Seeking Happy

I used to think that I would be happy if I had a boyfriend.

But I was fat. Fat girls don't get boyfriends, right? That was why I never had one for more than a couple months, and why I would go years in between guys.

I would be prettier if I lost weight. I would get a boyfriend if I lost weight. I could finally be happy if I lost weight. This was what I told myself.

So I tried and tried. I lost some pounds here, some pounds there, but then I found them again, and they brought friends. I got even more fat.

Then, I realized that a boyfriend wasn't the answer. I don't need a boyfriend to be happy. I have a family. I have my friends. Why do I need a man when I have myself and my cat? I'm already pretty.

I started to make changes in my life. I bought a car. I bought a condo.

I began to feel happy.

But I also started to have some health problems. So I talked to a doctor. Maybe if I tried losing weight for different reasons, it would be a different experience. Maybe it could have different results.

I began to eat more fruits and vegetables. I went on walks. I stopped drinking pop and eating a lot of sugar.

I've had a boyfriend for almost 6 months.

I've lost almost 100 pounds.

I'm still sad a lot of the time. But overall, I'm happier than I was before. And it's not because I have a boyfriend and it's not because I've lost weight.

This is all a journey. I will continue to seek out the changes in life that will lead to more happy days.

A Devastating Discovery

Since I started my adventure towards health this fall, I've made a number of changes to how I eat. Smaller meals, more vegetables, that sort of thing. Part of the whole deal is working with a doctor, and that involves medication. Medications come with side effects.

I thought everything I was feeling was related to that whole process. I had chalked it all up to medication side effects, to more vegetables, to my body getting used to eating smaller meals and not being able to eat as much food as I did before.

I was feeling sick to my stomach after almost every meal. I never actually threw up or anything, but it was very uncomfortable. As a person who was used to eating very large meals, this was difficult. So I stopped eating huge meals. Then I started having issues with feeling hungry. And I couldn't tell if I was hungry or sick. And I would eat a piece of candy and feel like I wanted to vomit, so there was clearly something wrong.

Then, one day, I ate some Ben & Jerry's ice cream and had a very strange reaction. My mouth got tingly, like what I hear a mild allergic reaction is like. It's kind of like the "pins and needles" feeling you get when your hand or foot falls asleep, only not quite. I also really didn't feel good. I assumed it was because I finished the pint of ice cream anyway, despite the tingles. It still tasted good. It just felt weird.

That was the first time I noticed it.

Then I noticed it again, when I was at work. It was my tongue, lips, and up into my nose that felt all tingly this time. So, naturally, I went to WebMD and entered my symptoms into their little symptom checker thing (never do this). It told me that it was most likely that I was having a "transient ischemic attack," or a "mini-stroke." Basically, it's like a stroke, but the symptoms just last a few minutes. However, if you have one of these, it means that you are at a high risk of having a real stroke in the near future. Usually I just laugh at what WebMD says I might have (once it said I had postpartum depression), but this was while I was on antibiotics for cellulitis - so it could be that what I thought was cellulitis had been a blood clot after all and it had traveled up into my brain and was in the process of giving me a stroke. I had gone through all of this in my mind.

But it lasted more than a few minutes. It lasted more than an hour. And I didn't have any other symptoms of a stroke. Just the numbness/tingling feeling. The upset stomach I constantly feel is unrelated to a stroke.

Yesterday, I figured out the missing link. It's a food that I eat almost every day. Every time I feel the tingles in my mouth, the upset stomach, I ate the same food. Sometimes it's worse than other times, and I'm pretty sure I know why.

Every  morning at work, I have a Luna bar for breakfast. The flavor? Chocolate-dipped Coconut. The piece of candy I ate that made me want to vomit? Reese's Peanut-butter cup. The thing I ate on Saturday that made me feel so bad that I had to stay home and miss a party on Saturday night? One piece of super delicious 60% cacao dark chocolate. My mouth tingled for hours after that. Hours. I was fine before it.

Chocolate is the culprit. The darker it is, the worse I feel. I'm going to have to give it up.

This is one of the saddest realizations of my life.

Diet Coke

I quit drinking Diet Coke on 1/1/14.

Today it is 10/1/14, and I haven't had a drop in between.

I've had sugary sodas (who knew - I actually like sugary Pepsi more than sugary Coke!), and I've developed an affinity for iced tea. But I've avoided all diet drinks.

In a full 9 months, here are the changes I have noticed:

- I have gained weight (just a few pounds, less than 10)
- I get mild toothaches occasionally
- Based on lab results from doctor's visits, my glucose levels indicate I am now "pre-diabetic"

That's it. I thought it would have some sort of effect on my headaches in the long term, but it hasn't.

I still think about my old friend Diet Coke nearly every day. I stand in front of the vending machine at work. I know I should get a fizzy water. What I want is Diet Coke. I usually end up with a Snapple Raspberry Iced Tea.

