A writer.

*This is a post for my NaNoWriMo 2014 attempt! It isn’t edited, except for the parsing down of thousands of words to a manageable size. Or a pretend manageable size. There are typos and missing words and potentially, the beginning of the post will have nothing to do with the end. But I remind you, “editing is for December.” So don’t judge too harshly, this is writing for writing’s sake! Enjoy!

 

People. I can’t tell you what a frustrating week it’s been at work. I’d love to rant and rave about it for hours (infact, my poor darling roommates have had to deal with my incoherent babbling all week, so appreciate your physical distance from me right now.)

But talking about what makes me angry just makes me angrier. Instead I’m going to try and focus on something positive. It’s sort of an assignment I got from work, actually, but it’s something I’ve alway wanted to write about.

How I became a writer.

Now, to clarify, I am not a writer.

Confusing, I know, but bear with me here.

Writing was what I best at in school. I’m talking since elementary school. The 5th grade, we were told to write a story that described what Jonas found in his hypothermic state, after leaving his hometown at the end of The Giver. My story was a description of assimilation into a society misunderstood by the main character, and a lack of acceptance of the unknown into the traditions of this new world. Age 11, people.

In the 6th grade, the creative writing prompt was picture-based; everyone pick one of these pictures and write a story to accompany it. Groans from all my classmates, and a 20-page story from me. 20 pages, for a 2-page assignment. I distinctly remember the picture but only vaguely remember the story I wrote. Up until that point, my favorite part of school had been reading, but I was beginning to separate the two crafts in my head – the difference between reading and writing. To me, they had always been two peas in a pod, one in the same. But now, they were beginning to seem like very different pastimes. Still pastimes though.

I struggled through high school math classes and excelled in english and came out on the positive side of average in everything else. In 9th grade, I scored 99 out of 100 on the English Regents Exam (an awful standardized test, for anyone who doesn’t live in NY.) I can also pinpoint exactly the singular question I got wrong; it was about a volcano…

Then came electives. OH GOSH, THE FREEDOM.

But what was left to me after deductively reasoning out math, science, business and marketing courses, “Family and Consumer Science,” technology education, extra social studies, additional music, expanded extra languages? English. Seven pages of english electives and only three years in which to take them. The course structure hasn’t changed much in the 5 years since I graduated, so reading straight from the handbook I found on Google, I can tell you I took Public Speaking, Children’s Literature (Kiddie Lit,) Suspense and the Supernatural, a Shakespeare course – there was little to no demand for it when I was there, so I’m not surprised it’s gone – and Intro to Journalism, also gone.

It was in my creative writing class that I found the release in storytelling. I learned about myself and my writing habits and how they differed from other people and I finally met some interesting characters in my own high school.

I met some writers. Some skilled, some pompous. My first introduction into the world of art and artists and the many lines drawn and crossed and erased and made up. I remember a ton of the people in that class by name and face and that’s saying a lot, seven years after the fact.

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NaNoWriMo is NaNoNOW

HELLO BLOG HOW ARE YOU, YOU LOOK SO LOVELY. I’ve missed you so. I think about you a lot. But it’s hard to focus on a relationship as important as this one, when we’re both so busy doing other things.

But it’s November, and that means NaNoWriMo! I wouldn’t do a good job of describing it in my own words, so, from the site itself;

crest-bda7b7a6e1b57bb9fb8ce9772b8faafbNational Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to creative writing. On November 1, participants begin working towards the goal of writing a 50,000-word novel by 11:59 PM on November 30.

Valuing enthusiasm, determination, and a deadline, NaNoWriMo is for anyone who has ever thought fleetingly about writing a novel.”

Now, I tried NaNo once before, sophomore year of college, when my best friends were all doing it because we were either journalism or creative writing majors, and it was in our very nature to spend our free time writing.

