Treats or Tricks?

If I didn't know the full moon happened a few weeks ago, I could have sworn there was one this week. For months, things have been pretty sedentary for me - or, I should say, it's been a while since life has handed me the usual drama I'm accustomed to. I don't know why this week was so special, but the cosmos decided to go on vacation and let me deal with the chaos on my own. OK, so it wasn't that bad. I've been through much, much, MUCH worse. I guess it was just unnerving to be plucked from my seat of quiet contentment and tossed into a shaking, spinning sphere of noise.

So, speaking of full moons and chaos, today is Halloween. I'm not one of those people who goes crazy over the holiday, but I am known to dress up for our party at work. Today - I'm a mime.

The beauty of being a mime is, well, that they can't talk. This is ironic since most of the chaos of my week has revolved around the spoken word: presentations, training team members, brainstorming for a new company name and identity, verbalizing ideas for my to-be-written novel, and more. Then there was the accusation from a friend that I said one thing and wrote something else. To that person - yes, I'm talking to you - I'm not angry; that's not my style...but I am extremely hurt. Anyone who truly knows me would know that I have no tolerance for liars or two-faced people (which probably explains my disdain for most politicians), and to have someone (a person very close to me, mind you) even for a moment think that of me is just...I don't even know the word for it. Tragic? Ignorant? As we corresponded via e-mail, I tried to explain (Word to the wise: e-mail is always a bad way to try to explain yourself), I probably made things worse. But then I thought, why do I even need to explain myself? I know perfectly well what I said, and what I wrote, and if this person listened and read carefully, they would see that the ideas are not contradictory but complementary, and that what I wrote is an extension of what was said.

I told this person that I'm not angry and that we're still on good terms. I meant that. We are. I've known this person far too long to do otherwise. I'm not a fighter. But I think it's important for said-person to understand that a misunderstanding can be hurtful, dangerous even, so it's good to look and listen carefully first. Said-person may very well maintain their opinion about this, but I don't think it's up to me to change their mind. I spoke the truth. I wrote the truth. My part is done.

[On a separate note - less than one day to go. Thank goodness for the end of daylight savings; one extra hour to write with this weekend.]

And It's Only Tuesday

This week is already shaping up to be "one of those weeks", so I thought that I would just post a quick apology now to my friends out there waiting for the next big post. It most likely will not happen until later in the week.

So, here is a quick summary of what's been happening so far:

• The pumpkin I carved so lovingly on Sunday afternoon and placed proudly on our front porch was demolished by some animal Sunday night. The entire face is completely gone!
• Promotion at work (yay!)
• Meetings at work (oh...)
• Husband's birthday minus the bash due to a cold (his, not mine)
• Snow?!?
• Prepping for the big change coming to our company and how I will help lead the charge
• Trying to figure out what my storyline will be for NaNoWriMo. Only a few days left.

Lots of planning, brainstorming and Advil-popping going on.

NaNoWriMo?

Earlier this week, a coworker gave me a clipping from November's Self magazine with the heading "Got 3 minutes? Start Writing a Novel." She left a sticky note pointing to the article, saying "Christine - Saw this and thought about you - you can do it!" What a nice gesture. I told her a while ago - maybe a year or two ago - over lunch that I like to write as a hobby. Since then, she's been giving me clippings from magazines or newspapers about writing and getting published. I think that's tremendous that she has so much faith in me, especially being that she's never read any of my writing outside of professional material.

I put the article aside, thinking, well - I don't do novels. I write poetry. Bad poetry, but poetry nonetheless. I tried my hand at short stories a while ago but they never amounted to much. I always lost inspiration...or heart...or interest. Then I started thinking things over again. A novel. I always say, with all the craziness I've seen in my life so far, I could write a book. Maybe now's the time.

Why now? Well, apparently November is National Novel Writing Month. Who knew? Also, apparently, it's the 10th anniversary. So, what exactly does this mean? Click here to find out.

Write 50,000 in 30 days. The thought of it sounds so...daunting. I can't even imagine what 50,000 words look like. I guess novels don't necessarily have to equate Dostoyevsky, though - right? I have to at least try. So...without further ado, I am announcing that I am officially participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I have one week to sort things out and prepare myself.

The article my coworker gave me gave three tips: 1) Find a personal story line, 2) Turn off that critic in your head, 3) Stay Motivated. Sounds easy enough, but we'll see. Wish me luck!

Feeling Punk

My mind has been in a fog the last few days. It could be information overload, as that tends to happen at the most inopportune times and my brain decides to shut down before rebooting. It could be that it finally feels like fall, and I would rather be kicking around the leaves than sitting in my office. But, I think the real reason is that I'm coming down with the first cold of the season. Hooray! It happens every year this time, usually on or around Halloween, so it's actually a little early this year.

It starts with Sore Throat. Scratchy..dry..it makes me sound a bit like Kim Carnes when I speak. Sore Throat often brings his companion, Fever, and her best friend, Chills. It's like a big party. All the while, I try to act like I'm not home but they crash my pad anyway. Before I know it, Sniffles drops by and then it's wall to wall Snot. Snot likes to stick around for a bit. He's a big guy. He doesn't like to be told when to leave. Hacking Cough finally shows up near the end of the party, saying "Hey, where's everyone going? The party's just starting!" Sometimes Sore Throat feels bad for Hacking Cough and they buddy up. Glassy Eyes is always around, but she kind of just sits there, waiting...

All the while, I'm in denial: "I'm not sick; it's allergies. I'm just thirsty; all I need is a mug of something hot. The office is just cold. Or hot. I'm fine. Really. Boy, is it warm in here!" I try to play it off, but in a few days time, that will be impossible. I become a red-nosed, congested mess and everyone has to stand 5 feet away from me so not to catch my plague. Then if someone happens to get sick, they all know who to blame. They're just jealous the punks didn't come to their house first.

So, I'm already planning for the shindig around Thanksgiving. That's always a hoot.