Tissues for my Issues.

The first time around when I was attempting to lose weight seemed easier.  I’m not sure if it’s because I was more focused or if maybe I wanted it more the first time around.  I feel as if I should want it more this time – wanting to get off of medication & get my numbers under control sounds like a fantastic reason to pull off weight.  Especially since I wasn’t on any then but am now.

I don’t remember being this tired the first time.  Two years ago I had decided, even on the weekend when I work, that I would wake up, exercise and eat better.  I did well on it.  (Weekends waking up at 2 pm – since I work from 6pm to 6am.)  I don’t feel as if I had this much trouble those many years ago.  I mean, yes, don’t get me wrong – I do remember having days/nights where I honestly didn’t want to do anything & just wanted to eat fried chicken and cheese sticks.  I didn’t.  I stuck to my plan.  I pushed myself to exercise even on days I didn’t want to.  THANKSGIVING of that year I had dinner and then exercised for an hour.

I was so proud of myself.

This time around I’m having many issues.  Eating issues.  (I don’t eat as bad as I used to but I still have my issues.)  Exercising issues.   I decided that I would get a gym membership (which I did) and I would go with my friend twice a week – the other days going for walks at a walking path we have in town.  I think since I began this (starting seriously beginning in April) I have exercised well for a week & then just having a good day here and there.

Food wise…  Ugh!  That I don’t even want to talk about.  The first time I shopped mostly at Aldi’s since they have so many low calorie products.  For breakfast I would range from cereal with fruit and toast, to breakfast tacos (corn tortillas, eggs, sausage & cheese).  Then for snacks it was usually things like tiny bags of cookies, or Cheese Its.  For lunch, when at work I’d make a sandwich with chips but at home I’d make a bowl of soup, or a chicken salad.  Then a snack.  Then for dinner I would make chicken or tuna with pasta, a little sauce, and a vegetable.  I never took anything from myself meaning, if I wanted it I ate it.  I wouldn’t tell myself no – which worked – well.  From September to December I had pulled off 50 pounds.  (Couldn’t tell, but I did.)

I figured I would do the same thing this time around.  I still remember what I ate, how to eat it, the amounts, and I still have everything I had then (equipment wise).  So why am I having such a hard time with it?  I cannot blame it on the fact that this time I live with people.  They have all said they wouldn’t mind if we changed it up a little.  I know every single person in my household would welcome lighter foods and smaller amounts.  I decided to attempt to pull weight off and get off the medication and it seems as if we eat out more than we did before.  It’s as if I just stopped cooking.  (Which is one of my favorite things to do.)

The boyfriend bought me a slow cooker for this!  How many people do that for each other?  He bought me something so I could take my lunch to work, them have something healthier to eat when I’m at work, so I would no longer have to  buy bad for me foods.  I think since he bought it I did it for one weekend.  (Mostly because everything I have cooked in it comes out watery – even after cooking for nearly nine hours.)

I know I’m sabotaging myself.

I can do this because I have done it before.  I gave serious thought to having the weight-loss surgery but I can’t bring myself to do it.  I don’t feel like I’m there yet.  I know… I KNOW I can do this.  It’s all up to me and I keep getting in my own way.  No one else.  But how can you fix a problem when you’re not 100% sure what’s stopping you?

I thought I had the motivation I needed to go all the way this round but it seems like the more I try the more I fail.  I think half of my hump is that I am so tired.  Tired.  Extra tired.  I know for a fact that half of it is my medication & if I can get off of it I won’t be as tired.  To get off of them I have to lose weight.  I have to wake up and exercise to lose weight.

It’s a circle and I keep walking around in a triangle.

I tell myself every now and again that it’s okay if I miss a day – I’ll make it up tomorrow.  The problem is that tomorrow never comes and I end up not doing anything.  It’s getting to the point that I don’t wake up for days.  I don’t remember sleeping like this since I stepped to the bright side of depression (topic for another day).  I remember then sleeping for days only waking up to use the restroom, eat, and at times go to work.  But once I walked up the hill at that point in my life I began sleeping more like a “normal” human.  I’m back to only waking up for bathroom breaks and to make dinner for everyone.  But then of course, the nights I need to sleep I can’t.  Like right now, for an example, it’s two after six in the morning and I have to be up at two in the afternoon to get ready to be at work by five-thirty to do day one of my three twelve hour day work week.  But like most Friday nights/Saturday mornings, I am not tired – so here I sit.

