Time to move on?

Sign I'm not the dominant one in the relationship:  It just took me five solid minutes to get the cat (Pigger rather than Nunkin) to move off of her spot on the couch in the study so that I could sit there.  It's the only spot in the office where the internet cord reaches my laptop.  I *hate* that we don't have wireless.

Meanwhile, I randomly got an idea for a story of some sort of fantasy type which I'm now playing around with.  Somehow I ended up deciding it would be a good (or at least entertaining) idea to make my facebook status a request for ideas on multidimensional MacGuffins.  One friend suggested an omnispatial nexus key which, if used, would disrupt the fabric of the space-time continuum.  I love the idea but it won't work with the outlines of the story as they're working their way through my mind.  Meanwhile, I wrote roughly 1000 words of starting conversational stuff and showed it to Brownie on Friday (who has never actually seen any of my fictional writing before, but then neither has anyone else for that matter, something I badly need to change).  He actually liked it (I think - I don't think he was being kind), and we spent most of the afternoon talking through ideas before finding out that a friend was having something of a life crisis and spending the evening with her helping her talk stuff out.

So back to the writing.  I don't want to get into the premise yet, and I need to flesh out the plot/world more before I can write too much.  But I keep thinking that I could do something with this in a way I couldn't with the story I've been working on - that story is too character/not enough plot to be particularly marketable.  I think maybe I could get somewhere worthwhile with the idea I have now.  But (again), at the same time I'm swirling with thoughts that I should finish the project I'm already working on (just to prove to myself that I can, maybe?) and more thoughts that I should be finishing the dissertation (but still don't have any motivation).  So I feel like I'm half-nuts, like I shouldn't be grabbing onto any idea that comes by and start scribbling.  However, I kind of feel at the same time like I very much should grab onto an idea when it presents itself and seems worth working on, because one of these ideas might actually pan out, and I don't think my last project really will.  I'm not convinced it's marketable.

So maybe I shouldn't feel bad about abandoning one project in favor of another.  I can't really say that anything I've written has been a waste of time, even if I don't think I'll be able to publish it.  I've learned from it, and I know I'll learn more from whatever I end up writing that holds my interest.  And then maybe someday I'll manage to publish something. 

However, I still need a day job.

On Radiohead and other joys of life

I am boggled by the fact that there has been an In Rainbows Disk 2 for months, MONTHS, now, yet I somehow was unaware of this until about an hour ago.  Having discovered the existence of such an album, I now own it (because Ceiling Cat forbid there be Radiohead that I don't own).  "Go Slowly" and "Last Flowers" are bleeding excellent songs and my initial favorites.  This being Radiohead, my favorite songs on the album a month from now will probably be ones I'm barely paying attention to now.

I am reaching incoherency after a whopping four hours of sleep after last nights' marathon grading session.  I love the marathon grading sessions because it gets the pain over in one swell foop, but I'm not a fan of my exhaustion level right now.  That said, I don't know that I would have gotten to bed any earlier than 2am anyway simply because my sleep schedule had turned to "weekend," meaning I didn't get out of bed until close to 11 yesterday.

The oddest thing about grading yesterday was that I ended up needing a notebook out for myself so that I could jot down thoughts for noveling.  I typically end up with a notebook nearby so I can scribble notes on what sorts of writing instruction I think the class may benefit from.  I'm not used to reading potato papers and feeling any sort of inspired thought about my own work - the usual thought process is more along the lines of "____________ OMGWTFBBQ DID YOU SRSLY WRITE THAT ______________________________ I'm bored" and etc.  Weirdly, last night, despite the plenty of "WTF" thoughts, I finally managed to figure out how to get the fight between the main characters going - the bit that was giving me problems a few days ago.  So YAY.

I can't wait to have a draft of the whole novel done so that I can completely rip it apart and reorganize it.

Anyway, I'm back to "I need to write my stupid resume for to attempt to find some sort of gainful employment."  And consequently back to "I should probably take some Adderall" (which, despite my last post, I still haven't done).  And back to feeling guilty about my distinct lack of progress in dissertationland, compounded by having run into Hosebeast Advisor in the hall today and her being completely friendly.  So I feel like I'm being lazy and wasting time, which basically means I'm wasting my life. 

