Madness!!!

Well, it seems as though writing for a blog that actually has demands on me has been very good on my work ethic.  Because answering to myself has always gone something like this:

"You know, you *should* be doing (insert task such as writing, cleaning, saving the world here)"


"Screw you, you know-it-all bitch!  You don't own me!"

or something like that.

So it is with pride and awe that I write yet ANOTHER blog post, dear readers.  Of my own volition!  In a timely manner!  WHAT IS THIS MADNESS??

This may also be related to a recent phenomenon I've observed.  It's called "getting shit done".  I don't know where I picked up this nasty habit, but everywhere I look, I seem to be ACCOMPLISHING THINGS like and adult or something.  I'm amused and a little nervous.  Who is this responsible woman, and what have you done with the slacker that we all know and love?  Have I truly gone - STEPFORD?

After a quick look around, I realize there are still some dishes in the sink.  I think we're safe.  Also, I've been TERRIBLY lax in my NaNoWriMo writing, and November is rapidly winding away.  In my defense, I've started a new jobby job, and have been writing for Adventures in Poor Taste, and otherwise occupying myself studiously in such exciting tasks as Organizing the Bills and Planning My Future.  So I'll cut myself a little slack here.

With winter fast approaching (fuck, it's cold this morning) I am just waiting for the shit to hit the fan, and for the familiar doesnotcomputegoway hibernation to begin.  But I have a sneaking suspicion that with everything going on, I won't have time for such frivolity.  Getting shit done > any anti-depressant out there, truly.

So!  A new, exciting chapter for your plucky heroine!?

Stay tuned...

Breaking up is hard to do

As you may know, I've started writing for an awesome geek blog, Adventures in Poor Taste! - a fabulous collection of "cynical manchild" ramblings on geek and pop culture.  And I fit right in!  What am I if not a cynical manchild trapped in a woman's body?

This week, my article is a heartfelt "Dear John" to the folks over at SquareEnix.  Nothing personal, but after having my heart broken, I think its time to move on.  Bethesda, be still my beating heart - let Skyrim fill the void Final Fantasy XIII left!

Stay tuned for more domestic ramblings.  I've got something interesting to say on that front, I just know it.

Adventures In Poor Taste

No, No - I haven't finally titled my memoir.

I'm writing for a geek-tastic blog!

Don't be sad, my lovely readers.  This isn't the end.  I still want to be friends.  Its not you, its me...

Hehe.

Go to their site, and check out all the geeky goodness, and stay tuned for more updates.

For now, here's my first contribution.

Why I Can't Wait For the Zombieapocalypse

Purging Is Good For The Soul

Looking out my windows this morning, there is no question that the crisp sunny blue skied days of Autumn are over, and the gray, oppressive season has begun.

I really didn't need the windows to tell me so.  I can feel the shift in the marrow of my soul.

Now that Halloween is over, the next few months are an endless struggle to overcome my utter distaste for Winter.  My first challenge, is of course, the Hellidays.  Rapidly approaching, I cringe at every Christmas themed commercial on TV.  Its barely November, for fuck's sake!

Around this time every year, I start to retreat into a little ball of insanity.

NOT THIS YEAR, DAMMIT.

Your plucky heroine has a secret weapon.  PRODUCTIVITY!

The past two days have been spent purging, reorganizing, and nesting.  Putting books on shelves, throwing away old papers, moving furniture.  Also, getting prettttty tipsy on a bottle o' wine.  Unfortunately, the liquor store my darling husband shops at *clearly* has a problem with their stock.  Someone's been poking holes in the bottom of the wine bottles.  This, my friends, is a travesty.

All in all, I feel much less frightened of the cold dark Winter that approaches.  We'll see how well I fare as time rolls on.  But for now, I'm going to sip my coffee, enjoy my mostly clean house, and work on my novel.

Blue skies be damned.

A Kick in the Pants

Yes, yes, dear friends.  I've abandoned you once again.  I'll gladly take my flogging later.

For now, though, some exciting news!

If you haven't heard of it, November happens to be "National Novel Writing Month" - and I've been working on a doozy of an idea.  As with most things in the world of your plucky heroine, nothing keeps my attention for very long, but this opportunity is PERFECT.  Upon signing up, I discovered a whole world of forums for support and information.  Hallelujah!  Like minded individuals with a common goal!

Swing on over to NaNoWriMo to check it out.

In other news, not much has changed on the Anti-Stepford front.  None of the beds are made today (though sometimes they are, score for me!) and there are dishes in the sink, begging for my attention.  But what's new?  I *am* excited to report that the Youngling has started preschool, thus freeing up some much needed productive time!