I have plans for myself “tomorrow”.  Wake up at two in the afternoon and go for a walk.  Come home and make something to take to work.  (No one saw it because I’m on a computer, but I just rolled my eyes.)  We’ll see what happens after I finally go to sleep and wake up.

The Cure: Part One.

I began boring myself with my writing.  Running out of people to write for.  So while at work I decided to email the woman who runs a monthly hand out paper and asked if I might be able to write a story for it.  After talking about a few things we decided on an on-going story.  I figured I would share it..  I have no idea where I’m actually taking it but this is the beginning and I’ll have Part Two in June.

He dodged the strike as the bolt of lightning flew just passed his face pushing him over onto his back.  He rolled underneath a broken tree and flung himself forward getting back to his feet and without missing a beat he continued to run.  He could feel his heart beat in his toes but pushed forward hoping to escape.  But where he was he couldn’t quite figure out as all of the scenery around him was new.

Zaire was scared, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time, but tonight as he made his way through a forest trying not to trip, he felt it.  He didn’t waste any moments by stopping and looking back to see if he was out running them, or try to find things to hurl at whatever may or may not be behind him.  He didn’t like the chase he was in but he has to keep going; had to let it keep following him to get to where he needed to be.
The lack of knowledge is what scared him the most.  He had no idea how many people were behind him or what they were after.

His breath hitched and came to a complete stop the moment his body came in contact with a large Oak tree.  Falling backwards he slammed hard onto the ground a tiny puff of dirt flying up around him.  His head was groggy but he could see the figure standing above him.  It didn’t move, but span the length of three large trees and continued to grow.  Zaire felt the eyes of the large shadow bore into his soul.  A small growl rumbled around him as his eyes fluttered shut.

**********

Zaire stumbled out of his front door dropping all of the paperwork he had been holding.  He huffed as he bent picking up one paper at a time.  Lucky for him the wind wasn’t blowing and was actually able to pick them up without having to run a mile; he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have made it.  The last few days for him have been good days but today didn’t seem he was as lucky.

He took a couple deep breaths sitting in his driver’s seat trying to settle his stomach.  He fiddled through the papers he had dropped attempting to put them back in order from ascending date. He knew he should have bought that brief case he was looking at the other night but talked himself out of it thinking it wasn’t an important purchase.  Surprising, even to himself, he hadn’t started purchasing items that wasn’t necessary.

The sun was bright as he made his way the new doctor’s office, 1124B Room 13 West Sioux Ave – he repeated that to himself many times since he googled the address.  His last doctor decided he needed to see someone who may specialize in his condition and actually help, rather than give a time line of when he may perish all together.  Anything was better than nothing – he felt as if he still had a lot to live for, even if there is nothing in his life.

He did have everything he could have imagined including a job, and a girlfriend.  His job was great, for him, at a book publishing company as an editor.  He may not have made as much money as he wanted to but he had so many opportunities of moving up in the company that he just wanted to wait for his turn.  His girlfriend left three months into the whole process, just as his hair began falling out, stating that she wouldn’t be able to be seen around town with a bald man who could fall over dead at any time.  It took a while for him to recover the break up; especially since she did it over the dinner he planned to propose.  He still has the ring sitting in a drawer – for the longest he hoped she’d come back.

She never did.

He stood on the sidewalk out front of the doctor’s office and hesitated for a brief moment.  The building wasn’t what he was expecting especially since it was more of a duplex and it was connected to a large strip club he used to frequent as a teenager.  A few friends of his recently took him in there and either he was stupid as a teenager or his taste had changed.

He noticed that you were no longer allowed to smoke inside of the bar but instead it reeks of incense and the lights are kept dim, he was sure it was to hide stretch-marks as the “talent pool” wasn’t terribly deep and they didn’t want to ruin the general male fantasy.  One of the bartenders that were leaning against the bar; she had to be near thirty with a Barbie-thin waist and was ridiculously fake-looking.  She stood out compared to the rest of the bartenders as they were ordinary, like they went into a Wal-Mart and picked random customers to mix drinks and smile – a lot.  The building is run-down and sad – a nice older building that was aging badly on the side of town that is still circling the drain and losing many manufacturing jobs in the past forty years.

He was having second thoughts about going to this doctor.

Taking one last long breath of fresh air and adjusting the hat he had put on getting out of the car he made his way up the dark steps and into the building that seemed just as dark as the coloring of the building.  Maybe some of the lights were out, he thought to himself as he began looking for room 13.  The building almost felt like a library to Zaire as he walked, almost in a tip-toe, down the long corridor.  The walls were bare and solid white and smelled of licorice.

