My BlackBerry Blunders

So, do you remember way back in the fall when my BlackBerry went on an adventure? If not, you can read all about it here.

Go ahead. Read it.

I’ll still be here when you get back.

…

Ok, so way back in uhh… *goes to page & reads her post again* November (wow, really? November? go figure…) my phone decided that it wanted to hang outside for a bit with the birds and the dirt. Now, as you could tell, it freaked me out by doing this. In fact, I was certain it was all my fault and that it would take its revenge on me.

But nothing happened.

I patted myself on the back, certain that the worst was over. I just had to be more careful with it. You know… had to NOT drop kick it into someone’s garden and leave it there for an hour. So long as I didn’t do THAT again, everything would be fine. And my BlackBerry. Yeah, it’s a forgiving sort! It’s totally fine with that once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. We were totally square. Two peas in a pod. Etc. Etc.

I was wrong.

That crafty S.O.B lured me into a false sense of security. It convinced me that we were best buds, that the past was the past. That the future would hold unicorns and rainbows and popcorn chicken that wouldn’t make me fat.

Vengeance is a dish best served cold I suppose. You don’t really get much colder than the middle of January.

That’s when my phone started randomly shutting off.

By February 1st I was frustrated enough to comment about this ordeal on Facebook.

My BB battery life indicator is broken… at least, that’s what I THINK is wrong with my blackberry and why I THINK the stupid thing keeps shutting off at random moments and then rebooting only to tell me that my battery is dead even though the last time I checked 1/2 the little battery was full of power.

I had suspected revenge at the time, but I think I was still in denial. I didn’t want to believe that my phone – my trusty little BlackBerry that I’d only had for a little over a year and a half, was taking revenge on me for something that, I’d thought, was in the past.

I thought wrong.

I thought so very very wrong.

Random shut downs started occurring more frequently, specifically in the middle of conversations. Without any warning. Oh, at first there was a half hearted meep that I couldn’t identify… but once I’d caught on and was able to quickly finish my conversations after the meep, the meep stopped. Then I got the loud droning noise that indicated the phone itself was still ON but the person on the other side really couldn’t hear me.

That was panic inducing on more than one occasion.

After that came the instant shut downs. I’d be in the middle of a sentence and it would turn off. But I wouldn’t know. I’d still be talking. That damn phone was making me talk to myself.

Can’t you just hear it’s little voice “who are you talking to? There’s no one on the other end. You’re going crazy. Maybe you were never talking to anyone at all” *insert evil laugh here*

So I stopped calling people. I encouraged everyone to text or email me. I could respond to those no problem. Whenever a call came, I either ignored it or picked it up to quickly say

Can’ttalknowthebatteryiscrapandisgoingtodiewillcallyouwhenIpluginmyphonebye

People we not impressed. Though they should have been – I was able to fit that all in one breath!

I got into the groove. I found the lack of phone calls peaceful if I’m going to be completely honest. Things were working out just fine.

I’d been lulled into a false sense of security.

Again.

At the beginning of March, my BlackBerry shut off while I was BBMing a friend. We were having an awesome conversation about something or other, when my phone blinked at me, then shut down.

Then it happened again.

Then it stopped blinking first and just went dark.

I never knew when it was going to happen. I never knew who it would happen to. Sometimes the phone would last all day without any problems. Sometimes it wouldn’t last the time it took to get to work.

It was a game of chicken, and my phone was winning.

Now, all this time I kept my colleagues and friends apprised of the situation. It’s only fair. Especially given that my BlackBerry is my only link to the outside world. Well, besides my ipod and computer when I’m at home. But I mean, when I’m not home. And, if people want to call me, my BlackBerry is my only phone. Several of my friends… actually, wait. Family. Suggested I buy a new battery. So I looked one up and it wasn’t overly expensive, however I’m a procrastinator to the nth degree. I’m also very good at telling myself I can just deal with whatever it is that’s causing me to be unhappy because “it’s not that big of a deal”.

So I went on dealing.

Then, last week, my colleague comes to work and says:

So, turns out my wife put a BlackBerry in the car for me to give to you a few months ago. She only just told me now though.

To which I said:

Awesome! Bring it up whenever you can.

Then we both promptly forgot.

On the weekend I got fed up again and looked at some BlackBerry batteries with the longing of a child outside a candy shop who’s going to the dentist and his doctor said he needed to go on a diet. (don’t know why I’m a boy child, but that’s besides the point… it’s also beside the candy store… dammit now I want licorice)

Before I pressed “purchase” – because I actually did get all the way to the paying counter, I remembered that my colleague had a phone for me.

