Will they draft the interstellar war

I wonder if belt buckles will become tighter

If men will be taller

In the battlefield are there death tollers?

As you sign in your draft card:

man or woman?

will the war be so grand that gender no longer matters?

Must we bake with margarine instead of butter

Will all protein be spam?

All the food I eat is rationed

Glory to man!

(This is something I wrote a few months ago that I felt like sharing)

Plagiarism

Unfortunately ladies, either we have been plagiarized or will be plagiarized for the sheer fact that we are creative writers who write many words, some of which may be stolen without our knowledge. I follow very few author's work, but I have been reading JL Langley since high school and hopefully will interview her soon for an academic paper. She is a writer of romance novels and has received acclaim for her mixture of erotica and solid plot structure. As a closeted diehard for pulp and romance novels, she displays a way to reconfigure a genre from grocery store quality to literary quality. This is my excuse to still be reading her.

Plagiarism has occurred to her and I think she wrote a great post about it on her website. The main points she touches on are identifying plagiarism, what to do if it happens to you and how you can prevent it/give yourself more credence in plagiarism cases. Here is the article for your viewing pleasure:

http://www.jllangley.com/jllangley/News_%26_Notes/Entries/2011/9/21_My_Experience_with_Plagiarism.html

FINALLY

Hello lovely POWers,

There comes a day when you say enough is enough and you take action. Currently I am on my brother's computer for my own computer, which I dubbed 'piece of shit' my Sophomore year of college, has officially become a burden too great. It first began around two months ago when I could not log into either my bank account or blogger. Maybe it was my internet connection? No, because I was able to log into other sites just fine.

Then I realized a month ago, when my brother stop timing me at five minutes on his computer so I could pay my bills, that it was my piece of shit. My biggest concern was that I would have to replace it sooner or later. Now it is sooner, for now the computer is completely dead and I paid a dollar to use my brother's computer to write this post. The long absence will soon be gone, since I will be investing in the mac family. Lessons I have learned from my five year tenure with piece of shit include: if it makes a rattling noise, you will get shocked, and get the best damn warranty because it never cost me a dime to fix my computer through the company.

So now that I am back for the day I will supply my belated comments. Here is a list of bumper stickers/license plates I have seen in the past week that make me want to puke acid:

NC license plate: BWN Sugar

Corvette license plate: DEBTLESS (I hope his corvette is repossessed)

NC License plate: DEATH

Bumper Sticker: Faith:verb (no, it's not)

kisses.

Four Part Harmony

A literary Christmas gift to you all... as requested for theme of this month: a dark Christmas story.  Enjoy, lovelies.

This song is the accompaniment (and inspiration) for this story: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vNcGlM8O3I 

I

Hark how the bells

Sweet silver bells

All seem to say

Throw cares away

She stands outside the supercenter.  She was walking but now she stops and stares.  She has to stop to collect herself.  Her thoughts are swirling like the snow that is forecasted to start tonight.  This Christmas Eve.

She is waiting for the snow to fall.  To cover the past and make things new.  To make the world beautiful, if just for a little while. 

She closes her eyes.

She tries to forget.  It’s not working.  Her uncle, the man her aunt married a few months ago, occupies her thoughts.  His slurred words.  His suggestive eyebrows.  And wandering hands. 

She had arrived at her aunt’s house early.  No other family were there yet.  But he was there.  Her aunt was cooking in the kitchen.  They were in the living room.

She shuts her eyes tighter.  Tears squeeze out.

She left in a rush.  She was a blur of half-formed excuses and terror. 

She drove to the only safe place she could think of on this night, one full of rushing crowds.  Busyness to distract.  Masses to protect.  She is standing outside of Walmart. 

Christmas is here

People rush in to get last minute gifts.  Pick up the soda they forgot.  Get the ice before heading to the party. 

She doesn’t need anything.  Nothing she can purchase here. 

People honk.  Flip on turn signals to call an open parking spot.  Curse when that asshole steals it. 

Bringing good cheer

So she stands on the median.  Right on the curb.  Behind her, the scraggly stick of a tree that is left from winter is covered in blinking lights.  Her foot hovers over the asphalt as she opens her eyes and begins to take a step forward.  She notices the bellringer stop ringing and she sees it all happen before her.

To young and old

Meek and the bold.

II

One seems to hear

Words of good cheer

From everywhere

Filling the air

He walks out of Walmart.  His steps are heavy.  Even in their Prada shoes.

Ding dong, ding dong

He sees the bellringer making his insistent plea for donations.  He would give.  He has stuffed bills in before.  Last Christmas.  Even last week. 

But tonight he can’t.  Tonight, the night he should be most generous.  The night he would give the nice man who tirelessly rings that bell in the freezing dark of Christmas Eve a $20. 

Tonight he doesn’t have a $20.  Tonight he doesn’t have $1. 

He spent his last dollars on the ice bags in his hands.  They are heavy. 

He lost everything.  He got caught.  Embezzling.  It was only a matter of time.  And now his borrowed time, borrowed money, was up.  He knew he was going to jail soon. 

He hoped they wouldn’t come tonight at his home.  With all of his relatives watching.  Witnessing his fall. 

Earlier his wife had called.  Told him to pick up ice.  She had forgotten.  He couldn’t say anything.  Not over the phone.  He couldn’t say the words. 

He couldn’t bear to admit failure. 

Oh how they pound

The bell is incessant.  He closes his eyes.  When he opens them, he’s made his decision. 

Raising the sound

O’er hill and dale

He switches one bag of ice to his left hand and grabs the keys to his Mercedes with his right.  He drops the keys into the red bucket with the crossed slot, but the keys don’t fit.  They clank. 

The bellringer stops mid-ring.  His bell pauses in the air on his upswing.

Telling their tale

The man runs out to the street.  The car has just started to accelerate after waiting for a lull in the people crossing.  The driver had no chance of seeing.  The man runs out to the street in front of the car.  Ready for impact.

His bags of ice crash to the ground and scatter. 

Ding dong, ding dong.

III 

Gaily they ring

While people sing

Songs of good cheer

He stands in one place.  His hand moves automatically now.  Up and down.  Up and down.  He is the bellringer. 

He asks without words.  He guards the red Salvation Army bucket.  Tonight it is getting full.  But that’s what always happens on Christmas Eve.  It’s really the last time to give.  The last time of the season people will think about it.

Christmas is here

He can hardly hear the bell now.  It’s a part of him.  An extension of his arm.  Really the only thing that seems to be working on his worn, old body.  That’s what he thinks about as the people file out of Walmart with smiles and Merry Christmas on their lips. 

He likes this part of the evening.  The final rush before everything shuts down for the night and following day, when he has nothing to do but sit at home. 

His wife passed away years ago.  Sometimes he wonders why he was left here.  Alone. 

They had no children.  It never bothered him until she died. 

