It's been a really weird couple of weeks. Good and bad and everything in between. I've been trying (with a little success) to work on a fantasy novel. I've been working out 5-7 days a week and watching every calorie and I've been rewarded with some weight loss (YAY). I found out that I need to have some non-optional surgery that isn't the kind of surgery that I expected would be my next time under the knife. (It's not life threatening but it needs to be taken care of). And I had to tell one of my very best friends that no - I would not sleep with him while he was married.
So yea. Good and bad.
I'm struggling with the writing some. Not because I don't want to write it. But because for me, it's a new venue and I'm not nearly as confident in my talent as I am with writing erotica.
So why don't I write an erotic novel?
Trust me, I've considered that, and honestly, I'd love to. I just haven't hit upon a story idea yet that lends itself to longer than a short story.
I have the opposite problem with fantasy. Every idea I get there is a novel, not a short story.
Nothing honestly would make me happier than to combine the two styles into one. And I have seriously considered that. But again, I haven't quite hit on a story idea that works for a longer piece. Or a shorter piece.
In erotica, character development is limited. In fantasy, it's mandatory. I think mainly that's where my struggle is. But I'm trying work through it.
I also signed up at Become An Ex, and am really trying to work my way through the programs and the questions. I'm doing so well with the diet and exercise that yes - I am afraid to upset the apple cart so to speak. But it's on my mind.
I don't have any plans for the weekend. That's on purpose. I want to try and get all of my chores done on Friday so that I can concentrate on writing at least 6 hours a day on the rest of the weekend. We'll see how that goes.
I have a couple topics I want to write on this week. I'm really going to have to focus a little on something other than my calories and the exercise bike.
We'll see how I do *grin
Monday, June 30, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Curing Writer's Block: Part One
I bought a little book on writer's block recently - something I experience far too frequently for my taste. One of the exercises in the book was to pick a bad habit and write about why I do it. The goal is to write honestly and clearly about something we do that we know we shouldn't do, but that we do anyway.
My bad habit was easy to choose, and one that several times in the last two years I've said I was going to get rid of, but still have managed to hang onto for reason I'm not entirely clear on.
Smoking.
I started smoking when I was 16. Of the four girls I hung out with, 3 of them smoked. Only one held out, and I wish that'd been me, but it wasn't. At the time, I wasn't really much of a 'bad girl' (as far as anyone knew anyway), and it was my little rebellion.
When I was very little, in the late 60's, all of the anti-smoking stuff really started to come out on TV. I remember my mom coaching my sister and I on how to tell my Dad we wanted him to quit smoking.
And he did.
Boy, was he unhappy with me when he caught me some 13 years later. He still is, but it's my Mom that's really bad about it.
I did quit once. For three weeks. For my first husband's birthday. I got the patch (it was prescription then and damn expensive). Apparently though, I was a complete and utter bitch for three weeks (who, me? /blink) and one evening, he'd had enough and went to the corner store and brought back a pack of Marlboros and threw them at me.
I did not quit then for the right reasons and I know that now. Had I done it for me instead of someone else, I probably would have gotten through that bitchy stage easier.
As for why I still do it, I still don't know. Is it a security blanket of some sort? My last vestige of 'The Jill I Used To Be'? I've gone long periods of time without smoking before - so while I realize there is a nicotine addiction present, I don't think that'll be the worst of it for me. I think it's the habit part. The part where my brain says "you can have a cigarette now" as if it's a treat or something.
I have cut down - WAY down from what I smoked even 2 years ago. I have good days and bad days. But it's still there, ever present, calling to me first thing in the morning, right after I eat and idly lurking while I sit at the computer downstairs.
I make excuses (and at the end of it, that's what they are - excuses - tho I present them as valid reasons) why today is not the right reason to toss them out.
The patch will help with the cravings. But it's the habit I need to make shut up first.
I'll keep working on that.
Anyone with motivation ideas should email them to me. But don't use the pictures and health motivations. Those never work. *chuckle They have been tried many times before.
My bad habit was easy to choose, and one that several times in the last two years I've said I was going to get rid of, but still have managed to hang onto for reason I'm not entirely clear on.
Smoking.
