Happy Turkey Day!

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. Mostly because it hasn't been Hallmarked to death. It's just a nice day off with the family. And lots, and lots, and lots of food. Somehow, even though I have lived through 22 Thanksgivings, I still manage to stuff myself to the point of sickness. The intense desire to vomit hits spontaneously, I will be in the middle of finishing off my potatoes and WHAM I'll get smacked with nausea.

I wish the feeling would build gradually so I could have some warning that my stomach was approaching full capacity, but noo. I am just not that lucky.

I am also really bad about the whole "thankful" aspect of the holiday. There is delicious food sitting less than a foot away, why would I waste time talking about what I am thankful for when I could better spend that time cramming food down my face?

On a completely unrelated note. I want to smack myself. My sister has an Amazon Prime account, which allows up to four people to use the same account. Well, thanks to her, I have an Amazon Prime account now. Not that it does me any freaking good. Amazon Prime is only good because it comes with "free" two-day shipping. They do not do weekend deliveries, so when I order stuff on Thursday night I don't get it until Monday.

Tuesday I ordered some stuff, completely forgetting that Thursday was considered a holiday.

Now I wont be able to see what happens in the second season of Whitecollar until Monday. (I have a wedding I am going to this weekend. I leave tomorrow morning around four a.m.)

You are allowed to feel sorry for the ungodly hour I am waking up to get to my best friends wedding. Pitying is allowed, so are presents.

Why I hate ordering online

I caved and bought the entirety of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I was rather excited because it got here today. Seasons 5, 6 and 7 had shattered cases. I am pissed. Mostly because I ordered off of Amazon and that means I am going to have to package up the stupid set and send it back. I really do hate doing that. It makes me angry.

On a rather funny and extremely wrong note, I have just recently found out that POW/MIA stands for Prisoners of War and Missing in Action. Yes. I cannot believe that it has taken me this long to realize that. What's worse is that I used to think the flag was for an African American rights activist group. True story. I am sure you would like to know how on earth I came to that conclusion.

I have a friend who is an activist. She bounces from one group to another trying to make the world a better place. She is pretty freaking awesome. Well she had a POW/MIA flag on her wall and she told me it was in support of her black friend. I had no idea at the time that her friend was in the military, I do not think he was ever MIA and I know he wasn't a POW, but she wanted to support her friends in the military.

Well, idiot that I am, I assumed it was just another activist group she was apart of. It was a little odd because she didn't give me the activist speech which normally came along with announcements for the latest, greatest cause for human rights.

And that is why I thought the POW/MIA flag was the symbol for African American rights. Sad really.

I felt like a complete idiot when I put the pieces together. Unfortunately it took me a few years. May all the people who are in the military, who have served in the military and who are related to people in the military forgive me for being a complete moron.

Never forgotten; but occasionally confused.

Gravitational surges

I do not fall, trip or stumble. Ever. I have a gene that is directly connect to the earth and occasionally (or not so occasionally) I experience a gravitational surge. This happens when gravity decides to grab me and pull down. And I fall down with it, or trip or stumble. It's never because I got the clumsy gene. Nope.

Also, in very exciting news. I found my box of shoes! Yay!

Now, this is not all my shoes, these are just the shoes I thought I could live without for a few months. I packed away all my loverly boots because it was summer and I was moving and it seemed a waste of space to unpack all my boots when I couldn't even wear them. But then I miss placed the box. It was horribly tragic.

And now my sisters cat is trying to eat them. I think I might find myself a loverly pair of cat skin boots. Kidding. Mostly, if he doesn't get away from my precious boots that might just become a reality. Stupid kitty.

It was a rather magically box. Not only had I packed my most prized shoes (the cutest pair of ankle boots ever. Ever!) but it also had my mini sewing machine and a box of dark brown hair dye. Which is really good because my friends wedding is coming up and my natural hair color is growing at the roots and making me look like a messed up piece of candy corn.

I also found my strappy 70s wedge sandals. They are super cute, super tall so I never wear them. Mostly my heels just sit in my closet and I put them on, walk around the house, decide I don't want a sprained ankle and I put them back. A rather sad existence for them, but just seeing them in the closet makes me feel better.

P.S. I want these shoes.

I found them here.

Burn the land and boil the sea, you can't take the sky from me

I have been watching Firefly, or at least re-watching the first few episodes. I've seen most of the series before, but I haven't ever actually finished it.

I am the worst Joss Whedon fan ever. Ever. I have only seen the first season of "Buffy" and I am told it is the worst season. I have never seen an episode of "Angel". I have never seen Dr. Horrible, I didn't even know he was connected to that until recently. I own "Firefly" but haven't finished it, I have seen "Serenity" but I refuse to buy that on the principle of favorite character death. Joss, some days I really hate you. I own the first season of "dollhouse" but haven't seen the last episode, there are only two seasons and I have watched all but the very last episode. Fail. Basically I am the worst fan ever.

I also have this really weird thing where most of my favorite actors/actresses have at some point worked on a Joss Whedon show.

