Twisted Fairytale

Go ahead, check out my wordcount. You know you want to.

Oh! That’s right? I’m up another 2k or so, give or take. I’m now only about 6k from my halfway point. Woohoo!

Today, while I should have been working on my WIP (which I did! I swear I did! I wrote a few pages, *shrugs*), I actually got struck by a different muse. One who I haven’t had a visit with since high school actually. Strange. Here is a product of that madness:

It doesn’t make sense.
Every smart woman
Would know I made the right choice in letting you go,
In walking away
To find someone who wanted me
Needed me
With the same desperation that I wanted you
Needed you.

Unhealthy obsession
I try to push it away but it lingers.
Stupid woman that I am
Led by emotions I despise.
I guess I’m still holding on to something that never existed
Wishing against the wrong star that heaven had listened
To the quiet sobs of a broken, empty heart.

Mark me,
Place the scarlet A across my soul.
I’m tainted, baby
You didn’t buy me whole.
So much of me was missing
The part I left behind with him
If I feel distant while we’re kissing
It’s because I hate myself for loving him.

You deserve so much better than me
Half hearted love
How could I ever give back what you’ve given me?
You should be the object of someone’s adoration,
Someone beautiful and smart.
A woman
As much your equal as your complement
With enough fiery passion
To make you the center of her universe.

That’s not me
Though I wish so badly that it was
It can’t be me, baby
I’m an empty shell of who I was

I want the safety and the happiness you promise
With each look in my eyes
But I don’t deserve a man who has to compromise
You think I can make you happy
Maybe I can
But can you live in the shadow of another man?

You shouldn’t have to,
You’re a better man than he ever was
Don’t try and compete, baby
I’m just a lost cause.

Haunted by a memory
That never really happened.
The past is twisted, thwarted into a vision of what I wanted it to be.
Don’t mourn the loss, baby,
You never really wanted me
At least not the woman that I am now

The one I was before,
The one with dreams and aspirations
With a smile meant to shatter the strongest of men
That woman died, baby
Burned straight through the skin
By the heated touch of a boy,
Not yet a man
Full of empty promises
And mixed signs
To a girl those promises are heaven, baby
Those signs mean everything
Anything
She wants them to.

Warped mirror
Took me straight to Wonderland.
My Mad Hatter drugged my tea
I couldn’t see, baby
Couldn’t see past the sea of ocean blue
His eyes, his hands
The warmth his body could exude

I love you
I do
And yet I know I don’t love you like I should.
I’m still in Wonderland, baby,
Trapped inside my head.
I hate myself for loving him
When I should love you more instead.

I should learn to play an instrument so I can write my own music. I have like 3 songs I’ve ever written. I’d love to sing my own stuff. Too bad I’m like absolutely awful with stuff like instruments. Takes me FOREVER to learn.

Anyway, that’s one of two poems I wrote today. Two, for the first time in over 5 years. Strange.

So I’m so close to the middle of my story… too close, if there is such a thing. I’m now paralyzed with fear. I haven’t even opened it in like 3 days. What’s with the panic? Don’t I WANT this thing to be done? Well, sure I do, but some part of me is actually quite terrified of finishing. Hence, my unhealthy procrastination of something that really should’ve been much further along at this point. *sigh* I feel a bit like a basket case.

On another note, I was looking for inspiration and found some great movie scenes on YouTube, one of my fave places in the world. I get inspired when I watch actors bring characters to life. I try to imagine what it would be like to see my characters on a screen, really living and breathing, the way I see them in my head. I drunk in the tension and laughter, the great writing, the little details that always take my breath away. Acting is such an art. Many of them don’t get enough credit. Some of them, who aren’t so great, get too much. (But, I digress).

Anyway, I think the inspiration helped a bit. I’ve opened my WIP and am currently staring at it. If I write 3 pages, I’ll treat myself to folding laundry, which at the moment is looking WAYYY more appealing.

On a happy note, my friend had a baby boy last night! Welcome to the world Jayden!

Which naturally means: Weigh-in Day!