He still likes Christmas.  At least the lead up to it.  He volunteers as a bellringer as often as he can.  Taking the shifts of the no-shows.  He offered to take Christmas Eve when everyone else was reluctant to. 

He breathes in the crowd’s cheer.  It’s as sustaining as life support. 

Merry merry merry merry Christmas

A well-dressed middle aged man weighed down with bags of ice stops in front of him.  He’s fishing for some change in his pocket.  The bellringer smiles and wishes him a Merry Christmas. 

His donation makes an odd clunk though.  The man stops his ringing.  His arm and bell still poised in the air for the downswing.  The middle aged man has dropped his keys in the bucket. 

The bellringer stares at him in wonder.  The Mercedes logo is clearly visible on the fob. 

Then the unthinkable.  He rushes out in front of a moving car.  One that was just speeding up.  The bellringer can only watch.

Merry merry merry merry Christmas.

IIII 

On on they send

On without end

Their joyful tone

To every home

She’s practically running.  She is late to the party.  And said she would bring beer and peppermint schnapps.  She can almost feel the warm air escaping from the sliding doors of Walmart when she hears it happen. 

A car slamming into a body. 

People scream.  People call for help.  The woman turns.  There is a man dressed in a suit splayed on the asphalt.

She switches into paramedic mode.  She kneels beside him and checks his vitals.  Someone calls 911.  But there is nothing that can be done. 

He would probably be bleeding internally from the injuries sustained from the impact with the car.  But he hit his head when he fell.  Hard.  His skull has cracked and punctured his brain. 

She knows there is nothing to be done.  She also knows the on-duty paramedics that will be arriving in minutes have to make that call. 

So she folds his arms across his body.  And waits. 

She sees a teenage girl step off the curb.  Her eyes are wide and her expression is frozen.  The woman knows she saw it happen.  She looks up at the girl and gives her a sad smile. 

The girl meets her eyes then looks away to the scattered ice now reflecting the red and blue lights.  And the first snowflake that falls to meet it.

Ding dong, ding dong.

I am the Messenger

Through all of these book reviews, I have come to a realization about the strata of books.  (I'm sure I kinda already knew this, and that you do too, but it has been made abundantly clear now..)

There are bad books.  Badly written, bad/unexplored characters, bad/confusing/nonsensical plots, and almost worse than all those, bad/terrible theme or message of the book.  (We all know to whom I refer, here's looking at you Twilight.)

There are good books.  Books that have quality writing, engaging characters, plots that draw you deeper into the world of the book.

Then there are books that affect you.  That are not just good, they leave a mark on you.  They can make you feel, or change your way of thinking, or cause you to do something.  They are why we read books.  They are why we write them.

I am the Messenger by Markus Zusak is one of those books.

Rather high praise, I know.  But this is the second book I've read by him and the second book I've been wildly impressed by.  (The first was The Book Thief.  Fabulous.  Read it.)  A couple pages in, I knew this was going to be a good book.  And 357 pages later I am not disappointed.

It's about Ed Kennedy who is an underage cabdriver going nowhere in his life.  It begins with him and his 3 friends, Marv, Audrey and Ritchie, in a bank as it's being robbed.  Events tumble from there and soon a playing card, the ace of diamonds, arrives in Ed's mailbox with 3 addresses and times.  He has to go there and do something at those times.  But what?  After visiting these homes he begins to understand he has been sent to help them, to deliver a message.

I finished it yesterday while eating lunch at Noodles and Company.  I teared up a couple times.  In public.  This book has also made me laugh.  Which I think speaks to the range of this author, that humor and emotion can be done well and in such a moving way.

Aside from one small issue I had at the end about who is giving Ed his mysterious and challenging messages to deliver, I have no complaints.

The characters are messy and realistic and pitch perfect.  The narrator has a clear voice that can be sarcastic or heartrending depending on the situation.  In fact this narrator reminded me in a weird way of the narrator in The Book Thief, who also happens to be Death.  It's because it's the same writer and the style is so evidently the same, but it was still kind of interesting to conflate Ed and Death.

Oh, and the author is Australian and the book is set in Australia.  So I love it that much more.

Anyway,  the end is very moving and I am again impressed by the skill of Markus Zusak.  His poetic prose  and personifications kept me engaged and engrossed throughout the entire book.  I think y'all should read it.

Untimely

Two days ago was my brother's birthday.

Two days ago my brother turned 18.

Two days ago he became an adult.

Two days ago one of my brother's classmates killed himself.

My brother was not super close with him.  But he knew him well enough.  Knew enough to know that there were no signs.  No warning signs anybody caught.  No one knew.  

Two nights ago my brother called my mom.  I was watching a late night King of Queens rerun with my mom; she answered the phone, and I knew something was wrong.  I put the tv on mute.  At first I thought it was an accident.  One of his friends had been in a car accident?  My mom's voice was chilling.  "I want you home."  

My brother, instead of celebrating his birthday at his friend's house, was at a candlelight vigil at his school. 

"I love you."  My mom's voice cracks with tears.  

She gets off the phone and tells me.  I don't have anything to say.  No advice or comfort or knowledge of how to really deal with this.  Is there anything you can say?  My mom keeps saying to me "I don't know what could be that bad."

I don't either.  But I realized that more than one close friend of mine has said, after the fact, that they had once been in a place where they considered suicide.  That's all I could think about for the rest of the night.  

I watched Dead Like Me in my bed before sleeping.  The one where George has a very important reap and her grandmother comes so her mother and sister can mourn properly.  Candlelight vigils.  Some deaths do get a candlelight vigil.  Especially untimely ones.  

We have no idea how many lives we can touch.  That's what kept running through my mind.  I had never met this kid.  I probably never would have.  But my brother knew him.  My brother sat next to him last week during mass.  My brother had classes with him.  And now the shockwaves of his death reverberate through the people who knew him, and all the people that know them.  We have no idea how many lives we affect.  

After the many goodbyes we've had this year, I'm sure you all know, but in case you need reminding, knowing you has profoundly affected my life for the better.  I love you all dearly.  <3

More Princess Stuff

I realize I've been posting a lot of junk lately, but, you know, I'm just that kind of schmucto. These are two links I thought you would enjoy. The first is Punk Disney Princesses which, for obvious reasons, is awesome. My favorites are Ariel and Mulan. Though Belle and Pocahontas are close seconds.

The second is something that we've talked about before, Disney princess inspired dresses, but are these DIFFERENT Disney princess inspired dresses? I swear to god they look different than the ones we talked about.

Some of the dresses seem to be pretty LOOSELY based on the Princesses. (Whatever Snow White and Cinderella, you're just wedding dresses.) The Arial one is pretty sweet. Also, I love that for the Jasmine one they had to have the model sitting on a flying carpet in the clouds. Like we couldn't really visualize it otherwise. What fun!

http://www.buzzfeed.com/cityofglass/8-pictures-of-punk-disney-princesses-4eor

http://www.buzzfeed.com/ashleybaccam/disney-princess-inspired-wedding-gowns

Dream A Little Dream of Me

I had a dream about you three lovely ladies a few nights ago. It wasn't super exciting, but I thought I'd share.