So today. Today my friends. Well, technically yesterday since it’s after midnight… Yesterday! He came up to me first thing and said

I still have that phone in my car

Which we both promptly forgot again.

Then, at 3:55, right before he left – we remembered! I walked him to his vehicle and got said phone (an old old model methinks, but worth trying out). In the elevator, I popped open the back and what did I see?

My battery!

Well, not MY battery, but a battery identical in colour, shape, size, numbering and every other way possible, except it wasn’t warped from being drop kicked or from hatching vengeful schemes in its tiny warped mind!

No, it was a perfect replacement!

So now, here I am with a new battery in my trusty phone. I made my first phone call in three months. It lasted 20 minutes and my phone didn’t shut off (though I was certain it would). In fact, my phone is STILL on. AND it claims to have a full battery life.

*happy dance*

That my friends, is the end of this story. In the future, I advise people who are having battery problems to purchase a new battery for the cheapest they can find (do NOT pay more than you have to! Phones go out of style faster than teenager’s pants. Literally.) I know that I was hesitant to spend more than $20 on a new battery because I’m saving up for the BlackBerry Q10.

I wait for your Qwerty. I wait….

I am now a Tulip

I had one of those random moments just now. It’s 11:20pm on a Monday night… the perfect time for random moments. This hour on this day… it’s practically a breeding ground for random moments. They’re just popping up all over the place.

Anyway, my random moment consisted of me suddenly deciding to add a header to my twitter profile. Then, I decided I might as well change my blog photo too. I mean, I’ve been a leafless tree for what? two years now? It’s about time I evolved into something new. Something more… me.

I wish I could actually sustain potted plants in my home. Ones with colour. I love my umbrella tree, I really do (except I’m not 100% certain that it is, in fact, an umbrella tree) but sometimes you need a little yellow to brighten your day.

So I became I tulip. Specifically this yellow one.

Why you might ask, did I choose a tulip? Specifically this yellow one?

Well, this is two-fold.

Or three-fold.

There are some folds here.

The first fold – this photo was taken at the Ottawa tulip festival (or whatever they call it) way back in 2009 or 2010. The exact year is hazy to me. Anyway, it was an amazing trip with my best friend D. and I figure what better to use to represent me than a photo that carries so many good memories? (of course, a photo of ME would probably be the best representation of me… but that’s around the corner and down the street from the point).

The second fold – this is a tulip. My grandparents on both side are Dutch. Tulips are pretty much the flower symbol of the Netherlands. By having this photo as my profile picture, I am giving myself flower power… which I believe is the ability to shoot fire from my fist.

Beware!

The third fold – it’s a yellow flower and yellow is the colour of happy people who have sunny dispositions and are always bright and cheerful.  Well, in my mind it is. Basically, by using a yellow flower, I’m hoping to fool all of you into thinking I’m one of those people. Don’t worry, I only get like that after many cups of coffee or several pints of beer. It all depends on the time of day.

I’m fairly certain I had more folds to this story, buuuut I can’t remember them. I hope you enjoyed my story about folds! I mean, flowers! I mean, pictures!

Here’s my tree photo just for fun:

A tree in winter was I for the longest time. But now I am shining like the sun and I smell great.

My Epic Laundry Day

This week I did laundry for the first time since the holidays. My laundering task started with the inevitable desire to not go through with it… to put it off just one more day. I would have gotten away with it had I not confessed to my friend (via BBM) that I was going to do so. She gave me the best motivating response ever…

“Do it now and you won’t have to think about it again for another two weeks…”

I don my thoughtful face.

“If I do my laundry NOW, I won’t have to…” *insert explosion noises here*

Mind. Blown.

I have honestly never thought of it that way. Although in my case it’s more like three or four weeks, until I’m down to my last pair of socks and undergarments – but that’s down the street and around the corner from the point. I suddenly found myself very committed to completing my laundry. So I told my friend:

“Will keep you posted on my progress… cuz I’m sure you’ll be on the edge of your seat in suspense!”

“Yes I’m literally sitting on the edge of my couch waiting for news” she replied – she’s the most awesome person, ever.

Since I just KNOW you all want to hear about it, here is what I sent her throughout the evening. Enjoy!

