Mood: 
Ready to kick butt.
Now Playing: Knees of My Bees by Alanis Morrisette
Now Reading: Song of Susannah by Stephen King. The series is ruined.
Swear Words Spoken: Way too many to count (gaming night, and the DM got drunk, as well as the sorceress, the dwarf and the bard--who happens to be yours truly)
The Chapter From Hell has reached 11 pages. Here's one of them.
Out of Nowhere: Chapter Twenty-Two
“You know,” a woman’s voice said from somewhere behind me, “for a bona fide hero, you look damned miserable.”
I turned, the familiarity of the voice more than the words themselves snapping me to attention. I’d at least managed to delude myself into hallucination. No other way to explain the sight of the person walking towards me. The pleated skirt I’d first seen her wearing had been replaced by khaki capris. The halter-top was black, accented by lines of beadwork in oriental patterns. The honey colored hair was pulled back into a twist held in place by a pair of chopsticks. She stood a mere handful of feet away from me with her hands on her hips, trying like hell to keep her face blank, trying like hell not to burst out in smiles and laughter at the sight of the suddenly stupefied me.
“I’m not an illusion,” Carly greeted me, “and you’re not dead, so let’s cut straight to the chase and go to the—“
“Carly?” I asked, because it wasn’t possible for her to be standing in the parking lot of some half-rate strip club an ocean away from her hometown.
“Would you rather me be the crazy dominatrix?” she demanded, quirking a brow in challenge. I’d damn well better not be wanting Maya. I wasn’t. I hadn’t been. I couldn’t have fathomed that somehow Kevin would conspire behind my back to bring a woman he didn’t know halfway around the world for the purpose of lightening my mood. It wasn’t possible that she could be standing across from me, beaming, looking ready to close the distance between us and jump into my arms.
She must have read my mind, for she jumped up, an in-place bounce on platform shoes, and bounded over to me in a few energetic strides. Before I realized what she was doing, her hands were planted firmly on my shoulders and the full of her weight was bearing down on me. I caught her around the waist as she locked her legs around me. Her lips pressed against mine in a kiss, one hand entwining in my hair. The move was so utterly unexpected that, by the time I was post the shock enough to enjoy myself, she was unwrapping her legs from around me and standing on her own. She was enjoying shocking me.
“I saw you on the news.” Carly continued, ruffling my hair as she spun me around. Arm looped through mine, she began steering me towards the door I had stormed out of not so long ago. “You and some guy dressed like a priest were laughing like idiots because a building didn’t blow up.”
“That would be me.” Kevin’s voice came from somewhere close behind us.
The girl I’d thought I’d never see again fell into contemplation as turned to regard him over her shoulder. “It was!” She agreed suddenly. “You’re the guy that called me, too, right?”
“Kevin O’Malley, ma’am,” he agreed, tipping an imaginary hat to her. “Your servant.”
“You called her?” Me. Of course.
Carly, not Kevin, responded to my incredulousness with a rather sound thwack to the back of my head. “Try to sound a little less happy to see me, how ‘bout it?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, finding the words harder to get out then they probably should have been. A moment of thought as to why made me realize I was grinning to the maximum of my abilities. She turned her attention back to me with a curious, slightly challenging quirk of her brow, a silent demand for me to prove it. Though she tried, her expression could not remain set in its seriousness. My borderline laughter was apparently infectious, for she bit back a smile by chewing on her glossed lower lip.
“I’m not allowed to give you a hard time anymore?” she teased. I was still so caught off guard by the sight of her that I didn’t realize we reached the bar’s entrance until I nearly smacked into it. With a laugh aimed at my obvious fascination, she got the door, holding it open for both Kevin and myself. The place as was empty as I remembered it being. The only real difference was that, this time, there was a trio of people at a table by the catwalk who had been waiting for us. Joachim saw Carly and waved vigorously, gesturing for her to hurry the hell up and get over there so he could grill her. She waved back and, taking my by the sleeve, propelled me with her to the table.
“What are you doing here?” I finally managed to ask. I wasn’t stammering as badly as I’d reckoned I would once I finally found the ability to think and speak at the same time. Talking was rather difficult, the way it always was when confronted with a staggeringly unexpected member of the opposite sex. I was overwhelmed by her presence, overwhelmed with the need to say something witty and charming and intelligent and relevant and all those other things I wasn’t used to being. I couldn’t think of a damned thing, save for the words that had just left my mouth.