We were in New York (obviously) and I had to present a paper I'd written on William Blake for one of my professors (obviously) which for some reason meant making a little display with pictures pasted on the back of cardboard like high school (OBVIOUSLY). And, most obvious of all, I hadn't quite finished it. Because I procrastinate like that. (Okay, that is true.)

So we drove down New York that looked nothing like New York, found parking immediately on the side of a main street, and then ran into a store because I had to buy stuff to finish my William Blake presentation, which I hadn't fully written yet.

As we were buying stuff, we found some pizza in this side room and, without knowing where it came from, decided to eat it. Then this shop owner came in and was all like, "What are you doing!? That's for the grade school children!!"

So we were in New York for about eight seconds and stole some kids' pizza. Nice guys. Real nice.

I woke up after that (sorry, it wasn't that exciting), but anyway, the point of all of this is we should take a trip to New York some day. Or some other city. I don't really care if it's the State Capitol of Buttfuck Nowhere if I'm with you guys (population-Fuck All). I'm thinking cross-country road trip in a few years when we all have money (okay, maybe ten) a la Britney Spears from Crossroads.

I'll even sing "I'm Not a Girl" for all of you to enjoy! :)

Had to Share

So far I have been a disappointing NaNoWriMo failure, but I found this and it made me laugh. It's fake twitter tips for reaching your word count in NaNoWriMo from famous authors. (Some long dead.) I especially like Tolkein and Maya Angelou. Enjoy my jedis!

http://inkwellbookstore.blogspot.com/2009/11/famous-authors-nanowrimo-tips-as-found.html

Genius Loci

Spirit of Place


the unique, distinctive aspects or atmosphere of a place, such as those celebrated in art, stories, folk tales and festivals; originally: literally the protective spirit of a place, a creature usually depicted as a snake.

The more I travel the more I have come to sense the distinct genius loci (Latin, for those of you who aren't Cylon) of a place.  Experiencing the unique character of different places has inspired my writing directly and indirectly.

Some directly influenced pieces were poems (written in Australia and Cedar Rapids responding directly to being in each place) and The Zombie Apocalypse Plan.  As I begrudgingly drove all the way downtown for 2 months this summer, I started thinking what it would be like if there was a zombie outbreak right here.  Where would you go?  Where would you run to?  Where would you make a stand?  I can't take all the credit for this idea, since Cerasi provided me with the title and initial concept, but having the story set in downtown St. Louis is purely because I became quite familiar with the area.  The story is constructed around its demonstrative setting.

(And I am working on it; I promise more will be posted soon!)

I think understanding the genius loci has also helped me in writing stories that do not revolve solely around setting.  It has informed and improved my creation of completely fictional places (like in Chronicles of an Escape Artist)  I know that I still need to work on 'place' especially in this story.  However, since I know how I want that world to feel, what kind of spirit this place has, I think I've made some progress.  Now I just need to ensure it comes across in my writing.


Many things can inspire me, but I've found some of my most consistent inspiration comes from places.  Especially ones with a strong genius loci.  And the more I visit, the more I want to travel to experience more of them.  Maybe travel writing could be in my future?

My Grandfather

My grandpa (dad's dad) died three days ago. We're going to his funeral tomorrow. I'm reading something from Isaiah. They had three readings to give away and I thought I'd do one. The last time I saw him was when my brother started college. He's was cremated this morning so there's not even going to be a viewing. I wish that I'd gotten to see him again, but I really did try to talk to him more at the end of his life. Sometimes there's only so much you can do.

I was going to post about this earlier, but this last week has been crazy. The day I found out my grandpa died I had to work at both jobs which including closing at the cafe. Also it was the holiday parade so we were there until midnight. It really sucked.

I feel sad, but when my sister and brother came home for Thanksgiving I felt a lot better. I wish I could think of something better or more poignant to say, but I've got nothing. He was my last grandparent. My dad doesn't have any parents anymore. I feel so sad for him.

I haven't really cried for my grandpa yet. There just hasn't been a good time. Does that sound weird to say? I'm sure I'll cry for him tomorrow. He was a good man, even though I feel like I only got to see a small part of him at the end of his life. Even so, I wish he was still here.

Again Not Creative

But the next thing I post will be. I promise.

I've been kind of a stress monster lately due to a number of combing factors and it sort of all culminated in me hitting a car (non-moving and parked) while I was trying to park beside it in my humongous van. It was terrible because I didn't realized what I'd done and I somehow parked it in such a way that our two cars were crushed together and I COULD NOT get my car back out. To make things worse my office building is really these two buildings stuck together and there's no main intercom system or anything so I had to walk from office to office to find out who's car I hit and then explain that I couldn't actually get my car away from there car.

All things considered, it went really well after that. I went up to the magazine office, crying. Not just because I hit the car but because I was all ready just about to burst into tears because I've been working WAY too much. This weekend my schedule at the cafe suddenly gave me all these hours that I've never had before. So after working 1-5pm at my internship (which has been stressful anyway) I worked Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. The shifts on Friday and Sunday were only like three hours (to cover the lunch rush), but I was closing the rest of the nights. And I was at the cafe until midnight on Monday because we were putting up Christmas decorations. (Which was pretty fun, but at midnight I was just about ready to murder absolutely everyone because I was so tired.)

To make things worse, the magazine has been stressful lately because we've been doing this thing where we compile all this statistical information about the area which suddenly means that I have to go rooting through the 2010 Census website which turns out to be surprisingly non-user friendly and it's been terrible. In a related note, I'm also ready to marry the local research person at the city chamber of commerce because he's the nicest most positive person on the planet and I've had extended phone conversations with him about how to find the demographic breakdown of the area. (Spoiler, it's mostly white.)

ANYWAY, back to me hitting the car. I went up to my office, crying, and one of the women from the graphic's department volunteered to go with me and help me. We walked around the building and fortunately the first office we came to had the owner of the car. The owner of the car was this extremely nice lady who wasn't mad at all and this other guy came out to help us extract the car. We ended up calling the police, just to report the accident, but that turned out to be surprisingly non horrible. The police guy was really nice and just took down our information and reported that we exchange insurance. Then the other guy got the car out and everything was fine.

The point of this long story that I really want to make is that I work with some absolutely wonderful people in my office. My assistant editor who I work with the most wasn't there, but everyone else was really nice and asked me all about what happened. Then they shared stories about the accidents they got in. The woman that helped me get in contact with the person I'd hit said that she was acting as "a replacement mother" and she was super sweet. Even the receptionist who left before I came back left me a post-it note that said, "Hang in there." The editor-in-chief who I don't usually work with even came out of the office to talk to me.

