Why isn't 'Batgirl' a valid career choice?

We have the best conversations on the stairs.  They only get better when he leaves.  But he always comes back.  That's not my fault, you know.  And if the smile you have around him and the smile you have around me aren't the same I'm not surprised.  It's not supposed to be the same smile, anyway.  I'm never the one who treats you like that.

And you know the truth and I can see it when we talk and hell, you told me last time I'd had too much to drink.  But we were on the stairs and he just doesn't THINK sometimes, or maybe he does think.  He just thinks so much more of himself than I think of him.  He's a loser. 

I'm just a poet who can't find the words.  If there are any words to be found to make it all make sense.

It doesn't make any sense, but I think I understand.  I'm going to wait until someone takes the bottle away again.

...I liked it better when I didn't understand.

Maybe by sunrise I'll be able to convince myself I don't.

That will make it all easier.

I only have myself to blame.

...that I no longer live in a world where I have to be ashamed to be a strong woman.  Where I no longer have to apologize for recognizing I have a sexuality and a libido.  Where I don't have to feel guilty for enjoying sex.

But I still live in a world where a woman owning a vibrator is funny.  Because, see, she doesn't nessecarily NEED a man to experience sexual gratification.  And how could we ever survive in a world where women were in control of their sexuality?  A woman with a vibrator is funny.  Because sex is dirty.  Dirty and evil.

I urge you all to enjoy getting off, be you male or female.  Because sometimes it should all be about sensation.  And sensation and shame shouldn't be the same.

...I've been posting excerpts from my NaNoWriMo project over at my "writing blog."  If you're interested, head on over and check it out.

Why don't I host my writing here?  Because this is where I whine, dammit.

I'm thankful my mother and I no longer hate each other and that she's being so helpful about getting me set up in my own apartment next spring, since I won't be able to afford to handle that by myself.  I'm thankful that my mother has finally realized she's got to let my brother do his own thing, rather than rant at him about how he has to fulfil some mental checklist she has prepared for him.  She's not happy about it, but she's ready to accept that he doesn't want to go to college and that no amount of bitching at him or (and I fucking HATED this part) comparing him to me is going to change that.  Besides, the only thing college gave me was a complex about my writing and a shitty engagement.

I'm thankful (or at least hopeful) that I'm not as judgemental as the rest of her side of the family.  Between her homophobic and borderline racist mother, and my mother's own rants (including one I had to sit though about what a good friend of mine wore to her college graduation...because said friend showed up in a fucking awesome punked out pink dress and high heeled tennis shoes rather than a suit or something else "appropriate."  My mother will NEVER understand the sort of people I hang out with) I sometimes want to scream.  My father isn't really much better, I swear he never used that many racial slurs around me when he still lived with my mom.  I love my family, I just love them better when we're on my "turf" so to speak, out in the 'burgh.  Johnstown makes my head hurt.

I'm strangely thankful that food poisoning has spared me a night in a smokey bar.

I'm thankful that I can still write.  I'm thankful that the words come easier now.  I'm thankful the voices have stopped but at the same time I want them back because then I'm not quite so lonely.  Even if it's a lie, it means I'm not alone when I'm with myself.

Back home tomorrow.  Back to a more familiar place.  I used to be worried about who I was, suddenly I'm more concerned with where I am.  I don't get it.  Maybe I never will.

I sit here pondering this while watching an animated Tony Hawk.  My life is never linear.

My head is pounding and I'm sick and tired of living my days with no direction, just misinformation and delusion.  I'm bored with so much to do.  Instead of doing any of it I put words here that no one reads.  But I'm used to being unread.  It comes with the territory.
I've just got to get out of this place for awhile.  Not physical space, but this PLACE I'm in.  I've been other places, places where I couldn't make myself stop smiling or places where I couldn't make myself stand up and places where I was ready to put a bullet in my brain.  But this place isn't like the other ones, it's unmapped territory for this girl.  I might be looking for a tour guide, but I doubt anyone could keep me on the right paths, I fight them with everything inside myself.
I think I found the light.  But when Psyche found the light she lost Love.  And depending on the story she might never get it back again.  Did I do the right thing?  I know I did the right thing, but did I do the Right Thing?
I think I did the Right Thing too late.  So it wasn't the Right Thing anymore, but The Only Thing.  At least, The Only Thing that wouldn't leave me laying face down in despair or tied to a bed. 
He tried to write poetry once.  I'd have rather he hit me.  Because it would have hurt less.  And with poetry I can hit back, harder.  He'll see someday and he'll deny it's about me.  I hope I make his mother cry.
I'm out of this place until Sunday.  But I'll still be in this PLACE while I'm gone.