“I called her,” Joachim answered, making me aware that we’d reached the table. The unwelcome interruption drew my annoyance. I was still trying to convince myself that Carly was here, that she was going to be staying for the rest of the immediate future. Joachim didn’t notice or, more likely, failed to care. “Well, initially, anyway. After that, Kev kind of took over. I said hey, Charles, remember me, the crazy guy’s friend? What would you think of meeting us all in London to say happy birthday to an old friend She said hey, why not and—“
“I don’t think he’s interested in hearing it from you,” Carly interrupted, observant as ever. “Nothing personal, I’m sure.” She turned back to me, but not before taking a pair of shots off the table and extending one to me. “But, yeah, what he said. I jumped at the chance.”
“Really?” I couldn’t help but ask. I sounded stupid.
“Alec, you saved my life,” she reminded. Then she stopped, or made herself stop, eyes cast downward as she considered whether or not to say anything else. Whatever it was, she wanted to go on. What stopped her, I would probably never know. She raised her eyes to meet mine and said, quietly and sincerely, “of course I did.”
Filed under:
Embrace the madness. // Insanity Isn't Temporary
Mood: 
Injured
Now Writing: Out of Nowhere, Chapter 22
Swear Words Spoken: About 30 (Customers are possessed by Satan)
I am the queen of nonsensical injuries. So far this week, I have managed to pull at least 2 muscles in my back and wind up with a leg covered in bruises, all without even the slightest hint of an explanation. The closest I can come was Tuesday when I was hanging fabric up in my cubicle to hid the nausea-inducing mauve pseudo-high-traffic carpeting that doubles for the walls of our mildly padded cells. I didn't even have to strain to do that, except to weasel my way into one corner and, by then, the damage had already been done. This happens from time to time, something breaks and I don't know why. All I know is breathing hurts, as does anything that requires any form or pretense of movement. They say you learn something new every day. I have learned that you have no idea how many seemingly independent muscles feed into the side of your middle back until one of them decides to smite you. My grandmother keeps offering t dope my up with Loratabs, which I am refusing on what little moral high ground, I have left. I've seen too many people use them as gateway drugs to far more dangerous things. I can handle the pain, just as long as I kick back in my chair, arch my spine to an unnatural curve, throw my head back and learn to handle the ensuing head rush without passing out.
I have also learned to be careful what you wish for. I have been doing an inordinate amount of whining, crying and generally groveling for a vacation away from this health-hazard of an office (complete with repeated flooding, multiple roof collapses and now, yes, black mold). A few months ago, I started planning a September jaunt down to Vegas to be iniquitous with Zombie, and that is coming together nicely. I have everything taken care of, including traveling partner in the form of a guy who’s funny, charming and easy on the eyes. I’ve also been thinking of driving down to South Carolina to see Pandora, which I just arranged time off for. However, I have just been informed that my grandfather is thinking of taking me and the crazy lady up to New Jersey for a few days in July, which means I can hop a commuter train and crash in Manhattan while they do the family thing. I can’t wait to go museum-hopping and check out all the districts I have somehow never wandered down to during all my previous trips. And then there’s the wonder known as the Broadway musical….. For a trip that is now only a loose idea, I am making entirely too many plans. I’ve acquired a few days off next week, as well as a 5-day weekend in October. I officially have more vacations than I can shake a very long stick at, and absolutely no way to finance them all.
In the lucky break dept, Tara’s offering to let me freeload with her for a while. She’s back to living alone and missing the company. I am highly considering taking her up on it on a part-time basis. I have entirely too much junk to make a permanent move, but a few days a week sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a while. We work similar schedules at the office, and could get in the habit of running around and maybe even picking up our workout schedule again. I can’t believe I’m saying this, as it’s one of those little phrases that I’ve always thought myself too lethargic to ever say, but I miss jogging. My shoulders and what little progress I made on my abs has disappeared into nothingness. If I’m planning to do this much traveling to interesting locales, I need to get toned up so I can wear something other than jeans and a tee shirt.
