Dead Frog

A few years ago--five to be exact, I used to work for this company near where my parents live (My mother works there now, but she wasn't there when I was) and it was at least two miles from home. I can't remember why I walked home from work that night, but I did.

I got to this 7-11 on the corner of Ewingville and Pennington road and out of the corner of my eye, I see this frog hopping every few seconds, trying to cross the street. And as I'm watching it I'm thinking 'you're going to get run over you stupid frog, you aren't hopping fast enough!'. Cars are zipping by and I'm standing there because I'm both terrified and fascinated by frogs...and death apparently. The poor, stupid animal gets into the middle of the street and it pauses between hops and I'm trying to flag this car down, but it was late and he didn't see me (besides, what was I going to say? "Kermit here is trying to cross the street. Would you mind holding for about forty-five seconds?" I would have though.) and just when it's about to jump, the car runs over it and you here a faint 'squish'. I was...heartbroken. It was the saddest thing ever--at least I thought so at the time.

Lots of sad things happened before that. My grandmother's death, 9/11...things like that. I wasn't there for those things. I was there for the death of a frog just trying to cross the street.

It makes that game Frogger very morbid to me now. I just wish that stupid frog wasn't so stupid and single mindedly determined to get across the street.

Gosh, I can't even remember how long I stood there staring at that spot. Too long for some 'black' girl to be standing on the side of the road in the suburbs no doubt.


Yeah, I don't even know what this post means. Not much to do with writing. Hell, NOTHING to do with writing. I haven't written anything in regards to the book for six days. I know that's sacrilegious--I'm supposed to be talking about the glory of chapter titles or how swell of a time I'm having of editing things. But really...I haven't done anything. I'm not NOT writing--but I needed to get my head back to the place it needed to be...and it's there mostly. But there are so many other things I wanted to get situated so I can devote my whole mind to what I'm doing. I can't write distracted.

Some people would assume that I'm still not completely in love with Halo the way that I was before. But I am. Absense makes the heart grow fonder as they say, right? I'm in love with it in that way where you know you need to spend some time apart before you get sick of one another and find that there's nothing left to say.

So the time I spent away, I thought of a million new things to say and write. But I admit, in the beginning, I used my daughter as an excuse not to write anything. It was wrong of me, but I wasn't sure I wanted that sort of committment me.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you view things, it had me at "Chapter One".

Stewie Griffin

Because he's awesome, that's why!

Lois Griffin: Come on Stewie, don't be afraid. It's just water, it's not gonna bite. Stewie Griffin: Shut up! I know it's not going to bite, stupid! What a stupid thing to say. You drown in it you moron! It doesn't have to bite you!


Meg Griffin: Can I be in the play, Mom?Stewie Griffin: Oh yes, you can be the dumpy teenage girl who cries backstage because no one finds her attractive.


[watching cheerleaders changing in a locker room] It appears my wee-wee's been stricken with rigor-mortis.


Meg Griffin: Everybody! Guess what I am?Stewie Griffin: Hm, the end result of a drunken back-seat grope-fest and a broken prophylactic?

Stewie Griffin: [hitting on some co-eds] I must say, the most recent campus sporting event was quite spectacular.Co-ed: Aw. Are you in a fraternity, little boy?Stewie Griffin: Not yet, but I'm thinking of joining I Felta Thigh.

Lois Griffin: I'm gonna go get some oranges Stewie. Here, hold the rest of these bags for mommy.Stewie Griffin: Oh, what brilliant parenting Lois. Leave a tiny infant with a plastic bag. You know I might asphyxiate myself just to teach you a lesson. Here I go. Just like that boy from INXS…[Stewie tries to put bag over top of his head.] I'm going to do it! [Tries to put bag over left side of his head then climbs into it and tries pulling it over his head.] BLAST! Good Lord Lois, either I was a c-section, or you're Wonder Woman!

Lois Griffin [finding note in Chris's pocket]: Huh, what's this? You know Stewie, Mommy doesn't usually read things out of Chris's pocket. She's more respectful than that.Stewie Griffin: Whatever helps you sleep at night, bitch.

Lois Griffin: Oh, I haven't been on a college campus in years. Everything seems so different.Stewie Griffin: Really? Perhaps if you laid on your back with your ankles behind your ears that would ring a few bells.