Barista friend from a few posts ago bought herself a plane ticket yesterday so she can move to LA at the end of the semester to be with a guy she met and spent about a week with over Spring Break.  She's over the moon happy.  I think it's... well, I think it's awesome.  I feel like I should be thinking that it's not a smart idea, that she shouldn't be tossing grad school in the basket just to try out a relationship etc etc etc., but I can't make myself do it.  She's looking for jobs and I have no idea if she's planning on finishing her MA.  And I think it's awesome because she's doing something instead of locking herself up in the academy.  I think I'm kinda jealous.  I'm not jealous that she's running of to pursue a relationship - I think I'm jealous because she's doing something wild and wonderful and crazy that sounds a lot more like living than my 7 years of doing time in the academy.  And I wish that when I'd found it stifling, I'd done something wild and crazy too.

None of that is fueling my desire to work on my dissertation.  It does, however, fuel my desire to novel more.

Back to the Adderall

Job-type update:
I now have a profile on linkedin.  It has, well, very little information on it.  Why?  Because I still haven't finished my resume.  It's... extremely strange trying to figure out how to word things in a way that "sells" me as a good job candidate (or indeed good at much of anything).  I'm also not sure if I should be putting as my field the one which currently employs me or the one in which I think I might be tolerably happy in (i.e., I think I'm giving HR a try).  Also not sure whether I should be listing my zipcode as the one in which I'm currently stuck or the one in which I'd prefer to be living in, say, 3 months.  I'm open to suggestions. 

Frustration update:
I think the resume will be finished with Adderall.  I'm too scattered lately for my brain to function correctly.  I'm frustrated to all hell with my class (seriously, potatoes, it's Twilight - please drum up some interest to pick it apart or bash it or whatever - even bashing it would bring up some kind of conversation that I could work with!), I'm behind on grading papers (it's been a week and a half now - I usually never take this long), I still have to finish that wretched book to finish teaching on Friday, I need to get my financial aid stuff taken care of for the summer/fall as I will still technically be a student, I REALLY need to finish a draft of the resume so I can get it out there, I need to help plan one of my best friend's bridal showers (I'm matron of honor and bride's mom is refusing to help with anything - long story, not mine), and I'm still trying to get some writing done on the novel. 

Unfortunately, I've been feeling so pulled around that very little actually got done today (um, this week so far).  Class was awful (I feel like I'm not doing a great job with the text, but I also feel like the fact that one person in the room actually did their homework (i.e., play on the google to find out some idea of the real extent of Twifandom) had something to do with it as well).  (I'm apparently parenthetical happy right now - sorry for that!)  I didn't get much sleep last night either.  The upshot is that I got home, ate something, complained at mah forum ladies about my stupid morning, pixel farmed, and then stared at umpteen word docs to no effect whatsoever while listening to Doves' "Some Cities" album on repeat.  I can't keep doing this, so it's back to the Adderall after the funeral.

Family/Life update:
We spent the evening at Brownie's uncle's house with his family, mostly listening to aunts and uncles and cousins compare eulogies for Brownie's grandpop's memorial.  The family writ large has been inundated with food this week - apparently the main reason we all got together was that there was suddenly enough food from neighbors and other family members that help was rather desperately needed to eat some of it.  I had no idea people still brought food to neighbors after a death in the family.  I think it's awesome that it really does happen.  The memorial service is tomorrow morning.  Brownie's mom threatened us with promised that we'd be the recipients of any fruit baskets she gets, but that she's keeping all the chocolate (her preferred stress reliever).  She planned pretty much the entire service, so I'd say she earned it.  Brownie and I are taking Nutella cookies to her on Saturday.

I should be sleepy by this point.  I'm exhausted, but I always seem to get something of a second wind along about 9:30/10.  I *hate* the timing on this, because I need to go to sleep.  The service tomorrow is at 8:30 way the hell at the other end of town.  I love when I can use this time for noveling, but that's been like pulling teeth out of a pissed off yak the past couple of days.  There's a fight that needs to happen that the characters don't seem ready to have yet, but that I need them to have within the next 12 or so hours of plot.  I can't figure out if I'm forcing the fight when the characters aren't quite ready for it or if I just haven't hit the right head space to write it.  I just can't hear it yet.  I can hear the aftermath loud and clear, but not the fight.  I'll have to backburner it for a few days and see what my brain dreams up while I'm working on other things.  I don't exactly have time to novel at the moment anyway, sadly.

In which I emo some

So the dissertation is still frozen in time, although this is not the fault of playing Farmville of facebook. It's just me and my performance anxiety/self-fulfilling-prophecy-fear-of-failure type thing. I probably can do this damn thing. So I should get on that so that it's done. So that I can stop grinding my teeth at night - my jaw hurts all the damn time. So does my back.

