Monthly Archives: November 2011

Writing Woes…

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Argh. I’m having issues, man. I’m not happy with my WIP, Souljacker. I loved the idea. I loved it as I wrote 11k in 7 days. Lucy is wounded and snarky, but cute. Her voice is sharp and witty. I liked it even, for the first 20k. Then it started dragging its feet. I skipped a few days of writing, just avoiding it. I’m now at 35k and each word is like pulling teeth. With rusty pliers. And no laughing gas, even.

I know myself well; I do this pretty much every WIP. Some of them I give up on, are just halted indefinitely at 35k. Some of them I powered through and finished. I just need a moment to say…

Brain: AHLKFHLDSHKASD THE PAINNN! Why do you make me do this?! I hate it, I hate it, nonononononononooo! -flails like a 4-year-old throwing a tantrum because Mommy won’t let her get a Barbie doll-

-cough- Now that that’s over with. I know my solution. I’ve always known my solution. I need to push through it. I need to sit down, figure out where the heck I’m going with it. Outline the rest of the novel, scene-by-scene with Sticky Notes; transfer it over to a Word document. Write 1k or 1 scene a day, even if it sucks major eggs, deleting the Sticky Notes with each scene I check off. By Jan 1st (my goal-date, giving me 35 days at 1k a day = 35k = 70k (which is my usual length) I’ll have a finished book ready to go out for edits. By spring, I’ll have a shiny new story ready to share with the world, which I will more than likely love and forget all about the pain.

If I know this, why am I resisting (and complaining :P ) so much?

-off to wallpaper her screen with Sticky Notes-

Are You Who You Wanna Be?

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While browsing through my music, I found an old CD in a drawer, Switchfoot’s The Beautiful Letdown. And I of course had to listen to it. And this song really got me. Made me start thinking, wondering, dreaming. Am I who I wanna be? Right now, today? If nothing else mattered? Am I being me?

The long and short of it? No. I’m not. I know who I want to be, but to actually be there? It’s something I’m working on.

I’ve always been the kind of girl to be ashamed of what I like, even if it’s something I love. I think this is stemmed from the fact that I grew up in a very judgmental household. I’ve loved music since I was little, but my dad judged it. Hated it. Mocked it. Made me feel bad I was even listening to it to the point where I hid what I listened to. I only listened at night, played low or through headphones. I quit singing out loud because he would tell me to ‘not quit my day job’. So I’m especially sensitive.

Same with TV shows; as a kid, I was a hardcore Dragon Ball Z/Sailor Moon fan. I watched them religiously…until people started judging me. I didn’t take into consideration that there were other people out there, more fanatic than me. All I saw was the haters. I remember one time, around 10 or so, my friend and I were at Wal-Mart and she was excited to show me a couple of new DBZ toys. She pretty much had to drag me down the ‘boy’ aisle…and even when I wanted those toys, I played ‘cool’ and pretended it was stupid…why? Just in case someone judged me walking down the aisle. Why did those strangers MATTER to me?

But it’s something I’ve always done. I’m afraid of judgement. And you know what? I’m tired of judgement… What does it matter if someone thinks I’m a loser, if I’ve never met that guy in my entire life nor will I ever see him again? Yeah, it’s a lot diff when your siblings or parents or friends mock you, but usually then it’s in jest, not a serious “Dude you’re lame, get a life” sort of thing.

As a plus-sized girl, I’ve always felt like I should wear what’s expected of me, even if it’s Not Me. I’m a hater of stretch pants, but that’s what I wear, because they’re comfortable. But I hate them. My friend helps pick out my clothes, because if they look good on her, they’ll look good on me. And I love her for that–but our tastes are wildly different. She likes classier, frillier things.

Me? I’ve got a taste for the more punkish, layered stuff. I like jeans and studded belts and rainbow fingerless gloves. I like Day-glo orange nail polish and bright eyeshadows and heavy eyeliners. If I had the money to get it professionally done, my hair would be a different color every three months. I’m planning on buying teal Fishbowl dye for Christmas just because. I like the stuff that Hot Topic sells. Why? Idk. I just think it’s cute and it’s me. More me than I’ve been in a long time. Are people gonna judge? Hell yeah–they judge my little sister, call her emo because she likes wearing black. She’s not emo. She just likes the style. It’s who she wants to be. There will always be haters.

The only downside of that is, in our town? Cute clothes are for the people in size 6s and A-cups. Even if I hit my goal weight, a size 6, on me, would be skeletal. I could do a comfortable 12/14. But that’s not the point. The point is, I need to find a place that sells what I deem cute clothes, in bigger sizes. They have to be out there. So I’m on the search.

And yeah, clothes don’t make the person. But I’m learning to love the girl I am inside, the girl who bursts into Christmas songs, interchanging words with naughty ones, in the middle of July. I’m the girl who says random things just out of spontanety, laughs too much on a lame joke she’s heard three times already. I love to laugh, and I love to have fun… And if people mock me? I’m learning to get over it and stop being so sensitive. They mean nothing to me.

Are you who YOU wanna be? Why or why not? :)

And do you know of any awesome clothing lines that are cute AND plus-sized?

<33 ~kodi

Farewell, Friend

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As of today, our inside/outside cat, Thomas, has been missing for two weeks. He’s never been gone this long in the entire four years he’s been with us. I’ve had a post up on Craigslist, an ad/watch up at the shelter since the third day. What hope I had has diminished; I don’t think he’s coming back. I just hope that if he died, he didn’t linger, and that if he found a new home, he’s happy where he is. I just wish we could’ve had a goodbye. Closure, or something.

Thomas O’Malley came to us Thanksgiving of 2007, a big, Maine Coon-looking cat of maybe two years, starving. He had scabs all over from malnourishment. He had no claws, front or back, and he was neutered. We think someone either moved or dumped him in our addition. All we know is that he was a very sick and hungry boy. Mom started feeding him immediately and he bonded to her like glue, giving purrs and kisses. After it started snowing, we brought him inside, where he spent the winter, but he was never truly happy with house-cat life. By spring, he wanted back out. He became our garage cat, sleeping in at night and spending his days outdoors. Being outside was his choice.

Soon, the cat with no claws was bringing us moles, mice, chipmunks, and rabbits, some still alive. Mom would act put out, but she secretly loved that he brought her ‘gifts’. We encouraged him.

He started befriending neighbors–people would always stop to pet him on walks, they’d slow down so he could cross the street. Kids loved him. He had food bowls at different houses, but he always came home. He never stayed gone for more than three days. He was always back at the door with his girly little meow, lol.

It wasn’t until this year that Tom and I really saw eye to eye. He didn’t…well, agree with my affinity for hugging/glomping cats (not that any of my cats particularly agree to that! xP) But these last few months, we started bonding. He’d sit in my lap. I’d scratch, he’d purr. I got attached. I wasted four years not loving that cat to his potential. I took it harder than Mom when he disappeared. I cried for days, even longer than I mourned when my beloved Evee was put down this fall. I held onto hope that he’d come back, I really did. I put up ads, looked at the shelter. I even looked for a body around the neighborhood.

Thomas O’Malley just disappeared…

I miss him. If he’s still alive, I hope he’s well. I hope he’s warm and loved. And if he’s gone, I hope he didn’t suffer. I still have the tiniest sliver of hope that, by spring, he’ll show up…but it’s tiny.

I love and miss you, Tommy. We all do.