Nothing New, Just Procrastinating

Q:  So what's going on?

A:  I am job searching.  When I say that I'm job searching, I really mean that I'm finding creative ways of using the Internet that doesn't involve searching for jobs on the limited number of job search sites that I've bothered for about a month now.  Procrastination is something that I'm very familiar with, so this is nothing new.

My most recent procrastination is Here's the Story, specifically their podcasts.  I don't usually listen to podcasts, mostly for unknown reasons.  I guess I just feel like I should be doing something else at the same time.  Even though I'm procrastinating, I'm a very efficient procrastinator who does lots of things while she's procrastinating.  So I'm writing this blog post while I'm listening to stories from Here's the Story and I just finished up writing Poem-A-Day things while listening to (guess what) stories from Here's the Story.  It's a really neat show and I'm having a lot of fun listening to the stories.  It's quickly becoming a goal of mine to go see this show in person, and I'm really excited about this prospect.

I've been knitting a Hufflepuff scarf for my friend while simultaneously watching Dollhouse.  I'm getting pretty far in both the television show and on the scarf, so far that I'm almost halfway through the second season and the scarf reaches from the floor to my neck.  I am 5'5''.  Having a lot of fun with the show, especially when I can marvel at the acting talents of those who play the dolls because wow.  Just wow.

Additionally, I'm also starting multiple projects relating to my poetry, which is really neat, but I'm not even sure which one to focus on because I'm excited about them all but I don't have nearly enough hands to do all of them at once.  So really they're all sitting on the chair in my room in a stack of poetic mess, doing about as much as I am with regards to my job search.

A friend of my mother's asked me on Saturday night, "So how's the job search going, Brianna, does it totally suck?"  I had no idea what to say to that.  Well, honestly?  Yeah, a little bit.  I haven't heard from anyone, and the ones that I have heard of have said, "Thanks but no thanks."  That's fair, I can respect that.  The short version is that I don't have a job.  No job for Brianna.  I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm a little dejected, yeah.  So...I'm procrastinating for now.  Really hoping that the procrastination blows over soon...because I need to get some stuff done.

"If it weren't for the last minute, nothing would get done."

- Rita Mae Brown

Itunes Shuffle Poem 2

So I "wrote" one of these before, and I thought that I should write a blog post tonight while I'm procrastinating my Poem-A-Day make-up poems, so here we go.  Here's another itunes shuffle poem brought to you by the randomness that is my itunes.  Voila!

I feel it incumbent to warn any readers in advance that this poem includes random capitalization because I put it in Word originally and I was too lazy to play with the capitalization.  It also includes strange line breaks that I fiddled around with just because I could.  Good times.


1. Open up iTunes or the equivalent (or if you prefer, use your MP3 player)
2. Put it on shuffle.
3. Play 21 songs.
4. If you come across an instrumental song, skip it and play another song instead. Otherwise, no skipping!
5. Write down the first line of each of the first twenty songs. This is your poem. You can't change the line order, but you can group the stanzas however you like.
6. The first line of the twenty-first song is your poem's title.


Good times for a change
By: Brianna

When I look
 into your eyes
 I see sunshine:
The piano is not firewood
Yet.

You think I’m
an ignorant
savage:
Elope with me Miss Private
and we’ll sail around the world
(Where I go when I go there).

Oh yeah, oh yeah,
I’m falling
D
O
W
N
Time to lay claim
to the evidence.

If I was a flower
growing wild and free…
If you love somebody,
better tell them while they’re
here.

There’s a song that’s
inside
of my soul:
Black crows
on a blue sky,
always making a mess.

Goodbye L.A.
Morning falls like
rain into the city life.

Don’t talk,
don’t say
a thing…
And if your heart
stops
beating
 I’ll be here
Wondering…

Come with me and you’ll
be in a world
of pure imagination:
I had visions, I was in them.

Sunshine go away today,
Seems I’ve got to have
a change of scene--
Feelin’s gettin’ stronger.

The Future

We're all afraid of it to some extent.  My boss told me last year that I'm perpetuating my own fear of The Future by capitalizing unnecessarily in my Twitter hashtags and whenever I refer to The Future.  Like right now.  The Future.

As a new graduate from university, college, whatever you call it, The Future is staring me right in the face.  When I think about it, it feels as if I need to make decisions about The Future, which makes sense.  Choose your fate, all that jazz, because we make our own fate, right?  But when you pick a path, don't you eliminate the possibilities and the potential of the paths that you could have chosen in the first place but didn't?  I have ideas, and some of them are silly or downright crazy, but I'm afraid of picking just one because I would have to commit to just one idea.  I don't want to limit myself.  Which is all well and good, but when The Future is standing nose to nose with you and you're still avoiding eye contact...it gets a little awkward.