I’m now on week 7 of my medically supervised weightloss program. Overall I’ve lost 22 1/2 lbs. I’m very proud of my success, but I tell you it doesn’t come easy. While the first 3 weeks I looked forward to weigh-in day, now I just sort of grunt. The process is starting to slow down, to regulate. Last week I lost one pound. The doctor asked me if I had cheated on the program. Now, I know that is probably something he has to ask everyone. Procedure, you know? But… WTF? Seriously? I paid 500+ dollars to join this program. I’ve seen GREAT results. Why would I cheat? Wouldn’t that just be a waste of both of our time?

Turns out a lot of people do cheat. *grumbles* Idiots. I don’t know why you’d try something so life changing only to change your mind partway through. I’ve done what they asked me to. Drank more water. Did more exercise. I’m hoping that this week I’ll be back up to 3-4 lbs. If not, we may have to figure out what’s causing my metabolism to deflate like a balloon.

Then it’s off to the gym. If I lose a lot of weight this week, I’ll work out extra hard, just so that I can lose more next week. It becomes a personal challenge. I’m always competing against myself. If I don’t lose enough, I’ll work out even harder, because I want to make sure next week is a good week. So I guess either way, I win, huh?

Last night I was up until like 4am working on that scene I was telling you guys about. It’s finished. It needs tweaking, but it’s finally finished. I’m going to leave it alone and move on. It’s held my attention long enough.

My wonderful CP Ansha told me that according to a workshop she read, I’m a liner writer. I think she’s totally correct. I don’t like having too many drafts. I keep the process as short and simple as possible. I also HAVE to work in linear order. Scenes MUST be from beginning to end. I have issues jumping around. And if I do, it’s only a few scenes ahead, it can’t be like, 5 chpts ahead. Sure, it’s the OCD method of writing, but it works for me. So I’m thrilled to say I’m not at 42k. 8k away from my first major goal.

The halfway mark! Can you believe it? That’s pretty exciting! I plan to reward myself for it. Haven’t decided how yet, though a nice pair of shoes is starting to look appealing. Then it’s back to work. Gotta try to hit 75k at that point. Ha, ha. Relentless, I know.

Happy Friday everyone and enjoy your weekend!

My husband tells me I’m a pessimist. He tends to over dramatize the entire situation by saying something along the lines of : (makes a poor attempt to use my voice) Oh great, I just cut my finger. I’m going to need a band-aid or it’ll get infected and I’ll have to go to the hospital where they’ll amputate my finger. And if it spreads, well forget it. They’ll have to take my entire hand.

*raises eyebrows* Ahem. I am not THAT bad. The man can be so infuriating sometimes. I have since tried to explain to him that I am not a pessimist, but a realist. What does this mean, you may ask? It means that I get it. That I understand the way things work. It’s called Murphy’s Law and it goes something like this:

Things will go wrong in any given situation, if you give them a chance.

Some people would call that kind of thinking negative. I don’t. I call it being prepared. Let’s think about this for a second, shall we? Here are a few circumstances were Murphy’s Law never fails -

• Whenever I get my  hair done (straightened) it rains.
• I’ve searched for hours on end for a unique, attractive dress/outfit, only to find another person wearing it at a very important occasion. Of course it looks better on them.
• When running late, there is always an 1) accident on the roads, 2) construction, or 3) vehicle malfunction.
• I’ve gotten sick for every major performance I’ve ever given. Imagine 8 years of theatre. I’ve had pneumonia, strep, bronchitis, the flu, been dehydrated, and had a stomach virus. All with lead roles.

See what I mean? You can’t say its all coincidence. It just can’t be.  So, I live life without the rose colored glasses, although they do make the sky look rather pretty. I’m a realist, and I not only expect everything to go wrong, I want it to. Because I’m prepared to kick serious law booty. It’s why I am the QUEEN of backup plans.

The reason for this completely random post? My sister straightened my hair today. Sure enough, it rained this afternoon. Looks like hubby doesn’t know anything after all.

