By the numbers

It's an amazing return on investment. Three years of acting in school and community theatre was enough to garner a lifetime of "forgetting my line" nightmares.

The number? For evil?

I've been avoiding my computer since I finished my play. First there was World of Warcraft and then there was the trip to San Diego and now I am starting to watch the third season of Dexter. None of my excuses are good.

This New Year's Eve looks to be much like last year. I will probably not see anyone. I will likely fall asleep absurdly early and try not to drool on my pillow. Friday morning I will reach over and make sure my husband made it home. Glamorous!

At the liquor store I picked up a couple bottles of wine in case the urge hits, but drinking alone is so 1999.

I had to leave one bottle behind because the store was crowded, the clerk was frantic, and the bottle didn't scan. An older man, the clerk punched the numbers into the computer, nothing came back, and so he shouted at the back, "Do you have the number for Evil? The number, for Evil, you have it?"

Oh, the eyes on me. The judging. I swear the woman with the three mini bottles of vodka couldn't have looked more disgusted.

That'll show me for picking the Australian Cab.

Squeezing in one last 2009 trip

I've been visiting family and off-line for a week. I took a few portraits, ate a lot of unhealthy things, and generally tried to enjoy all that southern CA has to offer, which if you go by my itinerary is made up of Sombrero's, In-N-Out, Carl's Jr, Bob's Big Boy, and The Hat.

Now I am happy to be home with my cats. Although I think maybe some burglars broke in while we were gone and messed up the place. I don't remember leaving it this messy...

(Riiiight)

maybe i should pack

I guess I'm on vacation.

I'm old enough now, you would've thought I'd be grown up already. But you would be wrong. I managed to drop an oyster in a martini glass tonight. Clumsy, FTW.

look into my eyes and feel a strong desire to tweet

If you subscribe to this blog's feed, you may not have noticed my semi-regular twitter updates as follyblaine on the main page. I wouldn't say I tell secrets exactly, but I totally do. Secrety secretive secrets.

Like, I share how you can download A Confederacy of Dunces for free from audible.com through tomorrow. If you haven't read it, you should check it out. Great book.

Or I link to this incredible demonstration of SixthSense Technology. We are living in a glorious future my friends, where even your shoes can play pong on public transit.

Watch and be amazed.

I admit I am far behind the times with this whole thing. I don't even have a data package on my phone to tweet whenever the mood strikes, so I must save up my pithy wit to impart at a more convenient hour.

Spontaneity is dead. Long live spontaneity.

I have no plans to cease over-sharing past 140 characters. It is my life's goal to say many things without saying anything at all. Twitter is just another means to a happy end.

A birthday and synchronized swimming

Pesky sun is shining directly on my monitor, making it difficult to read the screen. Don't let it fool you though, it's only thirty degrees out there.

Today is Jeremy's birthday, so I expect we will be doing something he wants to do. I may make a kahlua cake and he may force me to ride around on the back of his motorcycle. We do these things for love.

We've been playing World of Warcraft again. He plays a druid; I play a rogue. This is handy because we can both stealth up to creatures and then beat the crap out of them. We hit 38 last night and I would like to see us at level 40 before Monday -- or at least before the winter fest holiday starts on the 15th in-game. As you can see, the stakes are high.

For an hour this morning I watched synchronized swimming on the Canadian station. I was surprised to find it fascinating. When the China team made a snake out of their arms and legs and then rose out of the water... wow. I discovered strong feelings I didn't know I had about the scoring process, particularly when the judges marked them lower than (I thought) they deserved. Also, I found myself wondering who was the first person to think this was a good idea -- I mean, it's cool they took the concept and ran with it to create this physically demanding, artistic experience, but how did that person convince others to do it too? And then make it an Olympic event no less?

Done

I finished writing "How to Weigh the World" and mailed it off this morning. I hit the point of editing where everything started to look like crap and knew I couldn't look at it anymore without damaging it. I get a little scissor happy...

So that's it then. I'll hear back in six months. Guess I should find another project or risk falling back into the soothing arms of World of Warcraft.

It caught me

Some fuzziness has latched itself to mi cabeza. I pretended not to notice its coming when I tripped over a single step in the garage, without lifting my feet, to land hard on my knees. (Equilibrium gone!) Or the random achiness. That should have been a clue.

I also pretended not to see it when I left for work yesterday morning and avoided the mirror. However there is no avoiding the helpful mirror voiced by people you meet throughout the day, who took one look at me and said, "You look sick." I said, "...Thanks?"

So I trudged to the bus tunnel, rode the long bus home, fell in bed, and slept. And slept.

This morning I am better, but starting to cough. So I will take a legitimate sick day and allow myself to be legitimately sick. It is for the best, I guess.

Who knew?

I love my house. I love there are no neighbors above me or below me or tacked onto the side. I do not have to load quarters into a slot to pay for laundry. I can take a shower or run the dishwasher whenever I feel like it. (I have a dishwasher!) I can paint a wall or buy a new light or change the landscaping without asking approval from anybody.

The freedom is intoxicating.

Looking for new lighting makes me happy. Thinking about getting the ceilings scraped of popcorn, redoing the downstairs 1/2 bath, and shopping for curtains -- these are the new highlights of my day.

A half hour ago I bought curtains online. I am still riding that high.

Jeremy and I have lived together in apartments since 2000. Nearly a decade, rounding up, of barely functioning appliances, dirty carpets and white walls. I feel like we have earned this and that makes it even sweeter.

This post is not meant to tempt fate or gloat. We are all a medical emergency away from bankruptcy -- luck can change. But right now, I am happy all of the things we've done have led us to this place.

Now I just have to be better at keeping it clean.

Four pages left

I need to get my play in the mail in the next few days but this last part is slow going. I tend to lose steam right before the end of something -- it's a documented character flaw. This morning I wrote a page of speech -- dense stuff, though hopefully only dense as in space it takes on the page and not intellectually dense.

Maybe I should specify on the list of characters that the main character must be very very hot and always appear on stage in a yellow string bikini and impossibly high heels.

That should take the audience's mind off this *yawn* science stuff.

Yep, just call me the master of illusion.

Only nerds need view

This is not new. I expect you've seen it, but it is making me laugh this evening: "Do you want to date my avatar?" music video:

If the video does not embed, you can watch it here.

Still not done

Gah. I did not set out to write a drama, but damn if this play is not wrenching some weird crap out of me.

On second thought, that does not sound like a fun night out.

How about uplifting humorous weird crap?

Five pages to go.