I know one thing for sure.

I want to write.

I don't really care what else I do to maintain time and funding for writing, as long as it doesn't suck out my soul and leave me too drained at the end of the week to do anything but sleep.  I'd really love to be able to do something that makes me happy, and inspires me to write.

So the things that I've been thinking about for The Future all go in different directions, but these are my thoughts because I'd rather write a blog post right now than do the homework that I'm so good at procrastinating.  (Actually, if I could get paid to procrastinate, I would be richer than J.K. Rowling.)

Editor
I like helping people fix their written work.  I really like writing all over a piece of paper and drawing arrows and giving feedback about a person's work.  I like critiques.  I like workshops.  I like playing around with sentence structure and playing with other people's ideas.
I've been reading about book editors for the project that I'm procrastinating right now, and the majority of what I've read talks a lot about figuring out if a certain idea or book will sell and then selling that to the market.  This sounds a lot more business-y than I'm willing to be, and not a whole lot like what I've thought editing is like.  I'm wondering if I'm thinking of a different type of editing or if I'm thinking of lower level editors instead of the head honcho of a publishing company.
I don't really need extra schooling to be an editor or work in the publishing industry.

Student Affairs Professional
I really loved working as an RA at school.  I really enjoy working with first year students to help them figure things out, and I've always loved being a big sister or a mentor for those who are younger than me.  Though I say that I hate people a lot of the time, the truth is that I actually do like people.  I like being able to see that I've helped someone out, and I like being able to help people learn and develop.  My boss at school had a big impact on my senior year, and I want to be able to pass on that help to someone else.
I've talked to my boss and people who I know who are in this field, and their passion for their work is infectious.  It's one of those things that I get really excited about in bursts, and then get lost in trying to figure out how to do it.  There's probably a lot more administration and paperwork to be done in this field than I'm thinking, but being able to see that I'm making a difference or helping people would be huge.
I would have to go to graduate school, preferably for some college student personnel Masters degree.

Librarian
I love the library.  Though there are some libraries (particularly academic ones) that creep me out, I really love the idea of neighborhood libraries and how they could be a central hub for a community.  Creating community was a huge thing with me in college because I was an RA, and I would want to do things to create or maintain a community in a neighborhood because I think that would be really neat.  Plus I would love to be able to share my enthusiasm for books.
I'm not really sure what a librarian does outside of shelve books, assist with research projects, recommend books, help with homework, or plan community programs.  I've heard that librarians at academic librarians have to write papers and present them at conferences, but that's not really something I would be interested in.  I want to be able to help people somehow.
I would have to go to graduate school for a Masters in Library Sciences.  Which I have no idea what it means.

So what I'm saying is that if I pick one out of these three ideas, chances are I'm going to have to go to graduate school, and then I'll have to worry about all of those things.  I really want to be able to see that I'm making a difference in a community or a person's life or in their written work.  Another thing about these is that editors and librarians are sort of on a sinking ship what with self-publishing and e-books.  So I'm not really sure if either of those careers would look like something I would want to do in The Future Future anyway.

I suspect that I'm thinking too much, which is usually the case for these things, but I can't help but sit on that rocking chair of worry and get nowhere because it feels like if I'm worrying about The Future I can justify not doing something immediately.  What I'm saying is that I have no idea what I want to do with my life, and I'm not quite sure that that's okay anymore.  I'm getting bombarded from all sides with questions of what I'm going to do or who I'm going to be, and the only answer I have is "I don't know yet."  But that doesn't seem to satisfy any of the askers.  Trust me, it's not making me feel any better either.

"It's time to begin, isn't it?  I get a little bit bigger but then I'll admit I'm just the same as I was.  Now don't you understand that I'm never changing who I am."

- Imagine Dragons, 'It's Time'

Under Pressure

So I have a story that's due in a little less than 12 hours.  Said story must be 10-12 pages.  How many do I have?  Approximately 1.  This is my blog post for the day.

Taking a Survey

So I haven't written a post here for quite a while, and I'm overdue.  Unfortunately I'm not feeling very creative, so I went back into the Facebook surveys that I put in my notes for a while there, and I'm updating this particular one so I have a new version.  Cool?  Cool.

1 What time did you get up this morning?
Well.  I got up some time around 6:30 and went in and out of consciousness until about 7:15 AM.

2. How do you like your steak?
Well done.  Or just cooked.  Cooked steak is nice.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
The last movie I saw at the actual movie theatre was Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows.  It was good, but I liked the first one better.  I was excessively pleased that I understood what little French showed up in the movie though...

4. What is your favorite TV show?
Doctor Who, hands down.  I also really love Glee and Once Upon a Time.  I really need to catch up with House and Castle, but I can't remember where I left off last.