Stewie Griffin: Lois! Lois! Lois! Lois! Lois! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Momma! Momma! Momma! Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mommy! Mommy! Momma! Momma! Momma!Lois Griffin: WHAT!?Stewie Griffin: Hi. [runs off giggling]

Oh I feel so delightfully white trash. Mommy, I want a mullet.

Lois Griffin: What's going on down here? Stewie Griffin: Oh, we're playing house. Lois Griffin: That boy's all tied up. Stewie Griffin: Roman Polanski's house.

Free books.

If you're a book nerd like me, that title probably made you just a little happy in the pants. My next sentence will make you angry in the pants.

I am not giving away free books. (However, if I know of any sites or places giving away books I'll be sure to let you all know)

There is this computer lab that I use every so often that has this little back room filled with books. Alot of it is stuff that I'd never read, but sometimes I find little gems like Ernest Hemingway and very recently, Jane Austen. Now I've seen Sense and Sensibility about 345,876,098 times but I've never read the book. I'm reading it right now (and I would have been done, but I'm always sleepy) and it's strange to read it. I expected more dialogue between the characters--though when there is dialogue, it is extremely well written. One thing that I'm annoyed about however, is how the movie cut out some really good lines! In some parts of the book, it is a steady barrage of words--and I'm like 'whew...when are they going to start talking?" But I get it. I get the way that Jane Austen writes...or rather...wrote.


It's like, she's telling the story as if you were sitting there and listening to her tell the story. Like..."Anne walked with Theresa to the store the other day and she was very upset about something, but Anne could not figure it out. After keeping quiet on it for some time, she finally decided to ask her." And you would think that the dialogue would come in. But no...it goes on like "When Anne was told the reason why Theresa was upset, they made plans to travel to Boston. When they arrived, Theresa decided to confront---" you get the picture.

It was...different for me. I'm not used to reading books written like that, but I like how it helps the story move along. I think my sister would like Jane Austen if she were into that sort of writing. I've often heard her complain that she doesn't much care for Dean Koontz because he goes into too much detail (I happen to love him) and doesn't tell enough of the story.

I like being caught up by detail though--if it's well written. I hate reading stuff that is used to fill up space. I think it's kind of insulting. If I buy your book, I want to read a story...not some fluffy prose that means absolutely nothing.


I love how the Theme of Sense and Sensibility doesn't seem apparent, but it's always there--like..it's not obvious. I know so many people are focused on 'Theme' and 'moral' and trying to make sure that they incorporate that into what they are writing. I think if the theme is going to be any good, that you shouldn't even be aware of it until the very end. You shouldn't have to struggle to identify the theme in your own writing.

In 'Halo' I wasn't even aware of 'theme' until I started reading up on it. And it took me all of five seconds to realize what the theme was in my book and you know, it made me feel good that I didn't have to go back and figure out what it was.

I like to tell a story--and I also like dialogue, but I don't want one to over shadow the other which is why I'm constantly going back, re-reading and fixing AND THEN go on to the next part. I confuse easily...more to the point...I confuse myself easily and the only way to keep myself organized with writing is to do things the long way. But it works for me.


So...my bra-strap is burrowing into my skin and I've lost all ability to continue blogging right now. Talk about an abrupt ending.

On May 15th

..I was a bitch.

I can admit it. I was angry, hormonal, not quite over the thing with my sister and I was being a bitch.

I don't have much to say today because the migraines or whatever the hell they are have come back full force x2 and I am going to the ER when I get off of work.

Yesterday, I drove down with my parents, my boyfriend and my daughter to see my grandfather in the nursing home. I was so glad Eric went because he's so anti social, but he's comfortable enough with my parents to let go of that. He even helped my grandfather around in his wheel chair. My mom took a picture of Izzy sleeping on my grandfather which I'll share with you all once I get it uploaded.

But during the ride there, the migraine came back so hard and so violently, that I was reduced to tears in the back of my stepfather's cramped jeep. Israel is squirming and wiggling around like a mad woman, and ceaselessly badgering. My mother is scolding me for not wearing glasses and Eric is chiming in being equally as annoying. I was in pain and I wanted everyone to either shut up or someone to kindly shoot me in my head and end it. Sounds dramatic, but the pain is worse than labor--trust me...I'd know.

