So my birthday is coming up soon, hence the title. This is not a plea for birthday shenanigans, presents, or anything else. It's just a silly post (well, most of them are).
Normally, I get all anxious and depressed around my birthday and obsess about all the things I haven't done yet. For example: I foolishly thought I'd have a whole series of books under my belt (written, not read, duh) by the time I turned 35, but now that day is fast approaching (ACK it's this fucking WEEK) and I'm still in the middle of book 1 with the outline for two other series waiting impatiently on my desk. Not two other books: two other series of books. My brain is getting blocked up, people.
The characters for those series' appear regularly in dreams, knock politely during meetings at work, move furniture in my head while I'm making dinner, and scream in my ear while I choreograph for dance class. Sigh. They're insistent and relentless, and I think I'm finally ready to set aside book 1 for a while in favor of giving them some attention. It's a big decision I've been agonizing over for a few months: feels quite like I'm abandoning my first kid in favor of another. I really like the general idea for my first series, but I'm 30k words in and, well, to be brutally honest I'm boring MYSELF...therefore something is fatally wrong. It's not violent enough, too violent, not sexy enough, not complicated enough, too complicated...I've been trying to figure out what the issues are so I can fix them and move on, but after two years of work I don't think there's any fix right now. I think it's time to say buh-bye for a while and focus on something else.
Like the other four couples banging around in my head trying desperately to get out on paper.
And clearly I've not yet had enough coffee, since I'm rambling on about writing when this is SUPPOSED to be a birthday post. Fail on my part: sorry.
Every year I'm required by my family (parents, sisters, husband) make a list of shit I haven't bought for myself already so they can get presents I actually want. The list is generally books (because I'm a fucking addict and NEVER buy all the books I really want), movies/tv shows, and random other fun shit.
Since I was about twelve, all birthday/Christmas lists have included three inexpensive staples that I can always use and offer a cheap alternative to the hardcovers on my list: candles, bath stuff, and hair doodies.
Yes. Hair doodies. I'm a writer and former English major who makes up words. My husband gave me shit about that word for nearly a full day via text, because he's a buttface who enjoys my mentalness. I told him he doesn't have to buy me any: they're a go-to-inexpensive-girly gift: the equivalent of stocking stuffers for me. *shrug* And on the scale of importance for birthday celebrations, they're not terribly high. I mean, my title is pretty clear about my priorities, right?
This year, however, all celebrations may be trumped by one massively exciting event. I get to meet The Bloggess ON MY BIRTHDAY. That's right, one of my all time favorite writers will be in my town on my bday. This is a pretty fucking banner happening (actually more than when I met Mercedes Lackey at Convergence a few years ago) and I'm so fucking excited I'm getting anxious today...it's Tuesday.
She's here on Friday.
I'm hoping turning 35 will give me just enough adult-ness to NOT make a total fangirl ass of myself. I will NOT bring her wine (even though I want to) or squeak or do anything too monumentally stupid. I will NOT bring her wine (even though I want to) or squeak or do anything too monumentally stupid...see where I'm going with this?
Yeah yeah...I know. Me + "adult behavior" = fail. I'm gonna give it my damndest though...because I'd prefer NOT to freak her out.
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Monday, August 06, 2012
WTF Weekend
Friday afternoon I stopped at The Company Which Must Not Be Named (ps: I'm not allowed to talk about them per my disgustingly paltry severance agreement when I got laid off last fall). The office is on my way home, and I still have fabulous friends working there...I stopped after 4:30 on a Friday to drop off a little present for one of them, because I think random presents are neat even when they're silly penguin notebooks. And I'm babbling...moving on.
Anyway, I was hanging out in the Support room with the cool kids and the Support Manager greeted me with "Jess, don't you want to come back? PLEASE? You can configure (system name here) for us again...I even have spot for you!" Because I adore said support manager I kindly said thanks-but-no, I like my new gig, and moved on to other topics. Little did I know the error of that decision to stay and chat.
I tried to avoid seeing any OTHER former co-workers, my old boss in particular, because...well...let's just say she and I didn't get along well and leave it at that, shall we?
Of COURSE she walked into the support room. Of COURSE she stopped dead and stared at me for a full awkward second or two. Seeing as she personally chose to lay me off (never mind less experienced BAs who made more $$ than me were kept on...the whole not-getting-along thing, you know), I was FUCKING FLOORED when she tried to give me a big hug (AWKWARD, particularly since I didn't move and definitely didn't return the hug), asked how I'm doing, and "don't you want to come back and configure for me?"