I feel so lucky to be working with this group of people. They're funny, they're hilarious irreverent and they talk about food and restaurants all the time. Seriously, they're all foodies. They also bring food into the office all the time, which I love.

The storm is passed now. I'm going to be finishing the thing for the magazine that's been causing me no end of heartache and then this weekend I'm going to my friend E's birthday party. But man oh man, it's been a long week.

I just wanted to share that with all of you because, you know, I love you and stuff. I hope you guys are doing well and not encountering horrible, stressful circumstances (which I'm sure the three of you are, all of you being in distinctly stressful situations). But if you are, hang in there.

<3

Housekeeping

.. Or rather, blogkeeping.

It is nearly halfway through this month and I don't believe any of us have written something for the Theme of the Month.  Unless I'm mistaken, we were going to write about things that inspired us.  

Also, if any of you did write something, or start something or had something in mind, for last month's theme (introducing characters) you could post that, since I think Cylon was the only one of us that did October.  (I was planning on doing more Zombie Apocalypse Plan because I need to introduce some more characters, but with Snapdragon gearing up I didn't seem to find the time.  I am working on it now, so hopefully I'll get more posted soon.) 

And (if we want to continue trying to do themes/ prompts...) we will need one for December.  Ideas?

Anansi Boys: I Want to Meet and Befriend Neil Gaiman

When I read Allya's book review, I remembered that I'd just finished a book and I was planning on reviewing it here. So here we go!

(Btw, the picture you see here is the less popular cover of the book and the one that was on my book. I didn't post the other cover because I think it's kind of ugly.)

I've been reading more lately because I take a book with me to work at the Cafe and keep it in my mail box. That way I can read during breaks. It leads to pretty short reading periods, but it's also a nice way to reading without distraction.

Anyway, I started Anansi Boys like several months ago and I was immediately taken. It's about this man named Fat Charlie (Charlie Nancy but his dad gave him the nickname and it stuck) who's living in London and about to get married. He gets word that his father has just died so he has to fly back to the states to bury him. That's when he finds out that his father was really Anansi, this spider trickster god, and that he has a brother named Spider (who is also a god). He ends up contacting Spider and chaos ensues as Spider is a lot cooler than him, magical and steals his fiance.

Neil Gaiman is an amazing storyteller. He has a really strong voice and a delicious sense of humor. My favorite part in the book is when Spider is impersonating Fat Charlie at work (because Fat Charlie is hungover and Spider can pretend to be him because, hey, people believe anything that gods say). Fat Charlie's boss has decided to fire him and he starts saying all these cliches like, "In every life a little rain must fall" but Spider keeps coming back with things like "Every cloud has a silver lining" so the two men just keep saying cliches to each other. Then Spider reveals that he knows Fat Charlie's boss is embezzling money and gets a bunch of money out of him. It's hilarious.

Another thing I appreciate about Neil Gaiman's writing is he takes a couple of pauses form the story to tell folk tales about Anansi (the trickster god). Like the time Anansi had to bury his dead grandma and managed to trick Tiger into killing his own grandmother. They feel very authentic and they don't really add anything to the plot exactly, but they're such good stories and they really help the feel of this old world magic that has perpetrated the modern day.

The reason I want to be Neil Gaiman's friend is because A. I love his sense of humor B. He' the kind of fantasy writer I really aspire to be like and C. I read the part at the end where he acknowledges all the people that help him with his book and he mentions his daughter at one point who he says was there, "When I needed a clear headed daughter to help me." It's very sweet.

I highly recommend Anansi Boys. The stroytelling is great, you really feel for the characters and his descriptive skills are awesome. Also, he's hilarious, which I sincerely appreciate in writers who weave stories that are also gruesome, violent and dramatic.

But be warned if you have phobia of spiders, there are a fair amount of them in the book.

Angelology

I finished the book Angelology by Danielle Trussoni.  It was an okay book, but I found myself getting more annoyed with it as I continued reading.  It was an interesting concept:  half angelic beings are the root of all strife and are among the ruling class of people.  Execution, though, was sometimes troubling for me.



On a basic language level, I found her writing too flowery for my taste.  But wanting to delete nearly one unnecessary word per page makes for a poor reading experience.  She did things (like overusing adverbs and saying things in a long, archaic kind of way) that any one of my writing workshops would have immediately jumped all over.  I felt like her language could use some heavy editing, though I realize this is more of my personal preference for reading and writing.

The plot was intriguing but a little clunky.  For about 100 pages (once we are already 150 in) she changes tack to follow a different character around in the past.  I found this sustained excerpt jarring, initially confusing, and at the end kind of unnecessary.  (We only needed to know the details of what happened in the last 35 pages of the section.)  To add to my dislike of this section, we were following around this annoying and semi-stupid girl.  She was naive to the point of stupidity, and since it was always brought up what a good student she was, I was annoyed by her simplicity.

Then we get back to the main character, a young pretty satisfied-with-her-life nun named Evangeline.  Umm, really?  Okay, we take that as it is.  Fine.  Then later we find out she saw an angel when she was a little girl and never demanded her dad to know what the hell he was doing with a captive angel?  REALLY?  She is also kind of simple-minded as a character.  Which I've found, as I read books with stupid characters, annoys me.

Oh, and the boy that shows up at the convent, and gets tangled into the messy web of the angelologists lives and the angels' ruthless plans, falls for the pretty nun.  And after a few tense situations, Evangeline starts to realize she IS capable of sexual feelings.  And they are directed towards the only man her age she's seen in... how many years?  at least 5.  Uh-huh.

Well, needless to say really, when two of the pivotal characters kick it at the end (in fact both are murdered)  I can't say I cared.  I didn't feel an emotional conniption to any of them (well, the boy was decent, he didn't annoy me and he had appropriate and intelligent insight sometimes).  But the rest?  Didn't really care for, wasn't rooting for them, and when the angelic lyre (which the book is spent looking for) is found and assembled I was kind of left wanting more.

I could tell you in detail about the end (which I had huge problems with) but I will hold off in case any of you want to take the dive yourselves.  I will say this:  there is a pretty big plot twist, and I was not engaged enough at the end to really care about how it affected Evangeline.

Oh, and this is only the first in a series.  I had no idea about this when I picked up the book.  Well, I doubt I'll continue reading the series.  This just goes to show you, all the wonderful and intricate fantasy in the world can't save lackluster characters.

Busy is Better

There is a world of difference between my previous shiternship and my current internship.

And the current one is so much better.  Which is a huge relief.  I would have been super pissed if it was anything similar to that last experience.  But it isn't.  I'm busy doing relevant things to their business.  So far I've gone through their entire website to make sure all the links work, and I've revised the copy and made design suggestions.  They are going to revamp it soon according to some of my suggestions.

