The Con

It's been a long few days -- reading facebook status updates, being jealous, trying to tame the envy, reading more updates, becoming more jealous, trying to keep a lid on the envy and failing...

Sigh.

I miss the Con (The Golden Crown Literary Society Convention), a four-day long event filled with exciting workshops for writers/readers/editors, award ceremonies, games, a dance party, and tons of impromptu merriment and debauchery. Put a ton of fun-loving ladies in a room and watch the fun begin.

For me, being there as a writer is only a small part of the event. Going is more about being with friends and peers. I love the workshops, but I love the meet-and-greets more. I love the awards, but I love the dance even more. In short, I really, really, really miss my GCLS Con buddies.

I keep thinking that I should be there. Why aren't I there? Why am I sitting in my room instead of having drinks poolside (even at 1 a.m.)?

Life forces you to make hard choices sometimes. And the choices I had to make this summer were good -- but very hard. I decided to be a teacher. That takes lots of training and commitment and can't be blown off. I've sacrificed a lot of time with friends and family around here. But it really just hit me today how much I gave up.

In the long run, I hope my choices will allow me to never miss another GCLS Con. I'll have summers off. I won't be horrendously broke. I'll be prepared.

So have fun, ladies. I'll see you next year. Please post pictures.

What happens when you don't blog?

... You lose your password and have to spend an hour trying to figure out what it is.
I set up this blog under a special e-mail, too, one I don't access very often. In fact, that e-mail account has been deleted. Whoops. But I eventually puzzled it out.
In other words, I'm baaaaack!
Okay, here are some quick highlights:
I'm definitely not going to GCLS Con this year. It's a real bummer. I love being around my writing peers and lovers of lesbian fiction. But I have two good reasons for not going:
1. I simply don't have the cash. However, I'm saving for next year -- got $17.32 in the piggy bank so far.
2. I'm currently in training to become a middle school teacher.
Yes, you read correctly. Ladies and gents -- yours truly is going to be put in charge of educating future leaders.
Bwaaaahahahahahahahaha....
(That's right. I passed my content test for Generalist 4-8 (English Language Arts and Reading, Math, Social Studies, and Science). I was terrified and didn't sleep the night before. My score: 286 of 300. That's a 95 average, folks. You only need a 240 to pass.)
Seriously, though, I'm really excited. I have a million ideas. Give me math -- I'll make them love it. Science? Heck yeah, we'll discover great things together. Language arts? You bet. Social studies? I finally memorized the Pledge of Allegiance and The Star Spangled Banner, so I'm ready to rock.
I've got my classroom rules all ready to go.
Except I don't call them "rules." Way too negative. Those laundry lists of do-nots always turned me off as a kid, and I don't intend to have any of those. My don'ts are implied in a much more positive statement.
Check it out:

CLASS EXPECTATIONS
Discover. Commit. Soar. Enjoy. Grow.

Come to class with a learning attitude
Be prepared, alert, polite, and eager to discover new knowledge.

Always do your best
Commit to working hard and never giving up.

Keep an open mind
Everyone wants to be respected, so be respectful. There are no bad questions and opinions in this class. Stretch your imagination, and let your ideas soar.

Have fun
Learning is easy if you have a positive attitude and are willing to enjoy sharing ideas.

Love your school
Be strong, proud, and productive for your community! We grow together as a team.

So there you have it. Good things are happening. My brain is being stuffed daily with tons and tons of information. I'm tired -- exhausted, really. Completely swamped. But this life-long love of learning all kinds of new stuff is finally going to be put to seriously productive work. And I can't wait.
Now, this doesn't mean I've given up on reading. Far from it! Having summers off is going to be fantastic for my writing ambitions. You just wait... I'll crank out a book or two annually. That's the goal. So hang in there. I'll give ya'll a short story here and there until next year.
Thanks for dropping by and have a fantastic week!!


