BOOKS READ:
53. The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey, Trenton Lee Stewart
54. Heartbeat... ? (I don't want to go downstairs and check)
My, oh my, you meet some STRANGE people at the grocery store at four in the afternoon. Like "Grammy" with four kids, who was probably only sixty, but was wearing this like bright, pearly pink eyeshadow up to her eyebrows. I found that entertaining and wanted to give her a high-five. I didn't.
Then there was various older couples coming out to grocery shop together since there's nothing else fun to do when you're retired, and seriously, there was this one older guy that was just LOST. He was there the whole time I was-- I ran into him a couple of times-- and he just had this blank expression on his face, a box of orange soda in his basket, nothing else. Hey, at least he had good taste in soda. There was the homeless guy who stunk to high heaven who just sort of stared at various things, where I assumed he was calculating in his head what he could afford, and I wanted to hand him a couple of bucks and tell him to go crazy, but I didn't know how to do it without offending him, and then I got nervous so I didn't. I should have. I don't know what he bought.
BUT UGGGGGGGGGGGGH, there was this thrity-something big-britches business guy who was racing around the store like it was going out of style, bumping into people's carts to make room for himself, running around like he owned the place... I seriously thought he was stalking me the first time I saw him. He followed me up and down like three isles, and was walkingg real fast, which made me nervous, so I walked real fast, and I couldn't shake him, and then when I stopped to grab Top Ramen, he had to stop behind me. I made sure I took my time picking out the chicken flavors for Grandma. HA, THIRTY-SOMETHING BUSINIESS GUY! That's what you get for trying to show all the other shoppers up!
BuUuUuUuUut.... new favorite snack?
M&M's in yogurt. Oh my gosh, I nearly died. So buying that again.
5.20.2010
5.16.2010
Randomness enough for the last few weeks
The random thoughts I've had over the last few days: since I haven't been posting, I'm going to just jumble them all together here. I've forgotten many. Oh well.
I just realized that one of my favorite songs (Into the Ocean, Blue October) is a song about a guy commiting suicide. Totally sad, right? The last lines are… “into the ocean, end it all (goodbye, goodbye). Into the ocean, end it all (goodbye, goodbye). I thought of just your face.” SO SAD!
Today, while cutting Stephanie's Birthday dessert:
MOM: This is the hardest cake I ever cut!
ME: That's because it's pie.
Dad, Mom and I all went to see Robin Hood yesterday. Consensus? Mom and I love us the Russel Crowe and his sad, sad eyes. <3 <3 <3
FACT: It's 1:33 in the morning, so techincally, all things happening "yesterday" really happened two days ago.
One of my favorite saying: "Don't worry about the world ending today. It's already tomorrow in Australia."
I saw balloons on a gravestone the otherday. I've seen this many times. I am the ONLY ONE who finds this ironic?
QUESTION: Will we still have birthday parties in the afterlife? Because it sure as heck won't be heaven with a serious lack of pinatas.
(I laughed at my cleverness when I wrote that ^^^ "it sure as HECK won't be heaven"... muhahaha. Play on words.)
Clash of the Titans just may be one of my top-ten favorite movies.
ELF is still my all-time favorite movie, and I assume it will always be that way.
Greg, my brother in law, quoted Homestarrunner.com today. I recognized it and finished the quote for him. I feel immensely proud.
FACT: I can't spell if my life depended on it. I hope this never happens. Because dying of lack of correct spelling would be a terrible way to day.
Paige Weldon and I conluded in the 9th grade that dying in PE would be the absolute WORST way to die. Not just because it sucks, but because the freakin UNIFORMS sucked. However, once my shorts were stolen and I could never wear them around the house once I graduated, I was particularly disappointed. It happened in middle school, too. I guess the Garden Gnome who haunts the TMS girl's lockerroom thinks I am unfit to keep my gym shorts. (Ha. Ha ha. Unfit... PE. Clever.)
In the last two weeks, I've killed off about a dozen friends in my dreams, incluing Micheal Reyes (in a car accident), Paige Weldon, and others I can no longer remember. However, I was a studious seminary student, sacrificed myself so the innocent pedestrians wouldn't get hurt in a game of Chicken with Suburbans, snuck off to a fancy hotel to buy books in the gift shop (um. yeah. I'm not even going to touch on that one), finished re-reading The City of Glass, forgot Nan's name, specifically remembered Nan's name three nights later, went ice skating with one of the dolls you get from Child Phsyc (the ones that cry and make noises and stuff), and ate sugarcubes. Pretty epic, if you ask me. Thought annoying. I wish I would stop dreaming for a few days. It's pretty exhausted.
I just realized that one of my favorite songs (Into the Ocean, Blue October) is a song about a guy commiting suicide. Totally sad, right? The last lines are… “into the ocean, end it all (goodbye, goodbye). Into the ocean, end it all (goodbye, goodbye). I thought of just your face.” SO SAD!
Today, while cutting Stephanie's Birthday dessert:
MOM: This is the hardest cake I ever cut!
ME: That's because it's pie.
Dad, Mom and I all went to see Robin Hood yesterday. Consensus? Mom and I love us the Russel Crowe and his sad, sad eyes. <3 <3 <3
FACT: It's 1:33 in the morning, so techincally, all things happening "yesterday" really happened two days ago.
One of my favorite saying: "Don't worry about the world ending today. It's already tomorrow in Australia."
I saw balloons on a gravestone the otherday. I've seen this many times. I am the ONLY ONE who finds this ironic?
QUESTION: Will we still have birthday parties in the afterlife? Because it sure as heck won't be heaven with a serious lack of pinatas.
(I laughed at my cleverness when I wrote that ^^^ "it sure as HECK won't be heaven"... muhahaha. Play on words.)
Clash of the Titans just may be one of my top-ten favorite movies.
ELF is still my all-time favorite movie, and I assume it will always be that way.
Greg, my brother in law, quoted Homestarrunner.com today. I recognized it and finished the quote for him. I feel immensely proud.
FACT: I can't spell if my life depended on it. I hope this never happens. Because dying of lack of correct spelling would be a terrible way to day.
Paige Weldon and I conluded in the 9th grade that dying in PE would be the absolute WORST way to die. Not just because it sucks, but because the freakin UNIFORMS sucked. However, once my shorts were stolen and I could never wear them around the house once I graduated, I was particularly disappointed. It happened in middle school, too. I guess the Garden Gnome who haunts the TMS girl's lockerroom thinks I am unfit to keep my gym shorts. (Ha. Ha ha. Unfit... PE. Clever.)
In the last two weeks, I've killed off about a dozen friends in my dreams, incluing Micheal Reyes (in a car accident), Paige Weldon, and others I can no longer remember. However, I was a studious seminary student, sacrificed myself so the innocent pedestrians wouldn't get hurt in a game of Chicken with Suburbans, snuck off to a fancy hotel to buy books in the gift shop (um. yeah. I'm not even going to touch on that one), finished re-reading The City of Glass, forgot Nan's name, specifically remembered Nan's name three nights later, went ice skating with one of the dolls you get from Child Phsyc (the ones that cry and make noises and stuff), and ate sugarcubes. Pretty epic, if you ask me. Thought annoying. I wish I would stop dreaming for a few days. It's pretty exhausted.
5.15.2010
100 Books A Year
SO! Realizing that I haven't posted in a while (seeing as Dad STILL has the internet back in California) I realized that I haven't posted anything about my latest project! Okay, goal. Probably the only goal I've ever concerned myself enough about to actually remember it, let alone reach it. Ha. Yeah, I'm a loser. But we've known that for a while now. But only when it comes to goals. Even in elementary school, when they'd make us set goals, I specifiaclly remember thinking it was stupid. And look to see how I've grown up.
Anyways! My goal!
I have pledged (to... myself, I guess. I don't think Oprah or the Queen of England really care about my particular goals) that before January 1st of next year, I will read 100 books. Okay, actually, it was more of, "I will read 100 books in the time between January 1st 2010 and January 1st 2011."
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT.
Guess who just finished Book #52? BOOYEAH.
I guess that means I'm right on schedule, eh? Only problem: I just ran out of books. Again. All my birthday books. Although, between you and me, the six of them lasted me two weeks, since I got on a writing kick after reading Stolen (read probably four posts back to my rant), and didn't read for a few days.
What you should also know is that I'm living limbo right now: only two more months until my dad's trial-job ends and we'll know if it will become permanint (meaning, whether the economy has come back up enough for him to start working with one of his old partners back in California again, doing the things he actually likes to do), and we FINALLY decide if we're staying here in Utah, if so, where, or if we're going back to California, if so, where, or somewhere completely different. (I'm not sure the Dubai offer is still in from last year, haha. Cause that'd be weird.) Thus, that's why I'm not really doing anything: I was GOING to start school at the DATC for MA, but I don't want to start here if I'm only staying a month, you know? I'll start when we've moved. Cause Gramma, who we're staying with, is moving out this summer, too. To, guess where? California. Only No. Cal, which we all know is vastly different and should therfore be a completely different state. (See? I haven't lost my California loyalties, unlike OTHERS I could mention... what with all this "Cali" nonsense... OHHHHHHHHHH THAT BUGS ME TO NO END...)
So. THE RULES:
1. I must read the entire book. I am only alloted twenty pages of skippage for the book to count as "read."
2. I may skip more than twenty pages WHILE STILL READING, just to satisfy my need to know what happens, but MUST go back and read the skipped pages for it to count as "read."
3. I may reread books, but again, they must be read all the way through (omitted the twenty pages overall, in dire and neccesary situations) not just skimmed, to count as "read."
4. If I can't give a review of the book after reading it, this means I was falling asleep while reading it, and therefore must go back and reread the parts I can't remember to make it "count."
5. More rules may be added as neccesary. But none may be eliminated.
6. My own works do not count. Okay, Let It Be does, but only if I read it straight-through. Which I rarely do.
7. Textbooks DO count, but seeing as not only do I not POSSESS any, the fact that I'm going to read it from cover-to-cover (omit alloted twenty pages) is so highly unlike I might laugh. But I thought it was good rule.
8. All books MUST be completed by January 1st, 12:00 AM. NO EXCEPTIONS. Unless I go into a coma....
9. If I go into a coma (medicine indused or otherwise) I will be allowed the number of days I was unconscious--- up until January 1st 2010--- to catch up. This is unlikely, but I'd like to be prepared.
So, happy reading, ya'll!
(Wanna know what I've been reading? Probably not, but I'm showing you anyways. The one's I've read since I last post. At the end, I'll post the list of all 100 I read.)
BOOKS COMPLETELD:
47. Stolen, Lucy Christopher
48. The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, E. Lockhart
49. Wondrous Strange, Lesley Livingston
50. Eyes Like Stars, Lisa Mantchev
51. The Knife of Never Letting Go, Patrick Ness
52. Shiver (reread), Maggie Steifvater
Anyways! My goal!
I have pledged (to... myself, I guess. I don't think Oprah or the Queen of England really care about my particular goals) that before January 1st of next year, I will read 100 books. Okay, actually, it was more of, "I will read 100 books in the time between January 1st 2010 and January 1st 2011."
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT.
Guess who just finished Book #52? BOOYEAH.
I guess that means I'm right on schedule, eh? Only problem: I just ran out of books. Again. All my birthday books. Although, between you and me, the six of them lasted me two weeks, since I got on a writing kick after reading Stolen (read probably four posts back to my rant), and didn't read for a few days.
What you should also know is that I'm living limbo right now: only two more months until my dad's trial-job ends and we'll know if it will become permanint (meaning, whether the economy has come back up enough for him to start working with one of his old partners back in California again, doing the things he actually likes to do), and we FINALLY decide if we're staying here in Utah, if so, where, or if we're going back to California, if so, where, or somewhere completely different. (I'm not sure the Dubai offer is still in from last year, haha. Cause that'd be weird.) Thus, that's why I'm not really doing anything: I was GOING to start school at the DATC for MA, but I don't want to start here if I'm only staying a month, you know? I'll start when we've moved. Cause Gramma, who we're staying with, is moving out this summer, too. To, guess where? California. Only No. Cal, which we all know is vastly different and should therfore be a completely different state. (See? I haven't lost my California loyalties, unlike OTHERS I could mention... what with all this "Cali" nonsense... OHHHHHHHHHH THAT BUGS ME TO NO END...)
So. THE RULES:
1. I must read the entire book. I am only alloted twenty pages of skippage for the book to count as "read."
2. I may skip more than twenty pages WHILE STILL READING, just to satisfy my need to know what happens, but MUST go back and read the skipped pages for it to count as "read."
3. I may reread books, but again, they must be read all the way through (omitted the twenty pages overall, in dire and neccesary situations) not just skimmed, to count as "read."
4. If I can't give a review of the book after reading it, this means I was falling asleep while reading it, and therefore must go back and reread the parts I can't remember to make it "count."
5. More rules may be added as neccesary. But none may be eliminated.
6. My own works do not count. Okay, Let It Be does, but only if I read it straight-through. Which I rarely do.
7. Textbooks DO count, but seeing as not only do I not POSSESS any, the fact that I'm going to read it from cover-to-cover (omit alloted twenty pages) is so highly unlike I might laugh. But I thought it was good rule.
8. All books MUST be completed by January 1st, 12:00 AM. NO EXCEPTIONS. Unless I go into a coma....
9. If I go into a coma (medicine indused or otherwise) I will be allowed the number of days I was unconscious--- up until January 1st 2010--- to catch up. This is unlikely, but I'd like to be prepared.
So, happy reading, ya'll!
(Wanna know what I've been reading? Probably not, but I'm showing you anyways. The one's I've read since I last post. At the end, I'll post the list of all 100 I read.)
BOOKS COMPLETELD:
47. Stolen, Lucy Christopher
48. The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, E. Lockhart
49. Wondrous Strange, Lesley Livingston
50. Eyes Like Stars, Lisa Mantchev
51. The Knife of Never Letting Go, Patrick Ness
52. Shiver (reread), Maggie Steifvater
Shiver and Syrup (not necessarily together)
I'm sorry, but Shiver might be one of my alltime favorite books. Or, rather stories. No, actually, the writing wasn't bad at all. Especially in Sam's perspective. Yes, it's a romantic YA story (yes, involving wearwolves, but very un-werewolfy werewolfs, and let's face, I'm a sucker for Werewolfs. But not the ones inf Twilight. Because I'm not a Twilight person in the least. But otherwise, werewolves? Yes. Like in The Summoning triology. And Luke, in the City of Bones (is it Bones first? Or City of Ashes? I can never remember. Although, I'm still voting for Isabelle in City--- not Maia. Anyways)
But Maggie Steifvater's (the author... I mightily enjoy her stuff) writing has been called "Musical, magical... perfect for engaging sharp minds and poetic hearts." I think like the idea of having a poetic heart. Oh, and the sharp mind bit. Definately.
But Shiver is good. Exceptionally good. In my taste. See, that's one thing. I like that I know no one that has the same taste as me, cause then I don't feel like a loser for being a romantic, because I'm the only one. Strange reasoning? Definately. Oh well. Hooray for the cheesey and corny! Well, sometimes. As long as it's convincing.
And that's another thing: why must things be "Cheesey" or "Corny"? Um, really, just because something is uncomfortably romantic or over-the-top doesn't mean it needs be named after some sort of fooooood. Like, even "sappy"! Cause, like, tree sap = maple syrup, right? Okay, maybe it's not like you take the straight sap and pour it on your short stack of pancakes, or I don't know, maybe you do. It's the essence of the tree that goes into our tasty goo. Anyways, sap = food. And if food terms= cheesey stories, then sap=cheesey stories, right? See, who said I never learned anything in math?
Okay, it made no sense, I know. But I was trying.
Anyways. Tasty or not (I mean, I like the way books smell, but I haven't really tested to see if they taste good or not... I'm leaning towards not so much), I enjoy me the love stories.
But Maggie Steifvater's (the author... I mightily enjoy her stuff) writing has been called "Musical, magical... perfect for engaging sharp minds and poetic hearts." I think like the idea of having a poetic heart. Oh, and the sharp mind bit. Definately.
But Shiver is good. Exceptionally good. In my taste. See, that's one thing. I like that I know no one that has the same taste as me, cause then I don't feel like a loser for being a romantic, because I'm the only one. Strange reasoning? Definately. Oh well. Hooray for the cheesey and corny! Well, sometimes. As long as it's convincing.
And that's another thing: why must things be "Cheesey" or "Corny"? Um, really, just because something is uncomfortably romantic or over-the-top doesn't mean it needs be named after some sort of fooooood. Like, even "sappy"! Cause, like, tree sap = maple syrup, right? Okay, maybe it's not like you take the straight sap and pour it on your short stack of pancakes, or I don't know, maybe you do. It's the essence of the tree that goes into our tasty goo. Anyways, sap = food. And if food terms= cheesey stories, then sap=cheesey stories, right? See, who said I never learned anything in math?
Okay, it made no sense, I know. But I was trying.
Anyways. Tasty or not (I mean, I like the way books smell, but I haven't really tested to see if they taste good or not... I'm leaning towards not so much), I enjoy me the love stories.
5.05.2010
STOLEN-- Lucy Christopher
Reading a book until two in the morning just to finish it is not recommendable.
Granted, I've done this before. Dozens of times. And yet I do it again and again, hating myself every time.
I mean, it's not a secret that if a book is well written, you're not going to be able to roll over and fall asleep the second it's over, no matter HOW late it is. (Or early. Or, in a few cases, past dawn. Those are always fun.) Hopefully, you've made the author happy and are a storm of emotions. Many conflicting. Especially if it doesn't have a story-tale happy-ending (which, let's face it, most great books are, right? Okay, there are lots of good books with happy endings. And those can still be frustrating. Anyways). ESPECIALLY if you don't like the ending.
You just need some time to reflect, you know?
I started STOLEN by Lucy Christopher around 6 this evening and finished at 1:30 AM. And I'm frustrated. I'm happy with the ending. But still. There's no way to be completely satisfied, because when in life are you ever completely satisfied by any decision?
STOLEN was about a sixteen year old girl who's kidnapped by a guy. When she was ten, she unknowingly sort of gave him hope in life when he had fallen beyond rock bottom and was living in the bushes in her neighborhood park, drunken in sorrow. Six years later, he thinks her life is smothering her, and he steals her away. To the Australian outback. With no one-- NO ONE-- around, ever. And no, it's not one of those stories-- there is absolutely nothing sexy about it. Nothing like that. Ty really thinks he's doing the best for her. Eventually, she sort of connects with the land, understands him... then when she's bitten by a poisonous snake and his medicine doesn't work cause it's too old he takes her to a hospital-- strapped to the back of a camel as he runs along for who knows how many hours in the rain, over Australian outback, no less-- and he turns himself in so she can get hospital care.
Gemma's struggle to figure out what she thinks after she's back home, completely taken-over by the media, wondering what she's going to tell the court... every screams at her that Ty is evil, but he's not, and she knows it. Everyone is convinced that she has Stockholm's syndrome, but she doesn't. She just knows Ty isn't evil.
There's no freaking way Ty can get out of a prison sentence. She alludes to that. And she's not going to lie and say that she went on her own free will, and she's not going to lie and say that Ty is a monster. It's like, you don't know what to think either. Except sadness. Because Ty is so connected to the land-- it's all he's ever known. Humans have hurt him and destroyed him over his lifetime (cept Gemma, course) and so he's learned to love the land, the desert, all the life there. To think of him holed up in a cell for fifteen years just breaks your heart, even knowing what he did was wrong. And, seeing as the whole thing is written as a letter to Ty, an account of everything that happened, like, "You walked over to the cashier and paid for my coffee yourself; your blue eyes were familiar..." yadayada, makes it way more intense, anyways.
Sigh. Okay. I'm done reflecting. Maybe I can sleep now. Maybe not. I just needed to think.
Gez, I love good books. They make me want to write my own.
Granted, I've done this before. Dozens of times. And yet I do it again and again, hating myself every time.
I mean, it's not a secret that if a book is well written, you're not going to be able to roll over and fall asleep the second it's over, no matter HOW late it is. (Or early. Or, in a few cases, past dawn. Those are always fun.) Hopefully, you've made the author happy and are a storm of emotions. Many conflicting. Especially if it doesn't have a story-tale happy-ending (which, let's face it, most great books are, right? Okay, there are lots of good books with happy endings. And those can still be frustrating. Anyways). ESPECIALLY if you don't like the ending.
You just need some time to reflect, you know?
I started STOLEN by Lucy Christopher around 6 this evening and finished at 1:30 AM. And I'm frustrated. I'm happy with the ending. But still. There's no way to be completely satisfied, because when in life are you ever completely satisfied by any decision?
STOLEN was about a sixteen year old girl who's kidnapped by a guy. When she was ten, she unknowingly sort of gave him hope in life when he had fallen beyond rock bottom and was living in the bushes in her neighborhood park, drunken in sorrow. Six years later, he thinks her life is smothering her, and he steals her away. To the Australian outback. With no one-- NO ONE-- around, ever. And no, it's not one of those stories-- there is absolutely nothing sexy about it. Nothing like that. Ty really thinks he's doing the best for her. Eventually, she sort of connects with the land, understands him... then when she's bitten by a poisonous snake and his medicine doesn't work cause it's too old he takes her to a hospital-- strapped to the back of a camel as he runs along for who knows how many hours in the rain, over Australian outback, no less-- and he turns himself in so she can get hospital care.
Gemma's struggle to figure out what she thinks after she's back home, completely taken-over by the media, wondering what she's going to tell the court... every screams at her that Ty is evil, but he's not, and she knows it. Everyone is convinced that she has Stockholm's syndrome, but she doesn't. She just knows Ty isn't evil.
There's no freaking way Ty can get out of a prison sentence. She alludes to that. And she's not going to lie and say that she went on her own free will, and she's not going to lie and say that Ty is a monster. It's like, you don't know what to think either. Except sadness. Because Ty is so connected to the land-- it's all he's ever known. Humans have hurt him and destroyed him over his lifetime (cept Gemma, course) and so he's learned to love the land, the desert, all the life there. To think of him holed up in a cell for fifteen years just breaks your heart, even knowing what he did was wrong. And, seeing as the whole thing is written as a letter to Ty, an account of everything that happened, like, "You walked over to the cashier and paid for my coffee yourself; your blue eyes were familiar..." yadayada, makes it way more intense, anyways.
Sigh. Okay. I'm done reflecting. Maybe I can sleep now. Maybe not. I just needed to think.
Gez, I love good books. They make me want to write my own.
5.04.2010
Literature is food for your brain
So, I just realized that I failed to mention the fact that I recently went to a writers conference! The LDS Storymakers Conference, in fact. In Provo. At the Marriott center. Um... yeah.
I won't bore you with all the details, because I'm sure you won't find it as exciting as I did. Haha, HOWEVER, as I was meeting people and networking and all that good stuff (okay, I barely did any networking. I don't network. But I made a ton of friends, because that's what I do, right? Right.) I met this lady, and she looks at me, and looks at me, and says, "You look totally familiar. Do you have a blog?" I was all, "Um... yeah." Because EVERYONE there had a blog. Come on, we're writers. We have blogs. So the lady says, "What's it called? Maybe I've read it."
She was quite confused when I burst out laughing. I said, "Oh, honey. I'm pretty certain you haven't been there." Because this? Yeah, this is not anything people are talking about. Meaning, people other than people I know. Which is what I'm going for, so whatever.
Actually, I write this for me. The fact that people read it makes me laugh with astonishment. And happiness. I just hope I don't bore you.
ANYWAYS:::::
GUESS WHO JUST BOUGHT SIX BOOKS AT BARNES & NOBLE?!?!?!?
I DID!!!
With birthday gift cards, mind you. Because everyone knows that the perfect thing to give me.
And I'm about to pee my pants I'm so excited.
Not only did I get six books, but I did lots of researching of other books sitting around, and made like a thirty-book long wishlst... which, amazingly, I'm going to go look for at the library INSTEAD OF BUYING THEM. Yeah, I know. Crazy.
So, there I was, standing there in the middle of the isle, six fatty books in my arm, with my cell phone out as I wrote down the titles and authors of all these books I was looking at that I COULDN'T buy. Now, I'm sure to most of the people there, I looked like a freak, trying to juggle all this amazing literature, working with my phone with one fingertip while trying to hold on to books and pick new ones off the bottom shelf... but to someone in the store, someone must have seen me and been like: Dude. That girl is awesome. She knows her stuff.
Because I do. NOBODY can say I don't know my market. Because I soo, soo do. It takes time-- years, in fact-- and the sacrifice of your eyesight and many, MANY nights spent awake, reading until four in the morning because you just CAN'T put down the book.
Yeah. My life ROCKS. Well, when I get a chance.
WORDS ARE COOL.
I won't bore you with all the details, because I'm sure you won't find it as exciting as I did. Haha, HOWEVER, as I was meeting people and networking and all that good stuff (okay, I barely did any networking. I don't network. But I made a ton of friends, because that's what I do, right? Right.) I met this lady, and she looks at me, and looks at me, and says, "You look totally familiar. Do you have a blog?" I was all, "Um... yeah." Because EVERYONE there had a blog. Come on, we're writers. We have blogs. So the lady says, "What's it called? Maybe I've read it."
She was quite confused when I burst out laughing. I said, "Oh, honey. I'm pretty certain you haven't been there." Because this? Yeah, this is not anything people are talking about. Meaning, people other than people I know. Which is what I'm going for, so whatever.
Actually, I write this for me. The fact that people read it makes me laugh with astonishment. And happiness. I just hope I don't bore you.
ANYWAYS:::::
GUESS WHO JUST BOUGHT SIX BOOKS AT BARNES & NOBLE?!?!?!?
I DID!!!
With birthday gift cards, mind you. Because everyone knows that the perfect thing to give me.
And I'm about to pee my pants I'm so excited.
Not only did I get six books, but I did lots of researching of other books sitting around, and made like a thirty-book long wishlst... which, amazingly, I'm going to go look for at the library INSTEAD OF BUYING THEM. Yeah, I know. Crazy.
So, there I was, standing there in the middle of the isle, six fatty books in my arm, with my cell phone out as I wrote down the titles and authors of all these books I was looking at that I COULDN'T buy. Now, I'm sure to most of the people there, I looked like a freak, trying to juggle all this amazing literature, working with my phone with one fingertip while trying to hold on to books and pick new ones off the bottom shelf... but to someone in the store, someone must have seen me and been like: Dude. That girl is awesome. She knows her stuff.
Because I do. NOBODY can say I don't know my market. Because I soo, soo do. It takes time-- years, in fact-- and the sacrifice of your eyesight and many, MANY nights spent awake, reading until four in the morning because you just CAN'T put down the book.
Yeah. My life ROCKS. Well, when I get a chance.
WORDS ARE COOL.
5.02.2010
19th Birthday Madness
Ahhhh... 19!
Does it feel any different? Only when I think about it. Actually, yes, because my mom gave me pearls. There's something about wearing pearls that instantly makes you feel mature. (We'll skip the part where I beat the heck out of a butterfly pinata last night. Which actually was rather entertaining, seeing as we didn't have a bat, so we just kicked it. Ah, the sight of my mother kicking the crap out of cheerful butterfly... just warms my heart).
Yesterday was FANTASTIC. I thought I was sorta at the time where birthday's just sort of took the backseat-- you know, just sort of family dinner and a few presents. But oh no. My mom went ALL OUT. Actually, my whole family did. Dad's still in California, but he kept texting me videos of a funny birthday card, and sang to me on speaker phone and all that good stuff. He was obviously sad he wasn't there.
K, so I wake up, and my door is plastered in "19!"'s, and I'm like, "Awww, Mom loves me." But oh no. This is just the beginning. Everywhere upstairs there's dozens of "19!" and "Holly's 19!" signs everwhere and ribbons and balloons on the floor FREAKING my grandma's cat out, and the table's all decorated with party hats and streamers and stuff, and my mom's making CINNAMON ROLLS. Now, the fact that she even remembered the fact that I have developed a severe love for them is one thing, but to make them was another.
THEN, she takes me to Macy's to the Mac counter (oh yeah) and she's made an appointment for my to get my makeup done. THEN, she informs me that I get to pick out a freaking buttload of makeup. I now have a three piece set of lips and a five set piece of eyes and mascara. Um, yes please. Did I mention this is Mac? Um... delicious.
Are we finished? Aunt Sue and Uncle Dallas stop by to give me a card (And $20 bucks to Barnes and Noble, baby!) which was incredibly nice. Steph and Greg come over for dinner (TACOS! Which was my choosing, of course. Because I'm that cool.) And after we've gorged ourselves with amazing mexican food, we destroy the absolutely adorable cake that my mom made, and nearly POP eating it (and peanut butter ice cream, mmmmm). Then presents-- I know, right? Steph went online and made me these buttons with all sorts of pictures and sayings and stuff. She ALWAYS gives the coolest presents. Always. Um, and can I just say that she made me a MLIA one? Um, she's the coolest sister EVER.
Then, when I'm thinking we're going to go downstairs to watch Elf or something (my favorite movie of all time), Steph's like, WAIT! THERE'S MORE! Turns out she got tickets to see a show down in Salt Lake (I totally just wrote San Diego. Oh my gosh. I miss California). The show? "STAR WARD." Um, again, yes please. It was totally ridiculous and amazing and Star Wars mixe3d with Mormon humor.
Turns out that the Butterfly Pinata (I'm not sure why I capitalized that) sitting on the mantle? Yeah, not just for decoration. It's stuffed. So we put it on a broom over the stairs and kicked the heck out of that thing. Easily the best part of the day. And my mom being the clever lady that she is, stuffed it with both candy and silly games and stuff. We seriously spent like two hours playing with sticky hands and yo-yo's.
Then it was midnight and I was tired so I sent everyone off to bed. Then I dreamed that I killed Micheal Reyes in a car accident and woke up terribly distraught. Sorry, Mike. I love you. Steph and Greg were gone when I woke up... um,coughcoughatoneo'clockcougcough... and so I came up here to blog.
THANK YOUUUUUUUUUU to everyone that helped make my birthday the best one yet! I feel very, very loved.
I love you Mom!
Does it feel any different? Only when I think about it. Actually, yes, because my mom gave me pearls. There's something about wearing pearls that instantly makes you feel mature. (We'll skip the part where I beat the heck out of a butterfly pinata last night. Which actually was rather entertaining, seeing as we didn't have a bat, so we just kicked it. Ah, the sight of my mother kicking the crap out of cheerful butterfly... just warms my heart).
Yesterday was FANTASTIC. I thought I was sorta at the time where birthday's just sort of took the backseat-- you know, just sort of family dinner and a few presents. But oh no. My mom went ALL OUT. Actually, my whole family did. Dad's still in California, but he kept texting me videos of a funny birthday card, and sang to me on speaker phone and all that good stuff. He was obviously sad he wasn't there.
K, so I wake up, and my door is plastered in "19!"'s, and I'm like, "Awww, Mom loves me." But oh no. This is just the beginning. Everywhere upstairs there's dozens of "19!" and "Holly's 19!" signs everwhere and ribbons and balloons on the floor FREAKING my grandma's cat out, and the table's all decorated with party hats and streamers and stuff, and my mom's making CINNAMON ROLLS. Now, the fact that she even remembered the fact that I have developed a severe love for them is one thing, but to make them was another.
THEN, she takes me to Macy's to the Mac counter (oh yeah) and she's made an appointment for my to get my makeup done. THEN, she informs me that I get to pick out a freaking buttload of makeup. I now have a three piece set of lips and a five set piece of eyes and mascara. Um, yes please. Did I mention this is Mac? Um... delicious.
Are we finished? Aunt Sue and Uncle Dallas stop by to give me a card (And $20 bucks to Barnes and Noble, baby!) which was incredibly nice. Steph and Greg come over for dinner (TACOS! Which was my choosing, of course. Because I'm that cool.) And after we've gorged ourselves with amazing mexican food, we destroy the absolutely adorable cake that my mom made, and nearly POP eating it (and peanut butter ice cream, mmmmm). Then presents-- I know, right? Steph went online and made me these buttons with all sorts of pictures and sayings and stuff. She ALWAYS gives the coolest presents. Always. Um, and can I just say that she made me a MLIA one? Um, she's the coolest sister EVER.
Then, when I'm thinking we're going to go downstairs to watch Elf or something (my favorite movie of all time), Steph's like, WAIT! THERE'S MORE! Turns out she got tickets to see a show down in Salt Lake (I totally just wrote San Diego. Oh my gosh. I miss California). The show? "STAR WARD." Um, again, yes please. It was totally ridiculous and amazing and Star Wars mixe3d with Mormon humor.
Turns out that the Butterfly Pinata (I'm not sure why I capitalized that) sitting on the mantle? Yeah, not just for decoration. It's stuffed. So we put it on a broom over the stairs and kicked the heck out of that thing. Easily the best part of the day. And my mom being the clever lady that she is, stuffed it with both candy and silly games and stuff. We seriously spent like two hours playing with sticky hands and yo-yo's.
Then it was midnight and I was tired so I sent everyone off to bed. Then I dreamed that I killed Micheal Reyes in a car accident and woke up terribly distraught. Sorry, Mike. I love you. Steph and Greg were gone when I woke up... um,coughcoughatoneo'clockcougcough... and so I came up here to blog.
THANK YOUUUUUUUUUU to everyone that helped make my birthday the best one yet! I feel very, very loved.
I love you Mom!
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