Posts Tagged ‘ow’

Ow.

Saturday, June 22nd, 2013

ow_logoThis is the first thought in my head when I wake up in the morning.

Ow.

My new, vigorous exercise routine has rendered every muscle in my body sore.

Ow.

Especially my neck – what? Am I being turned into Arnold Schwarzenegger here? – and hamstrings. And upper abs.

Ow.

I’d better start looking like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model pretty soon.

Ow.

Or at least see some marked improvement in my abs.

Ow.

If you look up “ow” in the dictionary, there is a picture of me with a thought bubble above my head, and in that thought bubble it says

Ow.

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Just the Way You Are

Saturday, November 6th, 2010

So I’m a girl.

Billy Joel: The StrangerThus, it’s a given that I would get  all smooshy over the lyrics  to Billy Joel’s “Just The Way You Are” and now Bruno Mars’ completely unrelated, but identically named “Just the Way You Are Are” for entirely different, yet similarly pathetic reasons.

Immature love:

“And when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for awhile

Cause girl you’re amazing just the way you are.”

Versus seemingly more mature love, yet probably equally doomed love:

“I wouldn’t leave you in times of trouble

We never could have come this far

I took the good times, I’ll take the bad times

I’ll take you just the way you are.”

Bruno MarsIf there really is such a thing as love, I vote for the latter. Personally, I’d rather be loved for being me than for the way my nails are painted.  But hey…

In other news, I really labored over the title of this post and thus, directly or unintenttionally or some such thing, drug out its eventual publication. I started with “A stitch in time saves nine” but that has nothing to do with anything. Then I went to the pun “Sew adorable”…but I hate puns. I won’t bore you with the iterations in between except to say that they were so bad that I was relieved to be moved by the dumbass scenario above, and thus conjure my final main subject matter and related title.

Nonetheless, and in conclusion, and in other news, I need someone to make me a dress. I have a good  friend who makes clothes and sells them on Etsy (you know who you are), and I may have to call you out literally (or just pick up the phone and call you) because I WANT THIS DRESS.

I want the one on the left with the turquoise top. LOVE.

Not this short, necessarily, and definitely not with the strange hairdo, but otherwise: exactly.

I actually want this dress enough that I have vaguely considered pulling out my own sewing machine and ruining several pieces of cheap jersey until I figure out how to make this. And that’s scary talk, because (minus a period where I made hats and sold them at Grateful Dead concerts: don’t ask) I don’t really know how to sew.

I wish I did.

I LOVE clothes.

And I love to save money.

And I love variety.

And I could combine  all three passions into one happy experience if I knew how to sew, but it’s not exactly like (searching in my mind something simple that anyone can just pick up and do expertly. Ummmm….) chewing gum. You need some schooling and some skill and some inside tips and tricks or it ends up looking like something you made yourself, which is never good. I remember when I was a little girl we made a wrap skirt in Girl Scouts and for some reason I had this hideous dark green wool material (compared with denims and flowered cottons brought by the other girls) and although the skirt worked out, it was butt ugly and (in my opinion) looked homemade. It also had a bad habit of coming open in a most unladylike way, which was probably my guardian angel’s attempt to prevent me from wearing it in public.

As if the green wool wasn’t enough.

Too bad it wasn’t…. (coming open either…)

Thinking of going with the curl instead of fighting it.

In other news, as long as I’m sharing boring things, I have a haircut Monday, and I’m thinking about giving in and going with the curl. And sticking with a more natural color (i.e. kind of like her color). Admittedly, I won’t be able to pull it back or put it into a ponytail or wear it the way it currently is 99% of the time, but I also do that because I’m not super thrilled with it right now anyway.

So there you go: I love this dress and I may cut my hair shorter still.

Exciting times.

Best of times.

Worst of times.

Boringist of times.

Some rain, some shine.

It was the age of wisdom,

It was the age of foolishness,

It was the epoch of belief.

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The Signs They Are a-Changin’

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010

As you have likely observed, I have a long history of getting discouraged and then suddenly becoming optimistic again. I’m not sure why this is. It’s my own opinion that I have a quick bounce. Bounce – or at least my definition, for what it’s worth – is the time between emotionally hitting the ground and springing back up. Even with extremely tragic or outrageously unfair circumstances, I tend to bounce within a few hours. This is why, despite my arguable host of mental problems and questionable sanity from time to time, anti-depressants don’t really seem to be a prescription I need. Anti-psychotics on the other hand? Perhaps.

Beach Status Signs

Not this kind of sign.

Nonetheless and as I’ve mentioned, the last few weeks I have felt kind of panicked. In the simplest of terms, it’s a feeling of “WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? THIS IS YOUR LIFE!!!” and it’s a really lame and anxiety-causing sensation, especially because there’s no clear answer. On certain terms, I could argue with the Voice of Urgency that I’m doing the best I can – I’m working on a new book (thinking and planning more than writing at the moment, but that will come), I’m living my life, I’m thinking deep thoughts, I have clever ideas at least once a week, I’m mostly in a good mood, I use very few aerosol products anymore, and, by and large, I’m not hurting anybody (as far as I know). On the other hand – and recognizing that the Voice of Urgency comes from my head and, thus, is me in some fashion – I completely agree with it. Somehow, in ways I can’t quite pinpoint, I am wasting time and, by extension, my life.