He cautiously approached room thirteen, not knowing for sure what was about to happen – will he finally be told how to cure whatever it is he had?  Or will this be another dead end for him?

The door squeezed open as he pushed on it gently and he walked into a large well decorated room with thirteen chairs and three welcome windows.  A woman in her mid-forties smiled a large crooked smiled in his direction and waved him over.  He faked a smile as best as he could and stood in front of the window she slid open.

“How may I help you this fine morning?”  Her long straight red hair bounced as she spoke.

He squinted toward her name tag that dangled from a lanyard around her neck, still clutching all of his paperwork tightly to his chest, which read Ruby.  “I have an appointment to see the doctor.”

“Oh yes, yes, yes.”  Ruby clicked a few buttons on her keyboard and blinked toward the computer screen.  “You must be Zaire.”

“Yes ma’am, he told me to be here around ten and that he would be able to fit me in.  It isn’t going to take long for him to tell me I’ll be dead in a month.”

Ruby shook her head, “Oh darling, don’t think of it like that.  Doctor Zephor has performed miracles before.  Maybe you’ll be his next.”

Zaire made sure not to hold his breath for miracles.  When everything first began it just a headache then moved to body aches and chills.  From there he began having muscle pains and his bones began breaking easily along with scabs forming on his arms without hurting himself.  Then his hair loss began along with the sight in his left eye, which is now glossed over, and is missing about four teeth.  He either wanted the cure for whatever it is he has or death – which ever happened first.

A thick accented voice called from an open doorway, “Zaire McIntosh – the doctor will see you now.”

The office was pretty empty except for a cluttered desk holding a laptop, a television that hung in the corner, and two chairs.  He sat nervously still holding all of his paperwork close to his person waiting for the doctor to come and speak to him about options.  Zaire leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.  His body was so tired all he wanted to do is go home and lie down and sleep for a little while.  For a brief moment he dozed, finally able to shut his brain off momentarily.

A small wheezy voice broke into his slumber slightly waking him.  His eyes opened enough for a light to shine through and he turned toward where the voice came from.  At first he didn’t see anyone and figured he had to have been dreaming but then, as he began to doze again, a girl with long brown hair and large brown eyes sat beside him.

“You don’t look very healthy.”  Her voice squeaked at every other word.

He blinked at her a couple times, “I don’t feel very healthy.  That’s why I’m at a doctor’s clinic.”

“Do you have hemogoblinataris?”  She asked in a matter-of-a-fact way.

Zaire coughed, “I don’t believe I know what that is.”

“It’s what my town has that’s destroying the whole thing.  You resemble what a lot of them look like.”

“Did you come here to get medication for it?”

Laughter freed itself from her.  “Medication… No, there isn’t one; the doctor will even tell you that.  I however know there’s a cure.”

“If there isn’t medication for this then how would there be a cure?”

She sighed, “It’s like an antidote, if you will, and I was told where it’s at.”

Zaire crinkled his forehead, “Then why are you here and not there getting it?”

“I came to talk to the doctor because when I was told about it they said it’s either here with this crazy doctor or in the other location.  So I came here first and spoke to Dr. Zephor to see if he had it.  He said there is no such antidote for this disease and anyone telling me different is giving me hope that doesn’t exist.”

He sighed, “Is this contagious?”

“There isn’t much known about it, but as far as I have seen, no, it’s not.  I haven’t gotten it but ninety-percent of my town has it.  I was one of the lucky ones that were out of town when the grains came in.  Everyone made so much bread that week and everyone who ate it got sick.  Do you know how you got it?”

He looked at this girl who sat in front of him with so much more knowledge about something that was killing him slowly and he knew nothing. He has visited so many doctors and had so many tests but no one could tell him what it was or how he got it.  But as he sat there he thought back to when he first began getting sick.  “When did they get the grain?”

“Oh goodness, three years ago, I think.”

His thoughts drifted off into space, “And you said they made bread out of the grain?”

Her eyes softened slightly, “Did you eat it?”

He sighed, “I think so.  Of course, I’m not one hundred percent, but I’m pretty sure I did.”

Zaire placed all of his paperwork onto the desk belonging to Dr. Zaphor and leaned back in his chair, his heart pounding.  He was told once a while back that it was probably something he ate but of course he kept denying it.  Why would someone poison food that could and would harm people who hadn’t done anything to anyone else?  He couldn’t grasp why anyone would think someone would deserve to die.

