What the Hell Does Havering Mean Anyways?

This was my first Google search this morning, and (I’m happy to report) the word’s definition is: “to talk nonsense or crap.”  Which is appropriate, because we do a lot of jib-jabbering around here.  Coincidentally, “talking crap” is the main topics of this post.

The Bullshit

My time at the good ole supermarket is, blissfully, coming to a close.  PHEW!  Not going to tell how HOW I quit, for “fear” (just doing the right thing/being responsible) of incurring the wrath of a defamation lawsuit.  I will say what utter joy it has given me to know that I only have a few days left as a slave to the man.

Although, I’m getting another job–of course.  Nearly have another one.  It’s more money, hours, benefits (I’ll have health insurance for the first time since I left the service! This pleases my mother), and a pretty stationary work schedule!  If you’ve ever worked retail, then you know how hectic life gets when you never know when you’re working until a few days before.  It’s not fun.  I think I am most excited about the set schedule.  A set work schedule means I can set more than one day aside specifically for writing!  Which I’m going to do after reading for a bit.

Organisms, Or What the Fat Lady Does

I’m sitting here, it’s nye yet two-thirty in the morning (three after editing, yeesh), and I can’t help but chuckle.  Fatigued beyond belief, yet more conscious than I’ve ever found myself, and, like many a person in this day and age, what do I do?–I come here!–to share this with you.  “Lol” does not even begin to sum it up.  If I could only tell you in full what just happened.  I can’t, partially because I’m slightly bashful–but only slightly.  However, I also kinda want to keep it clean around here.  I’m just too amused with myself not to share this.

I’m sitting here, dreaming–what else is new?–and, all of a sudden, I am so filled with the emotion of the dream … I am so without control over myself that I just burst into song.  Not just any song, mind you, Olivia Newton-John’s cover of “You Made Me Love You!”

Worry not friends, I shake my head at this silliness along side you.  Buuuut, I do have a question?  Anyone else do this? (Besides Rhiannon)  This isn’t a unique occurrence for me.  I burst into song all the time.  It’s like they told us in college: the REASON there is song in musicals is the emotion has come to such a height the story has no choice but to continue thusly.  The same must be true in real life.  I guess, what I’m asking is … *Is there anybody out there..?*  (Name that tune … again, besides Rhiannon … too easy)

When Lightning Strikes

Damnit, I was trying to write a blog again.  Let me tell you, I got four paragraphs into this before I realized how HARD I was trying to write this.  I need to STOP that!  Just flow with what comes to me.  I have exciting news, and I’m going to give you guys the short–unstylized–version of the tale.  You know, because it’s honest.

So, if you live in Nashua, then you know we had a CREEPY thunderstorm (I love thunderstorms) two nights ago.  Yeah, the lightning was so close it FREAKED me out.  I wrangled Rhiannon into working on the outline.  We’d come to a point where we were just stumped over the motivations of our villain.  We were seeing all these interesting things about him…

…I’m sorry all.  I really want to continue writing this post … I want to continue writing posts PERIOD …

I just had a phone conversation with my sister, Rosie … turns out … she has cancer.  I’m not sure when I’ll be back.  It might be tomorrow … it might be a month from now.  I’m not sure how the processing is going to go for something like this in my head.  It’s … surreal.

Huh, this title is oddly fitting.  It was SUPPOSED to mean inspiration strikes … which it did … only now there’s real life …

For Crying Out Loud

Maybe I’m just as bad as my sisters.  In the past, I had no problems airing my “dirty laundry” online.  Why not?  All my friends, who only sorta knew my situation would automatically take my side, and I’d have instant support.  Who wouldn’t want to take advantage of something like that?  That was high school for a vast majority of my generation.  (How long is a generation?  Is some of my generation still in high school?  Clearly I still should be.  Not that I want to go back, no thanks.)

So here I am, seven years after high school, and I’m back to pouring my heart out to the world wide web.  I’m not sure how many people read this, as apposed to my LiveJournal days.  I don’t always link these posts, usually when they are on the more private side, but I might link this one … ‘cuz I want it read.  It amuses me to see the cycle.  I’m back where I started, changed, and an all around better person.

What I really wanted to write about was Rosie.  For those of you who don’t know her, she’s my super amazing, down to earth, “crass” (to use one of Rhiannon’s favorite British-English terms), and frank persons I know.  She’s no bullshit, but hardly ever business.  If there was ANYONE in the world who was destined to be a mother, she’s the one.  Her love is firm, but never ending, and motherhood has been her dream for as long as I’ve known her (which has been her whole life).