I can’t write five words but that I change seven. – Dorothy Parker

I’m stuck. I’ve been sitting on the same scene for days. It’s a decent scene. It really has the potential to be wonderful. The words just won’t come out right. I’ve got the skeleton down. Even that little skeleton makes me shiver in all its potential sexiness. But I need to flesh it out. To give it life. To make it breathe and pulse with heat. Why is this so hard? Because I keep feeling like I’m being fluffy. I keep feeling like I’m just writing more to write, rather than to make the scene better. And what I’m expressing… well, it’s imaginary, so it’s difficult to describe.

I know how it feels. I know what it looks like. But I’m having trouble letting everyone else know. Where the heck is Mac with some new flashy gizmo that will help transfer your thoughts into computers, without the actual effort of thinking, you know? Well, after the iPhone, I think it might just be next. Ha, ha.

Ok, you know what? I’m gonna give it another try. The word doc is open. The scene is up. I have to close my eyes, try and get lost in the moment. It’s really hard with Frasier in the background trying to pick Daphne off the floor after she’s fallen and gotten too heavy to get up herself. I don’t know why, I don’t even like this show, but I can’t seem to stop watching it. Oh that’s right… it’s called procrastination.

“Write while the heat is in you… The writer who postpones the recording of his thoughts uses an iron which has cooled to burn a hole with.” – Henry David Thoreau

Isn’t that the truth? I spent the last 4-5 days away from my WIP. What? Don’t look at me that way. I know, I’m a bad girl. I’ve got my own guilt trip going already, don’t need you guys glaring at me in disappointment.

But seriously, don’t you find that after just a few days of being away from the little world your mind has created, you suddenly find yourself cold? The passion fades a bit. The moments you create fizzle. You feel so detached. It’s like a marriage that has gone on for a real long time where nothing is exciting or new anymore.

That’s why I try to make it a point to write everyday. I keep myself in love with my characters. I remember why I made a vow to stick with them for whatever amount of time it takes to write their story. I feel their excitement, their loss, their fears. When we spend time together everyday, writing is practically effortless. Sure, there are the bad days. EVERYONE has bad days. I’m sure Miss Nora herself has a day or two when she feels like setting fire to a manuscript. But the regularity helps us push through until we find that good day around the corner.

So how do we manage to lose that kind of connection in only a few days? Real life. The nasty bugger just gets in the way. It’s hard to focus on a make believe world when you’re busy dealing with the real one. And the more you find to do in the real world, the further away you feel from that great little place you usually spend your time in. Your initial reaction is, man I want to go back! But after ignoring that first impulse, after the second and third day, it becomes something more along the lines of, I just don’t have time to play with those characters.

Well boo to you, adult Isabelle. The Isabelle with Peter Pan syndrome is perfectly happy sitting at the computer playing with her characters. And you know what? That playing will create an amazing, intriguing, captivating book that will one day *hopefully* make adult Isabelle a successful author.

I’ve learned the hard way that if you want to make this a career, you have to be willing to treat it as such. You wouldn’t not go to work because you have to clean your house (unless you suffer from serious OCD in which case, you’re excused). You wouldn’t not go to work because there’s a really great movie on TBS this afternoon. Come on! Let’s be real here. Writing is TONS more fun that work (most days, anyway). I know I’d rather be struggling with my characters than my boss. That’s just the truth.

So when the iron strikes, burn that hole. Write until your fingers bleed. Until your eyes cant stay open any longer. Until your soul has been purged from its insanity. Trust me, you won’t regret it after.

Ha. I just had the strangest urge to say: “Hi, I’m Amy Poehler, and this is Seth Myers and this is Weekend Update.” That is a sign of TOO much television.

Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for my absence, particularly to those whose blogs I frequent. I plan to do all of my catchups first thing tomorrow morning. Promise. *scouts honor* Unfortunately, Friday my computer had a total meltdown. Let me tell you all a story…

On the 14th of July I renewed my antivirus subscription. They offered me an upgrade for the same price. This was VERY exciting to me, so I was like, sure. Why not, you know? I figure the new stuff has to be better than the older version. Was I very wrong.

