Charlie Brown Teacher-Speak

I'm not sure what to say anymore, and each time I try to gather my thoughts, they flit away like little sparks of light that mock me for trying to catch them in the first place. So I apologize if this blog post sounds like the Charlie Brown's teacher: wanhnwanh wanh wanh wahnwahn.

I want to tell you guys a lot of things. Like about my New Year's resolutions and how I made them but they don't really amount to much.

How I keep riding the roller-coaster of "Believe in Yourself/Give Up."

How I'm on Week 4 of P90X and am somewhere between really, really loving it and despairing that it will never be over with.

How I'm really sick and tired of reading YA and am reconsidering trying to WRITE it.

How sometimes I really, really hate other writers who are better than me. And yet, how I am also really, really happy for their success.

I want to tell you how happy I am in my marriage and grateful that I am with someone who loves me so much, and whom I love.

I want to tell you about all my personal issues, but I won't. Hopefully EVER.

I want to talk to you about my writing with passion again, but anymore it's like I'm scared to.

I want to write poetry, but I can't. It all comes out wahnwahn wahn wahn wahnwahn.

How I want to run until I throw up, and then run some more in the hopes that it will make me feel like I'm going SOMEWHERE.

But I can't elaborate. Every time I try, it ends up muddled and confused.

How more often than not, I feel like a YA character and that really ticks me off.

It's all Charlie Brown teacher-speak, though! Gah! Frustrating!

Randomness

Just some random information you may or may not care about, but has been on my mind for some reason:

I'm the most cautious impulsive person you'll ever meet.

I have the urges to do stupid things all the time, like jump out of windows, in front of vehicles, touch hot surfaces, pick my nose in public, etc., just to see what would happen. Though I KNOW that nothing good would happen. So I refrain. But barely. (I also have awful road rage, which is why I do not carry a gun. Because I would shoot so many people's tires out.)

Sometimes I forget that I'm alive, breathing, experiencing, and then I get these huge moments of self-awareness. I think, Whoa, I'm here. Right now. In this chair. That's amazing.

I drink lemon juice by the shot glass. I used to do this all the time when I was younger and wanted to be "adult." Lemon juice almost manifests the same, scrunched, painful faces as whiskey. Though lemon juice has yet to make me want to throw up.

I have prophetic dreams at times. Recently I've been dreaming that I find my cat. I'm hoping that comes true.

A book or movie can completely alter my mood. And it will stay that way ALL DAY. I watched the episode of Gilmore Girls where Lorelai sleeps with Chris because Luke won't marry her right that second and I was so PISSED for the rest of the day! Same thing happened when Rory quit college. (Yes, I'm sad.)

What about you? Have any random things going for you?

Snap, Crackle, Pop

So, I finally cracked today. I was doing so well, too.

I even smiled at the lady who put mayonnaise (gross) on my sandwich at Subway when I clearly said "banana peppers." When I left, I said pleasantly, "God bless stupid people. They make the rest of us seem so much smarter."

I was nice to the people I ordered my bridesmaids boots from, even though when I ordered the boots THREE weeks ago, they said it would only take ONE week for them to come in. Still no boots. They assured me they will be in Friday afternoon (the day BEFORE the wedding). I also remember specifically telling them that I needed them by Sept. 18. In three weeks, you'd think they'd get it right. But I was sweet and said, "Ok, see you Friday, then."

(Even if my boots don't come in, they will still see me Friday... and I will seriously go all Bridezilla on them and demand my money back. (I prepaid for them.) I think that's reasonable.)

I called the flower shop today because I haven't heard a peep from them about my flowers. I went by to put a VOLUNTARY (she assured me) deposit on them the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, but they were closed. Last weekend I was so busy unpacking that I didn't remember to go by until AFTER they were closed for the day, so crap-ola. But I wasn't too worried because, like I said, the deposit was VOLUNTARY and I was only going to do it so they would know I wasn't going to order hundreds of dollars worth of flowers and then say, "Oops, my bad. I didn't really want them." When I call them today they tell me they haven't even ORDERED my flowers yet because they were waiting on the deposit.

!!!

And when can I come by and pay for the flowers so they can order them?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"I'm not able to come by until Friday, because I work and wouldn't be able to get there before you close," I say very calmly through my teeth.

"Oh, well, are you sure you can't come by sooner?"

What I want to know is WHY they want me to pay up front now when before they told me I didn't have to pay ANYTHING until the day I picked them up for my wedding? It was MY choice to give them some money upfront. (Which now I'm glad I didn't because they would probably have "misplaced" that and demanded I pay them double.) ALSO, they can't even tell me exactly HOW MUCH the flowers are going to be, which is why I couldn't pay them upfront before. (They gave me an estimate.) So, really, WTF?

They are going to order my flowers today. I will pay for them Friday and pick them up Saturday. Oh, and did I mention I have no idea what the frak these flowers are going to look like? Yeah, so there's a good possibility I'm paying for a bundle of dandelions and stingweed.

And then my brother sends me a nice text that says exactly this: So are you going to come see Julian or what? (Julian is my nephew whom I haven't seen in over  a year.)

:::Snap:::

Rawr!!!

:::Forces Bridezilla back into her cage. She begins gnawing on the bars:::

My reply: Yes, I am going to come over tonight.

What I really want to say: EXCUSE ME! Yes, I want to see my nephew, but I am also trying to make sure that my wedding is going to happen without any major catastrophes, as well as settle into a new place (and get it ready for some of our guests to stay in). I'm freaking out because I still can't find my cat and trying not to resent my mother for letting him escape in the first place. I'm pretty sure he's dead, but you know what? None of that matters. Please, let me drop everything to accommodate YOU. So sorry!