...of my earlier post.

I have just completed my NaNoWriMo project.  What that means is I have written a 50,077 word novel in under a month.  I started the novel on November 1st and officially crossed the finish line today.  Technically I cannot submit my novel as a winning entry until the 25th.  But I have finished.

Please note this is potentially one of the worst things I've ever written.  The idea is quantity, not quality.  So, there's plenty of quantity, but the quality is...low.  To say the least.  I have a feeling this will be stored away and never spoken of again.

However, it has encouraged me.  I've discovered I can, in fact, write a novel or at least novella length project if I push myself hard enough.  Which gives me hope as I've got at least three novel length projects planned: a serial novel, an urban fantasy novel, and...um...a chick lit novel I've pretty much been dared to write.  This is on top of the fact that I need to have a poetry manuscript put together by next spring for the  Starett prize.

If I ever get around to any of those projects, it will be a minor miracle.  If anything comes of any of the projects, it will be a major miracle.  If any of this ever lands me on the cover of Maxim THAT should scare the fuck out of you, because the end of the world is upon us.

50,077

Now I dead from NaNoWriMo.

...gone crazy in the dark and I have gone crazy in the light.

I'm not sure which one was better, to tell the truth.

Spent the weekend at Sarah's.  We tried to do Light Up Night downtown, but it was cold and we were hungry and I don't like crowds much.  So, we ended up heading out to see the big tree and then went back to Shadyside for dinner.  The tree was gorgeous and I was smiling insanely.  I can't help but love the holidays.  Pagan or not, the whole season brings a smile to my face.

Finished my brother's X-mas scarf and ended up having enough yarn left over to make a little one for myself.  It's cute and I needed a black scarf anyway.  Music at Sarah's is always an interesting endeavor: she's not wild about my listening habits and some of hers bother me.  But I have to admit, there's something refreshing about sitting around on a Friday night, talking about nothing and listening to Oasis.  And she still has to make me my damned fingerless gloves.

Dinner party on Saturday night.  Which was great.  Fantastic homemade gnocci and I blew my fucking diet again.  Also drank too much again, but by around 11 I decided I need a rum and coke to shut up the voices in my head that have been there for weeks now and won't listen to my arguments of "I know I'm crazy, just go away, please."  The rum and coke helped, a little.  And at least I wasn't hung over this morning.

However today was cold and fucking rainy.  Ended up freezing my ass off for over forty minutes waiting for a bus home, only to get here and discover that I've once again been abandoned.  Oh well, I've got a  pot of spicy black beans with onions and (turkey) bacon waiting downstairs and I'll just have to either locate the tv remote, play some video games or settle on a movie to watch to clear my head.

Back to work tomorrow, then home for Thanksgiving on Wednesday night.

Novel WILL be finished by the 25th.  And then we will never speak of it again.

I would like to thank which ever deity was responsible for getting me the FUCK OUT OF ELECTRONICS RETAIL in time for me to not have to work the PS3 release.

Because I know how it would have worked.  Because of how it worked last year:

"Hey, Ashly, you're working the morning of the 360 release."
"I'm fucking WHAT?"
"Yeah.  Because you're free to work and you actually gave enough of a shit to know things about the system."
"It's four PM the day before release and we already have a line.  Those people are going to be like fucking ZOMBIES come tomorrow morning."
"We'll give you riot gear."
"Can it have S.T.A.R.S. written on it?"
"No."
"Can I wear a name tag that day that lists my name as 'Claire Redfield?'"
"No."
"'Rebecca Chambers?'"
"No.  We will, however, accept 'Jill Valentine.'"
"Does that mean I have to wear the skirt?"
"...yes."
"Fuck that, then."
"Okay, fine then.  No riot gear for you."

*please note that the above is a highly fictionalized version of events and should in no way be assumed to be even remotely true.  Except Luke really did promise me riot gear that I never got.

So I'm standing outside on a November night and the bus has just passed me by and I'm whispering words to the sky, but the sky doesn't care.  And I'm alone and I'm lonely and I know that's only my choice and it's starting to rain again.  I'm going insane from words and from lack of action and from the nagging in my  head that none of this does any good and somebody else has already done it better.  And the trees are bare and part of me likes it that way because that way nothing can hide in them.  I'm not afraid of surprises, I'm just afraid I can no longer be surprised.

I didn't used to be this way.  And I somehow figure the sky isn't to blame.

as last night...

