Updating

Not a whole lot of anything going on right now. I haven't been writing much lately, which I really should do. I want to finish my story by the end of this semester so that if anything, Karen can read the whole thing. But I started writing something new a few weeks ago and I don't really know what's going on or where I'm taking it. All I know is that it's very dialogue driven and isn't really about aliens, except when it is.

In other news, we're having a potluck at the apartment the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I'm ridiculously excited about it and can't wait. I love doing homey things like this that get a lot of my friends together and doing this we don't typically do. Although I'm kind of hoping this becomes more than a once a semester thing.

Hopefully I write more by the end of this week. That's going to be my goal for the rest of the week.

Card making

Suthee's birthday is this Wednesday. He is my favorite cousin and one of my favorite people in the world. So it's a bit distressing that I've never made him a card. In order to remedy this, I've been working on a card all week long. I decided to make a simple cut out and ask Briana for some scrapbooking paper for the inside. Thus, I made this:

Two sheets of confetti cardstock: one for the card and one for the envelope, one scrap of shiny blue paper, one pair of teeth-edged scissors, one self-healing mat, one Exacto knife, and a hell of a lot of patience. I mailed it today, so hopefully, it gets to CA by Tuesday.

Gah.

I had a spectacular day Monday. Briana had a migraine so I took care of her. I made her some rice soup and fried up an egg. I made her jasmine green tea. I was an all around good person. So when I discovered mold growing on the carpet of my bedroom, I felt like the god I don't believe in was smiting me.


So for the past two nights, I've been sleeping on the couch. The couch is ok when I'm voluntarily sleeping on it to straighten out my back or to make myself uncomfortable and make sure I wake up in the morning. The first night was bearable. I woke up at 7:30, but I figured that was just my new sleeping pattern (woke up the previous morning at 7:45.) This morning though, 6:30. I haven't woken up at 6:30 unless I was going to the airport since high school. I felt like I had been beaten while I slept so I went back to sleep. Woke up again at 7:30, still not feeling better. Again at 8 and at 9. By this point I realized I wasn't going to feel better, so I just got up.

My whole body aches. My entire back feels bludgeoned. My arms feel like the blood was drained out of them, poured back in, then twisted into unimaginable positions. I shudder to think how I contorted myself in my sleep to fit on the couch and make me feel so pained.

And Now for Something Completely Different, Well Not Really...

For workshop today, I have something different. I don't know that it's different better, but it is different:

Dear Angie,

I can’t tell you how excited I am about finally becoming a mother. Is this how you felt when you had Julia? Like your heart could burst from happiness?

Henry and I just finished decorating most of the nursery this week. We decided to pain the walls yellow instead of green. If Baby’s a girl, it’ll be all sunshine and daisies. If Baby’s a boy, well, we’ll just get him started on a Wolverine/X-men fixation early on. The room is so darling! The crib, changing table, and dresser all match. Such beautiful mahogany. Oh, and thank you so much for sending Ma’s old rocker to us. It fits in perfectly. It’ll be so nice for Baby to grow up in Ma’s chair the way we did. You’re right, I do miss her more than I ever have. I wish she knew her baby was finally having a baby. And she thought this day would never come. I think I’ll take her some flowers tomorrow. I think your last note has disintegrated by now; send along another one.

I cannot wait for August! My summer baby will finally be here. You should visit us for Christmas this year. I haven’t seen you in ages and you’ll be able to meet Baby. I won’t take any excuses from Roger about not being able to take enough time off from work. Seven months’ notice is plenty enough. Besides, how many people make Christmas plans in June? I look forward to seeing the three of you soon.

Love,
Melinda

Crumbly goodness

I made a delicious crumble today. Sliced and peeled and cubed apples with a bit of cinnamon and salt topped with a flour/oat/sugar/butter/salt doughy concoction. I thought it would be a sweet gooey pile of heaven. Not so much. Turned out much tarter and crisper than expected but also much better than the expected gooey pile. I think I'll make some more tomorrow night or Thursday morning for Kaitlin. I think she could do with some homemade love.

I'm loving how things are turning out. I love that I'm getting to do weird things without much planning and forethought. That I get to decide to just do things and they come out how I want them to or better. Isn't college awesome? No parental oversight to ask me why I'm wasting my time. If it makes me feel better, I get to do it.

One of these days I'm going to remember to take pictures of the lovely things I make. I will keep my camera strapped to me at all times. One of these days.

More craftiness!

Briana came to me Wednesday night asking if I had any shirts with numbers on them for a Jocks and Preps themed party. I most certainly didn't because I don't typically wear clothes with designs on them. Turns out, none of us do. Suddenly, I had a bright idea. I have left over t-shirt apron scraps! If she could supply me with a plain t-shirt, I would happily cut out numbers and stitch them on for her. Ta-da!


I wish the detailing were clearer, but those are white numbers with black stitching. It looks very homemade and cool.

