NYC

I need New York City. I need my own flat, and I need the milkman to deliver bottles of milk to my front door once a week. I need to fill my flat with art and hold writer's groups there and meet people like Natalie Goldberg and Stephen King. Most of all, I need to get away for awhile and start a new life with new people and fresh opportunities and no stigmas attached to me like a price label.

numb

there is such cruelty in life.

i find myself numb.

i used to have such dreams

but my accomplishments mean nothing

i can't accomplish love.

Last Night's Three Rants in my Little Purple Notebook

(I must have been half asleep.)

1. Piece like a dang and getting cold feet. Wondering if I am or am not crazy, possibly schitzophrenic and praying for K---, whom I love like a brother, with hugs hadded too. Today I am blue nail polish (to stop biting) and five cheese stick wrappers in ten minutes while reading a book about writer's losing weight. Skinny legs and jeans size 0, come quick.

2. Careful buckets of happiness not to be tipped and late nights with the fan running for to cool the house down, sounding like air pressure inside a car, and the bamboo plant, it's in the bathroom--probably waiting and thirsty! Gave Leanne that book she needs to read and Isaiah. He makes me laugh, hot and handsome with a fedora, I told him. Green sleeping bag slips off me in the night; heating pad all pilled up turns off and I am cold and in a stumble grope in the dark, reaching and then pulling too far.

3. And a yellow post-it tacked to my wall, sleeping now on a velvety dark green pillow that is beautiful and to hope I don't drool on it, the pretty purple dots are my current favorite color, and green, so to go shopping and find a purple top would be perfect with my new jeans. Goodnight, sleep seducing, goodnight.

Go on with the Show!

Tonight is my big singing show. I've practiced five hours every day for the last four days, and finally all that work is coming to a climax. With sixteen other people, we are putting on a show with wonderful choreography and beautiful voices, and some of the best directors and teachers in the city.

The show starts at 7:30PM. I have to get down to the recital hall at 3:30PM for a dress rehearsal.

But bah humbug, I need to go get my espresso and some more Sobe flavored water. And I think I'll eat a few string cheese sticks in the process.

Love,
me

Liquid Story Binder (and a Not-So-Sore Throat)

Throat much better! Singing is still impaired. I cannot sing. I warble, squeak, growl... and yet I know that by Monday I will be good enough to go the the Singer's Performance Week. =)

Been using this program called "Liquid Story Binder XE" for story plotting and character development. It costs $45 or something, but I'm using it for free for thirty days. Sweet, huh? And though at first I was detrimentally confused, I have come to half-way understand the program and I like it! Gets me in this serious mood about writing. Like, "I AM GOING TO GET THIS DONE!"

lol.

Gahh, it's 12:21. I'd better be getting to bed. I was going to talk to Kyle tonight (another friend of mine, he lives in Los Angeles) but I guess his phone is dead. Ah well. Perhaps tomorrow.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!

(Is that how it goes?)

Sore Throat

Yep, I have one. I went to bed with a mild scratch in my throat and woke up with a full-blown earache and throat ache. Now, I would be okay with this except for the fact that starting on Monday is my Singer's Performance Week.

And I CAN'T SING!

I can't even do a simple exercise like "zi-a-zi-a-zi" without squeaking on the middle notes. There's no way I'm going to be able to reach a G note above pasaggio now. God, this is where you come in. Because there's no way I can sing like this. >.<

Other than that, I have kept myself busy with writing like never before. Is this the work of Prozac? I hate to give the credit to a drug but I think it may be true. Ever since I was put on Prozac I have had an incredible urge to work on the novel that I've never written.

Also I've been planning on getting my hair cut short, you know since I've had trichotillomania. (I hate how weird that word looks, lol.) Even if I have to wear a hat for awhile because I don't like the cut, it would be very freeing. Then I'd let it grow out long again. Anyway, it would be fun to mess with having a "bob" for awhile, don't you think? Hahaha.

And my sister Leanne says that once I get my hair cut short we're going to play with hair colors. I want to try a dark, rich auburn. Or even a blonde kinda like yours, Earwen. What do you think?

La la la-la-la

Music. If there was anything I don't think I could give up, music would be it. I would even give up writing before music.

Been listening to Michael Buble, Norah Jones, Jack Johnson. You know, the soft syncopated jazz with gentle vocals, almost bluesy in style. I listen at Pandora.com, a free customizable radio site. Really makes me want to listen to the rawkin' black gospel songs. Mmhmm, those are my favorites for worship music.

Still been plotting. I think I need to jack up the characters a little, you know, make them memorable, different. Not necessarily quirky, if you know what I mean. Give them all their own motives, their own goals, and watch them interplay with other characters' dreams. I need some contradictions in my story.

More friction.

>.< Anyway, Nathan left today to work at Quincy. He'll be there for a month. It won't make much of a difference because it's not like I really got to see him often while he was here in Spokane, but it noticably lessens my feelings of comfort and safety, you know? When he's in Spokane I always know I can go over to his place if I need to. But when he's three hours away it's different. I find myself feeling a little vulnerable. :(