I am also back to wanting to become the Cat Lady. I have one already, Mirage the chatterbox, and a step-cat who lives with Tara’s dad. Mike and Andi, my RPG partners are considering giving up one of their cats, an adorable undersized black and white bobtail aptly named Trouble. Trouble adores me, and regularly curls up on my lap to nap during gaming, something I am assured she does not do to other people. I adore Trouble, and there is a possibility that she will need a new home soon, due to another cat in the household occasionally terrorizing her. If they are thinking of giving Trouble up, I am thinking of adopting her, which may prove difficult, as I am not allowed to bring another cat into my household. I am currently devising elaborate smuggling and hiding plans.
Filed under:
(1) Embraced the madness. // Insanity Isn't Temporary
Off to bedNow Playing: Downfall by Matchbox Twenty
Now Reading: Song of Susannah by Stephen King
Swear Words Spoken: More than 20 (had to work the phones at work and interact with the idiots firsthand)
Whatever happened to the young man’s heart
Swallowed by the pain as he slowly fell apart
And I’m staring down the barrel of a .45
S wimming through the ashes of another life.
--Shinedown
Yep, that’s Vel in a nutshell. Figured since this is another of those writing rants, I’d post it for the people who have read the book and get the significance.
I am officially past the halfway point in the necessary evil that has become the chapter from hell. I’ve waded through the inner emotional turmoil and the drunken self-loathing. I’ve got all the necessary little paragraphs required to join the larger sections hammered out. I have a rather pathetic nine pages to show for it, but when converted to almost 6,000 words, I feel halfway satisfied. I figured this entire chapter would top out around 5 or less. From here, the chapter is downhill. Things to cover include one (1) emotional reunion that gets a little screwy due to the fact that my narrator specializes in neither logic, emotion or sanity; two (2) a very quick, very panicked cellular phone conversation that serves to put the rest of the book on its downward spiral into hell (otherwise known as the climax) and (3) all parties involved getting their half-drunken asses out of the bar and on their way back to the posts they abandoned.
Filed under:
(1) Embraced the madness. // Insanity Isn't Temporary
Mood: Mind-humping madness
(want in on the action? click BDI's fabulous piggie mascot)
Swear Words Spoken: 4
In honor of Ice Cream day which commemorates the day in 1786 that ice cream was first sold in the United states let's start with a cool warm up. Using the letters of your favorite Ice cream reveal some quirky things about yourself.
N – New York City, my favorite place in the world. I travel there as often as I can and spend all my time taking pictures of architecture and walking around museums. So much for the hot nightlife, I’m usually in bed by midnight when I vacation.
E – Extremely unquirky. Weird, yes. Confused, yes, but I live a life that’s too ordinary to be considered quirky.
O – Out of Nowhere, my literary opus. I am rapidly approaching my tenth anniversary of working on this book, trying to get it to my version of perfection, only to have it butchered shortly thereafter by some editor I shall resent for the rest of my being.
P – Plush armadillos. I collect them, and am always looking for new fuzzy stuffed animals to add to my armadillo collection.
O – Otei. Yes, I know it’s spelled Hotei, but the box I bought the miniature deity sculpture in had a gross typo on the front, so Otei stuck for a while. This patron god of happiness, contentment, wine and bartenders sits on the corner of a zen garden in my cubicle.
L – Las Vegas. Going in September to meet Zombie and counting down the days until I get there.
I – Involved with two separate Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, where I am having entirely too much fun crusading against imaginary demons. I am in the preliminary stages of planning a campaign to run. Total geek, that’s me.
T – The Dark Tower series by Stephen King is my favorite literary series, followed closely by Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe books and Laurell K.Hamilton’s Anita Blake series.
A – “As soon as you feel too old to do a thing, do it.” The quote is from a fortune cookie I got a few years ago and carry around in my billfold as a reminder that you are never too old to try new things.
N – Not a people person. Seriously, I’m not. Trust me on this one.
Now that we're warmed up let's get humpin’ and have a total meltdown!
01. You are a source of light. What are you and why? A candle in the darkness, glowing faintly with just enough light to lift the immediate darkness around you and make you feel safer. I say this because I abhor sunlight and avoid it like most people avoid infectious disease. People also gravitate to me, for reasons I don’t entirely understand, as a trustworthy person they can rely on in times of personal darkness.
