I Did It!! Take Two

10,166 words in about 6 hours, and the novel is actually Done.

Story arc complete.

I so totally rock.

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head...

Or, more accurately, on the porch several feet away, safely seperated from my nice cozy dining room by a set of sliding glass doors.

But the sentiment is still the same, or something.

At any rate, it's the last day of my visit to PA, and the first day on which I have nothing in particular planned--no visits with friends, no major holidays, no Black Friday visits to the mall, or Post Black Friday returns to the mall to tell Lens Crafters they screwed up the prescription in my new glasses--and, somewhat appropriately, it is pissing down rain, further cementing my resolve to not leave the house unless absolutely necessary.

What, then, is a girl to do?

I could be responsible and attempt to work on Thesis, which I have yet to do on this vacation. I could sit down with Photoshop and the cast pictures I took of the kiddos and get to editing, since I promised I'd have them ready by, oh, tomorrow.

Or, I could attempt the ultimate act of insanity and attempt to finish my NaNo Novel.

True, I've already crept across the 50K finish line, but it kinda bugs me that the story itself isn't complete. Judging by the length of the rest of the novel, I could probably finish out the story arc in about 10K words, and since I average roughly 2K an hour, if I were to start now and break only for lunch, I could probably finish up before dinnertime.

Madness?

Uh, yeah.

Am I gonna try it?

Bet your ass.

I Did It!!

 

Despite myriad distractions and life constantly trying to get in the way... I did it!  I wrote 50K words in 29 days.  Phew!

And the most ridiculous part of it all?  The story isn't even *done*!  I was so worried that I didn't have enough story to make it to 50K that I padded the beginning with all sorts of unnecessary stuff--and here I am at 50K and the most significant part of the story hasn't even been written yet!

Nothing for it but to keep going, and then go back when it's all done and weed out the fluff.

Right now I'm just going to bask in the afterglow.  Weeding can wait until after December 15th.

The Ties That Bind

Growing up, I always wanted to be Cyd Charisse.  Here's one half of why:



And if you're not convinced, here's the other:



There are things we always think of as inheriting from our families.  Our eyes.  Our hair.  Our allergies and our back problems.

But there's something else that we rarely think of.  Our loves.

Tonight, while taking a bathroom break from family movie night, I began singing "Gotta Pee!" (to the tune of "Gotta Dance," above), which is not an unknown phenomenon in our house, and it immediately made me want to watch "Singing' in the Rain."  So I made the request and my parents obliged.

I was raised by my parents, my mother especially, to love old Hollywood musicals.  I think "Singing' in the Rain" was my first ever movie obsession.  When my family first got a VCR, and before "Labyrinth" came into my life, I would watch it every day. It was slowly supplanted by "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers," but even so, "Singin'" was always the foremost of movie musicals in my world.

About 30 seconds into the 700th or so watching this evening, I remembered why.

I know that loving this film, and others of its era, and desperately wishing that I had a fraction of the talent of Gene Kelly, or Donald O'Connor, or, of course, Cyd Charrise, is part and parcel to being part of my family.  Just like the large, deep-set eyes and the fast metabolism.

And truly?  I wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Happy Thanksgiving to all the American readers out there... and really, to everybody, because thankfulness should not be limited by nationality.

In addition to fabulous friends and family, here are a few things I am thankful for at this moment:

• My train back to PA was not Standing Room Only this year.
• Pouring over mail order catalogues with my mother, marking stuff we want for Christmas... before the turkey is even out of the oven.
• Watching "Futurama" with my dad over beers at 1:30am, and making him laugh when I referred to the "Girls Gone Wild" commercial shown twice every commercial break as "Underage Boobfest."
• Stripey pajama pants from Peru.
• Whatever university's marching band is currently playing "Rodeo" in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
• The smell of turkey.
• My mom actually remembering to buy my cranberry sauce this year (I'm the only one who eats it).
• Game Night with some of my Girls, where my BFF and I came back from way behind to kick ass at "Cranium: Pop."
• A shower with water pressure.
• Furry llama slippers.
• Fresh cinnamon rolls.
• Only a little over 7k words to go on my NaNo.
• Only 2 1/2 weeks left to go in my Masters Degree... actually, let's file that under "Thankful-But-Terrified," shall we?

And of course there's much, much more... but I need to shower and churn out a thousand words or so before family time begins :)

Hope everyone has a fabulous day, holiday or not!

Sloth

I just went shopping because I am out of clean clothes and have neither the time nor the inclination to do laundry between now and my 9:30am train to PA tomorrow.