The novel is fairly well frozen in time at the moment as well, but not quite for the same reason as the dissertation. I've spent a fair bit of time with the novel docs open on my computer. I've mentally rehashed a particular character, and need to do the rewrites on that. Mostly I'm just stuck, however: like I've gotten it to a certain place and I know the other really major event that needs to be worked through, and then it needs to end... but I'm not entirely sure exactly how it ends and so have spent a lot of time mulling it over. A LOT of time mulling it over. Often while playing endless games of 4 suite Spider Solitaire (w00t 8% won!) and listening to whatever music seems helpful for whatever chunk of writing I'm trying to think about. There are so many ways this whole novel fits together in my head, but they feel blocked right now. We're supposed to get a Snowpocalypse this weekend, so mayhaps I'll spend probably-snowed-in-Caturday slathered in BPAL Block Buster and see if that has any discernable effect.

I'm having a hard time believing it's February already - I know I spent half of January out in KS but it still feels to me like it should be January. Or really, last October maybe. I know that I'm in mid-SAD for the year and that this is probably contributing to my general sense of nothing (nothing in the sense that nothing really affects me anymore, in that I'm already feeling just down and blank and whatever). I don't feel like I can think at all right now, like my brain knows it has a job (several, really) to do but isn't up to the task(s). This round of SAD is less self-involved and introspective than usual. I assume this is due to Brownie's ongoing job/dissertation stress, which has so overtaken his life that I feel mostly unable to live my own; keeping him even half-functional lately has been above and beyond my emotional capabilities. I don't blame him for this, really - I do think it's 99% how obnoxious and awful the whole academic job search thing is. I'm hoping he hears something soon so that we can even attempt to make some sort of near-future life plans. He did finally say (and seemed truly to mean it) that if the job stuff doesn't work out this year, we can pick a city, move there, and see what happens. I kind of adore this idea, but I'm not holding my breath.

So I do think that most of the lack of introspection during my current depressive funk is due to everything I just mentioned, but I also wonder if part of it is just that I've basically figured most of my shit out for the moment, but lack the energy or motivation to actually DO anything about any of those issues (i.e., classic depressive problem). I just wish I could get excited about something again, anything really, because I don't remember the last time I actually was excited. My basic range of emotions is this: genuine concern/care for family/friends, and blah. Like I'm turning 30 in 2.5 weeks. My thoughts on this are not OMGFREAKOUT, nor are they YAY (which is actually what I was expecting - my 20's are something I'm glad to leave behind me), nor are they anything at all other than "oh, I have to teach that day." Brownie has something big planned, but I haven't been able to get excited about that either. I've told him I am, and I very much want to mean it. It's just that finding the energy to be excited seems beyond me right now.

I think the depression is bigger than seasonal affective, because it's been going on way too long (erm, for at least the last two years). I've never had any luck with antidepressants, so I'm really resistant to going on them again. I hope to Ceiling Cat that leaving grad school behind will help - I've pinned my hopes for my sanity on that event.

I'll sign off for now. If I get really ambitious, I'll try and post every day until I turn 30 so as to chronicle the last few weeks of my 20's.

Getting out of bed

Getting out of bed in the morning has taken to posing something of a problem for me (er, moreso than usual). I can't decide how much of this is January/February-standard SAD and how much of it is the general "where is my life going"-type angst that I've been feeling for the past year. Admittedly, part of the problem this morning is that it's gray and raining (boo, January, it's supposed to be snowing now, not raining!), and rain is guaranteed to keep me in bed as long as possible.

So by this point it's 1pm. This morning I have managed the following:
- finally pull my butt out of bed around 10:45-11
- eat a bowl of oatmeal (breakfast is a new thing I'm trying as of this morning, so we'll see how that goes)
- drink my coffee
- check my email, facebook and forum
- sit and contemplate blogging for a while before deciding to attempt to get a post out

I was going to blog last night because I was in sort of the right mood (i.e., contemplative or whatever), but then it occurred to me that I had pot de creme in the fridge (leftover from Brownie's birthday on Thursday) and an unwatched Vampire Diaries on the DVR. I went for the easier option. I didn't even feel guilty about it, which I figure is a good step for me. But then, Saturday night at midnight shouldn't be a time to feel guilty about wanting to relax.