5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?
Somewhere I can be happy, but Edinburgh, Scotland would be ideal.

6. What did you have for breakfast today?
I had...French toast sticks, potatoes, sausage, and orange/cranberry juice from Saga because I'm cool like that.

7. What is your favorite cuisine?
I adore Chinese food.  I could probably eat pasta (Italian) until the cows come home.  I also love Mexican.  And...just about everything, really.

8. What foods do you dislike?
I really don't like carrots, which explains a lot about why I can't see very well...

9. Favorite Place to Eat?
Any place where there's food.  I particularly enjoy dining with my family, I love pie at Baker's Square, and breakfast at Walker Brother's.  I'm also a fan of First Wok and El Porton.  

10. Favorite salad dressing?
Ranch.

11.What kind of vehicle do you drive?
Currently I don't drive anything because I'm at school, but when I'm at home I drive an 18 year old gray mini van named Wolfgang.

12. What are your favorite clothes?
Jeans + t-shirt + blazer + cool socks = ultimate comfort and classiness

13. Where would you visit if you had the chance?
Paris, France.

14. Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full?
Both.  You can't get me with this question because I'm both a pessimist and an optimist.

15. Where would you want to retire?
Somewhere quiet.  Somewhere close to nature, preferably a forest or farm of some sort.  I really don't care how close the nearest hospital is.

16. Favorite time of day?
Morning.  I love sunrises.


17. Where were you born?
Des Plaines, IL.

18. What is your favorite sport to watch?
Hockey.  It's the blood.  :^P

19. Who do you think will not tag you back?
I should delete this question....

20. Person you expect to tag you back first?
Should delete this one too...

21. Who are you most curious about their responses to this?
And this one...

22. Bird watcher?
I'm not sure why this question exists.  But no, I'm not really a bird watcher.  If I see something pretty with feathers, I might watch it for a little while.

23. Are you a morning person or a night person?
Morning Person.  But being a college student, I have to adapt to being both.  At the same time.

24. Do you have any pets?
One dog, Dandy for "Dandelion." And if younger brothers count...I've got one of those too.

25. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share?
Well.  I applied for the Disney College Program, and I'm waiting to hear back from them on whether I got it or not!

26. What did you want to be when you were little?
A teacher. Because I loved all my teachers back in the day.  I also wanted to be a veterinarian and a Broadway actress.

27. What is your best childhood memory?
Playing outside all summer long with my little brother and our neighborhood buddies, going on adventures to museums with my mom.

28. Are you a cat or dog person?
Dog, most definitely.

29. Always wear your seat belt?
Yup! It just feels weird when I don't...

30. Been in a car accident?
Nope.

31. Any pet peeves?
Stubborn stupid people. Large groups of slow walking teenage girls that stop to hug each other every five seconds. --> this hasn't changed...

32. Favorite Pizza Topping?
Cheese. No question.  Oh!  But I like pineapple too!

33. Favorite Flower?
Lily!

34. Favorite ice cream?
Anything delicious.  I used to love Cupcake ice cream until the company figured out that I loved it and stopped making it...mint chocolate chip is classic, chocolate chocolate is divine...hm.  

35. Favorite fast food restaurant?
Steak 'n Shake counts, right?

36. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
Zero, I passed on the first try even though I almost stopped on train tracks and almost ran a stop sign...

37. From whom did you get your last email?
One of my RAs!  :^D

38. Which store would you choose to max out your card?
Barnes and Noble.  Or Half Price Books if I'm feeling economical.  Or Hobby Lobby.  All equally magical.

39. Do anything spontaneous lately?
I went for "coffee" with fifteen minutes to spare before dinnertime...

40. Like your job?
I love my job.  I love working with people, I love mentoring, I love helping out, I love walking around with a walkie talkie, I love knocking on doors and yelling at people to get out of the potentially burning building, I love...

41. Broccoli?
Absolutely.  I'll eat your's if you don't want it...

42. What was your favorite vacation?
My high school theatre's trip to Scotland was pretty sweet.  My family's last trip to Arizona was a lot more fun than I had previously anticipated...

43. Last person you went out to dinner with?
D4 1.0 at Saga!  Because I'm cool like that (again).

44. What are you listening to right now?
I'm listening to Pandora playing me the delightful sounds of Neon Trees' "1983." 

45. What is your favorite color?
Orange.

46. How many tattoos do you have?
Zero, though I once convinced someone that my mother and I had matching tattoos...

47. How many are you tagging for this quiz?
Pretty sure this question should go away too...

48. What time did you finish this quiz?
11:49 PM

50. Coffee Drinker?
Nope, and I'm confused as to why this is after the "finish the quiz" question?

P.A.D. November -- 11/18/2011

I'm procrastinating a little.  But this is a rough draft of one of the poems resulting from Poem-a-Day November.

