There's nothing like a crush...

...to make you feel like a schoolgirl again.

Yeesh.

You'd think, that by 32, I'd be past this whole crush thing.  Nope.  But you know what?  I'm going to just go with it.  Because he's smart, he's attractive, and he does nice things for me.  I don't know if he's actually interested in me or not, but that's okay.  I'm going to enjoy looking at him, and chatting with him, and I'm not going to let myself over-analyze every little move he makes.

But getting a mix cd is a good sign, right?  Even if it was more than a year ago?  And flowers from his garden two years ago?

No! Stop!  No analyzing!

I hate exercise

I was reminded of that fact this morning.  Actually, I've been reminded of it every morning for two weeks now. Yes, I'm doing exercise stuff in the mornings.  Yes, I may have lost my mind a bit.  But thanks to that extra daily activity, I haven't gained any weight yet this holiday season, so I suppose it's a good thing.  My clothes still fit.

It's not that I don't like activity.  I enjoy going for a long walk.  I enjoy going ice skating.  I like playing outside with my dog.  I don't mind moving around, really.  It's just... exercise.  Blah.  I get all hot and sweaty and out of breath.  I feel icky and tired afterwards.  During the exercise, I'm not a happy camper.

However, I have noticed that it makes me a bit more awake by the time I get to work, and I think I might be a little more focused, and I definitely have more energy.  So it's a trade-off.  It's one I'm willing to make, for now.  We'll see if my will power extends beyond the holidays.

What I want

I think I've finally figured out what I want. After 32 years, I think I've got it. It's not the easiest thing to verbalize, because it's more complicated than just, "I want a piece of chocolate cake." But even if I can't entirely explain it, I think I finally know.  

And apparently, I'm not the only one who knows what I mean.

I want someone who feels like this:

And even The Band Perry kind of gets it in the chorus of their song "All Your Life":

Well I don't want the whole world
The sun, the moon, and all their light
I just want to be the only girl
You love all your life

That's what I want. I want someone who will love me for who I really am, not who he wants me to be. I've tried to be everything that someone wants, and being up on a pedestal sucks. It's a long way down, from the ideal to the reality. I'm a real person, and I've got a nice big boatload of flaws.  Please don't expect perfection. It's hard enough for me to handle my own perfectionist qualities. I don't need someone else adding to it.

I want someone who has a life of his own and wants me to be a part of it, but not all of it. I don't want to be someone's 'everything.' I've been that, and it's too much pressure. I want him to be happy on his own, but I want to be able to make him happier. I want him to be a whole person, not just 'my other half,' and I want him to feel the same towards me. 

So there you go. That's what I want.

Now if I could just find it...

The Saga of My Borked Wrist

It was the morning of October 22.  It was a Sunday, an unassuming kind of day.  I was in sunny Orlando, assisting with a series of Anatomy of the Eyeball workshops for JCAHPO.  I thought it was going to be a good day.

Partway through the morning, my left wrist ached a bit.  I rubbed it and thought little of it until I realized that it was my left wrist.  There is generally nothing wrong with my left wrist.  My right wrist randomly hurts because back in 1997, I FOOSHed (Fall On OutStretched Hand) while doing pickups in tap class.  I was in casts/braces/splints for the better part of a year, and it took several years for me to be able to write for more than five minutes or so without pain.

I thought it was odd, but went on with my day, doing the workshops, then going out for drinks with some of the nice people I met at the conference.  The next morning, I slept in, then packed up my bags and headed down to get my car.  My bags were heavy, but I carried them all on my left shoulder, so that my right hand was free to fish out my valet stub and pull the suitcase.  I thought nothing of this.

The following morning, Tuesday, I hurt.  A lot.  My shoulder was in excruciating pain, my wrist felt like someone was scraping a serrated blade along the inside of the skin, and my index finger and thumb felt as if I had slammed them in a car door.  It sucked.  I figured it was because of the heavy bags, so I took some Tylenol, and went on my way.

By Thursday, I wanted to either cry or throw up, the pain was that bad.  So I talked to one of the doctors I work for, and he prescribed a course of steroids.  It helped a bit, but my index finger was still swollen and purple at the end of the six days, so I made an appointment with a hand doctor.  This was just over a week after the first ache.