I feel a little selfish for feeling that way, but, gah. I'm already spread too thin here.

I Know What I Want

I rarely go through periods where I don't know what I want. I've always been a goal-driven person. I've laid out my dreams and mapped out the best way to get to them.

Which brings me to my mini-rant of the day.

With my wedding fast approaching, I've had a couple people (some of them who play a significant role in my life) ask me if I'm sure.

I shall give them the benefit of the doubt and say that they're just making sure that I know what I'm doing. Marriage, after all, is supposed to be a lifetime commitment (though, unfortunately, it's no longer viewed that way by most people). So, thank you all for caring enough to ask me if I'm sure, but let me let you in on a little secret:

If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be doing it.

That's just how I operate. I might cave in to peer pressure and do stupid things (like get drunk or get a tattoo) but I still know what I'm doing (and some part of me always wants to do it anyway). And when it comes to the BIG things, I never go into them without weighing all the options and possibilities. So, for those of you who are concerned. Yes. I. Am. Sure.

People have kindly pointed out the flaws in my groom and in our relationship. Another little secret: I already knew they were there. And, what's more, I can live with them. I don't expect my groom or my marriage to be perfect. I expect there will be times when we will be stupid and hurt each other. Where we will yell and scream (probably over nothing). I know this. I accept it. But I also know that there will be far more good times to hold on to. Acceptance and love. Encouragement and support. Caring. Devotion. Laughter. An ability to be selfless. My fiance and I are happy more than we are upset/sad/angry. And that happiness mainly stems from being together.

And here's another secret (I'm just chock full of them): I'm not marrying my fiance just because I love him. I'm marrying him because he is a wonderful person, because he is my rock and my light. I am marrying him because life without him is not an option. I'm marrying him because he will be a good husband and an excellent father. I am marrying him because I understand his weaknesses and let him see mine without fearing that he will use them against me. I am marrying him because he loves me like no one has ever loved me (NO ONE) and I have never doubted it. NEVER (which is huge for me).

I've known what I've wanted in life from a very young age and I've never deviated from it despite how discouraging or impossible my life becomes. And I knew that I wanted to marry this man when I was sitting in a coffee shop with my best friend, gushing about my fiance, and she said, "Brandi, I've never seen you like this. You're really in love, aren't you?"

Yes, I am.

So, again, thank you for your concern, but I know what I'm doing. I know what I want.

The Vacuum Cleaner from Another Dimension

Wow, I should do blogfests more often! Welcome, newcomers, to the craziness that is me!

Thought I would give you an update on what's been going on with me (and, yes, vacuum cleaners will be involved). My fiance and I are currently living with my parents. Yay. I just found out that the house we're supposed to be moving into will not be ready for another week (surprise, surprise!), so, if I'm lucky, I will be moving into the new place the weekend before my wedding.

::Cue hysterical laughter::

We will also have to buy a refrigerator for the new place. So much for trying to crawl my way out of debt.

But, some good news! I am going to have a short story published! And I will get paid for it! Yay! It will be in an ebook and possibly even a print edition. We shall see. I'll keep you updated as soon as I know more.

Last night Fiance and I spent the majority of our time cleaning the old house for the new renters (because we're nice like that). I changed from my work clothes into some grubby clothes and put my engagement ring and watch in my dress pants pocket. (Do you see where this is going?)

While I'm shampooing the carpet in the master bedroom, Fiance is vacuuming the living room. He picks up my work clothes (do you see where this is going?) and my ring and watch fall out. He vacuums up my ring.

Yep.

No big deal, right? After all, there are only so many places something vacuumed up can go, right?

So I didn't panic. I sort of laughed and was like, "Well, you did it so you get it out, Fiance," and continued shampooing carpets.

Thirty minutes and a shredded vacuum cleaner bag later, still no ring.

!!!

I start getting a little panicky. Maybe it's stuck in the filter, hose, brush, etc. Fiance doesn't hear it rattling around, but I insist that maybe its lodged in there somehow.

We proceed to destroy the vacuum cleaner. We smash and break. We tear the thing to pieces.

Still no ring.

We get out the metal detector and go through the contents of the vacuum's bag carpet bunny by carpet bunny. I suggest we set it all on fire. Fiance barely manages to talk me out of it.

We check the entire living room floor, under the porch, between the cracks in the steps, in the grass. We find a washer and a tent stake, but no ring.

I'm hysterical at this point. WTF? What happened? Did the vacuum cleaner transport the ring to another dimension? This, really, sounds like the only logical conclusion.

At this point, we have spent almost an hour and a half looking for this ring.

I'm in tears. Fiance is trying to console me with "It has insurance, we can replace it. It's just a ring."

"It's not just a ring!" I wail. "It's my ENGAGEMENT ring!"

(Gentlemen, there is no reasoning with a hysterical woman who just lost her engagement ring.)

It's 9:30 p.m. The neighbors think we're crazy because not only have we borrowed their metal detector, but now we need to borrow their vacuum cleaner. (We neglected to tell them what EXACTLY happened to ours.) We finish cleaning to the harmony of my sniffles.

We get to my parent's house at approximately 10 p.m. I unleash my cat and he immediately gets into a fight with my mom's cat. We have to separate them. Mom tells us that my chihuahua might be having puppies. I contemplate calling into work and taking a mental health day.

But I don't.

I get up. Drive to Lincoln. Drop off boots for my bridesmaid to wear to her fitting. Drop off Jake (he promises to look for my ring while he waits for the tow truck to haul his old car to the new place) and head to work.

Halfway there he calls to tell me that the tow truck people didn't show up. And then he says, "Oh, by the way, will you marry me?"

"You found it!"

"Yep."