I started smoking when I was 16. Of the four girls I hung out with, 3 of them smoked. Only one held out, and I wish that'd been me, but it wasn't. At the time, I wasn't really much of a 'bad girl' (as far as anyone knew anyway), and it was my little rebellion.
When I was very little, in the late 60's, all of the anti-smoking stuff really started to come out on TV. I remember my mom coaching my sister and I on how to tell my Dad we wanted him to quit smoking.
And he did.
Boy, was he unhappy with me when he caught me some 13 years later. He still is, but it's my Mom that's really bad about it.
I did quit once. For three weeks. For my first husband's birthday. I got the patch (it was prescription then and damn expensive). Apparently though, I was a complete and utter bitch for three weeks (who, me? /blink) and one evening, he'd had enough and went to the corner store and brought back a pack of Marlboros and threw them at me.
I did not quit then for the right reasons and I know that now. Had I done it for me instead of someone else, I probably would have gotten through that bitchy stage easier.
As for why I still do it, I still don't know. Is it a security blanket of some sort? My last vestige of 'The Jill I Used To Be'? I've gone long periods of time without smoking before - so while I realize there is a nicotine addiction present, I don't think that'll be the worst of it for me. I think it's the habit part. The part where my brain says "you can have a cigarette now" as if it's a treat or something.
I have cut down - WAY down from what I smoked even 2 years ago. I have good days and bad days. But it's still there, ever present, calling to me first thing in the morning, right after I eat and idly lurking while I sit at the computer downstairs.
I make excuses (and at the end of it, that's what they are - excuses - tho I present them as valid reasons) why today is not the right reason to toss them out.
The patch will help with the cravings. But it's the habit I need to make shut up first.
I'll keep working on that.
Anyone with motivation ideas should email them to me. But don't use the pictures and health motivations. Those never work. *chuckle They have been tried many times before.
Some decisions should be stuck to
I remembered Sunday morning why I put my scale away in the first place.
After a good first 10 days on the new exercise/eating plan, my plan went afoul during the "Flood of Jill's Living Room" and I wasn't able to work out at all last week, but I accounted for that in my daily calorie intake, and at the end of the week, I was still about 6500~ calories under my weekly BMR total. So I should have lost at least a pound, maybe 1.5.
The scale read exactly the same as it did last Monday.
And this, my friends, is why scales SUCK.
Even without working out, the calorie cut would have meant weight loss. But the scale is fickle and doesn't understand anything beyond it's own little digital hell.
I'm not letting it stop me, or push me any further into a calorie deficiet. I've learned over the last three years that moderation is the key to losing weight and not fucking up my knees (by pushing too hard on the bike). I did get to ride last night, and I ate lunch (breakfast, of course) at Country Kitchen with my folks yesterday for Father's Day, so maybe that'll kick the scale in the ass before I toss it out into the garage just to watch is shatter.
But I won't find out til next Sunday.
I am not letting that piece of electronic equipment take over my life again. Yes, I have a goal and yes, I want to hit it, but the scale is not the friend of someone who's gotten this close to being at an 'ideal weight' after having been overweight my entire life.
So it's been relegated back to it's corner until next weekend. And the bike is once again ready to be ridden daily.
I'm a little disappointed of course, but not as devestated as I'd have been (and was on many occasions) last year. I think my attitude and approach are healthier this time.
At least I hope they are.
No, I know they are.
After a good first 10 days on the new exercise/eating plan, my plan went afoul during the "Flood of Jill's Living Room" and I wasn't able to work out at all last week, but I accounted for that in my daily calorie intake, and at the end of the week, I was still about 6500~ calories under my weekly BMR total. So I should have lost at least a pound, maybe 1.5.
The scale read exactly the same as it did last Monday.
And this, my friends, is why scales SUCK.
Even without working out, the calorie cut would have meant weight loss. But the scale is fickle and doesn't understand anything beyond it's own little digital hell.
I'm not letting it stop me, or push me any further into a calorie deficiet. I've learned over the last three years that moderation is the key to losing weight and not fucking up my knees (by pushing too hard on the bike). I did get to ride last night, and I ate lunch (breakfast, of course) at Country Kitchen with my folks yesterday for Father's Day, so maybe that'll kick the scale in the ass before I toss it out into the garage just to watch is shatter.
But I won't find out til next Sunday.