How have I spent it, you ask?  Why kicking ass in Words With Friends, of course!  Nothing says accomplishment like pure old-fashioned procrastination!

But I digress.

November is rapidly approaching, and I plan on going full throttle until this beast of a novel is done.  In the meantime, expect updates sporadically on my progress.  I won't make any promises, but I have a damned good feeling about this.  No Whammies!  No Whammies!

Escaping Reality

Let's face it folks. I'm an escapist. I always have been, and always will be. I love fantasy and science fiction and video games and comics and every other facet of imagination. Because really, without these things, I find reality pretty stifling.

Ranking highest among my vices (yes, even above Whiskey and Caffeine) is reading. I am an avid reader - a good book to me is as addictive as crack. I just cant. put. it. down. I'll go in fits and spurts, but usually a new undertaking is a vast series of books that envelop much of my time. As it so happens, two series have ensnared me this week alone.

First: The Hunger Games. I've heard all sorts of buzz about this series of novels, set in a post-apocalyptic world, chronicling a young girls struggle with a totalitarian society and a brutal fight to the death. Yeah, up my alley much? And for all the buzz I've heard, I have to say that I wasn't disappointed. I devoured the first two books in as many days, and am oh-so-patiently ::eyeroll:: awaiting the chance to get my hands on the third.

Second: A Song of Ice and Fire. Propelled by the HBO series that was ohmygawdgood, I decided to delve into these massive novels. Not only am I enthralled, but I'm even more impressed with the series, for portraying the novel so far scene by scene, and doing incredible justice to George R.R. Martin's impressive work. I almost don't want to read past this first book, because the series was so edge--of-your-seat awesome.

Oh sweet escape, how I love thee. I may be still struggling, the house sure needs cleaning, but I'm a happy gal.

alrighty, dear reader, I'm getting that "must read now" itch. I'm such a junkie.

Atta Girl

perusing the internets is fun.

Mawwiage

Its occurred to me that this whole aging process is an insidious thing. I've blinked and suddenly everyone I know and love is married or pregnant or parenting or somewhere in between, your plucky heroine included.

I'm fully conscious of the ticking of the clock in many respects. I feel every moment of my 31 years on most days, and can even rectify the shift from young woman to adulthood. My child dresses himself, and gets annoyed with me on occasion (though not nearly as much as I am annoyed with him), and I am for the most part OK with the lines on my face. But then the tides shift, and life events bring into sharp focus both time and distance, from not just who you once were, but what your world once was and meant.

Tonight, I'm excited. Mr. Anti-Stepford and I are looking forward to an uproarious evening of homemade meatballs, a bottle of Moscato, and (finally!) SuckerPunch. Once upon a time, this wouldn't have elicited such a strong positive response from me. *Yawn* - a Friday night IN? My galloping pulse yearned for revelry to match it. But I'm genuinely pleased and looking forward to our quiet night in. Besides, the recliner is so comfy, why muss a good thing?

Perhaps its this second glass of wine, but more likely its the good news of one of my high school best friend's nuptials this afternoon, and tomorrow's most excellent wedding of my dear friend and partner in crime. Oh the wasted nights spent getting wasted at our favorite watering holes! Through good times and bad, she has long been my cheerleader, and the best darned hug giver ever. I don't think of myself as a girly girl, or incredibly mushy, but I know damned well that I need to invest in some quality waterproof mascara before she walks down the aisle tomorrow. Just because I chase my whiskey with beer doesn't mean I am incapable of human feminine emotion. Laugh, and I'll punch you.

Oh the shifting of things. Hubby is parading his cooking prowess around the house, and I'm laughing as I type. "Star Wars: A New Hope" is on TV while we finish dinnering, and rather than get maudlin about the time passed or how the people I love are aging and changing, I look forward to tomorrow's festivities eagerly.

Brianne and Jon, Katherine and Aaron, I wish you the happiness and comfort of inside jokes, homemade meals made with whiskey and love, and a hot hot date night in. I wish you joy and tears and time and tide, and resounding love every day.

::raises third glass with a mostly steady hand::
to you, my friends.

Strangeness & Charm

Birthdays are fun. Even the ones that happen after you've reached the major-fun milestones. Last Wednesday night, on the eve of my 31st, there was much (much) whiskey to be had, and some utter silliness with markers and skin-canvas. My original plan of rocking out to some much needed karaoke with my friends was foiled by an unexpected IRS seizure of my favorite bar. (Oddly, these things seem to be just par for the course around here. The universe mocks me). So the night home far exceeded my expectations, as did my body's absorption of Gentleman Jack. I awoke on my day of birth still slightly drunk, but very happy. So it completely blew me away when Mr. Anti-Stepford dropped a birthday bomb on me: I was going to Boston that night to see one of my favorite bands, Florence + The Machine, with one of my favorite people.