After giving up booze in 2013, I noticed that I didn't miss it much except for certain situations. Ball games. Parties. And the main reason I quit - heartburn - was actually resolved by not drinking. I only got heartburn after gorging myself on Mexican food. I started drinking again in 2014, though in much smaller quantities.

I've started seeing a doctor about my weight. When I told her that I stopped drinking Diet Coke (and pretty much all artificial sweeteners in the process), she seemed surprised. And I'm well aware that I replaced it with something worse (sugar). But I do choose actual sugar (as opposed to high fructose corn syrup) when I have the option. And sometimes I do take the fizzy water. Or unsweetened iced tea. But the doctor seemed to imply that while sugar is a natural ingredient, in the case of sodas, a person like me might be better off with the chemicals.

I started seeing a dietitian, as well, in conjunction with the weight loss doctor. She's very nice. She was also baffled by my choice to replace a zero-calorie beverage with something high caloric. I explained what I did with alcohol last year. I told her that I want to finish out the year this year, for the sake of my goals. I don't want to back down. She understood this. She asked if I would start drinking Diet Coke again in January.

After hearing the reactions from two medical professionals (an MD and a licensed dietitian), I have decided to take up Diet Coke again in the New Year much in the same way I took up alcohol again this year. I'll consume it sparingly. Hopefully a year without it will have taught me to savor it when I get to have it. I don't want to deprive myself entirely, because I'm always going to want something sweet to drink - I've been drinking sweet things for far too long to change that habit now. I will still avoid buying cases of it to keep in my house - I haven't done that in a long time because then I won't drink any water at all. I learned that lesson. But I'll also try not to drink it every day at work. Hopefully I've come far enough that I can live without it most days.

I know a lot of you are going to be disappointed to hear this. The stuff is basically poison. I know that. But at the same time, while an addict, I never really consumed the vast quantities that really seemed dangerous in the long run. I would have a can at work (two on a bad day), then a couple 20-oz bottles on the weekend. If I went out to eat, I would order a Diet Coke. And that's it. It's not that bad.

Man. All this talk about Diet Coke is making my mouth water. 3 more months to go...

Day in the Life

Here’s a little bit about what it’s like being a fat person.

Today at work, we had a taco lunch for Cinco de Mayo. I LOVE tacos. They’re one of my favorite foods. I ate 3 tacos and had some chips and salsa. There were also a couple piñatas filled with candy, so I took a handful of Tootsie Rolls after they had all fallen to the floor.

As people started leaving the lunchroom, the organizers of the lunch announced that there were plenty of taco fixings left. Everyone grumbled something about how full they were and went back to their desks. I was part of this “everyone.”

Though, in all honesty, I could eat another taco. Probably another two or three tacos. But I’m not doing it because I’m already the biggest person in the office. I don’t need to draw attention to myself.

I don’t get bullied around here. People here know me well enough, and I know they respect me for who I am and the work that I do. They know me on a personal level, and that’s great. But I still find myself doing things like restricting my taco intake for the sake of the image I present to others. I don’t want them to be thinking “of course Becky is eating another taco! All she does is eat!” even though they’d never say it out loud. I won’t give them that fuel.

Even though, for all I know, they aren’t thinking that sort of thing at all.

These are the things you think about when you’re a fat person.

Hmm, now that everyone has cleared out of the lunch room, I think I might go heat up another taco…

Rape in Gamer Culture

I was playing Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn over the weekend, as I often do. It’s a Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game (MMORPG). For those of you who are unsure what that means, it’s basically a big virtual world (usually in some sort of sci-fi/fantasy setting) where thousands of players from around the world create characters and have fun adventuring, killing monsters and finding treasure. Perhaps you’ve heard of World of Warcraft. This game is similar to that.

It was Sunday morning, and I was running a dungeon instance for some in-game currency.  This means that I was placed onto a separate server with a group of 7 other people, possibly from a number of different servers than the one I regularly play on. Once you’re in the instance, you don’t really have contact with the rest of the game and the 8 of you make up a party all fighting for a common goal, working towards defeating the boss at the end of the instance.

The party is made up of 8 players: four damage dealers, who do the bulk of the killing; two tanks, who wear heavy armor and take all the damage to save the others; and two healers, who try to keep the whole team alive. I was playing as a damage dealer. The instance we were running was familiar to all of us, and we were all just running it to get our daily allotment of in-game currency. We were trying to get through as quickly as possible.

Inevitably, one of the damage dealers makes a mistake and dies. The character’s lifeless body is in a heap on the ground. Even though the character is dead, he can still speak with the rest of the party via the chat box on the screen. He tells the healers that he died so they would have something to do (up until this point it had been a clean run and no one had died). Then he tried to make a joke.

“They raped me,” he typed.

In gamer culture, this is not uncommon. If a particular boss is giving someone a beating, it’s not unusual for the person to say that they are being raped by the boss. It always makes me uncomfortable. If someone complains about something not going their way, they are said to be “butthurt” about the topic. I hate this just as much.

