Thing I've Learned #36: Sometimes Your Costume Decides What it is For You

Best. Sleepover. Ever. Nora, Brittany, EB, Emily, and Sarah all came, and did...well, writerly things! We made shirts, which OWN. They all say This. Is. NaNo! somewhere on them, because we decided that that should be our catch phrase this year. Then we went around in a circle and talked about our novels for a few minutes. (EB decided to tape this.) This was rather amusing, for me, at least, considering I had just had a bottle of Mountain Dew and could hardly get a sentence out, much less and entire, cohesive summary of my novel. By this time it was nearly 3:00 AM, at which time I climbed up onto my desk and finally wrote my timeline. Why on top of my desk? Because it's the only way I could reach the paper taped up behind it. We slept like logs.

Sarah had to leave early the next morning, but the everyone else stayed for breakfast, and later, making the Facebook pages! Oh my gosh, most fun thing I've ever done! Mine currently reads:

Bailey Baudelaire Wow ;)

Marce Ancelet doesn't really mind washing Bailey's hair.
Bailey Baudelaire Oh, sure, as long as you get something out of it! =3
Marce Ancelet Damn straight.
Ma Marce, you have tonight off, but Bailey does not!
Bailey Baudelaire Killjoy.

Sanvi Isadore is reveling in the sunset.

Ciro Montecalm is enjoying a little quiet time with a friend.

Ha'ri had a nice day with one friend and is looking forward to a nice evening with another.

DeLacey Windsor is off to a ball. Oh, joy.
Kit Greene dislike
DeLacey Windsor No kidding.
Kit Greene No chance you could skip out? And come see me instead?
DeLacey Windsor No, and if you keep begging I'll never come.

I swear to god it is not me who decides what gets written there! They dictate, I write.

The aquarium yesterday was awesome, by the way. EB, Sarah, and I spent, I kid you not, approximately 20 minutes staring at the seahorses. I love seahorses! Truthfully, my love for them started as a mpreg fangirl fetish, and if you don't know what I'm talking about, don't ask. That aside, they're adorable. Especially the teeny tiny ones. They're oh, and inch or so long? CUTE. Then we stood in front of one of those awesome panoramic tank windows for a while. EB and Sarah were facing each other with their sides to the tank, and I was looking straight ahead at it. An enormous moray eel swam up behind them, and I tried to point it out to them, but they were talking. When they finally turned around, it opened it's mouth and bared its sharp, mean little teeth at us. We screamed. It was pretty funny. :D

My friends are coming over to go trick-or-treating in about an hour. Meanwhile, I'm starving and I have to straighten my hair. Apparently, I'll be Lucrezia Borgia. I'm not sure how this happened, but I assure you it wasn't MY idea! I really hate her. She's Princess Brat. But hey, I'll get a golden opportunity to make fun of her. "Oh Chiaro, I loooooooooove you! Chiaro, don't leave me, I'm a wimpy little girl who can't take care of herself! Waahhhhh, I have to marry that man and brother wants to hurt Chiaro! Wahhhh, my life is terrible because all the men I love don't love me, and the few that do just want to rape me! Wahhhh, I should jump off a balcony and put myself out of my misery!" Oh, please do, and put us out of our misery as well.


TOMORROW IS NOVEMBER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thing I've Learned #35: Entropy is NOT a Good Thing

Today being the last school day before Halloween, I wore a medieval dress complete with corset to school today. Sarah wore a southern belle gown complete with hoop skirt. We were by far the sexiest girls in the whole damn place!

I had another lesson today, this time on James, and oh my god my thighs scream every time I move. Tessa is a helluva lot wider than my little pony, so I had a hard time wrapping my tiny legs around her. And you cannot move your leg at all when you canter on James, or he will switch leads. Hence, I feel I must die now. James was really good today. He only refused twice, and it was my fault because I steered him crooked.

This is going to be the best long weekend EVER. Tomorrow Sarah, EB, and I are going to the aquarium...well, just because. And tomorrow night we're having a pre-NaNo sleepover! Which will be amazing. We're going to eat pizza, drink caffeine, and make t-shirts for us and facebook pages for our characters. (Ones on paper, so we can stick them up on our walls or something.) Saturday is Halloween, and Sunday...IS NOVEMBER!!! I'm so ridiculously excited it's sad. I'm absolutely dying to write about these poor guys that have be cooped up in my head since August.

Speaking of them, I'm especially in love with DeLacey and Kit today. Couldn't tell you why, I just adore them at the moment.

Mom made me clean my room today, in preparation for having my friends over. And guess what? There's a DESK under all that crap piled up around my laptop! Who knew! I couldn't care less if the rest of my room was clean or not, but I HATE when my desk is a mess. I just never do anything about it when it gets bad. So it gets worse. Stuff just kind of accumulates, and never goes away. Until a mother-imposed cleaning frenzy, that is.

3 DAYS 3 DAYS OH MY GOD!

Thing I've Learned #34: I Am a Messy Person By Nature

Well, it's still not pink. But I switched it again, because the other one was far too blah.

I got to make something on the pottery wheel in art club today! It was pretty much the highlight of my life. ;) Took me eight friggin' tries, (all during which Emily yelled at me for not wedging my clay enough, for making the wheel too fast, and then for sucking in general. =] ) but I made a pot/jar thinger. It's pretty awesome. I, and everything in the immediate area, was covered in clay. I consider this a success.

I rode Tessa in lesson today. I guess I forgot to mention, but I rode her last week too. She's the cutest little chestnut quarter horse mare. And oh my god, she doesn't refuse! I get so excited when I point her at a jump and she just goes. But good lord is she slo-ow! I'm so tired by the end of lesson I feel like I'm going to slide off her side into the dirt, haha. And James' nose is getting better. I didn't say he ripped it open on Saturday, did I? Oops. Yeah, we went to a horse show, and when we took him out of the trailer his nostril was torn open. I don't know what happened. I don't want to know what happened. But the inside of the trailer looked like a murder scene. He's perfectly fine, though. He didn't seem to be hurting too much, and now it's healing up just fine.