Unfortunately, I did not buy underwear. Guess I'll be washing those in the sink.

Nothing like going home for the holidays with a suitcase full of dirty laundry!

Mom and Dad will be so proud.

A New York Kind of Day

Yesterday was a good day.

After closing down the show with the kiddos on Saturday, I made my way home and got a loooong (and much needed) night's sleep, awaking early on Sunday to head into Manhattan and get a student rush ticket to see August: Osage County--partly because I've been wanting to see it, and partly because I have a response paper due tomorrow the subject of which is a play written in the past 25 years.

The thing with student rush tickets is that you have to show up and get them right when the box office opens, which is at noon, and the show doesn't start until 3:00. So, after procuring my ticket (for the amazingly affordable price of $29.50), I decided to head uptown and spend a few hours in the Natural History Museum.

In retrospect, I think I chose that museum (as opposed to, say, the Guggenheim) because it's the one that my uncle would have enjoyed most.

I spent a few happy hours wandering around the fourth floor, oooh-ing and aaaah-ing over dinosaur bones like a little kid (though to be honest, most of the little kids I encountered were more of the shrieking variety than the oooh-and-aaah variety). I also checked out a temporary exhibit on horses that, geek that I am, I found totally fascinating. I need to go back for the live reptile exhibit before it closes!

There were no photos allowed in the Horses exhibit, but here are some dino bones for you to enjoy:

 

My favourite dinosaur!!

 
 

Hello!

 
 

Not as scary as the one in Toys R Us

Note to Winter visitors:  The coat check at the Natural History Museum may only cost $2, but the line takes forever on Sundays!  I thought I was going to be late for the show!

Fortunately I made it back to Times Square with a few minutes to spare and was able to grab a mediocre slice at a pizza place around the corner from the theatre (I hadn't eaten all day) and still make it to my seat with enough time to browse the bios in the Playbill before the show started.

The show itself was FANTASTIC. Excellent script, excellent cast--Estelle Parsons (Roseanne's mom on "Roseanne"), who recently took over the lead, is freaking AMAZING--and the set design, a whole three story house on stage!, is also brilliant. The whole thing, in fact, is brilliant. I highly recommend anyone who is in the New York area and has a chance to see it do so immediately.

And of course, nothing would top off a quintessential day in New York without some craziness on the subway--this one in the form of some random guy chatting a stranger's ear off about real Jamaican jerk seasoning (the guy was white as snow) and how there was a massive UFO sighting in Staten Island two weeks before 9/11, so the two are obviously related... he was still talking when he got off the train three stops later. Alone.

All in all, it was a good day. And just what I needed after the lunacy of last week, and before diving into the lunacy that the rest of the semester holds in store.


On a completely different note, thank you, everyone, for your kind words and thoughts regarding my uncle. I've heard from both of my cousins and they seem to be coping as well as can be expected. Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers, I certainly am. As for me, I'm still trying to figure out how to grieve, but I think the museum was a start.

...

My mom called a little while ago, just as I was sitting down and preparing to be productive, with some bad news.

My uncle died from an overdose.

He was family by marriage, and he and my aunt have been divorced for many years. He had a lot of issues and could never seem to get his shit together (see above), at least, never for very long.

After the divorce, I think I was the only member of the former in-laws who didn't completely write him off. The last time I saw him was at my cousin's wedding, but I would always ask about him, wanted to know how he was doing. Sure, he was a fuck-up, but he was also funny as hell and incredibly smart, and I always loved being around him. When he was sober. And while his actions were never the best illustration of it, I know he loved his kids.

And today, it's his kids--my cousins--that are in my thoughts.

They've had it rough over the years, dealing with a father whose life is continually falling into a shambles, who could never be relied on for, well, anything. Neither of them talk about it much, but I know it's taken its toll. And to have it end like this, right before Thanksgiving, and with some other lurid details that I do not care to share with the internet at large, well... this makes me, personally, angrier than I've ever been with him. For not being able to get it together for the sake of his kids and grandkids, to leave them with this as the final memory of their father. It leaves me with a heavy heart, and no idea what to do or say for either of them, other than to let them know that they are both in my thoughts.

And while I hope that my uncle has now found the peace he couldn't find in life, my greater concern is for the peace of those who were left behind to pick up the pieces.

Today and every day I will be sending them my positive thoughts and love, and cling tight to the hope that, like all of the bombshells life drops in our laps, this too shall pass...

300!

My three-hundredth post!!

And a very anti-climactic one it shall be, because I? Am Wiped. Out.