At this point I'm trying to convince myself to go to the gym. I really should: the running is good for me mentally and emotionally (well, and physically, but I never seem to think about that as much this time of year - it's all about trying to keep my mood at a supportable level).

It's idiotic the things I contemplate when I'm sitting here at 1 o'clock on a Sunday and trying desperately to get myself to do something about which I might actually feel good. I've spent 20 minutes trying to figure out what BPAL I have that is appropriate for a miserably cold and rainy winter day. I have a few that work for miserably cold and rainy autumn and spring days, but for some reason none of those seem right for winter, as though winter were to need something with that extra level of "well, it really should be snowing but it's not." In the grand scheme of things, this entire line of thinking is insane, and I know this, and I also know that chances are extremely high that I'll throw on something woodsy and be done with it. And none of this matters.

What I probably should do is get my ass off the futon, go to the gym so I can run and lift weights for a while, come home, shower, and work on the novel for a while. I had a lengthy conversation on Friday night which ended at 3 and kept me up until after 5 thinking about how guilt can be used as a subtle, awful weapon in a relationship. Nothing about the conversation itself need be said, as it's not my current issues that were being explored, meaning that this isn't a space for any of that to be discussed, but it did occur to me at some point as I was lying in bed reeling from some nasty memories which I wish would just die already that a problem with the novel in current form is that I was nowhere near hitting exactly how guilt can be used as a mechanism of control, but that this is something I can fix in revisions. Therefore I think I ought to be revising while all of this is fresh in my head (or, really, sort of fresh - I've been turning this over and over and over for about a day and a half now so that everything's shifted a few times by now).

I think I am going to go to the gym. It's probably the best thing I can do for the blahs at the moment.

I know it just won a Golden Globe and all

...but I still refuse to see "Dances With Smurfs."
Okay, maybe it's technically brilliant and I gather it's so flipping beautiful that it depresses people to see our own world or whatever (seriously - CNN said so), but my fucking FSM I NEED A PLOT IN MY FILMS. OR AT LEAST PLAUSIBLE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. Honestly, Up in the Air was excellent, and The Hurt Locker should have won for director (which in the interest of staying honest I will admit here to having not seen yet - I've been waiting for dvd and Netflix so that I can watch it with whatever breaks I need to take to be able to deal with it). At least Glee won, so I can deal with that. And Robert Downey Jr's speech was perfect.

In reality: classes start tomorrow. I managed to do better than I have some semesters in dealing with this problem. My syllabus is already photocopied, even - two years ago I managed to photocopy my syllabus five minutes before class began. I'd have been fucked proper if the copy machine hadn't been working. So this semester the syllabus is done (finished mostly last night around 1am - such a fantastically fail way to spend a Saturday night), I've got everything that I could find online up on Blackboard already and a list of the last few articles/books I need to request from the library ready to go on my laptop for some point in the next day or two when I feel like bothering the folks at the ILL desk. My nails are polished in a fairly non-professional yet course appropriate black-with-red-shimmer and I know exactly what BPAL I'm wearing tomorrow but am still stumped on actual clothing (aka, the only part of my appearance other than my hair that my students are likely to notice in the slightest). Story of my life - the details are all put together but I'm missing a few of the major pieces.

As far as it being the start of my last semester of grad school, I keep thinking I should have some deep or profound thoughts about it, but I don't. I don't even really have a "yippee" type feeling about it. I just want it to end. I'm hoping the class goes well (it generally does - this is my third go-round with the syllabus), but beyond that I just want it over and I want to move on with my life.

I started reading some of the novel last night because I felt like working on it but wasn't being particularly productive in the writing sense of things. And. It's not awful. I wasn't embarassed for myself when I read it. So that's a bonus, because embarassment was pretty much what I was expecting to feel. What I read needs fucktons of work before I'd show it to anyone else (at which point it would need fucktons more work, I'm sure, because that's how these things go), but at least for the moment I'm not feeling bad about it (definite bonus, as I've got this irritating won't-go-away guilt about working on novel stuff when I "should" be working on my dissertation... it maybe time to return to old attempts to rid myself of "should," as "should" never leads to good feelings).

A propos of nothing, I made an apricot-pine nut tart from a Lidia Bastianich recipe, and it was AWESOME. I'll post the pictures and stuff when I figure out how to post pictures here (read: when I bother uploading them from my camera).

I'll just end it here by reiterating that I'm surprised that I'm greeting my last semester of grad school so... blandly. I'm much calmer than I would have thought I'd be.