The girl let out some air, “My name is Quinn.”

He kept looking off into space, “I’m Zaire.”

Quinn nudged Zaire’s right arm, “You know, I’ve decided to go on a mission to get the cure.  If you’re able, you know, you could come with me.  I could help you and you could help me – especially since you and I both need the same exact thing.”

He thought about it for a couple moments thinking about the fact that this was the first time he had met her.  What would possess someone to ask a complete stranger to accompany them on a mission trip to find something that they honestly don’t know if it even exists?

“How do you know for sure it actually exists?”

Quinn laughed to herself, “I don’t know that it does for sure.  The only thing I do know is that I have to try everything I can to help my town.  I cannot just let them all die and you look like you’re a little too young to die yourself.  So why not?”

“What is old enough to die anymore?  Everyone is dying too soon to everyone in their lives unless like are in their 90’s – then everyone says the same thing, well, they lived a full life.  Did they really?  How do we know if they fulfilled everything they wanted?  Who is to say they lived a full life?  We aren’t them – we don’t know.”

“Woah, Zaire, I’m going to take it you’re not quite ready to die.”  She smiled to herself, “Come with me.”

“So, let’s say I agree and go with you, where exactly are we going?”

Quinn stood up and walked over to the door before stopping, “Tesla Island.”

Zaire stopped for a moment, “Seriously?”

“Yes, I’m completely serious.  They say there is an old cave on it and right next to it, not in it, but next to it there is a spot that if you dig you pull up an old box.  Inside the box is the recipe of how to make it.”

“Wait, we have to make it?”  Zaire didn’t like the idea of doing that.

“Well, yeah, how else would we get enough for you and my whole town?”

Zaire knew better than to agree to this.  He knew better than to put all of his hope into something that more than likely doesn’t exist.  Why would someone just randomly put a recipe for a disease that no one would know if someone would ever get in a box on an island?  How did Quinn find out about this?  If someone messed with grain knowing they’d all die from it who would go against that and help cure it?

“One last question before I say yes or no.  Who told you about where it’s at?”

Quinn opened the doctor’s door and looked at him with an emotionless stare, “It came to me in a dream.”

“Seriously, a dream,” Zaire was speechless.  Who, in their right mind, starts on a mission from something they seen in a dream?  “I think I’m going to sit out on this one.  I just don’t think I can bring myself to do this if it’s just a guess.”

“Fine,” Quinn huffed, “Suit yourself!”

On the drive home Zaire had a lot of information to process.  Doctor Zaphor finally came into his office after Quinn left and told him exactly what the others did.  He said within a year, if even that, he’d be dead and it would probably happen when he’s asleep.  The thought scared him – not because he’d be dead, but because he hasn’t accomplished anything he wanted to.  What does he have to show for himself?  Who is going to remember him?  All of the thought swirled around in his head making it hurt.  He knew this wasn’t healthy but he was nowhere near ready to part the Earth.

“I wanted to write a book,” He said out loud to himself as a tear began to fall.

But he couldn’t write a book – he hadn’t done anything.  He played it safe all of his life and now – now what does he have to show for it?  Nothing – an empty house, no friends or family around, no job and no love of his life.

He pulled into his drive way and put his car in park.  He got out and walked away leaving everything he once thought would save his life behind in the car.  He made his way into his house and straight into his bedroom where pictures had been scattered.  He stopped and looked around realizing this isn’t how he left his house.  Who had been in here?  Curious, he made his way back into the living room and then into the kitchen – both rooms had been destroyed.

What would someone be looking for in his house?  It’s not like him to keep things sitting around that has great meaning or worth a lot of money.  He only has one prized possession and that’s a ring that he put in a box in a vent – no one would find it.

His cell phone ringing startled him.

“Hello?”  He almost didn’t answer since he didn’t know the number.

A monotone voice rang in his ears, “Do not go with Quinn.”

“Excuse me, who is this?”

The voice’s tone didn’t change, “Do not go with Quinn.”

“I don’t…”  Before he was able to get all of the words out his phone went quiet.  He held his phone in his palm staring down at it.  What just happened?  What could Quinn be into that would have someone call him out of the blue and tell me not to go?

A small tap at his front door brought his attention from the caller.  He made his way to the door.  He wasn’t used to getting visitors since he had gotten sick.  It was if everyone had decided that what he had was contagious and they just stopped coming around.  He was more or less okay with that since every time someone was around him they’d only give him the I’m so sorry your sick look and he was tired of it.