My novel became slightly more political. I am pleased, because you can only get so many words out of gooey romance and relationship angst. This is what I learned:
DeLacey is not DeLacey's last name after all, but his first.
Why is this significant? He's the youngest son of the prince.
To clarify:
The king, DeLacey's grandfather, has two sons, DeLacey's father and his brother.
The brother is jealous of DeLacey and his two brothers. (Why is it always the evil uncle? Why? Why?! Maybe I should name him Scar...)
DeLacey's older brothers are Lindsay and Ainsley. Yes, they are British.
Evil uncle AKA Scar has Lindsay assassinated.
Boom, DeLacey is now third in line for the throne.
Assuming the king, who is ancient, dies soon, DeLacey's father will become king.
Which makes DeLacey second in line for the throne.
Which puts his life in danger.

DUN DUN DUN!!!! The plot, she thickens!

Holy mother of God, FOUR DAYS!

Thing I've Learned #33: Good Girls Are Just Bad Girls That Don't Get Caught

I was sick and tired of pink. Can't tell you yet what I think of the new layout. I might change it again tomorrow. But at least it isn't pink.

I discovered a new website, via the NaNoWriMo site, today called textsfromlastnight.com.

I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life.

Now, I was raised to be a good girl, and despite my...guilty pleasures, a good girl I remain. But god, I have never wanted to get drunk as much as I did reading those. Here's a few:

"All I remember from last night is puking up a box of cheeze-its and the building catching on fire."

"You were licking his little sister's water colors and trying to paint with your tongue."

"I'm pretty sure there's seven mailboxes in our bathtub."

I don't know about you, but that sounds like fun to me. ;)

And speaking of guilty pleasure, Sarah and I got a hold of Cosmo yesterday. I hold to the theory that slutty magazines are a girl's RIGHT, be she slut or not. Besides, they're great research for my story. Or that's what I tell myself, at least.

My characters like to play a game called "dress up." This is where they magically pretend to exist in modern day. So, for example, the Phoenix is a night club that doubles as a brothel (think Moulin Rouge) and Aisha wears satin Christian Louboutin pumps. Marce was complaining loudly and obnoxiously today that there's nothing fun to do while drunk in 1400/1850, and so a round of modern dress up began, in which Marce wears leather pants and dances on the bar, and Bailey has to hold his hair back when he pukes his guts out the next morning. Glamorous, no. Story fodder, yes. And the clothes are much more fun. Because there are no motorcycle jackets in historical fiction. Nor are there low rise jeans or the previously mentioned designer shoes. Nor is there shower sex. I don't know how one can write a smutty novel without shower sex! And you know, Bailey looks surprisingly sexy in a sweater. So you know what? Because it would be an utter catastrophe to have to rework everything in my novel to fit modern times, I'll just go back and write parts of it later. Like Marce getting drunk off his ass. Because he's a total slut while drunk. Which can be WAY fun. ;)

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a math test tomorrow that happens to be the last grade of the nine weeks. FML.

6 DAYS. LAWD A MERCY!

Thing I've Learned #32: DCS Is Nothing to Sneeze At

Once again, it's 10:30 on a Sunday night, and I have yet to start my homework. I should really stop this, it's bad for my sleep patterns. (What sleep patterns?!)

But I had better things to do today, I swear! Sarah and I hung out for a nice, relaxing girl day. If you count beating the crap out of each other with lightsabers a nice, relaxing girl day. And novel chat. Hours of novel chat. We have established that Sarah is the godmother to all my boys, because she had as much of a hand in bringing them into the world as I did. Besides, they like her. She gives them sex tips. Oh, and we finally found a logical career path for Marce. He'll be training guards in hand-to-hand combat. It suits him.

Today I'd like to talk about a little something called Disney Childhood Syndrome, or DSC. DSC is a common, but serious condition where characters have had tragic pasts, often involving the death of one or more loved ones. This can have serious effects later in their life such as depression, desire for revenge, and distrust towards others. If your character is suffering from DSC, don't wait, get help now!

Pretty much all of my boys have bad, bad cases of DSC. Oh, where do I begin?! Aisha was beaten and raped by his father as an eight year old. Bailey's own brother sold him to the Phoenix. Sanvi's mother died when he was seventeen, leaving him alone. Marce has lived on the streets since he was ten, being frequently beaten and raped until he learned how to defend himself. Valentino is the bastard son of a nobleman, who got kicked out of the house when his father got married. The Swan was a sacred dancer for whatever religion it is he believes in, and god knows how he ended up at the Phoenix, but I'm sure as hell it wasn't pleasant. Ha'ri was fifteen when his entire village was slaughtered, and the men that did it took him captive and used him as a sex toy until they sold him to the Phoenix. Kit...I haven't the faintest idea where Kit came from. No wonder they're all a mess!

I baked cookies today. I like to bake. I brought my laptop downstairs to listen to music, and rocked out to Wynona, Disney music, and 3OH!3 while wrestling with frozen cookie dough. And then I watched School of Rock.

Way past my bedtime. And I need to do my homework. Oh joy.

7 DAYS UNTIL D-DAY.

Thing I've Learned #31: Sleep Is NOT Overrated

I have not been getting enough sleep lately. Yeah, it's my fault because I've been staying up late talking to Sarah about plotty things. But still.

This is what my characters are doing while I'm off to bed:

Let's see, midnight and polite society is just starting to wind down...

Ciro is taking a bath before going to bed.

Ha'ri, being a good servant, is helping Ciro wash his back and trying really, really, hard not to think.

DeLacey is lying in bed, fully clothed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Kit.

Desirata is throwing a royal temper tantrum.

Illari is taking the brunt of Desirata's rage and already thinking about what to put on the bruises tomorrow.

...while business at the Phoenix just starts to pick up.

Aisha is hustling down a hall with his skirts hiked up (cursing the goddamn dress all the while) with a needle in his teeth and a spool of thread in his hand.

Sanvi is whispering prayers under his breath while being undressed by a middle aged nobleman.

Marce is at the top of the stairs, leaning against the balcony railing and flashing seductive smiles at the two or three men down in the parlor.

The Swan (who needs a NAME!) is dancing in his room to synchronize his mind and body and lock away his emotions for yet another night.

Bailey is being felt up by a rather unattractive gentleman, wishing for Marce's hands instead.

Valentino is missing women.

Kit is bent in a way that would break a lesser man, and cannot get DeLacey off of his mind.