It came back about 30 minutes ago and I'm just done with the whole migraine thing. I'm done with it. It makes me nauseated and tired and weak and sore. And if it came when I became pregnant, it'd be one thing, but this has been going on since before that and has gradually gotten worse.

Good news though, I ran into my BEST friend from elementary school today. We've been talking on the phone for a little while...maybe a week. Her aunt works at the place where I got my pregnancy test done and she gave me her number. This morning when I was heading to the bus stop with my daughter, this huge blue SUV skids to a halt in front of me and I was like "wtf?!" and she looks at me and I look at her...and we both start screaming and hugging and looking at eachother and screaming and hugging again. I know people thought we were insane. But seriously, me and her were like sisters since we were ten years old. That's 18 years. So seeing her just made my day. It was one of those signs that let me know that things are going to be alright.

So...now I'm going to try to get some work done. Writing...it's coming along great..but I'm too sore to talk about it.

Oh Henry!

Yeah, Henry Rollins is pretty freaking awesome for alot of different reasons, that picture is just one of them.

So, I was writing, sort of and I was thinking about how ridiculously long it takes for me to finish a chapter of this novel. Mostly, it's because I don't have a home computer and I write from work usually, and then I print out what I write, read it and continue from where I left off and THEN I type the newest stuff into the manuscript. Anyhow, I remember back when I was reading 'On Writing' by Mr. King, he mentioned that Rollins was the sort of author to keep writing the same chapter over and over until he gets it right. It takes ages to finish a book, but when it's done, it needs little to no editing.

And that's exactly what I do...which is why I'm only on chapter three. I keep trying to stop myself from doing it. Like, I'll write and then I'll put it away and not look at it--and then I end up looking at it anyhow because I have absolutely no self control when it comes to things like this. I can't help it. I like to torture myself and I think there is something seriously wrong with me. I'm not a perfectionist in too much of anything in life, but when it comes to writing, I have to get as close to it as possible. I think I'm the sort of person it's going to end up killing in the long run.

The funny part about it is, that for years--hell for most of my life no one has really understood how important writing is to me. Like, if I wasn't writing, I would be completely screwed up right now. Some in my family like to brush it off as a hobby that I happen to be particularly good at, but a hobby all the same. And I've let it poison me a little at times. I wasn't being realistic. Realistic is...praying and struggling to get a job with a place that I'm interning at, even though I don't really want to be there. God, those things are SO not me...and the sooner people stop trying to pin those expectations on me, the less disappointed they'll be with my choice of how I chose to live my life.

Really...this isn't meant to be a downer though. I'm not down...I'm just rigidly resolute right now and fully prepared to tell someone to kiss my ass.

The last few days have been rough and I'm still in a bit of a funk. I'll come out of it eventually--but instead of trying to force cheerfulness I don't feel...I'll go scribble words that don't make sense in a dark corner somewhere.

Henry Rollins is in my head and I can't get him out. That picture of him is how I feel on the inside right now. I'm an angry white man.

I love...

Historical romance.

Yeah. I said it. I love historical romance. It has to be good though. I remember one about this young woman, passably pretty and everything, who recently graduated from some sort of Governess training school. For some reason I cannot at all remember, she decided to pass herself off as this elderly woman--probably so she can be taken seriously as a governess.

Upon meeting her love interest, he finds that he is secretly attracted to this 'hag' and he cannot understand why. She has wrinkles and dry, cracked skin, stringy hair and not to mention a very surly, no nonsense disposition. I was so excited to read this book, turning the page and watching the very unlikely attraction grow between them. The love interest was a bit of a 'rake' (yeah, they use that word alot in regency era romances) and a 'libertine' (another one used quite a bit) and he tried to use his charms to make this 'old' woman like him. At the same time, he couldn't figure out why he wanted her to like him.

He finally found out that she was actually young and pretty hot when it rained and some her 'face' started to peel off. By this time, he is desperately attracted to her and he thinks there is something wrong with him for wanting this 'old' woman the way that he does.

I haven't read this book in YEARS but it's one that stands out in my mind. I have read some seriously crappy 'bodice ripping' 'throbbing manhood' type stuff too...but I can't get enough of it, I don't know why.

At one point, I seriously considered writing historical romance. I even found a few African American Historical Romances fairly recently, and it blew my mind away. But historical romances and even contemporary onces follow a very strict formula that if you stray away from it too much, it couldn't be considered 'romance'.