02. There's a huge neon sign above your head everywhere you go ... what is it flashing? I’m have absolutely no idea what’s going on.
03. If you could be anyone's blog, whose would you be and why? ) Xaos’s. Because she’s sultry, sexy, and an absolutely enthralling conversationalist whose mind is as provocative as her good looks. She is, without a doubt, the world’s sexiest blogger.
04. If you could have a vanity phone number, what would it be and what would it spell? 662-2557: NO CALLS. I hate talking on the phone. I do it for eleven hours a day at my place of employment and have no desire to use the damned contraption any more beyond those 11 hours.
05. Look around you .... name two odd things in your vicinity and explain why they are are there. A pirate flag, hand-painted and complete with the Jolly Roger. We are having a decorating contest that’s between all the teams in our office, and our row is a pirate ship. Also, a plastic margarita glass in the shape of a palm tree with Mardi Gras beads hanging out of it. My manager gave the beads to me yesterday, when he walked by dressed like a leprechaun and pretending to play an inflatable mini electric guitar. (I work at a very quirky place, don’t I? Explains the quality of some of the technical support you get when you call in for internet repairs, if you think about it.)
Filed under:
(5) Embraced the madness. // Insanity Isn't Temporary
The only thing I ask, is keep your fucking story straight. Don’t start off my morning with a grocery list of errands and requests then turn around and have the nerve to tell me, to my face, and in front of witnesses, that you never ask me to do anything. I loan you my car on days I have to work without complaint, I balance your checkbook, pay your insurance and chauffeur you around to places you could easily go myself. My days off look more like a fucking to-do list than forty-eight hours of mindless relaxation. That’s not enough, by the way. I just cashed in my last two days of time off for this year because you said you needed me to help you around the house. So don’t you dare stand in front of me, look me in the eye and tell me you never ask me to do anything. We’ve been through this before, for the past seven years, and we’re not doing it anymore.
You have two options.
Don’t ask me to do anything ever again.
Or get your fucking story straight., because the only time we have this problem is when I stop doing cartwheels around your schedule and try to have a few hours to myself.
I’m so mad right now that I’m shaking. My fingers keep tripping over the keys to the point where I’m giving my spell-check a nervous breakdown. I’m crying, which is fabulous, because crying is one of those signs of weakness that is a complete and unbearable emotional turn-off to me. I hate it when people cry. I find crying in general rather pathetic, and I do not appreciate being told that I am blowing things out of proportion when the only reason we’re having a disagreement to begin with is because you didn’t listen to me the past five times we’ve has this particular blowout. You obviously aren’t listening, or making an effort to learn from past discussions, for lack of a more diplomatic phrasing, and I’m losing patience over this particular matter to the point to where things are getting volatile. I am not overreacting, I just think that the people in my life are finding it rather unacceptable that sometime after my mother died and just before I graduated college, I finally decided I was sick and tired of being a dormant for everyone and not being allowed to breathe without permission or, god forbid, go up to a friends for a few hours of gaming. Apparently that conflicts with your schedule and, regrettably, I’ve spoiled you both to the point where you refuse to accept no for an answer, because there’s obviously something wrong with me and I have no respect. Maybe that’s the case, but I have a full time job that regularly demands ten hours of overtime a week, working hours that are ass-backwards to the schedule the rest of the world runs on.
And, furthermore, forgive me for not being psychic. If you make plans that involve me, and you neglect to inform me of these plans, don’t be so damned surprised when I have somewhere else to be. Don’t tell me we had a “day.” There is no day. I don’t have a schedule that stays stable long enough to plan anything more than 48 hours in advance, and even that is subject to change.
The part that kills me, that really kills me, and the part that’s making me so mad I want to scream is that not so long ago, back in the olden days of March, 2004, we had this talk. We came to some resolutions about theses things. All of which have apparently gone down the bloody drain, because you’re looking at me like this is the first time we’ve had this argument. It’s isn’t. Nor is it this third, fourth or fifth.