Ma is taking money, fluttering her eyelashes, and feeling the slightest bit sick and guilty in the pit of her stomach, because she remembers what it's like.

8 MORE DAYS.

Thing I've Learned #30: If the Notebook Doesn't Work, It Doesn't Work. End of Discussion.

Sheesh. It's not even November and I'm already behind with my blogging.

Speaking of November. I starting taking notes on my novel yesterday! SHEER EXCITEMENT. But on Wednesday, when I pulled out the notebook I was going to use, I took one look at it and thought, "I hate this." So I ran downstairs and informed my mother I needed to take an emergency trip to the office supply store to get one that wasn't revolting.

The notebook conundrum works like this:
One, the writer may choose the notebook. The notebook may be chosen for several reasons, least among them being size, design, or paper quality/design/style. When this happens, said writer often amasses a large pile of unused and unopened notebooks. I myself have 13, counting the one I hate.
Two, the notebook may choose the writer. When a writer has a story in mind and is in need of a notebook, they can go find one. This notebook must fit the story, whether by color, design, symbolism, it doesn't matter. But above all, it must feel right. Now this may sound a lot like the writer choosing the notebook, but it is not! I tell you true, you will eventually pick one up, and it will be the one.
Three, these two points are proven by the absolute, unshakable fact that if your notebook does not feel right, and you write in it anyway, your story will die. There is no way to get around this. It is certain.

Non-writers tend not to understand these things. Hence my mother was rather peeved that I forced her to drive me to the store.

Story notes are breathtakingly exciting. It's when you first began to catch a glimpse of your novel, ugly and awkward as a hairless newborn, but beautiful in it's potential. You start to work out your character's quirks, get inside their head, see what makes them tick. It's my favorite part, aside from the actual writing. So how about a little sample of what I jot down, and also a brief look at some of my characters?

The Girl- Long, silky blue-black hair, huge, huge blue eyes. Long eyelashes, winged eyebrows, fine features, full lips. Delicate frame and creamy skin.

The China Doll- Tight chocolate brown ringlets, glass green eyes. Porcelain complexion and thin, fragile looking body. Soft-spoken, shy, emotional.

The Angel- Perfect blonde curls, sky blue eyes that are slightly almond shaped. Angular features and a charming smile. Sweet, compassionate, and sees right through everyone.

The Fireball- Wavy dark red hair, mesmerizing green-gold eyes, dark, dark lashes and a smoldering gaze. Carefree, sexy smile and an attitude problem. Bold, mischievous, snarky, and foul-mouthed. His figure is lean and rough, but very sensual. Has a temper.

The Gentleman- Ash blonde hair with face framing bangs and gray eyes. Strong build but not stocky. Refined, sophisticated, and classy. All charm and polite speech.

The Swan- His complexion is honey and cream; honey eyes, cream skin, and sheets of honey-cream hair. Narrow face, long neck, and long limbs. Elegant and serene, every move is the epitome of grace.

The Exotic- Long jet black hair, dark skin, and piercing gold eyes. Lithe and animalistic, black tattoos wind across his body. Fierce but sultry.

The Kid- Thick, curly black hair, bright gray eyes. Mischievous, petulant, and trouble causing. Long, lanky, and extremely flexible.

A brief sketch on the boys of the Blue Phoenix, as referred to as stereotypes rather than names. But perhaps you know a little what they look like now? Providing you know which is which, of course. ;) Okay, so I'll tell you. Aisha, Bailey, Sanvi, Marce, Valentino, The Swan (goddammit he needs a name), Ha'ri, and Kit, respectively.

Nothing interesting happened to me today. Aside from the NaNote taking. Sorry. Despite the occasional snips I deign to post here, my life is generally boring. Hate to disappoint you.

Oh wait! Wait! Something interesting DID happen to me! Okay, so last night while my parents were out to dinner, I discovered this lovely show on the History channel called Sex in the Ancient World. The episode being about the sex trade in Pompeii. And I, being a good little writer, decided to watch it. For research, naturally. (When my parents got home I bolted upstairs with a glass of milk and a smile wider than the Mariana Trench.)
This is what I learned:
Pompeii was the home of the world's oldest known brothel.
Lupinara means "den of the she-wolves" in Latin, and was the term used to describe a brothel.
Romans craved sex for power, not pleasure.
Romans, in general, were whores.
The emperors did little to discourage this attitude. In fact, they encouraged it.
Hour well spent. Next was an episode about porn in ancient Egypt.
This is what I learned:
Egyptians thought sex graffiti was just as funny as we do.
Egyptians were, as EB would say, "Male chauvinistic bastards."
Gods are allowed to be open about their sex lives. Mortals are not.
Tattooing a chubby, ugly man on your thigh prevents you from getting STD's.
Egyptians had a serious hair fetish.
Egyptians wrote love poetry to rival Byron's "She Walks in Beauty."
Yet another hour well spent.

They talked about tattoos, which got me thinking about Ha'ri. By the way, if you haven't figured it out yet, everything leads back to my word babies with me. Anyway, so I was thinking about Ha'ri's tattoos (and texting with Sarah about this. At 11:30 at night. Oh lawd.) and how sensual they really are. The ones on his upper body are completely innocent, but on his hip and thigh...wow. Even before Ciro and Ha'ri are together, Ciro can't help the little lurch of lust in his stomach every time he sees them. And when they are together, well, Ciro can't keep his hands (and lips) off of them. And it's not what the tattoo is that makes it so irresistible. It's just a pattern of black dots that spirals around Ha'ri's body. It's the places it touches that makes it sexy. The inside of his upper thigh, in between his crotch and his leg, over his hip bone, and across his extremely lower back, about as close as you can get to his tailbone without being on his ass. Hot damn. No wonder Ciro can't help but touch him. Especially when Ha'ri gets out of the bath. And a drop of water just runs down the curve of his tattoo...

This post was super long to make up for all the short ones that I've being doing recently. =]

Quote of the Day: "She's got a face that could launch a thousand ships in the opposite direction."

9 more days! Ohmigod!

Thing I've Learned #29: Deadly Weapons Are Not Allowed in the House

Yesterday, I bought two lightsabers; Luke Skywalker's and Darth Vader's. I gave Vader's to my dad, naturally.

Today he killed my mother's house plant.

