My goodness. It's been a long time since I poked my head in here and even longer since I've written anything IRL. I'm sad about it, really.

I goof off far too much, and yet I have nothing to show for it. One endless round of school and home after another, taking care of Schmoo (26 months old!), seeing my brother get married and settled in...it's all so boring. I'm so, so, so grateful for the life I'm living--I know I have opportunities other people would kill for--but I feel unsatisfied. I need to be creative. I need to do something new.

Maybe I'm too isolated. Maybe that's part of my problem.

Is it masochism or just insanity? I'll know by November 30.

Makes sense, I guess. I like my Snape ugly, greasy, and bad tempered. He's dead sexy already...well, I'd shag him, anyway.

I'm so disappointed in myself. I got sick--3 days of misery followed by 1 day of exhaustion--and stopped writing my novel completely. Writing seemed impossible; all I wanted to do was sleep. I feel better today, but now I'm overwhelmed by how far behind I am. I should be around 14000 words. Instead, I'm under 6000.

I don't want to quit. I'm not a quitter, and I've been looking forward to this for a long time. I love my idea and my character. Val has developed so much life! I love her voice and the way she tries to be strong but so often feels vulnerable. The story is plotted. Scene after scene is waiting to be written. It would be a waste to abandon it.

Okay, I won't give up. My chances of reaching 50k in November aren't as good as they were a week ago, but I still have hope. Sheesh, I need to remember that my ultimate goal was 100,000 to 125,000 words anyway. When I hit December 1, I plan to just keep writing.

I love nanowrimo.

So far, I've written close to 4000 words, so I'm doing all right. I'd really like to be at 6000 before the end of the day (as per my 2000 words/day goal), but I don't think I'm going to make it. I'm getting sick. In hopes that I'll get better rather than worse, I'm taking it easy today.

It's going well though. Chapter one is done, and chapter two is chock full of action and ready to burst free. It's such a relief to be writing. It's been roughly two years since my original fic muse has come to visit me. Even my fanfic muse has been mostly silent. So I'm happy.

I feel like my soul is waking up. Suddenly I have so many ideas, where before I had only emptiness. It's wonderful, really. After Nano, I have multiple projects waiting, mostly original fiction. I want to write my Harry/Draco epic, though. I've had the idea for over two years, and it's starting to twitch, demanding attention.

I'm in a good place. I just wish I felt better. I'd set "sick" as my mood icon, but I can't stand that barfy head--yuck!

Schmoo is crawling. Yay! It started out as a kinda bunny-hop, both legs lifted up and pulled forward together. Cute as hell, but he kept falling on his face. Today he finally figured out how to move his legs independently. He's very happy about it, too.

Only 11 days until Nano. I still have so much to do. Plus, I just found out I need to make a trip to Dallas, and my brother is coming down here for a long weekend. I'm starting to get worried about finding the time to write. To make matters worse, for some reason Schmoo won't sleep in his crib. Every night, between 10:30 and 1:00, he wakes up, stands up, and starts screaming. I've been putting him in bed with me, just to get him to fall back to sleep. I'm so zonked, I can't wake up early (as I've been training myself to do). Suddenly 50k words in November is looking like a real challenge.

October is half over. I'm not quite where I want to be on my nano planning. I sorta thought I'd have an outline done by now. On the other hand, I'm afraid of burning out. That is, finishing my outline and then spending the last week of October twiddling my thumbs and losing all my enthusiasm. However, I now have 2 weeks (give or take). I need to get crackin'.

It's wonderful to have my muse back. I've missed her so. Apparently, her 2 year vacation has been good for her. She's so tan! And I love her new haircut.

Rainy weekend here, and I'm a happy girl. Something about rain is so exciting. I've never been able to describe it, but it's simultaneously soothing and stimulating to me. Those people who get depressed when it rains just confuse me. I am staying in, though, rather than taking Schmoo out in it. He just got over being sick, so I feel like I can't expose him to the damp.

My big plans this weekend were to buy Schmoo a halloween costume and take him for photos at a pumpkin patch, which it's too wet to do anyway. I have admitted defeat: I won't be sewing the teddy bear costume I had intended to make. I'm just too ignorant and have too much going on. I bought so much fabric, however, it will keep for next year.

( Schmoo brag )

I have it bad. I can tell the NaNoWriMo forums will be the death of my Nano novel if I dare to go there during November. I need to spend less time socializing and more time outlining my novel. If I do to much now, however, and then try not to work on it until November, I think my enthusiasm will burn out. I don't want to get burnt out, no matter what. I'm saving the lion's share of my plotting and outlining for the last 2 weeks of October. Must...be...disciplined...

