Caterwauling

And tunage buried within, too!

Reader Poll Monday:

1. What is the last movie you saw in a theater?
I’d wanted to see “Rent” this weekend, but I had so many friggin’ errands, it wasn’t possible. I last saw “Prime” but I’d never recommend it.

I keep meaning to check out the Arlington Cinema ‘n Drafthouse — ingenious concept.

2. What is your all-time favorite book?
Pat Conroy, “The Prince of Tides.” Love the movie eqally.

3. Do you own any sex toys?
BWAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA.

Um, yeah.

I was in the “toy business” for awhile, which — if this isn’t irony for you — ended abruptly when I was kicked out due to “inactivity.” LOL

So yeah, got me a suitcase full. But I have my favorite, and he is dying from abuse.

4. Gambling: bad habit or entertainment?
I gamble every day that I drive on the highways with insane D.C. drivers. But you mean like the casino/chips/slots? For me, I’d say bad habit — I’d MUCH rather go into a mall and “gamble” with that money — at least I’d be sure to take something home!

Said she who’s Vegas-bound later this month with only $20 in her pocket.

5. What is your favorite Christmas song?
The Pretenders, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”

6. Christmas tree: real, artificial or none at all?
This year, none — I’m away too much and I have kittehs who like to chew on shit and rip shit down. I have an artificial tree — a spiral one — in the basement. But nothing beats the scent of blue spruce — well, only if you’re in the mood to vacuum every day. Which I’m so totally NOT.

7. When is the last time you went on a date?
November.

8. Have you ever stolen anything from a hotel?
I usually bring all my own products to a hotel — never know what you’re going to count on needing that they don’t provide. But I stayed at a Hyatt not too long ago that offered shoe-polishing cloths. Those are exactly what I use to clean my sterling silver jewelry, so consider that thing pocketed!

9. How many hours do you typically spend in front of a computer each day?
14ish

10. Ask me something.
When’s payday?

I just found cute little party shoes this weekend (after two solid days of running around looking for party-wear, a sport at which I unfortunately failed miserably), and we’re expected to have four inches of snow on the ground by tomorrow morning. Tomorrow and Wednesday bringing the first soirees of the season.

My hatred of cold weather and precipitation is overwhelming. Because it’s ugly-shoe weather. That, and freezing-my-ass-off weather, as I am allergic to wool and thus do not own a proper winter coat.

*flips off Mother Nature*

Because I wasn’t moved enough to tears in the sixth concentric circle of hell at Costco today, I watched “Under the Tuscan Sun.” God, that damn movie gets me every time. Because that should be my life.

In any event, I had to squee because Sandra Oh and Kate Walsh are lovers in this one — I totally forgot about that, and the squee was because those two are on my favorite show (“Grey’s Anatomy”), not to mention Kate also made an appearance on my beloved “ER.”

Do you “Grey’s” fans not simply love her as Addison Shepherd? I think I totally have a girl-crush on her. 😉 Ah, hell, a regular crush. She’s totally cracked my top 10 fantasy-inducers.

Anyway, the scene in the movie that gets me? When Sandra Oh has the baby and names her Alexandra. And Diane Lane says the line about how the Italian words for “giving birth” means to “give the child to the light.” And she opens the windows and shows Alexandra a gorgeous Tuscan sky. Then they take her out of the hospital with a little Elmo doll.

Reminds me of when (my friend’s little girl) Alexandria was born, and she’s such an Elmo addict. And all the ladybugs in the movie — I’ve always called Alex my little ladybug. And one night, when Shan and I were putting Alex down to sleep, a ladybug popped up on the screen door as we watched D.C.’s fireworks on a Fourth of July night.

Seriously — life imitates art in these parts. And once in a teeny, tiny while, it gets even better than that. I think, too often in Internet land, those small, significant moments go unblogged. But they never go unforgotten. …

Subtitle: Does Christmas cheer exist outside of the bottom of a glass?

I am sitting here, toying around with Expedia.com, only to look at potential layovers for flights I need to book and realize I have, throughout my life, changed planes in dozens of (possibly exciting) cities that I’ve never had the opportunity to actually visit.

Always on my way to somewhere else, I guess. Seems a sad metaphor for the rest of my life, too. The worst part is that there’s rarely a moment for fun when I actually do reach my destination city.

