In Which I Tell You Why

What's that? November, also known as NaNoWriMo, starts less than 24 hours from now? Yes. And you bet your sweet bippy I'll be there on the front lines come midnight tomorrow, ready to write my first novel. (Well, as ready as a person would normally be to spend all their free time for the next month writing something that might turn out to be junk) If you haven't heard about it before, it's 30 days in which people all around the world try to write their own 50,000 word novel.  If you think this sounds cool, and maybe you'd like to try it, THERE'S STILL TIME TO SIGN UP. :)  Go to nanowrimo.org and make an account.

National Novel Writing Month is a great way to get out there just for fun and force yourself to meet a ridiculously demanding deadline with thousands of other people who are doing it too (read: huge support system). One of the great things about writing is that there are no masters; no one really knows what's going to find an audience and what's for sure not. One of the great things about writing for NaNo is that it is almost impossible to crank out an amazing novel-formed masterpiece in only 30 days. But knowing from the get-go that it's unlikely you'll win does not keep people from trying. In fact, it makes the race all the better because there is so little to lose. Worst case scenario: your month long project that you chose to do for fun turned out to be junk. Best case scenario? You write a perfectly spine tingling novel that everyone wants to read and own for the rest of human time. The win possiblities are off every rational chart there is, whereas the greatest possible loss is something anyone could handle. Just don't make any crazy bets on your life that you'll make it or anything.

It's a month in which anything could be possible, and people are pushed to achieve more than they believe they can on a regular basis.

Because I think it's so awesome, I even follow nanowrimo on twitter. In these days leading up to a crazy writing goal, they asked their followers Why They Write.

*pause*

*You hear deep breathing*

Oh Gosh, sorry. I just love this perfume I'm wearing so much. It smells like the insides of rose blooms hidden in the snuggly warmth under a comforter in the early morning. 

What's that? You mean you've never smelled that before? I tell you, you're missing out. Some smells are sweet, like strawberry smoothies. But others are like this- not sweet or bitter, but somewhere in between. The scents you breathe straight to your heart; like home or socks or yoga mats (if you're a yogi). Some smells you love because they're good. And some smells are good because you love them.

But I've gotten off track. I was supposed to tell you Why I Write.

First, there's the entertainment factor. I like to laugh and be able to share the joke with other people I care about. Writing that joke myself makes me feel like I'm clever and funny; in general, worth something. Everyone enjoys a good story, and I swell with pride and my cheeks flush when I can do something that people enjoy. And even if it's a bad story, it can still be funny in it's badness. 

On the other hand, I sometimes write personal stuff that I don't share with anybody. In this case, I write out of curiosity about myself. I want to record my life, in my own unique Heidi voice. I like being able to look back at old writings and see how I've changed as a person. My journey (and yours too) is unique. Match that with one's own unique voice and you've got the potential for a story no one has ever heard before, in the way that you tell it. Awesome.

Okay, so that's me. What about you? Why do you write? 

In Which I Embrace (What Might Be) Radical Freedom

For a young college student frequently surrounded by other vibrant and charming people, I spend a lot of meals eating alone. Yes. And to make it worse, these meals are also usually spent in my little dorm room, with the door closed. During these sessions of Solitary Nomming, I have more than once wondered why they are, in fact, Solitary. The usual conclusion is that I just like to be by myself more than most people; and it's not just meal-times. I also prefer to study, explore, and generally loiter as a party of one. But as I ride along in this train of thought, I start to worry about where it's taking me. I'm anti-social, I realize with sadness, What's wrong with me? I should try to spend more time with other people.

If I were the type of person to ask What Jesus Would Do, I would further conclude that I am not making anyone's life better by hiding myself (and my smiling face) away. I should be out there loving my neighbors, right? Or at least building up a tolerance to them (heh heh but only if I were like that, which I'm not). 

The truth is, over the last few years, I have become more social and outgoing. I spend more time at activities on campus, I joke with coworkers at Phil's. The other week, I even went to a Pre-Concert Choir Potluck, and had FUN. Yeah. So there. Thing is, I continue to spend all but a few meals every week alone. 