I didn’t finish. I didn’t even get halfway. I can’t even remember what I was writing about, if it was about anything at all. (NOTE: I TOTALLY REMEMBER NOW. That’s a story for a different day.) But I don’t follow through on well, most things I do. I have tons of [great?] ideas and sometimes they just fall short. I often put my job, my friends, my family, all before things that I want to accomplish or undertake. So that’s not surprsing, really.

But I’m going to attempt NaNo 2014, because my job is reaching new levels of crazy stressful and my friends are split between New York and Long Island and I miss my family more than ever before and money is tight what with paying rent for the first time in my life and incurring all my own bills [but Mooooooom.] The responsibilities just pile up and I need a way to unwind. I have some social reservations that keep me from engaging in certain activities that might help with the whole, chill the fuck out thing. Like the gym. I used to love working out, in college I really enjoyed playing sports (which I suck at) or going for a run (which I suck at) or spending an hour at the gym (which I just straight up don’t do) but, like I said, I’ve got some personal issues keeping me from doing these things.

So, where do I find my outlet?

GOD I'm so funny, how does anyone stand it?

GOD I’m so funny, how does anyone stand it?

We’ll I’m gonna give my blog another try. I definitely can’t say that I’ll have time to write everyday, considering it’s November 5th and only my second day of sitting down and writing. But I’m going to try. When inspiration strikes, instead of watching six episodes of Gilmore Girls I’ll write for as long as I can, about as much as I can, in the form of as many blog posts as I can.

There’s no theme, much like my blog now has no theme. Sorry rules of the internet. But I just can’t stick to a theme. I can’t pick a passion. One thing that I love above all else. So I’ll write about whatever my heart desires and anyone who doesn’t like it can bleep bleep bleep bleep you thought this was going to be something dirty, didn’t you. [Highlight to read.]

It’s for me. Kudos to my friends whose blog are about their passion or like, a really friggen terrific idea. I’m going to write posts about some of my potentially terrific ideas that I just can’t see through to the end, and maybe someone will steal them and I’ll be super jaded about it and life will get interesting.

But maybe not. For now, good luck to everyone doing NaNoWriMo! For the first time, for the millionth time, for those who will never finish and to those who already have (those people don’t exist.)

I hope to post as many relevant rants here as I can. Some may be more suited for my work blog, because we haven’t posted anything on that since July. Sad. So watch out for typos and mistakes and stupid fuck ups because remember, editing is for December. (I love that tagline. Totally brilliant.)

 

Wrap Up Thursday – Because why not, right?

Weird things that happened to me this week:

. I came home from Book Con on Saturday with Alyson (not the weird thing) and my roomie and her friend wanted to grab dinner, so I offered to drive because I was SO DONE with walking. Well, lucky I offered because when we arrived at my car on the next block over, the back driver’s side sliding door was wide open. Just chillin there. The last time I’d been in my car was Friday morning to get my umbrella, so potentially, it had been open and sitting on the street for over 24 hours. My front door was unlocked and ajar, and my glove compartment was open and a little disheveled. But fortunately I don’t own any nice things besides my computer, which I keep on my person at all times.

But dude, that was freaky. I literally thought someone was going to be in my car when I walked up to it.

In other news, it seems that my tiny dime collection for parking meters is uninteresting to thieves.

We are literally the cutest ever. And people at the con loved our shirts!

We are literally the cutest ever. And people at the con loved our shirts!

. Before that, I went to Book Con with the Bibliosmiles powerhouse girls, Danielle Alyson and Gaby. I won’t steal their thunder, they all wrote some fantastic things for BibS,  and you can read all about it here. Lemme just say, it was a fantastic day, even with the whole car thing.

. I wrote a post for Bibliosmiles! And I worked a little more on one that I’ve had brewing for a few weeks. It’s hard when you fall into a rut of un-creativity. But sometimes a little push is all you need. Danielle needed me to hit a deadline, and when I forced myself to finish the post, it made me feel like writing, even if it was about nothing, like this post is. It just makes you feel good, ya know?