I feel so bleah, lately. Maybe I'm not getting out of the house enough. I don't know. I do need to go to the local college with my transcript and get enrolled. Registration is in mid-November, and I want to handle it all quickly and easily on the net, so I need to hammer out my schedule and get any advising I need out of the way now. Plus, there's financial aid to think about. It's all exciting, but at the same time not. Going to the campus for all this with Schmoo in tow is going to be a hassle, too.

Yawn. How dull am I? I need to do something to shake myself up. I have an idea for a Charlie/Pansy drabble. Maybe I should write that today.

This really interests me. As I wrote previously, I'm surprised at the lack of canon Pansy Parkinson information. This rant on J.K. Rowling's website was mentioned during an online discussion about underweight supermodels. I agree with everything Queen Jo says, but what I find most interesting is the mention of the merits of being Hermione vs being Pansy at the end. I now have a very clear image of Miss Parkinson.

J.K. Rowling's official site

Supermodels infuriate me, btw. If I have to hear one more aphid-shaped woman say she's 'just tall' and that she just has a 'fast metabolism,' I'll be sick. If they were black and wearing rags in Africa instead of white and wearing designer fashions in Milan, the UN would be airlifting them famine relief. Plus, I personally feel it's incorrect to call them women, anyway. Real women have breasts, hips, and enough body fat to allow for menstruation. They're as feminine as blow-up dolls. Holes in the right places, but not much else.

Schmoo stood up in his crib last night. He even 'cruised' along the crib rail from one end to another. He's done it over and over, but so far only in his crib. Not bad for a seven-month-old, I think. Yes, I am a proud mama.

He remains one demanding kid. A big part of it, in my opinion, is how badly he wants to be mobile. He hates being left behind in a room. Well, I think we're well on our way to mobility. Then the fun will really start.

We've also had our first head injury. Two days ago, I was sitting with him on the floor near the bookshelves in the office. My legs were up, and he was standing between them, holding onto my knees. Now, the way I figure it, there was one tiny space between my feet where he could fall, and only if he turned just right. Obviously, he did just that. His head hit a bookshelf with the sound of a coconut hitting concrete, and my heart almost stopped. The look on his little face was just devastating. He had a tiny goose egg, but no symptoms of a concussion, and he's back to his usual fearless self. So, once again, we're lucky.

I'm really enjoying this kind of lazy time at home. Planning for NaNo (I bought new note cards and a stand for my laptop to spare my wrists--yay!), taking care of the house, and trying out new menus pretty much occupies my whole day. It's so wonderful to be home with Schmoo. I feel too old to be pinching myself every morning just to make sure I'm not dreaming, but I am.

I think I love NaNoWriMo and want to bear its children.

The forums at NaNoWriMo are spiffy. Some of these people are clearly obsessed, but it's still fun. I've learned so much already about things I didn't know even existed, such as alternative programs for Word. I'm definitely investigating RoughDraft, Writely, and yWriter. I'd love it if I could copy it to disc and then upload it into my laptop, since I work without internet access on the laptop to cut down on distractions.

Two things disappoint me: (1)I was hoping to just cut loose and write, not really caring about perfect grammar. I figured I'd edit after NaNo, assuming I survive November. Finding the "Writing 101" board bothers me, since I have a hard time free writing if I know other people are being super careful with their punctuation. Even if it's people I don't know and will never meet, writing perfectly punctuated words I'll never read. I don't know if I'm being competitive, anal, or just a perfectionist. (2) According to the Houston, Texas lounge guy, my town has a very poor turn out for NaNo. Well, pooh. I was hoping I'd spy locals hard at work on their novels, identifiable by their cramped fingers, glassy eyes, and caffeine jitters.

Oh, after weighing the options, I decided to write original fic. Not as easy as fanfiction, but I feel better about neglecting Schmoo for it. I've got a rough story idea, so research ho!

I've been trying to figure out how I will simultaneously take care of Schmoo and write for NaNo. Simply put, I won't. Realistically, I can only write when Schmoo is asleep. He's in bed from 8 pm to about 7 am (and I'm trying to make it 7:30pm to 7:00am), plus he naps for 1.5 to 2 hours in the morning. If I get up at 5am, stay up until 11pm, and write during naps, I figure I can write for 3-6 hours per day. Assuming I don't write at all on Thanksgiving--and since it's my favorite holiday, I probably won't--that gives me 87 to 174 hours of writing time over 29 days. I was disappointed that I won't have more time, until I started looking at it in other ways. That's a max of 7.25 days or roughly 24% of November spent writing. Since I need to write "1667 words per day," if I write the minimum of 3 hours per day I need to write 556 words per hour. If I can write for 6 hours per day (consistently) I need to write 278 words per hour. I think it can be done.