I am not letting that piece of electronic equipment take over my life again. Yes, I have a goal and yes, I want to hit it, but the scale is not the friend of someone who's gotten this close to being at an 'ideal weight' after having been overweight my entire life.
So it's been relegated back to it's corner until next weekend. And the bike is once again ready to be ridden daily.
I'm a little disappointed of course, but not as devestated as I'd have been (and was on many occasions) last year. I think my attitude and approach are healthier this time.
At least I hope they are.
No, I know they are.
Friday, June 13, 2008
And on the subject of fantasies ....
I’ve written ad naseum about my love of lingerie, right? Everyone who’s read more than a couple of posts here knows that. Over the last couple of years, as I’ve grown into, and become more comfortable in, this new body I have I’ve spent more money on lingerie than I ever have in my life and I have loved almost every piece of it that I’ve bought.
But that isn’t all there is to a sexy wardrobe built for sex is it?
While you’re thinking about your fantasies, what are you wearing in them? Besides lingerie or high heels, what else is in your fantasy wardrobe?
Short skirts? Maybe denim ones, for hooker-wear or pleated plaid ones for the school girl look? Knee high boots? Thigh high boots? A nurse’s hat? Teacher’s glasses? A man’s suit? Tight jeans and a shirt cut so low it would be illegal street wear?
Lingerie is awesome. But there are other articles of clothing that can bring out the animal in your partner just as much as a babydoll and a thong.
What’s the sexiest thing you can wear for your partner? Have you asked him or her? Or do you just assume he likes all that black lace and the g-string? Maybe if you haven’t asked, you should. Maybe he has a nurse fantasy. Maybe he would prefer to see you in something short and white and innocent once in awhile. Maybe he’d really love it if you dressed in ‘street’ clothes like a complete and total slut and drug him away from the news and up the stairs to show him how well those clothes suit you in that moment …..
Almost any piece of clothing you buy can have sex appeal if worn correctly (or incorrectly in some cases….). Look at things you own differently. Look at them and ask “Would I fuck me in that?”
No, really. Do it. It’s fun *grin
But that isn’t all there is to a sexy wardrobe built for sex is it?
While you’re thinking about your fantasies, what are you wearing in them? Besides lingerie or high heels, what else is in your fantasy wardrobe?
Short skirts? Maybe denim ones, for hooker-wear or pleated plaid ones for the school girl look? Knee high boots? Thigh high boots? A nurse’s hat? Teacher’s glasses? A man’s suit? Tight jeans and a shirt cut so low it would be illegal street wear?
Lingerie is awesome. But there are other articles of clothing that can bring out the animal in your partner just as much as a babydoll and a thong.
What’s the sexiest thing you can wear for your partner? Have you asked him or her? Or do you just assume he likes all that black lace and the g-string? Maybe if you haven’t asked, you should. Maybe he has a nurse fantasy. Maybe he would prefer to see you in something short and white and innocent once in awhile. Maybe he’d really love it if you dressed in ‘street’ clothes like a complete and total slut and drug him away from the news and up the stairs to show him how well those clothes suit you in that moment …..
Almost any piece of clothing you buy can have sex appeal if worn correctly (or incorrectly in some cases….). Look at things you own differently. Look at them and ask “Would I fuck me in that?”
No, really. Do it. It’s fun *grin
Fantasies and Goals
In my early 20’s, I started reading Nancy Friday books. I think the first one I read was Women on Top. I remember at the time that there weren’t a lot of books like this. You could find an occasional erotic novel in Waldenbooks (which is pretty much what we had then), but stuff like this was pretty rare.
Anyway, I’m thinking that that’s what started me off on this path, or at least it gave me a swift kick in the ass toward this lifelong obsession with sexuality.
I was thinking about Nancy Friday books the other night and I’m thinking I’m probably going to repurchase some of them (it’s unfortunate, but if I kept every book I ever bought I’d be sitting and sleeping on them).
But it brought to mind fantasies. Everyone has them. Some people like me have write about them. Some people keep them locked inside and never reveal them. Some people will reveal them only when they feel 100% comfortable in a monogamous relationship, and even then, they will quiver in fear. People feel good about them, people feel bad about them, people base their entire lives on trying to bring every one they ever have, come to life.
