Epic Journey IV: The Waypoint

(This was originally Epic Journey III)

You've done it. You've made it through the first day, and you see that hut on the top of the hill where you're going to spend the night. Inside, there is a warm fire, and maybe even company, but most importantly of all, there is a soft, warm bed waiting for you. That bed is your refuge, that place where you can go when things look rough, and by the time you wake up, everything is good again.

Epic Journey III.5: Realization 2

When did I start to feel like a grownup?

Epic Journey III: The Problem with Austerity

As a student, you often run into the concept of austerity. Life, and often finances, are such that you live a life that is much less ostentatious than you might wish it to be. During certain times of the year, you retreat into your cave and don't come out except for midnight food scavenging runs and ambushes on the printer when it is time for that. But, in theory, you deny yourself the simple pleasures of life, like dessert or TV time, and there is a point at which you crack and after that, it's all downhill. You spend inordinate amount of time on Hulu and Wikipedia, researching totally irrelevant things, much like you do during NaNoWriMo, but this time, you're even more distracted, because you've been depriving yourself for so long. That's not even counting the chocolate binges that are sure to come, at least if you get your hands on the money to procure chocolate, even the cheap chocolate. Your mind slowly melts away, wishing that you had more time or more motivation and you weren't writing long and rambling a pointless blog posts, but it's useless. That's the price of Austerity.

Epic Journey II: Realization

It's late, and you're freezing your ass off. You don't know why you decided to make your Epic Journey into cold places, as you're not a huge fan of the cold, but then you remember. It's December. That's why it's cold.

Epic Journey: Motivation

There are times in the life of every intrepid explorer that they must stop and consider their motivation. Why do I want to do this? Why shouldn't I be off doing something like watching TV or sleeping? That's the big question to answer, right now. I currently sit at 682 out of what will end up being about 1500 words... which is where I need to get by midnight, and I am questioning why I'm not getting this done, why I'm still sitting here after all this time.

The Haze of Academia: In which I embark on an epic journey of 10,000 words into nonfiction

The title says it all. I handwrote 9 pages in 2 hours today for my last in class exam, and now, I am about to embark on the epic journey, as it says in the title, of writing two papers, one take home exam, one reflections essay, and one set of comments to the BLM. Not in that order.
Yup. Here I go, into that hazy world in which so much happens and not as much is possible as in fiction.

Wish me luck. If I survive, I'll tell you a little more about The Letter from Last Friday.

Art the Intrepid

Ephemera: Life Changing Letters

In my closet, there hung a cream sheet of paper with a post written on it in pencil. I wrote it last year, about this time, and the words I wrote are telling.

I'd try to imagine how I'd be feeling right now. Elation and joy, of course. The thrill of the unknown. Nerves at leaving my childhood home. But when I imagined them, they never felt quite like this. I'm on top of the world.

Truth is, I'm still in shock. I think the top of the world feeling will come tomorrow, will come later, will come when I've processed everything that just happened.

But things are never going to be the same.

Just Shoot Me Now

Procrastination.

It's because of you that I'm turning in my card as a writer.

Well, that and the internet.

But it's true!!!

If not for you, I'd enjoy writing. As it is, writing is one of those things where you want to faceplant face onto keyboard repeatedly--and sadly, it'd probably come up with better results than the actual writing is.

You know, I totally wasn't going to post until finals was over, just because I knew it would turn into another one of those rants about procrastination, but yeah... I couldn't resist.

So here's my card. Here is my badge, too, to get me into the secret writer's lounge that I've never actually visited but have heard it is really cool.


Wait... why do we have a card and a badge? Isn't that a little redudant?

The End Is In Sight

This is it ladies and gents...my last week of college...EVER!  Or until I decide I no longer hate it and continue on for my Master's.  Like that will ever happen.  I probably shouldn't say that without the appropriate conviction.  But what a ride it turned out to be.  I feel like that kid coming off the rollercoaster for the first time:  a strange twisted expression that's mostly relief they weren't killed and a little near-disappointment that it's finally over.  Now to figure out what to do with myself next!  That will be the fun part.  Wish me luck.

Sad.

One of the local consignment stores, one that consistently has typewriters, is going out of business.

Excuse me why I go be bummed. It's always hard when an awesome local business can't make it.

ONE YEAR!!!!!?

Can you believe it? A year ago M and I made our first posts. I, for one, have to say thank you to the Typosphere for embracing us. For me, at least, it's so great to feel a part of a community outside my little world.

This year has been a year of up and downs. We've had some awesome memes (cowcasts and the Rhinos), and some sad times (my truck getting wrecked right after discovering Parry's office supplies.)   But it's been a very good year. I'm thankful for that.

A

In which I fall in love with a Lamy Safari

I held off on buying one until the day I found a shop I where I could try it in person. Sure, all you in the typosphere have raved about your Safaris, but I was skeptical. But, the good thing is that you all were right. I tried the Safari, and a week or two later (can't remember exactly), I went and bought my pink one.

