A perfect 10.

One more time around the sun. One more November spent with this hideous ogre hanging over my head.

But now we are officially all done. I am hanging up my fingers or whatever and calling it.

It has been a long decade. Count those years: Year One. Year Two. Year Three. Year Four. Year Five. Year Six. Year Seven. Year Eight. Year Nine. (and then, you know, this year).  And it is time to show myself out.

   

A friend of mine is embarking on writing her dissertation and she is worried about getting it all done in a time crunch. On Friday night, over beers, I shook my head at her stress. 

"You just do it."

"I don't know if I can do it."

"But I know, you will just do it. You have to just sit down and start writing and once you have started, you will just keep going until it is done."

This is a weird thing to be confident about and I could tell that she was all "you don't know me," but the thing is, if I can do this - anyone can do anything. I am the procrastinating procrastinator. I have the attention span of a real spazzy goldfish. I am always hungry.

Yet, despite being me, I can get this done. So to you - who may be doubting your ability to get things done, allow me to assure you, you can absolutely get it done.

About one million years ago, my sweet baby cousin J, was attempting to teach me how to skate backwards. I tried to get her to break it down and explain it for me. After about six minutes of watching me both fail and ask questions, she stomped her little seven year-old foot and said, "you just Do It." and skated off.

So that is my advice to people who ask me, with mouths agape, "how did you do it?"

I simply shrug, "you just do it."

That is all there is to say about it. If you want to do it, you will find a way to make it work. Even if you are putting it off for most of the month, and regretting the plot you have picked, and struggling to make it better mid-story, you will get it done.

I was super embarrassed when people asked me what this year's novel was about because it was not only hard to explain, it was pretty stupid. But I knew that Year 10 was not the year to quit. So I just did it.

Now, in the words of everyone's favorite president, Josiah Bartlett, 

"What's next?"

There will be no more writing of words unless true genius strikes. Instead, there Shall Be Editing. 

There are 500,000 words, over three different laptops (which might mean some of those words might be lost to humanity). Through all of those words, there is a voice, there are ideas, there are small moments of inspiration in dialogue, in "showing not telling," in the giving of nicknames. So now it is time to put those all in the sausage maker and try to find something delicious.

The first goal is to uncover all those words, find as many of them as I can, and print them all out and read them, with a yellow highlighter and an open mind. Next year, by this time, there will be something. I am not sure what it will be - maybe I will have just finally found all of the words - and managed to sneak-print all 500-or-so pages at the office. 

This was the easy part. The hard part is next.

As always - this dumb shit does not happen just because I open a fresh new word document. Thank you to:

The new La Colombe Coffee Shop on Foster. I wrote 12,000 words yesterday and I could not have gotten that done without the fresh hipster vibe, and delicious cappuccino provided in my new favorite Andersonville spot. 

The West Wing. How did Willy Shakes write all those plays without the sweet dulcet sounds of Allison Janney reciting Aaron Sorkin's words in his ear? In the Shadow of Two Gunmen (parts one and two) are some of the most inspiring moments of anything. 

Sweet coworkers and friends. All these people are so patient with this particular brand of psychosis and who provide endless hours of excellent distraction and boozy time and face time and boozy face time.

Yates. For forever and always. NaNoWriMoYates. I miss you.

Boyfriend. Who just shakes his head and says, "write your novel." Thanks (in advance) for buying my ticket to see Mockingjay Part One tonight.

Miso, the newest member of the dream team. She is so damned good at keeping legs warm. Our apartment is normally about 20 degrees below freezing, but she manages to keep the blood in my legs circulating.

Hazel. She was conspicuously absent for most of this journey, but as I rounded the bend at 48,000 words, she snuggled up and was there for the victory lap.

On to presents! Happy December everyone!

And one more...

This weekend had so many fun amazing things happen.  The very most fun and amazing is the introduction of the newest member of the Grandipants Team.

Miso came to us all the way from Tree House Humane Society (which is conveniently located around the corner) where she was named Pockets. We have been talking about getting a kitten since Boyfriend bought the apartment, and finally we had a whole Saturday to spend picking out our favorite and helping her get adjusted.

