I actually like the pep talks in every Halls drop. They are supposed to make you get better faster, but wouldn’t it be cool if there was a hidden pep talk in every little thing we picked up? Like if we saw a penny on the ground, we could pick it up and there’d be a pep talk hidden on one side of the coin. That penny would be worth more than one cent in my opinion.
Winning the lottery would be like me getting to go to Victoria’s Secret and splurging and not feeling guilty about it. Wait, if I won the lottery, I could do that. (Oh YuMin. You are a genius.) Wait again. Isn’t part of splurging not feeling guilty about spending the money? (I’m redundant.)
I can’t believe there were examples of girls in “Mean Girls” where they wore lingerie as part of their Halloween costume. Well, it is a satire. At least, that’s what I like to call the movie. I laugh in my head every time I see the word “lingerie” because I used to pronounce it “lean-jerry.” (Am I using my quotation marks right?) Is it a French word? It looks like it is French.
The little bit of French I know I learned from Michelle Branch. Well, not directly from her, obviously, but from listening to her records.
Urban Outfitters carries vinyl records and every time I see them I think of how cumbersome it must be to have those around, but how nifty they look.
So over the weekend I identified for sure my two loaded questions: how are you? and how’s your writing going?
The first one I appreciate, but find annoying to answer; the second one I find aggravating to no end.
I always lie when I answer the first question and never reveal how I’m actually doing so I don’t have to elaborate. The second one I usually get tricked into revealing too much than I meant to about what I’m working on so I try to avoid altogether by either changing the subject or now recently just awkwardly telling the interrogator I don’t really tell people about my writing process.
I try to think of something witty to say every time you come near me, but I end up with a pounding heart and a frozen mouth. I’m hoping you can’t tell how nervous you make me, but sometimes all it takes is for a little pink to show to give me away. And after all this time, months and months, seeming like years and years, yet like nothing at all, you still make me feel this way. I want to stop before I sound like a repetitive pop love song, but it doesn’t seem possible. So I keep going, day after day, hoping you will come over, yet not really, not wanting to talk to you, but hoping you can read my mind, that my sign of no attraction is a sign of attraction. I don’t want to have to spell it out for you, I just want you to already know. I make no sense at all, but I’m hoping that makes absolute sense to you.
Screw it all. You try to eat healthy and exercise to stay in shape and then you lose out on writing time. You try to maximize your writing time by setting goals and meeting a word count every day and then you lose out on staying in shape. It’s one or the other. You can’t please everybody or you’ll turn into a donkey. I’ll just get fat and TB and write the best novel I have written in a long time and then croak and only become famous posthumously because I couldn’t do it all. That’s in right now, isn’t it?
There are times when I sit down to write and just want to scream my head off, not because I have writer’s block (even though sometimes I want to react like that too when I do), but because all of a sudden I am thinking about something that irks me like this morning when I was unable to disable Skype from my email. It’ll be something out of my control for the moment and it’ll just bother me and bother me until either I figure it out or turn to writing and just want to scream my head off.
I think this feeling is akin to wanting to win every time you do something that has a win or lose outcome or wanting to do something new right the very first time you do it. I suppose I have those flaws too now that I think about it. The perfectionist in me won’t stop clawing at me like a grizzly bear protecting its cubs from a hunter. I can even play dead and it won’t go away. (It’s very possible I saw The Revenant today.) The stubborn in me becomes defensive and I lash out, regretting it immediately. My thoughts are not just screaming at this point–they want to be let out and do a Show and Tell until understanding is achieved. Chicken would be involved.
My character doesn’t accept defeat. That one is a strength and a weakness. (My, that would be a fun interview question answer now wouldn’t it?) My character keeps her mouth shut when she should have said something, but there were so many thoughts running through her brain it was easier to stay silent because she didn’t want to confuse anyone even though mainly she’s just confusing herself. And hurting herself. And sometimes dragging others with her unintentionally by remaining quiet.
I like to solve problems, but when there’s something I can’t fix within the time limit, let the banshee loose and rip up the cash.
There are times I want to leave where I am and go live somewhere far away from rules. I want to escape to some exotic island where it’s sunny most of the time, peaceful, and I can do whatever I want without worrying about paying the bills, driving from place to place, and not feel judged for doing whatever I want. No thoughts about planning for the future. That’s not allowed on this island.
I burned my hand this morning at work so tonight I had an emergency Eminem party. I think that’s a pretty good reward for my left hand that I had to leave out the shower like I’m the Statue of Liberty or something. Oh wait. I think she had her right hand up. Well, that’s okay because you know what I mean. There’s a red mark where the hot water burned me. Too bad there wasn’t any aloe around, but at least there was cold water I could wash it with. And that’s not all the burn left behind. Now I’m left wondering if this burn is supposed to be some sort of life metaphor related to what’s currently going on in my life. Or maybe I just need to be more careful. 😛