SOMEWHERE … UNDER THE RADAR

I swear, if I had money, I’d be a professional traveler. There’s nothing quite like that rush I get when a plane begins its ascent, unless you count the moment that plane lands and you know you’re stepping into a whole new world (to you). That, and I’d so totally hire a maid. Preferably, as Ted suggested, a Chippendales masseuse with a cleaning fetish!

This boring life cycle in which we all get caught — work hard, get paid, pay bills, run errands, wear clothes, wash clothes, work some more, clean house, buy more (so not-fun) crap you need, lather/rinse/repeat — it’s hard to schedule joy in your life when you’re constantly waving goodbye to your time and to your earnings.

IN WHICH TRADITION HAS ALWAYS BEEN TO, WELL, BUCK TRADITION

Like Christmas. I fucking hate this season. I stopped at Tyson’s Corner yesterday to get tomato soap at Bath and Body Works (which they no longer carry, and that was the only B&BW in the region that DID carry it. Gah). And as I walked into Hecht’s, some lady stopped me and said sweetly, “Honey, you sure you want to go into that madhouse?” If that weren’t an omen for my day, I don’t know what was.

Turns out the only highlight to yesterday was talking (live and in person! on the telephone! what a concept!) to my buddy on the death-defying drive to (and the adventures in parking without getting killed at) the mall, as everything went downhill from there. I’d hoped to run into Liv, but the universe can only spare so much Christmas cheer per capita, I guess. 😉

I don’t do holiday shopping. Haven’t in ages, really. I’ve gotten numb to the twinge when I see families stocking up their trunks with loads of crap, when I’m happy to be walking out of Wal-Mart with the month’s supply of necessities and still have enough money left over to grab a taco. Instead, I people-watch — that’s the greatest gift of all.

‘BOTOX BEFORE BARNEY’

Yesterday must’ve been “dad’s day out,” because in addition to 40 dozen instances of Steelers garb (and not a single instance of the DeadRedskins), there were lots of dazed-and-confused men crawling the mall. Whee. 😉

You can tell when it’s dad’s day. I saw this poor little girl with her long hair caught up in two clips and four different ponytail holders. I saw others with half-assed braids or ones that were so tight that the kids looked like they’d had Botox before “Barney” that morning.

I overheard the funniest conversation at Wallyworld yesterday:

Mom: “Do you know what I want for Christmas? (said to dad who was literally lying on the floor in the decorations aisle and to the kid who sat next to him)

Little Girl: “Flowers?” (she couldn’t have been more than 7)

Mom: “No, I don’t want flowers.”

Little Girl: “Well, that’s probably what daddy will get you again for Christmas.”

*bwahahaha*

Priceless!

When you were younger, did you have a pact with certain friends that, if y’all were still single by whatever the age (back when 30 and 40 used to seem SOOOOOO old), you’d get married?

Seriously, I have eight and a half years to find somebody good, lest I have to honor any one of those promises. *shudder* What was I thinking back then?!?! 😉

You can always tell when it’s payday week ’round here because I can give up foraging the hacienda for cockroaches to toast and I actually order food. The other night, I ordered pizza. Last night, I stopped at my favorite Chinese place, only to recognize the guy behind me as the guy who’d delivered my pie (he was wearing an item with his company logo, so I was sure). Wonder if I’ll see him wherever I plan to stop for dinner tonight!

I tried to do some window-shopping last night — I need some festive gear for holiday soirees, and of course I need shoes that do not amount to sandals and such that I still wear to run the halls at work (I don’t wear uncomfortable crap to drive — yay Reeboks).

In any event, no matter which store I went into, I was itchy. Gah. ‘Tis the season for wool clothing to be on every freaking rack. And I curse any asshole who decides to randomly shove a wool sweater on a rack with acrylic sweaters — because then I touch it and get to walk around like I’ve got something stuck up my butt because I can’t outright scratch myself in public. Wool, angora, whatever — makes me burst into hives. Hooray.

