It started our bumpy but by late morning it was better. I thought children were naturally supposed to be happy on their birthdays. But I suppose that only starts to happen when they are actually aware of the significance of the day.

After a little frustration, I did manage to capture her perfect second birthday picture. Happy cheerful, even if only for a short time. As I write she is getting annoyed or should I say annoying.

In other news, I managed to write over 2000 words on a new story. Funny though, after giving it some thought, the whole thing is going to change. Everything except for the title. That is where the inspiration came from so that must remain the same.

So Itchy!

You ever have an itch that no matter how much you scratch it, it just won’t go away? You dig and dig until the skin is red and raw, maybe even draw blood, but no matter what, that itch remains, as strong as ever.

You try to concentrate on something else, but it’s always there. Nagging at you. Begging to be addressed. Like the little kid at the back of the class, arm raised and waving wildly, “Pick me, pick me.” But he answered all the other questions and now it’s time to give someone else a chance, but he is so persistent and can’t be ignored.

Itches are like cup sizes. From training bra to H or J or however high they go. You might have a desire to go get an ice cream cone or have a strong craving for chocolate that can’t be ignored. Maybe you have been borderline celibate for weeks, months, or heaven forbid you’re practically a born-again virgin, that you need to find some relief. Don’t think it matters much HOW you do it. Just as long as you do.

Maybe you have always wanted to travel to a particular place but haven’t had the chance to do it. But the thought is always there, that someday you’ll travel around the world, or hell, maybe only a province over. Whatever the desire, the need, just do it. But what if you travel to the next town, never having been out of your own little bubble, and discover the thrill is just so amazing, a natural high that now can never be ignored? Next you want to travel to another country, maybe even another continent. Heck, pretty soon you’re gonna want to go to the moon, or Mars.

For me, it’s writing. No matter how long I step away from the words, I always end up coming back to it. Not that I am trying to avoid it or anything, it’s just that thing in the back of your mind that when you’re doing something else, you always think you should be writing. I used to go years without writing a single short story, heck I would barely scribble out a sentence. But it itched and itched, and well, before I knew, it I was getting back to writing a novel.

I guess the point is, if there is something that you really want to do, that is gnawing at you and you just can’t shake it, then do something about it. If you want to travel, do it. If you want to go get an ice cream, do it. If you want to run a marathon or train for the IronMan, then do it.

That itch is not going to go away if you don’t scratch it just a little bit. And who knows. Maybe you don’t want it to.

Sex and a Birthday Party

No, the two do not go together. It would make for a blog post that should probably be R rated at least. You know those options that you can add a warning on your blog that it could contain...ummmm...less than desirable content, so beware? Well this post is neither. It's merely me wanting to write about two topics and, well, I thought that title would be kinda catchy.

I suck at titles. (but that will be for a different blog post)

My little girl is turning two in just under two weeks. It's amazing to me to think that it was only two years ago that I was waddling around with this great big lump sticking out of my abdomen. And believe, being a plus size female, it was a BIG lump. And then when she was born she was a tiny little 6lb baby. And now at almost 2 she is just around the 27lb mark. Oh the memories.

But yeah, her birthday is coming up and I haven't the faintest idea on what to do for a two year old that essentially has no friends, per se. The bulk of the guests will be friends of family of ours. Grown ups! (And I use that in the loosest of terms)

So I want to plan a party for a toddler but the guests are adults. There is a slight possibility that there will be another infant at the party which will make it a little better but this one is only 3 months old. Not really much you need to please that one.

I can't wait until she goes to preschool and makes a few more friends. Then we get to the REAL birthday parties. The ones that will have me pulling my hair out and as soon as it's over I will collapse in the corner with a bottle of wine still in the brown paper bag. If I make it to the end of the party. But those are things I can't worry about right now. For now I have to focus on my little two year old.

Oh and did I mention I finally managed to put pigtails in her hair. I was so pleased. Believe me, it was not simply because her hair was kinda short. I've tried before, and knew I would be able to do it, if only she would sit still long enough and let me touch her hair. Yesterday we had success.