"Where was it?"

"In the lining of the vacuum cleaner's bag." We searched that, like, six times and never saw anything. I swear.

"So we killed the vacuum cleaner for nothing."

"Looks like it."

Sigh. Wake me up when September ends.

The Greatest Love Story of All Time

Warning: Jaded alert!!!

It's the greatest love story of all time.

Nope, I'm not talking about Twilight. (Not yet, anyway.) I'm talking about Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. You know, in modern day publishing presses, R&J could be considered a YA in some aspects. After all, the main characters are 13-14. (I hope you knew that.) It's got all the angst and OMG-no-one-understands-us element. As well as the idea that LOVE is the most important thing in the entire universe. So, important, in fact, that it's worth stabbing yourself in the chest over.

I watched the modern day remake of Romeo and Juliet with Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes last night with my fiance. Back in the days of my youth (as in, high school) it was one of my favorite movies. (OMG, so romantic, right?) Last night it just pissed me off to the point where I turned to Fiance and said, "If you kill yourself because I die, I will go to hell and kick your A$$!" To which he replied with something very sweet and mollifying, "Darling, if you died I wouldn't kill myself, but I would feel pretty damn dead inside." (Romance as only a country boy can provide. P.S. I love it when he calls me darling.) Aw. Kissy kiss.

Now, I love romance as much as the next gal (devouring books by Teresa Medeiros like it's nobody's business), but it comes to a certain point where romance morphs into obsession/insanity. And I just can't tolerate that. True love exists. Soul mates exist. But true love isn't about sacrificing everything (including your life... hello, R&J; hello, Bella) for it to work. It's about compromise. It's above give and take. And, to top it off, it's about realistic expectations of yourself and the other person. So, really, the whole reason R&J ticks me off is because everything could be avoided by approaching love with maturity. Talking to the 'rents, for one. Juliet could have just let her father disown her and cast her into the streets like he threatened instead of devising this whole "fake death plan." (Which, really, would the end have been any different? She would have never spoken to her parents again.) I'm sure Romeo would haven't just left her begging on the streets, for crying out loud. And was it love or obsession that drove them to commit suicide? Romeo at the beginning of the play/movie was "in love" with Rosalind. And then he sees Juliet and BAM! Love at first sight! I don't think it was his heart that was reacting to Juliet, but another "part belonging to a man."

R&J and, yes, Twilight, give teens an unrealistic expectation of love. And sometimes I wonder if crap like this is the reason 50% of marriages fail nowadays. The moment one or the other starts thinking, OMG they totally wouldn't kill themselves/turn into a vampire for me, it's over. Love can be crazy and it can be thrilling, but lasting love isn't about the adrenaline rush of forsaking everything else for another person; it's about knowing that there will be times when you will be mad at each other, when you will wish that other person wasn't breathing down your neck all the time, when you get sick of their annoying habits...and you wouldn't want it any other way.

My prediction: If R & J hadn't done themselves in, they would have been divorced within a year. And Bella and Edward? It's going to be one freakin' long eternity (not in a good way).

Reading, Writing and Disappointing Characters

Did everyone have a wonderful weekend? Like mine, was it just too short? Did you get a lot of things accomplished? I did! And I'm happy to say that my stress level has gone down from the red zone to the yellow. So that's good.

First news: My car is fixed! Yay! I have a working air conditioner and my car is no longer overheating. So happy! And it only cost me a boat. Yay!

Second news: Did some more work over at my mother's house. We tore down the rest of the porch and hauled it to the shop. Out of sight. Out of mind.

Third news: I went to two birthday parties this weekend. One for my second cousin (who turned one) and one for Jake's nephew, who turned nine. Fun stuff. I didn't eat nearly as much cake as I REALLY wanted to, but I'm proud of myself for resisting.

Fourth news: I've been reading again! (I haven't picked up a book in probably a couple months.) It was a bit hard to read because, I've noticed, Jake starts getting all "pay attention to ME" when I read for more than 30 minutes. I've been reading Empress by Karen Miller. It was one of those books that I found while perusing the shelves at B&N. The cover intrigued me, as did the excerpt and, finally, the first chapter.

This book is...dark. Brutal. Graphic. Let's just get that out right away. It opens with a nameless child watching her mother, whom she refers to as "the woman" get beaten and then raped right in front of her. And then the child is sold into slavery. The book gets a little more optimistic from there since Hekat, the child, looks upon her slavery as an improvement. Her new owner refers to her as "beautiful and precious" rather than "she-brat." She is treated like a pampered pet and, since the story is told so closely from her POV, the reader starts believing things might indeed go well for her. That is...if it wasn't for the 600 or more pages to go.

Needless to say, things don't go well for her. When she discovers that she is "just another slave" and will be sold as a concubine, she escapes to the warriors' barracks. She mutilates her face so that no one will ever again place value on her for her beauty alone. She catches the warlord's eye. She becomes a fierce warrior.

So far, so good, in my mind. But then...meh.

I like Hekat. She's vicious and confident and a little too full of herself despite her crude upbringing. But then she gives herself to "the god" and the story shifts from being about her to being about the god, even if its indirectly. Everything Hekat does is for the god. Everything, including mating the warlord, sleeping with a godspeaker (basically a priest) to make a baby and raising her son. EVERYTHING.

And in this process, we lose the character of Hekat. She becomes just another zealous vessel. She's not torn or conflicted about her choices, she just does what she is commanded. She doesn't even seem like a person anymore. She has no other motivation besides serving the god. And, honestly, that gets a little on my nerves. As a reader, I attach myself to characters, not plot. The plot keeps me hooked, that's a given, but if I'm not interested in the characters, I don't care what happens to them in the end.