But on Sunday when I was playing, and this person said that he was essentially raped to death, it didn’t stop. The rape talk continued. One of the tanks chimed in, adding more “jokes” about rape and being raped. After it went on for about 10 more minutes, I had to do something.

I had a few options: I could have turned off the chat log and ignored it. I could have dropped out of the duty. But I didn’t want to turn off my chat log because I might have missed something actually necessary for completing the dungeon (there is one fight in the instance that works best if you coordinate with your teammates, and party chat is the only way to do that). I didn’t want to drop out of the duty because then I would have missed out on the in-game currency (the only reason I was in there in the first place). So I chose option C: speak up.

“Can we please stop with all the rape talk?” I asked.

I was then told (by the original offender, referred to now as Player D) that I had too much emotion associated with the word – that “rape” was just a word and I needed to get over it.

Then I decided I needed to give a lecture. I’m paraphrasing here, but I said that our culture (meaning gamer culture in general) tends to trivialize rape, which teaches people that it’s ok to rape people. But it’s never ok.

Player D replied and said that our culture isn’t teaching people that it’s good to rape.

I replied that I wasn’t saying that people thought that rape was good, just that the way everyone talks about rape so casually was telling people that it was ok to do it and that they could get away with it. That it happens far more often than is reported. And it is never ok.

Player D had another retort for me, and again told me that I needed to take the emotion out of the word.

I decided at this time that my words were falling on deaf ears, and I said one last thing. “Just remember that you never know if someone you meet has been the victim of sexual assault. And that’s all I’m going to say about the matter.”

At that point, Player D apologized, in a half-assed way. “Sorry if I offended you,” or something like that. But he kept making jokes and snide remarks throughout the rest of the dungeon.

Final Fantasy XIV has a system in place where if you’re in a dungeon instance with other random players, after it’s concluded, you can award a player commendation to the person you felt was the MVP. Most of these points are awarded to tanks and healers because of the nature of their jobs. As a damage dealer, I rarely got any commendations. Player D was joking at the end that he probably wasn’t going to get any commendations.

I awarded my commendation to the healer who kept his mouth shut during the dungeon. I was personally awarded two commendations, which was interesting. Perhaps my message got through to people.

Even so, after the instance concluded, I went to add Player D to my blacklist (an in-game function so you never have to see messages from that person again), but he wasn’t from my server, so it wasn’t an option. I reported him for harassment, though. Square Enix, the company that makes the game, takes these reports very seriously, so I hope I taught Player D a lesson.

Here’s the thing: in gamer culture, rape talk is commonplace. The community is mostly made up of young males in their teens and twenties (though the age range is growing as the general gaming populace is aging), but I happen to know many women who play this particular game, and I know more women who play others. Women are also a growing demographic in games.

We women gamers need to take a stand. Men, you need to get involved, too. We can’t let the rape talk continue. I don’t care what Player D said back in that dungeon. I stand by what I said. The prevalence of rape talk in our culture is teaching our boys and young men that rape is normal. That it’s trivial. That it’s a part of life. That offenders can do it and get away with it. That if you are raped, it’s meaningless, and that it was probably your fault.

RAPE SHOULD NEVER BE ANY OF THOSE THINGS.

It’s not “just a word.” We need to stop seeing it as that, and we need to stop using it that way. It has to have meaning, emotion, feeling. Because otherwise how will anyone know how awful it really is? How will we learn if it’s just treated as a joke?

A friend of mine posted a question on Facebook the other day. She asked that if we had just one wish for the world right now, what would it be. I said mine was that I wish that no woman anywhere would ever again have to live in fear of violence or abuse.

So I beg: please, if you hear about someone casually joking about rape, say something. Speak up. Tell them that the jokes aren’t funny.  Speak up. Have a voice. Someone will listen. The more we speak up, the more people will listen. Then we can start to see change.

Why I Quit Drinking

I am the sort of person who enjoys drinking a nice cold beer now and again. Maybe I'm sitting outside, taking in a ballgame... the sun is beating down. Nothing tastes better than an ice cold beer in that situation. I believe that. There are other times when I really want a margarita, or a nice glass of wine with dinner. I could be out with friends and find myself interested in sampling a specialty cocktail on the restaurant's menu. Or maybe it's time to sample a friend's new home brew that he bottled a while back.

I like those situations. I like drinking. In general, I feel that I'm also pretty smart about it most of the time. As someone without a car, its pretty easy to find yourself in a situation where you don't have to worry about driving home. And since I've arrived in my 30s, I've noticed that it's just not as important anymore to drink as much as possible on any given occasion. I just don't see the point anymore.

