Food!

MMmmm....funfetti cupcakes and homemade icing while trying to lose weight. Delicious.

The journey, maaaan. It's all about the jouuuurney.

Don't ever stir after pouring rum into a freshly opened Coke bottle. Volcano science project. Big mess.

So, the story has been put on hold. But look on the bright side, I tell myself, because Mythbusters is having a contest where one can win and travel to Comic-con to meet them! An awesome alternative for my creative aspirations right now. If I can't write, I can take flight!

In other good news, I wrote a short children's story for my first class paper. I love projects like this. No finals, no midterms, just children's stories. AAAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Lovin' it. It's probably the first class setting that I felt completely comfortable speaking in.

Right, so what have we learned here? Shaken, not stirred.

Prints

I almost bought a knock-off impressionist painting today. Some resident painter employed by Bed, Bath & Beyond paints knock-offs of people like Jack Vettriano, which you can tell from the crude brushstrokes and no signature. But there is one called "Sounds of Silence" that's not that bad. It's bright. It's on the riverside. It's in reds and yellows. BUT it was $60, and thank goodness I held off until I researched who it was by because it had nooo name. Resident painter! HA!

I'm keeping my $60.

Alrighty. There's nothing more awkward than walking into a Chinese restaurant with a panda hat on. Just getting that out there.

Anyways, I came up with story idea #2. It's non-fiction, which is weird because I usually hate that genre. Stories are meant to take you out of this world, not rub your face in it. But we'll see where this one goes.

That's life

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

So I miss everyone. And everyone thinks it's lame when I mention that I miss them. So I try to not mention that I miss them, and focus on the lack of a job, prospects, or a decent salary...get chastised by younger sister for being depressing, and then miss them more.

No one from high school is the same. Everyone's changed just a fraction of an amount to make them never want to look at the school again. So they won't go to reunions until 20 years from now, and I won't even make the guest list because I never graduated from that first school. I had to move. Glorious, mal-adjusted, New York, whose high schoolers can't stand Sinatra on the intercom crooning about their place in the world. Who hates Sinatra??

On the bright side, I started writing my book.

And I'm staring at paintings of dancers, and motorcycles, and old cars with couples too cool to care, and I realize that I can't get there without this book. And on the way there it'll be some ludicrous job that won't pay nearly enough, and that's life. But you know what? On the way to that boring ass job, I'll be floating 9 feet off the ground in an air balloon, and those reports will be telling me that I've won the lottery, and that inevitably evil copy machine will be my arch nemesis, and Oh Yes. I will be victorious.

Light Bulb

Alright. That's it. I'm going to write a book.

Fiction, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, it all requires research, but I'll have the time this spring, so why not?  I don't have any ideas. That's alright. Neither did any other writer at first. I'm armed with one How To book, one Ideas Book for writers' block, and an Ed Hardy notebook. Of course, the How To book says to not talk about my book, but I figured that the occasion should be noted. It's refreshing. A book. No nine to five yet. Just writing.