P.S. I QUIT SMOKING!
Finally free, since June 1, 2009. I have previously "quit" but never really conquered the addiction -- always ended up sneaking cigs weekly at parties or with certain friends. I always used the crutch of "but cigarettes and alcohol" or "cigarettes and writing" go together. Not anymore. It's done.
I offically broke up with Marlboro Lights.

I've been...

...completely swamped lately.

It's crunch time for many of us co-eds. You gotta get in all those projects, term papers, extras, and still have time left to study for an exam every other day. Yeah, it's that kind of busy.

But it's not like I haven't had any fun lately. Sarah and I managed to sneak out of town for a few days a couple of weeks ago. We drove four hours north, north-east to Beaver's Bend Resort and Park in Oklahoma.

(Beaver's Bend... *giggle*)

We stayed in a cabin just outside the park with a few of our friends. And we had a blast fishing for trout. We actually caught some, too. They made for a very yummy dinner.

That park is absolutely gorgeous. It was perfect -- not too far away, not too expensive, not too crowded or commercialized. I can't wait to go back. And I hang on to the thought of that beautiful forest and river when I get too stressed.

Thank you, Sarah. I needed that.

Ask me how I get through the day...

... and I'll tell you that for now it involves a lot of coffee, Red Bull, sugar, or any other energy-inducing substance I can get my hands on.

Today's menu:
One giant Red Bull, two cups of coffee, one chicken wrap from Sonic, one Cliff Bar, one Mountain Dew, one Milky Way bar, and one cranberry-raspberry martini.

Reread the above menu. Note the excess of sugar, caffeine, and a serious lack of anything decent. That's how you know you're back in college.

When I graduated three days after my birthday in December, 2004, I had an attitude along the lines of, "My Alma mater can kiss my a**! I'm never going back to school. Not for a master's degree. Not for anything."

Sometimes, when I remember thinking that, I kinda smirk and chuckle. Then there are those days when I groan in despair and can't help but wonder what on earth I was thinking when I enrolled back at UTA in January 2008.

It's hard -- telling my peers I'm back. I ran into a girl the other day that I haven't seen in four years and her comment was very matter-of-fact, "I didn't think you'd still be here. You were going to rock it out with the journalism thing."

(What are you still doing here? Hello?!)

I'm not still here. I'm back. For better or worse. If I'm going to jump career tracks, better now than later, right? Right.

That doesn't make it easier.

For now, I'd be incredibly grateful if the damned mid-terms could be over with already. Until then, I'll stick to my co-ed diet of Red Bull, candy bars, and chicken wraps.

The only thing that's missing this time around are the bi-weekly hangovers and all-nighters. Oh, and the last-second cramming that is a result of too much time at the bar and not enough time cracking the books. In so many ways, the last five years of your twenties DO make all the difference.

Oh, and forget about running and writing this week. I'll play catch-up next week -- that sacred co-ed week -- SPRING BREAK.

My "AWKWARD" Folder

A facebook conversation leads me to this blog entry. We were discussing whether writing at Starbucks is too distracting. There was some talk about rowdy children and teenagers.

I nearly always write in a social setting. I can’t focus if it’s too quiet. Silence is my distraction, my reason to pack up the laptop and call it a night.

Without the noise to stimulate my imagination, my laptop turns into this big white screen that freaks me out and forces me to reject even the most ingenious sentences as “seriously lame.” I’ll sit there – typing, selecting, erasing… sighing in exasperation, typing a new sentence, selecting, rejecting… cursing, and snorting self-deprecatingly – until finally reaching a breaking point that results in me jumping up to get away from the freaky white screen with its annoyingly blinking curser only to knock over the coffee mug, spilling half the hot stuff all down my favorite pair of jeans while the Husky nearby darts out of the room, clearly having decided that I’ve lost my damned mind.

Silence is bad.

So instead, you’ll find me sitting by the river near downtown Fort Worth – lots of noise from Interstate 30 – at Starbucks, IHOP, or occasionally at a college dive in Arlington. I just need a decent backdrop. In my head, it’s just buzz noise to kill the silence. If I’m stuck (writer’s block, grrr!), I can people-watch or pay attention to the way people speak. Either way, it’s a good study and beats freaking out over spilled coffee.