Right now, I am listening to the Ghostbuster's theme. Totally watching those movies this weekend... Tomorrow I start taking notes on my NaNovel. 11 more days!

Thing I've Learned #28: Irony Never Takes a Vacation

I have had the first episode of Warehouse 13 on my DVR for weeks now, and now that I find myself with a homework-less day, I'll be damned if I wasn't going to watch it! So watch it I did, and was reminded of the looming presence Irony has in my life. And yes, it does need to be capitalized. Now, I've seen all the other episodes. Just not the first one. I don't know why. So today I sat down to watch it. And it was about Lucrezia Borgia. Hello, Irony. I laughed my ass off. My parents yelled at me because they couldn't hear. They also gave me a look which suggested I was slightly off my rocker.

It's because I am.

Today I started reading No Plot? No Problem! It's the book Chris Baty, the NaNoWriMo founder wrote about, well, NaNoWriMo. I read it every year before November. And do you know what the funny thing is? I honestly don't remember a thing. It's like I have the memory of a goldfish.

EB (and Sarah) and I had an awesome time at the Halloween party last night. I wore a corset, Sarah wore a cape, and EB wore...a sweatshirt. Anticlimactic, I know. We painted James, and oh boy was he orange. He's still orange, in fact, seeing as it was a bit too chilly to wash him off. Oh, and we got to see Kate murder a pinata. That was fun.

James and I played tag today. He didn't really get the rules. He got the running away part. Just not the chasing. Not even when I bribed him with treats.

Ohmigod ohmigod two weeks until November!!! I am insanely excited! And still frightfully nervous about those sex scenes. I should probably get my butt in gear and practice, huh?

13 MORE DAYS.

Thing I've Learned #27: The Point of an Essay is to Say in Two Paragraphs What Could Be Said in Two Sentences

So here I am. Back from Austin, Texas. Let's talk a bit about what I've discovered. One, the very air smells like Mexican food. Two, they have Mexican restaurants like Florida has Chinese take out, i.e. two in every plaza. Three, there are no vampires. Four, all rental cars smell the same. As for the college, it was okay. I didn't love it enough to decide that it's definitely the place I want to go, but I didn't hate it enough to cross it off my list of possibilities.

Now that I'm home, I'll being doing homework all day. Yaaaaaay! I finished Founding Brothers, and now I have to write four essays about it. Actually two, because I did two last night, but still. As a writer, essays are my pet peeve. Get to the point! Say what you mean! Quit equivocating! No, I don't care what the thesis statement is! Ugh. I hate essays. I think they were invented to torture students.

On the bright side, the weather is WONDERFUL!!! It's finally fall! I can wear jeans again! Oh, hallelujah! I love fall. It's hands down my favorite season. Leaves changing (but not here in goddamn Florida,) weather cooling down, Halloween, NOVEMBER! Essays aside, my life is looking up! All my reading assignments are due tomorrow, so that means I can finally start reading the stack of books I got from Barnes & Noble three weeks ago. Two more weeks until November, and one more week until I can start taking notes on my novel. Two weeks until Halloween, and our epic pre-NaNo sleepover. Yes, life from now on is awesome.

This evening EB and I (at least I think EB is coming) are going to a Halloween party at the barn. We're going to paint Jame's orange and paint his mane and tail green, so he'll be a chubby pumpkin pony! He's going to be so CUTE! I miss him; I haven't seen him since...Wednesday? Or was it even Tuesday? Well, I'm anxious to see him.

My favorite thing about the NaNoWriMo website is the Procrastination Station. Every day, two topics from the forums are featured. They're often questions, like how to nail jello to a tree, or challenges, like write letters to your characters, or have them write letters to you. And this is precisely what I did. So, to give you some insight on my beloved word babies, I present Letters of Complaint to the Phoenix. I warn you in advance that's it's very long.

Dear Desirata,
You are a total bitch. You're utterly sexy, but I hate your guts, and it's no small wonder everyone else does too. I also find your personality cruel and your morals nonexistent. You're absolutely despicable for blackmailing Ha'ri to get him to sleep with you. And if you keep beating up Illari (who's head over heels in love with you, for some reason) one of these days he's going to snap and kill you in your sleep. If Ciro doesn't kill you first.
Go to hell,
Spices

Dear Illari,
Sweetie, why do you love Desirata so much? He's a cruel son of a bitch, and you know this better than I do because he beats the shit/snot/living daylights out of you. He'll only hurt you worse, sweetheart, so do yourself a favor and get out while you can. I know you're a good kid at heart, and you deserve better than him.
With love and best hopes,
Spices

Dear Sanvi,
Are you out of your freaking mind?! You can't be a priest, you're a prostitute! Honey, I love you, but can't you consider another career option?
Concerned,
Spices

Dear Marce,
Don't tell the others, but you're my favorite. I've always had a weakness for redheads. Especially really hot ones, and you're no exception. Could you be a little gentler with Bailey, though? His spirit is strong, but his body, not so much. But you know this, so stop hitting him, okay? He knows you think you're helping, but it hurts him, so quit. He's the only one that puts up with you when you go all bitchy, you know. By the way, he's falling in love with you. Just though I should give you a heads up.
Spices

Dear Bailey,
Oh, you're so adorable! Like a little china doll! I'd hug you if I wasn't afraid I'd break you! Just wanted to tell you that you have the patience of a saint for putting up with Marce's "moods." And hot damn, you have a kinky side, don't you, cutie pie?! Mmmhmm, I know what you did with Marce in that hallway two nights ago. I'm the author, dear, I see and know ALL. Keep it up, I need your smut for my word count. That aside, you should pursue a more emotional and less sex driven relationship with him. He does care about you, despite aloof appearances.
Spices

Dear Ha'ri,
I must say, you are a close second to Marce on the topic of sexiest. I love your tattoo, and Ciro does too. Speaking of, I would love it if you would tell me where you're from. I get the vague idea of a cross between Native American and Egyptian and would appreciate it if you could clear that up for me. I know you're not exactly used to the polite society and court life thing, but don't get so worked up about it. Calm down. And feel free to punch anyone who comes on to you because they know you used to be a whore. And I'm truly sorry about Aisha's death. I didn't intend for that to happen, I swear. Ciro will take care of you, promise. So stop running away from him.
P.S. Don't take your clothes off in front of him. I know that's normal for you, but it embarrasses him.
P.P.S. Don't kiss him either.
Be strong,
Spices