Well, it's taken me a while to really tell if I like it or not. Sure, there are quirks that I still done love, like the fact that it's not happy writing in an upright position or that the grip forces me to use that proper position like my teachers taught. But overall, wow. It hangs out in my bag, occaisionally being inverted, and it hasn't yet leaked or gotten messy. It writes well on a plane or on the ground, and doesn't feather (although I'm not thrilled with it in a Moleskine... or maybe it is just the ink.) But yeah. It's awesome. I'm now one of those people who carries a fountain pen with them everywhere, just to be cool like that.

That's all for now. :)

Woot Procrastination

Yup. I have a precis of a paper due in the morning and I haven't started. I haven't even done the research. Woot!

Yay for being a procrastinator.

And sad news in that November is almost over. I need to get the SCSS fixed so I can at least type a page and say that I'm something of a Brigadier.

Okay, rambling is over. Sometime soon, I'm going to do my NaNoWriMo writeup and then we'll go from there...

Thanksgiving Weekend

There was a time when I'd spend Thansgiving writing my butt off for NaNoWriMo. This year, like a few of the years past, I don't know if I'll be doing that. Unlike most of my comrades, I hit 50K and then I stopped this year.

So, what will I be spending my Thanksgiving weekend doing?
The following, and in this order:
A research project on the various high altitude adaptions of global populations
A project examining the effects of the young male population in modern china, and the propensity for revolution
And finally, a project detailing water rights and issues surrounding them and food security in Utah and beyond.

They're due in that order, starting Dec. 7 and one a week after that. And there is a thesis I wrote... yeah, it really needs to be done, and my application for a masters program--my backup if I don't get into medical school this year.

So I just want to let you know that I may not be around for a while, you know? Trying to get all of this done may well drive me crazy, but that's okay. :)

Cheers.

A

Virginia Bird

According to my mother I get my ability to read and write, really read and write, from her mother and her mother before her.  As a little girl I uncovered snippets of information about this long-lost lady of my past, Nana.  The color blue.  Roses.  The most beautiful name:  Virginia Bird.  Dancing in nightgowns.  A love of ellipses.  Colts.  A twin sister.  Homemade bread.  The color of winter wheat.  Bright lipstick.  Bolivia.  Lymphoma.  And impossibly tiny cursive handwriting.  I put away her descriptive legacy for a rainy day, and remained oblivious.  It rained this weekend and I stretched and dragged it out again and began the months long process.  I pored over those crisp and gracious letters and transcribed until my back and neck shouted complaints, but oh, what a story I found:

She finished college with six children in tow.  She spent a night in a truck bed on a ferry floating the Amazon river.  She thought it beautiful, not inconvenient.  She was a world away when her mother died, and she knew.  She called my mother, her surprise, her seventh, Janie.  She wrote about my birth and held me even though it hurt.  She left not long after.  She was a Rodeo Queen.  She forgot her wedding dress and made everyone an hour late.  They honeymooned camping on horseback in Yellowstone.  She sang opera, beautifully.  She wrote letters to her stubborn sons in all caps.  She served on the school board.  She ran away to the library, twice, when she just couldn't stand her kids for one more minute.  Each time she returned bearing picture books.  She did cartwheels in a dress at age 58.  She was lovely.  She was lively.

And I know what I need to write now.

Holy hell what a day.

Okay, it's been a little over a day. And it involved 12,310 words. But I FINISHED! I matched my time from way back in 2007. 17 days. Yay. Finishing like this means I get to check out this consignment shop I've been eyeing...

Wow. What a feeling.

Okay, going to watch my rhino play with his new wings. And to get a real rhino for pictures today!

In which I lose faith in local stationary shops

I went to the stationary shop I always go to to get my letterpress thank you cards. Yeah. Fail. They didn't have them. And the staff were rude today. I'd already gone to one other today, and they didn't have any I liked either. I was even ready to go with just plain cards, not my favorite:


Sadly, I have not found any I like yet. Going to have to figure something else out. :P Going to start looking for other places to shop.

0 word day

You read it. 0 words. Zero. Cero. Trippy, no?

Stuck

Day 10 update.

I'm stuck. I outlined in October and now I can't look at it without getting nervous. that's not a good thing. See, Clemens, your side isn't always better. In the course of today, I've gone from two ideas to do four, the latest involving a merry band of woodland ninjas facing a sock shortage who decide to become pirates. Whoo.

Eight hundred words until I hit 30k. Then I sleep.

The Hump

Eight days in and I crossed 25k. I can do this.
Now, to sleep... perchance to dream... oh wonderful world of new ideas.

Two Things

1.  Best Friend + engagement ring = psychotic phone calls, all sorts of tears, and one serious sucker punch to my well-prepared-yet-still-wussy gut

2.  all you Nanowrimo crazies?  CARRY ON!  YOU MAKE ME PROUD!  (may I have time next year to actually join your ranks)

Everybody! Everybody!

It's November! It's November!

Time to Write! Time to Write!

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tomorrow, tomorrow...

NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow!!!!!!!!!! Betcha bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be writee... ing!!!!

Random

Even though I'm usually a dedicated pantster and a member of #teampantsless, still, this planning thing can honestly be kinda fun...

Sigh

So I'm reworking the book and it reminds me why I do not like editing. Timelines are a bite, and figuring out where everything fits may lead me to yet another year of pantsing and putting finishing this novel off.
Maybe I should just pants this one as well... that's the problem with loving a novel. You can love it too much, making it tough to give it the tough love it needs.