She is hanging out in our guest room and when she is not hiding under the dresser, she can be found hiding in the carrier or under the bed. She is doing better about coming out and visiting us when we go into say Hi and she is a big fan of lap sitting, just like her big sister.

Big sister, Hazel, knows something is up because she is being extra adorable and snuggly since we brought Miso home. She spends a lot of time looking intently at the guest room door and trying to stick her paw under it. With any luck she will realize that Miso is her mini-me and they will be best friends.

This has been a fun experiment if for nothing else, it is giving us a small sneak peek into how we are going to do with parenting - cutthroat competition for who can be loved the most by the baby.  We are both trying to be very cool about it, but we are absolutely counting how many minutes the kitten spends in a lap before moving to the next one. I have taken most of the snuggling duties while Boyfriend is in charge of cat-toy usage.

The people at Tree House are the best. Their cats are the best and you can even watch the kittens on the internet - Kitten Cam, it is like Panda Cam, except you can totally take one home with you. They will try to convince you that you take maybe two or three, but stay strong - the cats may not outnumber the people, no matter what Sydney the cat lady tells you.

We are super excited for Hazel to have another non-human companion to keep her company, we just hope she is as excited as we are. Miso has been practicing being adorable to win her over.

Hazel eats



For Christmas, Santa Claus got Hazel the type of present my grandmother is

 notorious for getting people- the type that you didn't ask for, that you didn't need, and that is making your life way worse than than no present at all.

Her vet, Dr. Danny (seriously) who is all of ten years old told us last year that our baby girl is chubby and if she ever wants to make the cheerleading squad she's gonna have to drop some of that 6 year-old pudge that cats get when they are not required to actually hunt for her food. 

He said she needed a feeding mechanism that was mentally stimulating because that's totally not psychologically messed up at all for a girl who is overrating because she is sad and lonely. 

So we got her this half-moon thing that she hated but eventually it became no longer a challenge for her. Eventually kids learn how to climb up to the top shelf and you have to start all over again. 

So for Christmas, Santa went to Fab.com and got her this thing that basically looks like it should have come with some teenage mutant ninja turtle action figures.

She is still not speaking to me. What kind of terrible cat mother am I? As if wrapping it in Santa paper made if less of a dick move on my part. 

She has started to get the hang of how to eat out of it. What I did not take into consideration was that for the most part her method is to stick her paw in the little bin and then pull it out so as to fling as much cat food all over the floor as possible and then just eat it right from the filthy wood.

Not only is she pissed at me, and covering my floor in passive aggressive crunchies, she now has the table manners of a goddamned raccoon. 

When that method of eating doesn't work she just waits until three in the morning and stands on my side of the bed yowling her displeasure like a hippie on a hunger strike. 

I am not sure why I feel the need to torture this animal in such an elaborate and overpriced way. I really felt like it was in her best interest, which is fairly indicative of where I am in "starting a family," department. 

Seriously, what self respecting animal drinks like this?

Thoughts from Hazel

Mom. It's Sunday. It's beautiful outside. You have not snuggled me all weekend. And there is chocolate cake in the fridge. Chocolate cake. 

I will sit on all your notes and give you salty looks if that is what it takes for you to get off your laptop. I'm a jerk who wants the best for you. 

Caged Animal

She's 0 - 234 of catching the things that taunt her from the other side of the window, but good gracious if she doesn't try for ever single one. 

Her blind determination and optimism is almost enough to make up for the fact that Operation Jungle Cat almost always takes place between 4:30 - 5:15 every morning. 

Storycat

JBH is an awesome human being in approximately one zillion ways, but one of my favorite parts is that she can always tell (completely true) stories that make me laugh, out loud, when I having a grouchy time of it.

You should get your own JBH, they can be trapped with lobster nachos and Indiana Basketball.

belly for two

 

Okay, this is my second cat picture in a row which is bordering on crazy-lady town, BUT this belly greeted me this morning as I was running late for work and how could I not stop to take its picture?

Boyfriend is out of town on & off for the next 3 months so its just me and the cat for a while. We have never spent this much time just the two of us (before Boyfriend there was a house full of ladies always around to provide crunchies and pets), it'll be a fun little experiment full of take out food, midday naps, Colin Firth movies and learning to survive without the best snuggler in the house.