Also good for calm: The Flaming Lips' "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots."

Some random thoughts

I went with Brownie and his parents to see 'Invictus' this afternoon. It was okay. I wasn't hugely impressed. It wasn't awful, but it wasn't great. I'm mostly glad I wasn't the one funding the tickets. I think my next film will be 'the Lovely Bones.' I hope it's better.

I read what's written so far of the last third of the novel last night. It wasn't as bad as I feared. It's not quite to the standard of being willing to show other people, but I didn't think it reeked of pointless sentimentality either, so that's a bonus. Part of my goal with the novel is to deal with some extremely emotional situations - i.e., situations that have to be dealt with emotionally because the logical counterpoint isn't/can't be there - without making them seem mawkish or insulin-inducing. However, at the moment my MC is in the middle of making out with her romantic interest, and it's still going to be a while before I allow them into a real relationship, so I'm going to have to break that up and I feel sorta bad about it.

Two passionfruit martinis do not make for easy typing. I've corrected roughly every fourth word I've typed. I might be better off getting off the internet and hitting the yarn/crochet hook for the evening.

Job things for Brownie aren't going well. I had a daydream that I sold my novel for way more money than anyone could possibly expect and managed to keep us afloat (and my bpal habit going strong) for a year until he got a job, but that, like I said, is pretty clearly a daydream. I think one of the things that seems hardest about the possibility of being a writer is not knowing exactly when the next paycheck will come. Like you could sell a book, get a huge paycheck, know you could live off of it for a while and all that and yet still be insecure because really, where does the next one come from? Will it be soon? How much will it be? How can one budget?

After a morning of facebook stalking

The facebook privacy changes have been fun. I've gotten to see much of the profiles of various mythical figures which has been all kinds of good fun. Probably a little creepy, but definitely good fun. I'm a bad person. However, I've also found some fantastic bad poetry, figured out that one guy is creepier and weirder than my wildest imaginings, that a friend has a crush on a damn hot guy and so on, so it's been fun.

I'm also up to three students friend requesting me on facebook, which is some kind of record for me. All three were awesome, so I've actually accepted them.

Beyond that, the semester got me into some really bad food habits - I got up at 10:30, had coffee, and after playing around have realized that it's almost 2 and that I haven't actually eaten anything. It's been like this most of the semester. I've been getting up, having coffee, and then mentally pretending that the coffee (which I take black) is food until some point after normal people have eaten lunch, when I realize that I'm starving. And then I have a huge dinner and don't eat again until the next day. So I'm eating what amounts to probably three meals worth of food, just lumped together twice and mostly at dinner. And I wonder why (stress aside) my stomach has been so ripped apart painful ouch lately. I've got to cut this shit out and start eating on a more normal schedule again. It'll help me feel better when I exercise too.

Bad news on the academicjobsearchfront - the one school that had so far requested more info from Brownie apparently called everyone yesterday to set up MLA interviews and he didn't get a call. So that's out. That was also the only one in an honest-to-god city, so we're off to podunks now. I'm hating this, but more I'm hating what it's doing to Brownie - he's having a hard time not taking all the rejection personally (which is understandable even if it is a bad thing to do) and I just want to give him a really big hug, but really big hugs don't help anything (I'm doing it anyway). I'm scared to fucking death neither one of us will have a job come June first and won't know where our next paychecks are coming from. The current paychecks are already too small to be able to save anything as it is.

The noveling is going relatively well. I've got one conversation that I've already re-written twice to try and get it closer to right - I know I'll have to revise it again later, but it has to end in the right place and have gone in the right directions or it'll screw a bunch of things up. But I'm still plugging away (often til 3am or so), and really am enjoying it. I'm hoping I can have near a draft ready by Christmas so I can take some time away to do the dissertation and then return to it and see if I can make it shiny.

Now to eat before I hose my blood sugar levels or something.

Buh?

The NaNo verification thing came up with something like 300 more words than I thought I had. Strange. Not complaining, just mildly confused. I still can't believe I have 50k - all I can think about is all the stuff that still needs to happen (like introducing the MC's cat, which does need to happen, or, um, any sort of denouement which is still realistically 15K away at least). Also, I almost don't even want to think about revisions except that I want to keep writing to get the draft done so that I can take some time away from it (er, um - write my dissertation) so that I ca get back to it with better, fresher eyes and revise and revise and revise. And then if my ego has gone insane, see what I can do with it.