Now the next challenge is to get rid of that stinking soother. I heard someone mention the other day that their child at almost 4 still had a soother and the way they got her to give it up was by convincing her that if they planted them in the backyard they would grow lollipops.
I think it's cute, my husband thinks it's a great big lie and we shouldn't start doing that to her. After all there are enough lies we are going to tell her over the next few years. Santa Claus. Easter Bunny. Tooth Fairy. But really, what could a little lollipop fib do to her that would be negative?


Now for the sex part that I know you have all been patiently waiting for. Well it's not that interesting of a story except that I wrote my sex scene for my novel class but it's actually a sex scene. It is. And it isn't. It's not a sex scene in the nice sense. It's of the negative variety. Of the class that is frowned upon and people go to jail for. It was actually quite difficult to write. I suppose I should be thankful for that. If it was easy, well, what would that say about me? And it is an important aspect to the story as a whole but at the same time, it will probably not even end up in the novel. At least not to the degree that it has been written at this point. Hopefully, it's real enough.

And that's all I have to say about that. I should probably go do some more writing. The house is quieting down, I just have to pop the toddler into bed and then I can have some time to myself. Oh the gloriousness that is 8:00.

Cheers.

Why Do I Bother?

Why did we buy all these toys for our child? Or why didn’t  we just donate all the toy gifts so that other less fortunate children could have something of their own? Because apparently, garbage is the toy of choice these days.  Julianne will go into the garbage and pull out anything that makes noise to some degree or if it’s not something directly from the trash can it’s empty beer or pop boxes. Her father does nothing to stop it while I cringe and cry inside. Sure the boxes aren’t that big of a deal and the garbage isn’t the really messy garbage or the rotted garbage. It usually consists of containers or jars or paper. But to me, the point is that it is meant to be garbage, or recycled and it becomes a toy. Paper is the worst. Newspaper, sticky paper any kind of paper really. When she gets it into her hot little hands, that one full piece soon becomes a million little pieces and then get scattered all over the house and of course, if I am not around, they are left scattered all over the house. I can handle scattered toys but scattered paper just drives me crazy. I see it, I promptly clean it up, I try to tell the hubby it is ridiculous to let her play with paper and anything meant for the trash, but yet he lets it happen. Sure it makes her happy, keeps her quiet, but seriously, is that the message we want to leave our children? It’s ok to go dumpster diving and sift through garbage to find that next treasured item. Yes I have this dream for my daughter to be one of those ladies that either push a grocery cart, stopping to search through garbage cans for bottles and clothes. I want her to drive a nice car but go jumping in dumpsters for other people’s junk.

I know it’s probably not as big a deal as I make it out to be, but it really drives me nuts when the stuff that I put in the trash for a particular reason, suddenly reappears in the middle of the living room floor. Or worse, in Julianne’s toy box. Garbage is meant for the garbage and when it is put there, that is where it should remain. For good. The garbage can is NOT a toy box. Today it’s the empty blueberry container, all plastic and crinkly, tomorrow it’s…oh I don’t even want to venture a guess as to what it will be tomorrow.

Today I think I am finally going to sift through all the child’s toys and clear out what she doesn’t play with anymore. Maybe put it away for baby #2, whenever he/she happens to come along. If ever.

Cheers!

A Few More Ramblings

Isn’t it funny? When you hear the word “ramblings” you think of people venting their frustrations about silly things going on in the community or the world. Well at least I do. But when I ramble it really is about nothing short of babbling. I used to be told I was a babbler. I would apparently talk about useless things and to some, I guess it seemed more like I only wanted to hear the sound of  my own voice. But I don’t think I do that. But maybe I do. Just not around people I meet for the first time. Around those people, I tend to try and pick and choose my words carefully. No one wants to sound like a retard in front of a stranger. Funny isn’t it. We will say just about anything, no matter how inane, around those that we love or know extremely well. And even when they give you that little sideways glance that says, “I can’t believe that just came out of your mouth,” you take is nothing less than love and adoration. Because no matter what you say, they aren’t going to go anywhere. Or so you would hope.