He cracked the front door open just wide enough to see out of it.  “Quinn?”

“I really need your help Zaire.  I cannot get this cure without you.”

Zaire thought about the phone call and wondered if this was such a bright idea.  But the side of him that was hoping for a cure was a lot stronger than the side telling him not to.  “Why me?”

Quinn fidgeted on her feet.  “I need someone that has something to lose to do this with me.  I need dedication.”

“I just don’t know if this is something I would be interested in doing.”

She huffed, “So you’d rather just die than go on a small vacation with a person who just wants to help?”

“You don’t want to help me; you don’t even know me…”

Quinn interrupted him, “Who cares whether I know you or not.  If you want to die I will leave and if you don’t be ready by eight in the morning because that’s when I’m catching the boat.”  She turned quickly and left before he had the chance to say another word.  Great, he thought, now I have to think about this all night.

20 Random Facts…

…about me.

I’m a few days behind on beginning this but I figure late is better than never.  On the list I found of 30 Day Writing, number one said 20 Random Facts About Me.  So I figured I’d do that.  Some that read this may actually already know these facts but I have to start somewhere.

Fact Number One:  I would give everything up to be a writer full time & make a living out of it.
Fact Number Two: If I were under the age of eighteen I would be  considered an orphan.
Fact Number Three: It irritates me more than anything when people take their parents for granted.
Fact Number Four: I’m the youngest out of my siblings (& no matter what people say, it’s not always a good thing.)
Fact Number Five: I’d rather watch television shows than movies.
Fact Number Six: My favorite colors are red & green.
Fact Number Seven: I only crave one thing to eat, every day, Chinese food.
Fact Number Eight: I would take snow all year long & be excited about it.
Fact Number Nine: I have an irrational fear of all of my teeth falling out.
Fact Number Ten: I have fallen in love twice in my lifetime – with the same man.
Fact Number Eleven: I spend too much time on Facebook.
Fact Number Twelve: I’m obsessed with Johnny Depp.
Fact Number Thirteen: I enjoying cooking & when I am I’m probably the happiest.
Fact Number Fourteen: I love to laugh.
Fact Number Fifteen: I’m way too stressed for my age.
Fact Number Sixteen: If I could be on any TV show I’d want to be on SNL.
Fact Number Seventeen: This has taken me two hours & I’m still not done.
Fact Number Eighteen: I’m a misplaced Texan. :)
Fact Number Nineteen: My pet peeves are weird.
Fact Number Twenty: I like playing board games.

After two episodes of Once Upon A Time & half an episode of SNL, I finally finished this.  This was a lot harder than I figured it would be.

 

Writing Daily…

Authors write.  It’s what they do.
Daily.  It’s how they roll.
I’m not an author.  Haven’t finished a book completely. (Almost.)
I don’t write daily.  I can’t always seem to focus.

Does that make me less of a writer?  I ponder that a lot.  So I figured instead of pondering on that topic anymore I’m going to make a decision to write something everyday.  It may just be a quick entry to say hello to the world but it will be something nonetheless.  I just figure if I’m going to eventually be a published author then I must start on that dream now.  &&& since no one will hire me to write full time I might as well just enjoy the blog while I can.

Plus, you never know – this blog may become something bigger.  Doubt it.  But hey!  I can dream.  So I messed around on Pinterest until I found a couple “30 Day Writing Challenges” and picked a couple to choose from.  Figured I can pick two and choose my favorites and then write.  I figured that would be my best route.

Not a resolution.

Two years ago I had decided I was ready to finally pull off weight.  I changed my diet, began exercising, and sleeping normally.  I was pumped!  After four months I had pulled off 40 pounds – I was beyond excited.  I had no intentions of ever stopping until I reached my goal and was able to continue eating like I was without a calorie counter.  Yes!  I’m a calorie counter.

The fifth month rolled around and I began having pains in my feet so bad that when I stopped moving I was unable to stand back on them.  When I woke up after sleeping I fell over and found myself crawling through my house – a lot.  I finally scheduled an appointment with a foot doctor I don’t know the actual name and after some x-rays he figured out that I had plantar fasciitis.  After giving me a shot my feet felt a million times better.

I never really got back into the groove the feet issues took and, well, it’s been two years and I have put back on the weight I lost plus more.  I figured everything would be okay since I haven’t really had any health problems associated with my weight.  Why worry when there isn’t a reason to worry?