That belly deserves a scratch when I get home.

feel it in my bones

I am super, super lazy right now.  It comes with being overwhelmed at work, and the beginning stages of hibernation (why is my bed so warm/the world so cold).  I have two or three blogs that I should edit and post (but haven't), a Novel to write, and lots, and lots of actual work to do.

I need some inspiration... but more importantly, I need facebook to disappear.

In other news, my cat sits way too close to the television.

Cat's meow

I need some serious, serious help.

The love of my early 20's, Hazel Buena has reacquired a habit that needs to get gone.

She has always incredibly vocal in her emotions.  Whether it be love or hate, she really needs to share it with you in that incredibly insistent and yet, totally unintelligible way that cats have.

I'm not going to say she picked up this habit from her adoptive mother, Luna, but they were a pair of noisy felines. Once Luna left for Texas, Hazel continued the ruckus in honor of her bestie moving out.

When Hazel and I moved out of the Brothel of Chaste-ness she traded in the meowing for peeing on everything, which was, despite my boneheaded claims a few months prior, actually way worse than the never ending chatter.

She gave up the peeing, and the crying to a certain degree eventually and in apartment v. 2.1 she was almost quiet, though she did really get a kick out of scratching at the bedroom door at 5:40 on a Sunday morning.

But since the move to the land of Hipster- she has become a vision of her younger, far too vocal self.  It happens sometimes in the morning, but mostly at night in those clutch few hours when humans are wanting absolutely nothing more than to be asleep.

Taking 20 or so minutes to wear her out and eff with her brain with the laser pointer helps occasionally (I am writing this post with one hand, the other is controlling the most elusive and unpredictable prey that a feline has ever come in contact with) but with about as much regularity as standing in front of her and saying, "Shut up, Hazel," in a stern voice.

I need something, short of cutting out her vocal cords with tweezers and a butter knife, that will make all the meowing go away.  The bacon-eating animal lover inside me thinks that water bottle spraying is very cruel, although I've been changing my tune these past few months.

It doesn't really work though because you spray her (and since its night and you want to keep yourself as semi-comatose as possible, you don't turn on any lights and so miss the cat entirely about 65% of the time) and then she just tilts her head with a look of consternation and then meows, "why would you spray me?  That's not very nice," (or something to that affect).  Then shakes off the damp and meows some more.

So, besides the spray bottle and Grey's Anatomy, Animal Planet style --any suggestions??

The best-worst part about working at home

She is quite distracting and demanding of affection...and beyond that, she makes it kind of difficult to type. Particularly when she is pulling these kinds of shennanigans


No, no its cool - I don't need that third of the keyboard anyway.

moving shmupdate

-Clothing is now out of trash bags that were stored in the bathtub and into the closet. I consider this a success. I own a lot of clothes, but not enough to fill up this closet. I consider this a challenge. Also I need hangers for all my skirts.

-Kitchen is organized. Told boyfriend that Cuisinart takes counter-space-presidence over quesidilla maker. He is not happy.

-Missing particle board is found. I should have bookshelves by the end of the day.

-Living room is a disaster and we still have no idea how we are going to organize it.

-Kitten is adjusting well, or at least better than last time when she peed all over everything I've ever owned.

-Am attempting social life for a few hours. Have no moisterizer or make up. This should be awesome.

Fiiiiiive golden rings

Sha-ZAM.


People, I have written this blog One Two Four and now FIVE times.

I have very little to be personally proud of in my life, everything I accomplish seems end up being a group effort with other people, but once a year I have the opportunity to tell myself, "Look, look what you can do! Its kind of useless, but you do it! Some people write dissertations or movie scripts, but you! you write unreadable novels. Wa-hoo! You go girl" And that is kind of awesome.

I say this every year and every year I totally mean it, this is getting harder and harder. I do not know quite what that says about my life but it is still totally true. If you look at this bar graph you will see how this almost did not happen.



So you can see that seriously it was not until today that I was anywhere near my goal. Mostly because this year I (finally?!) have a job where I have to do work the WHOLE time I am working. At none of the jobs I have had in the past five years have I been required to actually give my 110%, this is kind of sad but also kind of awesome, until this month when I had to spend five days a week writing for a job and then had to go home and find the inspiration to write. It was a challenge (as you can see...).