To my credit, I did NOT laugh in her face or say she couldn't possibly afford me (because there's no amount of money they could pay to get me towork for that woman go back to traveling). Instead I asked about her kids every time she tried to find out where I work now and if I like it, and tried to give her absolutely no info about me. The whole encounter was vindicating (haHA! You DID fuck up letting me go), amusing, and really really awkward.
So, followed up that experience with a trip to see Jeff Dunham (aka Jefa-fa dunHAM...dot COM) at Mystic Lake Casino. First, let's discuss the location of this venue. I THOUGHT the tickets were for the auditorium (inside the casino) when I bought them. Oh no, they were outside in the makeshift amphitheater. Which means there's no decent view to be had (and to be fair I was cheap and didn't buy the expensive tickets anyway). Mystic Lake, however, decided it'd be a GREAT idea to make concert-goers park about a mile away from the Amphitheater (not exaggerating here, folks) and force them to walk through the casino on the way to/from the show. Husband and I were so irritated at this (it was hot out that day, fuckers!) we didn't go back to play the Princess Bride slot machines, even though I really want to...what IS the Fezzik bonus??
We finally found our seats out on the grass. The portable stadium-style seats were pretty uncomfortable for us tall folk, and the one shortie with us couldn't reach her feet to the ground when she sat and had a hard time seeing through the crowd in front of us. But that's ok...it was too far to see Jeff and the puppets anyway (if you don't know, Jeff Dunham is a ventriloquist comedian whose Comedy Central specials are funny as hell). He started late (of course). I'll say this: there were a few times he made me laugh to tears. There were also quite a few totally bombed jokes: he tried out some new material that just didn't go well (don't know if it was the MN audience or just not funny). At one point I wondered if he realized that the reservation has its own police force...and thought they better have a good sense of humor or he might not get off the res...there were some pretty bad Indian jokes.
If that wasn't enough excitement, I took my sister up to my Grandma's for her baby shower, which consisted of a day sitting around the kitchen table mostly talking about poop bracketed by three hours in the car each way.
Yesterday I napped. I still haven't recovered...the introvert is screeching at me to hide in my office and write, away from actual live breathing people and accompanied only by the ones in my imagination. We'll see how much of that I can pull off this week.
Anyway, I was hanging out in the Support room with the cool kids and the Support Manager greeted me with "Jess, don't you want to come back? PLEASE? You can configure (system name here) for us again...I even have spot for you!" Because I adore said support manager I kindly said thanks-but-no, I like my new gig, and moved on to other topics. Little did I know the error of that decision to stay and chat.
I tried to avoid seeing any OTHER former co-workers, my old boss in particular, because...well...let's just say she and I didn't get along well and leave it at that, shall we?
Of COURSE she walked into the support room. Of COURSE she stopped dead and stared at me for a full awkward second or two. Seeing as she personally chose to lay me off (never mind less experienced BAs who made more $$ than me were kept on...the whole not-getting-along thing, you know), I was FUCKING FLOORED when she tried to give me a big hug (AWKWARD, particularly since I didn't move and definitely didn't return the hug), asked how I'm doing, and "don't you want to come back and configure for me?"
To my credit, I did NOT laugh in her face or say she couldn't possibly afford me (because there's no amount of money they could pay to get me to
So, followed up that experience with a trip to see Jeff Dunham (aka Jefa-fa dunHAM...dot COM) at Mystic Lake Casino. First, let's discuss the location of this venue. I THOUGHT the tickets were for the auditorium (inside the casino) when I bought them. Oh no, they were outside in the makeshift amphitheater. Which means there's no decent view to be had (and to be fair I was cheap and didn't buy the expensive tickets anyway). Mystic Lake, however, decided it'd be a GREAT idea to make concert-goers park about a mile away from the Amphitheater (not exaggerating here, folks) and force them to walk through the casino on the way to/from the show. Husband and I were so irritated at this (it was hot out that day, fuckers!) we didn't go back to play the Princess Bride slot machines, even though I really want to...what IS the Fezzik bonus??
We finally found our seats out on the grass. The portable stadium-style seats were pretty uncomfortable for us tall folk, and the one shortie with us couldn't reach her feet to the ground when she sat and had a hard time seeing through the crowd in front of us. But that's ok...it was too far to see Jeff and the puppets anyway (if you don't know, Jeff Dunham is a ventriloquist comedian whose Comedy Central specials are funny as hell). He started late (of course). I'll say this: there were a few times he made me laugh to tears. There were also quite a few totally bombed jokes: he tried out some new material that just didn't go well (don't know if it was the MN audience or just not funny). At one point I wondered if he realized that the reservation has its own police force...and thought they better have a good sense of humor or he might not get off the res...there were some pretty bad Indian jokes.
