not the first time when they blew him up in a boxcar full of aliens. Or the next time when Scully told everyone he shot himself in the face. Or the other time when it kind of looked like he died because they took out a piece of his brain. Or all those other times it looked like he might die. NO. I'm talking about the time he died and they buried him and then like 4 months later they dug him up and put him in a hospital bed and then poof he was alive. How stupid is that? I mean, there's only so much you can ask your audience to just accept without them finally throwing their remotes through the TV and writing you numerous death threats.

End rant.

november is starting early this year

I don't know if any of you remember, but last November sucked giant donkey balls. I mean, sure, things could have been worse, a lot worse, but at the time everything pretty much blew.

I'm tempted to say that November has started already, because yesterday blew all kinds of balls, not just donkey, but if I step back and really examine the situation it's not THAT bad.

My car, as of right now, is at the mechanic's. After work yesterday, I ran into my apartment to grab some library books that are spectacularly overdue, but when I got back in my car and tried to start it . . . nothing. No problem. It's done that before. Last time, I let it sit and rest for a while and when I tried to start it again it finally did. This time? Not so lucky. I tried every 30 minutes, until my dad got there with the jumper cables, which also accomplished nothing, other than to let us know that we should go call a tow truck. Which we did. And then the tow truck driver tried and still nothing. We took my car to the mechanic's, where I'm already in for about a hundred dollars just for them to figure out what the problem is. Yay! I'm just crossing my fingers that it's nothing too serious.

For the good, though. My lovely parents were willing to lend me one of their cars so I could go to work today. My lovely father stood outside with me to wait for the tow truck and ALSO talked to the people at the mechanic's front counter, because what I don't know about cars could fill several large books and also a stone tablet. For other volumes of Things Jennie Knows Little to Nothing About, please see "Boys," "Time Management," and "Cooking." Last night, when I finally got home, I was so happy that I'd remembered to tape Arrested Development and Kitchen Confidential, because lawyer Bob Loblaw? I'm sorry, that's the best thing I've seen on TV, like, EVER.

Also, and this is totally off-topic, I've decided that if I have the opportunity to dress up for Halloween this year I'm going to be Punky Brewster, because . . . um, she's awesome? Yeah. And last night my mom and I were trying to remember the name of the dog, and I kept thinking it was Comet, but I just remembered that that was the dog on Full House and Google just told me that Punky Brewster's dog's name was Brandon (wtf?) and I JUST REALIZED that I probably watched/watch too much TV. The end.

Thank god that mystery is solved. And for my last piece of news, and I don't know if it's good or bad yet but I'll let you know at the end of November, is that I'm going to try NaNoWriMo again next month. Last year I completed, I think, about a fourth of a novel? I don't know, but this year I'm determined to finish a whole one.

So suck on that, November.

you know where this is going

Ticket to Oktoberfest: 5 dollars

One giant French beer: 10 dollars

Patch of grass to watch band: free

Watching children and drunk people try to Irish dance (at a German festival . . . oooookay) in front of a large crowd: Priceless