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Dumb Phrases I Refuse to Google

And now, a series of phrases that confuse me but I have yet to bother looking up the origin of – 

“Shit-eating grin”

What even is a shit-eating grin? If I had to describe a shit-eating grin, I don’t think I could. Like, I don’t think I could draw one. It’s just a term I use to describe a grin that does not express a contagious-type of happiness. Plus I can’t draw. So whatever. 

“Fresher than a motherfucker” 

Literally, ew. But in terms of cultural context, when you call someone a motherfucker, it’s typically a bad thing, right? When you’re reading character dialogue and someone says, “You motherfucker!” -there’s a definite tone of anger in their voice, they despise them! And to be fresher than someone or something is to be better than them – being of a higher current social status. But isn’t everyone better than motherfuckers? They already suck!

Help me, Chris Brown, you’re my only hope.

#OhWaitDon’tIHateYou

#OhWaitDon’tIHateYou

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Hot Mess Drag Revue (No, I don’t mean me.)

So I am CLEARLY no good at keeping up with this blog. I try. I think about it all the time. I have ideas, I take pictures for the ideas, I tell my friends, “HEY, this would be SUCH a good idea!”

And then, nope. I sleep in. I go to lunch. I cook mac and cheese from the box for the third time in a week. I re-watch all the Project Freelancer seasons of Red Vs. Blue [spoiler.] There’s just always something right in front of my face that seems to take precedent.

So chronology is officially out the window as I’m just going to pick fun stories to recap for a while.

A few weeks ago, I went to a drag show! A handful of friends and I nabbed some Groupons to Hot Mess Drag Revue at XL Nightclub in Manhattan.

First off, you can tell a lot about a person by their reaction to the question, “Hey, wanna go to a drag show?”

For anyone who responds, “Uhm. No. That’s super weird,  I don’t get it and frankly it makes me uncomfortable.”

…ya know, you’ve probably already been offended by something I’ve said in the past, so I really don’t need to be addressing you.

For my friends and I, our eyes lit up at the potential hysteria and chaos analogous with a drag show. All too excited, we got super cute one Friday evening and made our way to NYC.

I'M TAKING A PICTURE, EVERYONE LOOK HAPPY.

I’M TAKING A PICTURE, EVERYONE LOOK HAPPY.

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BiblioSmiles – What Its Beautiful Beginnings Have Already Taught Me

“I don’t read anything anymore.”

That was my absolute first thought when Danielle told me the fabulous concept for BiblioSmiles back in January. BibS, as I like to refer to it, is a site dedicated to celebrate the joy of reading within an online community. It’s brand spanking new, but I see big things ahead for it. A ton of people have already submitted stuff like reviews and personal essays and even more have expressed interest in contributing. And oh man, I immediately wanted to be a part of it.

Seriously, it's the only thing I have.

Seriously, it’s the only thing I have.

My second thought was, “I have nothing to contribute.” I work at a PR and brand marketing company, where ‘office hours,’ are a joke, so I end up with a 60 hour work week stretched between HQ and home. How am I supposed to do a book review or talk about my favorite author when the last thing I read for pleasure was “The Year Ahead: 2014” edition of Bloomberg Businessweek?

So I provided my ‘professional’ opinion *cough* on things like contributors and blogging platforms and social media outlets and how her logo should be a replica of the Teletubbies Sun-Baby except with a picture of her shinning face. I know Gunnar put a lot of work into the current logo, but I still think mine had some potential.

So happy! Nicely done, sir.

So happy! Nicely done, sir.

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Next Week On, “My Life After Purchase”

I sort of can’t believe it’s February. So much has happened, so much is happening, so much is probably about to happen in the world that I just have no idea about cause it’s happening to people I don’t know or care about. Gosh, so much to take in.

Since my last post in *gasp* December, I’ve clearly moved up in my job. I’m not saying I’m any better at doing things, but I’m more confident about telling people what I think and having my opinions promptly rejected. Hey, whatever, at least I’m trying. I’ve been invited to two, that’s right, TWO, big, important, boss-type meetings. To take notes, mostly, but I was there! And I cracked some jokes!