November 18, 2011

The poet rolls
on the tile,
shouting in anguish.
She sweeps the floor
with every thrash
and gesture.

The poet stares
at Post-Its,
observing the fold and curve.
She sets them alight
in her imagination.

The poet wears
her notebook
on her head
and claims it helps
her think.

The poet twirls
her Bic pen
between knuckles.
The pen flips and soars
across the room.

The poet scribbles
on newspaper corners
after midnight
under blue cell phone
illumination.

The poet plays
with the vegetables
on her plate.
She stacks greenbeans,
and smashes carrots
into an orange paste.

The poet learns
trivia.
The poet
lives.

(Please don't steal my poem, this is an original work and it's all I have.)

Account for Yourself!

I hate Accounting.  For real.  Like a lot.

When I first started the classes for my business minor, I was only taking one business class at the time.  It was Accounting.  That class wasn't too bad.  It was very basic, methodical, and I could handle it because the book walked me through everything really simply and patted me on the head when I was right.  So it really wasn't too bad.  It might have helped that I had a friend in that class who wasn't an Accounting major.

This year, I'm taking three business classes at one time.  That means three out of the total four classes that I'm taking this semester...are business classes.  Aside from the crushing depression that I feel every time I enter one of those classrooms because I just feel creatively stifled (aside from the poetry writing, but that's a way of coping, right?)...it's just generally awful.  The material's horrible.

But the reason I hate this Accounting class is because without fail I always feel stupider when I leave it.  I don't understand why you have to do so many complicated calculations to figure out how much money you have when you can really just go out to your bank vault and count the bills.  I realize this would be a problem mostly because it's the accountants who do the calculations because they're never actually allowed to touch other people's money so it would be a problem if the bill-counting was standardized, but whatever.

[I was going to put an Accounting cartoon here, but it was copyrighted...]

I understood Accounting last year.

This year...not so much.  I don't understand why I have to know about standard costs and statements of cash flows, and I don't understand how I'm supposed to know all this.

There's one kid in my class who sounds like he was born with all of this stamped on his brain matter.  He raises his hand and has intelligent sounding conversations with our professor in the middle of class which leaves me to stare out the window longingly but also leaves me feeling like I'm inadequate.  Not that I want to be adequate when it comes to Accounting because it's so damn frustrating.  And counter intuitive (I swear that was one word...).  And I don't want to sacrifice a piece of my soul so I can be good at something that would so obviously crush whatever spirit I have left.

I say all this because I have a test on Tuesday.  I'm sitting at home (at my real home home where I grew up home) staring at this Accounting book in misery, trying to figure out how I'm supposed to study for this.  Am I supposed to just memorize things?  Is that going to be the easiest way for an English major to figure out what's going on?  Or close?  I really have no motivation to study.  Aside from my GPA.  It'd be nice if my GPA would stay where it is.  That's really my only motivation for doing anything vaguely business related...because now I realize that if I screw up, my GPA will suffer.  Which is great.  Though not really.

It also doesn't help that this is a test the week before Finals.  Because my professor is a sadist.  I'm convinced.

What's my test on, you ask?
Well.
It's on chapters 9, 11, 12, and 13 in the devil book, I mean...my Accounting book: Introduction to Managerial Accounting.
So that means...
Chapter 9 -- Standard Costs
Chapter 11 -- Relevant Costs for Decision Making
Chapter 12 -- Capital Budgeting Decisions
Chapter 13 -- "How Well Am I Doing?" Statement of Cash Flows
I love when my Accounting book tries to be cute.  It's really quite endearing.  I especially enjoy when it tries to be "hip" and use direct quotes from supposedly real people in its chapter titles.  It's really adorable.  I can't get enough of it.

So...cheerful post next time?  Alright.

"Account no man happy till he dies."

- Euripides

Even More Things I've Learned

Today is a good day.  It's also a spectacularly good day for writing a list.  So here we go!

More Things I've Learned:

• Carry a fork.  It's good for eating ice cream, pudding, and eggs.  All in the same day.
• The Kool-Aid jammers (or whatever they're called) will not tell you where they're made/manufactured.  You will be convinced they come from China.
• Do not kid about buying alcohol for the underage resident of the underage RA who's with you at the time...
• There will be a question of coincidence versus fate when you pick up that trashy romance novel to find the name of a person you know in the synopsis.
• The cashier at Target will question your intelligence.  You will resent this because you go to the better school in town.
• The answer is always "pretend you like someone else" if someone's creeping on you.
• Ukulele on a porch swing?  Always yes.
• I've got the moves like Jagger.  Sometimes.
• My favorite fall jacket is eerily similar to my boyfriend's.  Although his probably doesn't have a hole in the pocket.
• Nothing in "Go Getter Greg" was planned...naaaah....
• Kyle just wants to dance.
• I am only semi-cliche.  (Teddy bear with a butter knife.)
• Hugs in parking lots.  That's it.
• Drinks that are neon-colored are delicious.  And taste like Kool-Aid.
• "I'll have a shot if she does."  Challenge accepted!
• Some contacts are frightening.
• Yes, you can make a scene in Target.  And Kroger.  And Jewel.
• Bats don't like being woken up and will not "glide" if you drop them in the bushes.
• Seize every "loppertunity" and push down dead trees.
• Hang out in the kitchen and you will get fed cookies.
• The Brat Stop is terrifying.
• River Song is only slightly better than I thought she was.
• Notes are always better and more educational if you write them in pretty pen.
• The first time you use your disappearing TARDIS mug, you will use it to eat vanilla ice cream (from goodness only knows how long ago) with a fork.
• You will wake up after a night on the town with a strange craving for greasy food.
• I have written over 40 poems as part of my poem-a-day project (and I have just realized that this can be made into the PAD project.  I'm not sure how I feel about this.)
• It doesn't matter how determined you are to "work" on Fall Break Day, you will spend the majority of your time travelling around town, ranting to your friend in a sorority house, and worrying about the work you need to get done.

That's all I've got for now, we'll see if I can learn more things before the end of this weekend!

"Personally, I'm always ready to learn, although I do not always like being taught."

- Winston Churchill

Forget You?

"The calendar says March 10th, but the last day you remember is March 1st."  (Thank you, Twitter!)

I woke up on someone's couch.  It was this squat puke green number with the stuffing oozing out of one of the arms and I was sprawled out across it.  I blinked a couple times in an attempt to get my bearings right up until I realized that my glasses weren't jammed onto my face in their usual position.  As I sat up, the room swayed around me.  I closed my eyes and felt around on the floor next to the couch for my glasses, coming upon them only after nudging aside what I hoped was a dog's chew toy.

Once my glasses were in place, it was much easier to get a handle on where I could possibly be.  One side of the room was made up entirely of very dirty windows that looked out on a rusted metal fire escape.  The walls of the room were plastered with old movie posters and torn up wallpaper.

"Where...am I?" I croaked, discovering only then my sore throat and the fact that I must not have spoken in a good amount of time.

It was then when I saw the day-by-day calendar lying on the coffee table next to my makeshift bed.  March 10th.  March 10th?  That couldn't possibly be right.  It had to be some sort of joke.  I grabbed my hair and squeezed my eyes shut trying to remember the last date I could.

March 1st.  Again.  It couldn't be right.  March 1st.  My best friend's birthday.  What had we done that night?

I wrenched my eyes open and surveyed my surroundings again.  Same movie posters, same torn wallpaper, same dirty windows, and a half empty coffee mug on the table near the calendar.  Non-descript, and virtually harmless.  Hopefully.  I examined my arms, looking for some sign that I had been abducted or kidnapped or beaten brutally and then sent into a nine day coma.  No luck.  I did find a stamp on my hand in the shape of a fleur-de-lis, but that could be from anything, right?  I searched the pockets of my jeans and found my cell phone (dead), a wad of singles, a crushed gum wrapper, a penny, and an arcade token.  Leaving me with...no indication as to what I had done nine days ago or what I was doing here right now.

And leaving me essentially...at a loss.

That is, until there was a rattling at the door.  Someone stuck a key into the door and turned it, allowing them entrance into whatever prison or haven this might be for me.  I opted for the most logical method of defense: playing dead.  I flung myself back across the rundown couch and promptly shut my eyes, realizing almost too late that I was still wearing my glasses, giving me about a half a second to throw them onto the coffee table and return to my sleeping position before the stranger came walking towards me.  I froze, expecting the person to turn and walk away at any moment, but I could hear them coming closer until they were kneeling on the floor next to me.  I felt gentle fingers brushing the hair off my face and heard an exhale of breath before they stood and retreated, leaving me where I was.  I could hear the stranger rummaging about in one of the connected rooms, but they collected whatever it was they meant to get and left without a word (which makes sense considering they believed me to be asleep.  Or dead...).

Once I heard the lock click, I bolted from the couch, grabbing my glasses as I set off to explore this place where I had woken up after days of whatever it was.  The kitchen was just as sad as the living room where I had awoken, with dirty dishes in the sink and very small amounts of food in the refrigerator.  There was only one bedroom which was dark, but fairly neat.  The bathroom I left for last because I figured it would be the most revealing.  And I was right.  When I opened up the medicine cabinet, I found the usual aspirin and Band-Aids, but I also found a single prescription bottle made out for Keri Kalman (thank you, random name generator...) as well as nail polish remover and a modest collection of earrings.