9:30pm

When did I acquire so many clothes. And towels. And sheets. It seems too much for a single person. Too much. The weight of my laundry hamper nearly pulled me down the stairs. Luckily, they were narrow; I kept my shoulder on the wall for balance and support.

Half way to the laundry room I felt the familiar twinge in my ankle again. It has been twinging since that fateful Thursday game when I took a blow to the leg. I stopped a goal, but my leg never really got over the betrayal. It was paying me back tonight, methinks. Somehow I managed. Somehow I made it down the stairs with my dreadful burden and my vengeful leg.

I walked through the cold brick hallway; the lights flickered, eerie. There was a dull humming noise. It increased in volume, overcoming my sense of sound – though not my sense of smell which I regretted a bit upon passing the garbage bins. The humming buzzed through my skull, louder, more violent the closer I got to the dark, cement room at the back of the garage. I could vaguely make out the sound of water dripping as I slid the key into the lock.

I turned the knob and dread filled me.

I know what that noise is, I thought. That’s the sound of the machines. Someone is in there. They might be malicious or violent or worse… They might want to talk.

There is nothing worse than having to make polite conversation with someone while you’re in your laundry day clothes – yoga pants and an over sized, frumpy shirt. The cleanest things you own – at least you think they’re clean. They don’t smell at least.

I pulled the door open, my trepidation intensifying with the hum. Light poured onto the garage floor. I peeked around the door and relief flooded me. It was empty.

Sliding inside, I checked the machines for the source of the humming. Both dryers whirred, the robotic machine noise amplified by the hand-made cement walls. The room was obviously a later edition, but that’s a side thought to be discussed another day.

My hamper whuffed against the floor. The muscles in my arms shook from the strain and emotional tension.

It’s my lucky day, I thought, eyeing the empty washers and my overloaded hamper. I may not have to make two trips.

I loaded the washers without incident. I don’t even think I thought about what I was doing. It’s possible I forgot to put detergent in one of them. Though I’m sure I didn’t forget. But I might have – either way it’s too late now. My trip back upstairs was just as unmemorable, which is a good thing. It means my vengeful leg was pacified yet again. It seems I was also immune to the humming. As I sit here and write this entry in my laundry journal, I realize though that I forgot to note the time I loaded my laundry. I fear that the experience will go poorly from here on out as I try to hazard a best guestimate of when my laundry will be ready for drying. We shall soon see.

9:56pm

This trip down was much the same as the first. Only instead of a heavy laundry hamper I was burdened with two arms full of recycling. Though lighter, the cumbersome nature and inflexibility of my load made navigating corners quite treacherous. My leg and ankle protested again, which leads me to believe that weight is not the problem. Stairs are. Those vile, flat monsters require a dexterity of the joints that my ankle simple cannot provide. I am starting to suspect that both of my ankles are in cahoots with one another, hatching some evil scheme to destroy their nemesis. I am afraid whatever plans they follow through on will only end in tears. Probably mine.

In any case, I made it to the basement without incident. The silence was unnoticeable at first. But as I dumped the recycling in the appropriate blue bins… I noticed. My laundry must be washed, thought I as I traversed the garage floor with light feet and a light heart. Perhaps I will not need to take the stairs much more. But alas, this was not the case. The dryers were still full. Done, but full.

I hesitated. The moral quandry that haunts every resident of a building with a laundry in the basement (or other place) – do I taken the clothes out and put them in this strange person’s hamper or do I return. My mind drifted back to my previous laundy day, oh so very long ago. I had opted to remove the clothing myself. The owner had returned before I’d finished loading my clothes into the dryer. The embassassment as I explained what I had done was too much. I never want to relive that. Thus, tonight I have opted to wait. But it is ok dear reader, whoever you may be, for I have to take out my garbage as well. I will give this dryer hog 10 minutes before returning. Then I will empty the dryers myself.

On another note – it seems it is always best to leave your hamper in the laundry room. Especially if you’re using the dryer. That way the next person will put your clothes in a hamper instead of on the floor or another dirty surface.

10:30pm

As I descended the stairs, stinking and rotting garbage in hand, I knew that my fears were true. My ankles were conspiring against the stairs. Or at the very least, me. Both ankles twinged simultaneously in the stairwell. I would have gone flying but, as I mentioned, the stair well is narrow. I cannot fathom how these ankles of mine do not understand that harming me will harm them.

As I dumped the garbage into the bins, covering my mouth to block the smell, I noticed the humming again. Despair flooded through me… Again. Only this time it was couple with disbelief. A machine is running.