Now, I'm eclectic to say the least. But the common thread of the music that I listen to and enjoy is that I *emote* to it. Good, bad or indifferent, it tugs at my heart strings and gut in a fundamental way, and Florence and her Machine are no different. The woman is ethereal and fierce, with a powerful voice and sense of atmosphere. Her lyrics are intelligent and metaphorical, and even her "love" songs are dark and dreamy in all of the right ways. Want chills up your spine? Go listen to "Heavy In Your Arms" or "Blinding". No really, go ahead, I'll wait.



see? what did I tell you?

Suffice it to say that I near to died of excitement (or the raging whiskey induced hangover I now had. Or a combination of both) and the show was amazing. I highly recommend the Pavilion in Boston - its a great intimate venue.

The night was liberating, invigorating, and thought provoking. While I'm still struggling with the highs and lows of depression, I have hope that this summer will resolve itself into a more concrete state, one that I'm familiar and comfortable with, that still challenges me, yet doesn't defeat me. The next big milestone will be getting my mobility back, which will change so much in my world right now. Its only 19 days away, but who's counting? I daydream of driving down a sun-dappled winding road, wind in my hair, iPod blaring. This will be one of the first songs I play:

It's a long hard road outta hell...

Where did a year go?

I'd love to say I was living the fabulous life, full of escapades and poignancy (which, in retrospect, I was to some degree) - but the majority of the past year has been spent in a dark pit of despair called DEPRESSION.

Admitting this is a double edged sword. It is a huge burden off of my shoulders to realize that I'm not insane, something is *indeed* wrong with me, and I am a little crazy. Wait, what? You get my point. First step to conquering a problem is admitting you have one. And admitting it means conceding that I have weakness, and need help from those I love to triumph over this hard time. The stigma alone gives me anxiety, which I have plenty enough of. No, surely not the queen of beer and laughter? Not the girl with the infectious laughter and quick wit? Yeah her. And it realizing that I am all of these things, I realize that the people most important to me don't give a flying shit if I'm having a crazy day, a morose day, or a spasdically happy day. They love me anyway. Screw my perfectionism. My flaws are what make me me. And flawed I shall be.

So that being said, your plucky friend, The Anti-Stepford (cue hero music) is returning for another valiant go at this here mess of a blog. I hope you're still interested - I've certainly got a metric shit-ton to say.

Now the year certainly wasn't all doom and gloom, all the time. Jane Siberry's "It Won't Rain All The Time" wasn't on repeat (okay, maybe the occasional shuffle) and there were some definite amazing times to be had. I got to sing with one of my best friends in her band, returned to work (left/returned/left... that's another story), laughed and loved with my husband, and created art and writing as well as gamed and drank whiskey. (Gentleman Jack and I are on the outs right now, as it were. Cheeky bastard) I even miraculously managed to make some new (INCREDIBLE) friends! AoA, you have been a lifesaver.

Mainly, I was lucky enough to watch the Youngling grow from a toddler to a full-fledged little boy. Lanky arms and legs and infectious laugh, any trace of the baby he once was is gone. My uterus weeps. (Fucking Uterus!)

But there were also some pretty dark points, some lows that its been tough to rise past. And I realize that while I enjoy writing, and being the quirky narrator of my happy little shit-show for you all, I have failed you. Yes, dear readers, I grovel for forgiveness - because I lacked the one thing I needed most. Honesty.

A plasticene smile and iron resolve that everything is OK FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK! walled me away from my genuine emotions, and made it damned near impossible to effectively communicate - weather in the real world or the fabulous interwebz. So my resolve is remedy that.

Now before you get yer knickers in a twist, please know that I have no intention of changing my life or how I share it with you in any monumental way. Trust me if this blog gets Emo, I want one of y'all to be the first to slap me. But there can be no honesty without sharing both the highs and lows of this crazy journey that is my life.

Will I post daily? HA! Probably not. But I'd still like to keep my SuperNerdSaturday tradition, and keep a better track record than a year between posts. And occasionally, if I falter, as I do - feel free to shoot me line or gentle bitch-slap. I could use it, to keep on the straight and narrow. Er, well, at least some semblance of direction.

-----------------------
-Listening to: Explosions In The Sky - Glittering Blackness via FoxyTunes