Something else happened, though. I noticed something, right around the end of December last year. Every night after I had had a drink (any drink, doesn't matter what it was), I woke up in the wee hours of the morning with nasty heartburn sent straight from the fires of hell. Any heartburn that's strong enough to wake you up in the middle of the night is pretty bad, but this was easily the worst. And I take (generic) Zantac on a daily basis to prevent heartburn. I've been taking it for years, as recommended by my doctor.

Once I made the connection that drinking = heartburn, I knew I had to test the theory. So I resolved that starting on January 1 of 2013, I would quit drinking. Cold turkey.

It feels kind of cliche, making it a new year's thing. But I had to start some time, and it seemed as good as any. Besides, I also wanted to start saving money, and booze is expensive.

I was also a bit curious of how difficult it would be. I didn't believe that I was addicted to alcohol, but that was the thing - a lot of people who have an addiction aren't even aware of it. And I know there is a history of addiction in my family. I wanted to see if I could do it.

Today is July 28, 2013. I haven't had any alcohol since December.

It was around February when I realized that this whole thing wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. I had really slowed down my consumption in the last few years, and it wasn't hard to cut it out entirely. Social situations were the most difficult, when everyone around me was drinking and I was stuck with a Diet Coke. But I was succeeding. That's when I decided to put an end date on my personal prohibition. I would just say no for the rest of 2013.

One year. No alcohol. Piece of cake, right?

Yeah, not really. Sitting at a Twins game at Target Field, sun shining, and the only vendors who seem to be walking up and down the aisles are the guys with Grain Belt Nordeast. That was my favorite ballpark beer. But I'm not spending $8 for a beer that is barely worth $2, so that's something. I'm saving money.

There are other tough situations, too. It was a little depressing to realize that I wouldn't be able to continue some rituals that I observe every year. A margarita on my birthday. A "beergarita" at the State Fair. Wine on Thanksgiving, cocktails made by my dad on Christmas Eve. I'll miss those. But I can live without them. It's just for one year, after all.

I'm thinking that after this year is done, I'll be so used to not drinking that I'll just choose to go without more often than not in the future. I'd like to continue saving money.

Oh, you were wondering about the heartburn? I still get it every once in a while, but it's usually explained in some way. After drinking a lot of lemonade, for example, or after eating a lot of spicy Mexican food. I think it's safe to conclude that it was caused mainly by the drinking.

Ranting on a Song

You may or may not have heard of the British boy band One Direction, and you may or may not be familiar with their hit pop song “What Makes You Beautiful.” What follows is an in-depth analysis of that song, both musically and lyrically.

No. Scratch that. I’m too out of practice for a musical analysis and too lazy for an in-depth analysis of any kind. This will be a diatribe. A rant. Yes, I know the song has been out for a while now, but it's been stuck in my head for about a week now, so this is fresh in my mind.

I’m going to start out by saying that, hands down, this is my favorite song of the last few years. I LOVE this song. It’s catchy and adorable and super easy to sing along to. It’s fantastic. If you like the boy-band pop music genre, then this song is awesome. I want to be the girl that they’re singing about!

But today I thought about it. Do I really want to be that girl?

The very first line states, “You’re insecure.” Wait a minute. I don’t want to be that girl! I hate when I feel insecure. It’s not fun. And even though the rest of the verse refutes the girl’s perceived need for insecurity, she still feels insecure. She’s shy. She doesn’t notice when people look at her, when they notice her. Heck, some days I am this girl! But not most days. I generally feel pretty good about myself lately. And I don’t know if I want to go back to being a shy girl.

But here’s what gets me with this song… the more I listen to it, the more I realize how creepy these guys are. They’re watching you. They’re clearly attracted to you (they do get “overwhelmed” over a mere hair flip, after all). They pay enough attention to know that you don’t wear any makeup.

Listen, Liam, Harry, et. al., you’re doing it wrong. You want to be with this girl? You want her to feel as beautiful as she supposedly is? Then you need to stop stalking her and actually talk to her. She’s terrified of you. She’s looking at the ground because she’s trying to avoid eye contact. She knows very well that everyone looks at her when she walks in the room, and she hates it. Attention? That’s bad. So be careful when you approach her. Please.

All kidding aside, though, initially I loved the message in this song. It’s positive, right? You’re shy and quiet, and you’re beautiful – even if you don’t see that in yourself. But you know what? It’s not really very positive at all. This isn’t the message we need to be sending to girls. They don’t need to be encouraged to be shy and meek and quiet. I’ve struggled with dating through half my life, and I sought out advice from everywhere I could find it. And you know what was the number 1 thing I saw that was supposed to help you? Confidence. Feeling good about yourself, having good self-esteem and a high self-worth – these are the things that actually make you beautiful. Of course, that seems to have gotten me nowhere with the men-folk, but even so – I think I just haven’t met the right guys yet.

It’s disappointing to realize this about a song that I’ve loved so much. But what can I do? It’s stuck in my head and it won’t go away. I’ll continue to enjoy the song. I can’t help it. But I have thought about it, and I wanted to share that with everyone. And now I have.