In 2014, I decided it was time to finally go to a doctor for a check up – I began feeling weird.  Extremely tired, pains in weird places, etc.  I was diagnosed with high blood pressure and my A1C (number that determines whether you have diabetes) was a little higher than he wanted (they want it less than a 7.0 & mine was a 6.7.)  There is when we started the struggle with finding the medicine that would help and not cause me any issues.  The first set of blood pressure pills made me cough which he said was not a good thing.  Okay, that’s fine, so we moved on to another kind – which is what I still take.  The A1C pill hasn’t changed since I began taking the medicine.

Lately, however, when I take my A1C pill I start feeling… weird.  My head will go light making me dizzy at times, I get extremely tired (there are times where I just want to close my eyes and rest), and my stomach gets very sick to itself.  I haven’t taken it in a few days which is probably causing me more issues than anything.

After a lot of thought I decided that I would get back to making myself healthy.  Exercising and eating right is the plan.  I halfway started yesterday when I got a membership at a gym and started going.  Twice so far.  It may not seem like much, but it’s a big change for someone who is usually found in bed watching television unless they HAVE to get up and do something.

The last couple of years my attitude and health has changed a lot.  I remember being able to walk through Wal-Mart for hours without any trouble, and now I have issues.

Yesterday I started out well.  Ate less than my allotted calories and spent an hour at the gym.  Hooray!  Today, however, I had a harder time. Nothing to destroy anything – I still have work to do.  (Mostly, grocery shopping.  When all you have in your house is macaroni and cheese, & potatoes, you have to buy some things.)  Today was just one of those days where you stand there and think if I shove anymore food in my mouth I’m going to slap myself.  It wasn’t a lot but I know for a fact I ran over my allotted calorie intake for today but I am not going to let it get me down.

Tomorrow is another day.

Need The Pickle.

I’m not much of a gambler, not because I don’t want to win, but because after I spend the money I feel horrible for spending money that could have went for something else; anything else, more important.  This week I decided to swallow my pride and actually agree to “gamble” with money that was hard earned.  What happened and what I learned is as follows.

Wednesday, January 6, I was digging through some of my mother’s stuff that she had in her purse (the coupons that expired in 1997 made me laugh out loud) and in it was two lottery tickets that hadn’t be bought.  Basically what I think happened is that my mother went into a store, more than likely with my grandmother, and filled out two lottery tickets.  Walked around the store for a couple minutes & then decided to not buy them for the fact that she probably didn’t have the extra ten dollars to do so.  So instead, she shoved them into her purse which eventually fell to the bottom where she forgot they were and went on with her life.  But then, I could be wrong.

From that point on that’s all I heard about.  The Powerball is over 500 million.  All day – every time I turned around – I joked about it at one point saying “If I believed in signs I would totally buy me a lottery ticket.”  I was joking, of course, because I’m not a gambler.

By Thursday night the boyfriend & I decided to buy a ticket – nothing special just a couple numbers.  It wasn’t anything to get in a fuss over but I will say this much, I can’t speak for everyone that gambles or who has bought a lottery ticket in the past, but for a brief solid minute when I was handed my ticket I was calm.  Nothing bothered me and I felt free.  I felt as if there was nothing that would bother me again and all my problems were taken care of.  I felt a sense of being free.  Quickly many things ran through my mind that I could get or help with.  I pictured a house and a new car (need a bigger house & have had the same car for ten years), kitchen full of groceries, and new furniture.  I pictured the looks on family’s faces when I handed the more money than they could even count in their heads.  I pictured tipping a waitress 100$ just because it would make them smile.

For a single, sad, brief moment…

I slammed myself back into reality because logically I knew that I wouldn’t win & wouldn’t be a multibillionaire.  That’s common sense but we did play.  We bought us a ticket and spent 15$.  I waited two days until the numbers came out and nothing.  I didn’t match one number on five games.

It’s a saddening feeling when you realize that you’re not lucky enough to win something that could change you & everyone around you in an instant.  Now I sit here and I wonder whether I want another ticket, or two, to try for the 1.3 billion dollars that it’s up to.  The only thing I do know is what my grandfather once told me, “You will never win if you don’t play.”  It’s the truest thing anyone has ever said.  But I don’t know if I can afford to blow 15$ to 30$ again just so my numbers aren’t drawn.