I've also come up with the Google Analytics and Wordtracker numbers on a (super long - like 1000) list of keywords. This info will be used to determine which keywords should be added to the clients website based on the competition for the word, how much it's searched for, and how relevant it is.  Which I think is kind of cool.  I want to do something similar for my website, so that it's search engine optimized as well, but they haven't gone over with me the formula used to rank the keywords.  (I asked but the girl I was working with didn't really know since another lady does all that math stuff.)

And I also worked on link building.  So for the particular client, I searched this list of websites they gave me and I researched the contact info for each site and where we would ask them to place a link to the client's website.  This apparently also helps optimize the client's website for search engines as well.

Then, (I know this is getting boring - only one more!) I searched a list of directories to see if they listed some of our clients.  If they didn't I submitted them to be included in the directory.

Next week I'll be coming up with their plan for a direct mail campaign.  (I took a class in this, so I'm excited to work those skills and actually complete a direct mail campaign.  I've designed some, but they were never really used.)

So I've been super busy.  But it's good.  I like being this kind of busy, where I'm learning things and accomplishing a lot of work.

I have two craft shows this weekend, so hopefully those go well.  And then next weekend I'm going to Memphis to sell my jewelry at my aunt's home show.  She makes candles, and has some other people that make other stuff, and then invites a ton of people over to shop.  There's wine and hopefully people buying my jewelry, so I'm excited.

I'll keep y'all posted on how everything goes!

Everything is Good

This is a boring personal post. I actually do have part of a scene I would like to post (if I can brave the heartbreaking changes that blogger would try to make to a play . . . ugh, that will be nasty), and maybe I shall. But not now.

Just popping in to say that everything is pretty good. I'm feeling better about my cafe job, finally. Now that I'm trained on drinks everything's going a lot smoother. I hope that I can learn how to make fancy designs on lattes. I worked yesterday on Halloween and tried to make a ghost. It was more sort of a blog . . . but you've got to start somewhere, right?

(Sorry if I sound British. I just watched a British youtuber and every time I watch anyone British it's like the speech pattern gets lodged in my brain.)

My internship is good. Yesterday, I had a talk with my boss about how long it's going to last (because it was making me a little nervous, not knowing.) She basically said that I could stay as long as I wanted and that she loved having me there because I was so enthusiastic and had so many ideas (she's sweet). So I said that I'd like to stay through March for sure and then we can talk about it again then.

The intern that I have a secret competition with brought in chocolate chip bannana bread and left some for me yesterday, so now I feel bad for having a secret competition with her. I'll revise that. We're still having a secret competition (I'm winning, I post to the blog the most by far), but it's a friendly competition. I also found out she's leaving in December, which I know because the editors are taking all three interns out to lunch on December 1. I'm excited! Also, I'll get to finally meet THE OTHER intern that I've never seen.

I had a little bit of the same sadness as Allya because I wasn't doing anything crazy for Halloween. To make up for it, I just thought about last year when we all went to the Rocky Horror Picture show at Cylon dressed up as a fanciful man. Then I thought, "See, I'm an interesting dynamic twenty-something with great friends?" and then I felt better.

But I just started doing NaNoWriMo (national novel writing month), which I'm excited about because there is a group in my hometown. We had a meeting on Sunday night and there were a lot of people. Unfortunately, not many guys in my age range. I staked out all possible guys the second I walked in (I have a one track mind, so sue me) and was horrified to discover that one of them was seventeen. (AHHHH!!!) I mean, he's a senior in high school, but still. I realize that this is the first time in my life that jail bait is a real possibility. Not that I liked him or anything, I just automatically like to take stock of my options and I had hopes that maybe he was a freshman from the local college. No dice.

I spent a lot of time talking to him actually. He writes Naruto/One piece fan fiction which makes me shake my head and smile. Oh high school. Such an innocent time. Actually, MOST of the Nanowrimoers write fan fiction. The woman that leads it wrote a book about what would have happened in Harry Potter if Voldemort had one which I think is amazing. Also, she has a really neat accent. (Spanish? I'm as bad at telling accents as I am at telling ages.) They're an adorable group of people. I'ma try and make some friends.

Even better, I'm blogging about Nanowrimo this month for the magazine, which is exciting. Maybe I'll post a link for you guys to read in the draft section? If you're interested. You don't have to pretend, I'll understand.

I spent all morning putting the first blog post up for it and damn, Drupal has even more death formatting than Blogger. And then a picture I wanted to embed just wouldn't for some reason. No matter that I've embedded other pictures the exact same way in the same format. No, no. This just didn't want to. BLOGS ARE THE TOOLS OF SATAN!

Sorry, had to get that out of my system.

Anyway, I hope you're all doing well. I'm feeling good. I'm going to attempt to make some friends and try to lose some weight. It's weird to know that I'm going to be in this town for quite a while, but I'm okay with it. Hope you're all doing fabulously.

Linked While Torn

I finally finished is today!  This is a continuation of the series of poems I started with Beautifully Broken.  Like that one, this is another 3-part sonnet.  And again, Blogger is being poopy about formatting.  Imagine the "Torn to Pieces" section is flush on the left side.  And that there is only one line of space between the title and the body.



Linked while Being     Torn to Pieces


Beauty cannot              triumph always 
stay untarnished          be whole and gold
forever, yet we              travel this road
together as                    the steady stays
masts and ropes           until it hazes
-crack- will be torn      where this now old
break burns my            eye, glazes, folds
soul, so charring          shuts out the blaze
becomes scarring         that spreads without
and now I lose             control and when
what I wanted             extinguished, what
was always mine          dissolves, the clout
it's no longer                carried within
mine -never was-         never could be.

Watching "Dead Like Me" and

I know Ada, won't really care about this, but I was watching Dead Like Me for the upteenth time, and I just noticed that the goth girl that Mason hooks up with here...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzILUvTXn-A&feature=related  (start at 6:20)

is actually Kaylee from Firefly.  Hilarious.  I only noticed because of her voice!

Also, I just love Dead Like Me.

Belonging

I'm gonna say it:  I don't feel like there's a place I belong anymore.

I've talked to Cerasi and Cylon about this a bit, and I think it's because I don't have any real friends here to hang out with.  Since K fell off the face of the earth, or whatever, I haven't really hung out with anyone.  I've gone to the monthly Young Republican meetings and Happy Hours, but most of them are 30 and have their own circle of friends.

I had my first day at my new internship yesterday (which seems like it will be a LOT better, they're all really nice), and when one of the ladies who worked there asked me what I was doing this weekend, what was I going to do for Halloween?  I didn't have an answer.  For the first time, I didn't have plans for Halloween.  I thought I might be babysitting this Saturday, but my little cousins have something else to do.

I've always had a small, close circle of friends.  (As opposed to my social butterfly of a little brother.)  As I've moved from school to school, Memphis to St. Louis, this trend has continued.  But each time I moved I got a different group, and kinda left the old one behind.  I was terrible about keeping in touch.