New Blog!

Don't worry, I'm still keeping this one. But I also created a new one.

Check it out: Fat, Happy, and Healthy

I'm also going to try to post here more often. I'm sorry I've been so distant. What, I made 3 posts in the last year? Two? Yikes. Some blogger I am. I'm going to have to get better about that...

A Day Off

Hooray for Presidents Day!

Whenever I have a day off from work, I tend to think about all the things I want to get done. I'm going to do all the laundry, all the dishes, and clean every room in the apartment from top to bottom. I've got a whole extra day!

It's now 5:30 pm on my day off. Let's make a list of the things I've done today:

1. Slept in until 8.

2. Caught up on TV shows saved in my DVR.

3. Played Roller Coaster Tycoon 3 Platinum and reached "Tycoon" status on 3 different levels.

4. Watched 3 episodes of West Wing on Netflix.

5. Started 1 load of dishes in the dish washer.

Yeah. Not very impressive, unless you're a geek like me and impressed with my progress in a video game that's almost 10 years old. I haven't even gotten dressed.

I feel it necessary to point out that I did do ALL my laundry last weekend. So the lack of laundry today isn't as shameful as it would normally be.

But I haven't really done anything today. After this load of dishes is done, I'm going to load up the dishwasher with another load. Because there are far too many dirty dishes and they didn't all fit in the dishwasher - and I really didn't want to wash them by hand. I hate washing dishes by hand.

I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not a complete failure for my lack of accomplishment today. I needed this day off - a legitimate holiday, and not a sick day or planned vacation day. A day where I'm not stuck worrying about what's going on at work when I'm not there - because no one is there, or at least no one should be (though, knowing my coworkers, there are probably some people doing some work at home today).

But there's the other part of me, the logical side, that tells me that I'm over 30 and still stuck with the mentality of someone just out of college. I'm still thinking, "I'm an adult, I can do whatever I want." Then I wonder why I haven't evolved past this cookie-dough-for-breakfast* frame of mind. Why haven't I grown up? Why do I have such a hard time doing more than just sitting on my butt and watching Netflix and playing video games when my job is nice enough to give me a free day off to do all those things that I know need to be done?

I think there's something wrong with me, mentally, that makes me neglect my responsibility. I don't know what it is, but there's definitely something larger at work here than just flat-out laziness. I won't deny that I'm lazy, but I also think that there's a reason for it. Lazy isn't the cause, it's the symptom. But am I just making excuses for myself? I don't know. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm so lazy and know that, somewhere inside, I just refuse to let the rest of myself see it, and I make these excuses.

Either way, whatever it is, I didn't get much done today. But now it's time to feed the cat. That I will do.

*I did not actually have cookie dough for breakfast today. I had a bowl of cereal. And it wasn't even a kid cereal!

The F Word

My dad has a cute story about when I was a little girl. I came home from school one day and told him about how I heard some kids saying the "F word" on the bus. Eventually he convinces me to tell him what the word was, and I tell him.

"Fart."

I thought "fart" was the f-word.

Today you think it's something else. But today I'm presenting a new F-word.

Fat.

Fat is the new f-word.

I don't want it to be a bad word. In fact, I think it's be best possible descriptor for my body type. I don't like saying I'm "overweight." That word implies that my weight is something other than normal. But for me, this IS normal.

In my life, I've never known what it's like to be "normal," that is - to be thin. I've been "big" my whole life. At least as long as I can remember, since it meant something. So how can thin = normal if it's something I've never experienced?

I am fat. I'm not overweight. I am obese, but I don't like that word. It's so... clinical. So technical. And it just sounds... awful. I don't like that, and I don't like thinking of myself this way.

Can we change it so that "fat" isn't a bad word? I don't want to put people in an awkward place when I say that I'm fat (because that happens - I see it on their face - they want to agree with me, but don't want to actually say it because I might get offended).

All that being said, I'm not giving up entirely on the whole losing weight thing. I'm going to try again soon (not tonight), and maybe someday I'll describe myself as something other than fat. But it's who I am right now. I can't deny that. You can't deny that. But you also can't feel bad about it. I don't need your pity - that isn't the magic calorie burner we all secretly hope it is. I need support. Take me for who I am, for what I am, for what I look like. Don't judge me, just accept me, and be my friend.

Someday, soon, I'm going to need support, acceptance, and friendship. I'm going to need walking buddies and recipe sharers.

But for now, I just need you to realize that this is who I am for the time being. I'm fat. And I'm ok with that.

Oh, one more thing - can we all agree to stop pretending like people are stupid just because they're fat? We don't eat constantly, we know what it takes, and we're not idiots. We're also not going to keel over and die next week just because we're fat. Yes, we're at a higher risk for some medical conditions, but it's not a guarantee that we're never going to see 50. People die at young ages regardless of weight. And we're sick of hearing about it, so just give it a rest, ok? We're not stupid. We're just fat.