Now I find myself wondering how other people feel.  Do they sit around and mope for hours afterwards because their numbers sucked and didn’t win anything?  Do they just toss the piece of paper into the trash and go about their day?  Did they, for a single brief moment, think this could change my mind & I hope I win?

The only thing I know for sure is that life goes on and I have dreams and such.  Will my dream make me a multibillionaire?  Probably not – I’m not Stephen King, E.L James, or some other author that has sold 10,000,000 books, made 5,000,000 movies and receive 100,000,000 dollars.  (That seems exaggerated.)

Meh…

On a totally new subject, I haven’t talked about it much lately because I haven’t done much on it (still editing) but the book is slowly coming together.  However I came to a stop – sort of.  Ever since I began writing this story I have decided that it was a sandwich.  Beginning is the bread, middle is the bologna, cheese, mayo, pickles, and the ending is bread.  For a while I have felt like something was missing that I couldn’t pin point not that I haven’t tried.  Tonight I finally realized what was missing.  Of course, though, I cannot go into great detail.  We’ll just say that now that I have figured it out, I can fix it.  Sadly, at the moment, I don’t have the answers && I’m pretty sure it’s going to add at least three chapters into the story.  This may be complicated…  But all I do know is if I want this book to be half way decent, I have to figure out this pickle.  Without the pickle I have a whole in the whole story.  I wouldn’t worry about it but I have mentioned some of it.  I could just take it out, but then I have to take out a lot more && I feel like this needs to be in it.

I just don’t know – I just know there is way too much to think about &&& not enough time to figure it out.  Okay, that’s a lie – I have all the time in the world unless I want to finish this book completely by the age of 30.  Yes, I gave myself a two year gap.  It’s not unreasonable to put a two year gap to finish a book that I’ve basically finished.  All I have to do is finish the edit process – figure out my pickle – edit again, read it completely through, throw it away because I hate it – dig it out of the trash because I worked too hard on it, flick off the nasties that the trash left on it, notice all of the pencil marks throughout it, edit again, and then print the finished project.  Then of course I’ll stare at it and explain to the boyfriend the 5,000,000 reasons why I should not try and attempt to publish this book – one of which being, this book sucks butt and no one is ever going to want to read it let alone buy it.  He will of course tell me that I’m wrong, because that’s his job.

But then again, I’m still in the early stages of this whole deal – so what do I know?

To Read Or Not To Read…

I follow quite a few blogs on here that, when I followed, I figured I would read daily.  Just sit around and read, read, and read.  But ever since I started following them I realized that I have actually never read them.  Any of them.  I think I did when I first followed them.  I don’t want you to think that I just randomly follow people’s blogs without ever reading anything.  I did, at first and I liked what I read.  But since the day I followed them I haven’t read them.

What brought this on?

Well, I actually just followed a blog that I have never read anything from just because I’m a fan of them.  (A chef from The Food Network).  It just makes me wonder if anyone is actually reading what I write.  &&&& yes, I am kind of caring whether anyone does or not.  I could sit here and lie and say that I don’t care if anyone reads anything I write and I’m just doing this for myself.  But like I said – that would be a lie.

I started this blog for one reason – so people can read me.  That way people who don’t know me can read something daily (I don’t write daily, sadly) and get to know my writing style.  Why?  It’s what writers do.

I have read many things (and said many times on here) that I need a following if I ever wish to get published.  One day I hope to get published so I need a following.  Other than, of course, friends and family.  So basically, that’s why I still have this blog &&& twitter for that matter.  I tried making a Facebook for the writer side of me, but it wanted to be hooked to my personal one and it’s private which made everything private.  It doesn’t work quite like that.  So I deleted the writer side and kept twitter and this blog.

So now I try to write as much as I can.  I tend to forget to open this and will go days if not months without ever writing.  Then when I finally do write something I sit back and look at it and think it’s dumb.  So I end up deleting it and never writing another.  Yes, I have done that many times.

I cannot remember my point behind this. Heh.

Christmas Spirit

There is a commercial that plays where a family is welcoming people in and they are handing out gifts with a soft Christmas song playing in the background. There is laughter & many smiles.  Dad, mom, children, grand parents, uncles, aunts – everyone you can imagine. You can tell by watching it that you should feel something.  Anything.

Me?  Nothing.

I go through this feeling yearly and I can’t seem to fix it.  I have been searching for the Christmas Spirit that I remember as a child.  Growing up I remember my mother having it – or so it seemed.  Maybe she didn’t?  I cannot really ask now.  Maybe she faked it well.  Another issue I have?  I cannot even seem to fake the spirit.

