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Archive for October, 2013

I am still tired. I want to curl up in my nice warm bed and sleep for another century or so, for all that that would kind of screw up my evening. I don’t feel as though I have anything better to be doing at the moment, though, so maybe a nap would do me some good. It would probably be better to just cuddle up in bed and read for a while instead, since I didn’t get around to that yesterday. I could probably do some planning from bed, as well.

Let’s be honest, I’m mostly talking about getting into bed because in spite of the heat being on and my space heater running at top speed and temperature, I am still cold and I would like to live, just briefly, in a universe where my feet are not totally freezing. That universe usually involves curling up under the covers of my bed. If I had some nice flannel sheets, I might put those on my bed for optimum warmth, but I don’t have any nice flannel sheets, so I suppose I’ll just have to deal with it.

I would probably be not-bored and playing Pokemon at the moment if I could borrow my brother’s 3DS, but he’s going to let me have it when he leaves for school this week, so it seems polite to just let him do whatever with it until he leaves. I have all week, I keep telling myself, to waste time and raise my team and defeat gym leaders and so on. Instead of doing important stuff like updating this blog or maybe actually planning out my novel for NaNoWriMo.

Speaking of things I haven’t actually started doing. Ugh. I am kind of secretly hoping that my most recent lapse in creativity will end when I’ve got that huge deadline and goal hanging over me come November, but knowing my luck I’ll get about a thousand words in before I give up because it’s all awkward and weird and I can’t work on it without getting that queer tickling feeling in my arms that makes me want to claw them open and pull out whatever’s causing it.

That doesn’t make any sense.

I don’t know what this entry is supposed to be about. All I did was start writing, and as ever, one thing followed another until I started talking about the strange things that only make sense to me and which you probably won’t understand at all, if you’re even here reading this, which, let’s face it, if you gave up in paragraph two I don’t blame you. I’ve made it clear repeatedly over the last ten months how utterly fucking boring I am.

My birthday’s in ten days. I think I want to make pumpkin cupcakes for Halloween. I wish I had some money so I could put gas in my car and make sure my bank account doesn’t overdraw when their stupid-ass fee comes out and so I could maybe buy Robin McKinley’s new book and also start buying Christmas presents, not that I’m totally sure what everyone wants in the first place, and it’s so hard to shop for like five or six other grown adults. I wish I had a job. I wish I could just sleep forever sometimes. Not right now, though the thought of being cozy and warm for forever is kind of appealing because my feet are still cold and my space heater has a weird idea of how warm this room actually is at the moment.

I wanted to write 500 words, and it looks like I did just that. If you made it this far, you should get a medal. This entry is kind of inane as hell, and for that I apologize.

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(this has been a post)

I didn’t write a post yesterday because I got distracted by various and sundry things, by which I mean my brother came home with his 3DS and I played Pokemon for several hours. And then we went to see Gravity which was AMAZING AS HELL and I went to bed totally content and it wasn’t until I was drifting off to sleep that I realized I hadn’t written a blog post about anything (not that I really have anything to write blog posts about anymore).

I woke up really late today, partly because I went to bed at 2am and partly because my bed was warm and my room was cold and even if I didn’t like the dream I was having about being stuck in a weird-ass math class against my will, it was more appealing than getting up and shivering. So I was up at lunchtime rather than midmorning (or, heavens forfend, breakfasttime), and I spent a great deal of time playing Pokemon again because Pokemon, and I basically have spent all day (“day”) being really, really tired for no reason in particular. I’m still quite tired now, and I think I may be getting sick.

I’m probably wrong about that. I’ve had a runny nose for approximately the whole damn year, and the fact that I’m overtired could just be indicative of how horrible my sleep habits are (i.e., very horrible). The fact that my skin doesn’t quite feel like it fits over me could just be some odd funk that will be gone in the morning. You never know with these things, but given my general tendency towards health rather than sickness, I’m leaning towards “this is just a funk.” Though I know I’d be glad for an excuse to lounge in bed for a few days. Oh well.

I’m sure this headache will pass. My nose will probably keep being runny but uninfected or stopped up, and maybe a good night’s sleep will pull my skin more comfortably around my self. Who knows. It’s late; I’m tired; good night.

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I made some cookies.

I baked nine and a half dozen cookies today, for no other reason than that I wanted to, because I like cookies and I like baking and I have all this free time, so why not?

Having said that, I don’t know what else to write. There isn’t much of anything else to say, is there? No, not really. It took three and a half hours all told, which actually isn’t even most of the time I’ve been awake; I’ve spent more time fiddling with Cookie Clicker than actually in the kitchen mixing things and measuring them. I made two different kinds of cookies–plain sugar cookies with black and orange sugar crystals on top, and white chip chocolate cookies. They’re both recipes I rather like.

And I still don’t know what to say about it all. I mixed both batches up by hand, at more or less the same time. I have a KitchenAid mixer that I use infrequently. I don’t break it out for cookies all that often because I like to mix those up by hand, even if it gives me an almighty pain in my arm and shoulder. I feel kind of adorable and festive with the sugar cookies done in Halloween colors. The colored sugars came in a great big thingy full of other Halloween sprinkles and the like; I’m temped to make pumpkin cupcakes for the day itself, so I can get some use out of those before they go stale where they sit. I love the white chip cookies because they’re delicious. They sort of crumble up in your mouth, and the chocolate cookie and white chip flavors mix in a gentle, wonderful way.