Even on break, the room still looks important.

Even on break, the room still looks important.

I’M SO IMPORTANT, PEOPLE, HOW CAN YOU EVEN STAND TO BE AROUND ME.

In what I guess is bigger news, I’m moving. Like moving out.

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Will Work for Cute Boots

Seasons Greetings! Hope Santa was good to everyone this holiday!

And for those who don’t celebrate Christmas, sucks to suck. Though I thank the Lord for Judaism, as it means my boss took these two weeks off from work and jetted to Tel Aviv for a big family vaca. I’ve been chillin on LI, hanging out with friends, catching up on some much-needed me time (a.k.a. sleep) and being surprisingly productive.

I got three pairs of boots for Xmas because I am a fiend for a horseback riding ensemble and let me tell you NOT ONE OF THEM FIT MY NEWLY RIPENED CALVES.

No really, look at them.

No really, look at them.

I don’t know what happened people, but my previously 15-inch calf decided to balloon out to just over 17 1/2 inches, and I am not happy because tall boots make me happy and I can’t wear tall boots. So after crying over my new Madden Girl Brown Zuzu’s, I got my ass on the treadmill this morning, had a salad for dinner, and threw in some squats for good measure.

Squats BUST my knees, because my mother’s entire family has either had a knee replacement or have their sites set on one. My mother actually just got her second knee replacement in early December.

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“No” Doesn’t Mean Anything on a Friday Night

CHRIST ON A CRACKER, PEOPLE, LET ME TELL YOU A STORY.

So Chelsea, Emily and I go out for a few drinks Friday night, celebrating something, who really cares. After margaritas at a Columbian restaurant, we head to a bar we like. But there’s a cover for some crappy live music, and everyone in there looks like they have fathered many children, so we move on.

Next on our list is the Half-Penny Pub in Sayville, which has a cool setup and a lively atmosphere. The bartender is busy, but fun, attentive and good for a suggestion. We’re having a good time just the three of us, observing, drinking, chatting at the bar.

SuperKim

SuperKim

Enter Vinny and Frank. Vinny is an older dude. Frank is a younger, much drunker dude. The matchups have been decided – Vinny vs. Emily. Frank vs. Chelsea. Kim vs. The World.

To get right to the good part, Vinny buys Em a shot despite her saying, “I’m okay, got a full beer right in front of me.” (I decline the shot, I’m driving.) After the shot and some chatting, Vinny thinks he’s being slick when he leans behind Emily and begins his play with, “So, hypothetical situation-”

“A guy at a bar thinks this girl is cute, buys her a drink, and wants to get her number, but really wants her friends’ approval first.”

I made him repeat himself, because doesn’t that always piss you off? When you think you’re being cool and someone doesn’t understand you? “Wait, what?” So he repeats himself. And during his second run through Emily starts grabbing my knee, so the end game here is clear. This is my favorite part – where I get to be a bitch and there will be no repercussions. If I do a good job at being a bitch, I even get thanked for it. What could be better?

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Airport Diner

Late last night, after a very long day, my darling Chelsea and I went to a nearby diner to simultaneously grab food and be productive.  I had a huge report to finish for work and she had a math final to study for.

Though we got to the diner at about 8 p.m. or so, the following is a transcript of the most eventful portions of the evening.

Scene: Me on my laptop, though admittedly I don’t look like I’m doing work as I am on Twitter and Facebook tracking social media mentions.  Chelsea’s notebook and math notes are strewn about.  Quesadilla remnants and coffee cups litter the table.
 9:00 p.m.

Chelsea, who cannot focus for anything (too much caffeine probably,) settles on her mantra, repeating it to give her strength:

1-Do the stuff

2-Learn the things

3-Not fail the test

book

Aggressive.

9:17 p.m.

Mantra is slightly altered:

1-Do some of the stuff

2-Learn a few of the things

3-Consider not failing the test

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