And you wonder why I am the way I am anymore. You stopped listening awhile ago, that's why I stopped talking. And if I went looking for something that seemed to speak to me, not at me, even if it's all lies, then fuck it. I'll take comforting lies over indifferent truths right now.

You've made it clear where I stand in our "friendship." And I'm more than a little sick of it. If I'm there for you, you're not there for me. So why do I keep showing up? I know life is hard, life is hard for all of us. Life's a little harder for one of you right now.

I just can't remember having felt this lonely in a long time. I CHOSE loneliness, but there really wasn't an alternative at that point. And I don't think I would have changed that choice. But I still feel outside it all. And you have done your best to keep me to the outside.

Time is the only cure for it all right now. Counting down days until it's over and I'm lonely by myself which is a far sight better to me than being lonely around other people. Especially when those people are your "friends."

I want contact in all the ways I can have it, I don't want to settle for just one.  But I can't let anyone close enough for that.  Not yet, anyway.

...you come back to a song that you never really liked or listened to.  And suddenly it makes sense and you realize that you weren't supposed to get the song before, but now you're supposed to get it.

...you have to wear your headphones just to go to your kitchen.  Just to keep yourself from calling your housemate on something.

...you realize you did the right thing.  But it still upsets you.  And you almost wish you'd done the wrong thing.  But then your self respect tells you to STFU.

...you're just cold.  And you don't know why.

...you want something you know you can't have, despite logic and despite reality.  And you almost want to escape logic and reality just to have it.

...you know it doesn't do any good in the end.


EDIT: And I'm only welcome along when somebody else mentions it.  And they wonder why I have the taste in music that I have.

I bought an I-Pod.  It's one of the special edition red ones in the 4 gig model.  I figured 8 was overkill.  It's my very special birthday present to me.

I named it "Simon Tam."

Once again overdrank last night.  This is becoming a habit that I do not like.  Granted, part of my drinking last night was because it was either that or kill someone.  Someone specific.  But I didn't end up so much as throwing a punch, which is probably a good thing.

Okay, I'm off to write a bit more while Simon synchs up.  Then, I'm watching the Steeler's game and working on my younger brother's scarf.  The fun never stops 'round here!  Woooo!

New haircut.  Is short.  Is cute.  Will hopefully be adding a new picture or two soon since I absolutely hate the one I've got on here now.  Granted, I'm not real wild about ANY picture of me at this point, but meh.  You can't hide from your fears.  I guess.  I dunno.

Actual birthday party tonight.  I stupidly got trashed on my actual birthday.  I need to learn to stop drinking so much.  I never like the way it feels when I'm drunk and I never like the way it feels when I'm hungover.  I need to work on cutting back.  I think I'll make that my goal in the coming months.  Well, one of my goals, at least.

Finished my second scarf today.  It's my friend Reilly's Christmas gift.  It's cute, brown and blue.  I also got the yarn for my brother, mother and grandmother's scarves, so I'm set for gift knitting.  And just in time, my friend Sarah gave me the most awesome size 13 needles ever: they have SKULLS on the end!

NaNo has hit the halfway point.  I'm still panicking over not having enough plot to hit 50,000 words, but I will figure it out.  I feel like I'm actually going to finish this year.  Even if it means I'm typing until 11:59 on November 30, I'm finishing this!  So that no one can EVER read it.

Well, off to clean the kitchen some more.  There's vegetable matter on the counter from when my housemates made a post roast earlier this week.  I refuse to touch it.  I didn't eat the roast, I will not clean up that part of the mess.  Purely on principle.  And remember, I'm the one in the house who doesn't complain about the mice.

24 DEFINATELY tastes less chalky than 23 did.  I'm liking it more already.

Tomorrow is my 24th birthday.

I'm just hoping it tastes less chalky than 23 did.

My NaNo project just broke 14,000 words.  In five days.

Too bad I'm running out of story and I don't think my plot is long enough to hit 50,000 words without some SERIOUS retooling.

...someone has favorited me.  Apparently.  I'm not sure.  I'm new to this whole thing.

Anyway, no reason to be shy.  I don't bite.  Unless you really want me to.  Then, I'll bite you like there's no tomorrow, oh baby, oh baby.

And despite trying to avoid it earlier, I actually got some work done on this year's NaNo project.  I am learning how difficult it really is to write fight scenes and sex scenes.  Which makes me think that anyone who called genre writing "lazy writing' hasn't done much of it worth reading.  It is hard to write a decent fight or sex scene where I don't feel like my word choice is terrible and my descriptions don't feel wooden.  Oh well, guess that's what this is all about.

I'm thinking about another tattoo.