Tag Archives: Writing

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50,000 Words Rocked Me

I have an extreme dislike of failure. I admit that this often keeps me from doing things, like prevented me from writing this blog or any other venture I wanted to try. This also is what prevents me from sitting down and taking writing my stories to the level I should if I wanted to become a full-time writer.

So when I got an email from the NaNoWriMo about how yearly they do a “National Novel Writing Month”, I became excited about how this was going to get me to sit down and finally do it. The goal of 50,000 seemed difficult, but I wanted the challenge. It was exciting. After tossing the idea around a bit, I decided my first piece would be this crude comedy. My excitement increased when I had started to get into the story, I knew what I wanted and the process made me incredibly happy.

Then I hit a wall. I sat there a thousand words in, and I blanked out. I couldn’t tell what I wanted or where I was going with it. I thought I was going crazy, reciting ideas in my head while my dogs looked at me like I was going insane. I spun around in my chair, played bejeweled on my phone, and stared out my window just mentally exhausted. That was only after a thousand words, I knew I’d never make 50,000. I knew I wasn’t even going to finish a completed project to call “a book” and was ready to stop.

Giving up is hard for me to do, I’m not a quitter. As I explained my predicament to my husband, he reminded me of that. I was too stubborn to just give up. He’s right, that jerk is always right. He ushered me off to my desk and sat me down with my iPod and sent me off into that dark hole that would be where my brain had just vacated. I wrote and wrote and then I stopped. I had my story, it was complete. I was full of pride. My little novella is finished!

My pride quickly vanished when I saw the word count wasn’t even half of the required 50,000 for the challenge. I failed the challenge; I was angry and went back into my towel throwing. I could have fluffed it up and reached the word count of the challenge and been done with it. I wanted to, just so I didn’t have to admit any failure. Then I realized I couldn’t, I had far too much artistic integrity to fluff up my story for any reason. The story was complete, challenge failed or not. I had to suck it up and accept it.

At first, I became depressed by this. I wanted to be awesome and pass the challenge and complete it for no other reason than a feeling of self accomplishment. It didn’t take me long to realize I had gotten what I wanted anyways. I had finally finished something, and I felt proud of it and overwhelming felt that self accomplishment that I wanted. Now, I can sit and do the fun editing and revisions to publish my first novella. This has also given me the push to complete my short story anthology I’ve been banging my head against, while reminding me that giving up is just way too easy for me.

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What I did on Black Friday

I slept. Oh I slept right through the crazy lines and supposed sales. I slept and it felt damn good in my nice heated bed while my husband also snored away. I regret nothing, and I laugh at the idea that other people were awake in the cold while I slept oh so well. Did I mention it felt damn good?

I hate the mall. I think I’d hate the mall much more at 1 a.m. with a bunch of savings crazy nut jobs run around as if they own the world because they were too stupid to spend the time sleeping. No wonder they act as manic as they do, the idea of forgoing one of life’s more precious resources with the idea of saving $10 on a present their kid will love the box more than the gift. It’s worse this time of year, because normally you can time it to avoid masses to get what you need done without an idiot running you down. Oh and the kids! You deserve the look of shame I know I’m not the only one giving you, with allowing your kid to run around unattended. I also laugh when they realize their kid made it halfway across the mall without you even realizing it. Yes, I laugh. You deserve it; teach them to act properly in public.

I don’t feel the need to run out to the mall on Black Friday. Thanks to Steam, Slickdeals.net, and Amazon, I can avoid any rush or need to give up sleep to save money. I especially love slickdeals.net and Steam, with a special love of Steam and their daily sales on video games. Do I want to buy this awesome game for 50%-75% off? I sure do, Valve. Thank you.

Best of all? I don’t have to worry about buying gifts at the mall. The extra bonus is… I get to sleep. I get to sleep a very long time and wake up and post bragging about how I slept right through the sales and will probably end up better off than the people who gave up sleep and time with their family. Bragging doesn’t cover it; I’m gloating while very well rested. And I got Spyro’s Skylanders Start Pack for $39 with free shipping, while the store listed it for $69.99 before taxes. Oh yes, I did win.

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It’s a turkey!

Thanksgiving is around the corner and by that I mean, it’s tomorrow. All the food and family your stomach can handle. I have my cranberry sauce made, the turkey is brined (dry brined, à la Alton) and my cold is still looming telling me I should forget this holiday. However, that’s my general feeling of most holidays but Halloween. My husband is a fan of holidays, for some odd reason he enjoys being at home with me.

I have a problem with holidays, not just because I hate them. I hate what they stand for. They tell you that you have this one day to tell your family you love them and doing good things for your fellow human. Why do you need one day for charity and love? Shouldn’t you be living by those principles on a daily basis, not just for these holidays? It annoys me. Be in the holiday spirit! If you want spirit, I’ll give you some booze.