And Another

For today's workshop, I turned in something I'm kind of proud of. I've been stuck on this scene for a few weeks now. I knew I had to do a waiting room scene that would convey some level of agony and uncomfortableness, but I could not figure out how to turn my idea into words on paper. So when I finally came up with that first line, I knew how it would have to go.
This room must have been designed with discomfort in mind. The walls are an unappealing shade of white. The harsh lights bounce off of the unappealing white walls and stab the eyes. The chairs are hard molded plastic. Molded to fit only one body type that mankind seems incapable of producing. Every single chair is bolted to the ugly linoleum and welded to its neighbors. Too far for comfort and too close for comfort. In short, an environment in which conditions are just right to induce a grown man or woman to squirm. But squirming becomes a Sisyphean ordeal. When you’ve wriggled to the edge of the chair you inevitably slide back to right where you started. Vicious cycle.

Continuing on

And I've written more. Granted, this was a couple of weeks ago, but I figure I'll keep what I've written blocked off in chunks of when I wrote them. I think my style and tone change around depending on my mood and what I think is going on.
She's up again. Pacing, always pacing. She'll try to blame it on the coffee, I know, but that was hours ago. The only reason she could possibly be up is the nightmares. It's just one of those nights. She won't talk if I ask and she'll only clam up if I try to press the issue. I don't know what to do for her. I wish there was some way for me to help, to ease things. But if she won't tell, I have no way of knowing.

---

It's the same shit again tonight. Fall asleep, drift away into the land of Nod only to find it lit with a fire instead of sunshine. The pain flares and scorches and I wake up. I need to get out, but I'll wake Henry if I do. So it's just back and forth. Looking out at the stars.
It's late now. Time for more sleep. Hopefully, my dreams won't burn anymore. Henry's arms around me are just what I need. I couldn't wish for a better man. Even in his sleep, he knows exactly what I need.

Craftiness!

I'm feeling oh so very crafty with this nifty little idea. I've had a t-shirt stored with my other clothes for three months now. It has somehow stayed with my clothes through two moves (such is the dorm life) despite me not wanting it. It's a fairly large t-shirt. The kind I used to wear as a pajama top. The kind I no longer wear. As if that weren't enough reason for me to want to get rid of it, it also advertises an apartment complex near campus. The front is plain white with a logo; the back is the logo blown up and colored. In other words, not something I will ever wear.

I've been wanting to make myself an apron for some time now. I've discovered that my crafts and my cooking can get out of hand very quickly and that I tend to wear things I don't want stained when this happens. In trying to come up with a solution, I've been looking up aprons all over the internet and have decided I want a cute little retro thing. The biggest stumbling block is Jo-ann's. As in Jo-ann's has moved fifteen minutes away. As in I don't have a car to get there. So no pretty fabric for a pretty apron yet.

But I needed to cook today and I knew an apron would be a good idea when the soy sauce went splattering. If I do say so myself, I had a stroke of genius. Why not take the t-shirt and see if I could cut an apron out of it?! Brilliant! I never know if my bright ideas are ever going to work, so I decided to try my luck. If it worked, I would have a neat little apron to show off and protect good clothes. If it didn't, well, the t-shirt was free and maybe we can use it as a cleaning cloth.

Lo and behold! Snip off the arms, slit up the sides, cut across the back, cut across the back, snip the remaining strip through the middle, and voila! an apron that fits more perfectly than the original t-shirt.

The Road Less Traveled

(Have I ever mentioned that's one of my favorite poems ever? I may not read much poetry, but something about what you first found beautiful seems to stick with you the rest of your life.)

I suck at keeping up with these things. *sigh*

At any rate, my blogging is taking a different direction again. One of the classes recommended to me by advisers was Form/Technique of Fiction, hereafter known as CRW. It's basically a craft honing class. Interesting stuff. If you're a writer. So I find myself in the interesting predicament of having to become a writer. It's surprisingly fun; I didn't think I'd like it this much.

Here goes nothing. Our very first exercise in class was to write about something we would never do. Maybe something we would never choose to do, something we hope we would never do, something we could never do.

All she'll ever have is a white stone and a hole in the ground. She'll never know how to dance, how to argue, how to be her own person. She was so lovely, so perfect.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Our one chance, my one chance. Wasn't supposed to get sick, wasn't supposed to slip away. Supposed to grow up. Be beautiful. Be successful. Grow old. Bury us.
And instead of bringing us together, she's tearing us apart. Maybe I shouldn't spend my days keeping vigil. Maybe I do know what's passed is gone. But I can't help it. I can't help waking up hearing her crying for attention.
It's time to let go, I think. I'll never speak her name again. Just the thought of her sears my heart. If I can stop myself saying her name, I might be able to look normal again. I'm going to walk away from this place now. I'm not coming back until I'm carried through the gates. I can do this. One in front of the other. Going, going, going.

Ybor

I've lived in Tampa for a year now and have yet to experience Ybor City's nightlife. However, I was there during daylight hours yesterday and I have to say it's very pretty. It has a picturesque charm to it and an odd blending of old and new. It looks more like an American town than anywhere else I've ever been in Florida.

And I can't forget the lofts! Oh how I want to live in one of those lofts.....Tampa Heights is also pretty. All those quaint old houses. I want one!