So I had been kidnapped by a woman.  Okay.  I could deal with this.  I was sure I could take her.
But then there was that hair brushing thing.  And she took care of my glasses.  No kidnapper would be that worried about their prisoner.  Unless they wanted their prisoner for other things that they needed to be kept alive for...like ransom...or being sold into slavery.  I wasn't sure my parents would pay a ransom, and slavery was out of the question, so my only conclusion was that I would have to escape.  Unless this Keri Kalman had saved me from something worse.  The apartment was modest, and may have looked rundown, but all signs pointed to the resident being good-hearted or at least having good taste in movies.

March 1st.  March 1st...it was Marcella's 21st birthday.  We thought we'd go out with some friends and make a tour of the bars and clubs in town.  Your average 21st birthday celebration.  We had about three of mine and Marcella's mutual friends with us, and we had hopped three bars.  We were feeling a little tipsy by this point.  It was my idea to check out this new club in town...

"Come on, guys, it'll be fun," I giggled, grabbing Marcella's hand and making my best puppy dog eyes at her.  "Marcie...pleeeeaaaaase?"


Marcella was willing to do just about anything at that point, but our friends decided that it was high time that they went home.


"Fine!" I called after them, my interest turning swiftly back to the peeling paint on the front of the new club's door.  You would think that they would repaint before opening said door for business, but apparently not.


I dragged Marcella inside only to discover that the club was dark, the only light coming from the green strobe light at the front of the place where the DJ was playing some strange music that seemed to combine an Irish jig with your typical rap beat.  I may have been further gone than I thought at the time, but I could have sworn that I saw a guy with goat legs approach me and Marcella, shoving a Solo cup of some liquid into my hands and taking Marcella out onto the dance floor.  I looked down at the cup that I had taken out of reflex and bent my head to sniff the liquid.  It smelled like a mix between honey and roses, and the second the scent hit my nostrils, it was all I could do to keep myself from drinking it all in a single gulp.  The substance called to me.  "Drink me!"  It was like the bottle from Alice in Wonderland had a voice and was conspiring against me to be rude to this random guy.  But he and Marcella were halfway across the dance floor and it didn't look like they were coming back anytime soon.  Why not?  "Just a sip" turned into "finishing it off" and then I was being handed another cup by hands I didn't recognize.  By this time Marcella and the guy were nowhere in sight.  The last thing I remembered was throwing my third cup of the same sweet liquid into a trash can and giggling maniacally as I climbed up onto the bar...

Facebook Fast

For the past couple years, my friend has given up Facebook for Lent.  Forty days without Facebook?  I thought she was crazy.  And deep down I knew I couldn't do it.  Mostly because when I log onto my computer, one of the first three websites I check is Facebook.  And even then, I can be innocently surfing the web, and I'll just naturally gravitate back to Facebook to see if one of those little red notifications has popped up.

After a good ten minutes on StumbleUpon, Brianna pressed CTRL + T and opened up a fourth tab in Google Chrome.  Without even thinking about it, she typed "fa" and Chrome finished the word she was about to type.  "Facebook."  The sign-in process is second nature with auto-complete for her e-mail address, and lightspeed typing of her password that she's used for everything since the eighth grade.


A little red notification attaches itself to the little world in the upper left hand corner.


The excitement builds as she mouses over to the notification.  Was it a comment on one of her cleverly worded statuses?  Was it a Wall post?  Or a picture?  Or a video?  Or was it a request from Mafia Wars?


Click.


"Someone has liked your status."

So basically I check my Facebook every five minutes for nothing.  I just can't convince myself that nothing's going to change!  As much as I tell myself nothing's going to change in five minutes, I can't resist.

Last year, I decided to go on a Facebook fast for a week to see if I could do it.  Completely cold turkey.  The week went well, but I realized it was impractical, because there were (believe it or not) people trying to get in touch with me via Facebook.  That realization brought me to the conclusion that I could fast during the school week.  Sunday through Thursday.  Because Friday's not technically a school day even if you have class...  Freeing up so much time, it helped me with my homework and my real social life, instead of my social networking life.

Today's the second day of classes, and I've decided that I need to do this again.  I'm going to have to write a paper for Senior Seminar, the longest paper I've ever written, and I'm taking three business classes that I'm worried about.  Not to mention I'm a senior and I deserve a social life.  So no Facebook for me during the week.  Let's do this!

Welcome to Facebook!

No, really. Why blog?

Blogging every day, there has to be a reason for that.

There is.

As a writer, I’m supposed to write (shocker, right?). Sometimes I do. A lot of times, I just avoid writing like I avoid small children. Either because I don’t have the time to sit down and balance pen on paper or I do have the time, and I find something else to do. Usually Facebook, refreshing the page until that little red flag goes up on my notification globe, alerting me to a “like” on my status or a comment on one of my posts. I live a thrilling life, really I do.