The Misery of Neil Patrick Harris

Have you read Steven King's "Misery"? Have you seen the movie? I haven't. But I know the subject matter.

See that chap in the picture up there? His name is Neil Patrick Harris. I brought him home a few weeks ago. What followed was a series of Facebook status updates about NPH locked in the TV room in my basement. To the uninformed reader, it seemed like I had kidnapped the human Neil Patrick Harris, and had him hobbled and locked in my basement.

All fun-and-games aside, I've been... a frazzled kitty-mommy in these first few weeks. While he was shut up in the TV room, I was worried about his eating habits, how he was constantly hiding. Then one day after he had free reign of the house, I couldn't find him when I got home from work. I freaked out, crying like a lunatic. He was fine, just hiding in the furnace room where I never go.

He's a lot more comfortable now. He even ventures up the stairs when he's feeling brave. Of course, he's kind of become attached to me. He meows a lot. He actually comes when I call him (sometimes he takes his time, but sometimes he comes running). He likes being petted.

He's a strange cat. He has no interest in catnip, but he has been known to chase his tail. I've seen it happen. He seems to get sad and upset when I'm not paying attention to him. It's like I got a fluffy cat-shaped puppy that knows how to use a litter box. But he does purr a lot. I like the purring.

I like having a cat. It's nice to have a pet and a companion. But it's still new. I'm still getting used to it. But I'm happy.

I'm already in love with the Neil Patrick Harris who lives in my basement.

Writing Update

So, it's been a while. Blogger sure has changed since I last posted in here!

All right. Remember how I was doing that whole writing-a-novel thing back in November? November is done and gone, and I emerged triumphantly with the first draft of a mediocre novel. Hooray!

Seriously, mediocre is a good thing for me. This was my 8th year participating in National Novel Writing Month, and it's the third time I've finished. It's the first time I've had a novel that I've even wanted to look at after the month was over - mediocre is the best I've achieved so far. In nearly a decade. So I'm going to take it and run with it.

I printed out the first couple chapters the other day, and I read the first two. It doesn't suck. It's not good, and it needs a ton of work, but I think I can actually do this.

For the first time, I'm going to seriously work on this thing to try to get it published. I'm actually feeling like a writer now - not just someone who wants to maybe be a writer someday. I'm a writer now. I'm going to make this thing good, I'm going to shop it around. I'll probably get a lot of rejections. But maybe someone will see the promise and give me a chance, like the guys who picked my story for the 30 Covers, 30 Days project.

Think about it - House Hunting in the Afterlife could be a real, honest-to-goodness book someday!

So I want to take this chance to say thank you to all of you, my loyal readers, for supporting me, encouraging me, for continuing to ask about my novel and word count during November. Thank you for taking an interest, and keeping me interested in my own project. It doesn't stop here. I just have a first draft. I need you all to keep encouraging me - ask me how the editing is going, ask to be one of my beta readers. I can't do this alone.

Thank you.

Inspiration

Here is my motivation, my inspiration, my determination to finish my NaNoWriMo novel this year.

This is my cover:

Awesome, right?

It was designed by Scott Buschkuhl, who is a real, actual designer.

I absolutely love it. It's so perfect - now I just need to write a novel that lives up to its cover!

A New November

Once again, November is upon us. Once again, I'll be writing a novel.

I'm rather excited about this one. The novel itself is interesting, and different than anything I've written before. I'm delving into the humor/satire genre for the first time. I really hope it ends up being as funny as it is in my head. We won't know until I start writing, though.

It's called "House Hunting in the Afterlife." Here's the synopsis I wrote for the National Novel Writing Month website:

A young professional looking to buy her first house goes to bed one night dreaming of vaulted ceilings and hardwood floors and wakes up to the end of the world. After a quick stop at Target to see if they have any Missoni products left, she takes the Afterlife's Parade of Eternal Homes tour. If you're going to be living in a house for the rest of time, you better make sure it's something you can stand.

As I said, I'm excited about it. Another tag line could be, "In Heaven you don't need to bathe - in Hell, you don't get to."

It's funny, right? Man, I hope so.

There's something that the powers that be at NaNoWriMo headquarters have started doing the past few years. It's a project called "30 Covers, 30 Days." The idea is that a team of professional designers create covers for 30 novels being written each November. Based solely on the title and synopsis, I submitted my name for consideration. The other day, I got an email from the head of the team who picks the novels. "House Hunting in the Afterlife" was chosen as a finalist - my title and synopsis were being sent to a designer, who is also given 2 other titles for consideration. He gets to choose which one he'll make a cover for.

He picked my novel.

I got an email today asking for some more details on the novel, but the designer is reportedly "super excited" to design a cover for me.

To put this into perspective, thousands of people participate in NaNoWriMo worldwide. Hundreds (if not thousands) of people submitted titles for consideration to the 30 Covers, 30 Days project. 30 novels are chosen in the end. One cover, one novel, each day in November. One of those is mine.