This never really bothered me, until I realized as I come back to STL that I don't have anyone left here that I'm really close to.  I tried to get together with a friend from high school over the summer.  After she canceled three times in a row I gave up.  As high school was wrapping up, a different friend stopped calling.  Another hs friend facebooked me a couple times freshman year in college just to ask a question about what book I used during our calculus class together, so she could get it for her sister.

I wonder if it's me.

And then I wonder how I can find a new group of friends here.  How do you make friends after you're done with school?  I'm realizing it's so effing hard.

I have other stuff going on, and that's kind of fulfilling (starting a business, interning) but since I can't hang out with you guys, I don't seem to have anyone else to.  And it's proving really challenging to change that.

Maybe I'll try to find some writing buddies here, too, since that common interest lead to some lovely friendships.  <3

Anyway, sorry this was a downer of a post.  Love and miss you all!  

If the Disney princesses were real...

Saw this on Yahoo and thought of you guys!  Some graphic design student created what the Disney characters might actually look like if they were real.

Jasmine

Sleeping Beauty

Pocahontas

Belle

Esmeralda

Ariel

Ursula

Megara (Hercules)

Mulan

So basically if these Disney ladies were real, they'd be super hot.

And if you want to see Jirka's other stuff here's her blog.  She's got some neat work.

WIP: Does she know what a kiss means?

Character study:

When I come home she is waiting for me. She jumps on me as if I was gone for a millenia. I pick her up so she may kiss my nose, then struggle to leave my arms. Even putting down my purse is an event worth more jumping adoration. I make coos and congratulate her for being excited for me.

She is practically my child. Her mats of cottony fur, her wet little nose, the way her body is a few inches from the ground, her constantly inquisitive gestures, how she loves me for no reason. My two favorite things, though, are when we play with her toys and she barks at me for delaying the launch; and, when she sleeps next to me combusting a heat synonymous with a baby blanket. The best is when my hand on top of her ignites the same heat.

What scares me more than anything in the world is that one day she will be gone. One day this thirteen pound monster that has the protective tenacity to nearly bite a cop for getting near me will no longer be waiting for me. One day this dog who used to only kiss me on rare occasions will not jump all over me as I enter the door. One day this dog who is my shadow will no longer have the strength to jump into my arms.

One day she will only be a memory.

On February 15th 2002, we found her. She had ring worm and dark spots covering her. We had to wash our hands after we touched her. Thunderstorms meant to me letting her free of her crate and letting her sleep next to me as I watched TV. Her favorite thing in the world was belly rubs.

She slept next to me last night leaving a wet stain behind. Her physician said she was 'just getting old.' Apparently her back legs aren't very good either. She used to do tricks and stand on her hind legs for treats. I'm too scared that one day this will make her feeble so I have stopped doing it. In January she will be ten, but she is still so young to me.

She was my first dog, real responsibility, I ever had. She was adopted the week before my Bat Mitzvah, which religiously made me a woman. As an adult, I must take care of my child and ensure it love, love and more love.

I have treated this 'pet' as a child and now I am realizing all that love will soon kill me.

What will I do if she is gone?

Does she know what a kiss means?

It is preposterous to think a pressured random assault on her fur would trigger a romantic reaction. She usually just ignores the attack. When I kiss her face, she twists her head for she is resilient to mouth kisses. Her indifference never bothered me before.

Today I kissed her head and she kissed me back.

I just felt like doing it and she kissed my cheek in return.

I will think about tomorrow tomorrow, today will be thought of today.

Perennial Intern

I decided to try it again.  I interviewed the other day for an internship position at one of the places I interviewed at during May.  They wanted me to come intern with them then, but I chose that other place.

I emailed them last week, kind of on a whim, to see if they had any positions open.  And they did.  Anther internship.  I met with them yesterday, and the internship is marketing for the company itself, which is a small online marketing company.  I'd be oing website updates/ redesign, a direct mail campaign, and learning Google analytics, SEO, paid search, and social media.

This was right up my ally because I want to learn how to do some of that stuff for Snapdragon Designs.

I'm going in on Thursday and then beginning 9-4 on Monday.  They seem really nice.  And I'm excited to learn about this stuff.  And they said it could lead to a job.  My dad was worried because they are super small (3 people here and 1 in Portland) and their ability to grow enough to hire me on.  I'll still be job searching.  But now it doesn't have to be my absolute focus.

Anyway, we'll see how this goes.  I am excited, because I think this will be a better experience, but I'm still a little wary because of what happened before.  I'm glad I'm actually be doing something now, though.  

2 Weekends, 2 Craft Shows

The very first craft show I did for Snapdragon was not a resounding success.  I only sold four earrings.  And that was over 2 days.

I learned a lot though, and applied it to this past Saturday's show, which was a lot better.  There was a pretty good crowd until later in the afternoon.  I sold seven earrings and a necklace and gave away a lot of business cards.  

I have two more shows in two weekends and I'm hopeful about both.  I may sign up for a couple shows in December.

I haven't sold anything online yet, but I should get some more traffic from doing shows.  I'll keep you guys posted.

Personal Things (Preceded by Cuteness!)

So I'm leaving a personal post in the drafts (it will have "for jedis only" in the title), bc some things have been happening with my family. (Not super serious, but I don't want them online.) But before that, here are some likes to things that are funny/cute to break up the seriousness. Enjoy!

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=289688444388533&set=o.104185139630464&type=3&theater

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=230688390326316&set=o.104185139630464&type=3&theater

https://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=238324872890309&set=o.104185139630464&type=3&theater

"Most Beautiful Moment"

This really doesn't deserve a post....  But it'll be short.  I promise.

I just read on yahoo that the most beautiful moment during the last twilight movie is getting a lot of buzz.  It was a moment that Stewart prepared 3 years for.  I did not have to click on the link that would have taken me to the full article, because I already knew what the most beautiful moment of twilight was:  when it's over.

All the pieces are coming together

It's amazing how a lot of things in your life can be going kind of terribly, but when one thing just works it brightens your day or week or whatever.  Creating Snapdragon Designs Ltd. has been that for me.  

I ordered a stamp, have business cards printed, tagged and labeled my jewelry, and acquired bags; I am ready to do this!  My first craft show is tomorrow and I'm excited and a bit nervous.  I'm still doing some last minute prep work, but I'm kind of amazed how it's now all put together, branded, and ready.

On a related note, if you haven't seen the website lately, you should check it out: Snapdragon Designs Ltd. I redid the PayPal stuff and have added some more items.

Man, I'm really glad I've had the chance to start to make a business out of this.  Having this to work on has mercifully kept me busy at a time when I'd be rather depressed without it.  Anyway, just wanted to give y'all a quick update.  I'll let you know how the show goes.