I hurried through the garage, my footsteps echoing over the dull hum. Dismay continued to grow inside me. The key – lock – turn – pull combo was a split second in comparison to that first trip. I entered the well lit room and stared at the dryer. It was running. The dryer hog was still using it.

This is what I get for being nice.

I stood there, contemplating my next move. Frustrated, I moved the first load from the washer to the dryer. I tried to cull the herd, so to speak, removing the lightweight clothes – soccer jerseys, shorts, and blouses. But it wasn’t enough. The dryer was much to full.

It’ll have to do, I told myself as I pushed the button to start the machine. The humming came to life, following me out of the room with my arms filled with wet cloth. Those poor, abandon clothes will not feel the therapeutic warmth of the dryer. Instead, they hang limp and damp.

12:00am

This will be my final entry. My final trip down was met with stumbles and stabs of dull pain (more discomfort, but for the sake of drama I exaggerate). The journey is a hazy mist of monotonous repetition. One foot, then the next. Stumble. Shoulder held against the wall for support. No man should be up at midnight doing laundry. No woman either. It’s inhumane. It’s barbaric.

Next time I will not procrastinate.

Next time I will do it the next day.

When I arrived in the laundry room, I could tell that my clothes were ready to be evacuated from the dryer. Except. They weren’t. The feeling of cold, damp cloth is the worst, especially when you expect the cloth to be warm and soft – the kind of warmth you could just wrap yourself in and fall asleep. Alas, this was not meant to be, not for me. Not tonight.

The combination of my legs’ plans coming to fruition and the disappointment that has arisen from all of my laundry still being damp is too much. I can no longer bear to be conscious right now.

This is the end.

So, for future reference – never agree to be kept posted by writer while they do mundane tasks. You WILL get a story and it may or may not be hilarious.

Experimenting with 50 Shades…. of Chicken

I recently brought a cookbook to work. It was a Christmas present from my wonderful boyfriend, and I just had to show it off. Why, you may ask. Because it is the most awesome cookbook I have ever seen. Not only does it focus solely on my favourite type of food, chicken, but it also parodies what I think is probably the worst best seller on the face of the planet – 50 Shades of Grey.

This cookbook is called 50 Shades of Chicken. Yes, that’s right. 50 Shades of Chicken. It’s a cookbook with 50 different ways to cook chicken. Whole chicken, sliced up chicken, bits of chicken – my mouth is salivating just thinking about the recipes. That isn’t the only reason why it’s so great. The book also tells the story of a lonely chicken as it makes its journey from a naive whole chicken living a spice-less life in the depths of the fridge to a delicious, melt in your mouth delicacy. The narrative is full of tongue-in-cheek humour that will leaving you laughing and yet full of a weird desire.

My co-workers had a great time reading through different pages, sometimes out loud. They especially liked the back cover:

“This isn’t just about getting me hot till my juices run clear, and then a little rest. There’s pulling, jerking, stuffing, trussing… he promise we’ll start out slow, with wine and good oiling… Holy crap.”

(Remember, that’s a chicken talking. Or would it be squawking?)

On a whim I decided I would actually try a recipe. My first question, of course, was “do they even sell whole chicken at the grocery stores?” Apparently they do…. they always have. In the meat section where you get your other chicken parts. I think my question shocked and amazed my co-workers. I’m OK with that. You have to shock people sometimes to keep life interesting.

Roasted Chicken with Bacon and Sweet Paprika

(page 24)

Serves 4

My chicken & my Merlot

Ingredients

• 1 Orange
• 1 Tablespoon of sweet paprika
• 1 ½ Teaspoons coarse kosher salt
• 1 Teaspoon of freshly ground black pepper
• 1 Teaspoon of extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 (3 ½ to 4 pounds) chicken
  (that’s 1.59 kg to 1.82 kg for people who don’t do pounds)
• 4 ounces of bacon (that’s about 4 strips)

Getting the Ingredients

Oddly enough I had most of those ingredients. Well, sort of. I substituted table salt for coarse kosher salt and boxed ground black pepper for fresh. I didn’t know if I had Paprika, so I bought it just in case. Turns out I did have it, but I’d bought it a long time ago and wasn’t sure if it would still be good. Then I picked up a single orange. That felt weird.

Making the Chicken

Prepare the Chicken

Step 1: Zest the crap out of that orange

This bowl really has zest!