The novel I'm writing now, while there is a 'romance' going on between two characters, Charlie(yeah, it's a girl) and Lucas--because of Charlie's mother's shadey past, they find out that they may actually be brother and sister, which obviously...isn't really sexy at all. *laughing*

I like to create unconventional conflict and yeah, I kind of do like shocking people and wrenching out emotions and as much as I absolutely ADORE historical romance...that's never happened to me. I've laughed and really rooted for the characters and have been excited to curl up with a really good HR when I got home...I've never read anything that moved me to that point.


But I love it, and I don't think I'll ever get enough of it.

The other day...

Yesterday...or was it the day before? I can't even remember...but it was a horrible day in the way that it just sits with you, preventing you from doing anything but sitting there staring off into space.

I got into this really bad argument with my sister. Not going to go into details into what it entailed, but needless to say, it's weighing heavy on my mind. I know it's going to be one of those things that are going to prevent us from talking for a few weeks. Thinking about it right now hurts because I don't want to think about it...because I remember how unbelievable close we used to be...because I had to be the one to tell her that I needed to step away from her for a while.

I sat at the computer yesterday, staring at Chapter 3 and I only wrote a few lines, unable to concentrate, and then I closed it out. I found myself becoming angry with life...angry at myself...angry because it seems like every step forward I take, someone makes sure to try and knock me back, just to remind me that...'You're Alicia. You're a push over and silly and too nice and you have too many dreams that are stupid...and you're getting way too ahead of yourself right now...so let me say something to shatter you for a while."

And it works. It always does and I hate myself a little for it. It's not as bad as it used to be. Give it about four days and I'll shake it off. And that feeling will be replaced by this need to make sure that my daughter, and the baby in my belly will never be made to feel the way I have been. I don't want them to grow up seeing anyone treat their mama like she's second class--especially people who claim to 'look out for her best interests.'


I know this blog is about my writing and my pursuit of the dream we all have, and maybe no one wants to read this junk...but it's a part of it. Every day isn't some glorious new discovery. Some days just plain old suck. I am very aware that this may be my hormones getting the best of me, I'm aware that while I'm happy about this pregnancy, that I'm scared to death, Eric tries to help me not worry or stress, or let people's words get the best of me...and let me know that he loves me, but some days, it just doesn't matter.

This morning before I left for the day, I was really withdrawn and he tried to make me laugh. He told me he liked making me laugh...and I wanted to, but I couldn't. I was too caught up by my sister's words...too caught up by the fact that her approval means ALOT to me.

It's stupid. Ridiculous. Silly. Dumb. Four adjectives that seriously describe me to a 'T' sometimes.



So I'm venting. And saying this stuff is like getting rid of one of those headaches I constantly have. Sometimes the pressure in my head hurts so badly that I have to sit on the edge of the toilet or the tub, and feel the pressure fade into nothing. So saying this, knowing that people read it and knowing that I probably made a complete ass of myself in front of all you people...actually makes me feel alot better.

I love my family very much. They are the most important things in my life...but I'm pretty important to me too...and sometimes it's okay to step away for a while.


So I'll pick up the pen today, and I'll start writing and I'll try to forget about this. I'll just write because some days, aside from breathing, it's all I know how to do.

I want muh pie!

Mother's day was absolutely terrific. My parents went out of town for the weekend, so I went to my ex's mother's house (it sounds weird, but she and I are really close, and she's my daughter's grandmother, so it isn't that weird) and we ate and laughed and watched movies. We really had a houseful. There was Eric, the baby, myself, my girl Chaney and her boyfriend Zane and Tammy (the grandmother) and her friend Darrel. We really had a ball and I ate so much that I'm STILL full.

The only downside is that the headaches are coming back and Eric is asking me every five minutes if I'm alright. And I promised him that I would go to the doctor's again today, but they aren't going to do anything because I'm pregnant and I really don't want to waste my time.


Sitting here right now, I can't believe I've been someone's mother for almost 18 months. Sometimes I look at Israel and I'm like "I kept my kid alive for a year and a half, I must be doing something right." I can't believe that 18 months ago I had a little tiny, wrinkly baby girl that didn't cry much but loved to kick. I can't believe that, that tiny 6 lb baby now constantly yells, "A-mommee, I wahn muh PIE!" (come to find out that Tammy promised her pie, so she's been saying "pie" at random intervals)

I was walking up and down the hallway last evening to walk the headaches away and Izzy came with me, and she's so unbelievably tiny and adorable. I'm watching her toddle in front of me and looking behind her every so often to make sure I was there. Sometimes I'd hide behind the wall and jump out at her and she'd crack up every time even though she knew I was there.

With this pregnancy, I found myself wondering if I can possibly love another child as much as I love Izzy. I know it seems like a silly question and automatically you want to say 'of course you will'...but it's hard to believe because I love Izzy...beyond description.

In other news, I really didn't write that much this weekend, but I did finish the next chapter, so I gave myself a few days break. If I write with no pause in between, my stuff sounds contrived and false. I need to get myself inspired, and once I do...everything comes naturally. It was how I came up with the Great Idea for the plot. I am still pretty pleased with myself...I know that it'll be pretty controversial...but I think I angled it in such a way that people will be able to relate to.

Anyhow, I don't much want to talk about writing right now.

But I would like some pie.

Baked Squirrel

So I actually found a picture of a skinned squirrel in a frying pan, but there was no way I was posting it.



Anyhow, I was sitting on the bus the other with my daughter to take her to her sitter's. This guy gets in and sits in the seat behind me and starts talking about snapper turtle soup, eating raccoon and eating squirrel. Five weeks ago, I could have listened to this without wanting to vomit, today I actually had to turn around and explain to him, 'look, I'm pregnant and you're really about to induce some very unsexy morning sickness'. He laughed and apologized. It was the 'baked squirrel' that got me. He said you could see the little eyes and-- you know what, I'm going to stop. Apparently, I get off on torturing myself.



I honestly haven't written in about two days. The whole pregnancy thing kind of jumped on me and my boyfriend out of no where and we're still getting our bearings together. He's excited and I'm just like "Oh crap, my ankles are going to swell again and I'm going to be pregnant once again, during the freaking summer!"

But I'm ready to start up again. I came up with this utterly fricken BRILLIANT plot for the story. I was struggling with it a little...not too much, but I didn't want to go in circles about what I was trying to convey, and then the idea snuck up on me. My daughter is staying with her Auntie for the weekend, so it's just me and Eric and my writing.

My goal now, is to have this manuscript done by the end of the summer, possibly sooner, because pretty soon it's going to be a bitch for me to get on the bus everyday and go all the way out to Ewing to this computer lab and write, especially with a toddler, so I want to finish as much as I can now.

In other news, I was thinking about my brother alot lately. He's four years younger than me and his name is Kenny. He's a big, gentle, quiet teddy bear and I miss him terribly. He stays not too far from me in a rooming house and a friend of mine knows him and he was telling me how quiet my brother is and how he keeps to himself mostly. He was pretty sick with sleep apnea and diabetes and his heart actually stopped at one point a few months ago.

I really need to see him and let him know that his family still loves him and that I'm thinking about him. Maybe I can coerce him to come stay the weekend with me.

My mind is all over the place this morning--I'll try to write something that makes more sense later.

Wow

I'm writing this from a cell phone, so excuse the errors in advance. I finally found the mysterious source of my headaches...Apparently i'm 5 weeks pregnant. I had a hunch but it was still a huge surprise. Eric, needless to say, is thrilled. I don't think it has hit me yet. I knew i was hungrier than usual... Any how, i'm dead tired and this phone is making my eyes hurt. I'll write more tomorrow folks.

Case of the Mondays

I'm not really feeling much like blogging today. I have a serious case of the Mondays, coupled with nausea that has me freaking out right now for obvious reasons.

So today, there's nothing to say. It's raining, my stomach is cramping, I'm a few days late and this office is always inexplicably cold!

And...I didn't write more than maybe five sentences this weekend. I usually get a 'mommy' day to myself, which I didn't get, and i had to take care of another toddler this weekend along with my own 18 month old and they were relentless. I realized that Izzy really doesn't like to share and it's something I'm going to have to break her out of--and she's kind of a bully. She shoved a three year old boy into a wall, and she herself weighs only about 24lbs--so she spent like 20 minutes in time out--not that it made much of a difference. But by the time his mom came and got him and by the time I was able to put her to bed, I was beat.

I don't think I've recovered yet.

I'm feeling very...bleh today. I want to lay down and hide under the covers for the rest of the day.