 

I totally have no idea where I am going with this. It just kinda came out. And now that it’s on the page I don’t feel like deleting it. Maybe it has a little bit to do with character. Character development in a story, I mean. When you’re trying to search for that other side of a person, how they are around people that they trust and how they are around strangers. We can be so contradictory in nature, and those little quirks are what make us who we are. But you do that in a novel or story and readers or peers start to question if that character would really behave that way. But why wouldn’t they? They’re human. Why can’t they react to one situation in one way but when faced with a similar situation but around different people, they react completely another way? Do your friends come up to you and question your character when you act differently to similar situations? I don’t think so.

And there I go again. More rambling. But I do think I make a valid point. Why do we have to defend our characters in the eyes of someone else? Why can’t they just believe that it is the way it is?  Don’t get me wrong, I do understand that some writers tend to go over the top and their characters maybe contradict themselves too much that you start to think, huh? But there are just some situations that you shouldn’t have to defend. For example, when I am around people that I don’t know very well I tend to not say much. It could be perceived as being shy, or rude or indifferent, or whatever. But on the other hand, when I am around people that I am comfortable with, I am a completely different person. I babble, I ramble, I say stupid things, and even occasionally say something funny. But the point is, I talk. I don’t just stand there. But I am the same person either way. I am me and no one questions that. No one says, what the hell, she wouldn’t be that way in that situation. Cause whose to say I wouldn’t. They know, they saw me, and that’s that.

 

Well whatever. I think I am going to go write now. Maybe I will come up with some great character development today that I didn’t think about. Oh and I still have to work on that sex scene.

Sitting in a chilly basement, the only sounds are the hum of the furnace and the occasional rattle of the old boiler. Actually that's more of an earthquake than anything else, but it's only  occasionally so I guess it's not as bad as it may seem.  All I can think about is how badly I want to go to sleep right at this very moment. My eyelids are starting to become heavy and you know that odd glazed, fuzzy feeling you get when you're really tired? Well that's where I'm at.  There is a nice couch that I could sink into and for sure be asleep in a matter of minutes, but, and this is a big but, I don't actually want to risk falling asleep here because what if I wake up in the middle of the night in this cold basement and there is no one around? Oy, I sound like a little kid afraid of the dark. But really, I don't want to fall asleep here. It's a basement. And who wants to sleep in a basement? No matter how old or tired you are? Well I suppose a homeless person would give his last bottle of vodka for a roof over his head, but...or maybe he wouldn't give up his booze. It's hard to say.

So what am I really doing here? Actually I am working and trying to get used to this new keyboard on this new Netbook I just got and let me tell you, this is not easy. The keys are smaller than I'm used to and the screen, well the screen isn't really all that bad. But the keys are actually starting to drive me a little crazy. Woo. You didn't see it but I just wrote a whole sentence without screwing up and having to backspace a million times. I know with time I will get used to this little thing but right now, it's new and it's different.

What I really should be doing right now is writing. But you are, you say? Yeah, that's true but after the loss of my manuscript I really should be doing that writing. I actually have to write a sex scene for my next class. Just one little scene. Because every good novel has some kind of sex scene doesn't it? Ok, I know there are some good ones out there that don't have any of that awkwardness but this one is actually necessary for my novel and although it is a sex scene, it's not a really nice sex scene but nevertheless, it has to be there so I get to write it. That particular scene is actually something that was already written in my draft that got lost in the streets somewhere. It was good then and I don't relish the idea of having to rewrite it but rewrite I must and so rewrite I will. But not today.

Well, as ramblings go, I guess this is a good one. It's much ado about nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I do get to say that I wrote something today.

Enjoy the chaos that is my mind.

Layers and Layers of...Over-Indulgence

I want to write. I don't want to write. I'm tired but I don't want to sleep. I'm hungry, oh and I actually want to eat, but will probably just drink instead. But then if I drink, I might actually write. It's such a vicious circle and it all leads back to one place. Write. And then when I am done writing, write some more. Or maybe sleep.