Midweek it started acted kind of funky. By Friday, it no longer worked at all. I contacted tech support. 4 times in about 5 1/2 hours. Let’s just say I spent very little time sleeping Friday night, and more time arguing with tech support people who all disagreed about what was wrong with my program. I had to install and uninstall it like 3 times. And at one point, during the uninstall, my computer got FLOODED with spyware.

Popup ads came out of nowhere. Some really awful ones started sending Trojans my way. I’m not sure the extend of the damage yet. I’m hoping beyond hope it wasn’t bad and that I caugth it all in time. Thanks to some savvy thinking on my part (yup, patting myself on the back as we speak) I disconnected the net, went to my inlaws and did some research on the little buggers stuck to my hard drive. Found some suggested cleaners and have since proceeded to download Spybot Search and Destroy, CCleaner, Ad-Aware, and FIREFOX! That one I’m particularly excited about.

I’ve never made the browser change due to old fashioned fear and traditionalism. But the time has come. IE is so last millenium. I need something with better security features, and Firefox seems to be the trick. I did a thorough clean of my system, found a bunch of the spyware and deleted it. I know 80% of the time it’s not that simple, but I can dream. Either way, I will continue to run these scans for the next few weeks to ensure protection. In the meantime, me and my antivirus people are not on good terms. I’m calling Customer Service to let them know I am deleting my new version and going back to the old one which never gave me issues. I’ll keep my subscription because its a good service, but I want the old version back.

Goes to show, don’t get pulled in by glamour and glitz of something new. Might just bite you in the… hard drive.

 Hope you all had a great weekend either way! And I will see you all at your blogs.

So I debated for a while on what to talk about today. Nothing’s really changed on this end. Same old, same old, you know? Then, I got to talking with my girl Cam. See the two of us have a mutual friend, Mary. She’s an intern. Cam and I, in our typical raging tv fanaticism, of course immediately refer to what we imagine intern life to be like.

Crazed doctors doped up and passing out in coma patient rooms (a la House) for that touch of drama. Doctors who deal with patients who view the world in song and dance routines (a la Scrubs) for laughs. Or, my personal favorite for obvious reasons, ridiculously and impossibly gorgeous interns getting it on in the stock room/supply closet (a la Grey’s) for sex appeal.

Unfortunately, we’ve been lied to. Yup, that’s right. It hurts to say, ladies and gents, but real life? Ha! Real life is NOWHERE close to these incredible, magnificent epics we watch on the TV, or read in books for that matter (though books hit the mark A LOT closer, if I may say so myself). What do I mean? Well, let’ compare, shall we.

Actors play normal people all the time. Stay at home moms. Cubicle workers. Nuclear physicists. You know, average. But these actors get paid TONS more per show, than the actual professionals. I remember reading a really neat AOL article about it. For example, Steve Carrell, who plays the hilarious Michael Scott on “The Office” reportely makes $175,000 per episode. While a real Regional Manager gets paid around $65,000 a YEAR (according to PayScale.com). Our darling whiner Meredith Grey would make around $145,600 after her internship. Now, Pompeo earns about 200k per episode. *shakes head* Oh Hollywood, why dost thou find us little people so interesting? What happened to the days of Kings? Queen? Astronauts? There are very few movies about astronauts anymore.

Truth is, ‘reality’ sells. I like watching a hospital drama and then going to the ER thinking, huh, wonder who my Doctor is sleeping with today. Unfortunatly (for me or them?), those things just don’t really happen. Or at least, if they do, it’s so rare, we don’t get to hear all the juicy details.

Poor Mary. She has like 32 hour shifts. She sits in the hospital for hours. She makes people feel better and sends them home. She’s lost patients. And she has none of the McDreamy’s, McSteamy’s, or married intern sleeping with his best friend because he’s drunk drama to cling to. How? How could one live such a life?

I swear, I’d make drama myself. Then get kicked out of the medical program for good. Hence the reason I became a writer.

I added 2k to my WIP tonight, moving me up to 40k. All while on sleeping pills and stimulants. No, I’m not a druggie. Stimulants=prescription. Sleeping pills for my aforementioned insomnia. lol

Yea, maybe I should write a tribute to freaking opium. ?