So, at this point, I'm a little disinterested. I have about 300 more pages (maybe a little less) and I'm hoping that something happens to where we recover more of Hekat's PERSONAL motivations, rather than the god's. I'm hoping that the god wants her to do something that she cannot do. Like kill her son. A bit bloodthirsty of me, I know, but at least then Hekat would be Hekat rather than the god's vessel.

This book pushes 800 pages. I'm about 2/3 of the way through and I will finish it because I have hope that it will not all be about the god's vessel and what she must do for Mijak (the land they live in). I think the reason I haven't given up completely on the book is because of the amazing world Ms. Miller has created. As far as being a work of speculative fiction, I give Miller an A+. I just hope the rest of the book reaches its potential.

A side note: Also involving Empress, there is the whole issue of sex. While it doesn't happen frequently in the book, when it does happen it's always the same: male gets gratification, woman endures/suffers through it. Really? I know it's a harsh world, but the men who sleep with Hekat actually care for her (the warlord and the godspeaker). I doubt they would be complete ravishing beasts, mmkay? And it irritates me that Hekat is completely indifferent to everything that happens to her (including the sex). Hekat may be the god's vessel, but she is still a woman and, f'in A, we're not completely emotionless, okay? ::mutter mutter::

I'll try to finish this book this week. At this point, I can't honestly say that I would recommend it. But I won't say that I wouldn't recommend it. It's worth reading for Part I alone. The imagery and culture of Mijak is skillfully woven and worth the read. But if you're like me and characters make it or break it for you, then stay tuned for my final verdict.

Grin and Bear It

Got a giggle this morning from the "I write like..." link over at The Sharp Angle . According to the website, I write like Edgar Allan Poe, Anne Rice, James Fenimore Cooper, James Joyce, William Shakespeare and Dan Brown. 

My readers should never be bored, at least.


But, yeah, life still sucks. Just found out that it will cost $950 in labor to fix my car. I'm not sure my car is even worth that much. My fiance is trying to finagle a deal with the mechanic and trade our bass boat for the work. Hopefully that happens, because there is no way I can come up with $950. Which means that I will either be driving it until it dies (the more likely scenario) or try to trade it in for a new vehicle. Which I really can't afford.


I'm not sure who's karma I screwed with, but apparently I did something REALLY bad. I'm sorry, okay? Whatever it was, I'm sorry.


I did get some things done this weekend, however. My MOH and I bought the stuff to make these really cute centerpieces (I only spent $30 and we're going to get probably 30 centerpieces out of it). I'm going to email her the addresses for the invitations tonight, and she's going to get all the invites printed out. Yay. I even found some flower girl baskets for 80 cents each. Flower girl dresses? I've found them and am just waiting on a confirmation on the sizes before I order them. (Only $11 each!)


Sunday Jake and I went over to my parent's house and got a LOT accomplished. Well, we made a good dent in it, anyway. Most of it is just hauling away stuff from my parents' remodel. I think next weekend we'll be taking down the porch.


So, I got some things done this weekend and it kept me from going completely bonkers this morning when I learned how expensive it was going to be to fix my car. But I'm crossing my fingers that the mechanic wants a boat...because, otherwise, I'm screwed.


I'm just grinning and bearing it for now.

You Don't Know What You're Getting Into...

Seriously, you don't.

So, stop reading and go back to YouTube. You don't want to read this.

Are you still reading?

All right, you've been warned.

To steal a quote from Avatar, life has been "pissing on [me] without the courtesy of calling it rain." It's been just one big spiral of suckiness and Brandi is trying to be optimistic (or at least realistic) but she is about to go freaking insane (as you can tell by her referring to herself in the third person).

It's hot here. It's Arkansas. So if it's not hot and humid, it's rainy and humid. I drive a black car. Which likes to overheat if I try to run the air conditioner. When it overheats, it starts blowing scorching hot air. Brandi has had three near-death experiences (yes, that's me being a drama queen). I thought a new thermostat (according to my fiance and his mechanic friends) would fix it. Nope. No such luck. So after I went around and around with the delivery company for losing my thermostat, I didn't actually need it.

Talk about ironic.

Got a new cell phone which enjoys fading other people's voices in and out so I can't hear them. More fun stuff.

Need a new mattress. Ours is, literally, a sagging rectangle of the most pathetic stuffing ever. And we've only had it a year. And I bought it BRAND NEW. AND IT WASN'T CHEAP AND I THINK IT HAS A WARRANTY BUT I CAN'T FIND IT AND EVEN IF I COULD FIND IT I WOULDN'T WANT ANOTHER MATTRESS FROM THE SORRY PLACE THAT I BOUGHT IT FROM IN THE FIRST PLACE.

And then, I was going to have this big clean-up/cook-out party at my parent's place to get everything ready for the wedding so that, instead of having to spend every weekend there from now until the wedding, we could enlist our friends to help and knock it out in one weekend. We would then reward them with hamburgers and beer. Sounds like a plan, huh?

Except for the fact that my fiance REFUSED to even consider it. He is one of those crazy rednecks who will give you the shirt off his back but, if he needs a shirt, refuses to take the one back that he just gave you. I love him for it, but it's frustrating the heck out of me. I tried reasoning with him, but, yeah, failure.

So I get to spend every weekend up to my wedding at my parents' house getting rid of crap that they said would be gotten rid of MONTHS ago. Just thinking about how much work has to be done makes me whimper. But, hey, maybe it will only take MOST of my weekends and not ALL of them.

I haven't been sleeping well because of all this stress. So, lack of sleep piled on top of stress has sent me into depression (which I really hoped to avoid...I'd been doing so well). The depression is so bad that I've considered going to my doctor and asking for a prescription. Or maybe a lobotomy.