I can’t live like this. I can’t. I’m mutating into a life form filled with negativity that seethes with bitterness, sarcasm, and a hell of a lot of resentment for the world at large. I’ve reached the breaking point in my life where I’m teetering on the edge of a monumental emotional collapse from six years of unresolved issues that date back to the fact that I’ve never even started to deal with the fact that I had to bury my mother, write the tombstone, the obituary, pick out the dress and the flowers because the people who should have stepped up and taken charge chose to leave that task to a seventeen year-old girl. Because these same people still aren’t taking charge or taking responsibility or treating me like I’m anything more than expendable labor and an emotional pincushion. Considering the facts that I lost my mother at 17, have a stepfather I could make a halfway solid case for sexual abuse against, a stepbrother who I’m scared to death is going to die of a drug overdose and so many years of emotional baggage from other people dumped on my shoulders it’s a miracle I’ve turned out as well as I have. I’m trying to make something out of my life, and I stay in line, and follow the rules and don’t do anything I could get in trouble for. So I don’t find it remotely amusing that no one seems to remember these facts and every single step out of line I take is suddenly a worst-case scenario.
I am losing my mind one day at a time and I can’t decide if the people I keep screaming at to back off or help me or get the hell out of my way are deaf or just don’t give a shit as long as it doesn’t interfere with their plans for me. And I am so scared right now that once I do break I’m not going to be able to recover, and I’m so damned alone in this world that I don’t have a single person in my life I honestly trust with my emotions. Or maybe I just don’t enjoy being a burden. I don’t know. I don’t care. And I’m starting to think it doesn’t make a difference.
I’m starting to wonder if anything does, and I‘m getting ready to start cutting a hell of a lot of people out of my life. I hate to feel this way, and I hate to think this way, and what I hate most of all is believing this is true: the only thing people in this world are good for are tearing you down and cutting you so deep that you wonder why in the hell you ever allowed yourself to feel enough to begin with. And I wish to god I was saying this about a significant other, because at least then I could have angst romantic melodrama on my side. But I’m talking about my family, about my mother’s parents, and that kind of poison is the kind that does damage that doesn’t heal. And I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do, because what they don’t realize is that they need me a lot more than I need them. A lot more and as much as I wish otherwise, I’m not entirely convinced I could leave them alone without a little more guilt to carry around on an already overburdened conscious.
For once, just for once, I want to be good enough. At anything. With anyone. I don’t want to feel like I have to be improved, or feel guilty, or somehow defective.
If you happen to read this message, DO NOT leave me comments saying I can talk to you. DO NOT leave advice, because I’m too mad to give a shit about what anyone thinks. You don’t know me. You probably never will, and I‘m not in the mood or the state of mind to react favorably to words from anyone who hasn‘t lived this life minute for minute, hour for hour. I’m just writing to get the bulk of this emotion out of me, and to wear myself down so that I can at least get to sleep now instead of halfway through my shift at work.
Filed under:
(5) Embraced the madness. // Insanity Isn't Temporary
Mood: 
Confused Beyond Reason.
Now Playing:
Now Reading: Obsidian Butterly by Laurell K. Hamilton (finally)
Just Finished Writing: Chapter Ten of Jinx
Swear Words Spoken: 5
I really want this. Badly. Desperately. So badly that I’m sitting here with my pointer on the pre-order button creating an account with this company. There’s only one problem. The company refuses to ship to P.O. Boxes. I have a P.O. Box. They also claim that, somewhere, I have to have a street address. I have a house. It is on a street. However, as anyone who lives in this particular part of the world will attest, having a house on a street does not a street address make.
Confused?
At least you don’t want the action figure badly enough to be sitting over a laptop penning an entry about how to deal with the latest absurd dilemma to cross your path.
I need to borrow an address, as I live in a part of town that is in UPS/FedEx limbo. I have seriously had drivers wind up in the next town down the road looking for a house on my little apparently nonexistent road. Delivery trucks show up on this road looking for people and streets I have never heard of, that I am fairly certain do not exist in this part of the county. We are, simply put, utterly fucked if we want to get anything delivered through any means other than the United States Postal Service.
I used to have way around this problem. Before Gran moved in with us, she had a perfectly viable street address to send all my packages to. But now she lives here, and her own packages have started showing up less and less frequently. In fact, the last time I had to finally break down and agree to meet the UPS man on neutral territory along the side of a well-known highway just between the movie theater and the pizza place.