I stayed out too late last night celebrating a friend's birthday, and had an 11am call time for a two-show day with the kiddos. I walked into the dressing room and the following conversation ensued:

Kids: Wow, Froggy, you look really tired!
More Kids: Yeah, you do! You look tired!
Me: Great guys, thanks for letting me know I look like shit this morning.
Costume Lady: (laughs)
Another Kid: Your hair looks hot though.

Ahhh... my teenagers. How I shall miss them!

Wah

I didn't even cry this much when the Steelers lost to the Patriots in the playoffs in '02.

Sexy Wishes: A Meme

The ever-girly (despite what the Gender Analyzer may say!) Princess of the Universe tagged, well, everyone for a meme... and since she turned it into a contest, how could I refuse?

The rules:

1. Post three "sexy" wishes.
2. Link back to the tagger (done).

Sexy wishes are easy, being that I haven't gotten any in quite awhile (and haven't gotten any that was actually worth the effort in even longer!), so here goes!

1. I would like to have sex again before the end of 2008. Preferably with a man who knows what he is doing and that I will still find attractive when I am sober.
   
2. I would like to find a man who actually appreciates my lingerie collection, so that I can torture him by prancing around the apartment in it but not letting him touch me until after dinner/movie/game-of-scrabble/whatever is over.
3. I would like someone to invent a toy that runs on solar power, because nothing is more frustrating at the end of a long day than dead batteries! Plus, I've given up hiding mine, since no man has entered my bedroom since I moved into this apartment, so it just sits on the windowsill in the sun all day. Perfect!

There it is! I have decided to tag Deutlich, Ashley, and Sequined, because I have a feeling their answers will be the most entertaining... should they chose to do it.

No pressure ladies :)

On a side note, it's 1:00am and weird techno organ music has been coming up through my floor since I got home at 8:30. I'm not sure what to make of that.

I imagine it's going to make sleep difficult.

On the bright side, I got my NaNo novel over 35K! Coming up the home stretch! The rest of my life is still in shambles, but I'm celebrating the small victories.

Exquisite Pressure

A book I'm reading for my newly-revamped-thesis-project uses the term "Exquisite Pressure" to define a working environment where people are given just enough time to create something they can truly own, without having time to judge or over-analyze. While this particular book refers specifically to an artistic/theatrical setting, I think the term could be applied anywhere that deadlines occur--office projects, school papers, etc.

The pressure I'm feeling right now, however? Is most definitely not Exquisite.

I have so much to do, so much to think about, and I'm having a very difficult time prioritizing.

The show with the kids opens in 2 days, so that, obviously, demands a good deal of my attention. The time commitment is finite, but the mental commitment is infinitely more extensive.

I've got that job audition next Tuesday and need to create a lesson for it, for which I need to do some research. As this is the most proximal deadline, it should probably be at the top of my priority list... but that would involve actually being able to make a priority list!

My play (or the 10 minutes of it being read aloud in class) doesn't have to be complete until mid-December, but I need to give my actor requirements to my professor by the end of the week.

My NaNo novel is falling by the wayside a bit this week, but I've got 31k words written, and I think I'll be able to get a lot done while I'm in PA for Thanksgiving and am not afforded the myriad distractions that can be found in my apartment.

And then, of course, there's Thesis. Honestly, other than reading some background material while traveling on the subway, I am thinking very little about Thesis this week. I'll worry about it when this show is over.

I also need to find time to bake some more baguettes, as I'm going to run out soon and that will definitely make me cranky.

Finally, to top it all off, I totally broke down and cried last night over this whole Slater situation. As much as I just want to be Capital-A-Angry about being so unceremoniously friend-dumped, the overwhelming emotion I am feeling over all of this is Hurt. I have apparently lost one of my best friends, and I have absolutely no idea why. And that... sucks.

The gifts I brought for him from Peru just sit there on my dresser, taunting me. What am I supposed to do with them? I can't give them to someone else, nor can I throw them away. Part of me just wants to mail them to him to get them out of my house, but do I include a note? Gah!

And of course, now my paranoid mind is reading into all of our mutual friendships as well... like the fact that B (formerly known as Maybe Crush, remember him?) hasn't written back to an email I sent several days ago. He's *always* slow to respond, but now of course I'm wondering if Slater has said something about me to make him not want to talk to me.

Clearly, my paranoia is still in High School.

It's just the icing on the cake of an already stressful month, and I wish I could just let go, but really... how can you just let go when someone you trust hurts you? When someone whose support you genuinely needed just up and decides they don't have time for you?