In my American Lit class I heard the quote, "Depression is anger turned inward." But, I look at all this CRAP that I've just written about and I honestly don't know why I'm angry about it. Maybe that's why I'm turning it inward, because I know it's just stupid, petty stuff that doesn't matter and yet I let it get to me anyway.

There is one thing that I think I'm justified to be upset about, however. Over the weekend I found out that my grandmother (my only living grandparent) will probably not make it to my wedding because she hasn't been taking care of herself. (No, I don't think she's going to pass away, but her health isn't stable enough to make a trip.) So, I'm sad. Really sad.

I need a pick me up. Some good news. I need things to go smoothly for once.

Or some jokes. Anyone have some good jokes?

Why Can't I Think?

I'm at that point where my brain is starting to hurt, it's so full of crap.

I'm freaking out about my wedding. Which is only 80 days away, people! I, honestly, have no idea what I'm doing. What I should be doing, even. I need a practice wedding just so I can make sure that my REAL wedding comes out right.

I'm obsessing a bit, I know. But I want it to be a nice wedding (not perfect, since that isn't possible). I want it to be elegant, and, slowly but surely, it's disintegrating into a big redneck mess. It's because I'm trying to make everyone happy and I'm sacrificing a lot of what I REALLY want due to finances and circumstances and such. That's life.

My problem is, my expectations are getting higher and higher, but at the same time my confidence that the wedding will actually be what I want is getting lower and lower. So, I've been depressed and a little bit bitchy, which I hate and I constantly berate myself about...and that just makes me feel worse. So I'm spiraling out of control. Ack. I think I'm becoming a pouty bridezilla, which I HATE. But I'm just so frustrated because everything that should have happened or been taken care of HASN'T been. People who begged me, "Let me take care of this for you," are not following through on their promises. Is it my right to be miffed at these people, even when I love them and appreciate them for wanting to help in the first place? Should I continue to keep my mouth shut and cross my fingers that they will EVENTUALLY do what they are supposed to do or give them an ultimatum? I feel awful for even having to think about it.

And I'm disappointed. I agreed to get married at my parents' house in the condition that the yard was kept up and filled with flowers (like my mother swore it would be) and everything that's lying around the yard (broken doors, buckets, dogs, miscellaneous crap) be cleaned up. My mom keeps talking about all this stuff we have to do but won't actually give me a time to do it. So things keep getting put off.

It's going to be up to me. That's how it always is. This weekend, I'm going over there (dragging my fiance, too) and we are going to get that yard up to shape. We're going to get things ordered. No more waiting. No more hoping that things are going to come together some day. I'm going to have to make this happen.

So, all of this stress has been pushing on my brain and I haven't been able to write worth a flying flip. That irritates me, because I want to finish ELVES within the next few months. (Hopefully by October.) And stress also makes me over-critical of myself, so I'm hating my writing again. (Yay.) But (BIG BREATH) I'm going to make all this happen. I'm going to get things done so I don't have to worry about it anymore.

What's funny (if a bit irritating) is that people keep asking me if I'm sure I want to get married. YES, I want to get married, but I don't know if I want all this extra ceremony crap. (I actually never wanted a big wedding. I wanted a small, intimate wedding and that got blown out of the water.) But, I know that if I don't go through with it, one day I'll regret not having that big ceremony. So, I'm going to grin and bear it. It can only get smoother from here, right?

No New Ideas...or Why I Really Need to Outline

I'm usually a write-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of writer. I don't outline. I don't think too far ahead. I just come up with a character and let them take me where they will. This has made for some exciting discoveries...and some pretty big flops.

I decided that in order to get out of my rut with Last of the Elves, I needed to make an outline. I needed a clear idea of where the story was going and how the characters were going to get there. And I outlined myself right into a wall.

The good thing about this was: it's only an outline. I didn't have chapters and chapters of useless scenes to build up to a pathetic and cliche ending. I saw it immediately and about gagged. Really, Brandi? That's all you could come up with?

Maybe it's because I fixate on certain things. I have a comfort niche and I unconsciously write into it. Bleh.

This comfort niche involves the MC. Usually they are unassuming and not very powerful, but they have a secret power locked inside them and they can use it to conquer evil, if only they figure out how! Looking back at my "completed" works, I see it in FURY and DRAGON QUEEN. Of course, there is a slight variation due to circumstance and such, but now I find myself trying to grab onto it for ELVES. No! Bad Brandi!

So, I have to come up with something new. Something different. But how? Every time my mind tries to go a different direction, the niche pulls me back in. And I'm stuck. Stuck and frustrated.

I don't want to be one of those authors who gives their characters different names and slightly different circumstances, but in the end tells the same story. Just the thought that I might not be capable of anything else makes me want to cry. ::sniffle::

(Ok, moment of self-pity over.)

I will come up with something else...I just don't know what yet!

Problem Characters

Not sure if you knew this, but I'm a big fan of giving all my characters a unique story. Most of the time this ends up strengthening the writing/plot and takes me awesome places, but other times... I really just can't figure out what the heck a character wants.

Enter Honey, the most complicated secondary character I have ever written. When we first meet her, she accuses Jade of stealing her throne and is disappointed that she's not able to kill her.

Then Jade asks her to be her advisor in a crazy/desperate move and we begin to see a different side of her: that she actually cares about other people. And maybe she doesn't hate Jade as much as she pretends.

And then she goes and almost acts like she's Jade's friend, giving her very valuable advice. (WTF?)

And THEN she tries to get Jade to turn against her allies and join with the bad guy. Um... I repeat, WTF?