That’s how mixed up and virtually nonexistent the address system is for about a 2-mile radius, with my street being the epicenter of the confusion. When, after 4 failed attempts at delivery due to gross errors in communication and direction on the part of the driver, you say “you know what, tell me where you are and I’ll meet you there,” you know that the numbering system makes no sense. I should not have to go through all this to pick up one measly little box, so my pre-order of this wonderful little toy I’ve found has me wondering about alternate shipping solutions.
From what she’s told me, Tara’s street address is as mixed up as mine. Kisha moved to Florida so sending it to her place is out. Besides, strangely enough, she always sent all her stuff to my P.O. Box or, barring that, my grandmother‘s street address. Apparently the system is more screwed up than initially suspected.
I was considering mailing my toy in a box to the office. It would definitely find me there. But its arrival might be frowned upon by management, or worse, mistaken for a bomb sent by some former, disgruntled employee. I assure you that there is no shortage of them. There is also the problem of our roof collapsing every time it rains and flooding the place with standing water. Someone complained to OSHA, so our building may not be around for much longer, seeing as how the problem isn’t exactly getting rectified.
I am officially almost out of options, save for one rather ingenious and desperate ploy. My present plan is this: Give them the street address of the Post Office and list my apartment # as my Post Office Box #. The Postal Service should be able to figure it out from there, and despite a few confuse looks, slip me one of those bright yellow “You’ve Got Box” slips into my P.O. Box and let me claim the package at the counter.
Filed under:
(5) Embraced the madness. // Insanity Isn't Temporary
Mood: Mind-humping madness
(want in on the action? click BDI's fabulous piggie mascot)
Now Playing: .45 by some band I have yet to learn the name of
Swear Words Spoken: 0
Today is also National Rocky Road Day. As a warm up, using the letters
R-O-C-K-Y R-O-A-D reveal some interesting facts about you.
R – Road trip addict. I love to drive, and these high gas prices are killing me. I love taking the long way around, backtracking, overshooting my destination and then turning around. Sadly, those days are on temporary hiatus.
O – Occasional, The. This place origianlly started out as a printed newsletter, believe it or not, that amused the hell out of it's 2.5 occasional subscribers. This weblog makes life so much easier, and cuts down on cheesiness. At least I have tried to cut down on cheesiness.
C – Cat person. Cats love me. I have aspirations to buy a big house on lots of land and be the Cat Lady in my golden years.
K – Kenny McCormick is by far my favorite South Park character. And, yes, I watch South Park on occasional.
Y – Yearly vacation. I have two of them coming up. Five straight days of nothingness to look forward in two weeks, and a trip to Las Vegas to hang out and thrift store shop with Zombie in September. I also need to talk to Pandora about scheduling a weekend in South Carolina.
R – Rome, Italy. Destination of my next major vacation, planned for October, 2005.
O – Odin, greatest god of the Norse pantheon. He looks out for me in all my RPGs. I definitely have his ear. He seems to be doing some pretty interesting things in real life for me as well.
A – 'A' names. I am obsessed with them. They are elegant, gorgeous and sexy. Proof of my love of the letter can be found in some of the names floating around my novels: Alec, Amon, Adrian, Arrick, Alan, Aldaerron, to name a few.
D – Damn, forgot to post this mind-hump on time.
Okay, now that we're all warmed up let's move on to a little Mind Humping fun with "I say ___, you think ___." In response to the following list of words enter the first words, phrase, idea or thought that comes into your ever humpin' mind. Ready? Put on your humping caps.
01. bright: Bright Lights by Matchbox Twenty, one of my top-ten favorite pop songs ever. When all your love is gone, who will save me from all I’m up against out in this world…02. twister: Tornadoes decimating downtown L.A. in Day After Tommorrow. The special effects were impressive, but paled in comparison to the flooding of Manhattant.
03. marshmallow: Smores. Yummy.
04. bud: Weis. Errrr. Seriously, though, I thought of some guy named Bud, whose last name I can’t remember. He gave me a certificate and a balloon the other day to celebrate the fact that the customers who call in to my place of employment don’t hate me as much as they do some of the other employees. I think that’s a good thing.