I know that holidays give a push of charity and acknowledgement of your loved ones, but why not carry that ideal all year round? I find it hypocritical to preach it for a day, only to ignore it the rest of the year. Not saying this idea is what ruins holidays for me, but it’s an important ideal that does a lot of damage for my “holiday spirit”. That and I hate turkey. Why must you taste so awful! The same goes to ham, holidays make you eat the worst of meats.

With all that said, carry on this holiday spirit all year-long. I’m certain that local food kitchens would love at least donations or help every so often, though they would definitely appreciate the support this time of year. Keep this holiday spirit of giving and love every day of the year, and maybe next year I won’t have to write a spiteful blog about holidays. I’d also like to ask that I don’t want Christmas  in my face when I want to celebrate Halloween; you’re 2 months off stores. And to my husband? Yes, I do think decorating a week before Thanksgiving for Christmas is too soon, you’re insane. Love, me.

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Dear Nyquil

I hate colds. I would take a bad flu over a cold any day. First of all when you have a flu, you can basically just vomit and your good to go until you have to again. Secondly, when you have a cold, no matter how crappy you feel you’re still expected to suck it up.
I love my phone because the last thing I really feel like doing right now is leaving my bed. Lucky for me, I can still pretend I’m a capable writer, while I’m cuddled in my bed nicely surrounded by kleenex and empty kleenex boxes.
One of the worst things about a cold is that you’re in trouble with or without medicine. You can’t function without breathing well or that stupid dizzying headache you have that feels like you’ve been punched in the face. Then, you take dayquil thinking it’ll solve your problems. Yeah, it solves your problems like getting drunk at a bar does. Instead of fixing you, you’re laid out in bed until your next dose. You pretty much spend the entire day in what I call the “Nyquil coma”.
So, I hate colds. I also hate cold medicine. If you cold medicine companies are listening, I’d like a cold medicine that doesn’t taste horrendous and allows me to function properly. Thanks cold medicine companies!

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Let’s Get Some Donations Today!

I don’t attend church, big shock. I pay my share to them to send my son to CCD, because every kid needs something to believe in, some morals to learn. I’m not entirely ok with the idea, but it couldn’t hurt him, and he thinks well enough on his own to make his own call on this. I’m opposed to the idea of the organized religion part. As I’m sure you understood when I pretty much mocked organized religion in an earlier post.

As a result of this, every year I get flyers for the “Annual Catholic Appeal”. Pretty much, they want your money to do charity work. I approve of charity work, I think everyone should donate at least some time or money into a cause you believe in or to help others out that need it. Let’s be honest though, people pay a ridiculous amount of money for Catholic schooling for their kid, and teachers don’t make that much money. What happens to that overflow, shouldn’t that go to the charities those yearly donations beg us for? Of course it doesn’t.

When I do attend church and toss money into the collection, I really wonder if that money ever makes it to people in need. When I see a nun pull out a Blackberry, I’m assured that I’m right in wondering what happens to our donations to the church. They preach to us about charity and kindness, but I don’t understand where they actually do this help. I’ve known churches to turn their back on people who couldn’t afford to put money in for donations or to unwed mothers who just want to baptize their child. But hell, let’s donate money for them.

Then, I see on the news that the Catholic Church just bought the Crystal Cathedral for 57.5 million dollars. They need money from us, because they are too poor to help the needy. But they can afford a 57.5 million dollar cathedral? I dislike this idea, and it strengthens my belief that organized religion is a sham to get money from people. It’s good to see they haven’t evolved too far from the times where they would sell off forgiveness for sins if you paid enough for it.

This isn’t a discussion of whether I’m a sad, Godless soul. I’m a ginger; I’m told I don’t have a soul to begin with. It’s a discussion that the church is just like those companies that demand us to bail them out while paying for their CEO’s to go on a yacht tour with our money. The Occupy Wall Street people are blind if their only cause is student loans, though I can’t say I’m even sure what they want except attention or being sprayed in the face with tear gas. The problem isn’t just student loans robbing people; the problem is everyone is robbing us, especially those in the business of “helping” others.

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I Did It All For the Insurance

Yesterday was my one year wedding anniversary. We’re not very interesting people collectively; our celebration involved watching the Patriots game together. I joke with everyone that I only married him for the insurance, saving $500 was a worthy reason, no? That’s not it though, I’m certain he’d be stuck with me forever either way. I needed a logical reason to get married; I don’t buy into romantic ideals. When marriage became a thing of humanity, it was a business transaction. A man buys a daughter from her father, she becomes his property and that is a marriage. With pre-nuptial agreements, that’s further proof that today marriage is still little more than a simple business transaction. Plus, what makes me so special that I can get marriage and a gay couple can’t? Not only do we need a piece of paper to express love, in most places only straight people can get it.