First off, I had no clue what orange zest was or how to make it. So of course, I googled it. Since I don’t have one of those nifty zesters, I used the small grater holes on my triangle cheese grater. For this recipe, I needed to grate the whole orange. This was mildly entertaining. I think the best part was the citrus smell that filled the kitchen. I love citrus. The bad part though? Tiny pieces of rind, tiny pieces of rind everywhere.

Step 2: Mix Stuff in a bowl

Put the orange zest, paprika, salt and pepper a bowl. Mix it up a bit. Step 2 done.

I had to decide if I was supposed to leave the chicken trussed up. It seemed cruel somehow. But there I read ahead a bit and it said that I would have to shove something into the cavity and figured it would be easier if the chicken wasn’t all tied up.

For the record, when I spread its legs, I definitely said eewwww.

Step 3: Oil & Spice up that chicken

don’t forget the orange!

After my initial disgust at handling a dead, nude carcass, I developed a better understanding of how this cookbook can be a parody of 50 Shades of Grey. As I massaged the chicken with the oil, I felt like I was massaging a human back. A very small human back. That had wings. And no head. OK, so I’m just weird.

That feeling disturbed me so I tried to push it away, but it kept coming back. It was grotesque, and yet oddly sexual. Though that could’ve just been the Merlot I was drinking.

I probably had more fun than was necessary after that. My hands and the chicken turned orange as I worked the mixture in. When it came time to flip the bird to spice up its underside, I made that little birdie dance and it was awesome. The disgust came back a bit when I had to coat the cavity… I won’t go into details, just two words: chicken puppet.

Note to self: next time I make this have a friend over – preferably one that won’t be horrified by a dancing chicken carcass.

Cut your orange into four and shove it right up that Chicken’s butt

This one is self-explanatory.

Cook & Baste that Chicken for 45 minutes

After the chicken was sufficiently covered, I threw it in a roasting pan and shoved it into the preheated oven.

This is where I realize I don’t have a baster. Or a brush. Or anything small enough to scoop up the juices from the bird as it roasted. I decided I would try anyway. So every 5 minutes or so, I went in and did my best to baste. By the 3rd attempt I gave up and decided it would either turn out or it wouldn’t. I’ve eaten enough of my cooking to know that I can stomach it.

Add Bacon

Not basting didn’t SEEM to have any negative effects on my bird. So I crisscrossed the bacon on top of the chicken and pushed it back into the oven for another 20 minutes (or until the bacon was cooked).

Wait & Carve

After NOT waiting 10 minutes as the recipe suggested, I carved the bird. Well, I tried to. I more hacked at it until I got enough meat in my mouth to satisfy my salivating taste buds.

It was the most delicious chicken I had ever tasted in my entire life. And, here’s the kicker… it was STILL GOOD for lunch, dinner, lunch again, dinner again and lunch again for the next three days!

That, my friends, is why 50 Shades of Chicken is the most amazing cookbook in the world.

(for now)

The Week After NaNoWriMo

This is my Winner’s badge. Isn’t it pretty? I think it’s pretty.

It’s been a week since NaNoWriMo ended. Well, almost a week. Ok, technically over a week, since I officially hit the 50K mark last Tuesday. But that’s besides the point.

I’ve spent the last eight days avoiding my computer at home (I’m sort of stuck in front of my computer at work, so it’s hard to avoid there) and ignoring my brain when it nags me to write more. I guess that’s one disadvantage to binge writing – when the binge is over, you really don’t want to do it any more.

For a week.

Then the craving sets in again and your fingers start to itch. Your mind tumbles through millions of plot twists that could be implemented in your next story. Your life seems a bit… boring… without the drama of word wars, the psychedelic images created by random prompts  and the interesting social engagements that come with NaNoWriMo.

Writing is an addiction people.

More specifically, I think NaNoWriMo might be an addiction.

But it’s one of those “good for you addictions”, like being addicted to milk, or running, or fruit. If those addictions are even possible (I feel like they should be). Oh oh, or being addicted to vitamins – though I’ve heard that too many vitamins are bad for you… something about your liver.

Moving on….

NaNoWriMo was a great experience. A majestic and wonderful month of meeting new people, and challenging myself as a writer. Quite a few of my NaNo buddies succeeded – they too are proud owners of a NaNoWriMo winner’s badge.