He poked and prodded and x-rayed.  My wrist wasn't broken, which didn't surprise me because I didn't do anything to it.  He wanted an MRI, to see if there was a ganglion or other soft tissue issues.  He prescribed a wrist brace to use as needed, which I used daily at first, then occasionally once I realized I couldn't do my job with it on. Two weeks, and much pain, later, I got my MRI (last Thursday).

Today, I got the results.  Normal.  REALLY?  On the bright side, no rheumatoid arthritis, no lupus, no tears in tendons or ligaments.  On the not bright side, the pain is still there.  He poked and prodded some more and declared that the pain at the base of my thumb is due to 'severe laxity' in my joints.  He demonstrated on my good hand by moving my carpals around, and bending my finger backwards.  Apparently, normal hands don't bend like mine.  Makes sense, given that I can also mildly dislocate my shoulders on command.

So to treat that part, I've got a new splint, which I should wear all the time for 2-3 weeks, and if that doesn't help, I'll get a cortisone shot, and if that doesn't help, there's a surgical option, but I'd rather not do that if I can avoid it.  Did I mention that I can't take NSAIDs?  Yeah, makes the inflammation (which causes the pain) a little harder to deal with.

And that doesn't explain why my index finger is still all purple and swollen and cold, so next up is a non-invasive vascular assessment, which will require more waiting, and if that doesn't give us any answers, the next step is angiography, which is more invasive than the non-invasive test.

Blargh.

So.  To sum up, I'm in pain, and it sucks.

Stay tuned.

Failing Miserably

Yeah.  The whole getting-back-into-blogging thing?  Not so much.

But I have figured out why!  And no, it's not because of NaNoWriMo.

It's because I've got too much going on in my head.  There's a lot going on in there, actually, and it's all immensely personal, and I really need to work through it.  Problem is, I usually work through my issues by writing.  I'm afraid that, if I try to blog too much, I'll end up spilling my emotional guts here, and I'm not sure that I'm ready to do that.  I'm also not sure if anyone out there is really interested in it.

So until I either work this stuff out, or decide that I'm ready to spill it all to the whole internet, it's hard for me to blog.

What I'm going to try to do is plan for controlled release - I'll probably share little bits and pieces of my issues, and I'll probably also include several bits of short fiction.

Also, with some of the work-related pressure I've had lately, I've turned into a bit of a bitch, so I may have some scathing things to say about some of the books I've read... But I'll try not to be too evil.  I'll keep my comments generalized - I've been reading a lot of self-published crap lately, and I've made some notes.  But I've also read some good self-pubbed stuff, and I promise I'll tell you about that, too.

Um... yeah, this was a big, rambling post, but the gist of it is, I'm going to be blogging again, but I'm not holding myself to a schedule until I get into a better mental place.  Wish me luck!

I have an idea!

After several weeks of utter despair that I might never write again, I have an idea!

I don't know if you can grasp just how happy this makes me!

It's a love story, which strikes me as a bit odd, because I've written off the idea of romance in real life.  Of course, I still adore reading romance novels, and stories with romantic elements, so maybe it's not as surprising as I first expected.  I may not believe that everyone will find their 'true love' or get a happily-ever-after ending, but hey, it's still fun to read about, right?

I'm really excited about this.  I've started writing tonight, and I'm feeling good about it.  Even if this story goes nowhere, I'm writing, and that's a very good thing.

Maybe the rest of my life will start to come back together again...

*twitch* *twitch*

Those of you who know me in real life know that I often joke about having OCD.  At one point, in a previous office, my co-workers labeled me with chart stickers because I organized the sheets of stickers.  Why am I telling you this?

Because it's an issue.

I find that it doesn't take much disorder for me to become, well, agitated.  I can usually talk myself down, or distract myself, but the point is, I need structure.  It's funny, because you'd think that a writer or other sort of creative person would not want structure or limits or boundaries, but I can't work without them.  I need a deadline (and preferably a close one) to get things done.  That's part of why I work so well with NaNoWriMo.  There are definite goals and deadlines, so I get my wordcount and get the story done.