The latter to me, says that it’s not a fantasy though.
There is a very big difference between a fantasy and a goal. And people who carry around these fantasies – waiting for the opportunity to present itself to have a threesome, get a spanking, have anal sex – are working toward a goal, not reveling in a healthy fantasy life.
Fantasies are just that. Fantasies. Sometimes, they do come true. Sometimes, you get very lucky – or unlucky in some cases – and get to carry them out, explore them fully.
And sometimes, you don’t.
Sometimes, you fantasize about things that you’d never even want to do out of your mind. They’re dangerous or they’re scary or they’re just plain unrealistic.
But they do serve a purpose, don’t they? They make wonderful masturbatory material and they can keep you from drifting off in a boring business meeting. You can fantasize about things that you’d never share with another soul or you can fantasize about things that you’d share with even a casual lover during pillow talk.
You can take a very elaborate fantasy – say for instance – a huge bondage fantasy complete with a leather masked master wielding a dangerous looking single tail whip – and carry it partially out with a trusted lover wearing a pair of tight jeans and wielding a wooden spoon.
Fantasies change and grow and expand and contract and…. Well if they didn’t change, wouldn’t they get boring after the first few hundred times?
I mentioned briefly that there’s a difference between a fantasy and a goal. If you can say “I want to sleep with my partner and another girl before I die.” , that leaps out of the fantasy realm and into the goal realm. There’s nothing wrong with sexual goals. Sexual goals are fun *grin. But when you begin to feel as if something that was first a fantasy for you needs to happen or you will not feel fulfilled, it leaps from fantasy land into goal land. And that’s just something we need to accept and work with.
I hold my fantasies very dearly. My fantasies are what inspire a great deal of my erotica. My fantasies change a lot, slight variations to completely brand new ones. I’m happy about that because it keeps my imagination oiled and working.
Being able to tell the difference between what’s realistic and what’s not so realistic is what separates sane from the insane. I’m sure that you’ve done that already (because no one crazy reads blogs, right?) . Stop and think about a few of yours. Are they things you really want to do? Are they things you’d share with someone you trust? Are they something that you really actually want to accomplish?
There are very few fantasies you should ever feel ashamed of. I can only think of fantasies involving insentient beings, or things that would land you in the hospital or prison that would be considered unhealthy. Anything else? Let your imagination go wild. Don’t stop yourself just because you don’t think you’ll ever get to do it. That’s not a good reason to kill a fantasy. A goal, yes. A fantasy, no.
Fantasizing exercises your imagination, your creativity and your sexuality. Providing they aren’t hurting you or anyone else, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with letting your imagination run wild.
Some days, wild is my favorite color *grin. Okay, okay. Most days.
Anyway, I’m thinking that that’s what started me off on this path, or at least it gave me a swift kick in the ass toward this lifelong obsession with sexuality.
I was thinking about Nancy Friday books the other night and I’m thinking I’m probably going to repurchase some of them (it’s unfortunate, but if I kept every book I ever bought I’d be sitting and sleeping on them).
But it brought to mind fantasies. Everyone has them. Some people like me have write about them. Some people keep them locked inside and never reveal them. Some people will reveal them only when they feel 100% comfortable in a monogamous relationship, and even then, they will quiver in fear. People feel good about them, people feel bad about them, people base their entire lives on trying to bring every one they ever have, come to life.
The latter to me, says that it’s not a fantasy though.
There is a very big difference between a fantasy and a goal. And people who carry around these fantasies – waiting for the opportunity to present itself to have a threesome, get a spanking, have anal sex – are working toward a goal, not reveling in a healthy fantasy life.
Fantasies are just that. Fantasies. Sometimes, they do come true. Sometimes, you get very lucky – or unlucky in some cases – and get to carry them out, explore them fully.
And sometimes, you don’t.
Sometimes, you fantasize about things that you’d never even want to do out of your mind. They’re dangerous or they’re scary or they’re just plain unrealistic.
But they do serve a purpose, don’t they? They make wonderful masturbatory material and they can keep you from drifting off in a boring business meeting. You can fantasize about things that you’d never share with another soul or you can fantasize about things that you’d share with even a casual lover during pillow talk.