Even as I started writing this post, I was sitting in my warm lit breadbox of a dorm room, half-way through a Swissburger so good it could only have been made by God. My fingers were oily, my tongue was all over my lips, and inadvertent little moans and sighs were coming off my vocal chords. My thoughts were these: Ever since I was little, I have been a noisy and messy little eater. Finger-licking, lip-licking, smacking, mmm-ing, and facial expressions; I've had it down. My mom had four other kids by the time I came along, and she never had time to train me in proper eating etiquette. For years, I didn't think about it, until my boyfriend's mom (who, Rich agrees, is an etiquette nazi) commented about my "smacking". I was so embarrassed, and also infuriated at being told I would have to change myself to fit in. 

When I eat with other people, I quiet down my love for food. I know they do not want to see me make a spectacle of myself over the Ham&Cheese Panini I ordered for lunch. But when I eat alone? I enjoy the hell out of my food. I can eat as slowly as I want, lick my fingers, close my eyes, eat without utensils, whatever I want. You might find this disgusting; glad I don't go out and do this in public (trust me that it's not that bad), maybe even unsure why I decided to write about this. But maybe you understand, like I do, that it is significant how I have taken something unique about myself and, even though other people don't like it, decided to keep it. 

My philosophy professor recently brought up the idea (from Sartre) that humans are radically free, able to act independent of outside influences. Now I'm not big on Existentialism, and really this idea (of existence preceding essence) has more to do with how we have no predetermined habits than with choosing to not break a habit. However, I like to think I have embraced a little bit of my own radical freedom in eating how I want and where I want. Maybe.

Comments? Questions? Worries? Joys?

In Which I'm latte, aren't I?

Heh heh, pretty cute, eh?

This morning I am drinking the chilled remains of yesterday's Caramel and Vanilla Latte (This is what I order at places which do not sell Perc Place par Caramel Machiattos), while thinking generally that I have a perfectly good blog I have not been using. It always shames me a little to fail at posting regularly; it's the same feeling I would get last year when I would reschedule a Behind the Wheel lesson only to miss it a second time because I don't have a way to get there (Man, but I am so glad I have my liscense and don't have to deal with that anymore).

Moving along: there's a sort of difficult balance in keeping a good blog. Life is all about balancing. However, if there is one rule that must be followed in order to have a good Reading for Anyone Who Stumbles Along Blog, it is (in my humble opinion) this: 



Only publish things that other people can benefit from.

(Damn, this latte is good cold)

Ah hem- In other words, if it will not make people smile or if there is no lesson people can apply to their own lives, said people will probably not read your blog. As an example, I once published a lengthy post of my trip to Irishfest with my boyfriend. No one but me was interested. If I had turned that post into an amusing and/or suspensful story, people would have liked it better, and heck, I probably would have too. People will not want to read my "diary entries" unless they are thought provoking and entertaining.

In summation, (because my Acting class starts soon), I am going to try following my own advice and actually get back on schedule with this blog, posting things that other people besides me can enjoy. 

In Which I Have A Funny Dream About The Golden Trio

I had a really awesome/odd dream last night in which I was Hermione, sort of. Harry got framed for something so we had to leave Hogwarts and apparently the only ways out were the front door and some funny lake in the back? (which was easy to track us into) So I basically had to steal Malfoy's car (Yes, there was a parking lot full of the students' cars, and Malfoy's was a really nice big black one- maybe a hummer... I don't know much about cars).

At one point I was pushing Draco out of the driver's seat while he was driving saying "I'm desperate!" and trying to get the steering wheel from him. Did I mention in this dream I was also sort of in love with him?

Anyway, Harry, Ron, and I escaped to an underground city (sort of like in Reliquary but with way better lighting. It was also like you would imagine the Underground Railroad was like) where a bunch of homeless people lived. And pretty much all the homeless people did was read this one classic book (Something like 'Of Mice and Men', except created by my imagination).

In Which We Are Introduced to The Blog Maker

One time, in elementary school, I was in the school cafeteria- sitting at one of those big retangular tables. Elizabeth Brunner (my sometimes enemy until my big sister Amy told her to leave me alone) sat nearby, and said she would give me two dollars for my brownie. And for anyone who remembers what it's like to be a little kid who never got an allowance; the desicion is simple. The thing was that she didn't have the two dollars with her, so she would bring them tomorrow. I willingly, and with my heart full of trust that she would pay me tomorrow, handed her my brownie. The next day came and went, and that's how learned that people can't necessarily be trusted.