I don’t believe in marriage. For as long as I can remember I didn’t believe in marriage. I need a piece of paper to tell me I’ve dedicated my life to someone? I didn’t understand it; I still don’t if we’re being honest. I find the ritual and yes I mean ritual is tedious. So not only do I need a piece of paper to tell me I’m in love with someone, I need to spend an obscene amount of money to do it in front of hundreds of people? I think I’ll pass. I was never the little girl who dressed her dolls and planned her wedding since the day she was born. I was lucky I planned one when I actually needed to.

Then at some point I realized that this wedding business has nothing to do with me, or my husband for that matter. Our families, well more specifically my mother, needed it. It was a way to show off how wonderful their children grew up to be. I paraded around in a dress to prove a point that love is in the air, and I grew into a beautiful adult. Our big family with a handful of friends got together to celebrate whatever it means to celebrate a wedding, though it probably just means to get dressed up and eat fancy food and getting drunk. Yes, that’s a way we celebrate romance.

I don’t regret it; I gained a wonderful addition to my family. We couldn’t be more perfect for each other. Every day is a fantastic one, and it’s because I have my boys in my life. It doesn’t matter that I still don’t understand why people get married, and that I’m still morally opposed to marriage. I couldn’t have given up my morals to a better person. I love that our wedding wasn’t boring, especially having a fire alarm stall it. I’d also like to thank the Holyoke Fire Department for not complaining for taking my picture in front of your truck, you rock. I married someone who understands I don’t have a romantic view on life and someone who balances me out. Everyone should be that lucky, no matter who you love.

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His Kneecaps Would Be Gone

The whole Penn State controversy made me think. My son will be 10 next year. 10 years old, the same age as the victims of these crimes and I can’t help but to think what would happen if this was my kid. It could’ve easily been him. Hell, it could easily be anyone’s kid. As parents, you can’t help but to worry about things like this. It’s our job to protect them, and it’s the job of whoever we entrust them to as well.

So what if this did happen to my son? I can’t say I’d be very forgiving. In some cases, I have difficulty forgiving anyways and this would probably need no exception. He’d be lucky if he had his kneecaps still, that’s at best. I can’t say I wouldn’t want to physically injure someone who did something so abhorrent to my son. I can’t say that any parent wouldn’t want to. Our instincts tell us that we need to protect and even be vengeful when you couldn’t protect, mostly out of a need to clear your conscience because you thought you should’ve been there.

The statistics of sexually abused children are horrific. 44% of sexual assault victims are under the age of 18, and 15% of those are under the age of 12. Even more distressingly, it’s estimated that 60% of these assaults are left unreported.* Crimes like these aren’t just awful because of who the targets are, but the nature of them. The victims are too embarrassed and ashamed so they never come forward. With the statistic estimating that 5 of 6 offenders won’t even spend a day in jail, who can blame them? Even if they are strong enough to come forward, who’s to say anything will happen?  The idea that someone could assault my child that way could go free, but if I roughed him up for it I could go to jail.  This fact doesn’t upset me; it pisses me off.

Women learn about rape and how to ward off attackers and what to do when you’re assaulted. We read about it in our magazines, all over the internet, and we’re taught it when we’re older. Children don’t have the resources we do. Children don’t have the lessons the adults know. They don’t know that there are people and organizations willing to help them. They know what the adults they have in their life tell them, which isn’t good since statistically 34.2% of their attackers are family members.* Our children learn silence when they need to learn they can speak up for themselves.

For more information, please visit www.rainn.org. They have loads of information to help if you’re in need or ways to education yourself in prevention. *I would also like to thank the RAINN site for providing the statistics used in this post.

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Paranoia and You

I’ve always admitted how extremely eccentric I am. I actually cross from irrational to ridiculous very often. I lock the doors, and then recheck to make sure they’re locked. I take a walk or three around the house, making sure things are ok. I flinch at every nighttime noise I hear, and I make sure my watchdog Zoey is there to ward off anything. That’s as long as they don’t see her. There is nothing less intimidating than a  10 lb. Maltese.

I don’t become fully aware of my paranoia until I’m alone. While my husband was in Liverpool working, I went along with him. When he was out at work and I was left in the hotel by myself, I sat around and eyed the room. I knew exactly where there was something I could use to defend myself if I needed to. I focused on it enough that if I closed my eyes, I would be able to remember where everything I needed  without looking. I realized that I am extraordinarily paranoid and aware.

I’ll admit there’s something embarrassing about admitting this. I don’t care so much though; most people won’t know me well enough to judge and the ones who do won’t be shocked. That’s the beautiful thing about writing though: you can talk about whatever crosses your mind and you don’t have to care.