Last night I got a call from my lovely sister.  Rosie had an eye doctor’s appointment yesterday, and she found out she is almost completely blind in her right eye.  Let me back up a little.  Two years ago in July, Rosie gave birth to my godson, Landon.  After the pregnancy she started seeing silver fish in her right eye, and whoever (not sure if it was a doctor or a post-pregnancy nurse, she told me, but I forgot … I’m a bad brother sometimes) told her it was postpartum migraines.

Rosie has always been delicate, and I mean physically.  If you knew Rosie, you’d know how strong she is.  Always trying to rise above her limitations.  Never truly falling into the victim role she could play (although, understandably, she does have her moments).  She’s used to get in trouble for fighting at school … and I’m pretty sure she’s still in denial about being white–but that’s another topic.  I just can’t stop thinking about how awesome Rosie is, and how awful what is happening to her.

By delicate I mean, Rosie has always been small.  When she was born my mother had to put her in cabbage patch doll clothes.  She was born with a bone disease (inherited, albeit a stronger form of it, from our great-grandmother) called bradydactyly.  She still gets teased about her small fingers, but I don’t know anyone else who can give me the middle TOE!  For the longest time she was afraid of not being able to have kids, because of this, so when she had Landon … it was the best thing I could have hoped for her.  This eyesight loss seems like a cruel trade off.

Turns out, the whoever at the hospital misdiagnosed her.  If it had been postpartum migraines, she would have seen silver fish in BOTH of her eyes, coupled with, you know, an actual migraine.  Now, two years later, her retina is almost completely separated (with little hope of salvaging it) from the back of her eye.  The “worst” part about it … Rosie is pregnant again.  Even if there IS something they can do, they have to wait until AFTER she’s had the baby.

Knowing Rosie, this won’t slow her down at all, but I can’t help bawling my eyes out (definitely no pun intended).  Just the thought of her not being able to see Landon and the coming baby grow up … it’s not something I’m handling very well.  And it also makes me wonder if I can do something about it.  Just the other day Rhiannon was telling me that there is technology in development which can literally PRINT live human organs.  It’s yet another reason why what Rhiannon and I are doing HAS to be great.  There HAS to be something I can do for her.  Maybe not now, but not too far into the future either.

Never Give Up; Never Surrender

All I can do is think of the story.  My brain is in a fog from whatever bug I’ve got.  Production is slow, but I feel slammed with inspiration.  It’s strange.  I can’t not work, and I can’t work.  Yeah, you gods of the universe.  I’m done with the suffering phase.  It’s time to get on with my life.

Twitterpated

What do you do when you think you’ve heard something, but it could have been your imagination intervening with the thing you WANTED to hear?  Why doubt?  Why think about it?  Why not just ask, “Did you just say what I think you said?”  Fear, but it’s illegitimate fear.  This game is way too fun.  Whether he said what I heard, or just made it up doesn’t matter I guess … I know how I feel.  Which scares me even more.

By the way, pistachio ice cream with jimmies are the BEST!

I’ve Gotta Go Tah Work…

…but I’d so rather stay here and write.  Correction, that was a Fruedian slip, I’d so rather stay here and sleep.  I failed on that mission last night.  Not feeling too hot.  Maybe I’ll be lucky, and they will show mercy on my miserable ass.

Why am I dumb?  It was silly, the whole not sleeping thing.  I didn’t even really try.

On the plus side, I got another large chunk of the new outline done.  I’m sure after I’ve slept I can get close to completing tomorrow.  I’m not sure I’ll be any use today.  Another bright side, in addition to getting some good writing out, I also caught up on Glee–go me!

Down With Blogging

Blogging sucks.  I’m done with it.  From now on, I’m treating this website as my own journal.  I may keep out some of the more private stuff, but I’m done with the formality of blogging.  The funny thing is, I started writing this post like a BLOG.  It was all in nice paragraphs, complete sentences, and expressed full ideas.  Hah.  Then I looked at the clock!

I have to cook a roast chicken for someone special.  I have no time to blog, and that is the point.  Besides, this site was never meant for stuff like that.  I want to get my thoughts out to the world–not show off my writing skill.  Of course, I’ll do that here and there (as I have done).  Not to mention–that is what the BOOK is for.

P.S.  Remind me to tell you guys about the book sometimes.  For real about it.  Not all the general stuff.  I won’t be giving any of the ending plot away, but I think it’s time you guys got an intro/sneak peak into what we’re conjuring here.  Alright, the kitchen awaits!