When I'm crafting, I often gravitate towards knitting, crochet, cross-stitch, and sewing as 'relaxing' crafts - because they have patterns that I have to follow to make things turn out right.  I like scrapbooking and card-making, but I find that I enjoy both of those more when I have a plan, whether it's a challenge template that I've found online, or a design that I come up with before I start working.

Today, I've been dealing with OTHER PEOPLE.  OTHER PEOPLE don't necessarily get it.  They don't always understand that I need to know what's going on.  They don't understand that, when I don't have any idea when a project will end, I get upset.  When this goes on for a month or two, I can't sleep properly.  I start living on caffeine and sugar, which makes me somewhat less than fun to be around.  Overall, it sucks.

So what is the point of this long, rambling post?  If you know someone like me, please, please, please take pity on them.  Give us deadlines.  Give us endpoints.  Give us updates!  Just don't leave us in limbo.  It's bad for everyone involved.

Movies and movie theatres

I was chatting with a friend today, and I admitted a big ol' secret.  While I love movies, I don't really like movie theatres.  Rather, I don't like watching movies in the theatre.

I know, it's weird.  Most people really like the experience - why else would it be such a popular date night?  But I don't like it.

Some of it is purely physical - that's one of the few times that I really have to wear my glasses.  There's something about the size and distance to the screen that just doesn't work for me.  Also, the broad, sweeping camera angles give me mild vertigo and nausea.

Part of it is the price.  I hate that, between the ticket and a drink and a snack, it's about $20 a person to see a movie in theatre.  If I wait a couple months, I can buy the DVD for $24.99.  If I wait a little longer, it's down to $15 or less.  So if I'm patient, I can watch a movie in the comfort of my own home, with my very tasty popcorn from my new popcorn machine, without my glasses, for less than it would cost me to go to the movie theatre.

Hmm... putting it that way, I can't figure out if I'm cheap, or just uncomfortable at the theatre.

Is there anyone else who doesn't like the movie theatre, or am I alone in this?

I like shiny things

A couple weeks ago, I had a Pampered Chef party.  It was a lot of fun - I'm such a sucker for those sorts of things!  I've had Partylite candle parties, Stampin' Up parties, Tupperware parties... I was even a Tupperware lady for a while.  There's just something fun about group shopping like that.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm not alone in my shopping in that sort of setting.  There's less guilt about buying stuff when everyone else around you is doing it, too.  Peer pressure, I suppose, can affect a thirty-something just as much as it can affect a teenager.

Of course, the yummy food and wine at Pampered Chef parties help!

I'm pretty happy with what I got, though.  I am now the proud owner of an actual double-boiler, not just a mixing bowl that doesn't quite fit over my pot!  I also now have an actual spice rack, rather than just a Tupperware box that sits on the shelf.  (But don't worry, I have a use for that Tupperware!)

Can you tell that shopping is a weakness for me?  Funny enough, I don't write many characters who have that weakness, and I don't really like reading about characters like that.  Hmm... if I were a psychologist, I'd probably have lots to say about that...

Letters to things

I am totally snagging the awesome letter-writing-stylings of Kiersten White.  You should go check out her blog, because she is really cool.  And short!  And her book, Paranormalcy, is a New York Times Bestseller (which I feel very guilty about not reading, because I read her blog faithfully, but I just don't like reading hardcover books - they don't feel right in my hands - so I'm waiting for the paperback edition).

And now, on to the letters!


Dear Spiders-who-look-like-dryer-lint,

   I know it's still a bit chilly outside.  However, I would appreciate it if you would STAY OUT OF MY BEDROOM.  I would also appreciate it if you would stop lurking in the basket of clean-but-unmatched-up-socks.  There is very little that freaks me out as much as reaching to pick lint off of the sock I want to wear, then realizing the lint has legs and is moving towards me.

Arachnophobically yours,
Danielle


Dear Clean-but-unmatched-up-socks,

   I promise, I haven't forgotten you.  I just had a lot to do this weekend, and getting you all back with your partners will have to wait until the rest of the laundry is washed and dried, the dishes are done, the carpets are vacuumed, the guest room is decluttered, and Otter's sweater is done.

