October 2007

I’m stressing out about the impending onset of InaDWriMo. It hasn’t even started yet, and I’m already convinced that there is No. Fucking. Way. I’m going to be able to write 200 words, let alone 20,000. What the hell was I thinking? I have fallen off the horse. The horse is gone. I have no more horse. Thus, there will be no writing (you’re following this lame, extended metaphor, right?).

But seriously. Why am I psyching myself out already? Yes, I have not been so good about writing the diss….and yes, that is seriously an understatement. But I wrote the conference paper (such as it is…it still needs to be edited down to a more reasonable length and I really need to start practicing it), so clearly it’s not like I’m physically incapable of writing at all. So what is this block that’s making me freak out, already, about the prospect of trying to write the dissertation?

I know all the standard reasons and potential fixes for writer’s block. I know that my rampant perfectionism, my sheer terror of being Found Out (as an imposter, of course) and my guilt about already having failed at deadlines is an evil combination that makes me feel like it’s just not even worth trying. But that’s ridiculous, and I know it. I know that the only way through this thing to those three shiny letters at the end is to just write the goddamn diss. I know that I’ve already done all the research (despite this nagging feeling that I really haven’t done any actual “research”) and I’ve done all the fieldwork (despite feeling like all I have is a bunch of crappy impressions and notes). I know what the overall trajectory of the diss is. I have an outline of the whole thing, I have a plan for dealing with the chapters thematically in a way that’s kind of cool and interesting (uh, I hope).

(Sorry….abrupt break in the thought-flow here. But damn, that chow mein was good.)

Anyway. Yeah. I need to just pull my shit together and start. And I’m hoping that InaDWriMo will give me the (gentle) kick in the ass I need for this.

(Ow, my tummy. Must stop binging. Maybe I’ll work on that in November, too.)


That’s what the doctor said this morning, and I’m with her. Here’s today RBO good stuff, to compensate for yesterday’s bitchfest.

  • Our OB rocks. She’s very nice and a little goofy. I like that.
  • We saw the li’l raspberry (actually, I think it’s closing in on the size of a grape) on the ultrasound. I can’t believe how much bigger it’s gotten in the past two weeks! We got a picture, but it’s not a great one–which is too bad, because there was a really clear picture on the screen, but the doc needed to re-measure with a different one. Regardless, it’s there, it’s growing, and we got to see the crazy-fast heartbeat.
  • Dudes. We made a tiny proto-person with a heartbeat. That’s cool.
  • After the appointment, we had the perfect lunch: tuna melts and french fries at a cute little diner we’d never been to before. Have I mentioned how much I love eating right now?
  • Oh, and–amazingly, the doctor was all, “You’re eating a ton? Good for you! Your weight gain seems fine. Eat up.”
  • Yes, I am going to be very smug about telling my mom that.
  • You know what else completely rocks about today? A surprise care package in the mail from Skycat and the Yogini.  With cookies (THEY SENT ME FOOD!!!! OMGSUPERPONIES!!!!!), and pint glasses, and gourds, and hippy-yoga info (yes, I know which of you put that in there), and a gorgeous card, and goddamn, I’ll say it again: I have the Best. Friends. Ever.
  • I wish they were closer. But otherwise, you know, they rock.
  • I took a three-cat-nap when we got back this afternoon.  Decadent.
  • Seriously. One of those moods where I’m like a tiny dog biting the air.
  • GB is driving me crazy, doing exactly the same things he always does. Poor GB. And grrrrrrrr.
  • I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning. I’m hoping we get to see the heartbeat, for real, this time. Because I am a complete bundle of anxieties right now that Something Is Wrong.
  • I have no reason for this feeling.
  • Yes, I know it’s a completely normal feeling. That doesn’t help and I find that more patronizing than comforting right now.
  • See? Bad mood.
  • I thought I’d feel a little better when we got past 8 weeks. I don’t, though.
  • I feel the same way about 12 weeks. But I’ll probably be a big neurotic freak then, too.
  • Is anyone in my household ever going to make any money? I mean, literally *any*?
  • I got sad news today from a very old and very dear friend who is at the beginning of what will probably be a very dark period in their life. My heart is heavy in sympathy, and my head is all lost in nostalgia.
  • I also found out today that I’ve had a paper proposal accepted for a regional conference in the spring. Which is good, I guess–clearly this is my year for Doing New and Scary Things. But now I guess I need to write that one, too.
  • Season 1 of Heroes? Was awesome. We binge-watched them all through Netflix (the “watch instantly” thing–very handy), and were excited to catch up to the new season. This new season? Holy hell it’s bad. The only thing I can figure is that, at the end of season one, they discovered that their viewing audience was actually all under the age of 14, and now they’re targeting the dialogue toward them. And the writing is just fucking sloppy. I’ll keep watching–tonight will be the first one we’ll actually watch as it airs–but I’m not optimistic.
  • I miss Buffy. And Six Feet Under. And other shows that didn’t assume that I’m a hormonal 14-year-old.
  • Just to clarify: I’m a hormonal 36-year-old. Totally different.
  • Ugh. Enough crap for one post. Feel free to tell me something good in the comments.