All of this is in the first draft of DRAGON QUEEN, and I'm sure it seemed all quite logical to me at the time, but now that I'm near the end of editing the story...I've realized I didn't ever quite reveal her motivation...until the VERY end. So, I ask, should it stay that way or should I move it up? Because, OMG, there are a lot of revelations at the end. Too many, I fear. It was a whole lot of fun when I was writing it and posting chapters on the WD Sci-Fi/Fantasy forum (I loved shocking my readers) but now that I've got the whole thing in front of me, I'm dissatisfied.

And a lot of it is Honey's fault.

She plays a key role in getting things going at the end, but I don't know why she does it. WHY? WHY???

So I'm having to go back to the character drawing board (so to speak) and figure out what she wants. What she REALLY wants. I thought I had it figured out...but now, I'm not sure. Bleh. :P

Any difficult characters out there trying to destroy your manuscript?

Mediocrity (Meow) and all that it enTAILS

Dork Moment:

I used to watch those $5 cartoons that you'd buy at the grocery store as spin-offs of the Disney stories because, well, my parents weren't made of money. But! There was this one cartoon about a cat, fishing, who sang a little song about Curiosity. For some reason, I still remember it. And then, today, I rewrote it to fit my life.

Original version:

Curiosity. Meow.
Curiosity. Meow.
Don't know why
I snoop and pry
To satisfy
My cur-i-os-ity!!!
Meow.

Brandi's version:

Mediocrity. Mawr.
Mediocrity. Mawr.
Don't know why
I try and try
No one'll buy
My med-i-oc-rity!!!
Mawr.

Yes, I know. It's a bit self-deprecating, but it made me smile somehow.

As far as cats go, you might be happy to know that my cat no longer resembles a zombie, though he is still a bit odd looking. He's feeling much better though. Last night he was helping me cut out a pattern for the chair that I'm reupholstering (i.e. attacking the scissors, measuring tape, fabric and MY HANDS (I was bleeding. Seriously). Gypsy (my chihuahua) had to do her part as well and dug two very well-placed holes in my cushion. Needless to say, there was foam EVERYWHERE when I got home and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

I did a fair amount of cussing, I know. Most of it, however, was at the sewing machine and not my animals. Sewing machines are evil. EVIL. I can figure out most mechanical things and I can't figure out how to thread the bobbin! ARGH!!! (It didn't occur to me to look on the internet for instructions (since the machine didn't come with any.))

But I have learned my lesson! Never again will I try to reupholster a chair. Or sew anything using a machine. Not unless I want to either A) Go insane or B) Kill someone. Most likely someone covered in fur. Or myself.

I hate being a grown-up

I was never one of those girls who was like "OMG, I can't wait until I'm sixteen, eighteen, twenty-one, etc." I looked on every year of my life that I lived with a sense of nostalgia. One year older meant fewer things I could get away with. No more dolls. No more make-believe. No more asking Mom for money.

Growing up meant hormones, bills, and responsibilities. Being a grown-up, despite it's perks (freedom from parents (sort of), ability to consume alcohol legally, voting, driving, etc.) really sucks most of the time. And I'm tired of it. I just want to ESCAPE being a grown-up for a little while.

Right now I'm in the middle of all these people and all their crap. My fiance wants to move to the country, which is fine, but he wants to move to the other side of the county, which would take me away from my family, my friends, and all the places that I'm familiar with. Maybe I'm a coward, but I like the familiar. I'm comfortable with the familiar. And I'm really bad at growing accustomed to new situations. (It scared the bejesus out of me to move into a place with my fiance (then boyfriend) and it took me MONTHS to get used to it.) The lady that he's wanting to rent from can't make up her mind though. She's not sure when we'll be able to move in. She wants to leave some of her stuff there. Etc. She can't make up her mind!!!!

Meanwhile, we're renting from my brother. It's a really great deal, a nice house with a big yard (even if it is in the middle of town) and it's reasonably quiet. We don't have to worry about a flighty landlord or nosy landlord. We pretty much can do as we please as long as we don't go knocking walls down. Well, my brother said he was going to put the house on the market. Which, to me, was the signal that we should look for somewhere to rent. But, as I have mentioned, the lady doesn't know when we'll be able to move in. So I can't tell my brother when we're moving out (if ever). And then, after I tell the lady, YES we are interested in renting from you, my brother decides not to put his house on the market after all. So, shit, we can't move out without making sure he has renters ready to move in. (This is not his stipulation, it's something I feel obligated to do since he was helping me out.) But WE DON'T KNOW WHEN WE CAN MOVE INTO THE OTHER PLACE!

Finally, I became so stressed out that I told Jake (fiance) with tears in my eyes that I couldn't take the constant NOT KNOWING anymore. Plus, our wedding is only FIVE months away and everything is being done in THIS area, so could we please just decide that we're staying where we are at until after the wedding. AT LEAST. He agreed, but with the stipulation that I have to tell the lady that we're no longer interested in the house right now.

Fucking figures.

And then my brother sends me a text message today saying that WE are stressing HIM out because of this constant "we're moving, no we're not" (as if he knows what the hell I'm going through) and gets all waspish with me and says "I'm going to make you sign a new contract after your wedding" which I say is reasonable, but it still hurts because I'm not meaning to stress anyone out (and HELLO, have you seen my mental breakdowns?) and I hate that all this somehow has become MY FAULT. (It wasn't MY decision to try to move somewhere else. Okay? That was all the FIANCE's idea. So why the fuck am I the one who has to call the lady???)

Meanwhile, I still have to call the lady and tell her we're not interested, which makes me feel like crap because I feel like I led her on. But, really, it's the other way around. And I feel bad for her because the whole reason she's moving is to be closer to her father who is dying of cancer and OMG, could I be any more GUILTY???