05. master: Master and Commander, a movie I have been wanting to watch since it came out in theatres, and never quite got around to seeing.
06. blink: I seriously need to pick up some eyedrops.
07. sauve: Rico Suave, that cheesy 80s song. I wish I could be more worldly and think of somewhere exotic like Puerto Rico, but no, I have that stupid ah-lei, ah-lei ah-lei, rrrriccco in my head now.
08. bikini: Bikini Bottom, home of Spongebob Squarepants, who has to be one of the worst cartoon characters in history.
09. dash: Ashleigh “call me Dash” Dashal, the name of my alter-ego.
10. elementary: Sherlock Holmes and his famous words, “Elemantary, my dear Watson.”
Filed under:
(3) Embraced the madness. // Insanity Isn't Temporary
Mood: 
Gearing up for a vacation, even though I'm not going anywhere.
Now Playing: Previewing the lastest tracks from Bond on Amazon.com.
Swear Words Spoken: 6
My “necessary evil” chapter refuses to be silenced. It’s amazing how a few words can make one sound more productive than one has been. I suppose at this point, a post should be expected on how this little chapter that’s kicked my ass for almost an entire year now has spiraled out of control and into a miniature monstrosity amid a novel that may or may not get completed by the end of the year.
The truth of the matter is that my chapter has increased by a length of five pages from where it was this time in August. I’m at a measly seven pages total, most of it dialogue--stupid, male dialogue. No shootouts, no profound dramatic moments, not a lot of anything remotely profound coming from the keyboard of a laptop which has penned 13,000 word chapters on this same novel. I haven’t even broke 3,000 on the amazing, flowing chapter, yet I am apparently writing an entry in celebration.
I haven’t really been productive this week, not really. The office shoved me on dayshift for the past two weeks, otherwise I’d probably have the thing complete by now. I have also developed a particularly obnoxious habit of starting at my computer screen and waiting for something interesting to happen. For the cool folks on the tagboard (you know who you are) to spring to life with some fascinating topic of conversation I can engage in. For an old friend to pop up on messenger with a fantastic story. For the mother of all internet distractions, Ebay, to post some completely out-there Something that I must possess. I keep meaning to sit down and type this chapter. I sit down, I go through all the hassle of installing Office on a new computer, I open up my piddly seven-page chapter.
And I stare. Yet somehow, I feel productive. I'm hoping it's not due solely to the creative impotence I've suffered for too long. Part of the reason I consciously put this book on hiatus after unconsciously stopping work was to get Alec out of the habit of being a passenger in his own life's story. He's still in the habit, unfortunately. I think I may have put him into shock. Given all he's handled in the previous twenty-one chapters of this novel, the prospects for that having happened are rather high. Instead of an active narrator, he's gradually transformed into a recorder of events. A camera, instead of the person in front of it. I sit at my desk and stare at my screen and try to think of ways to overcome this problem and return the dynamic of his thought process to the novel.
Then I go surf a few sites, think about how bored I am, and go back to staring at my half-completed document, feeling lessened, unaccomplished, determined to type out a few words and be done with this evil, time-consuming, worthless chapter once and for all.
Which explains why I’m writing (and more than likely going on to post) this entry, typing its contents at a rapid pace just below the dangling, incomplete paragraphs of my novel. I should go back to work. I shall post this entry and go back to work.
In the words of the immortal George Strait, “and if you’ll buy that, I’ll throw the Golden Gate in free."
Filed under:
(1) Embraced the madness. // Insanity Isn't Temporary
Mood: 
Frustrated as hell
Now Reading: Obsidian Butterfly by Laurell K. Hamilton
Swear Words Spoken Today: 0. Thought: A hell of a lot more.