Yes, I have things about Christmas I’ll always enjoy.  I love buying gifts and giving them out.  I love the lights, the cold, and the snow.  But it’s that tiny spark people get I cannot seem to find.

I wish I could.  I wish I could feel that something I felt as a child when my brother & I would wake up at six in the morning and sit in front of the Christmas tree.  That feeling I had as I watched my mother prepare dinner or the glee I felt as the days counted down.

I remember watching our local channel all night as “Santa Claus” made his way around the world.  It always made me smile to know that he’d be at my house soon.  I would always make sure, once he got around New York, that I would go to sleep so he’d show up.  After that my mother would hurriedly fill our stockings and leave out the Santa gifts.  Then in the morning we’d have unwrapped presents waiting for us and we’d know that we’d been good and Santa made it – even if we didn’t have a chimney. (My mom told us how he’d shrink and go under the door.  As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that is pretty creepy.  But it’s still the story I’d pass down to the younger generation.)

Now it seems as if the older I get the less and less I enjoy.  (That actually may be half the reason I get so irritated with people when they tell me I should not like cartoons anymore because I am too old.  What should I be watching?  Soap operas?)

Now that I am dating a guy with children I feel like I should be feeling something – if not for me, at least for them.  I can only fake whatever it is I’m missing for so long.  Slowly the “it” I’m faking is fading.  Normally I would be sending out Christmas cards – but does anyone really care about them anymore?  No.  Because I send them to adults and it seems as if all adults feel the same way.  Sparkles and laughter in front of the children but behind doors it’s pure cynical and bad attitudes.

I always knew I didn’t want to become an adult, but I honestly didn’t think I would lose everything I felt that made me happy in doing so.

Now it makes me wonder how many more years will I have loving cartoons before I wake up one day & just not care.  How many more years will I enjoy coloring or putting puzzles together?  How many more years, since I am only twenty-eight years old, do I have before I become the shell of a person I was and become nothing?  How many years do I have before I become the adult I never wanted to become?

Needs to write more…

I wonder a lot if all writers go through blocks.  Not a writers block.  Just a block in general.

I have been finished with the story for nearly a year but yet I am only up to chapter four in corrections.  The first set of corrections.  I honestly feel as if I should be further along than what I am.  What makes it worse is that I haven’t been writing anything else, either.

Writers are supposed to write.
Writers are supposed to read.

I cannot seem to do either.

The last book I remember reading was the third book in the Gabriel trilogy by Sylvian Reynard.  I read that right after it came out.

I took up sewing in hopes that maybe it can clear out a hole in my head that I plugged up.  But all it has accomplished is now I have millions of tiny pillows in my bedroom that don’t have a purpose.  Anyone need pillows?

I pretty sure I am going to put away the sewing and get back to writing.  I walked through a book section in a store and all I could think, “one day my name will be on one of these books.”  When?  I’m not sure of that yet.  But I know one day.

I don’t have anything…

I’m sadly not an authority in anything.

I want to get a second job to make some extra money – mostly for small things around the house.  But I realized a few months/years ago that I am way to lazy.  (My sit down computer job made me this way.)  && I realized that i don’t want to do anything.  I went through a list of places hiring around town: Homeland (town grocery store) – I would only want to be a cashier but I would want a reclining chair.  But I just know they’d want me to stock shelves and wouldn’t give me a scooter cart to do so.  Valero is hiring, (convenience store) – basically, when you work there you do everything.  Sometimes working completely alone and not having anyone to help for hours at a time.  Have you ever tried to run a register, cook deep fried bad for foods, stocks shelves, and handle pissed off truckers at the same time?  No?  Eh, neither have I.  &&& I don’t really want to.  Most of the fast food places are hiring, but I have been there and I don’t particularly like the jokes that come along with being in a “fast food” place when you’re overweight.  ((Being a chef is different when you’re overweight.  That’s when they LOVE you.))

So basically what I am saying is that i want a part-time job where I don’t have to do anything.  What kind of idea did I have?  That’s right!  Online job.  There are many online jobs that only problem I have – I am not any good at anything.  I don’t have any particular knowledge about anything to do online jobs.

I also went through the list of blogging for money but everything says the same thing, “is looking for experienced online freelance writers who are credible authorities in their fields and capable of conveying information to users in a friendly, enthusiastic, and compelling way.”  

What was I getting at?

See! That’s my problem.

Gotta go!