I also acknowledge that aside from how crazy this makes me look, I know that I have enough awareness of my surroundings to be as safe as possible. I’ll never allow myself to feel entirely safe. I don’t live in an area that’s even remotely dangerous, so the idea that I go through all these measures seems silly. Maybe it’s because of all the crime shows I watch, but I realize that no matter where you live you’re never really entirely safe. I’m not sure if that makes me overly paranoid or just ready. I’ll just say I’m “overly prepared”.

So bring on that zombie apocalypse. I’m ready for you… or a robber. But somehow a zombie apocalypse sounds much cooler.

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Every Saint has a past….

But does every sinner really have a future? Maybe they do. I understand what point is, there’s always a time for a downfall and a time of redemption. I also understand that sometimes redemption isn’t even the right word for what occurs, as usually redemption and downfall have the same qualities of intense crying and guilt. That’s my random thought of the day.

With power and life getting back to normal, I can now do my posts regularly 3 days a week again. Fantastic, just in time for the holidays! We all know I love the holidays. In the upcoming weeks, I’ll be posting progress of my Christmas Village. So be aware of that to either avoid or enjoy it. Your choice, I won’t judge. Aloud anyways.

To the post, today I write about friends. Sometimes I think about the friends I have, the real friends I have. Sure the number has greatly dwindled but I’m sure I still have a few. At least they’re good liars and pretend they still like me. I’ll take it; it’s like a hungry person on a diet: sometimes you just take what you can get. You really want a nice piece of bacon, but you’ll settle for that carrot. Then even that carrot just tastes good.

I just compared friends to bacon and carrots. I’m either really hungry or there’s a reason I only have a few friends. I’m ok with that, because my greatest friends are as awesome as bacon. You can rely on them for greatness; you can miss the great ones when you lose contact with them. Carrots, they’re crunchy and difficult, something you rely on because you know it’s always in the fridge. Maybe I should get some breakfast before finishing writing this.

I understand why I don’t have many friends. I’m abrasively rude in a loving way (added that in to make me feel better), sometimes I’d rather be alone than out, and quite honestly I lack patience with other people. There’s also the “they’re better off anyway” thing, for whatever reason I decide that. The real friends won’t care; the ones who make you think they are the real friends would rather make you feel like dirt than give a crap. Sometimes the latter serves their purpose, the support in between the insults seem more honest than people who spend all day making you feel happy. Most of the time, they’re just good for making you feel like you’re less than you are. That’s never ok, however funny everyone else thinks it is.

I’m becoming ok with this fact. I know I have my Chickies to go to if I really need someone. Though we never talk or get together as much as I’d like, the unsaid understanding is they’ll be right at my side always. We were there throughout high school, and they stood by me when I got married. I know between them and my husband and even my little dogs, I have a support system that makes me luckier than those sad people who think those people laughing in their face care. I know I’ll get laughed at for this post, mocked for whatever reason people will. I also know I don’t care. My dogs are cooler than you, and I know who really matters out there. Maybe the beginning of my post does tie in here. It’s about shedding the negative and focusing on positives, we all fall and our real friends make sure we find our way back up.

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How Christmas Ruined Halloween.

On our way to Great Barrington, I joked with my husband how one side of the road was snow, and the other was fall. He commented back something about Jack Skeleton and we laughed. We went to our favorite getaway, celebrating our anniversary early to avoid the uncertainty of snow in November. We seemingly forgot that we lived in New England. I knew I just got lucky with a 60 degrees wedding day surrounded by beautiful foliage.
The next day snowed. Not a wimpy storm, a storm. In October, I looked outside staring at 2ft of snow. The mountain town wasn’t destroyed, it was nothing to them. I assumed that when I arrived home, if they had 2ft and we only had 8in, it’d be just as inconsequential to us. I was wrong, so very wrong.
We have no internet. (I love my phone.) The good majority of my area has no power. We have no internet, which means no minecraft or WoW or any other amusement I have. (My phone has a minecraft app. Did I mention I love my phone?)
The worst part is how this storm has ruined Halloween, the one holiday I actually like. Trick-or-treating postponed? The horror! You don’t see them ever cancelling Santa. Screw Santa, I want to walk around spooky haunted houses, seeing everyone dressed up and running on a sugar high.
I understand the dangers with the downed powerlines and no power. I would be lying if I said that this doesn’t bother me, especially since we hand made a costume this year for the little one to enjoy. (Minecraft Creeper, can you see what game we enjoy yet?) The excitement of school cancellation gets diminished by the thought of not being able to experience the holiday as intended. Just eating the candy isn’t as fun as the work getting it.
End note: As a result of the storm, this is posted on my phone. Apologies for any errors.