Monthly Archives: May 2010

I hate autosave.

Especially when it fails me.

You know, it’s not entirely my fault that I fall asleep while trying to type on my laptop. I can’t help it that the night air is so soothingly cool and wispy. Or that the crickets and cicadas have developed this wonderful, harmonious melody that they won’t stop chirping. Or that there is no traffic nearby to startle me. Or that there are no streetlights nearby to buzz incessantly.

OR – more importantly – that there are dog sized raccoons historically proven to eat cars who just might decide that my ample, sleeping form looks pretty darn tasty. A fact which – after I realize it and where I’m at (and after briefly waking from my atmospherically perfect slumber) I quickly slam shut my laptop and head inside, forgetting to save my current night’s worth of typing. Furthermore, since my computer is merely ‘sleeping’ and not ‘off’, I don’t plug it back in because I’m going to bed, and so it stays on in some capacity until the battery dies, leaving my unsaved, UNautosaved work to fade into the night as I do into my dreams.

In the words of my twelve year, Brennan: Curses!

So tonight, for the umpteenth time, I think I’ve decided I’m done working on my novel. That, or it’s ending in a tragic donut fire asap.

Bah humbag. (here’s to tomorrow)

~h

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Canterbury, shmanterbury

I love the classics as much as anyone. I have a great appreciation for the craft and the feel of the old standbys. But for the life of me I can barely keep my eyes open through Chaucer.

Maybe it’s just the day. It’s one of those lazy, hazy – “crazy days of sum-mer!”. Seriously though, it’s a hazy day, might storm again/might not, and I can’t seem to take my eyes off the “Pawn Stars” marathon on A&E. I definitely can’t focus my mind enough to try to unravel Chaucer’s Tales. I can read and understand them, of course. But I’m working on a thing here where I’d like to take them out of poetry and transform them into prose.

Epic fail. Today, anyway. I haven’t given up yet. After all, tomorrow’s another day, and who knows what the rest of today has in store. Maybe something mind-blowing. I’ll keep you posted.

~h

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Yes, Smee?

“I think I’ve had an apostrophe.”
“I think you mean ‘epiphany’.”
“Lightning has just struck my brain.”
“Oh, that must hurt.”
~Capt. Hook and Mr. Smee (“Hook”)

So as I was driving to my sister’s house yesterday and talking to my friend about writing and blogging I had a great idea. Really great. ‘I hope someone doesn’t steal it’ great. I have a new idea for a book, and this one is gonna be a doozy. I can’t help it – I’m excited!

Well, was excited. As I started to dig into some of my source material, my excitemenet cooled and that big helium balloon of happy started to sink a bit. What I need/have to work with is daunting and antiquated and little overdone (in my opinion). But then –
everything got all bright and sunny and that little rubber beacon of hope started to fly high once again. And then more ideas started to erupt from my pores – early, very early ideas – seeping through the cracks of my subconscious. They are written down now, not to be forgotten. I will address them all at some point. But right now I’ve got to start with the first. But I can’t tell you what it is yet, this brilliant idea of mine. I’m sorry, I love you all dearly, but I – juss cahn’t doit, Cap-ten. I doon’t hahve th’ powerrr. Okay, so of course I have the power – I’ve got the power! By the power of Grayskull – I have the POWWW-WERRRR! (btw, I think Hollywood would be remiss – and just plain idiots not to use Channing Tatum as Heman) (Channing Tatum is so hottt…mmm… ahem. where was i? oh yeah…) But I’m choosing to use it for good rather than evil. (Thundercats! HO-OOOOOOOH!) (sorry, apparently i just channelled some long-lost saturday morning from my youth)

So not only am I dealing with a new idea that’s burning a hole in my fingertips, but I’ve still got my current wip to get finished.

“Egads, woman! What are you thinking?”

Pretty much that I like to torture myself. A lot. Never fear, though. I promise to drag you all along with me.

~h

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Gary Coleman is dead.

Did you know that? Do you care?

After two days of lying comatose following a severe brain hemorrhage, they pulled the plug on GC. What is happening to all of our child stars? Sure, there are plenty of whippersnappers out there who’ve played the phoenix and come back from the fire of a troubled past to reinvent themselves as credible actors/citizens: Corey Feldman and Drew Barrymore, for instance. And yes, there are those who made it through their childhood of stardom relatively unscathed, becoming serious A-listers, like Leonardo DiCaprio, Scarlett Johanssen.

But let’s not focus on them. They’re still around after all. They’ve escaped whatever it is that’s plaguing the entity known as ‘the child star’, unlike these unlucky souls.

Gary Coleman, Heather O’Rourke – natural causes
Corey Haim, River Phoenix – drug overdose
Dana Plato (and recently her son), Andrew Koenig – suicide
Winona Ryder, Edward Furlong – theft
Tracy Gold, Candace Cameron, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen – anorexia/bulemia
Robert Blake – murder
Lindsay Lohan – what hasn’t she done?
and this list goes on…

What IS the reason behind all our little ones gone bad? Can’t be the upbringing. I mean it could, but it’s highly unlikely. Many different families, different lifestyles, different parts of the country even. Hell, diff’rent strokes and diff’rent folks, right?

Can’t be Hollywood. We’ve got too many examples of success storied, and reformed bad boys and girls to blame it on the industry. There’s really only one other option.

The Rain.