If you know, please... do share.

Pet Peeve of the Day

People who are surprised when the subway starts moving.

That's what it's THERE FOR!!

Freaking morons.

(And no, at 12pm in the middle of Brooklyn on the most useless train in the entire system--which doesn't even go to Manhattan--they are NOT tourists. They're just idiots.)

*sigh*

It's been a long freaking day.

Food Porn

On Saturday, I did not go to rehearsal. My voice was shot and it seemed silly to go when I couldn't speak--which turned out to be a wise decision as my hangover was of the late-breaking variety and I spent the better part of the afternoon feeling like ass and berating myself for my own irresponsibility.

I did, however, bake a TON of bread.

Aside from making this (which, incidentally, is much simpler to make than it looks):

I also made a ton of baguettes and part-baked them.  Which means, essentially, that you take the bread out of the oven halfway through the baking process, when just a few little spots of brown have begun to appear on the crust, and let them cool.  You then wrap them in parchment paper and plastic wrap and stick them in the freezer.

So, whenever you want a freshly-baked baguette (or whatever kind of bread you've made), you just take one out of the freezer and pop it in the oven.

And let me tell you, taking this:

 

(I was trying to capture the steam rising off of the bread... you can sort of see it in front of the jar of mustard lurking in the background.)

And slathering it with butter, dijon mustard, cave-aged gruyere, and some sort of fancy ham that's sort of like prosciutto, but less salty?

I'm not sure there's anything better.

Oh, and if you save back the tail end of the baguette to smother in Nutella for dessert... that's pretty sweet too :)

Thank You Keith Olberman

For anyone who hasn't seen this yet, I think it may be the most emotionally and intellectually compelling argument I have yet heard on the issue.

"...because this is the only world we have, and the other guy counts too."

Well said, Keith. Well said.

Cause for Ambien

This afternoon I sent out an invite on Facebook to NYC friends--mostly people in my program--to come see the show I've been working on with the kids for the past two months.

About half-way home on the subway this evening, it occurred to me: I didn't remember adding Slater to the list.

So when I got home, I logged onto Facebook... and he's no longer on my friends list.

I ran a search, and found two accounts with his name. One in Boston, and one with no photo or info. Then, like, an hour later I got a Facebook email from a friend about her birthday... and his name was on the list of people it had been sent to. But unlike all the other names, it wasn't linked so I couldn't click on it to get to a profile.

So... what gives? Is there some strange glitch in the Matrix, or have I officially been de-friended for some transgression of which I am completely unaware?

As if I didn't have enough on my mind already.

Christ, I'm never going to get to sleep tonight.

Ugh.

It was several.

I am not hungover in the traditional sense (yet. It could be one of those sneaky late-breaking hangovers, we'll see), but I am very tired and my voice is shot to hell.

While I had a great time waxing philosophical with the Lovely A about how we don't really smoke anymore--over half a pack of American Spirits--I am now in no way prepared to face my day, and all the lunacy that it holds in store.

I'm hoping a trip to McDonald's before rehearsal will fix that.

T.G.I... What day is it again?

Good grief, this month is slipping away from me faster than I thought possible! Which on one hand is a good thing, as my life will feel far less lunatic once November is over... on the other hand, the reason my life is so lunatic is that I've got a million things to do before the month is up and the days just keep disappearing!

Like, just for example, the paper that I realized only moments ago is due TOMORROW. Granted, it's a 2 page response to a storytelling performance I attended--a pittance in the world of academic writing. But I attended it last week. Let's hope my memory and the notes I took hold up until I get a chance to write that paper tomorrow morning.

Because right now? Tonight? I am going for a drink. Or several. Probably several, considering I am meeting the Lovely A, and it has long since been proven that "just one" is not in our vocabulary. Case in point, the last time she and I met up for a casual drink on a Friday ended up with me pouring her into a taxi at 4am, after speaking to her boyfriend on the phone to assure him that yes, she would be getting home okay. Why was I the one to determine this? I'm not sure, as I was certainly in no state to be making judgment calls... but I digress.

That being said, before Tuesday the 25th I need to:

1. Write 2 response papers.

2. Find time to see a play, written in the last 25 years, about which to write the second response paper.

3. Survive Hell Week for the play with the kiddos. (6 days with no less than 4 hours of rehearsal on each given day, oh my lord).

4. Come up with a 15 minute lesson covering some aspect of Shakespeare's plays as, hello! I have an audition for the one company in NYC that I would kill to work with!!. And I have a week to plan for it.

5. Nail that job audition.

Then, after the 25th, there's...