Realistically, the story isn't done yet. Not really even all that close. If I keep the word count for the fourth part of the book in the same area as the other three, it should be about 15K or so, but I've already got 5K and it feels like there's more than 10K left to do. We'll see.

Thank goodness for low-key Thanksgiving breaks - that's the only way this thing is as far as it is right now. If I could only have another 3 months of this, I'd be golden. Unfortunately, the emails from students are starting to pile up as they stress out about the last week of classes, and at some point I really do need to remember that I'm *supposed* to be a graduate student.

Real life blows. November has been a fun fake life month.

a propos of some great romantic tale

I've hit the point with the NaNo that it's been going along blisteringly quickly (well, sort of - I haven't had to be on campus since Monday afternoon and so I've been glued to my computer transcribing the conversations in my head) until late last night. Thursday night was particularly awesome. Something about turkey nomming and staying up until 3am writing was awesome - there's actually some sort of a chance that I'll hit 50K by the end of the month. Weirdness. I really didn't think I'd get anywhere near that.

Anyway, so I finally hit the point where I could reintroduce the romantic interest to the MC and I've realized that what I'm attempting to do is more or less a combination of Jane Austen's Persuasion and the film Before Sunset (the Before Sunrise part, as long as I'm thinking of it in those terms, is mixed in via flashbacks to the first part of the book. I think. It's all written out separately and waiting for me to figure out how to order it in). Part of me is amused by this since I'm roughly the age of the protagonists of Before Sunset and only a year older that Miss Anne Eliot - I find myself wondering if there's something about hitting almost-30 that makes one prone to reexamining those first loves (recognizing at the same time that Austen herself was well beyond 30 when she actually wrote Persuasion, but, you know, details or whatever). Maybe there really aren't any new ideas at all anymore (not that I ever thought I was covering anything new).

The other thing that I think is sort of strange about all of this is that I didn't have one of those grandly all-encompassing loves when I was in my very early 20s that I could then reflect back on now. I've certainly spent time rethinking the old romances, but part of that has happened in realizing that I never had one of the really big crazy "I'm devoting my whole soul to you" type romances at a young age. I was prone to the occasional life-threatening crush, especially on one particular guy in college with these ridiculously blue eyes who was kind enough to be friends with me but never take me to bed. He treated the women he dated really badly (he was hot, knew he was hot, and responded to this by cheating on his girlfriends all the time), and so I think I was really lucky that I never got mixed up in any of that. The way things were, he just got to be a crush. We used to walk to class together when we both lived in the dorms, just talking about whatever, and I remember really specifically one hangover where I ran into him in the cafeteria right before it closed as I was attempting, in my pajamas, to convince myself that if I were to eat some scrambled eggs that they'd stay down. He took pity on me, sat with me while I ate (erm, attempted to eat) and regaled me with a few of his choicer hangover stories. He knew I thought he was gorgeous (I told him so at the bus stop one day after an English class) - he probably just enjoyed having an ardent (if nauseous) audience for his stories. We managed to overlap at parties all the way through college, and through some weird accident he ended up seated directly behind me at graduation (a good feat, given there were something like 6,000 people graduating that day and we weren't the same major). For all that, I don't think we ever even hugged. I have no clue what happened to him, and no desire to find out. It's interesting to me though that when I think through this, he's the one that comes to mind - not any of the guys I actually dated or loved or anything else - what I think of is the almost- but ultimately un-attainable crush.

Brownie forever says that I'm not a romantic. I can't decide if I think he's right or not. I know romance as such is something that I tend to keep very much internalized - it's there, but no one, often even my husband, really experiences it - and Brownie's experienced more of it than anyone else. I'm nervous to death to let anyone else read the NaNo writings because so much of the internalized romance is out there, even if in the muted, disillusioned way that I usually externalize it - that sort of mode that is captured so masterfully in the texts mentioned above (and which I would dearly love to kid myself I'd be someday capable of imitating). I don't know what it says about me that I was in love with Persuasion by the end of junior high but didn't discover cheesy high school romance novels until late in grad school (although who am I kidding - it's partially to figure that shit out that I'm scribbling this all down now).

Dammit. I feel like I had it for a moment, but lost it as I was typing out that last parenthetical. Keep thinking.

Maybe what I really like is the idea of being able to (re)gain a sense of romance after severe disillusionment or disappointment - the idea that love doesn't end with high school or college, that love stories are just as potent (if not moreso, more honest) when we've experienced enough to have a better sense of what's out there and how great and terrible it can be. That when we're smarter and jaded about everything, there can still be that magic. It may be harder to find, but that might make it all the more wonderful.