Quote of the Week:
“I am a galley slave to pen and ink. “
~Honore de Balzac
The Mambo This Week is "THIS IS YOUR LIFE" (in music)
I'm going to post a few questions and you get to tell us which songs most suit that part of your life or event in your life. 1. Song By The First Band You Liked: The first band I can ever truly remember loving is country group Alabama. The first song I can remember listening to is “Roll On (Eighteen Wheeler). To this day, I still love that song. 2. The Song That Makes You Think Of Your Best Friend: “A Rose is a Rose” by Poe makes me think of Tara every time. The gist of a song is a woman walking into a room with such good looks and charisma that all of literature’s most famous minds are competing for a moment of her affection. Tara has that kind of style and energy. 3. A Song By The First Band You Saw In Concert: I am a country concert addict, and the first show I ever saw was by Brooks & Dunn, shortly after the release of their second album. Every time I think of Brooks & Dunn, I think of “Brand New Man.” It’s not my favorite song by them, not by a long shot, but it is one of the quintessential Brooks & Dunn songs. 4. A Song That Reminds You Of College/School: Hmmm…the quintessential college song. That’s a hard one, especially since I went to college during the dawning of Britney and N’SYNC mania and am determined not to think of them. So I shall say Hollywood Nights by Bob Seger, because I took many a good many a good road trip to the tune of that song.
Filed under:
(2) Embraced the madness. // Insanity Isn't Temporary
Fierce.Now Playing: Yeah, Yeah, Yeah by Uncle Kracker
Now Reading: Blue Moon by Laurell K. Hamilton (almost done)
Now Writing: Out of Nowhere (about damned time)
Swear Words Spoken Today: 2
I think a little while ago, I may have said something to the extent of Eureeka, I finally figured out what my problem was with being stalled on Out of Nowhere for so long. I lied. I had no idea what I was doing or why on earth I’ve been trying to write the same chapter for close to a year now. I’ve thus far taken solace in the fact that at least I’m not a published author and have publishers breathing down my neck about deadlines. Sometimes, being anonymous is a good thing. Leaves more time for thinking and less to contemplate the dynamics involved in getting a laptop to fly if it is hurled out of a bedroom window in disgust.
This time though, thanks to a lunchtime conversation with Helene and, a few days later, a few too many gas fumes during yard work, I think I’ve worked out most of my issues surrounding this novel. Hell helped my to realize that I have an almost paralyzing fear of completion, a fear of submitting this work that I have poured so much of my heart, soul, pain and passion into and having it be rejected, turned down, deemed inadequate for mass market consumption. I’m scared of being finished with it, of knowing that I’ve created something wonderful yet somehow not good enough. It’s much safer to stall on some mediocre yet necessary evil of a chapter and whine and cry about losing my muse, or about the characters not wanting to cooperate with a particular direction.
I’ve had Alec in my head for ten years now. A decade. That’s longer than most marriages work. There’s a part of my who believes that the relationship I’ve formed with this character are far more complex than any I’ll ever have in real life. It is an interesting thing, to have an argument with the voice in your head, that you created, and lose miserably. He’s a different personality from me, and while we have a few emotional defects in common, there’s a world of difference between us. He keeps me honest, more often than not, and I try to keep him from doing immensely stupid things in the name of preserving a plot. More than a few people I know say I talk about Alec like he’s a completely separate and real entity. After living with someone inside your head for a decade, they are. Whether you invented them or not, they inevitably develop their own personalities and desires, that often conflict with your own (the author’s) intent for them as a character.
The chapter that’s kicked my ass since July of last year (no kidding) is a fairly simple set-up. After being shot, almost blown up, involved in a car wreck and shot a few more times, Alec finally gets a day off to kick back at a bar with a few friends and some strippers. He needed a vacation. I was more than willing to grant him a few hours happiness before throwing him back into the plot. I figured, wrongly, that this chapter would be the fastest I’ve ever written. Men being men, drunken, immature men who needed to get laid and, for the largest part succeed in doing so. So Alec went to the bar, sat down with a drink, propped his feet up and refused to move. At first, I thought it was because, being a man and human nature being what it was, he was enjoying his new change of pace entirely too much.
After a year or arguing without ever finding the source of the problem, much less a resolution, I have decided we’re both to blame. Me for being creatively terrified to propel this book one step closer to closure, Alec for being a stubborn jackass and not telling me I was setting him up with the wrong woman.
I’m sitting here, putting the finishing touches on this update, with a fantastic argument between Alec and one of the women in his life brewing in the back of my head. I think I’ll go write it now, before I decide to stifle myself.
Filed under:
(2) Embraced the madness. // Insanity Isn't Temporary