This is why I will never haterate on any of my friends who have real jobs and try to do this. It is hard as shit and I'm only doing it because I am super, super stubborn.

I also realize that these become less like novels and more me just getting my writing demons out as much as I can in 30 days. This year's novel took place in about 24 hours. Less even. It takes place from 7:15 AM to 1 AM. I'm like friggin Jack Bauer over here. And really nothing happens? Well, okay the protagonist gets to Vermont, and goes to a Friendly's. She also goes to a bar and hollers at a governor, but really there is just a lot of sitting around and talking and introspection. A whole lotta introspection. Turns out a good mental diversion can eat up 2,000 or 3,000 words.

Even though over all the writing is fairly terrible there are some sentences that have a glimmer of potential and for a month of work, that's enough for me.

And of COURSE - my thanks go out to:

The boyfriend (and his family) for letting me spend most of the Thanksgiving weekend writing instead of being social and/or putting up Christmas lights. Also for the food. And I got wine AND a cookie tonight for celebration!

MB - for letting me bail on so much stuff these past few weeks and being perfectly cheerful when I tell her that I am not coming into work so I can write my novel, or I'm going to leave at noon so I can write my novel and for also for trying to win me street cred with the kids by telling them that I was writing the novel.

Pandora - Oh man, can I tell you, I have the girlest, most embarrassing personal Pandora station. It is all Glee, broadway musicals, Adele and Taylor Swift. No joke. So humiliating and yet apparently good for writing.

Dollop - I only went there once, but it is an awesome, and funky and inspiring and I can't wait to go there for real work.

Hazel - There is not a better writing kitten in the whole world, for reals people. She is so snuggly and warm and just wants you to succeed. Also she fights with tinsel and it is hilarious.

Courtney - for being there, forever and always. See you in a few weeks, C-bomb. I'll be the one with the Bears Santa hat on holding a sign saying "SOLID GOULD."

My goal is to actually post a real blog between now and next November. Also, to finish writing all the things that were due before November.

Quack Quack

So, I've been in quite the rut thus far in 2009. A whole bunch of things have gone not-right and I've spent more of this year crying than probably the past three years combined (so Lame.) I was told today how disappointed the public is that I haven't updated my blog in forever. And for that I am sorry. But the thing I hate the most is the emo-kid blog of sadness and complaining about upper-middle-class life, so I haven't done it in awhile.

It feels like I have this hole inside of me, it hurts pretty much all day. Sometimes I forget about it, but most of the time its there, hurting.

I was thinking about that when I finally got out of my pj's and showered today (the ripe hour of 2 PM) and I realized that I'm pretty self absorbed and that most people in the world have it way way worse than I do.

So here it is. The things that I am so very very lucky to have. I hope that once I write this list I'll remember to look at it every day and that it will help fill the hole.

My Lucky List.

My immediate family. I know beyond all shadows of doubt that these people will go to the mat, to the death, cage match style for me with out even being asked. I have never doubted any of their love for me and as we all grow up I am so lucky to have two siblings that I love hanging out with, and two parents who love me and no matter what I do will always be there to help in anyway they can.

My extended family. While sometimes they get real drunk and loud, and doubt my decisions (particularly where college and professional sports are concerned), they have always and will always provide a place to sleep and a meal to eat. They're a pile of crazy but they seem to appreciate the decisions I make and look at awe upon the life I've built for myself.

My boyfriend. Who is so excited about the future that it makes me want to throw up. Who believes that the glass will always be half full. Who doesn't mind that I never ever shave my legs and always take the biggest half of the cookie.

My friends. I have a full NFL team roster of people who like to hang out with me. Who know my flaws and still are willing to be seen in public with me. And some of them are down the block and some of them are hours and hours away but they're all a phone call, or an IM or a facebook message away. And they want to talk, and they're happy to listen. And they've got my back in a bar fight. There is something to be said for the fact that when I plan to go out, the list of people I call takes up both hands and when I go home I never get to see all the people I want to see because there isn't enough time. And I could go to Seattle, or New Orleans, or New York City and have a place to sleep and people who would love to see me.