I was nervous about it at first, but now I am so ready for this. I got the conference paper written (after doing *no* writing at all in…crap…let’s just say months and months), and realized that it’s actually the skeleton of one of my diss chapters. Oh, and I have two chapters that are almost 3 months past my advisor’s deadline. So yeah, I’m ready for InaDWriMo 2007!

The fact that just about a million people are participating is helping, too…I’m not so big on competition, but I do thrive on the prospect of public shaming. So. My word counters are over there in the sidebar, ready to go. I’m pledging 20,000 words during the month of November.

(Secretly, I will be proud of myself for writing 1/10th of that. But no! The pledge will be met! Uh, I mean, *I* will meet the pledge.)

Okay! Two more days of slacking, and it’s on.

Get yours here: http://www.buildyourwildself.com/

(As seen at all the cool kids’ places)

I’ve been nauseated for the past 24 hours. The only time I’m not sick is when I’m sleeping. All hail sleeping.

I’m not really a puker–I mean, I’m *really* not a puker. Jagermeister-induced bathroom-spackling moments aside*, I tend to just hang onto my queasiness. It’s not necessarily a good thing, but there it is.

And then I took a shower, and my soap–my new Pumpkin soap! That I’ve been waiting for! Because it’s so awesomely Halloweeny! — totally turned my stomach.

Dammit. I can’t drink. I can’t smoke (uh, I mean I “don’t” smoke). I can’t do recreational drugs (not that I have been, but still). I can’t take my beloved Klonopin.

And now I can’t smell fabulous, either.

I swear to goddess, if I lose my appetite too I may just go on a rampage.

*I’m trying to find that post in my archives, and it’s nowhere to be found. Did I actually *not* blog about spackling Bad Idea’s bathroom with Jager-puke last July? That seems like quite the glaring omission.

So, you know, I’ve been lonely lately. GB and I pretty much spend all of our time together, and I love his company and continue to be amazed at our ability to spend all day and night, every day, together without wanting to inflict bodily harm. So that’s awesome.

But it’s really weird, not having friends here. We have one friend in this town–a San Francisco friend who happens to be living here now. We didn’t know she was here when we moved here, so that was a nice surprise. But a lot of the SF people are really hardcore drinking friends, and I am not so much the hardcore drinker these days (alas!). So we’ve seen her twice since we’ve been here, and she’s awesome, but I don’t expect to see her much more often than we’ve been.

And we’re not going out, which is where we usually meet people–I mean, every one of our East Coast friends came from our local bar. And yes, we could go out to the bar anyway. But we’re broke, and you know, I really freaking love drinking. And the idea of sitting in a bar all night *not* getting hammered is not so appealing to me right now.

So this is really just a whine. I’m lonely. I don’t really see a way to meet people here (and I’m not really looking for suggestions on that…yes, I know there are other ways to meet people, but I’m not feeling motivated to pursue any of them). I miss the hell out of my friends who are scattered around the country, and I feel cut off, and it’s bumming me out.

And yeah. This is my third cross-country move, and I am all too familiar with this phase of loneliness in a new city. And it passes; every time, I end up making fabulous new friends. But right now, it makes me sad.

And I’m hungry.

All the freaking time. And all of you with your amazing cooking and dinner-party skillz (I’m looking at you, Skycat and Adjunct Whore and MaggieMay, but I know there are more of you out there too…you’re killing me with these posts! I’m hungry. I’m lazy. I have no friends who can cook living nearby. Oh my god, what I would give for Skycat’s veggie tacos or Bad Idea’s homemade salsa or Jason’s grilled chicken or Weezy’s greenie beanie casserole.

Okay. Whine over. I feel better for venting a little.

So, who wants to visit? Bring food!

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