If that wasn't enough excitement, I took my sister up to my Grandma's for her baby shower, which consisted of a day sitting around the kitchen table mostly talking about poop bracketed by three hours in the car each way.
Yesterday I napped. I still haven't recovered...the introvert is screeching at me to hide in my office and write, away from actual live breathing people and accompanied only by the ones in my imagination. We'll see how much of that I can pull off this week.
Thursday, August 02, 2012
It's true: I do not gargle donkey balls.
I'll explain that in a minute, promise.
I had a mental-out yesterday and a whiny bitch-fest, and instead of telling me to suck it up I got some fantabulous comments: thank you. You guys are more awesome than unicorns and glitter.
(I had a neat pic here and realized it's not MINE to share on a blog...must investigate).
I also got two violently positive drop-kicks to my impending depression. Knocked that fucker right back into his hole.
First, I discovered I'm on someone else's blogroll. So what, you say? Well, being fairly easily excitable, I often squee in delight when this blog gets more than 100 views in a day (so far it's happened twice, and Husband texts "yay" and probably rolls his eyes behind his phone but that's ok: I know it's silly). I think it's ridiculously neat that I have a few regular readers (other than me, I mean).
In this case, it means a fucking HILARIOUS blogger reads my shit and likes it. (Seriously, go read her NOW. I'll wait. Try not to snort whatever you're drinking through your nose. I dare you.)
Every comment (good and bad, despite my rant yesterday) and every reader/follower matters to me. To find out someone is entertained enough to put me on her reading list is pretty fucking awesome.
To find that out almost immediately after seriously considering whether I should be writing a blog? That's a killer sign to keep going, in my twisted brain. And for that I appreciate the moment.
And right after that, I received an email from one of my bestest peeps. You'll see WHY she's one of my best when you read said email below: (edited for squishiness, which I selfishly kept to myself in case I need a little "but you're fucking awesome and this is why" ego boost again):
Some people suck. And some people gargle donkey balls professionally. Like as their job. I know they're the worst and hard as shit to ignore (wow, this metaphor is falling apart fast) but just try to remember your better than them.
You don't suck.
You don't gargle donkey balls, neither professionally nor as a hobby. So far as I know.
You're Jess. And that kicks ass.
I'm Cait and I approve this message. (trying desperately to make you laugh at this point.)
With friends who remind me that I'm not gargling donkey balls, how could I possibly stop writing?
PS: This morning's list of "shit that happened" will be held for a future post, because I'm still laughing and wiping the coffee that just shot out my nose off my goddamn keyboard.
I had a mental-out yesterday and a whiny bitch-fest, and instead of telling me to suck it up I got some fantabulous comments: thank you. You guys are more awesome than unicorns and glitter.
(I had a neat pic here and realized it's not MINE to share on a blog...must investigate).
I also got two violently positive drop-kicks to my impending depression. Knocked that fucker right back into his hole.
First, I discovered I'm on someone else's blogroll. So what, you say? Well, being fairly easily excitable, I often squee in delight when this blog gets more than 100 views in a day (so far it's happened twice, and Husband texts "yay" and probably rolls his eyes behind his phone but that's ok: I know it's silly). I think it's ridiculously neat that I have a few regular readers (other than me, I mean).
In this case, it means a fucking HILARIOUS blogger reads my shit and likes it. (Seriously, go read her NOW. I'll wait. Try not to snort whatever you're drinking through your nose. I dare you.)
Every comment (good and bad, despite my rant yesterday) and every reader/follower matters to me. To find out someone is entertained enough to put me on her reading list is pretty fucking awesome.
To find that out almost immediately after seriously considering whether I should be writing a blog? That's a killer sign to keep going, in my twisted brain. And for that I appreciate the moment.
And right after that, I received an email from one of my bestest peeps. You'll see WHY she's one of my best when you read said email below: (edited for squishiness, which I selfishly kept to myself in case I need a little "but you're fucking awesome and this is why" ego boost again):
Some people suck. And some people gargle donkey balls professionally. Like as their job. I know they're the worst and hard as shit to ignore (wow, this metaphor is falling apart fast) but just try to remember your better than them.
You don't suck.
You don't gargle donkey balls, neither professionally nor as a hobby. So far as I know.
You're Jess. And that kicks ass.
I'm Cait and I approve this message. (trying desperately to make you laugh at this point.)
With friends who remind me that I'm not gargling donkey balls, how could I possibly stop writing?
PS: This morning's list of "shit that happened" will be held for a future post, because I'm still laughing and wiping the coffee that just shot out my nose off my goddamn keyboard.
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