Sometimes, though, after writing a few paragraphs or a few pages, I’ll “come back to the present,” and catch a snippet of conversation out of context. Usually it’s just random junk – pets, kids, work, diets, fashion, whatever.

And then there are those other snippets of conversation. You know what I’m talking about.

I have a folder on my laptop. It’s called “AWKWARD.” Oh, yes. I’m that writer. The one who will jot down whatever weird, awkward thing you just said. And tonight I’m going to share my Top 15:

· "I get hot every time I see him, if he wasn't my preacher... Well, you know."

· "... I found him in the bathroom and he had two tampons shoved up his nose!"

· "Oh, come on. I know she's your sister, but she's way hot. You can see that, right? Have you seen that? What do her tits look like?... Hey, man! Take it easy!"

· (Woman on her cell phone) "...It's not my problem if she didn't want to know. She shouldn't open *that* drawer. Everybody knows what's in *that* drawer... Are you serious? ... Cindy, *that* drawer is where you keep the fuck rag."

· "I spiked it with Vodka... Well, I wanted him to go to sleep -- that damned kid was driving me nuts with his Bob the Builder bullshit."

· "I think I saw my boss fart at my co-worker on purpose."
"How could you tell?"
"He was standing behind her and he bent over like this, strained like he was constipated, and then it smelled really bad."

· (Lots of mad giggling from two teenage girls). "He said it was gonna be great... you know... with an Altoid in his mouth down there. But it burned like crazy!!" (more giggling). "... and I was mad at him so I *shoved one up his butt*!" (roaring with laughter).

· "We were laughing so hard... My sister snorted, and then I snorted, and then Tina snorted, and then I snorted again and a great big wad of snot hit the table and Mom just about died."

· "Excuse me... Um, not to be rude or anything, but you have a rip in your jeans and I'm not sure if it's the fashion or if it's not on purpose, but your flesh is showing. Actually, it's kind of oozing out of your pants and my kid won't stop staring."

· "I don’t know why you get to sit on her lap. I want to sit on her lap. She’s my babysitter, Daddy!”

· “… I don’t know if we’re at that stage in our relationship where we can give each other enemas, honey.”

· (Another woman on her cell phone) “Ewww. That’s disgusting… He really heated it up in the microwave?...” (laughter) “…Well, maybe he won’t blow his wad early again, now that he’s had some relief!”

· “Yes, I know what he means when he talks about his junk.” (Long Pause). “Oh, I thought he was talking about all the stuff he has flying around his room. Why are the kids calling it ‘junk’ nowadays? It’s not ‘junk.’ It’s good stuff. ”

· “It’s not my fault she hasn’t password-locked her computer or that she doesn’t know how to hide her files, or erase her browsing history, or that she leaves her diary all wide-open next to the bed, or that she has a shoebox full of letters in the closet.”

· (Fraternity boy on his cell phone) “… Man, you’re not going to melt into the toilet. Trust me. It’s not physically possible. Don’t make me come pry your sorry ass off the seat, dude.”

Just Warming Up

Let me get the stats out of the way: My official time for the Cowntown 10K-run was 1:12:42. That time placed me in the bottom third of my division (F 25-29). About half the women who finished the 10K finished before me.

Some more stats: When I checked the weather first thing after crawling out of bed yesterday, it was 32-degrees outside with howling wind gusts of up to 40 miles per hour!! Yikes! The trees were rattling against the windows and a quick step outside sent me dashing back for additional clothes. Even after the sun came up, it was bitterly cold and miserable outside. I applaud every single person cheering the runners and all the volunteers brave enough to hand out water and pick up trash. I don't know how they did it.

What weather to have on a first official run! It had been nice all week —70s and 80s—and I'd laid out a nice short sleeve shirt and shorts. Ha! I ended up running in sweats and it still wasn't warm enough.

At least I finished the 10K (althought the temptation to chicken out was strong). Now I know what a real running event is like. And no matter what the weather does at the next one, it'll never touch the ice block that was downtown Fort Worth yesterday.