I have actually begun to rewrite my novel. I have included a lot of the pieces that I already had but have been painstakingly trying to recreate each chapter. One after another. Know what's been kind of interesting? The voice. The voice that is coming off the page has changed. It's like my main character has finally got something to say. She has mannerisms and subtleties that are far more involved than I am, and they are just screaming at me from the page. The words spill from my fingertips and I have no idea where they are coming from. It's not me. When I write the first drafts are always much more filled with description. Like an ice cream overload with tons of whipped cream and sprinkles. At some point, as delectable as it looks, it can become to much. (did I really have to explain that or would you have gotten the metaphor?) Oy. That's is my point. That's usually my problem. Too much of something and the reader goes, "Yeah, d'uh. I could have figured that out on my own." But this new draft is different. It's stock full of, wait for it...brace yourself...EMOTION and THOUGHTS! Who would have thought that my character actually had thoughts of her own? That she actually feels something in the messed up predicament that she THINKS she's in. And it's not all negative as in the pieces that I lost. It's not all oh, woe is me!

Things are not always as they seem. I guess that's kind of a theme in my novel too. When your life feels crappy and you're at the end of your ropes, there is always someone out there that has it much worse. And the reasons you think that people have for doing something, is not always as cut and dried. Afterall we are multi-layered people in real life.

I guess what is shocking me the most is that she is becoming a real person. With all those layers, those flaws, those misconceptions that we hold so dear and watch out anyone that tries to construe it as anything different.

All I can say is that maybe having lost a lot of the work that I already put in, isn't going to be such a bad thing afterall. Or maybe, instead of overindulging in the richness of that ice cream sundae, now I will weigh myself down with cheesecake.

But if it's cherry or strawberry, I might get away with it. :)

This Too Shall Pass

I've been a little non-existant these days. And for that I apologize. Life has been a bit of a whirlwind, full of happiness and frustration all at the same time. I guess in some ways I have lost a little bit of a desire to write. But don't worry. It's coming back.

It all started a couple of weeks ago. In my preparation to return my leased car and take the plunge into the world of purchasing a vehicle that has already depreciated in value, I lost something that was my life. My whole world saved on a little piece of plastic, vanished in an instant of confusion and hair-pulling frustration.

The day itself is not worth re-enacting but let's just say, nothing, and I mean nothing, went the way it should have the day that I was returning my car. Extra driving, carelessness, tiredness and shear frustration and anxiety caused that little contraption called a flash drive to fall from my pocket and be lost forever. I am still holding out hope that it's in the house somewhere. Hidden so well that I will never find it until the day we decide to move.

All of the writing I have ever done over the past 10 years, gone. Just like that. For most of you this would probably be no big deal because normal people would have had everything backed up somewhere else. So really it is my own fault that it wasn't backed up. But there is a reasoning behind that as well. In five years I have never lost that stick. Yes, it's been misplaced but it has always been recovered.  And I kept telling myself I needed to back it up but I just never got around to it. Again, totally  my fault. A few months ago my laptop contracted a virus so I had my reservations about having any of my writing or anything else of importance on the computer itself. My other flash drive was full of pictures that luckily was saved from when the computer got sick and of course I hadn't tranferred those to a CD yet so there was no room to back up the writing on that drive and I really didn't want it on my computer. Even though now, it really wouldn't have hurt to just to put in on the computer.

Invoices for the last couple of years are gone. And...probably the most painful, all of my novel that I have been so painstakingly working on for the last 7 months. I wanted to cry but I also knew it was my own fault for not being more diligent and proactive and I kept holding on to the hope that it would turn up. I tried to laugh at myself but it didn't make me feel any better.

On the positive side, I have been taking a novel class since January and everything that I had submitted over the past few months, thankfully was still saved onto some of my classmates computers. So I have gotten bits and pieces back. But a lot of it is bits and pieces that I have changed again and again over the past months. So not much is as it was. Meaning of course that I have the dreadful task ahead of me of re-creating everything. Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe it's the opportunity I needed to really get the novel the way it was supposed to be, but when I think about how much I have to re-write, I really just want to curl up in the closet and beat my head against the wall. Maybe add a few drinks to that too and I can slobber along with it. After all, isn't that writer do?

All I can really say is that once I get past this frustration and stop kicking myself for being so stupid and do re-write everything, it will be incredibly satisfying for that book to get published. Just knowing all that I had to go through to get it to that point. Might even be a good opening at my book launch.

On the most positive note of all, I am really enjoying the brand new Jeep Patriot. Depreciation and all.

Now I must write.