Steve Jobs' Death

Now, I'm not an Apple girl by an stretch of the imagination, but I will still sad to see Steve Jobs go. He was a guy with ideas. Maybe a lot of it was making all ready existing technology brandable and better (honestly, I don't know enough about it to get into it, but I've heard people make that argument) but I still respect him at least a little.

There was some video I was watching about Steve Jobs' death and someone posted a comment about how "everyone is so sad about Steve Jobs' death but no one seem to think about the women and children enslaved in factories to make the merch we love so much." I think this is a little unnecessary. How come every time a celebrity dies someone needs to bring of the problems with an industrialized/first world society and juxtapose it to the conversation? I don't get it.

Anyway, the reason I'm bringing this up at all is because the way that I found out about his death was someone posted a picture of the comedian that plays the PC is those commercials and made a caption that said, "I'm a PC and I didn't die of cancer."

It's not like jaded, bad jokes about celebrities dying right after they die is a new thing. But still, that's how I FOUND OUT that Steve Jobs died.

Really guys? I find this troubling. I mean, I know there's this problem that every time a celebrity dies they get way more news coverage than say, a mass killing somewhere else in the world. But still, I worry about this intense level of cynicism. I don't think it's healthy. It's hard to afford a lot of sympathy for celebrity deaths. Celebrities die all the time, people die all the time, it's just nature. It's not like we have to have a moment of silence every time a celebrity dies, but I feel like there needs to be something difference about the way we approach this.

I guess I just feel like it's a short step from making a PC vs. Mac jokes when Jobs bites it to making jokes about civilians getting killed in war or something. But I suppose that all ready happens.

Anyway, I was wondering what you guys thought about this because my feelings are so mixed.

The Future?

Wow, this is just amazing and shows the amazing technology we never knew about. I have never heard of karakuri before and now I am obsessed:

Theme of the Month: October

Hey y'all,

I don't think we've decided on a theme for this month.  Any suggestions?

We could do the one we talked about earlier, at the POW conference: introducing characters.  Whether to do it all at once with a paragraph for each at the beginning or to do it gradually or any other way.  (Are there really any other ways of introducing characters?)  These pieces could be really any genre.  Though it would be a bit challenging in poetry...

How do you feel about that?  Any other themes you'd rather do?

Never Settled

I thought I'd better write about my coffee house job since I'm sure you're all waiting for an update. So far it's been good. The hours have been long. This weekend I worked for the first time, Friday and Saturday from 4-close and 3-close (close being 10pm). It was pretty brutal, but fortunately, the hours and the work load during the week aren't like that so I think it'll be okay.

Mostly I've been on food prep. I bring up food from the basement and stock it and cut tomatoes and stuff like that. There's a lot more food involved than I imagined there being. I forgot that the cafe does sandwiches and stuff like that.

Everyone's been really nice. I started with this girl and we worked together all weekend. She's pretty funny and nice. We're kind of sassy with each other.

I haven't so much as touched the cappuccino maker. Oh no, no. It'll probably be like a month before I actually learn how to make coffee. I've made a few sandwiches so far, but that's about it.

Today we had a staff meeting at 9am. I wasn't super thrilled about this because I worked 5:30-close last night (mind you, after working at my internship from 1:00-5:00) and I didn't sleep well. I ended up playing Portal 2 at two in the morning and letting our bunnies run around the office.

Anyway, I was late to the meeting kind of on purpose because I hate showing up early when I'm new because I always feel so awkward. The meeting turned out to be discussing "timeliness" which is more than a little hilarious. Everyone was really nice. They were all staring at me and they all introduced themselves kind of for my benefit. Honestly, it was a little disconcerting and I wasn't really sure why.

After thinking about it for a while, I realized something a little shocking about this job. My job at this cafe is probably the most nurturing job I've ever had in my entire life. I mean, my internship is good, but everyone at the cafe asks how I am and introduces themselves and wants to know things about me. The managers also talk about how they have meetings every so often with people to figured out how their employees can grow and what the next stage is in there. I mean, Jesus, I have never been at a job where the staff cared half that much about me.

And I think the reason that this bothers me a little bit is because I know this job isn't going to last. Everyone there really cares about the community and loves the city and I just feel like such an outsider.

This city isn't my home. I have no attachment to this place. Really, the only place I've had any loyalty to in recent years was the UI and I knew that was going to end. All of my other jobs, the cafeteria, the temping, even the terrible, terrible newspaper I worked for were all temporary by definition.

As I was driving home from the meeting, I started to cry. I wish I could tell the people at my job at the cafe not to bother getting to know me. In a year I'll probably be gone, god only knows where. This is just another group of people that I'm trying to make a good impression on in a short amount of time. When I'm gone they'll just be another line on my resume.

Is there something deficient in me that makes me want to leave all the time? I'm so tired of being in transition. My jobs, my house, hell even my ex-boyfriend were all transitional by nature. Sometimes I feel like George from Six Feet Under. (Cylon and Allya will know who that is Ada, sorry not so much.) I'm not a joiner. I just keeping leaving everywhere.

The only place I've really felt like home in the past four years was that craptastic apartment I lived in with the terrible bathroom. That and Ada and Allya's place where we would drink wine and complain about Stephanie Meyer.

I want a place to call home again, but it seems impossible right now. It seems so desperately far away. But I don't want to call this city home. It's a nice place but it's just not home.

But I guess that's just the price of being this age. I know that everything will be better soon. Two years, for real. I'm thinking everything will be a little better and two years. Besides, maybe this job doesn't have to be that temporary. I think I could make some friends, get a little attached to this place in the very least.

And no matter how much things change, I know I have you guys, which helps. You are not transitional friends. You guys are in it for the long haul. Unlike certain long-haired, Megadeth-loving douches I could mention.

I love you all. I'll try to post something more creative (/less depressing) soon. <3

Moving Apart

My parents and brother are out of town this weekend visiting various colleges, coincidentally including Madison.  So this morning I had to take the dog out.  I'm standing outside in the dewy yard only half covered in sunshine because the sun is still partly hiding behind the house.  Bailey is screwing around sniffing things so I'm looking around my immediately visible neighborhood.  Then a car pulls in the driveway across the street.  My attention is piqued because I haven't seen this car or the driver in a month and a half.

It's K.  And we haven't spoken for a month and a half because that's the last time I sent her a text (which she never replied to).  I'm standing in my yard tethered to my crazy dog who is trying to find the best spot to pee, wondering if she sees me.  If she's wondering what the hell happened as much as I am.

I was going to text her last night.  But then Grey's Anatomy came on, I had some Smirnoff Ices and soon it would be time for bedy-bye.  I thought that it was unlikely she'd text back anyway, especially if it was 9 pm.  (For the record in normal situations, I would have called such a person, but whenever I would call her, she would text back.  So I don't call anymore.)  I thought, Oh, I'll just text her tomorrow.