I learned quite a few things participating in NaNoWriMo…

• A Writer’s Network is one of the most important things a writer can have to strengthen not only their writing skills, but to help create more dynamic and believable stories. I’ve discovered how different it is to have people in the same room as you who are as excited about writing their story as you are about writing yours. Asking them a question about plot is easy and painless because they’re doing the same. This blew my mind a little bit. Not a lot though, because I still needed my mind. So here’s a shout out to all of my NaNo buddies who helped me get over that massive writer’s block and gave me to the push I needed to succeed! You know who you are… and you are awesome! :)
• Writing every day is NOT easy & you will constantly feel like you should be writing even when you’ve hit your daily goal. This is a good thing. This is a thing that should carry over to every day for the entire year. And it sort of has. I still have that nagging feeling that I’m supposed to be writing (and I guess technically I should be) but it’s not as strong. I’m actually worried that it’ll fade and eventually the nagging will be gone and I’ll be left with no drive to write. Perhaps I should set myself my own personal monthly goals (not 50K though… that’s a November thing and will remain a November thing). Hmmm… I should get a buddy involved.
• Writing for the sake of writing is the best thing a writer could do. This is so incredibly true and I think it’s why NaNoWriMo was invented in the first place. Your story/novel/whatever will be edited. A first draft IS NOT a final draft (and never should be). Editing is the second step. Writing is the first step. So why go back and edit AS you write? That’s counter-productive and yet EVERYONE does it. Well, that’s a broad generalization. Let me rephrase… yet ALMOST EVERYONE does it. I’m doing it right now. If there’s is one thing I will take away from this whole experience is that I need to turn my personal editor on mute for the duration of the first draft. Then, once I’ve got the whole draft out of my brain, I can go back and edit.
• Writing for the sake of writing is the best thing a writer could do. This point needed repeating because it’s true for two reasons. The first, as stated above. And the second because that dreaded “writer’s block” can be overcome by writing. Just writing. Look outside and write about the weather. Describe the room your character is in. Just WRITE. Your plot will come in, grab your brain and yank in the direction you need to go next. Or, set yourself a time limit and type as fast as you can – I can’t guarantee that it’ll get you passed that writer’s-block-that’s-really-a-hump, but it’s incredibly likely that by the end of your set time frame, you will be inspired or at least back on track.
• Random Prompts & Character Quirks make your story more dynamic and thus, more believable. Throughout the month, my ML (Municipal Liaison) posted these prompts that we were supposed to include in our story. In addition, there were random prompts provided by my NaNo buddies during word wars and what not. Incorporating these required some skill and imagination – when you succeeded, you realized that the scene you’d created was a great way to add depth to a side character or make your world just a little less linear and a little more real. That, my friends, is important. You want your world, your characters, to all be real and relate-able. Prompts do this. Or they completely mess you up. Either way, it’s fun!

Well, those are the things I had on my mind today about NaNoWriMo. I’m pretty sure there are a few other things I’ve learned that I’ve forgotten to include here. But that’s ok, because this post is pretty long.

If you’re a writer and want to participate in monthly writing goals, let me know! I can set something up here so that we can all keep track – maybe on the first of every month I’ll post the month’s writing goal, then we can chat in the comments and what not? Whatever works!

That Moment When…

Today I had a moment… and it turned into many moments. I tweeted the first moment… then realized the second moment needed to be shared. This turned into an all day affair that I, personally, find amusing and thought I’d put here for all of my readers who don’t follow me on Twitter.

If you follow me on Twitter than you probably have already read this. :)

Without further ado, this is my “That moment when…” series:

• That moment when you realize that you only have 9 days to write 15,000 words #panic #NaNoWriMo #morepanic
• The next moment when you realize you haven’t seen the Hunger Games movie #panic #whatswrongwithme

(that was 1/2 way through my morning coffee, so my thoughts were a bit fickle)

• That moment when you realize that the world will end in one month#panic
• The next moment when you realize that if the world doesn’t end, Christmas is in one month & three days #panic
• That moment when you realize that it’s going to be dark outside when you leave work… for the next 5 months #panic
• The next moment when you realize that it’s going to be COLD & dark when you leave work #panic

(I’d noticed that it was getting to be that bright, false light that the office gets when it’s dark outside. You know that lighting… it’s not QUITE bright enough to see, but at the same time it seems too bright? Well, that’s what set off those last two realizations)