Until my downtime,
Danielle


Dear Otter's sweater,

   Yes, I realize that you're a maternity sweater, and that we're on a deadline.  I'm working my hardest to get everything else tided up, so I can work on you without getting you covered in dust or spiders or mis-matched socks.  I'm not avoiding you, really!  I can't wait to get back to enjoying our time together.

Hurrying through the dishes to get to you,
Danielle


Dear mean pug at the dog park,

   Don't bite my dog!

Snappishly yours,
Danielle


Dear Blogglings,

   I hope you've enjoyed my outbursts at (mostly) inanimate objects.  I hope to finish reading another book to review soon, so we can return to a more writer-ly focus here.  Until then, please enjoy visiting some of the awesome blogs I follow by clicking on the "Links" tab above, or just clicking on this link to Kiersten's blog.

Always (trying to be) entertaining,
Danielle

Great Expectations

I know that I'm an over-achiever.  I'm also pretty hard on myself, and after yesterday, I think I may have to lower my expectations.

Here's the deal: on Sunday evening, I was lamenting the fact that I hadn't accomplished anything all weekend.  I thought about it for a minute, then realized that I did get some stuff done.  I wasn't sure if it was enough, though, so I sat down and made a list.

• baked and frosted a cake
• vacuumed (with some help!)
• washed one load of dishes
• washed, dried, and folded four loads of laundry
• hemmed curtains (which are, like, a mile long and curvy)
• made a sample scrub cap from two different patterns that I sort of merged into one
• wove in ends and finished eight dishcloths
• made french toast 
• went grocery shopping
• went to dance rehearsal (about 2 hours)
• went to theatre rehearsal (about 4 hours)
• ripped four cds to my computer and updated my music software
• took Mia to the dog park (more on that later!)
• changed my sheets
• changed my nailpolish
• took out the garbage

And all that is in addition to hanging out with my SO and going out to eat a couple of times.  When I sat down and looked at that list, I realized that I did a lot.  A LOT!  Especially considering that I had two rehearsals, plus an hour or so at the dog part, plus shopping.

So maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself.  I think the problem is that I keep looking at all of the things are still left to do, unfortunately.  But I'm going to work on it, because I'm tired of feeling like I'm not good enough.  Wish me luck!

Weather's got me down

Ugh.  Switching to a M-W-F blogging schedule has thrown me off.  Clearly, I missed blogging yesterday.  I'll blame it on the weather.

It's been raining for the better part of two days, and it's making me miserable.

I realized a few years ago that I'm very sensitive to weather.  I probably have a mild form of seasonal affective disorder, actually.  When it's cold and dark, I get unhappy.  If it's just cold, or just dark, I can usually manage, but the two together equal blah.

The rain is even worse - there's something that goes on with the barometric pressure that gives me crazy headaches. I'm hating this weather, although I suppose rain is still better than snow, right?  Blah.

On the other hand, there's been a lot of fog in between the patches of rain, and despite the darkness, it's been making me think about Meliora.  Lots.  I really want to work on her story again!

I must admit, I didn't do much writing this weekend.  Okay, I didn't do any writing this weekend.  I know, I know.  Instead, I crafted.  The weather was gorgeous, and I didn't want to be staring at a computer screen, so I opened the curtains, and spent time outside, and drove around.  It was great!  I think, though, since I have tomorrow evening off, and it's still supposed to be rainy, I'll pull out Meliora's story again tomorrow and have a look-see.  Cross your fingers that I still like it when I re-read it!

Pants-Fail, for the win!

(Forgot to actually publish yesterday! That's what happens when the fever fries my brain...)

Yes, I am happy about this pants-fail! I went back and looked at the pants that split last week, and it turns out, it's not my ass! The pants in question are scrubs that have been worn and washed weekly for the past three years, and the seam simply wore out. Hooray!

Also, I stepped on the scale, and it told a much more light-hearted story than I had expected.

Yay!

I still plan to start going to the gym, though. Pants-fail does not explain my spaghetti arms.

A WhoIe Pile of Celebrating! (and a little ick)

Merry Christmas, blogglings!  (I've totally decided to call you all 'blogglings.' If you wish to register a complaint, do so now or forever hold your peace.)

