"when i called her evil
she just laughed
and cast her spell on me
boo-bitch-craft"
happy halloween
oh, and my nanowrimo 2006 blog is up.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Buy Our House - PLEASE!
C'mon. You know you want to move to Surprise.
Here are some pictures!
Good area. I love our house.
Let me know if you're interested!
Here are some pictures!
Good area. I love our house.
Let me know if you're interested!
Friday, October 13, 2006
tonight, i'm in phoenix...
and damn it's good to be home.
even if this will only be home for another month.
even if this will only be home for another month.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
the nanowrimo challenge
so, last year i did nanowrimo. this is what i wrote.
and this year i'm taking the challenge again.
only this year i'm going to be moving cross country for one whole week in november so i will cut myself some slack if i don't reach my 50,000 word goal.
last year i was just lazy (and too perfectionistic).
i'm a writer - i can make up words like perfectionistic.
get off my back.
and this year i'm taking the challenge again.
only this year i'm going to be moving cross country for one whole week in november so i will cut myself some slack if i don't reach my 50,000 word goal.
last year i was just lazy (and too perfectionistic).
i'm a writer - i can make up words like perfectionistic.
get off my back.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Boxes of questions
Why are we collectors?
Is it an attempt to feel more connected, more permanent in this world? Do things make us more significant? Define us?
Why do I have a frisbee from the USS Intrepid that I visited at the age of 11 and a program from the Barnum & Bailey Circus from when I was 6? I remember the smell of the Hudson, the taste of cotton candy. Do I need the things from these places to connect?
I still have the Sports Illustrated magazine outlining the events and US hopefuls for the 1984 Olympics - back when Summer and Winter were held in the same year. Is it so I can remember that my girl scout troop came over to my house to watch the opening ceremonies and my mom made Sloppy Joe's for all of us? Am I trying to recapture the connection I felt with the world at the precise moment the torch was lit?
I've lived without these things in boxes for years. Why should I hold on to them? So I can continue to own stuff?
Really, it's just owning me.
Is it an attempt to feel more connected, more permanent in this world? Do things make us more significant? Define us?
Why do I have a frisbee from the USS Intrepid that I visited at the age of 11 and a program from the Barnum & Bailey Circus from when I was 6? I remember the smell of the Hudson, the taste of cotton candy. Do I need the things from these places to connect?
I still have the Sports Illustrated magazine outlining the events and US hopefuls for the 1984 Olympics - back when Summer and Winter were held in the same year. Is it so I can remember that my girl scout troop came over to my house to watch the opening ceremonies and my mom made Sloppy Joe's for all of us? Am I trying to recapture the connection I felt with the world at the precise moment the torch was lit?
I've lived without these things in boxes for years. Why should I hold on to them? So I can continue to own stuff?
Really, it's just owning me.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Little Life Lesson #1
Never start a brand new job on a Monday.
It may be a bitch for payroll, but it's not about them.
It's about the fact that by Day 3 you'll be gagging on the new names you have to pronounce, cursing the 2 story blisters popping up like new condo complexes on each of your heels (caused largely because you get lost every damn time you go pee), and I guaran-fuckin'-tee you that you'll have a strong desire to suck down 12 martinis while belting out "More Than This" in some backwoods dive bar named Lou's where the "L" is burned out on the neon sign but people show up for cheap beer, cheap women and cheap cigarettes from the prehistoric pull-knob machine in back by the pay phone.
And really, if that is Day 3, wouldn't you rather start your new job on a Wednesday so that Friday night you can pass out under a bar stool in a pool of your own drool?
It may be a bitch for payroll, but it's not about them.
It's about the fact that by Day 3 you'll be gagging on the new names you have to pronounce, cursing the 2 story blisters popping up like new condo complexes on each of your heels (caused largely because you get lost every damn time you go pee), and I guaran-fuckin'-tee you that you'll have a strong desire to suck down 12 martinis while belting out "More Than This" in some backwoods dive bar named Lou's where the "L" is burned out on the neon sign but people show up for cheap beer, cheap women and cheap cigarettes from the prehistoric pull-knob machine in back by the pay phone.
And really, if that is Day 3, wouldn't you rather start your new job on a Wednesday so that Friday night you can pass out under a bar stool in a pool of your own drool?
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