You can take a very elaborate fantasy – say for instance – a huge bondage fantasy complete with a leather masked master wielding a dangerous looking single tail whip – and carry it partially out with a trusted lover wearing a pair of tight jeans and wielding a wooden spoon.
Fantasies change and grow and expand and contract and…. Well if they didn’t change, wouldn’t they get boring after the first few hundred times?
I mentioned briefly that there’s a difference between a fantasy and a goal. If you can say “I want to sleep with my partner and another girl before I die.” , that leaps out of the fantasy realm and into the goal realm. There’s nothing wrong with sexual goals. Sexual goals are fun *grin. But when you begin to feel as if something that was first a fantasy for you needs to happen or you will not feel fulfilled, it leaps from fantasy land into goal land. And that’s just something we need to accept and work with.
I hold my fantasies very dearly. My fantasies are what inspire a great deal of my erotica. My fantasies change a lot, slight variations to completely brand new ones. I’m happy about that because it keeps my imagination oiled and working.
Being able to tell the difference between what’s realistic and what’s not so realistic is what separates sane from the insane. I’m sure that you’ve done that already (because no one crazy reads blogs, right?) . Stop and think about a few of yours. Are they things you really want to do? Are they things you’d share with someone you trust? Are they something that you really actually want to accomplish?
There are very few fantasies you should ever feel ashamed of. I can only think of fantasies involving insentient beings, or things that would land you in the hospital or prison that would be considered unhealthy. Anything else? Let your imagination go wild. Don’t stop yourself just because you don’t think you’ll ever get to do it. That’s not a good reason to kill a fantasy. A goal, yes. A fantasy, no.
Fantasizing exercises your imagination, your creativity and your sexuality. Providing they aren’t hurting you or anyone else, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with letting your imagination run wild.
Some days, wild is my favorite color *grin. Okay, okay. Most days.
What would you do for peace?
I don't share links very often here.
But this one ... this is priceless. It's also related to one of my favorite subjects... *grin
I am not a huge anti-war protester or anything but this just made me laugh. out. loud.
Hope you get a chuckle, too.
What Will You Do For Peace?
But this one ... this is priceless. It's also related to one of my favorite subjects... *grin
I am not a huge anti-war protester or anything but this just made me laugh. out. loud.
Hope you get a chuckle, too.
What Will You Do For Peace?
Come Together...or don't.
I said last week that I’m a book whore. That’s true, and also a little play on words, because typically with every trip to the bookstore, I end up with a non-fiction book about sex or sexuality, or an erotic novel.
I can’t help it. It’s one of my favorite subjects *grin
There’s an interesting quote in one of the books I got recently, which I’m not going to link because frankly, besides this quote and a few web links, the book is just dumb and offers no new information about anything. It’s regurgitated stuff from other books. Or sounds like it, anyway. So while I won’t promote it, I will use the quote (there, that’ll teach someone to write unoriginally, won’t it? HA)
“Simultaneous orgasms are great, but you do run the risk of ignoring each other. Sometimes, it’s more fun to come one at a time so you can watch.”
I read that a couple times, and then gave it some thought. And it’s true.
I enjoy watching a man that I’m interacting sexually with cum. I like to watch his face, his body, and I like to listen.
That’s pretty difficult to do when I wrapped up in a writing, whimpering mass at the point of my own orgasm.
The author goes on to say that it’s nearly impossible to do, which it’s not. If you’re practiced at controlling and containing your orgasms, if you can –wait- it’s not that difficult to do. But her original statement remains true; it is a lot of fun to watch.
I think somewhere along the line, simultaneous orgasm got romanticized, probably by some married women in the 70’s when women started really having a lot of orgasms, and really only had sex to express love and commitment to their husbands. I can see the reason behind wanting to do it, having felt this way myself. Cumming together, if you’re in a ‘love’ situation, can signify to a woman that they are completely in tune with their partner and linked with them. It can reinforce their feeling that they’re doing the right thing. Totally understandable.
*shrug It doesn’t really mean any of that though and delusions aren’t all that healthy are they?
Sex is supposed to be fun, whether you’re doing it as an expression of love, a way to procreate or just to do it. It’s not fun if you’re concentrating so hard on hurrying up or slowing down so that you can share a 15 second moment with your lover. Does that sound fun to you?