No, I'm not late, I'm part Ukrainian - Merry Christmas to everyone who uses the Julian calendar instead of the Gregorian calendar.  I celebrated the same way my family has celebrated for many years: I made pierogies for dinner!  I went all out, too (relatively speaking).  I boiled them, then fried them in butter and onions, and served them with kielbasa.  Mia may or may not have partaken in some kielbasa as well...

Also, happy 700th blog post!  It's crazy to think that I'm coming up on the three year mark for this blog.  Yikes!

Also also, happy 81st follower!  And because I ended up with 75 followers before the end of 2010, I will soon be having that bigger giveaway that I promised - keep your eyes open for more details.  And for those of you who commented way back in October, I haven't forgotten!  I will be reviewing a story soon for Franchise, I swear.  I just need to get a few more things finished before I can set aside the time to properly review it.  I feel that I need to put more effort into reviewing something that I've been asked to review than I do for a book that I randomly decided to pick up, if that makes sense.

Of course, life wouldn't be life if there wasn't some blah to mix in with the yay...  (TMI coming up!)

I wasn't going to make any resolutions to lose weight this year, but two factors have made me change my mind.  First, my sister is getting married, which means I'll be wearing a bridesmaid dress in front of people, so I want to look passable.  Second, when I squatted down to pick something up from the floor this evening, my pants split.  Ugh.  So it's time to start working out again.

Also, I've caught some sort of plague (hey, I'm a writer, I can call it a plague if I want to - a 'cold' is far too common), and it's making me cough a lot.  Tonight, I coughed so hard, I threw up in my mouth.  Ew.  Can I please be well now?  On the bright side, a new place never feels like home until I've thrown up there, so now my 'new' apartment doesn't need the descriptor 'new' anymore!  (And yes, I realize that's one of the craziest requirements for 'home' that exists.)

More from the Archives (sort of)

That last little story was written in grade 8 (since you asked!).  I was 13.  I've come a long way, baby!

But the funny thing is, my process really hasn't.  I hated editing then, and I hate it now.  I like writing a piece, and calling it done.  I went back through this story, and attached to it were several 'drafts.'  Back then, the teacher graded us on not only on the final product, but on the whole process.  I had three 'drafts,' each of which had to be 'edited' by a classmate.

I worked backwards.

I wrote what I considered the final story first. Then I went back and made changes that I knew people would not like, so that they would have to be 'edited' into the form that was in the final draft.

Yeah, I know.  Kind of arrogant.

The 'outline' was done the same way - wrote the story, then made up an outline that went along with it.

These days, at least, I'm not totally convinced that my stories don't need editing.  In fact, I'm quite certain that they need an awful lot.  But I still like to write in one big chunk.  I don't like to write detailed outlines.  And I'm not a fan of editing.  If I could just turn my first draft over to someone else to finish, I'd be a happy camper.

But I'm doing it.  I'm learning to outline (sort of), and I'm editing as best I can.  I'm learning, and working at it, and if nothing else, I've improved my storytelling skills since I was 13!

A Blast From My Past

(This story was written back in February 1993 - a glimpse into how far I've come! I have kept all of the original spelling/grammar/etc.)

Trapped!

February 17, 2293

Janie,

  I don't know if you'll get my letter, but it helps me to write this down.

  Okay, here goes nothing.

  I'm in big trouble.

  Remember how I was helping Professor G. on his invention last summer? Well, he finished it and on January 12th he called me and asked me to go see it. The "material transporter," as he called it, is supposed to be a time machine. I didn't think it would work.

  He told me to go in and look around. I had just stepped inside when suddenly there was a flash of reddish light and the machine disappeared.

  I looked around. I was in a courtyard, surrounded by a building about ten stories hight. Next to me, there was a building that said Main Computer Base.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around. A boy flashed a badge at me and asked to see my permit. When I asked what he was talking about, he explained that you have to have a permit to time travel. I realized that I was probably in trouble.

  The boy arrested me.

  Yep, I'm in trouble.

  I couldn't believe it! I was arrested for being mixed up in a screwed-up teacher's screwed-up experiment!

  The room I'm in is comfortable, more of a hospital room than a jail cell. It's nice because I'll probably be here for at least five years.