One day in November, you'll see the cover for "House Hunting in the Afterlife." I'll be sure to share it with you.

Blog Challenge: Day 5

Day 5: A photo of yourself two years ago.



Yup, that's me two years ago. At least, the date the photo was uploaded to Facebook was two years ago. Actually, now that I think about it, that might be older than two years ago. How about another one?

Hmm. This is proving difficult. Two years ago was 2009. In 2009, Domo came into my life. I have a LOT of pictures of Domo. Like this one:



That was during Domo's first trip to Vegas, an he was enthralled by the Enchanted Unicorn slot machines.

Or this one:



Domo and a gorilla at the zoo in Omaha. That was his first trip with me. I found him in Omaha.

And of course, in 2009, Domo also traveled to Mexico:



He was a little paranoid about Mayan sacrifices.

Oh, and he also helped me move in 2009. Here's a picture from that:



All right, that's probably enough Domo pictures.

I'm completely amused that I took a blog post that was supposed to be all about me and turned it into a photo album of Domo around the world. I love blogging.

Blog Challenge: Day 4

Day 4: Your favorite photograph of your best friend.

Ok, so this one is a little awkward. I don't really want to just post a photo of my best friend without her consent - and since I don't even use names (other than my own) in this blog, I'm not going to to post her face as well. So here's her tattoo.



She's got a story behind that as well, but it's also not my place to tell that story. But it looks cool, doesn't it?

I've known her for 20 years. Since 5th grade. That's a really long time. There are few people in this world (especially if you exclude family) who I've known that long. Even fewer people if you factor in who I'm still in touch with. From those early years? In touch with very few people I've known for 20 years or more.

Normally she and I would be hanging out tonight. It is Friday, after all. But she's busy tonight. Since I don't have a car, she's usually the rock star who drives me around, even though I'm often out of her way. We usually hang out on Fridays. Fridays are fun.

Ugh. I just realized how horrible this blog post is going. It's not fun to read, is it? I'm not really having the most fun writing it. Maybe it's time I told a story about my best friend.

Back in the day (were we in high school?), we decided to write a novel together. We didn't have a plan, we didn't have a plot. We didn't even have characters - though we probably hadn't even put an entire page of writing onto paper before we had a concept and a working title: A Princess and Some Dragons. And from there, the story of Camielle and the dragons began. I would describe it as a young adult novel. We did finish it, if you can believe it. We finished the first draft and started rewrites. The file still exists somewhere on my computer, and I believe I have an old printout of one of our drafts. I was supposed to send it off to a publisher after so many years, regardless of whether or not we had finished the revisions, but I haven't done it yet.

Maybe it's time to revisit "A Princess and Some Dragons." Actually, the title ended up being "The Dragon Stone," I believe. And we were going to make it into a trilogy.

I think I have a project for the weekend...

Blog Challenge: Day 3

I'm behind a day - yesterday I literally didn't have time to do my post, unless I wanted to compose it and post from my phone - and I'm really not patient enough to deal with that keyboard long enough for a blog post. So here's day 3.

Day 3 - Your idea of the perfect first date.

I've been on a LOT of first dates. A lot of them - the majority, in fact - suck.

But in order to have a perfect first date, you have to have the perfect guy. He has to be able to hold up his end of a conversation. He has to be able to pay for his small coffee at Caribou with something more substantial than the pennies from his couch cushions. He has to be dressed appropriately, and he has to show that he at least cares a little bit about personal hygiene.

Of course, the event itself does matter. I mentioned Caribou Coffee - that's not a bad place for a first date. I always like coffee shops because it satisfies the whole "public place" requirement (since I meet all my dates on the internet and you have to be safe), and I enjoy coffee. And it's nice to have something caffeinated in case your date is a snooze. It's important to do something social. A movie sounds like a good idea at first, but you never get to talk to anyone at a movie - without being an ass, anyway.

You know what would be really fun on a first date? Mini-golf. Vaguely sporty without requiring much physical exertion (minimal sweat), and plenty of opportunity to talk and get to know one another. This could especially be good if it were someone you were already friends with. There's plenty of potential for playful teasing. It would be awesome!

But I don't want to think too much about dating right now, because it just gets me down. Gotta think about other things. Like the fact that Project Runway is on tonight!

Blog Challenge: Day 2

Day 2 – A photo of something you ate today.



Tomatoes. I ate tomatoes today.

They're my after-work snack today. I did not have tomatoes on my Subway sandwich today. I always look at the tomatoes before they add them to my sandwich. They looked sad and nearly white today. The Subway employee even got out another tub of tomatoes to see if any of those looked better, but they didn't. Very disappointing, considering it's tomato season right now. You'd think they could get some local produce. Eat Fresh, my ass.