Well, unless you’re doing it to sexually torture and tease someone…then maybe it’s fun …
But I’ll think about that later!
And so will you. Won’t you? *grin
I can’t help it. It’s one of my favorite subjects *grin
There’s an interesting quote in one of the books I got recently, which I’m not going to link because frankly, besides this quote and a few web links, the book is just dumb and offers no new information about anything. It’s regurgitated stuff from other books. Or sounds like it, anyway. So while I won’t promote it, I will use the quote (there, that’ll teach someone to write unoriginally, won’t it? HA)
“Simultaneous orgasms are great, but you do run the risk of ignoring each other. Sometimes, it’s more fun to come one at a time so you can watch.”
I read that a couple times, and then gave it some thought. And it’s true.
I enjoy watching a man that I’m interacting sexually with cum. I like to watch his face, his body, and I like to listen.
That’s pretty difficult to do when I wrapped up in a writing, whimpering mass at the point of my own orgasm.
The author goes on to say that it’s nearly impossible to do, which it’s not. If you’re practiced at controlling and containing your orgasms, if you can –wait- it’s not that difficult to do. But her original statement remains true; it is a lot of fun to watch.
I think somewhere along the line, simultaneous orgasm got romanticized, probably by some married women in the 70’s when women started really having a lot of orgasms, and really only had sex to express love and commitment to their husbands. I can see the reason behind wanting to do it, having felt this way myself. Cumming together, if you’re in a ‘love’ situation, can signify to a woman that they are completely in tune with their partner and linked with them. It can reinforce their feeling that they’re doing the right thing. Totally understandable.
*shrug It doesn’t really mean any of that though and delusions aren’t all that healthy are they?
Sex is supposed to be fun, whether you’re doing it as an expression of love, a way to procreate or just to do it. It’s not fun if you’re concentrating so hard on hurrying up or slowing down so that you can share a 15 second moment with your lover. Does that sound fun to you?
Well, unless you’re doing it to sexually torture and tease someone…then maybe it’s fun …
But I’ll think about that later!
And so will you. Won’t you? *grin
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Disruptions
So, yea.
2 days of record rainfall on Saturday and Sunday do not make me a happy girl.
I was sitting in my recliner Saturday night, enjoying some quiet time and actually working steadily on my plotline and my characters for the fantasy novel I've started to work on. I was very happy with the progress I'd made, and then I stood up to go up to bed.
And my feet got wet.
Apparently, the stairwell that's attached to the door in my downstairs living room does not drain when inch upon inch upon inch of water are dumped into it. So it decided, of it's own volition, to start creeping under my door. It soaked about a quarter of the room. Disgusted, I went and gathered my towels (from when this happened in my office) and a fan, and covered it and started the fan. I was unhappy when I went to bed, but I figured I could fix that one area.
So Sunday, I played some Warcraft and then went to get my hair highlighted and trimmed up. I love the woman who cuts my hair. She makes me look amazing. So I was in a super mood ...
... until I got to my car and started to drive home, into one of the blackest skies I'd ever seen.
I hoped for the best. I got back on my desktop (since I had to move all the furniture around in the living room to dry it up) and played a bit more. Around 9 pm, I got up to go fill up my water glass and ....
Yup. More wet carpet. Creeping through the living room, right into my office.
I was angry then. I made several calls to my landlords over the weekend and left messages, and finally got a call back. They're out of town (of course they are), but will be back Monday and come right over to check it out.
In the meantime, the smell was atrocious. The carpet was soaked. The cats were freaked out. I went to bed still pissed off.
Yesterday, I left work at noon and came home to await the landlords. The wet carpet was gone by 6pm and now the concrete that was under it is STILL drying. So I'm stuck upstairs with the laptop and the small TV and surrounded by all of the stuff from my office and the living room that I could move.
Life, disrupted.
It could have been worse. So I'm thankful it wasn't.
But until I can completely obliterate that smell, I'll be agitated.
I've kept working on plot and characters while I'm stuck up here in Small TV Land and hope the floors downstairs dry soon and I can wrestle the smell outta my house.
Send Febreeze......
2 days of record rainfall on Saturday and Sunday do not make me a happy girl.
