A few more days to go.


As I previously stated I have signed up to participate in the NaNoWriMo in November. This nifty website will hopefully be the challenge I need to get back into writing. I’m starting a very loose outline, creating character names and sketches. Good lord writing is so much more research than people realize. I feel as if I can’t write about certain things unless I have all the information possible about the subject. Maybe I should work on a fantasy novel…But then you have to create your own world from scratch.

I’m gearing up, but this will be a new experience for me. The website said to accomplish the goal of 50,00 words I need to write 1,700 words  a day. When i was a fan-fiction writing machine that was no problem. There were Yerba Mate filled sessions that cranked out nearly 5,000, no sweat. but that was pre-Jackson. Now the mere idea of opening my laptop exhausts me. But I love writing. So what’s a girl to do? I think i need to be more disciplined this time and hope that I will be successful in finishing something I can truly call my own.



Words are my Religion


I started this blog originally (on blogger) to be a Twilight blog. I thought that I would end up like UC and Moon from LTT. It turns out the kind of dedication it takes to keep up a blog like that is far more than I am capable of. So i began to write about other things. Still no one really read it. Which is fine. I suppose I can look at this endeavor as a diary. Isn’t that what it should be, anyway? A place to channel our angst and bliss? I know I have spent many hours pouring over posts about infertility, at times a place like this has saved me.

I am an aspiring writer. It wasn’t until I was 15 that a snaggled toothed boyfriend (on our one week anniversary, no less) told me that most people who write will never be famous for it. I had never before considered that i would not be a success. After all writing is my balm, words are my salvation whether it is writing or reading. I can’t count the times I was feeling low and the only thing that helped was a good book. More then God, I believe in the power of the written word. It has been a while since I have written anything. I haven’t updated my fan-fiction in almost a year. But I have it inside of me. Maybe I am inspired by my friend Missy and her honest post about the story inside her. Maybe soon I’ll start back up again.

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."

Act like you’re good at it


Copernicus cooling off in the Northwest heat wave

Tonight did not disappoint. A reading filled with win that only references of Wil Wheaton, Pegasuses (pegasi?), Six hour marathons of the Tenth Doctor, and Neil Gaiman could accomplish. After two lorazepams, an hour waiting in line after a tearful (on my part) story,  I finally got to meet my idol Jennifer Lawson.

I bumbled my way through introductions and made a half way coherent attempt at a sentence. (To be recreated later.)

Best part, I got to hug her. I have been hugged by The Bloggess. Or strangled, because as we all know, A HUG IS LIKE A STRANGLE YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED YET!

I’m probably not as cuddly as Copernicus

One of the scariest and most exhilarating moments I’ve ever had.

There have been several times that I have wanted to get out there and meet these people who have inspired me. So many should have’s, tucked away to haunt me. But not this time. I got my signature and I got my hug and for one moment I got the attention of a person I hope to be like.

I couldn’t contain my excitement upon meeting her!

Rien ne sert d’être vivant s’il faut qu’on travaille*


This post is brought to you by Edith Piaf. 


 I have these fleeting ideas that someday I’m just going to pack up all my things and become some traveling vagabond. There is a romanticism to the idea of having nothing but the clothes on your back and making your way around the world. I have these dreams of traveling to far away places like Budapest and Fiji. I would learn just enough of the language to get me by, before moving on to the next place in the world.     

I’d love to just live in France for a year, sit at a cafe and drink tiny cups of coffee and bottle upon bottle of wine with little slivers of yummy cheese a top fresh baguette.  I’d listen to Edith Piaf as I’d sauntered down the roads yelling “bonjour!” like Belle in Beauty in the Beast and cracking jokes about “À boire ou je tue le chien!**” Or at least that’s what I imagine it would be like.        

Ole! Oh, crap.


 As I child I desperately wished that I was born in the early 50’s so that I could have been a flower child, going to Woodstock and really giving a damn about the world around me.   Of course that is all speculation, I have no way of knowing who or where I would have been doing (That came out so wrong, but I’ll just leave it in.) had I been born to a different generation.    

 But, there doesn’t seem to be any room for being impractical in this day and age. I had these ideas when I was younger and now I have found myself, an adult working a nine to five job and counting down the hours until the weekend. I desperately want that part of me that seeks the adventure and thrill of the world, back. I don’t think I’m too old to still have it, is any one ever too old?        

The truth is as nice as I would be to just leave behind all these material things and becoming some sort of hobo, I am much to dependent on things like my Nordstroms card and 3G service. So all I can do now, is spend my days finding pleasure in the little things in life.    

The way my husband cut up my steak for me when I get sick or the way a single calla lily blooms next to my doorstep every spring. The sound of my dog’s tail against the hard wood floor and the scent of Dove body wash on my skin as I drift off to sleep. I may never make it to the ends of the earth tomorrow, but I suppose it’s not that bad here.    

*”Being alive serves no purpose if you have to work” from Nadja, by Andre Breton    

 **Bring me something to drink or I kill the dog! Both translation are from random website I stumbled upon. I am probably butchering the language.  I never said I spoke French, just that I wanted to live there.    

As a very American person once said, “It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one’s mouth and remove all doubt.”     

Should have listened to you, Mr. Prez., Mon Dieu!