Craigslist. School. BDSM. Sex Toys. Writing. Weight. Y'know. General Updates.

I find myself looking at Craigslist tonight. Mostly because I'm feeling lonely and figured it would make me feel better to know that others are too. But it really frustrates me that even the guys looking for gamer girls, or nerdy girls, and all they're interested in is someone with similar interests... all specify that they want someone with a good body, or slim. I can't even begin to qualify. Maybe as a BBW or curvy, but what if I'm too big for that even? If you specify a body type, it seems to me that you're not *just* interested in someone's mind and interests. I dunno. Maybe I'm just super self conscious right now.

I enrolled in an online college tonight. For an Early Childhood Education Undergrad Certificate. With that I could teach at a preschool, or run a daycare. That would be awesome. I should get my books in about a week and then I can finish it in as much as six months. It's all self paced, which is nice. Deadlines kill me.

And Craigslist is going away because I just saw one of our regular customers looking for young Friends With Benefits. No thank you.

Was on Craigslist in the first place because I'm still considering looking for a dominant guy here in town. But it's a lot of trust to place on someone I've never met. I don't think it's a good idea. I need to get into a relationship and explore it with someone I already trust.

New Coworker arrived since the last time I wrote. She used to sell sex toys. I keep wanting to work up the courage to ask her things, but I never will. I know that. But she's awesome. It's nice to have a fellow atheist at work. And she's a geek, who completely understands when I flip out over things. The kind of things everyone else just tunes me out when I talk about it.

My writing is suffering. I haven't written anything new... probably since before Dad died. I've written with the Englishman. That's kind of normal. But I absolutely can't even begin to write alone. But I will.

Neil Gaiman will be in Phoenix June 26. I'm totally going to try and go. I think it'll be awesome.

My weight is currently 270. I worked out with New Coworker yesterday. Used the elliptical machine. It kicked my ass. Thoroughly. I can barely walk today. But I'm going to keep it up! I will! And hopefully tomorrow evening I'll go do a yoga class. It'll be awesome.

In all, things are on an upward slope. Hopefully my weight is on a downward slope. I just need to stay positive and motivated.

Pageviews, Crafting, and Words, words, words

I got all excited to see that I had 21 pageviews today, and none of them were my own views! How awesome is that? Not very, I know. But it's still exciting.

Edit: Maybe I'm lying about pageviews. I'm confused...

I've been catching up on my Youtube stuff today. The Guild season 6 premiered last week, so I've been watching all their production videos. I adore Felicia Day. I want to be her best friend. Like, the first time I've ever wanted to use the term BFF. She is honestly the reason I got back into writing and reading. I wanted to read the books she was doing in Vaginal Fantasy, and more than anything I want to be one of the writers she talks about.

Anyway, [/endrant]...

 In one of those production videos one of their actors had a birthday. He turned 24. I felt useless. But! He's a only year younger than me! So, hey, that's not *too* bad. I just gotta get off my ass.

One of those production videos, they talked about how you just gotta start doing it. So I've decided (once again) to try. Maybe this is the time it'll stick.

So I'm going to stop sitting here eating cupcakes and dreaming and post a new blog. Mostly because I need to stop eating cupcakes.

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This is something I started writing a long time ago that I really liked the idea of and I really want to continue, but I need to scale the story down a little bit. It's overwhelming even to think about, much less try to explain or write. So, here you go! It's super short!
---

-->

“You know, soldier,” came a voice from the girl on the back of the horse, “you haven’t said one word to me. You could have kidnapped the wrong girl from the safety of her home.”

“I haven’t, Lady Charissa.” Growled the soldier.

“I’m not Lady Charissa. I demand that you let me go.” The soldier said nothing. It was several minutes before she spoke again. “How do you know who I am then, Feral.” He said nothing, but she saw him sit up a bit straighter in a bit of shock. “I can see your hands holding the reigns. The markings on your right hand are very specific. A fox if I’m not mistaken.”

“You are not mistaken.” He said in a dark voice.

“I didn’t mean to offend, soldier.” She said quietly. “The others made themselves known in the town asking about me. No one but the queen is supposed to know the way I look. How did you know who I was?”

The man didn’t speak for a long time. When they arrived at the next village he stopped the horse and stepped down then lifted her into his arms. Bound the way she was, she was unable to walk. He nodded to the innkeeper inside, showed him his army credentials and carried her up the stairs to her room. He laid her on the bed and for the first time she looked at his face. His brilliant red eyes shown underneath his hood. He removed his hood and showed his short black hair and chiseled features. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and swallowed tightly.

“We’ve met, haven’t we, Soldier.”

“I’ll go down and get you some food. I’ll untie your hands so you can eat. You’ll get some sleep.”

He left then, pulling his hood back up around his head and went to the dining room. He returned quickly to find the girl trying to untie her bonds. She looked up at him innocently as he placed a tray of food on the table beside the bed. He knelt and began untying her hands for her. As he worked at the knots he spoke in a quiet voice.