(And, no, I don't care that I've used multiple run-on sentences.)

(And I apologize for the cuss words. Sorry.)

Weird things you probably don't know about me

1. I love peanut M&Ms (I'm eating some right now.)

2. I could live off of pizza. Seriously. (If I didn't care about weighing 300 pounds.)

3. I love animals. All kinds. Take me to a petting zoo or a farm and I'm in heaven.

4. I have a VERY dirty, twisted sense of humor, but I try to keep it to myself.

5. I cuss in my head A LOT but rarely say it out loud.

6. I think women are more beautiful than men. (Men are hairy.) But I'm NOT lesbian.

7. If I don't get a long, luxurious shower every night, I am totally pissed.

8. I get MEAN when I'm tired, but goofy when I'm drunk.

9. I can't stand to have dirty hands. I wash my hands compulsively.

10. I am afraid of heights and tight spaces. Spiders creep me out and so do snakes, but I'll usually leave them alone as long as they aren't in my house.

AND 11. I'm allergic to cigarette smoke to the point where it gives me nose bleeds.

OMG, I just died!!

I've never laughed so hard in my life. Illustrations + craziness = hilarity.

Check this out.

Another update

Yesterday I was being a baby and posted a pathetic post. It has now been deleted and I apologize to those of you who already read it. 


My mood is a lot more optimistic today. Yay for Friday.


I DO have a suggestion for my loyal readers... and that's to take a break this weekend. Just go out and enjoy the sunshine, avoid the computer, and spend time with friends doing silly things. That's what I'm planning on doing. 


Happy weekend!

Some revelations and a little bit of heart-bruising

I didn't have a great weekend. Instead, like the pendulum of a clock, it kept swinging back and forth between good and bad. So, in the end, I guess it evened out.

I can't really remember Friday. I think it consisted of me reading a book when I got home (Once An Angel by Teresa Medeiros).

Saturday morning I went with my mom and my four-year-old cousin to Afton, Okla., to a swap meet. For those of you city-folks that don't know what a swap meet is, it's where lots of farmers and country-folk get together with their products (be that animals, plants, or crafts or just junk they found in their backyard) and try to sell it or, in some instances, "swap" for it. Hence, the name: swap meet (meet to swap). (And I just totally made that up, but it makes sense, doesn't it?) Apparently, I am a dork and an "old maid" because I enjoy spending a day looking at chickens and cats and dogs and goats and just looking at stuff. But I mainly enjoy petting the animals. And then there is this AWESOME Mexican restaurant down the road that is TO DIE FOR. So, yeah, I also go for that.

Fiance is off with his friends down at the creek when I get home (about 4 p.m.). I shampoo the carpets, read some more, and then decide to my mom's and watch Chipmunks: The Squeakquel and eat pizza. When I get home, Fiance gives me a hard time because I'd rather spend a Saturday with my mom than hang out with people my own age. To which I start crying because this is a really sensitive subject with me. The truth: I don't really have friends my own age to hang out with because they fall into one of two categories. One: They are party animals and all they do is drink and party and drink and party. It only took me a month to grow out of that phase, so I have a tendency to be bored with it. (Plus, my body doesn't like copious amounts of alcohol and it's irritating AND boring to watch other people get drunk.) Two: They are mommies. And all they want to talk about is their sweet (ugly) baby and what their doo-doo looks like. And LOOK they spit up everywhere and OMG isn't that so cute??? (I shall go somewhere and barf now.) And if I can somehow manage to get mommy away from her sticky-handed children, they're STILL all she wants to talk about. AND I DON'T CARE. REALLY! I DON'T!!! I have no children. None. And so I have no interest in talking about yours. I want to talk about OTHER things. Things that are fun and interesting. Not your child's bowel movements. I want to talk about books or movies or politics. I want to have adult conversation and do adult things that don't necessarily involve drinking until your eyeballs float. Mmkay?

And since I can't find that in someone my age, I hang out with my mom. To which Fiance tells me: make new friends. Like it's easy. Like I can just go snag somebody on the street and say, "Be my friend!" and they'll be deliriously happy to do so. I can't. I just can't. I'm shy. People have hurt me. Hurt me badly. I don't trust easily and I have a super-low self-esteem (which, for some reason, comes off as me being "stuck up") so I don't think people will like me. And when you don't think people will like you then it's really hard to put yourself out there to try to get them to like you. Thus, my dilemma.

So, I cried. And I still feel like crying, but I promised I would call a friend to see if she wanted to go to the farmer's market with me this Saturday. If she can get her husband to watch the kiddos. If she's even interested in stuff like that.

For Easter, we went to Jake's family's house. Where I hung out with the guys and played horseshoes and watched all the kids drag my poor dog around. But, I had fun. It wasn't that bad, really. But you will also notice that I hung out with the GUYS, because all the girls wanted to talk about was their kids. And, like I mentioned above, I don't care. I spent the rest of the day digging a strawberry patch. Which involved moving cinder blocks and burying them to a certain level. Gratifying work and it made me peaceful and happy.

Then, my brother calls this morning. "Guess what? I'm putting the house your living in up for sale."

Another deflation. It was just starting to feel like home. But, it's okay. I'm not mad at him or anything, because I knew it was going to happen eventually. But I really don't like the idea of people coming into the house and looking at my things and bothering my animals. ::frowny face::

We'll be moving soon, I believe.

(Oh, and still haven't heard back from other agents. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.)

How Goes It (A deluge of randomness)

I had a busy weekend. Fruitful, really.

Saturday I went grocery shopping and splurged on a cute dress and shrug. (Yeah, I know, but hey, at least it was a thrift-store.) My fiance and I decided to do "before" pictures to see if we actually accomplish anything in our mission to get fit. It was pretty sad, but not as bad as I thought. We're out of shape, but not fat...so, yeah.