Nathan Fillion

David Boreanaz

Eliza Dushku

Alan Tudyk

Alyson Hannigan

Mark Sheppard

And Fail.

I had this grand blog post planned. I forgot what I was going to write about. I got caught up in checking facebook, which is a joke. If I go longer than three days without checking facebook I am pilled in comments and such stuff. I have come to the point where I realize the futility of even attempting to keep up with other peoples lives. I get burried just trying to keep up with my own profile, and blog, and google+, and nano, and gmail. And other peoples blogs.

It's ridiculous. I am declaring it impossible to keep up with the newest things on the internet.

That being said, please keep reading my blog, because it is awesome and so much cooler than everything else out there. Not really, but I do think it is rather amusing, in a "ouch, her life sucks" kind of way.

It seems like I have gotten to the point in my online life that I am to lazy to look at the things that I used to use as procrastination tools. I am now to lazy to procrastinate, it takes to much time, let's just decide not to do anything. Because that has been working soooo well lately.

Seriously, I have gotten nothing done.

Mmm. Not true. I did find a bridesmaid dress, which it's a really good thing I did because the wedding is next week. I am attempting to shorten the dress, because all the other bridesmaids have short dresses and mine is full length. But it's not going so well. Which is why it's important to understand that that pinning comes before cutting, you don't cut the fabric until it's in the area you want. At least in the right order. Or something like that.

Here is what I am attempting... sort of. But with no bow.

It took me several hours to find my dress, which I still need to take a picture of. But I do not like the length, hence me shortening it. But I have epically failed at the whole thing. However, I have not been beaten. I will make the stupid dress do exactly what I want it to do. And it won't have a huge but bow. I hate but bows.

It is finished!

I finished the blanket of death. I put my camera someplace really safe, so as soon as I find it again I will put up pictures. It only took me a year to finish the stupid thing. And way more yarn than I ever want to see again. The blanket fits nicely on my twin bed when it's folded in half... it's huge. I think the stupid blanket is actually bigger than my floor space. Not that my bedroom is very big, but still.

Another thousand words? Why?

Why write 50,000 words in one month. Why write anything at all. Why do I even get up in the morning.

It seems to me that all three of those questions are linked. What is the point in living if I am not going to change someones life. What is the point in getting out of bed if I am not going to make the world a better place. What is the point in being if I don't cause joy.

This world isn't an easy place to live. My friends aren't superficial, they have problems. I have problems. Times feel like I am sitting on a stationary bike, trying desperately to get some where, but all I am doing is tiring myself out. So why try. Why do anything.

Not an easy question to answer. If I push to hard into the depths of human emotion I always find myself coming up short. There is no easy answer, if there is an answer at all. Life is what I make it. Life is what I strive for. I can either continue to live as robot, repeating the same monotonous motions. Or I can throw myself into the world and live. Not just survive. But truly live. To let emotions take me on the crazy ride, to never stifle my instincts. To laugh with joy and the simple things. Take a step back and really find the important things. To find my priorities so I never lose them.

And that is why I write. Because when my fingers are flying across the keyboard (occasionally standing still) in that moment I am living. I am sending crazed monkey pirates after my main character and maybe she escapes, maybe she doesn't. But in that moment I let down all my walls. Writing is an avenue to expression everything. A way to show what I find myself unable to explain. Concrete evidence that I am a living, breathing person. Not just another robot in a cage.

Writing is my way of screaming to the world.

"I am alive, here is the proof. And you cannot stop me!"

It's my small, almost unnoticeable, way of staking a claim in the future. Of creating a better tomorrow. A tomorrow that is a little closer, a little better. A new place.

I've finally figured it out... sort of

I think I have discovered the art behind National Novel Writing Month. Instead of doing any planning (which did not happen this year) I am just going to let the words flow. And if that means by December I realize I have to cut out half of them, well then, that's okay. Because I would not have the other half if I didn't write them all. Instead of attempting to write up character sketches and background stories, I am going to make it up along the way. Decide I want to jump from fantasy to scifi. Great!

Actually I kind of just did that. It's going to be a spectacularly story.

I have realized, in the last three days, that I kill stories with over planning. I want sooo badly to be one those authors that has sub plots in book one that turn into the main plot of book three. An author that carries the story all the way through the entire series without it feeling like disparate. I want the entire series to feel whole, like nothing is lacking. And it seems to me that the authors would really have to plot the ever loving stuffing out of the story to do that. Which is why I always attempted to do that.

But I've written more and it's been easier when I just write without really having a course. It's like starting out a drive without any idea of where I am going, or how much gas I have, or without any idea if I even have money. It's a little terrifying, but it's so exhilarating. I almost feel as if I am flying. The smooth transition between scenes, the dialogue that flows like real conversations, the tragic things that are about to happen to my MC.

Okay, so that last part kind of sucks.

But I've decided if I feel like something is interesting I am just going to add it in and pray it works.

The chaos has begun

I probably will not be posting stuff that often for the next month. If I get anything posted at all. One of my friends is getting married and I might post some pictures, but probably not even that. I will, however, be back to posting regularly in December ... hopefully.