But it was going so well...

I need a little writer's blocked smiley icon to put here or something. I haven't written much of anything since Friday. I *tried* to write last night, but managed something like 350 words of utter shit that will be deleted and gave up. I haven't counted those words toward the word count. I've got 2 different storylines going that need to be wrapped up to a certain point before I can launch into the last major plot arch. One of the storylines doesn't seem like it should be too difficult but for some reason I'm having issues with just getting writing down. The other storyline needs to incorporate the MC's new cat, new apartment, new job, new friends and new etc before I can introduce the love interest. I've gotten the friends about halfway in (insofar as they're introduced) and I've seen the cat once. She's gotten the job but hasn't started it. She's met her soon-to-be landlord's German Shepherd but doesn't know where she'll be living at the moment. It's like I know what I need to have happen but actually writing it all is just NOT. WORKING. I guess I'll go back to trying to slam through the rest of the other storyline first so that I can catch everything up to where I am now in storyline 2 and then go from there.

I doubt most of that will make any real sense. I'm just trying to get a bit of the frustration out so that maybe I can get something more written in an attempt to catch back up. I kinda feel like once I get the love interest involved it'll get easier to write, but I don't feel like I should start his section until I've gotten through the rest of it so that I know exactly what sort of mental/emotional state the MC is in when she meets him.

Also, kitty went to the vet on Friday due to continued UTI-type stuff. They took a urine sample and an earwax sample and I'm currently sitting around and waiting for a phone call from the vet to tell me what's going on. I hate waiting. I hope she's okay. She's not dealing with the antibiotics well - she keeps puking.

Weirdness from the NaNo World

I for serious cannot believe I've been researching popular Omaha hangouts during the Berkshire Hathaway annual meeting so that I can get some ideas as to where Warren Buffett might hang out because for some reason I now need this knowledge in my novel. FFS. Also, you can get a lot of information about people through their cell phones. Also good to know for the novel.

The novel which is pretty much turning into a love story.

I swear I don't know what all is in my head right now but. I should probably make myself write for a while this afternoon.

Scribbling away

I've hit a pretty good stride with the NaNo. I have a hard time writing during the day (or even really during hours I should even be awake). However, I end up thinking a lot about where I am in the novel so that I have a lot to write when I'm feeling writerly, and consequently have hit the just over 10,000 word mark. YAY! I can't believe I've made it so far already. Also, I have a tentative possible title that will change 800 more times because I'm terrible at titles. Terrible. Horrible.

And I perused the NaNo forums long enough to realize that I'm writing LitFic, which probably shouldn't be a surprise. I seem to fall under the category of "by the time you take out all the SRS BZNS themes, it's about a girl who does stuff." I hope I don't come across as a wanker. Or even if I do, I hope it's readable wanking instead of hyper-pretentious wanking.

Taking a brief noveling break this afternoon to make dinner for Brownie's parents. I've dismembered a pumpkin, roasted it, roasted the seeds, and turned part of the pumpkin into ravioli filling. The rest will probably be fed via teaspoons to the cats or turned into pumpkin bread. Brownie's starting the pasta dough now. Then we'll roll out the dough, slap the filling in, cut the ravioli up, cook it and serve it in a brown-butter sage sauce. With pumpkin seed garnish.

And typing that out and realizing that the only thing I've had to eat today is a raisin bran muffin with my coffee, I'm thinking I should go eat. Or at least demolish half the pumpkin seeds.

This Whole Noveling Thing

I can't work on it while Brownie's in the room. I almost can't work on it when he's in the apartment unless he's asleep. He's completely supportive about this whole idea, but I'm petrified to show him anything. I don't get myself on this one. I can't decide if I'm afraid that he won't like it or afraid that he actually will. Not that there's way too much to show him yet. Or that I'm writing in order, or have written enough of anything that it would make sense to anyone else.

I do like how the characters are only sort of paying attention to the personality traits I had listed for them. Certain things will work but as I get them in dialogue, they suddenly do something else and I find myself thinking 'okay, that made sense, but that wasn't what I was expecting.'

Finally, I wish I could get it out of my head that I'm just pretending to do this, or that I'm somehow pretending to write fiction just because I've never had a class in creative writing or really done all that much of it (see: failed attempts at bad poetry in high school). As I know from cooking, I don't need a class to become good at something. Maybe I have a block on this because it involves writing - like after all the college classes and grad school classes I don't feel like I should write anything that I haven't had lengthy discussions about beforehand.