But why do I avoid writing if I’m a writer? That gets us to the juicy bit. It’s because I’m afraid. Simple as that. Afraid I’ll mess up, afraid the story’ll get away from me, afraid the characters’ll take over or just fall flat, afraid I won’t write the right words or punctuate correctly, you name it, I’m probably afraid of it. As I’ve come to realize, I’m a bit of a control freak with regards to my writing. I tend to latch onto an idea and plot it out, mapping out every little incident and then throwing my characters onto that map and expecting them to follow the path I made from them or else. And sometimes my characters don’t like that, leading to my story sounding wrong and the reaction of “It was a good idea, but…”. In an attempt to loosen up a little bit on my characters, plots, and general concepts this semester, I sat down at my computer the night before my story was due and typed. I didn’t let myself think and I didn’t stop to check if what I was writing was okay. I just wrote. And that was the story that my professor liked the most, running his hand over his long white hair and laughing in that crinkled-up smile sort of way and saying, “That’s the real Brianna!” Control freak Brianna responded by pounding her head on the nearest hard surface while the real Brianna did a happy dance amidst sparkly confetti. In an attempt to get back to that real Brianna without a drug-induced stupor, I’m going to write every day. No editing, not too much thought, just writing.

And then there’s writer’s block. I’m inclined to believe the advice that “writer’s block is merely a refusal to write.” With that said, I’m usually met by one of two reactions: 1) sullen acceptance and reluctant writing or 2) anger at myself because I’m not writing. Which can be very confusing. Today I have decided that I’m not going to let myself refuse to write, and I’m not going to let myself be plagued by writer’s block, a malady that I so often complain of. This is my attempt at being positive about my writing. So more often than not, I might be writing about writer’s block. Or writing, because sometimes that helps.

My plan. As of right now, I plan to have two themed days. Mondays and Fridays. On Mondays, I’ll write about wishes. Things that I wish happened, things I wish I had, places I wish I could be, etc. Hypothetical situations that I can explore, hopefully whimsical and fun. Fridays will be Poetry Fridays during which I will read a poem (not by me) via video and upload it to this blog. Because I flatter myself that someone might want to listen to me read poetry. The accompanying blog post will either be about that poem, ideas that spring from it, or something related to poetry. On the remaining days of the week (as of right now), I will be focusing on questions that prompt thought, reflection or just general musings.

You may have noticed that I actually started this blog a while ago. For now we’re going to ignore that, and pretend that for the purposes of this exercise that I’m starting anew in an attempt to actually maintain this blog with some structure and frequency.

“Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it.”
- Alexandre Dumas Père

The Hour Past Midnight

In being up later than I normally would be, I notice a number of different things. For one, it's astounding how quiet the street outside is. At home, I'm pretty sure I can hear the busy street near us, and the train especially in the early hours of the evening.
And then there are the empty pop cans clanking down the hall. After spending two or so weeks believing that my residents drank a lot of pop and were just making sure that they recycled correctly, I discovered that no. Oh no, my residents are far too clever for that. They strung up four feet worth of pop cans. From the ceiling. In the inlet where their door opens. Needless to say, every time someone enters or leaves that room...::clank:: ::claaaaaank:: Annoying? Absolutely. Especially at 1:30 in the AM.

And now my sleep-deprived brain has begun pondering what "AM" means. And "PM," for that matter. I supposed "After Midnight" would be appropriate for "AM," but where does that leave "PM"? "Past Midday"? That seems like a stretch. I wonder who came up for those terms. Was it the train system giving us time zones and neat ways of saying "in the afternoon or evening" without resorting to 13:00? But then the Europeans run on 24hr clocks. So was it the crazy American that gave us the weird measurement system that decided that the U.S. should have two 1:00s in the course of a day? Why would you do that? Naturally if I'm saying I'm going to meet someone for lunch at 1:00, they assume I mean in the afternoon, but what if I had no sense of when lunch should be eaten, and I showed up at the restaurant at 1:00 in the morning only to realize that the joint's hours are 9 AM to 10 PM, leaving me standing out on the curb without a "lunch"? What then?

A random update on my Lenten goal to write every day of Lent...I'm actually doing surprisingly well. I did cheat a couple times, making up for days I missed by writing extra, but hey. At least it's getting done, and there were only a couple days like that anyway. Chances are when I get home all this effort is going to be forgotten. Hopefully that won't happen, considering I'm so proud I've gotten this far writing every single day. That never happens. Never... I always promise myself that I'll get into the habit of writing every day, but I never actually buckle down and do it. What makes this time different, I have no idea, but something's working.

Maybe it's the procrastination.