I was sitting in my recliner Saturday night, enjoying some quiet time and actually working steadily on my plotline and my characters for the fantasy novel I've started to work on. I was very happy with the progress I'd made, and then I stood up to go up to bed.
And my feet got wet.
Apparently, the stairwell that's attached to the door in my downstairs living room does not drain when inch upon inch upon inch of water are dumped into it. So it decided, of it's own volition, to start creeping under my door. It soaked about a quarter of the room. Disgusted, I went and gathered my towels (from when this happened in my office) and a fan, and covered it and started the fan. I was unhappy when I went to bed, but I figured I could fix that one area.
So Sunday, I played some Warcraft and then went to get my hair highlighted and trimmed up. I love the woman who cuts my hair. She makes me look amazing. So I was in a super mood ...
... until I got to my car and started to drive home, into one of the blackest skies I'd ever seen.
I hoped for the best. I got back on my desktop (since I had to move all the furniture around in the living room to dry it up) and played a bit more. Around 9 pm, I got up to go fill up my water glass and ....
Yup. More wet carpet. Creeping through the living room, right into my office.
I was angry then. I made several calls to my landlords over the weekend and left messages, and finally got a call back. They're out of town (of course they are), but will be back Monday and come right over to check it out.
In the meantime, the smell was atrocious. The carpet was soaked. The cats were freaked out. I went to bed still pissed off.
Yesterday, I left work at noon and came home to await the landlords. The wet carpet was gone by 6pm and now the concrete that was under it is STILL drying. So I'm stuck upstairs with the laptop and the small TV and surrounded by all of the stuff from my office and the living room that I could move.
Life, disrupted.
It could have been worse. So I'm thankful it wasn't.
But until I can completely obliterate that smell, I'll be agitated.
I've kept working on plot and characters while I'm stuck up here in Small TV Land and hope the floors downstairs dry soon and I can wrestle the smell outta my house.
Send Febreeze......
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Catch up
By my own admission, books are my drug of choice, and me walking into a Half-Price Books is akin to a junkie going to a crack house. But walk in I did last week on my lunch hour, and books I did buy.
The stack on my nightstand grows, as does the one on the table beside me. Fiction upstairs, non-fiction downstairs, but the piles grow precarious.
I should be ashamed. But I'm not. I am a book whore.
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I watched Season One of The Tudors this week. I loved it. I can't wait to get Season Two. This is a part of english history that I know very little about, and in amongst the sex and intrigue are some very clear history lessons. The writing is crisp and inviting. The actors carry their parts, and I ended up feeling sorry for villains and disliking heroines. That's what keeps me interested in a series. It makes me change my mind. Even the music is good.
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I began outlining the fantasy novel (well one of them) that's been living in my mind for the last several months. I hope to keep at it, and get my characters set enough soon so that I can actually start writing. Well, providing my current writer's block subsides, that is.
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As I spoke of in my most recent post, I've started watching my calories very closely and exercising daily again. It feels good to take control of that back, and I guess I'm thankful to that stupid scale at the doctors office for smacking me up 'side the head. I'm doing very well, and that makes me happy. Perhas the happiness will break the block as far as writing is concerned as well.
I can hope, can't I?
The stack on my nightstand grows, as does the one on the table beside me. Fiction upstairs, non-fiction downstairs, but the piles grow precarious.
I should be ashamed. But I'm not. I am a book whore.
-----
I watched Season One of The Tudors this week. I loved it. I can't wait to get Season Two. This is a part of english history that I know very little about, and in amongst the sex and intrigue are some very clear history lessons. The writing is crisp and inviting. The actors carry their parts, and I ended up feeling sorry for villains and disliking heroines. That's what keeps me interested in a series. It makes me change my mind. Even the music is good.
-------
I began outlining the fantasy novel (well one of them) that's been living in my mind for the last several months. I hope to keep at it, and get my characters set enough soon so that I can actually start writing. Well, providing my current writer's block subsides, that is.
------
As I spoke of in my most recent post, I've started watching my calories very closely and exercising daily again. It feels good to take control of that back, and I guess I'm thankful to that stupid scale at the doctors office for smacking me up 'side the head. I'm doing very well, and that makes me happy. Perhas the happiness will break the block as far as writing is concerned as well.
I can hope, can't I?
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