So I lack self-confidence. Fuck it. That hasn't stopped me from doing things before, and I almost always lack self-confidence. Ergo, lacking self-confidence here shouldn't stop me from scribbling more. So what if I think I sound like an eighth-grader sometimes. That's what revisions are for, right?

Complaining

So I hate Windows Vista. Friday night as I was update-stalking BPAL and chatting and listening to Pandora and playing Spider Solitaire and so on, everything in laptopland was fine and dandy. I closed my laptop around 1 and went to bed.

Saturday afternoon when I got back from a run, I opened my laptop. The icons were all the same, and all where they should be. My first sign of impending terror was that my wallpaper was GONE. It is emphatically not a happy thing to be expecting to see a wonderfully sardonic xkcd strip and find yourself confronted with "supergeneric default wallpaper one." Also, everything I had opened up - iTunes, spider, the novel outline, a chunk of a novel chapter, my email - was all closed. So I clicked on iTunes. It said "now configuring iTunes." I sat there and waited in dawning horror as it finally configured and there was NOTHING. I have 1400 songs - not as many as some but quite a few nonetheless. ALL GONE. Shaking, I opened my documents. EMPTY. Photos? POOF. This is when the screaming panic set in.

Eventually, Brownie decided we should call my dad, who, being a supergeek, is wise in the ways of Windows. He made me reboot, which I had been terrified to do in case it made the loss of everything permanent. It came up saying my user profile wasn't loading correctly (um, no shit). So Dad told me to find a real geek since he didn't want to attempt to walk me through everything on the phone, and that everything would be fine and calm down.

So I've sort of calmed down in that I know everything is apparently accessible and that I will in fact be okay. At the same time, of everything on my computer, all that's backed up is one dissertation chapter and half of the dissertation introduction. There's another half chapter and a shitton of notes that aren't backed up at all. My music isn't backed up. My photos aren't backed up. My novel work isn't backed up. None of my old papers or anything else is backed up. I have recipes and knitting patterns and crochet patterns and all sorts of shit that could just disappear forever. Lesson learned: BACK SHIT UP. I'll be buying an external hard drive when I get paid next Thursday. And using it.

I cannot believe how dependent I am on my laptop. It feels like half my life is inaccesible to me. I mean, I can still log on to the various websites and online things that I need by using Brownie's computer, however irritating it is that I can't just click on a bunch of links in my favorites and be pre-logged in and whatever. It's extremely strange to me that there's a forum that I frequent which I don't know the address to, so that I could only get to it by clicking on a link to it in the siggie of another person on a different forum. I couldn't remember my password for this blog - I had to go through and create a new one. All of this is just irritating, but it's basically fine. The real heart attack is the writing on my laptop that is currently dead to the world.

The weirdest thing - probably the most telling, and the part I should be paying the most attention to - is that the fact that the dissertation may have up and disappeared was the thing that I was least concerned about. It wasn't my first thought - it wasn't actually my third. The thoughts went in order of novel, music, pictures, and then dissertation about two minutes later. Most of that time was devoted to freaking the fuck out about the novel. It's the novel start I'm planning on using for NaNoWriMo - I have a few chapters more or less okay for the moment (about 15,000 words total), and was planning on using NaNoWriMo to flesh out and write the vast majority of the rest of it (i.e., the writing I have done so far won't be counted toward the 50,000 word goal). The idea of losing those chapters is stomach churning. So (to wrap it back around)(yes, I do have ADD) I feel like I should have cared more about the dissertation than the novel as it's the dissertation which would land me a Ph.D., whereas the novel isn't realistically likely to do anything for me. And yet I didn't much care about the dissertation. I know I'm that burnt out, but I guess the degree itself doesn't really mean much to me anymore. This, however, is a different post, which I will write when I'm ready.

So other than that, I've had 4 panic attacks since the initial horror of possible compocalypse (to borrow a term from Cleolinda)(and holy shit, her actual compocalypse blows mine to bits), drank a goodly bit more than strictly necessary Saturday night, and probably need to go on a run, which I'll do when I get done here. My current institution of higher ed, wherein lie the particular geeks who can fix dear laptop for free, is on fall break, meaning no one is around to fix my laptop until then. So Imma knit a scarf instead, and try and think through the rest of the novel outline that I cannot type since I cannot access that document. I hate this.