Ouch.

That hurts.

That more than hurts. That f*cking sucks.

And then enter – stage right – the bounce.

Not this kind either. If this kind is even real. I'm not sure. Somehow I doubt it.

I have long had (and recently had reinforced) the feeling that if I just keep pushing and writing and working that I will eventually hit upon the idea and the plot and the “it”, and then the magical, mystical force that makes stuff turn out happily ever after will kick in and things will go my way forevermore. Just as suddenly, all the work I’ve done up to that point will become useful and relevant, if not sought after. I like this idea. I am buoyed by the hope that I have the talent and the tenacity, all I need is the bright idea and a little bit of star alignment.

This is probably why I was overly excited when my two – count ‘em, not just one but two – fortune cookie fortunes the other day were so optimistic. The first read “Don’t give up. The best is yet to come!” Not too shabby. If fortune cookies were guarantees, this beats the hell out of “You find beauty in ordinary things, do not lose this ability” or “Don’t forget, you are always on our minds.” That second one freaked me out. What? Who? Who’s “our”? A collective hive mind or all of your minds individually? And who are you again? And when you’re thinking about me, do you think good things or wish me well or are you have subtle urges to do me bodily harm? In other words, is this a benign threat of some kind? Seriously, who’s “our”?

I'm trying, I'm trying. The signs are harder to recognize - let alone know - than one might presume.

But not the other night. Those predictions were all good. That night I got two fortuitous predictions: “Don’t give up. The best is yet to come!” and “Your dearest wish will come true within the month!” Sweet.

True, there were only a few days eft in the month, and my dearest wish didn’t quite come to obvious fruition during that time, but maybe the seeds were sown? Or maybe they meant 30 days more than the literal month-end? I’m willing to keep an open mind and a hopeful heart. You never know, I suppose.

Meanwhile, if the fortunes weren’t enough, get this: I found a pearl in an oyster I was eating! I did. A Washington state Sunset Beach oyster grown in the Hood Canal. That has to be some kind of  omen of impending amazing luck, right?

Right???

Well, I say so anyway, and in trying to prove it, I came across the following statistics:

  • The odds of finding a pearl in an oyster are 10,000 to 1
  • Odds of getting a hole in one: 5,000 to 1
  • Odds of an American speaking Cherokee: 15,000 to 1
  • Odds of being struck by lightning: 576,000 to 1
  • Odds of being murdered: 18,000 to 1
  • Odds of getting away with murder: 2 to 1
  • Odds of being considered possessed by Satan: 7,000 to 1
  • Odds of being on plane with a drunken pilot: 117 to 1
  • Odds of writing a New York Times best seller: 220 to 1
  • Odds of becoming a pro athlete: 22,000 to 1
  • Odds of finding a four-leaf clover on first try: 10,000 to 1
  • Odds of winning an Academy Award: 11,500 to 1
  • Chance that Earth will experience a catastrophic collision with an asteroid in the next 100 years: 1 in 5,000
  • Chance of dying in such a collision: 1 in 20,000
Change for Homeless sign

I don't think this is real either. If it were, wouldn't they just ask for dollar bills and small bottles of liquor?

So there you have it: I am almost as likely to win an Academy Award or could be considered possessed by Satan one and a half times before I’d find a matching, misshapen pearl in another oyster, and I’d have better luck hitting TWO holes in one as the same occurring. Thus, I rest my case. I think the math makes it plain: this is a harbinger of imminent good fortune if ever there was.

So bring it on, lucky stars: unload a giant truck of the best and make my dearest dreams come true.

I’m ready already.

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What’s Been Going On

Sunday, March 7th, 2010

Not to be confused with the Marvin Gaye song of a similar but slightly different title, I am obsessed with the Amos Lee tune (particularly the live version) “What’s Been Going On.” I can do a decent job with the guitar, but I can’t sing that low to save my soul. Which is fine in general, seeing as I’m a woman, but a bummer in that I really love the hell out of that tune. Oh well. Download’s Amos’ version. It’s worth the $.99.

Writing a novel in one month.

Writing. What else would I be doing?

Anyway, I’m just sitting here watching Old School and drinking some horribly sweet, overly dyed apple soda (Just a small bottle. I couldn’t help myself. I had to know…) and thinking about anarchy.

Not really.

I just threw that last part in to see if you were paying attention.

So anyway, as is often the case with me when I get myself into remote locales with very little human contact and even less English, I have been wallowing in my own habits and taking an excessive amount of self-portraits. Luckily, my habits tend to be pretty healthy and self-driven and I’m rather photogenic, but then again maybe I’ve already been alone too long to judge?

Mexican sunset

Me in front of tonight's sunset

So here’s a random smattering of stuff in my life circa 9:48pm Mountain Time:

My back hurts

I’ve been brushing my teeth with tap water since I got here on Thursday. I suppose I just like to tempt fate. Or prove that I have a superior immune system. Or lose five pounds the painful way. Time will tell…

I’m already sick of corn tortillas.