Dear Ciro,
Be patient with Ha'ri. Give him time to get the hang of things, and don't yell at him for doing things you don't like, i.e. not wearing clothes around the house. It upsets him. He's really very sensitive. Be gentle with him, he's been hurt badly before. He really only wants to make you happy. And I know you care about him. He cares about you, too. And did I mention he's totally hot for you? Whoops. I don't think I was supposed to tell you that. Uh, anyway, go beat up Desirata, will you? And keep looking for jobs for the boys at the Phoenix. They're too proud to admit it, but their really grateful for what you're trying to do to help them.
P.S. I know you're a virgin. You can't hide anything from me. *maniacal laughter*
P.P.S. Don't ever bring that up at the Phoenix. They will laugh themselves to death, and you will never live it down.
Spices

Dear Kit,
You act like such a little kid sometimes, you know that? I know you're the youngest and all, but wow, you really act like a brat when it comes to DeLacey. He finds your tantrums funny; I don't. Grow up a bit, okay? I know you have a massive crush on him, and I know he can be a bit of an ass, but I know he loves you, so stop being so pissy about the whole thing. Some words of advice: Don't piss off Marce. Just don't do it. The more you try to get DeLacey to sleep with you, the more he will resist, so stop trying. Quit jumping off the balcony and doing backflips down the stairs. You may be young but Ma is not, and you will give the poor woman a heart attack.
P.S. Where on earth did you come from? Did you just, I don't know, spring out of a hole in the ground? Tell me your backstory!
Spices

Dear DeLacey,
I know you're a marshmallow on the inside, so do yourself a favor and quit being an ass to Kit. TELL ME YOUR FIRST NAME, GODDAMMIT! Don't just sit there and smirk at me! Who do you think you are? Prince? Oh wait. You are, aren't you? Damn.
Frustrated beyond belief,
Spices

Dear Swan,
Honey, I've been playing nice too long, enough is enough. You have got to tell me your name! I can't keep calling you "The Swan." I rather like you, despite your lack of a proper name, if that's any incentive to tell. Oh, and I think your friendship/relationship with Sanvi is adorable!
Fed up,
Spices

Dear Aisha,
WHY, WHY GOD WHYYYYY?! You were NOT supposed to die! I loved you! Don't die, dammit! How dare you die?!
Heartbroken,
Spices

Dear Valentino,
I hate to be blunt, but what the hell are you even DOING here? You are by far my most boring character, no offense.
Get a life,
Spices

Dear Ma,
You are one freaking awesome kick ass lady. Keeping eight young men sane, sober, and in one piece is no easy task. Plus keeping the place spotless and food on the table! And beating the asses of anyone who hurts them. Hats off to you!
P.S. So, how many loads of laundry DO you do a day?
Astounded by your awesomeness,
Spices

Thing I've Learned #26: It's the Little Things in Life

I have no time at all to be doing this, because I have both a math test (which I'm worried about) and a Bio test (which I'm not) tomorrow, and I have a 200 page book to read and write four essays on by Monday. Oh, and I'll be gone from tomorrow afternoon until Sunday. Oh joy. We have Friday off, so my parents and I are taking a trip out to Austin, Texas (and you have to imagine I said that with a drawl) to look at a college, Texas Prairie University. Haha, oh I am SO funny. For those of you that didn't get it, it's okay. For those of you that did, quit reading vamp lit and go pick up a decent book, like Harry Potter or Paradise Lost. God. =] In all seriousness, we are indeed going to Texas. And I still have those essays to do.

Anyway. The point is, I had a relatively shitty evening, spending most of it doing homework. But I turned on the TV for a break, and what do I find? Howl's Moving Castle is on. Which is only my favorite movie in the world. Totally, TOTALLY, made my day.

I love the small, good things that magically make the big, bad things better.

Quote of the day: "The slushie war has commenced. None of us are safe."

17 days until NaNo.

Thing I've Learned #25: Andrew Jackson is a Neck Stealer

So, today, while frantically studying for a quiz we had in ten minutes, Sarah and I were reading our APUSH textbook. We came across a picture of Andrew Jackson. Sarah and I both thought he had a freakishly long neck. Next there was a picture of John C. Calhoun, who looks like Frankenstein's monster and has no neck at all. Sarah said that something ate his neck. I said, "Jackson stole it. Jackson has a long neck, he has no neck. Jackson was like, give me your neck." Insert creepy beckoning hand gesture here.

It was funny at the time.

For the past four hours or so, on and off, Sarah and I have been talking plot. We have established several things.
One: a sane, lucid, somewhat rational timeline.
Two: Kit and DeLacey play a twisted game of relationship chess, which often results in sex in awkward places.
Three: Ha'ri thinks role reversal is hot. He also has an extremely dirty mind. (Understandably)
Four: Ciro is shy, sweet, and gentle, but also very dense.
Five: Desirata is, and always will be, an utter ass.
Six: Dueling is dangerous! Don't try it at home, children!
Seven: Ha'ri's good intentions don't solve problems, they make them worse.
Eight: There is no logical career path for Marce.
Nine: DeLacey stole Kit's heart before either of them knew what was happening.
Ten: The kindest hearts can be born from the cruelest treatment.
That makes our conversation sound rather intelligent. But in truth, we talked an awful lot about Kit and DeLacey's sex life. Ha'ri and Ciro's too. xD I love my conversations with Sarah. Mostly because there is nothing we can say to each other that is awkward.

So that's what I did instead of reading Founding Brothers. Talked about whores and sex. Oh, November is going to be so interesting. 19 days until said interesting.

By the way, John Adams did, indeed, have children. Sarah. And my bruise is red-black-blue-green-purple. And quite lovely, if I do say so myself.

Thing I've Learned #24: No Fear!