Homework

So I discovered that my friend who shares her itunes library with everyone within range has the Indiana Jones soundtrack on her itunes. While a normal human being would probably not listen to a movie soundtrack just for fun, I put it on so I could listen to something that wouldn't distract me while I was doing my homework. And I made a discovery.

Listening to Indiana Jones while doing my homework makes it feel like an epic accomplishment when I finish something.

So after finishing a review of a play I went to see last week and e-mailing it to myself, the soundtrack was finished. My next task? Astronomy accompanied by Star Wars. Appropriate? I think so. Highly appropriate, in fact.

It's really a comfort to know that I find enjoyment in my homework when it has a soundtrack. Why can't life have a soundtrack? I really sometimes wish that it would, but then I realize that my life would have the ironic "oh how sad" mocking music whenever I do something stupid, and I worry that that would get a little old. And would other people be able to hear my life's soundtrack? I wonder, because I'd rather not have other people hear the "love theme" when someone I think is attractive walks by. That would just be embarrassing...for everyone involved, I'm sure. Though amusing for others, I suppose. As of right now, if my life had a soundtrack, I would like it to be composed by John Williams or Hans Zimmer. Or maybe Alan Silvestri. Not so sure about Danny Elfman, he does a lot of creepy stuff...
I'm going to have to give some thought as to who shall compose the soundtrack of my life. I'll keep you posted.

Some Preferences

As I attempt to write close to every day this month, I've discovered a number of preferences I've developed through the years. Going through my old writings, I was relieved to note that my handwriting has improved since 4th or 5th grade or so. Definitely good to know I don't take up half a page with three sentences of my gigantic writing. My writing is still admittedly larger than others', but it's significantly neater now. Such a relief.

Preferences:
- Dark black pen, ball point...preferably Bic (none of that "gray" ink, and not the ink that sinks through the paper either)
- NEVER pencil.
- Papermate blue pens, if I have to write in blue. Black wins, usually.
- Notebook over loose leaf, usually.
- Handwritten, not typed.
- Quiet, or very VERY low music.

And that's all I can think of right now. Pretty basic. I was just thinking about it and wondered if any of my quirks were odd. To me, they're perfectly normal, or maybe a little odd, but not horribly so. I mean, maybe the dark black ink is a little weird, but I can tell the difference between that icky gray-ish ink and real black ink. It just looks so much better in true black ink.

A thought on chronic writer's block:
Everything that I've ever read that offers a solution to writer's block tells me, "Just write." And I can't help but wonder, "But how am I supposed to write? I have writer's block!" It's as if those people don't understand what you're telling them. You're telling them that there's no other alternative for you but to pound your head up against a brick wall, and they tell you in that infuriatingly patient text, "Just write." So what they're saying is, you have to struggle and run into that brick wall a couple hundred times with a pen, and then it'll come tumbling down, your own personal Wonderland of infinite story lines. An oasis of inspiration. Is that right? Is the pen mightier than the brick?

"The difference between the right word and the almost right word is really a large matter — it's the difference between a lightning bug and the lightning." - Mark Twain

New Years

It's New Years.
A new year.
2010.
The year that will mark my being two whole decades old. (Because the world obviously revolves around me. Clearly.)

So in the spirit of the new year, I have a friend who is setting a goal to write at least 300 words a day, and finish at least one story a month. If I'm remembering correctly. And now...because I've read those goals, I sit here thinking to myself, "Should I do something like that? I don't write nearly enough to be considered a real writer because I barely practice."
And then I remember my track record for completing goals.

Goal: Finish all my college applications by Thanksgiving.
Result: I was lucky to finish all my college applicaitions by Christmas.

Goal: Read at least 100 (or was it 50?) books in a year.
Result: I've either a) lost track or b) forgotten to read for fun because of classwork.

Goal: Finish packing before the day before I leave.
Result: Ha ha, I think you can figure this one out.

Remembering said track record leads me to wish I could figure out why it is that I have such a bad habit of either forgetting or losing track of my goals OR just all out ignoring them. I'd like to say it's procrastination. At least, that's the reason for the first and third examples... But the second example is the kind of goal a writing goal would end up being for me. And that's a forget.
I wonder if there's a way to encourage myself to write at least once every day. Like it doesn't even matter what. I'm thinking a really pretty journal would be fun...but then there's the issue of even if I see the journal, that's not going to make me think, "Oh, right! I haven't written today! I should do that!" No, there has to be another way of keeping track when I write and how often.
Could I keep tabs on my calendar? I mean, that'll be right by my desk, if I find a way of organizing my room that way...would that work? Would that be enough? Should I pull a Stargirl and have a dish of marbles or stones or something and transfer them to another dish every time I write?
What will keep me from cheating?
Hm...
Well, it's a thought.

There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.

~Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith