NaNo used to be an off-brand Tamagotchi

I decided about a week ago or so that for the first time ever, I’m going to participate in NaNoWriMo this year. In case you haven’t heard of it, November is National Novel Writing Month, and every year, there’s a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel from midnight on November 1st and have it completed by 11:59:59 PM November 30th. I haven’t written fiction since I wrote my last fanfic last December, so this is definitely going to be a challenge for me. Even my longest fanfic was only 5 chapters and 5,431 words (I just checked). Writing something ten times longer is going to be interesting simply because I have commitment issues when it comes to my writing. I blame Power of the Pen for this. I kick ass at short stories, but if you want me to write for more than 40 minutes at a time, forget it! At least with NaNo, I don’t have to share my novel if I don’t want to. The contest is simply about length, not necessarily quality. Although, this is me we’re talking about, so anything less than perfect doesn’t satisfy me, but I have a feeling that once I get into this, I’ll be singing a different tune. When I wrote fanfiction last fall, I always felt pressured to write well because I had so many people listing me as a favorite author. And if I was going to put something I wrote out for the world to read, I wanted it to be something I could be proud of, at least in technique. Even if you mock fanfiction, I think you’d agree that my stories were good. The only difference between good fanfiction and a novel is that fanfiction reuses characters created by someone else. It’s like a sequel to a movie. Anyway, even though you can write fanfiction for NaNo, I’m not going to do that. For one thing, I love NCIS, but I just don’t think I can write 50,000 words on it. Plus, I want to try something completely different.

To help me prepare, I have some ideas of what I want to write about floating in my head, and hopefully this weekend I can draft an outline before NaNo starts Monday morning. I’ve also downloaded a new word processor called Focus Writer. Actually, it’s what I’m writing this entry on, just so I have practice on using this thing before I attempt something serious. It’s fantastic. It’s an incredibly simple interface, and you can use your own pictures as a background image. I’ve selected a calming beach scene. You can also change the size of your writing space and the opacity of it. I want to be able to see the ocean behind my words, and since this isn’t a distracting type of picture, I can get away with it. The best part is that it’s full screen! No temptations of little buttons at the bottom of my screen on the toolbar. If I need the toolbar, I can get to it, but it’s not in my face. Ooh! I know! I’ll take a screen shot of what I’ve written so you all can see what I’m talking about. It’ll be one of those pictures in a picture thing, like the intro to Modern Family.

Spiffylicious. (ooh, that’s a new one!)

I also need to update my writing playlist. Right now, it’s a lot of super sad songs, and while I think part of what I’ll be writing will be sad, it’s not going to be nearly as depressing as what I wrote a year ago. Probably because I’m not nearly as depressed now. Go figure!

Oh, and before anyone asks, I’m not going to share the details of my writing. Maybe after the novel is done, but I make no promises. It’s a very scary thing to pour your heart and soul into something artistic and then have it insulted, kicked around, and spat on. I should know, I had quite possibly one of the strictest flute teachers known to man. Anyway, I’m taking the stress of “being perfect” out of the equation. If I do share my novel when it’s done, it’s only going to be after I edit it. I may throw you all little nuggets here and there, but don’t expect a daily (or weekly!) update on what’s going on in the details of my book. I feel comfortable saying how many words I’ve written, or vague things such as how I’m feeling about what I’m writing. I will tell you this much: what I plan on writing about is loosely based on personal experiences, which is why I’m so guarded about it. We all know what happens when things based on real life (even if it’s real life fictionalized) get published. Go watch the movie Music and Lyrics and you’ll see what I mean.

One final thought before I drift into dreamland (yup, totally not posting this before I go to sleep. If you’re reading this, I wrote last night to help me relax and get to sleep. It’s working). I know I’ve been a smidge sporadic with a posting schedule as far as blogging goes. I honestly don’t know how much I’ll want to blog for the next month, or even if I’ll have time. Of course November is a super busy month for me with school things, plus Thanksgiving is thrown in there, and, you know, LIFE. So don’t be worried if I don’t blog at all. But please be pleasantly surprised if I fit an entry in here or there.

Peace, love, and fiberbeds!

~ Christine

P.S. So when I was saving this, I noticed that Focus Writer has a daily goal feature that tells you how close you are to completing your daily goal of writing, in either time or word count. I’m at 88% with this entry, but right now the daily goal is only set at 30 minutes.

oh hai, zombie lover!

I'm becoming nocturnal. This has been a gradual process since I started grad school a month and a half ago. It started off by going to bed at midnight, then 1 AM, then 2 AM, then 3 AM, now I'm drifting towards consistently going to sleep just before 4 AM. I need to adapt back, but when I sleep until noon, it's really hard to go to sleep twelve hours later. Plus the idiots who live in the apartment next to me like to "Open and Close Our Door Until 3 AM" so unless I'm exhausted, I lay there and hear them all night long.

A possible side effect of my newfound sleeping pattern is the return of everyone's favorite: Crack Dreams!

This particular dream happened two nights ago. I was in a big house, kind of like the ones you would see in Colonial Williamsburg, but swankier. Naturally, I was wearing a kickass poofy dress with a corset, and I looked awesome. But I was really sad. Apparently my boyfriend (who unfortunately was not anyone distinctive, just a generic guy) had died, and this was his funeral. So I'm sad and weepy, and all sorts of people there are comforting me, when all of the sudden, Dead Boyfriend's arm begins to move. At first, I thought he was just settling, when I realized that this made no frigging sense, and that yes, he was coming back to life! I practically toppled him over as I went to hug him as he was climbing out of his coffin, and just as I was about to kiss him, somebody in the crowd screamed, "No! Don't!" Apparently if you kiss someone who has been embalmed and comes back to life, it kills you. Something about what they use to embalm bodies... Dream Christine wasn't paying close attention to this lecture. Oops. Naturally, I'm pissed. My dead boyfriend dies and comes back to life, but I can't kiss him because he was embalmed? What the hell! Also, he apparently was an organ donor, so he was missing some vital organs, but he apparently had enough to get by. He looked a little gray and for some reason, he was dusty, but other than that, he was the same as he was when he was alive the first time. So we try to leave the house, but it's a huge place, and we get lost. As we wander around, we hold hands and I start to think how wonderful my life will be now that he's back. And then he drops dead. For real this time. I'm not sure what caused him to die this time, probably the lack of vital organs. Just as he's fading, I remember that if you kiss someone who's been embalmed, you'll die too. So I frantically start kissing him, but it's too late. He's already dead without me.

I had a bad feeling in my gut for most of yesterday, and now that I think through this dream, I completely see why. 1. I might be insane. 2. My Dream Boyfriend died TWICE in one dream! 3. When I wanted to be with him alive and dead, I couldn't. Sad day.

~ Christine

Christine O'Donnell is NOT me... really.

My name is special. It always has been. Since I was in third grade and Neil O'Donnell was a football player for the Steelers, I've known that my last name is kind of a big deal. Then Rosie O'Donnell popped onto the scene. She was irritating, and a loudmouth, and then she came out as a lesbian (shocker, right?). She's thankfully faded into the background over time. Next came Chris O'Donnell. Initially, I didn't care much about him. Now, I like him a lot on NCIS: LA, even though the show itself pales when compared to the original NCIS, but whatever, he's a decent guy.

About two and a half years ago, I Googled myself. We've all done it, and quite frankly, it's the smart thing to do in case you share a name with an ax murderer and you're trying to get a job. (I was actually given that advice at a job fair last fall.) Usually, my UD website would pop up when I typed my name in, but this time, a website for another Christine O'Donnell came up first. I was a little relieved because I hadn't updated my personal website in awhile. So I clicked on the link and looked through her page. I got that she was from somewhere on the East coast, and that her political views were the polar opposite of mine, but I pushed it aside, figuring that I wouldn't hear about her again.

Clearly, I was wrong. I found an email from my mom from the fall of 2008, telling me how she had found the other Christine O'Donnell's website. But this was old news to me, so I didn't think anything about it. She wasn't affiliated with my political party, and she wasn't from my state, so what's the big deal?

The big deal is that I'm sick of it. Maybe it wouldn't bug me so much if I didn't already go through years of being teased about "being related" to Rosie O'Donnell, or being called McDonald. Maybe if Christine O'Donnell wasn't completely crazy, and the media wouldn't have so much to pick on her about, I wouldn't be so bothered. Maybe if I didn't have to remember which businesses don't like the apostrophe and which require it for my name to show up in their database, I wouldn't care. But with all of those things combined, I do care, and it does bother me.

Unless your name is Sarah Palin, Monica Lewinsky, Hillary Clinton, or you share a name with any other scandalous (or publicly ridiculed) person, you don't know what this feels like. How would you like it if people hear your name and the first thing that comes to their mind is a woman who not only doesn't masturbate, but speaks publicly about the evils of masturbation. Or a woman who dabbled in witchcraft (which isn't necessarily a bad thing, media moguls!) and went into hiding for a week after that became public knowledge. Or a woman who went bankrupt, foreclosed on her house, and then used campaign funds to buy a condo? The next time you think about writing something about Christine O'Donnell on my Facebook page, or tweeting it, or emailing, or even telling me about it, I want you to think about your purpose. Are you telling me this to make me feel better about myself and my name? Or are you saying it to draw even more attention to someone who doesn't deserve all the attention she's received? Believe me, if there's something else that comes out in the news, I'll know about it. Come on now, I spend all day online. There's no way I could miss something about her. And if I want to know about it, I'll read it for myself. But sometimes I don't want to know. So please, let me be the one to decide what I do and do not know about Christine O'Donnell. Besides, I generally don't like to have other people spew political things my way... why would Christine O'Donnell be any different, just because we happen to have the same name? Stop writing about her on my wall. Stop the tweets. Stop the emails. Just stop.

~ Christine

unleash the (fat) dragon!

It's 3 AM and I'm wide awake. I hate how I'm ready to go to bed at 7 PM, and then I get a second wind and end up staying up half the night for no real reason.

Anyway, tonight I watched an episode of Millionaire Matchmaker and it's sent me on a lovely tornado of self-loathing. Normally, I love the snark that Millionaire Matchmaker brings to my life, but on tonight's episode, one of the millionaires was pretty chubby. No biggie, right? Except that you could tell the guy was super embarrassed about it and for crying out loud, he own a multi-million dollar MUFFIN business! (I never thought I'd say those words.) Anyway, one of the potential mates that was selected for him was a gym bunny and she was selected because she said she'd make a heavy guy go to the gym with her. Um, what? Call me crazy, but if you love someone, you're not supposed to want to change them, and if you do want to change them, then you're never going to be in love. Relationships 101.

Of course, instead of reacting like a normal person and feeling horrified for this girl, I reacted like the insecure skinny girl trapped in a fat girl's body I am. I've spent the last hour researching diets, fitness regimes, how to make certain body parts look skinnier than they are, and I even posted a question about which unattractive body part on a girl guys find least attractive. I measured my chest/waist too. I got too depressed by the numbers to even get to hips. I finally told two of my friends over the weekend what I weigh (only because one of them said her weight first, and even though I weigh more than she does, it gave me a smidgen of confidence) and they were both shocked by what I weigh. Apparently the number on the scale isn't an accurate representation of what I look like. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Between seven years of figure skating and seven years of marching band, I've built up some serious muscles. They aren't going away either because they're in my legs and anytime I try to do cardio to lose fat, I end up working those muscles again and they go back to their happy place of being all large and toned. I realize that having muscle is an advantage because I can eat more than someone who weighs my weight and is mostly fat, and I'll burn off what I eat and she won't, but it still sucks. I still don't like what I see, in myself and on the scale. It's like every time I think about what I look like, I get bigger and bigger in my mind, like that kid in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

I'm also freaking out because I'm slowly starting to venture out in the world of dating again. I've never been this fat and found a boyfriend. I've never even been close. I always gain weight when I date someone, so if this is my starting point... eek! I don't know if I ever mentioned this, but I did reactivate my profile on OkCupid. Mostly it's been fruitless. Either the guys are creepy or not interested. But there have been a couple who I wouldn't mind dating. I just feel so ashamed of myself because even though I accurately represent myself in my pictures (they're all from the last year) and I haven't changed weight now in a year, I kind of wonder if these guys are really looking at my pictures. I mean, if I was a guy and I had to choose between a girl who looked like me, and basically anyone else, I'd probably go with the someone else, with a few exceptions. I'm starting to get to that dangerous point with a guy where we should probably meet in person, but I'm absolutely terrified to. He seems so nice and he's musical, and smart, and all-around amazing, but he's also really skinny. I bet you anything that if we do ever meet in person, it'll be the last time. And that's really unfortunate. I just wish I could lose 20 pounds in a week and not die. That would seriously solve my problem right now. The fact is, I don't know how to lose weight without doing damage to myself. I've tried everything I can think of. I've done Weight Watchers (twice! Jennifer Hudson lies... the most weight I lost on it was 6 pounds.) and I've been on Sparkpeople for ages. I've tried doing more cardio, eating less dairy, cutting out all desserts, and of course my personal favorite: the Diet Coke and crackers diet. I'm joking about that last one. Kind of. I've starting drinking water like a fish. I average around 72 ounces a day, not counting water absorbed in other drinks and food. It's doing nice things for my skin, but it doesn't fill me up. That's another lie I've been told.

So if you're a nice person, please help me. I'm out of ideas and I can't take looking like this much longer.

~ Christine

And Now For A Film From The Year Of My Birth...

This is what's keeping me entertained tonight:

It's strange... I've never seen Mark Harmon talk so much in a role... or be such a slacker!

Since I last wrote there have been some big changes in my life. I bought two Chinese Dwarf Hamsters last week. They're absolutely adorable and I named them Tony and Ziva. They're both girls, but when I talk to Tony, I refer to him as a male. I just can't emasculate DiNozzo that much. Anyway, here's a picture of them:

They're still scared of me most of the time. Ziva's especially skittish. Tony's always the first one to come investigate if they're both hiding from me in their bedding. But I've been able to hold both of them for a few minutes at a time and they've both groomed themselves (which hamsters only do when they feel completely safe) while I'm holding them. 

I've also acquired 14 new movies, plus Pirate Radio (I bought it the first week I was here), and two seasons of Full House. When I went to UD for Bandcoming, Second Time Around got a lot of my business. Then last weekend, Hannah and I went to Five Below, which is a trendy dollar store up here, and they had a $5 movie section, which is where I found Summer School and Borat. I've never seen Borat, but I watched it last night. It was interesting, but I'm glad I only spent $5 on it. 

Jackie and Brenda are coming up to visit this weekend! I'm really excited. I only had friends from home visit me twice in undergrad, and both times were for WGI. Plus, I really miss my friends and having a halfway decent social life. We're going to see the special screening of Beauty and the Beast, and then that night we're going up to Case Western to see Katie in The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told aka The Gay and Lesbian Adam and Eve Story. Then the next day we're going to the Akron Art Museum for a bit before Jackie and Brenda go back to Columbus. It's not a long visit, but it's better than nothing, and I'll be back home a couple of weeks later for the Circleville Pumpkin Show. 

~ Christine