No wonder it’s the cyber-shopping season — people like me apparently can’t leave the house till all the winter clearance is gone from the shelves. *softly weeping*

I wasn’t expecting fireworks and confetti or anything like that, but standing here, sleep-deprived and spent, I want to somehow celebrate — you guessed it — this:

The story isn’t over, of course, but it is a good time to take a break. I need to dream up something rather dastardly, and believe it or not, that simply isn’t my nature. I get good and mad in life, don’t get me wrong. Rev me up and watch my head spin. But honestly? I’m more apathetic than anything.

A REAL FIRST — AND HOPEFULLY NOT THE LAST FIRST

I mean, I just don’t finish things I start. EVER. One thing I miss about being in upper management (and perhaps it’s the only thing) is the possibility of having a really good staff who would listen to my visions and execute my ideas with whatever methodology worked best for them. Because left to my own devices, all those ideas got trapped in my head when something more shiny caught my eye.

So, that I wrote 115 pages, well, damn. Go, me. But what scares me? That I will leave my poor characters suspended in their drama — that I will look at the book next October and go, enh. Didn’t get to finish it. Oh well. Too bad, so sad.

I was kind of thinking about how to do something evil to my beloved characters when I realized that I walk away from everything. Not intentionally, but when I’m done with something, I’m really done. I don’t mean to be that way — but when I give up, there’s no going back.

POWER FAILURES, GENERATORS

I was asking my mom the other day why I seem to put off so many people (we were talking about particular people). She reminded me that I was put off by THEM in the first place, so of course they weren’t going to find me lovable. Heh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.

She also revealed that I intimidate the shit out of practically everyone I meet. Mild little me? Was she for real? She said few people know who they are and can articulate it at every turn, and that makes some people quake in the presence of that trait.

I don’t know. I don’t know that I’m all that strong or smart or even ambitious anymore. I just feel like I’ve lost chunks of my life and, thus, pieces of my identity — and “completing” (as it were) my novel gave me back the power I’d lost

TO START ANEW OR TO CONTINUE, THAT IS THE QUESTION

I realize that, in never finishing things I start, I’ve walked away from numerous arguments and situations — ranging from the volatile to the downright frustrating or just BORING — because that’s my nature. Things in my past are dead to me. Sure, I reflect here and there, but it’s mostly to examine what happened so I can learn a lesson and REALLY nail the coffin to the past.

One lesson I’ve picked up is that my impatience is overpowering. I want immediate results or I don’t want to play the game. Or maybe I can wait for awhile but then I become a pressure cooker of sorts.

So the neat thing about NaNoWriMo was that I was the only one who could make myself win. I had to organize my time to allow for two extended periods away from the computer. I was the one who had to budget whether an extra hour of sleep or that extra thousand words would make me feel more alive.

The latter always won.

And thus, so did I.

So, I’m not so sure I made an actual point with this entry. Maybe all I was looking to do was see it in black-and-white that I set my mind to kick ass, and I did. And that I need to keep up the momentum by kicking my OWN ass because the pressure of the deadline is gone.

I don’t work well without deadlines and certainly not with arbitrary ones. For as free-spirited as I am, there’s a part of me that craves structure. I am a taskmaster when I want to be, but if no one’s holding me accountable, well, the free spirit reigns supreme.

Maybe I’m afraid of committing to anything (or, let’s face it, anyone) because I’m so afraid I’m going to lose that spirit. But maybe what I hadn’t considered all these years is that, the more familiar I am with someone/something, the more creative I can become in keeping things interesting.

Which is why I’ve opted to write a book series for NaNoWriMo every year as opposed to new, wacky and wild storylines. Because I know these characters so well that it actually DOES hurt me to hurt them. But that’s what makes me fix up their boo-boos after I’ve finished annhilating their lives.

And maybe, to bring this full circle, that’s what I need to do with me. Be patient, gather my strength and rock socks in any way I can. Even if it’s a series of quiet victories rather than the huge splash I’d rather be making.

Someday, I’ll get my fireworks. And maybe I’ll be able to relax and watch them sparkle and shine. Maybe someday, others will be watching me do the exact same thing.

For National Novel Writing Month, here was my progress at 12 a.m. on the nose:

50,033 / 50,000 (100.1%)

The last snapshot of my profile:

The book is far from done — I’ve only met the minimum word count by THEIR standards. I have yet to even come close to hitting the bar I set for my own standards.

Oh well. I’m happy. And that’s all that matters in this scenario.