  I'll be here for five years because this generation has no disease. The person in charge wants me to stay here for five years to get rid of any diseases I might carry. The only people I'll see are workers who have been immunized against everything.

  Tell my mom "Hi!" I miss you! I'll write again soon. Bye!

        Marie Bishop


(The teacher's comments: "How can you write send a letter if your ahead or behind in time? This bothered me"  I got a C.  I can't help but wonder if an English teacher who can't use "your" and "you're" properly is really all that qualified to give me a C...  I'm not claiming this is a wonderful piece, not by any stretch!  But it's an idea of where I used to be.  Much improvement has occurred in the last 17 years!)

It's never 'different'

Everyone thinks that their case is 'special' or 'different' from every other instance of [insert situation here] on the face of the earth.  The fact is, your situation probably isn't different or special.  If you did something shitty to a friend, you did something shitty to a friend.  It doesn't matter whether you 'meant' to do it or not, or if you think that you had special circumstances.  There are certain rules in friendships, and when you ignore them, you've got to be willing to face the consequences.  Those consequences will likely include the end of that friendship.

Believe me, I know.  I've unintentionally done shitty things to friends, and had to give up friendships.  Luckily, I think I've learned from those mistakes, because I have never repeated them.  Unfortunately, I lost some really good people from my life.

So why am I blogging about this on a 'writing blog' day?  Well, I haven't written anything!  I've been busy moving and unpacking.  But there is a story percolating inside my brain... and I'm almost ready to write it.

You really shouldn't mess with a writer.  Fiction is a great place for revenge!

Confident vs. Confused

The last few weeks have been interesting. I have had a series of compliments about my appearance. Last week, as I was out walking my dog, a guy in a truck drove past and almost hit a trashcan while staring at me. I gave myself a quick check to make sure that there was nothing exposed that shouldn't have been, but I appeared to be fully clothed. This was both confidence-inspiring and confusing. I, like many women, am not a huge fan of my body. I consider myself to be slightly on the pretty side of average, as far as appearances go, but I can rattle off a list of things that I don't like about the way I look. When I get compliments, it's out-of-place with the way I look at myself.

I feel the same way about my writing as I do about my body. I'm on the good side of average. I can write a story that has a coherent plot, my grammar and spelling rock (thanks, Dad!), and I feel that I can keep a reader's interest, at least for a little while. Every once in a while, though, I'll share my work with someone and get a really nice comment. For example, my friend Cavid (not his real name) read and line-edited a story that I was submitting, and told me that he thought my voice was very similar to Neil Gaiman. This was AWESOME! At the same time, it was confusing and scary. Do I really sound like someone who is so insanely popular and talented? Is this a good thing? (I was assured that it is a good thing.) It just doesn't fit with the way I look at my writing.

What's the moral of this post? You know, I'm really not sure. Maybe I need to re-examine the way I look at myself, both as a person and a writer. Or maybe the world's standards are just dropping. (See? I can't manage to squash that inner critic!)

Not going to feel guilty

Aside from my Tuesday piece, I have not written anything this week.  Nothing.  I haven't edited, I haven't prepped for my game on Saturday, I haven't done a thing.

And I'm okay with that.

I read a post today by a guest blogger on the Variety Pages, and realized that it's okay.  Just because there's not a story in my head now, it doesn't mean that there won't be later.  I've been stressed.  REALLY stressed.  It doesn't surprise me that the voices have stopped.  My brain is just crazy with other stuff, so there's not room for much else.

And so I'm reading.  I'm reading like crazy, because that's what I need to do.  It's like my writing brain is taking a break, resetting itself.  I'm learning from what I'm reading, but I'm not worrying yet about putting this all into practice.  I'm re-learning what I like to read, and figuring out why I like to read it.  I'm listening to audiobooks and figuring out the difference between what I like to listen to and what I like to read.

So I will not feel guilty for not writing.

Although I may feel guilty about not preparing for the game come Saturday... I'll probably have to work on that!

Note to self:

Just because there aren't any cookies left on the cookie sheet, it doesn't mean that the metal has cooled down enough to be touched with bare hands.

Just sayin'.