I was at an away horse show this weekend, with my pony James. James is an extremely sensitive horse. If you're scared, he knows and then he'll refuse jumps or freak out or do something equally not good. So, when you ride him, you have to be reeeaaal calm. Now, James and I rode in 2' 3" jumper division this morning. I was terrified. He was at a new place, and he was freaked. As a result of his spookiness and my nervousness, he refused in the first class and I fell off. Second class, I thought, eh, okay, I fell off, it can't get any worse. He refused twice, but we got over everything and got fourth place. Third class, and there was no way in hell we were stopping. And we didn't. And we got third. Lesson(s) learned: Don't be scared. Don't fall off in wet sand. Don't trust a James. Don't gallop over your last fence, even if you're happy. Call your fences.

EB came with us to the show. Kate said she could be our groom. She kind of was. "EB, hold my dog." "EB, hold my horse." "EB, hold my water bottle." "EB, can you get my helmet?" While we were there, she and I saw a black Maserati, parked there, slick as can be. In the middle of a dirty farm without a speck of dust on it. Sexy, sexy beast car. And it kept moving. And no one else saw it but us. And then it disappeared when we were facing the only road it could have driven out on. EB and I are convinced we saw the Devil's car.

It was an hour or so drive back from the show, and upon returning a took a shower and have been doing homework ever since. Well, okay, I talked to Sarah and McKenzie on facebook. McKenzie and I made dinosaur and zombie noises at each other. Sarah and I argued about who was hotter, Marce or Ha'ri.

Let me tell you a little something about Ha'ri. He's the main character of my (crackish) NaNo, despite the fact that I talk so much about the other characters. He used to work at the Blue Phoenix, but now he works as a servant for Ciro, a nobleman who is the other main character. Together they make up the third couple in the story. Ha'ri is from some...desert tribe, I guess. I don't know, his people were conquered when he was fifteen, and he was captured and sold to the Phoenix. But I digress. He's got dark skin and gold eyes, and long black hair. And the coolest tattoo in the world. It's not a picture as much as it's a pattern of dots and lines and swirls, all in black. It starts on his right foot, winds around his leg, goes over his hip and lower back, wraps around across his stomach, back over his back and over his shoulder, and then winds around his left arm to his hand. Coolest. Tattoo. Ever. I told Sarah I'm probably going to end up drawing it on myself this November, just so I know exactly where it goes. And I digress again. Needless to say, with the whole exotic thing going on (yes he does have an accent), plus the cool tattoo and heart stopping eyes, Ha'ri is indeed quite sexy.

But I still say Marce wins at sexiest, because he has a sexy personality. Ha'ri does not. He's almost...childish in some ways. Marce is badass, kick ass, and knows how to flirt for all he's worth. And he also happens to have fiery curls, nice hips, and killer green eyes. It's the personality that cinches it, though. Marce has a way of making people want him. Ha'ri doesn't particularly care.

That was another rant. 20 days until I get to rant all I want.

Thing I've Learned #23: Sometimes, You Just Don't Ask

TGIF! Sarah and I went to see our school's production of Metamorphoses today. It was awesome. I adored it, considering it was essentially a collection of abbreviated Greek myths. They did some of my favorites, like Phaeton and Eros & Psyche. It was done in a modern-but-not-modern style. And there was a pool on stage. Like I said, awesome.


I was on the NaNoWriMo site some more today, exploring the forums in search of advice/research. And, I swear it was for said research, I ended up on the erotic fiction board. Let me just say I learned nothing useful, but I did learn several things I never needed or wanted to know. I was reminded of the second rule of fangirls: don't ask. Just don't ask.


I did achieve some productivity with my visit to the NaNo website, however. I found a board doing a "NaNo Warm Up," so to speak. The challenge was to write a scene that "epitomizes a character, a relationship, or maybe just the tone of the story you wanted to work on" in 200 words or less. My friends out there who are doing NaNo, I encourage you to try it.
Here's mine:


Bailey took a half dozen running strides to keep up with the lanky redhead, whose name Bailey had not been able to catch.
“Ma expects us to stay clean,” the redhead explained, pushing open a door and ushering his charge into the bathroom. “We bathe pretty much every morning.”
The redhead followed Bailey in, and shut the door behind them. Bailey hadn’t even had time to nod in acknowledgement before the older boy had him backed against the wall and was kissing him harshly, both hands holding Bailey’s hips. Stunned and scared, Bailey froze and let the other’s lips do their work.
“Marce,” two voices called in unison as the door banged open. “Ma told us to tell you not to scare the kid.”
Marce pulled away from Bailey abruptly, licking his lips in a feral manner. Weak with relief, Bailey sank to the floor and sat there, trembling. Marce shoved past the two boys standing in the doorway and left. Both had long black hair, one with pale skin and one with dark. Bailey vaguely remembered their names being Aisha and Ha’ri, but he couldn’t remember which was which.
“What…what is this place?” he asked them, eyes huge and frightened.
The two exchanged looks. “You mean you don’t know?”


It's 210 words, actually. But when has it ever been bad for a NaNo-er to get OVER their word count?! It tells the story of Bailey and Marce's first meeting, which, since it probably isn't going to wind up in the actual novel, I felt was important to their relationship. As you can see, Marce pretty much scared the pee out of poor, sissy little Bailey :D


22 days until NaNoWriMo. By the way, those bruises on my legs are a lovely combination of blue, purple, and a hint of green.

Thing I've Learned #22: The Hardest Thing About Riding Is the Ground

I fell off my horse today. Now let me get one thing straight: when it comes to NOT falling off, I am a freaking ninja. No matter how I'm unseated, I can usually get back in the saddle and get the horse to stop without ever touching the ground. But with James, my technique is thrown way off, because if you DON'T fall off right away, he gets scared. And when he gets scared, he bolts.

So we were heading for a jump today, and he refused and ducked left, which got me mostly out of the saddle. I was on his neck, clinging, as he turned around and took off. I was almost back in the saddle, and if he hadn't bolted, I would have been fine. But off I went. And our arena is sand. I had sand in places I didn't know existed. Hell, I was a walking desert. It was in my EARS. And I didn't even land on my face! But I survived, more or less in one piece. (One piece of what?) I will now have a rather nasty bruise on my leg that promises to be several shades of the rainbow within the week.

So here's my secret to staying on: you have to be THAT afraid of hitting the ground.