Yup. That’s right. Think about it: we all live under the same sky, right? The same atmosphere stretches clear around the globe. Sure, different parts of the globe might have different pollutants, which certainly could contribute to the quality of the rain. But every single drop gets its start up in the atmosphere above our heads, no matter where those heads are currently residing. Do we really know what’s in the atmosphere, way up there? Really know? There could be microscopic, intelligent life forms just flitting about up there, wreaking havoc on our sense of nostalgia and identity. Laughing their microns off as they take the icons that we – as pimpled, greasy, self-conscious teens – once revered and poison their minds with thoughts of inadequacy, emptiness and self-loathing until they have no other choice but to ruin their lives by whatever means available. Sure, this doesn’t apply directly to the stars who’s lives were lost to natural causes, but who’s to say what’s natural? We’re talking about uber-intelligent anaerobic microscopic life, here!

What are we going to do about this, people? We can’t let this continue. Do you really want your children to grow up in a world without child stars? No one wants to watch a bunch of pot-bellied, pock-faced, gravelly voiced men and women muddle their way through middle school Nickelodeonesque comedies. No one under the age of 30 anyway. I say we take back our atmosphere! Trample the troposphere! Sack the stratosphere! Manhandle the mesosphere! Throttle the thermosphere! Excommunicate the exosphere! Show those meddling molecules who’s boss!

Who’s with me?

~h

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Don’t quit my day job –

– even though it seems I have quite the career as an armchair/earpiece counsellor. I spend more time advising people on their lives, relationships and self image than I do anything tending to anything relating to myself. Well, not really, but it does feel like it sometimes.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind it a bit. I love it, actually. And I’m pretty darn good at it, too. But I really think I need to start charging. Shouldn’t I be getting something for all of my thoughtful, insightful, well crafted advice? Time is money, after all.

There simply must be a solution. I mean, is Dr. Phil a real doctor? Or Dr. Laura? Maybe. But I KNOW there must be some folks out there who have the title but not the pedigree. I need to work on this. Find a way to peddle my intellectual wares. Any ideas?

~h

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Fat is the new skinny?

Okay, maybe not, but it should be. As long as I’m on the not-slim end of things, anyway.

Don’t like the word fat? There are others.
Thick.
Chunky.
Big-boned (a true state of being, I believe).
Fluffy.
Round, all the way around.

I mean, let’s think about this, people. Being fat used to be a sign of wealth. Only the wealthy could afford to eat enough to get fat, therefore being fat meant you were wealthy. So all the poor skinny folks were ignored – weren’t even given a second glance – because what good are poor people, right? I mean, what do they have to offer? (SO not my belief, by the way)

I think we need to bring back Botticelli’s works of art. Let’s show the world what REAL women look like. Child-bearing women. After all, ladies, we need meat on our bones – in healthy doses – so we can ovulate for even a chance at having babies. Let’s see some women with real curves in real places. Women with something to hold onto, other than over-exposed clavicles and scapulas. Women whose ribs are buried deep enough under skin and fatty tissue so that you cannot count them from the outside. Women whose spines stay tucked inconspicuously inside their bodies.

Let’s make it happen. And in honor of the not-slim woman’s new place in respectable society I think we should have a celebratory banquet. For all the skinny people in the world. And FEED THEM, for crying out loud! Then the world would be a better, comfier, snugglier place. Hugs all around! And then – you guessed it – world peace.

So see? What can Fat do for you?

~h

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20 things

Checking out a fellow writer’s blog I found this little nugget of fun. Thanks Regan!

20 things I’m too smart/cowardly to say (to people who shall remain nameless)

(For the record, I’ve actually gone out of my way and said some things that most people would only include on a list like this, so I included those, too – note the *)

1. Hey, I might not be a size 00 or even a size 10, but I’m an awesome person. You’re loss, pal.
2. How does it feel to take a life?* (not one of my better moments)
3. I’m sorry, but that outfit just is not working for you.
4. You are a selfish, homewrecking slut and I never want to speak to you again.*
5. Did I not get the part because I’m just a little not-slim, or was I really just no good?
6. I can do this, I’ve done it, and I’m good, and yet you still won’t hire me. Is it because I’m a female?
7. The way you said you wish someone would love you? I loved you like that. Still could.*
PAUSE – This is really hard, because I honestly usually say what I think. Hence all the asterisked ‘true story’ remarks. Okay, time to really dig deep.
8. Everyone knows you took the money. Every time. How can you look people in the face and lie?
9. I was renting that air conditioner for the summer? Are you f***ing kidding me?
10. That wasn’t a chocolate chip.
11. I’m glad you aren’t around. You don’t deserve to know him. You probably never did.
12. I just want to kiss you, I don’t want anything else.
13. I think you could be an awesome boyfriend, but I need someone who has a job, a real one. And who doesn’t do drugs (or sell them). And who takes their medication (or doesn’t need to).
14. You really are a horrible kisser. It might not be your fault, but it’s still true.
15. Those are attached!*
16. Sometimes I wish you were mine instead of hers, but I know everything happens for a reason.
17. I think it’s ridiculous that you’re 37 and still living with your parents, I don’t care how much money you’re saving.
18. You don’t deserve another minute with those boys, and I can’t wait till they grow up and realize what a deadbeat, disrespectful, dishonest, slandering, pandering, two-faced, selfish creature you are. I hope I’m there.
19. Shutup or divorce her already. I’m tired of hearing your whining. Divorce isn’t the end of the world. Neither are two of them. Just stand up for yourself for once!
20. GROW UP.* (I hate telling people this, because it’s totally overrated, but it was necessary in this particular instance.)

~h

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