I should have tried to grow tomatoes this year. Never got around to it early in the spring, and then I was sick for a month. After that, it was too late. I'd like to successfully eat something that I've grown myself, but so far that hasn't been possible. Last year, the tomato plant died due to lack of nutrients in the soil - that's the only explanation I can come up with, because it got decent sun and plenty of water. The year before (using potting soil instead of just the dirt in the ground) we got actual tomatoes on the tomato plant, but the squirrels always got to the fruit before it got ripe, and the plant never had much of a yield.

Maybe next year. Of course, I don't know where I'll be living next year. I plan to move in the spring, and I might be getting an apartment or condo that doesn't have a balcony or any sort of garden-type opportunity. But that's ok. Someday I'll get there. Someday I'll be able to eat a tomato I grew myself.

Blog Challenge: Day 1

This is a 30-day Blog Challenge.

I need to work on getting back into the blog, and I think this will be the way to succeed. It's a kick in the pants.

I'm back, Blog-land!

Challenge Day 1: A photo of yourself and a description of how your day was.



That's me. It's laundry day. My biggest challenge today was figuring out how to take a picture with the webcam on my netbook. This picture you see is the result. That's me.

In all seriousness, though, my day was a typical Monday. Work always feels rushed on Mondays because we have a meeting in the morning - every week. It's good, really, but I never feel like there's enough time for my work. I was already a little behind because some things took longer than I expected they would at the end of last week. Very frustrating, but at the same time, I'm a better worker when I'm busy, so that's good, in the end.

The other good thing about being at work is that work is delightfully air-conditioned. I'm living in an AC-free house right now, and it's really been a rough summer. There's been a lot of humidity and heat, and it's really been wreaking havoc on my leg.

Of course, the storms came through today. I work downtown in one of the kinda-tall buildings, and I could hear the thunder. I could also hear the wind, making the building creak and squeak. It doesn't inspire confidence, but I know that the building is designed to withstand the weather. It was still raining slightly when I left the office in the afternoon, and it felt fantastic. The humidity was still there (obviously), but the temperature had really gone down. It was a nice break, but I already feel the heat creeping back up again.

So, there you have it - a boring blog post for a boring day. But that's just the way it goes. Some days are boring, right?

Hospital Living: Part 2

By the time I was admitted and had a room at the hospital on Thursday, I realized that I hadn't eaten all day other than two pieces of toast, and that had been breakfast.

I'm entertained by this hospital because they call the food service "Room Service." When you get your bed, they give you a menu (unless you're on a special diet, in which case the doctors and nurses decide what you should be eating). I'm on a general diet, meaning I have no restrictions so I can eat whatever I want, and whenever I want. However! Don't try to call in your dinner order after 6:30 PM, because that's when room service stops taking orders.

Of course, I'm just starting to get settled in my room (a private room with a horrible view but decent TV), and the nurse points out that it's almost 6:30, so I should order my tray (they don't refer to it as a meal or food - aways as "your tray"). Quickly glancing at the menu, I select the lemon baked cod and small garden salad.

I wait for my food.

I'm starting to get hungry.

Suddenly my transport arrives. They want to do another ultrasound on my leg just to be sure there are no clots.

My nurse says they'll leave my tray, and it should be waiting for me when I return.

So, I mentioned a transport up there. After being admitted to the hospital, I haven't had to walk anywhere - beyond the bathroom, that is. They always bring a wheelchair. It is a good thing because I don't think I could have walked all the way to the ultrasound and back. But I didn't even have to walk to my room in the first place. A kid (who looked way too young to have a job at a hospital and way too scrawny to push around someone my size) brought a wheelchair and brought me to my room.

Anyway, back to the ultrasound. Under normal circumstances, they probably wouldn't hurt anyone. But with my swollen and burning leg, the procedure is awful. It hurts to have anything touch my leg at any given time. For the ultrasound, they need to touch my leg. Youchies.

When I got back, my tray had arrived. I sit on the edge of the bed and have at it.

It's not the best fish, but I really wanted to eat, so I lifted the cover and was a little surprised at what I saw. It was a standard dinner plate, with a small piece of fish on it, next to a garnish of something green and a cherry tomato. That small side salad was truly a small side salad was truly that - small, sad little bowl with about 3 pieces of iceberg lettuce, a cucumber and another cherry tomato.

Hmm. Portion control is going to be a piece of cake.

Good thing I wasn't overly starving. I may have had nothing to eat all day, but this amount of food seemed perfect in context.

I ate a couple bites of fish, and it was good. But the next thing I knew a guy was there to drain half the blood from my body. He was nice, but I should have asked him what it was all for. He had to take samples from both arms. It took him a while of staring and prodding at my arms before deciding which one to poke - his personal philosophy as a lab tech was to poke people as few times as necessary, which he did for me.

Then I got to finish my dinner.

And now I'm done with this post because I'm getting loopy from the drugs and should probably take a nap. Once again, not proofreading. My apologies.