“When you were very young, a group of specters kidnapped you. They took you to one of their encampments on the east bank of the Coria River. They kept you there for two years before deciding that you were not the person they wanted. Your pendant of dawn would do nothing for them. They decided to have you executed. It was their way. The fox they sent to murder you seemed to take pity. He took-“ With an exasperated sigh Charissa cut in.

“Soldier. I know the story. I was there, you know.”

Neil Gaiman New Year

New Year's Benediction by Neil Gaiman

I felt like sharing that with the world, not that it isn't already out there, but it's a beautiful sentiment and one that I think suits me very well.

So as of this morning my weight is 191. It seems odd that since last night I've lost 2 lbs. I don't think that's the way it works for more people. I've been able to gain or lose 5 lbs. literally over night. So I can never say, "Yay! I lost five pounds!" Because it could come back to next day. But oh well. If I can keep it going in a downward direction that is good, right?

Watching a bit of an NCIS marathon on USA before I go to work in 13 minutes. I could really do without work. But oh well. It pays the bills and gets me out of the house. Though days like today I'd rather just hang out with my dog.

So this is a short post, I don't have much else to say today. Just wanted to be sure and post something to keep up with one of my resolutions.

2 days into the new year and 2 posts in. I figure it's a good start.

Starting a blog

I realized tonight that I have a blog started on nearly every community available to me. But I never post to any of them. I have decided to remedy this. I think it will make me feel better if I do something regularly every day. And seeing as how this is the first day of 2010, it seems like a good time to start. It will be a New Year's Resolution.

This decision was brought about by Julie & Julia. So far it is a wonderful movie. I haven't finished it yet because there was a power glitch and I had to start all over. I'm certainly not patient enough to start all over, so instead I've put it on fast forward. It's going much quicker than I expected it to, so that's encouraging. I also plan on watching Night at the Museum 2, or something equally mindless, ON DEMAND tonight. My brother and I watched 9 last night. It was really good. Although I was hoping for an ending that was just happy, not so bittersweet.

Anyway, in the movie this rather depressed woman starts a blog, and it seems to make her feel better. Of course her's has, or had I suppose, more purpose than mine, but I think it's still worth a try.

In high school I did ballet every day and ate very little. I weighed 100 lbs. sopping wet. Now, five years and more than one emotional roller coaster later, I weigh 193.8 lbs. So my main New Year's Resolution is to lose weight. I guess that's the Resolution half the world is making today, so I guess I'll just add my name to that list of people. I now have a calendar with ballet dancers on it and my hope is that looking at the calendar with the beautiful dancers of the Austin Ballet will inspire me to really work at it. Every day I weigh myself I'm going to write it down on there. It works in my head, I guess we'll have to wait and see how well it will work in actuality.

My third Resolution is to write without shame and without hesitation. And the same goes for posting on this blog. Even if I offend someone (which seems unlikely considering the number of people reading this and the more substantial number of those not reading it) (I really hope that I don't offend anyone though) I'm not going to apologize.

So, those are my resolutions. I think that those, along with continued regularity with my Zoloft should lead to a happy year overall.

And to encourage myself I'm going to post the short story I'm going to take to the first day of my writing class next semester. It needs a lot of revision, but I think it's actually pretty good.

(Also, I know on LiveJournal, there's way to post a block like this that you can click on to read or not read anyone know how to do that?)

Mama Joan

I stood at the counter staring down into my drink. Try as I might I couldn’t identify the color. It was sort of yellow, but not really. It was sort of orange, but not really. I swirled the liquid in the glass and sighed. Mama Joan would have known what color it was without even having to think about it. I poured the drink down the drain and left the glass in the sink.

I turned around and leaned against the bar, watching the crowd of people who had assembled. They were all family, or at least that’s how they’d been introduced. There was only a handful I recognized and even fewer whose names I knew. A few people had been all but forced out onto the porch in the backyard. We filled the house to overflowing.

I never liked coming over here. Even when I was a kid coming to play with Terry. Uncle Lon went into fits if we tracked even the littlest bit of dirt inside his house. I never could figure out how he managed to keep it so pristine with white walls, white carpets, and even white upholstery. There were never any pictures on the wall.

The night of the wake, though, it appeared that the kids had talked him into hanging Mama Joan’s paintings on the walls. A large landscape hung over the fireplace, catching the light from the glow. A self portrait hung in the entryway. Another landscape hung over the bar.

Uncle Lon didn’t seem to mind people tracking dirt in during the wake. It seemed like a good thing, until I realized why. Uncle Lon was in the center of an ever growing group surrounding the island in the kitchen. They were passing out tequila shots like candy.

“Fifth round!” I heard Lon shout. They all threw their heads back and downed the liquor. Who did tequila shots at a wake?

The people who had a fully stocked bar in their living room.

I scanned that group for Dad. I was relieved when he wasn’t there. Finally I saw him sitting alone in the living room. Even though it was seventy degrees outside, he insisted on making a fire. Joan liked it, he said. He still sat next to the hearth staring at the flames solemnly. I pushed through the strangers and pretended I didn’t hear their obligatory questions about the kids and Tim. I took a seat on the carpet next to Dad’s knee. He smiled down at me, his eyes were tearing up. I rested my chin on his knee and watched the fire crackle.