Dealing with Schmoo is the hardest part. He'll be 8.5 months old on November 1. If he were younger, he'd sleep more. If he were older, I could occupy him with a movie. Right now, all he wants is me and he has to come first. I'll write before he wakes up, after he goes to bed, and all through naps. The rest of the day is for baby, chores, and meal prep. If I keep pens and paper constantly on hand, I can jot my ideas down during the day and turn them into story at night. Mom might watch him on a Saturday so I can take my computer and go to the college library if I need extra time.

I think my fear of getting stuck and running out of time is what's making it so hard to decide on an idea. I need to make a pros and cons list of fanfiction vs original fiction. After that I can start organizing, outlining, and researching. There's just never enough time.

Yay! I signed up for NaNoWriMo. :) I'm still undecided what to write, but I have one glorious month to decide. I should check out the forum and see if I can find some local writers for support. Let the madness begin!

And Schmoo is getting really angry that I'm not carrying him around!

You are 93% Gemini

Only 93%? I'm surprised.

My knee hurts. It's still grinding like glass in a blender when I walk, and I'm worried about one spot that's hot to the touch. The only thing I can think to do is ice it, wrap it, and pamper it.

With nothing better to do last night, I was laying around thinking about Schrodinger's Cat (as I often do) and Russell's paradox (just because "quantum fetish mechanics" is so much fun to say). That's where this came from, I think. I started thinking about how impossible it would be to be an elf with an unreasonable master. Poor Dobby.

Title: The House-Elf's Paradox
Author: aif
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco, Dobby
Summary: Draco Malfoy is not a good master to a house-elf.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine at all.
Word Count: 100

( clicky-clicky )

I just realized it's Read a Banned Book week. Proudly, I can say I've read many of the most frequently challenged books. Yay for me! I should read more, although I'll pass on the kiddie books like Captain Underpants and the Goosebumps series. It's sort of surprising how little acknowledgment of the week I've detected on the internet. Of course, I don't go that many places online. Banned books may be the hottest thing to hit myspace since the webcam, and I wouldn't know about it.

I must remember to thank my mother for always letting me read any damn thing I wanted. So many of the books that closed minded assholes try to have removed from libraries are books that captivated me and made me think as a young person. I'm glad I'm still a reader--and a free thinker--today.

I'm especially proud that I read all the Harry Potter books to Schmoo (#1 most frequently challenged series! Woo hoo!) while I was pregnant. I'd say he's off to a good start.

Apparently, it's genetic.

I fell down the stairs this morning. While naked, as it were. Before I got in the shower, I left some bulgar soaking on the counter top (for tabbouleh) and set the timer. Naturally, I forgot all about it. When I got out of the shower I heard the timer going off, so I wrapped at towel around myself and ran down the stairs. Well, I ran down 2/3 of the stairs and fell the rest of the way. I lost the towel, so I was naked and hurting at the foot of the stairs...in full view, I might add, of the glass panels in the front door and the living room windows. I hurt my right knee--again! I'm swollen and the joint feels "gritty" when I flex it.

It's so silly, but the worse part about this was being naked. I know it's all part of my fear of dying naked. Other people fear violent death. I fear naked death. I put on clothes after sex, because I'm afraid of dying naked in my bed. I won't skinny dip, because I'm afraid of drowning naked. Every time I take a shower, part of me is afraid of dying (naked) in some terrible showering accident. I never realized it, but I do things every day to ensure that paramedics and police officers won't be finding my naked body.

To add insult to injury, my tabbouleh isn't very good. It's too lemony.

Schmoo rolled off my bed this morning and fell 2+ feet to the carpet on his head. He was sitting in the center of my bed looking out the window. I had opened all the upstairs windows to let in some fresh air, and I think he wanted to get closer to the breeze or view. So, he flopped over and rolled right off the edge, I guess. Where was I? Standing in front of my closet on the other side of the bed, trying on shoes and choosing an outfit like the vain bitch I am.

He's not hurt, thankfully. He cried and clung to me, but no limbs are hanging wrong, he's not bleeding, and I can't find any bumps or even a red mark. It's only by chance, though. Thank God for carpeting. What the hell is wrong with me? I know it's not safe to put him on the bed. For the past week he's been rolling toward the edge every chance he gets. I've caught him at the last second at least a half-dozen times.

My house increasingly has the look and feel of a TB ward, and I think ds is getting a dual ear infection.

Sometimes I feel like a textbook example of how not to be a parent.