Mexican horses

Random horses.

I was sitting out front today and four horses just came randomly sauntering by.

My only tie to the modern world is a super flakey dial up 3G connection that occasionally makes the touch pad on my MacBook freeze up and stop working and which delays incoming emails as much as two days and isn’t even powerful enough to run a YouTube clip. I am completely cut off. With 25 days to go. But I’m still sane. Mostly.

I’ve written five chapters of the new book. It’s going pretty smoothly, which either means it’s inspired gold or total drivel. Time will tell here as well…

Todos Santos sunset

Tonight's sunset all by itself.

I don’t like the American landlord and his Mexican wife is really unfriendly. I could bitch about this at length, but a) who wants to hear me bitch and b) he knows about this blog, and I hate to be a jerk. Sufficed to say, he went to Stanford 25 years ago, and works it into EVERY SINGLE CONVERSATION. Whateves, dude. It’s ancient history now.

There’s a mosquito on my thigh.

I tried to take a bath last night, and got about two inches of hottish water into the giant tub before it started to come out of the spigot cold. So basically it was like splashing in a hot puddle. Not so much…

Todos Santos Las Tunas

Me in front of the only walls in this joint that aren't pink.

Special K is different down here than it is at home. It’s somehow kind of corn flakey or something. It’s not bad. Just different.

Topes are those giant, unexpected bumps in the road and totopos are what they call tortilla chips.

The ocean is literally 50 yards away (over a sand dune covered with some seriously prickly stuff), and I can hear it roaring all the time, which is super awesome.

It’s been cloudy and raining all weekend and barely 10 degrees warmer than back home…but tomorrow all that changes when the sun comes back out! (The sun had better come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there’d damn well better be sun…)

I’m driving around in a 2000 Nissan Frontier with plates from South Dakota and expired tags. I’m basically begging to get pulled over. See “not so keen on the landlord” above.

Todos Santos beach

The beach here in Todos Santos by day

I am definitely in the early stages of Carpal Tunnel or some other forearm overuse problem, which totally sucks. I actually woke up in the middle of the night last night my right arm hurt so much. This happened when I was writing my graduate thesis a few years ago. And when I was finishing the first book. Basically, it’s like an overuse injury I’m still using. Ow.

I bought some bagels at the corner store and despite the fact that they were frozen, every last goddamned one of them was molding, and I just threw them away rather than drive them back and fight about it, because I don’t know enough Spanish to explain that “These bagels are molding, and I don’t want a replacement because I am now afraid of your food. Please just give me back my 550 pesos, thank you very much.”

Footprints in the sand

Getting all artsy.

Will Ferrell just said my favorite line of the movie, “I think I see Blue. He looks glorious!”

As mentioned above, there are 25 more days to my literary experiment.

And there ain’t much going on but me, my daily workouts, my writing, and trips to buy overpriced spoiled foodstuffs.

Happily, I have yet to go totally Ernest Hemingway, but I am pretty isolated, so I guess we’ll see what happens. I am half-Irish, you know.

Da da da da da da dum dum

Da da da da da da dum

Tequila!

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Not at all what I expected

Tuesday, February 16th, 2010

Hmmmm…

Rather anti-climactic.

True, it’s not the first time in my life that something I thought was going to be a really big deal when it finally happened kinda wasn’t, but it’s still strange to realize I am totally done with the book (or as done as I’m going to bother being until a publisher wants me to change things) and yeah…it kind of feels the same as it did before I was actually totally done with the book.

That feeling, by the way, is vague anxiety mixed with a fair amount of expectation and high hopes and a dash of terror.

Or – as it has become more commonly known – same day, different shit.

At the same time, I have to wonder why it’s such a non-event?

Am I just emotionally blotto from everything I’ve been through the last few months?

Maybe that’s because I’ve already launched a plan to do the next one?

And sketched out all the chapters for said next one?

And rented a tiny Mexican casita on the southern Baja coast without a TV or any real distractions for the month of March in order to do that writing?

And so I know I’ll be right back in the maelstrom in no time at all?

Or maybe it’s because I still have to write the queries – TWO PARAGRAPHS to summarize a 136,000 word book that took me eight months. Sheesh!!! – and contact agents and get the whole thing going in the next couple weeks, and potentially that’s going to be its own massive learning curve summit.

Or maybe it’s the hour I spent battling the US Copyright office website trying to register the thing? It was singlehandedly the most ambiguous web-based experience of my life, and the apex of inefficiency and disorganization. If you’ve never had the pleasure, allow me: They somehow managed to create a user experience rich with confusion and bewilderment and “What? I mean, what?” bad instructions and and dozens of unnecessary and baffling steps. In short, it’s an electronic clusterf*ck

Anyway, no matter. There are no answers. From my perspective, the point of this pointless post was simply to say that it’s all the way done at long last, and I’m feeling no pain…nor much of anything for that matter.

Devoid of my own strength of feeling, I turn to the masters for encouragement:

If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.

Henry David Thoreau

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