- Thanksgiving

- NaNoWriMo (I past the 25k mark! Halfway there!)

- Oh, right, THESIS!!

- And a play. That I have to write. For a grade.


Needless to say, this little frog is feelin' da pressure. Hence the drinking.

Happy Weekend!

Battle Chicken Part II: Thanksgiving

(Narrated by the late Don Lafontaine)

This Thanksgiving...




One Chicken... will take a stand...

 

And... LOSE.

To the victor go the spoils, on... Thanksgiving.

 

Coming soon, to a table near you.

___________
Original post can be found here.

Sleeping Strange

I knew I was in for it last night when, every time I was on the verge of falling asleep, my whole body would jerk violently, waking me up. I have no idea how I finally managed to fall asleep, but I knew that my subconscious had it in for me.

First...

I was waiting for an elevator with some of the characters from Gossip Girl, theoretically to go home (because in my dreams I get to live in classy buildings with elevators). That's when I started falling over. I'd lose my balance, start drifting backwards, then my legs would give and I'd go crashing into a wall or whoever happened to be standing behind me (well hello there Chuck Bass! How are you this evening?). Every time the elevator arrived, someone would hit the Close Door button, waiting for me to get it together. My mind was completely alert, but I had no control over my limbs.

Then...

I was in my parents' backyard, getting ready to sleep in a tent (that had screened walls, a nice bed, and a flat screen TV). Only it wasn't really my parents' backyard, it just looked like it. A shady figure snuck out from behind my neighbor's hideously ugly hedge and suddenly I KNEW he was there to kill me. Only he didn't. As I sprawled flat on the ground, hoping not to be noticed--while wearing lingerie and thigh-high fishnet stockings... why?--he crept into another screen-walled tent, this one containing a refrigerator, some shelves, and a stainless steel table. He opened the fridge to return some bread dough that I'd left at the Gossip Girl & Co apartment. That's right, the strange sneaking man was bringing me dough.

Then...

Floodlights came on, helicopters appeared, and a man in military garb appeared with his retinue atop my parents porch. Orders in Spanish were echoing from a bullhorn mounted on the helicopter as military personal poured into the yard from around the hedge and the sides of the house. I was screaming "Digame en Ingles!" and crying...

Then...

I woke up, went to the bathroom, got a drink of water, and fell fitfully back to sleep.

Where...

I was at rehearsal with my kids, where I had inexplicably brought a tray of bread dough that was rising (notice a theme here?). Rehearsal ran over and I was going to be late for a hair appointment, so I rushed out and across the street where there is a kitchen-supply store--to buy tupperware to safely carry the rising dough to my hair appointment--only when I got outside, the store was no longer there and the street was lined by several surly fabric merchants. I kept walking up and down the street, as though that would make the store magically reappear, until finally giving up and going back down to the rehearsal room, where the dough had meanwhile gone bad.

Next...

I was still determined to make it to my hair appointment. I took the inexplicably pristine subway one stop (again, why?) then got out to find a taxi, ending up with a non-yellow cab who said he would take me for $3. I got in the back and sat down and zoned out, only to snap back to myself a few minutes later and realize we hadn't moved, the driver was outside talking to his buddies! I yelled at him to hurry up, that I was late, so he got in the car and we started driving...

Suddenly...

I was in the back seat of a different car, filled with other people--some who I know from the real world, others complete figments of my imagination. We were driving through brown dirt mountains, sort of like that opening segment in "The Shining," only not as creepy. This was an off-shoot trip of some sort of camp or retreat, and we were going to... a nudist resort. Yes. We were staying for several nights, but as we pulled into the parking lot I realized that I hadn't brought anything with me other than the clothes on my back. We entered the resort, which was mostly a bunch of big crazy swimming pools, and almost immediately lost track of each other. Though it was supposed to be a nudist resort, very few people were actually naked. The two "real world" friends stripped down and jumped into the pool (although one kept his shirt on, which he always does at the beach. Shirt and no pants, gotta love it), and I followed suit, though I ended up just hanging onto the ledge and watching the crowd--until a little girl came up to me and asked if I had "girl parts," at which point I left the pool. The sun set almost instantly and it got cold. I asked the resort manager where my room was and he loaded me into a car to drive me to a neighboring Holiday Inn style hotel...

Where...

I encountered another friend, who was inexplicably excited that this hotel had overnight-train-style bathrooms where you showered over the toilet.

Then...

I woke up.

__________
I was reading this book before I went to bed, which explains all of the bread references, but as to the rest of it.... wtf??