I could be really disappointed, especially since I've completed 6.2 miles in just under an hour several times before. My time yesterday worked out to an average of about 12 minutes per mile, which isn't terrible, but I can do better. The way I see my 1:12:42 time is this: It certainly leaves a lot of room for improvement. It wouldn't be that hard to shave off 10 or 15 minutes next time. And you better believe that I will.

Some women have planned to be married by the age of twenty-five, have bought a house with their significant other by the age of thirty, and have that first baby in the house by the age of thirty-one. Me—I wanted to birth a novel by the age of twenty-eight (and one more every other subsequent year), run a half-marathon by the time I'm thirty, and finish my first full marathon by the time I'm thirty-one. Hmmm.

I haven't figured out the baby thing yet (unless I'm allowed to count books and dogs as children). But I know that I love to run and can only improve from here on out. It's barely been four months since I started running for real. I think I can handle a half-mari before the end of the year. I've just got to get Lesson Number One in mind: Don't. Start. Fast. Because. You're. Excited. PACE YOURSELF.

So here's my first run report:

Mile One: I was really excited and took off running as though I were doing interval training. Before the first mile was up, my throat was completely raw from sucking in the freezing air, I had a terrible stitch, and my whole core felt numb (I never warmed up!).

Mile Two: I had to walk out my stitch for about 30 seconds before starting again at a much slower jog. I focused on my breathing this time and keeping it slow so I wouldn't have a repeat incident.

Mile Three and Four: A slow, steady jog. I'd wasted too much in that first mile. Nerves, I guess, but I'll learn. I got in a grove and was slowly picking up speed.

Mile Five: I love the hills. I'd been so worried about Seventh Street hill that I spent a lot of time working on my hill performance over the past month. This is where I picked up speed and felt strong, relaxed, and good. (My mantra on hills: It's not a hill, it's just another step).

Mile Six: I was tired, my left knee started aching badly, but I knew it was almost done. My favorite part of the run was those last two-tenths of a mile—seeing the finish line. Sarah, Monique, John, and Diana were screaming so loud that I started giggling and laughed my way accross the finish line.

Getting Over the Midday "Blah"

Today, I felt extremely "blah."

You know the feeling -- that sinking weight in your chest and tight shoulders, a head full of pressure, heavy arms and legs, fingers that don't want to type, eyes that don't want to open, and a stomach full of knots.

That's what I call feeling "blah." Others might call it feeling unmotivated, lazy, stressed, moody, or a combination thereof.

I don't get this feeling often. I've been working my butt off, sure, but mostly I don't let it get to me. I'm typically at peace with most everything around me, even with all the bad news (layoffs, the economy, people all around me freaking out). The meditating has been very good for me.

Today, though, I couldn't seem to shake the "blah" feeling until I resorted to some old favorite pick-me-ups combined with a few new tricks.

A fast, hard run to force the heavy feeling out of my limbs.
A long, hot bath after the run -- complete with herbal bath salts and soaps.
Playing Queen on the stereo at full-blast; dancing around my room to "We Are the Champions."
Thick lotions, filing my nails, applying a mud mask.
Re-reading that beautiful note my girlfriend gave me for Valentine's Day.
Cleaning the kitchen and fixing myself a tuna sandwich (I love sandwiches!).
Taking the Husky for a walk around the block and watching his tail wag excitedly.
Knocking out a couple of small assignments so I'm free to tackle the big ones when I have more energy and motivation.
Playing tug-of-war with the Husky and letting him win.
Making faces at myself in the mirror; not taking everything so seriously.
Reminding myself that I have accomplished so much in the last couple of years and will continue to conquer my fears and let go of my resentments.
Smiling at goofy facebook status updates (Cindy Tingley) and happy celebrations (Sarah Spieth).
And finally... cranking out 3,000 words for a new book.

That's how I beat the "blah" today, and I feel great -- ready to tackle my management and business law classes tonight.

I love you all. Have a great week!!