I really considered murdering my biology teacher today. She gave us a list of fifty terms and fifteen short answer questions, due Tuesday. And I'm thinking, Lady, this is an honors class. I'm taking two AP classes, and you think I have time to do this nonsense? I have about five chapters of the Scarlet Letter to annotate, an ID list for APUSH plus at least two essays to outline, I have to start reading Founding Brothers, and start studying for my Pre-calc test. And on top of that, I have an away horse show Saturday and Sunday. Really Ms. Hauck, really? Besides, it's not like there's a single thing on that paper I don't know. I could have tested out of that class, I swear. But no-o, you have to take biology in order to take Psychology or Forensics. Ridiculous.

Tonight was open house at school, AKA parent's invade your space night. I hate that I have to go with them, to babysit and make sure they don't ask my teachers anything I don't want them too, and make sure they don't get lost. I got to see my English teacher from last year, the fabulous and amazing Mrs. Drisgill. I love her. Love her, love her. Unfortunately I couldn't chat because she was dealing with parents, but we (Sarah and I) did wave and stand around awkwardly in her room for a while. Her class just finished up their mythology unit. Now you see why I love this woman? Also because she will freely call you an ass if she believes you to be one. And she has a giant fish on top of her bookcases. His name is Finly. I hope I can be as cool of a teacher as that.

I have done a bad thing, and pulled out Patroclus and Achilles for NaNo practice. Yes, I do meant that sort of NaNo practice. And yes, Patroclus and Achilles were cousins and yes, they were also lovers. Isn't that fun? I finished the short...scene? story? thing? where Patroclus was dead. Now I'm writing a different little snip. One where they argue and make love. How utterly cliche. But I don't care, because it's simply practice. Practice doesn't have to have plot. Practice is allowed to be gooey and cliche. As Ernest Hemingway said, the first draft of everything is shit.

23 days until doom/madness. 23 to practice. Eh, I've got time.

Thing I've Learned #21: Art For Art's Sake Does Wonderful Things To You

Yesterday I checked the NaNoWriMo website and renewed my information. NOW I'm excited. Beyond excited! Still scared, but EXCITED. November, come faster! Whoa. That's what he said. x3

On the subject of art, Sarah and I went to art club today, since we have no room in our schedules to take an actual art class. We got to play with clay! I love clay! We made jack-o-lanterns! Mine was scary. I gave it fangs instead of cute square teeth. RAWR NOM NOM NOM.

Today was a fairly boring day. We got new seats in Chinese. I re-established the fact it is weird to write from the perspective of a dead person watching their own funeral. It is also not normal to use the words "folly" or "doom" seriously in writing.

24 days until said doom. COME, BITCH, COME. Whoa.

Thing I've Learned #20: Coins From Iceland Have Fish On Them

I thought this was particularly exciting. Today in Chinese we learned how to talk about exchanging money. Like, how to ask for the exchange rate and say how much money you wanted. Einstein and I got to talking about foreign money, how the British pound is fatter than the American dollar, how there's 1000 yen coins, which is like a ten dollar coin...silly stuff like that. And then he mentioned that there were fish on Icelandic coins. Stuff like sardines and crabs. I have never been more excited over money in my life. Or more determined to go somewhere.

I really meant to practice writing snark for NaNo today, I really did. I have a story about Polydeuces and Castor that's been sitting around since August, waiting to be finished. I was going to work on it, honest! But...on my way to sixth period Patroclus stood up and started narrating. What's a writer to do but write what she is given? So write I did, though not what originally intended. And let me tell you, this piece is the weirdest thing ever, considering Patroclus is dead for most of the story. And yet still manages to tell it. It's kind of surreal, at least for me. Perhaps, when I finish the segment I started, I'll put it up for you to read?

In other (bad) news, I went to the dentist today. And now my teeth ache. Not fun not fun not fun. I had the weirdest deja vu when I was there. Mom and I both had appointments, and she went first. I was writing with my iPod on while I was waiting, and I had remembered sitting in the exact same spot, writing and listening to my iPod, two years ago. It was kind of freaky.

Due to the fact that I did not write what I was supposed to, I am now worrying about November more than ever. It's not even the deed that I'm nervous about writing so much as the emotion. These characters...they're really passionate. They love so fiercely, care so deeply, and yet...because of who they are, what they are, sex itself is nothing to them. I'm afraid I won't be able to get that across the way I need to. Let's take Marce and Bailey for example, (mostly because I just want to talk about them) another one of the three couples in my NaNo. Marce the angry redhead and Bailey the fragile china doll. Marce is all sharp angles and bad attitude, and Bailey might as well be a mouse. A crybaby mouse. Marce has always looked after the sensitive, younger Bailey. Bailey sees the softy behind Marce's swear words, and is generally the only one who can calm him down when he's pissed. Or cranky. Which is often. Yet another odd, opposite couple. I'm seeing a theme here. Anyway, while they care for each other far beyond friendship, neither of them believes in "love" because of the lifestyle they're forced to live. Hence, while they are (whether they themselves admit it or not) in love, sex means nothing. Plus, it's not like sex is anything new in their relationship. The guys at the Phoenix sleep with each other all the time, simply for the purpose of "let me show you what I learned" or "teach me how to do this." No emotion is involved. Which is where I am frightened. How do you write something so profound with the nonchalance of talking about the weather? I shall learn. I have no choice.

Wow. That was a rant. Sorry guys. Marce and Bailey are generally my favorites. They're so opposite, and it never ceases to amaze me how they rub off on each other.

25 days until madness. Oddly, I can't wait.

Thing I've Learned #19: Never Go Grocery Shopping When You're Hungry

Mom and I went to Target to get my glasses fixed today. Unfortunately, we were also both starving. We got so much food...oh man. It was great. Like, an entire freaking cart full. We just walked through the aisles and were like, "Hmm, this looks yummy" and tossed it in the cart. We were walking through the frozen foods, and I was around the corner looking at the seafood when I hear my mom say "Hey, do you want Star Trek waffles?" I was like, "WHAT?! OHMIGOD!" and bolted around the corner to see what she was talking about. Sure enough, there were waffles with imprints of Kirk and Spock on them. Mom and I dubbed them Spoffles. We bought some. I don't even like waffles. We also got macaroni and cheese in Pokemon shapes. I love shopping with my mom.