There was a small group gathered around the over-sized television nearby. Someone had made a DVD with pictures of Mama Joan on it. They were laughing and talking about the time she and her friends went skinny dipping. Back in high school. Apparently Dad had taken the pictures. For no other reason than to provide photographic proof when he tattled on his big sister to Grandma. I glanced up at my father. He wasn’t paying any attention.

“It’s strange not to hear her voice,” he said, hesitating before each word. It was the first thing he said since people started arriving. “Her laugh was always the loudest.”

“That’s because she laughed like a seal, Dad,” I said. He chuckled. At least it was half of a chuckle. It might have been half a sob.

“Be nice,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. He looked into the flames and wiped at his tears. He wouldn’t have wanted me to see. I pretended not to look. I forced my gaze away from the fireplace. I noticed a painting of a woman hanging on the opposite wall. I’d have to get a better look later.

“It’s true.” I licked my lips, wishing I’d kept my drink. “I love that laugh.” Loved, I corrected to myself.

Sitting next to the fire now I was melting, but Dad was right. Mama Joan loved to have a good fire going. Though she’d wait until winter, usually.

I stood up suddenly. “I’m going to get some water, you want some?” He nodded absently, looking back into the fire.

I pushed through the crowd again and as I made my way to the garage I glanced into the guest room. All the kids sat on the floor playing some sort of card game I didn’t recognize. Jim, my baby brother, sat amongst them trying to be one of them. He was twenty-two, but he managed to look quite comfortable in the group of pre-teens. He ruffled Kyle’s hair and Kyle beamed up at his “Uncajim”.

I continued down the hall, trailing my fingers over an oil painting of Mama Joan’s first home. I opened the door to garage and stepped into the cool air. Apparently they’d run out of room and filled ice chests full of drinks and left them outside. I checked the first one and found nothing but rum. Mama Joan loved rum. Everyone brought a bottle. The second one had even more alcohol, ranging from Corona to home-stilled gin in a mason jar. Including an open bottle of chocolate beer that smelled like vomit. I moved onto the third ice chest. Bingo. I grabbed a bottle of water and closed the lid. There was another ice chest full of caffeinated beverages. I looked at the door leading back into the main part of the house. There were so many people in there, I didn’t care to go back inside.

The garage door was open and for that I was thankful. I made my way down the driveway and sat on the curb. I looked back up at my cousins’ house and opened the water. The exterior of the house did not match the inside. The walls were covered in green siding. The shingles on the roof were a darker shade of the same color. It looked just like the other houses on the street. Homeowner’s Association, probably.

I heard footsteps behind me and groaned inwardly, laying my head on my arms. “I didn’t get to say hi to you when you got here, Lisa.” It had to be Penny. No one else cared when I came and went. She wasn’t even technically related. I turned around and smiled at her as she took a seat on the cement. “How are you?”

“I’m ok, I guess.” I took another drink of the water. “And what about you?”

“We’re good,” she said. She always said that. We’re good. It answered all the questions about her and her kids in two words. I never said it right. People always kept asking questions. “How’s Kyle?”

“He wants to change his name to Rain,” I said, and did not elaborate any further. At eight-years-old, my youngest decided to become one with nature. And in nature they don’t take baths. And in nature they kill their food themselves. Like the lizard he brought home and insisted I fry it up for dinner. I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Just a phase, I kept telling myself. Just a phase. Just. A. Phase.

Some bird was hooting in the trees behind me. I glanced up into the trees and squinted, trying to find the shape of a bird. Finally a large owl swooped down over the street and into a tree on the other side. A cat darted out from under a car near the tree and ran down the street. I wondered how the Homeowner’s Association would feel about killer owls and stray cats.

“How about Jade? She still dancing?” I asked Penny, turning my attention back to my cousin. There wasn’t even blood relation and I still liked her more than most of the rest.

“No, no. She’s into cheerleading now,” Penny replied, a proud smile lighting up her face.

Why couldn’t I have normal kids? “That’s great.” I ran my hands through my hair. “Amy’s trying to get me to buy her the Complete Works of William Shakespeare for her birthday. Unabridged.”

“How old is she? Ten?” Penny asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

“Eleven.” I shook my head. Mama Joan would have been so proud of her. I could feel the tears in my chest again. “Did you know Terry’s pregnant? She and Brian are so excited.”

“I know. They already have names. Vanessa for a girl and Robert for a boy.” Penny’s face seemed to darken. She was having the same thought I was.

“Mama Joan will never get to know Vanessa or Robert. And they’ll never get to know her.” I bit back my tears, but Penny didn’t hide her tears. She just let them roll down her cheeks. I chewed on the inside of my cheek and stood up. “I told Dad I’d take him some water. He’s gotta be melting next to that fire.”

“He was starting in the tequila shooters when I came outside.”

Great. He hadn’t had a drink in four months. He’d been doing so well. “Thanks, Penny. Make sure you come over to the house tomorrow and say goodbye before you leave.”

“I will,” she replied as she reached up and squeezed my hand.

I made my way back over to the ice chests and grabbed another bottle of water. I took a deep breath before I started back inside.