My health. With the exception of my penchant for enormous December bruises on my legs and my tendency to stub my toe and run into walls. My health bills are minimal. I don't get really sick hardly ever. And I sometimes get free birth control from my doctor's office.


My roommates. Sure, they're messy and sometimes loud but they pay bills on time, they don't bring complete strangers into the apartment. They aren't blowing coke off the sink. They let me drink their milk and they only complain about my cat sometimes and they feed her just as often. They listen to my problems. They help my boyfriend find an apartment. They unplug my straightener when I leave it on.

My cat. She's really cute and snuggly and she let me cut her nails last night with minimal complaining.


My job. Sure, it sucks right now. But I nap all the time and its enough money to pay my bills and now I even get to use some of the skills I went to college for. Also, the naps. And the fact that I don't hate the people I work with. That's always nice.


My computer, ipod, jeans, winter coat, couch, bed, and other stuff I need new winter boots and shin guards but beyond that I have a lot of really nice things. Including a Jesus Doll. And new Slippers. And a nice laundry basket. And maybe its time to buy new boots and shin guards and then stop buying things. A lot of my friends have a ton of things, which makes me jealous but I have some things that they don't. Like a talking Jesus Doll.

The hole feels better now. Its not gone, but it'll be okay.

NaNoWri-pfffffft

So, its my yearly finger marathon. I'm less excited this year than I've ever been. Probably because of my knowledge of my totally insane schedule. I don't really have time for grocery shopping or laundry so I'm not quite sure where I'm going to find time to write 50,000 words that I don't know yet.

I need to find a job. Desperately. Finding a job in the best of circumstances sucks, but at this moment in this economy it sucks even more. But the fact remains that I need one. And at this moment, I'm not willing to settle for something I don't really, really like. We'll see how long it takes for that to change (probably about two weeks...or until I have to pay rent while unemployed).

I'm not good with fear. Right now I'm totally scared of what's about to happen, and the one person who is here to listen, I don't really want to collapse in front of. The collapse is eminent. I just so want it to be when I'm alone, not trying to be adorable and fun.

So I started my NaNo, four days late, today. This is my fourth year, so this feels like Senioritis. I know it'll get done eventually (except, that I totally don't). The nicest part about starting was that out of nowhere my normally mean, distant, antisocial cat decided that she was here for moral support and put her head on my laptop to give me the strength the start (That's her picture with my photobooth, it didn't really work but she is super gorgeous).

Anyway, expect more updates to the blog, now that I have procrastinating to do. Also, the secret that I've been keeping for the past few months is now kind of out in the open. So I can talk about it. Sort of. Vaguely. Using pronouns and metaphors.

Watch this space. Its about to get wordy.

Also, its 5:30 on the East Coast, if you haven't voted yet you are done complaining for the next 4 years.

I'm still here

So, this has been quite the hiatus I've taken from blogging. Although, not really -- I do actually blog on a biweekly basis for the lil hometown paper I was talking about. If I had a static link for it, I would post it, but since I don't, I'll try to remember to copy-paste the entries here -- because they are Hi-Larious. Actually no, but they tend to be entertaining.

Right now I'm enthralled with the second season of Nip/Tuck. My newest television addiction since the WGA strike (its helpful that my roommate owns all seasons on DVD). I'm mildly shocked that they're allowed to show this much graphic sex and surgery on basic cable. And since when can we say "shit" on tv? I never got that memo.

Other then that-- '08 has been good to me this week. I dropped a hundred and fifty bones on clothes in the past two days. I didn't go out drinking at all this weekend, which was actually kind of nice (particularly now that I don't have any money after all the clothes buying).

I start an eight week run of shows at iO tonight. While I am very excited about this opportunity, I am also straight terrified. The forms that my team has concocted are interesting and kinda awesome, but at the same time they aren't quite ready for performance. I'm hoping that we'll figure out a way to cheat for now until we get a chance to figure everything out.

One of the cats in my house peed on my amazing Pier 1 chair. I'm super distraught about it although my Mom is confident that the smell will come out with some Nature's Miracle treatments. Also one of the windows in my living room is broken... our apartment is pretty much falling apart.

I'm considering putting on clothes and starting the day, but I think instead I'll finish this season of Nip/Tuck, read more of Franny and Zooey and wait for the message I'm waiting for.