Last night, and by extension today, I have been worrying about the sheer volume of sex in my NaNo. I mean, the entire plot is based around a brothel. Oh, I am so doomed. On the bright side, when this is all over with, I will be able to make a living writing smutty, plotless romance novels. Not that I would resort to such a lowly use of my craft, but it's nice to know it's an option. Because it's hard to make a living as an author. You know what the difference between a writer and a park bench is? A park bench can support an entire family.

So Sarah said I should practice before November. Practice with what?! I daren't start another story. Bad, bad things will happen if I dig out Patroclus and Achilles. And my twins are not cooperating. And Cesare and Chiaro are just being mean. Chiaro winks and sips wine and Cesare smirks. Pout pout. What's a poor little writer to do? Ah me. At least my dear twins will be back soon. Polydeuces and Castor, brothers of Helen of Troy, Gemini, my twin muses and favorite subjects. In short, another historical rant just waiting to happen. In another month, Gemini will rise and hopefully my inspiration along with it.

I find it amusing and not a little ironic that my muses return in November. Coincidence? I think not.

As is I haven't written in ages, and Sarah suggests I beat them into submission. I agree. Not that submission is in their vocabulary. They are Spartans, you know.

26 days until doom.

Thing I've Learned #18: Putting On Jeans After a Summer of Shorts is an Adventure

So I put on my nice pair of jeans today to go to a play and I was like "Oof! These shrunk!" Don't you love when that happens? I tend to forget that jeans shrink when you wash them. I tend to forget a lot of things, actually.

The play we went to see was Agamemnon. NERD NERD NERD. It was pretty awesome. I am totally going to have a cat named Agamemnon. He's going to be a cranky gray tabby tom, I just know it. And we shall call him Aggie. Next month we're going to see Medea. The story happens to be a favorite of mine. For those of you that don't know: Jason, as in Jason and the Argonauts, is married to Medea. Medea is a priestess of Hecate. Hecate is the goddess of magic and dark and things that go bump in the night. AKA bad. So Jason, Prince of Arrogance and some city I can't remember, decides to marry some other chick because Medea is psycho. Medea, in anger and jealousy, murders their children.

Isn't that a lovely story? I just love Greek tragedy. It reminds you that someones life sucks worse than yours.

I'm so glad it's finally October. On the way back from the play, Sarah, EB, and I all talked novels. Which got me really excited for November. I've been in love with DeLacey and Kit recently, which are one of the three couples in my novel. Kit is one of the boys at the Blue Phoenix which is, if I haven't mentioned, a brothel. 17, curly black hair, gray eyes, and a sort of acrobat. And DeLacey is a rather mysterious nobleman. 25, auburn hair that leans more towards brown, hazel eyes, and an unintentionally cruel sense of humor. Quite the odd couple. But I love them. I love them all. -mad cackle-

So the countdown begins. 27 days until madness. Madness cannot come soon enough.

Thing I've Learned #17: Doing Nothing Is Hard Work

I was awakened rather rudely at 7:30 AM by a killer leg cramp. Dude, Saturday, not. cool. I probably would have woken up then anyway, due to the fact that my internal clock SUCKS. But I stayed in bed for...oh, another three or four hours. And when my back started to hurt from lying funny, I sat up and read. Oh, how nice it is to be able to read what I want, and not what I have to. Only for today, however, because I've got freakin' Scarlet Letter, and after that, Founding Brothers. Yuck. I have at least eight other books I would SO much rather be reading.

Then I had chips and salsa for breakfast and watched Warehouse 13 the rest of the day. Well, for five hours. At least. I was really, really behind, because the season ended like, two weeks ago and I still had nine episodes on my DVR. I only have three left now. And one of them is a repeat. I love doing nothing all day!

We did go to the barn, though. Caught the end of EB's lesson on GLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Who is the cutest horse ever. You know the movie Spirit? He looks like Spirit. Then we painted James. Mom and I went to the tack store yesterday and bought a bunch of stuff. We're going to a horse show next weekend, so we got a new bridle, new helmet, and a new saddle pad. Oh, and paint. It's like horsey face paint. So EB and I painted green and blue lightning bolts on James' butt and I painted a blue exclamation point on his face. Now he's uber awesome.

We (meaning mom, EB, EB's mom, Sarah, and I) went to see Fame last night, and it was pretty awesome. Kind of choppy, but generally awesome. I love going to see movies with my friends. It's like a mini girl's night out.

And now I have to do APUSH homework. Yuck.

A final thought: "What, use only in case of stupid?!"

Thing I've Learned #16: Two Gallons of Milk Are Better Than One

Absolutely nothing significant happened to me today. My parents are now at the grocery store, buying milk, because my mother decided recently that we only needed one gallon of milk at a time. Oh, how wrong she was...how wrong she was.

I drove home from the barn yet again. And thus decided I don't like driving in traffic. It is not fun. And for the record: DRIVER PICKS THE MUSIC, SHOTGUN SHUTS HER CAKEHOLE. Mother.

Speaking of barn, lesson was awesome today. James was awesome today. Kate (that's my instructor and the barn owner. I can't remember if I said that already. My memory is going and I'm only a teenager!) attempted to ruin James' life by putting poles in front of jumps so he had to trot them before jumping the jump. He was not pleased. But he was very brave. I'm proud. He also has a new admirer in the form of a girl that was getting ready for a lesson while I was putting him away. She adored him, and kept petting him and hugging him, and, much to his delight, feeding him. SCORE. James needs to be a little girl's pony. This is precisely why I am training him.

I brought "The Prince" to school today, and received many eye rolls from my friends, who give me a look if I so much as mention Machiavelli. Not that they aren't nerds too, they're just a little sick of hearing about him. I unfortunately had no time to read it, though, due to my freaking ANNOTATING. I hate annotating. And I hate the Scarlet Letter. Archaic English is fine if it's Shakespeare or Machiavelli, (not that Machiavelli wrote in English, but let's just keep this up for the sake of discussion) but not if it's Hawthorne. God no. Depressed, irritating man.

As a side note, I have been listening to Latin choral music all day. Yep, I'm a music nerd too. But I have a legitimate excuse! The song, Tota Pulchra Es, we learned part of in choir, and I, liking the song, looked it up on iTunes, and found a version of it free. Thus, I have been listening to it ever since. Nerd nerd nerd nerd nerd.

My parents are back. I want a glass of milk.