Sunday I watched Gilmore Girls and dyed my hair. And then we went to get gravel for our mudslide of a driveway. This consisted of us taking buckets and shovels down to the creek and loading up a pickup truck. Lots of good exercise there (and surprisingly fun). I nearly chopped a tiny ring-neck snake in half. Jake couldn't decide if it was poisonous or not, so we just shoveled it up and deposited it elsewhere. (I don't really like snakes, but I don't hate them, so I had no desire to kill it.)

By the time we got our driveway mostly covered in gravel (we did this all by hand, mind you) we were famished, so I made dinner and we scarfed. Then we watched the first and second part of Lonesome Dove. A good movie, but horrible to watch. If you're squeamish about seeing children die and women raped, I wouldn't advise it. (They don't really show it, but you KNOW that's what happens, so it still breaks your heart.) Then I exercised (I'm seriously a bit addicted to it) and read more of The Hobbit. I'm still marveling at Tolkein's style and how it goes against almost everything I've ever been taught about writing. (Kind of like Faulkner.) It also made me ask the question, if someone tried to submit a story in this style today, would anyone be interested? Curious. Curiousss indeeds, my preciousss.

But I am enjoying it. Way more than I ever did Faulkner (sorry).

I bought a new cat food for my cat and he hates it. He won't touch it. It's the same brand, but a different flavor than I usually buy. But that was all they had! Even the dog doesn't like it that much, and she eats anything. I'll probably have to donate it to the animal shelter and buy some more (next pay check). I'll also have to take Zorro (the cat) to the vet soon. His tail is not only freaky-creepy, but I think it will need to be chopped off. The nerves are still alive (I stepped on it, accidentally, of course, and he flipped out) but it seriously resembles something from a zombie movie and I don't think the hair will ever grow back. I shudder each time it touches me. Poor kitty. He probably thinks that I hate him.

I'm still working on Dragon Queen. Still torn somewhere between frustration and depression regarding FURY. I now have a 50% rejection status. And only one of those could pass for a more personalized rejection (or else it was a really good form). I'm thinking that the query needs to be revised again before I send out more queries, but I'm at a loss as to how. I think I need to find a more specific critique forum for that. The WD Query Letter forum is a ghost thread. Really. I think I'm the most active person on there.

I've also been thinking about taking a forumite's suggestion and starting FURY with Caden's chapters. I think that they might be less...difficult...to read. Right now, the beginning is very dark and has sort of a suicide vibe. I don't think I'll get rid of those chapters, but I might move them. Sigh. Not sure.

I couldn't sleep last night. I had too many stories clamoring in my head. Story ideas I had totally forgotten about were scratching at my brain. Write me. Write me. Write me. Sigh. I think I didn't finally fall asleep until about 1 a.m. So, I'm a bit tired today and being tired makes it easier for me to be depressed, so I'm thinking happy thoughts. Happy, happy thoughts. About flowers and springtime and nothing whatsoever about queries. :)

Just go back to bed

Yesterday was crap. Today was worse. I should have taken the hint last night and just called in sick today. Because today has really sucked so far.

But, let's start with last night. I am so bone-achingly tired I felt like someone had run me over. I can deal with it, though, except that when I reach that point of exhaustion, I turn mean. I'm usually a nice person (or, at least, I keep my thoughts to myself) but I am very nasty when I'm tired. My mood sucks and I am not a joy to be around. But, I've got things to do, so taking a nap is not an option. I decide to upload photos that had been on the camera for over a month (including pics of my wedding dress) and then I just about cry. I've been working out and dieting and everything, but I look like I weigh 200 pounds in these photos. I asked my fiance, OMG, do I really look like that? Have I been deluding myself this whole time that I was getting into shape and looking better? Because I look like a cow, a fat cow. A hippo. An ugly hippo. ::cry::

He was just like "You're beautiful" which, of course, evaded my question of "do I really look like that?" So, I assume that I DO look like I weigh 200 pounds and began deleting everything and vowing to do all the things that I normally am so against (starvation, for one). I tried to give myself a pep talk last night (Just work harder, Brandi. Results will come. That angle was bad. Even super-skinny-friend looked heavier than she was (like 110 instead of 100.)) But, I was still depressed. A warning, really, to stay in bed today.

But I got up. Let the dog out. Drank half a cup of coffee and preceded to get ready for work. I set my cup of coffee down, let the dog back in, and she begins drinking it. Gross, right? So, I dump what's left, rinse out the cup, and pour some more coffee. I take a sip--and just about throw up. Apparently, before Gypsy (the dog) decided to have coffee, she partook of something dead. So my cup smelt like something had died in it. (I am still amazed that I didn't throw up.) Fiance laughs. I tell him that it is SO not funny.

I brush my teeth and gargle about three bottles worth of mouthwash (ok, not that much, but you get the point). Finish getting ready for work, but have to eat breakfast still. (Yeah, a lovely thought.) I abandon coffee and decide to have milk instead. I get a fresh cup from the cabinet, pour the milk and down it. At the bottom of the cup, there is a crust of something that hadn't been washed out the last time it had been used. I am close to screaming at this point. Or crying. Or just having a mental break. Because YUCK. Gross. Disgusting. Fiance laughs again (he was probably the one who didn't get the cup clean). I want to murder him. Now, everything just looks disgusting. I forced myself to eat a piece of toast with peanut butter (of course, the toast burnt) just so that I don't pass out at work.

But now I'm still queasy. I swear I can still smell that nasty smell. I think I'm going to be sick. Yes, you're welcome. Glad to share.