And then this morning happened.  Nothing huge.  Except that while I'm standing outside in the wet grass watching Bailey take a leak, I notice some men coming out of the front door of her house.  They are carrying a piece of furniture.  They are loading it into the truck parked outside the cul-de-sac.

She's moving?  Today?

This wasn't that big of a surprise.  I knew her parents are getting a divorce.  I knew her mom was moving to an apartment 15 minutes away.  I knew K was moving with her.  I knew all this but when I saw the men moving the stuff out I was enraged.  I was sad.  I was some bundle of incoherent emotions.

She's moving today?

She didn't tell me.  She didn't text or call or walk the thirteen steps to my house to tell me she moving all of her shit out of her house today.

What?

When was I supposed to find out about this?  When I finally decide that I want to make an effort for our friendship even if she won't?  When I text to see if she wants to do something and she says 'Oh I'm at my mom's place.  Can't.' ?

When did our friendship come to this?  Should I even call it that anymore?  Does our relationship warrant the use of that term anymore?  What happened?

I don't know.

I know people grow apart.  I know I've talked and complained about this situation to you guys and to my mom.  I know it gets annoying.  But I think if I can figure out what's wrong I can fix it, I can repair this whatever this is.

And then this morning I saw the moving truck.  I saw her car pull into the driveway.  But I didn't see her come over to talk to me.  I didn't see an incoming text explaining that, oh yeah, she's moving out today.  I didn't see anything.  So I consoled myself with a tub of red velvet cake ice cream and Firefly reruns.

Maybe I shouldn't try to repair this.

But I'll probably text her.  Finally.  This afternoon, tonight.  Asking if she wants to do anything.  Really, asking something else entirely:  do you still want to be my friend?  

A Very Embarrassing Store

In romantic comedies (or just comedies in general) there is often a slapstick scene where the hero/heroine due to their lack of foresight or clumsiness gets into an embarrassing/potentially harmful situation. (See pretty much every scene in Meet the Parents.)

Now in most romantic comedies it's usually a girl falling down a flight of steps or off a piano or something. It usually endears us to the girl as a likeable character we can easily root for.

My life is not so cinemagentic.

What follows is a story involving all of those elements without none of the appeal because it contains me and, by extension my feet. I apologize for sharing this story with you, but I can not hide my shame any longer.

Every now and again I come down with a case of athlete's foot (Athlete's feet? atheletes' feet? What's the proper punctuation there?) I don't know why. Maybe it's because I have very hot feet by nature, but it happens. Usually I try to ignore for a night or two and see if it goes away. If it doesn't than I have to go out and buy some spray which, after a few days, with get rid of this pretty gross fungal growth on my foot.

This past week I have been suffering from a bad case of athlete's foot. What happens is I get into bed and my feet, when they're under the nice warm covers, go into paroxysms of ichiness. When it happens at night I know there is nothing I can do so I just try to ignore it and go to sleep.

The problem with this, is that I forget about my agony when I'm awake. So it's a couple of days before I remember to do anything about it. Two nights this week I went to sleep gritting my teeth and trying mightily hard not to itch my feet. I cannot describe to you the agony of unitched athlete's feet. It's like there's a tingling in your feet but it's a tingling that burns. It's like little insects are walking over your feet and biting you . . . but it also itches. I heard recently that it's irritation and not pain that's the worse thing your skin can endure. When you itch a scratch, it's actually pain you're feeling. It just feels good by comparison.

After the last few nights, I believe it.

So last night it was about 12:30am and I was sitting in bed. My feet started to itch as I was falling asleep and I decided I just couldn't stand it anymore. I got up, threw on some clothes, and went into the kitchen to steal my parent's debit card.(Btw. Our parents pretty much hand us the debit card whenever we want any money, so this part of the story isn't quite as bad as it sounds.)

Why did I have to take my parent's debit card at all, you ask? Well, because I am currently broke city. I have less than ten dollars in my bank account. I start my job at Harmony Cafe tomorrow and I probably won't be paid for another week after that, maybe too. I literally could not afford the eight dollars to buy my own athlete's foot spray. It's just terrible.

So I grabbed my mom's card out of her purse (I grabbed my dad's initially, but then thought of how embarrassing it would be if I was caught buying athlete's foot spray with someone else's card so I put it back. (I can usually pass as my mom.)

I took the card to a nearby gas station, but I'm pretty sure that the gas station was closed and, to make matters worse, they had JUST decided to repave their parking lot apparently so I couldn't even get in.

My heart heavy, I went to the local Festival Foods which I knew was open twenty-four hours. I drove up, walked in, and I promptly realized I was the only customer in the store. I was very, very tired at this point. I hadn't slept much the night before and my eyes were watering. So I was pretty braindead as I started walking around the store looking for spray for my poor itchy feet (which were still itching mightily, I might add).

Now I hate asking salespeople where things are. I can't stand it. Whenever I'm with my parents and we go the store for something they walk right up the salesperson and ask. It drives me nuts. I want to hide. So I was going to be damned if I was going to ask one of the six salespeople that were taking inventory of the store at night where to get podiatric medicine. (It's so a word.)

I'm not that familiar with where everything in Festival is anyway and it's a huge store, so I had to look for about ten minutes before I finally found it in the aisles with soap and other cleaning supplies. (It was not by the toothpaste and advil as I had suspected.)

Then I walked out of the store, checked out where the clerk said, "Good night, Gladys!" (That's not my mother's name, I changed it here to protect the innocent.) To which I thought. "Yes, yes my name is Gladys. Because that's who I am." I went to my car, drove home, and immediately got out the bottle to ease the pain in my feet and-disaster struck.

I was tired, mind you, and I incorrectly assume that it was the kind of bottle where you took off the bottle top and then sprayed it. Instead, it was the kind of bottle where you just pressed down at the top. So I took off the top, realized my mistake, and tried to put it back on.

It started spraying everywhere and it wouldn't stop.

I had to run to the bathroom (I had been just inspecting it by the front door) and jump into the bathtub to avoid it from getting everywhere. The spray made the bottle really cold and it actually hurt to touch so I was having problems getting the top back on. And there was all my precious Lotramine Ultra disappearing into the bathtub and NOT providing soothing relief to my feet.

So I scooped it up off the floor of the bathtub and wiped it on my feet and then struggled to try to get it to stop spraying. Finally, I managed to fix it. Then I got up, sprayed my poor feet, and then spent a good five minutes cleaning up the bathroom. (Which included the snowy footprints my feet left after I sprayed them, which meant that I crawled on my hands and knees back to my room so I wouldn't get them on the carpet.)

Anyway, long story short, my feet feel better. Also, I'm gross. If anyone ever asks you, "What's your friend like?" You should, "she's gross." She's a gross individual.

Women in romantic comedies have adorable, pretty people problems and pretty people mishaps. No one would ever write the story I just told you into a screenplay because it is too unspeakably horrible for words.

Pretty girls never seem to have these problems. I wish I could be like them.