I realize I keep saying that I have nothing to say, and yet keep finding things to say nonetheless, but that doesn’t really count. There’s no coherence here. It’s just thoughts and rambles, ideas about what I made today that don’t come together meaningfully at all.

I made some cookies because I like to make cookies. And that’s what I did with my day.

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A good day.

As ever, I am at a loss for what to write. It feels like I have done next to nothing with my day, though in truth I have done several things. I did some chores for once, and I watched my rented copy of Pacific Rim before I had to return it again. I spent probably too much time fiddling about with Cookie Clicker (DO NOT. GOOGLE., etc.), though I’m not really playing it so much as keeping an eye out for those ever-helpful golden cookies. I made dinner and went to the store for my mother. I’m going to bake a crapload of cookies tomorrow, I think, just because I can. Just because I like making things. I read a good chunk of my current book. I haven’t poked at my novel planning yet, but I might do before I go to bed.

I don’t have any stories to tell about my day. It was a day, and it happened like I told you (though not necessarily in that order). I spent half of Pacific Rim being delighted in it out loud, because you have the luxury for that sort of thing when you’re alone at home. I am diligently mathing my way through the last several achievements on the Cookie Clicker. I bought eggs and butter at the store for the express purpose of making cookies tomorrow (and also with the purpose of making egg sandwiches later). I getting through my book at a good pace and I’ll probably finish it either tonight or tomorrow, and then start on the next.

It was a good day. I more or less liked it, and I wouldn’t mind another like it.

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(this has been yet another post)

I haven’t actually started planning my novel yet, so I can’t write about that. In fact, I haven’t done much of anything today except run hither, thither, and yon on various errands before finally, finally getting here at the library for some peace and quiet. And while it’s nice to be out and about, it’s less nice when you use up half of your remaining gas in the process.

I would talk about how I actually got up before noon, but it’s kind of sad that that’s the sort of thing I’m proud of nowadays. And then again, if it makes me feel nice it is nice, and it’s like super nice in light of the fact that I went to bed at around 2am and didn’t sleep into the afternoon. So maybe I’ll just sit here and be proud of it anyway.

I’m still sort of pondering what to do with my novel. I decided a few weeks back to change my main character’s ethnicity because why not, and I’m still trying to figure out if that was a good idea or not, and in what ways it should affect how I write her, and so on. And it probably is and it probably shouldn’t, and I should just carry on with it. I know my basic plot, and it shouldn’t totally fall apart if I add a few more competent adults who weren’t there before. Which is to say, I suppose, that I should just get off my ass and start writing on it, there are only two weeks left before the 1st and I should like to be at least a little prepared when I set my fingers to keys.

And I should probably stop whinging about my problems about my problems here and just get to freaking work.

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Decision Point.

(It’s still today until I go to bed or sunrise, whichever comes first.)

I think I have resigned myself to the fact that I am doing NaNoWriMo. I can’t actually imagine what I would do with my November otherwise, and writing something, anything, will make a nice change from whatever what-have-you I get up to usually. (i.e., all that Internet video game nonsense.) No, I don’t actually have a set and concrete plan, but I’ve started most of my Novembers like that, so there’s no reason why this one should be any different.

I will probably sit down and try to figure something out, though. It’s nice to know where you’re going, even in a most basic sense. I know who my characters are, more or less, and I have a rough idea of the plot, I just need to hash it out into a paragraph or six or something. I don’t actually know what I’m doing. I never know what I’m doing. I’m surprised I made it this far, actually, calling myself a writer, because it’s times like these that I really don’t feel like one.

Anyway, I suppose tomorrow I will start trying to work on this book. I will get things like POV and plot and extra supporting characters figured out. I will start dedicating time to writing instead of time to video games and Tumblr and TV shows. Though maybe not TV shows, you know, I missed tonight’s Sleepy Hollow and there’s a new Agents of SHIELD and I’m two episodes behind on Korra and… okay. The point is that work is going to start tomorrow and maybe I’ll post about it a little and maybe I won’t, I’m still not sure at this point.

I know this is short, but hell if I know what else to write. It’s late and I’m tired, etc. Until tomorrow. And the day after that as well.

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I still don’t know what to write. For some reason, returning to my old stand-by of television reviews feels too much like cheating, but I haven’t been doing anything else interesting with my life to warrant talking about. I have spent a great deal of time reading these last few days, which I mentioned not so long ago. I’m working through all of Robin McKinley’s books that I own, and I own all of them save her short story collections and her newest novel. So the reading is something of a good excuse, for all that I’ve done it crouched at my desk with one eye on the Cookie Clicker (DO NOT GOOGLE, etc.). On the other hand, I feel like there are certain other things I should be getting around to, such as deciding once and for all if NaNoWriMo is going to be a Thing this year, and if so, shouldn’t I really get around to putting together a loose plan for said NaNoWriMo project?

And then a little part of me shrugs and I shuffle through my book again, because it seems an age and a half since I’ve really done a lot of reading. Which is all well and good, I suppose, except that the things I think I ought to be doing often drive me half mad because I don’t do them because I’m… reading. Or cookie clicking. Or iPhone fiddling, or Tumblr-ing (Tumbling?), or doing all the many-splendored things that are not what I think I ought to be doing.

If I continue on this tack for long, it’ll be another depression spiel, and you’ve probably had enough of those to last a lifetime, I would imagine. I’ll stop.

I would write more, but I’m tired and I don’t know what else to write. All I know is that every day is every day, so here I am again, and here I’ll be again tomorrow with some further inanity.

(191/260)

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