Edward Cullen, Or Why I Hate/Love Myself

First off, let us pretend we didn’t take a two+ month hiatus from blogging.  We shall wipe the slates clean (as we have done SO MANY times before), and we will forge on with our new found vigor.  As for the business pointed at in the title to this post, well, if you haven’t yet been exposed to the Twilight “phenomenon,” then you’re in for a crash course on the hero.

So, Edward Cullen is a tallish, semi-muscular teen heart-throb vampire.  He excels in obsession, stupidity, with a steamy pile of chauvanism to boot, but, even I have to admit, these elements combined create a hawt character.  The fact is dwarfed by how many times Meyer tells us this fact through Bella’s narrative, but I’m not here to rag on Stephanie Meyer … not today. (We love you Meyer.  We really do.  Especially Rhiannon, but I love you too.  I mean, I’m reading them a second time now.)  Conversely, I consider myself.  A not tallish–by any standard–semi-ghetto booty’d twenty something novelist, who excels in inventing words, fancy grammar, and stories.  On the surface, we are nothing alike.

It’s upstairs (in the brain) where we currently correlate … to my great shame, amusement, and luck.  I’m not sure if I am quite there yet, and I won’t use Meyer’s words, but I’ve been hit just as hard as Edward was when he first saw/glared at Bella.  I’m afraid that is as clear as I’m going to get in this post.  We’re getting more private than I usually get, and since it involves another (who might not want this information published all over the internet), that is as far as I dare speak about it to you all.

Another giveaway clue: I’ve written another poem.  Or, I’ve started writing another poem.  I have the first draft done, and a couple ideas floating around for ways of cleaning it up and making it something worth reading.  Every word counts in a poem … and the fact I am THAT motivated to work on the poem … surprises me.

In other news (haha), we finished the rough draft!

“Yeah, a month ago!”

More like 19 days ago.

“Same thing.”

Yep.  We’re excited (and that was all Joey, for those of you who were curious, Rhiannon has had nothing to do with this post … unless you count the Rhiannon in my brain … since we share one.  Yeah).

23 chapters, 600ish pages, 132,000+ words (sorry about the non-exact number, I’m writing from my sister’s place tonight).  It took us just over nine months, and it was one hell of a term.  We had a book, and it’s … well, it needs to go back in the oven for a couple more months, but don’t all babies work that way?

*Ducks as the Mom’s of the world descend upon me*

“ALL BABIES ARE BEAUTIFUL!!!”

Happy Mother’s Day!

*Enables [White-Out Ability] which casts a veil of invisibility over the user for one hour and flees from battle*

Yeah, sorry about the silly mood.  It’s part of that Edward Cullen thing.  I feel like I can be more myself.  I feel like I WANT to be more myself.  Part of that involves putting myself out there.  Exposing how I really feel … not only to those I’m close to, but to everyone.  I want to share how good I feel.  I am NOT willing to do that at the disregard of others’ feelings though … but I had to write about this today.

Hasta la pasta, for now.

P.S. We dive back into writing on the 13th of May.  Why?  It’s the new moon, and what better time to start growing the book than when the MOON starts growing?

The Sound of Music | Key to World Peace

There is an occult magic in this world so rare and precious it is little heard of today.  Uses for this magic include taming wild beasts, a fast-track cure for the common cold, and will (undoubtedly) be used to usher in world peace.  It is a well kept secret, but I’m prepared to share it with you all today.  That secret is the voice of Julie Andrews.

Most of us have heard at least one Andrews song in our lifetimes.  I’d even venture to say 90% of those songs are from The Sound of Music or Mary Poppins.  It is my opinion there is nothing Andrews’ voice can’t cure–especially choosing from these sources.  I was thinking about writing this post when my sister posted this video on Facebook, thus reinforcing my point:

The way the people react at seeing these dancers just coming out and doing their thing … there is such diversity–and just joy.  My day was made when I saw this video.  It’s evidence that the spirit of Andrews and her music is still strong in the mind of the world!

Taking a leaf from the Jedi Warrior’s Handbook, the military should play THIS at all the “bad guys” of the world!  Soften them up, lighten their hearts, and just plain get along.

*sigh*  I realize I’m dreaming big here, but “wouldn’t it be loverly?”  Take a moment and dream it with me.  Start singing your favorite Julie Andrews song, and do something nice for someone today.  It can even be from her other material!  There are TONS of GREAT songs in Victor/Victoria and Thoroughly Modern Millie and My Fair Lady and … *goes on ad nauseum*

*EDIT*

Alright, I found something else (of course).  If all the above videos have not made you happy, then perhaps this one may.  This features another one of my favorite actors from childhood, Gene Kelly.  Thanks, Mom!