• That moment when you realize you’re no longer at work #relief
• That moment right after when you realize it’s not Friday #panic
• That moment when you realize the store is closing & you haven’t found what you’re looking for. #panic
• The next moment when you realize the other store you need to go to is probably closed as well #panic
• That moment when you realize that the fry you ate was all salt & very little potato #panic
• The next moment when you realize your fav “candy” is salted black licorice (from Holland) so it’s all good #relief

(Explanation of the last two tweets: I decided that instead of sticking my hand in the fry container to get the last little fry, I’d dump the container over my hand to get it. Before I realized what happened, I popped the fry into my mouth. Thing is… when I dumped the fry out, I also dumped the half a pack of salt into my hand… which subsequently flooded my mouth with salty goodness. The second tweet, well. You’ll understand after you’ve tried a “dropjes”. ;)

• That moment when you realize a night shopping after straining your ankle in soccer was probably a bad idea #pain
• That next moment when you realize that you aren’t even half way done your christmas shopping #panic
• @juliebug77 That moment when you realize it’s not even December yet. #relief
• Phew! But the nxt moment when u realize it is nxt Sat #panic RT@juliebug77 That moment when you realize it’s not even December yet. #relief
• & the following moment when you realize u have 9 days to write 15K#panic #nanowrimo #fullcircle #imdonenow

And that, my friends, is how you tweet yourself full circle in less than 12 hours. From panic to relief to pain and back to panic, this is the roller coaster of my life. Or at least of today. Now… if only I’d spent this time working on my NaNoWriMo story, then I’d probably be a bit more relaxed right now.

That moment when you realize…. what? Share your fun realizations! 

Day 17 – NaNoWriMo Update

I took a bit of a break this week. I was up to a little over 28K on Monday night so I decided to socialize. It was a good week. The only problem? Getting back to writing today was very very difficult. I spent the morning watching some shows with W. and the couch was so comfortable that getting up to write seemed like too much of a hassle.

Luckily, I’ve got some stellar NaNoWriMo buddies who were willing to tell me what’s what via Twitter. Especially when I didn’t show up to our pre-arranged online writing session.

Now, here I sit, a few word wars and 2.5K more words later feeling like I accomplished something. And I did. I got myself over the 31K hump. Next goal, get over the 35K hump! But that’s for tomorrow. Or Monday. We’ll see how productive I feel tomorrow.

That was my update. Here’s an excerpt of what I wrote today. This was from the first word war. I told my friends that I didn’t know what to write, so they asked BattleJesus for a writing prompt. BattleJesus told me that the dish came back and said it lost the spoon when they made a run for it. THAT’S what I had to incorporate.

Challenge Accepted!

Without further ado, here you go. Enjoy!

***

She picked up her and Logan’s plates, a bowl and spoon that Nathaniel must have used and brought them to the counter. The boys rustled with their clothing, chatting with each other. It made a pleasant background noise to the domestic task.

The remaining food particles were shovelled into the garbage under the sink. The forks and butter knives went in the cutlery holder, the plates in the appropriate slots. Glasses got rinsed, the water falling over the clear glass creating a rainbow of colours. Clara watched in awe as the colours intensified, joy bubbling up inside her at the way the colours were accentuated by the sun, the window panes, the grass outside and the piles of snow.

She picked up the bowl, rinsing it. She froze, looking inside.

“There was a spoon,” she said, confused.

“Yeah, sorry about that Clara,” the bowl said. “I lost it in when we made a run for it. I think it got away though, so don’t worry about that. It’s in a safe place now. A better place.”

“Where could that be?” Clara asked, bending over to put the bowl in the dishwasher. The white porcelain glistened, rainbows of colours radiating in the sunlight.

“It’s with Nathaniel and Logan now,” the bowl said.

“Outside?” she looked out the window, but didn’t see her boys. Panic rose in her. Where were they? They said they were going outside. Why can’t I see them? “Where are they?” she asked the bowl. It remained silent, the sides mute and colourless. Pale. Dreary.

She stood, her heart beating.

Where are they? Why aren’t they here? They said they were going outside. What did the bowl mean? Where’s the spoon? With Nathaniel and Logan?

She shook her head, her hair bouncing against her cheeks.

This is ridiculous. She thought to herself. They just went outside. I know they’re there. Don’t panic. Don’t be stupid. Stop listening to inanimate objects. How could a bowl talk anyway? Clara, you’re crazy. Stop being crazy and put your coat on. Just walk into the mudroom and put on your jacket. Relax. Ok. Relax.

That’s my post for today. Time to go eat something….