When getting what you want isn't all it's cracked up to be

Have you ever gotten what you wanted, and the thought of it makes you completely exhausted?  Not the thought of how you got it, but the thought of having it.  I feel that way.  Exhausted, but in a strange way, also glad, because it's what I wanted.
But seriously, exhausted.
In the past...today's Tuesday, so...five days.  In the past five days, I've gotten approximately seventeen hours of sleep.  But in a good way, I'm content.
I'm even content that I had to drive in the snow yesterday with a busted windshield wiper.
Funny story, that.  I was on my way to Brookfield for Justin's and my movie of the month (since we ran out of month, we had to choose between Thor: The Dark World and Catching Fire.  I chose Thor.), which is normally about an hour's drive for me.  Well, being that it had snowed and I wasn't sure of the roads...in the dark, I decided to leave early, just in case.
Well, I get out past 5 Corners and realize that while the cars in front of me are kicking up nasty stuff onto my windshield, my wipers were caked with ice and only making the visibility worse.  So I pulled into a parking lot to clean them off.
I grabbed the driver's side wiper to pull it up and the wiper blade popped completely off.  I kid you not, just popped off and went flying.  One of the nursery clerks went to grab a coworker who was good with stuff like that (since I was kind of looking at the blade in helpless bemusement, with absolutely no idea what I was doing).  He summarily informed me it was broken, so we wedged the thing back in and I made my way to the movies, convinced that at any moment, the thing was going to go flying whenever I turned my wipers on.
It didn't, by the way.  I made it to the movies and back from, and even to Walmart for a replacement blade, which I will install in a few minutes.
Pepper is manic.  So far she's attacked the snow shovel, chased a helicopter across the yard, and tried to convince a rather smug sparrow that she is a ferocious, dangerous beast.  The sparrow wasn't buying it.


Poster for truly awesome web-series RWBY
Art found here

Incidentally, about the picture...one of my new favorite shows.  I was watching it last night, and I was struck by how much like a Final Fantasy it is.  Ruby and Nora are my favorite characters, mostly because Ruby's just awesome, and Nora's so...random.  More on this later.

I think the banner says it all

Done



It's a feeling that's difficult to describe.  On the one hand, sheer excitement.  So much excitement, in fact, that I started to cry.  It was a bubbling something in my chest that bade me tell someone or I would explode.
Naturally, I called my mom first.  In tears, but of the good kind.
"Unlooked For" is finished.
I have written a book.

Final count: 51,421 words.

Of course, that's only the first draft.  But it's finished, and I made count, and now I get to start my favorite part of the writing process (and something I'm told most writers actually abhor) the editing.

Reaching the home stretch

I don't know if I've ever felt like this before.  It's kind of a rush, actually.  Also, it's kind of a release of tension.  Not all of it, mind, I still have about 9,000 words left to write before I meet the 50,000 mark.
But I have this thrill that runs through me every time I think about it, because I finally have an ending.  Now all I have to do is connect the ending to what I already have written (just one more chapter, actually, for a total of thirteen, even though one of them is called "epilogue" rather than "chapter thirteen".
I also decided to go simple and obvious for my nom de plume.  I'm going to be myself.  Sort of.  Don't worry, you'll see.
I know I seem to be fixated with my book lately.  That's all I've really written about the last couple of weeks.  But NaNo is almost over.  I owe Sarah a great deal for turning me onto it.  Writing is more than my hobby, more than what I love to do.  It's part of my identity.  So doing NaNo every year is something I need to do- for myself.  Only problem with it is that it can get crazy, trying to churn out a whole novel of 50,000 words in thirty days.
So thanks for putting up with me.  Only one more week to go in this year's NaNo, and then I'll be able to tell you if it was worth it.

38,226 or 11,774?

Minimum goal: 6,000 words
Aim goal: 12,000 words
Ludicrous goal: 20,000 words (which would put me over the top a week ahead of schedule!)

These are my weekend word goals for NaNo.  Actually, the aim goal would, as my word count stands now, put me over the top.  I only have 11,000 and change to go before it's at 50,000.  But my goal isn't to get to 50,000 anymore.  It's to finish the book.  That's what I want more than anything.  To finish this book.
And maybe no one reads it.  And maybe no one likes it if they do read it.  But maybe I wrote it and maybe I finished it, and that means more to me than anything else.
Now, when do I "start" the weekend?  Do I start it now and put everything I write from this moment on into my word count for the weekend goals?  Or do I start it at midnight and make it a Saturday/Sunday kind of thing?
Oh well.  I think I'll forget to remember which words were written when, but it's fun to have goals and make lists, so I'll just be content with that. :)
Off I go.  Taking a break to make some dinner, and then I'll start writing again.  Gotta stay ahead of myself!

There's a scary thought

It's a pretty painful and controversial topic.  One many people would rather not think about.  But it's important to me.  And I feel the need to discourse.  So here goes:
I met a woman this weekend who has been through a terrible time in her life.  She was hospitalized for a debilitating illness, and then sent to a rehabilitation nursing home to recover.
The facility was neither nursing, nor was it a home.  And there was no rehabilitation going on.  In fact, according to this sweet, appreciative, warm-hearted woman, what she went through was nothing short of terrifying. 
She was kept in the dark, unable to open her own curtains to let in light.  Though given a call button for emergencies or bathroom assistance, she was told not to use it and ignored if she did.  Provided with a phone, she was not allowed to call her family- ever, but especially at night.  After being promised twenty-four hour visitation from family and friends, her visitors were summarily booted out of her room after ten-thirty at night.
Now, we've all heard the stories of nursing home abuse.  We've seen the commercials for lawyers promising retribution and remuneration for loved ones who suffered in nursing homes from neglect or abuse.  Some of us may even know or even love someone who went through it.
But still, Medicare sends patients to these places who have had reported problems, documented problems, in the past, many times without the patients' opinions, desires, or input being sought or considered.
And then they have the gall to say that patients have freedom of choice in their own care.
It touches on a nerve, really, to hear people tell me all that's wrong with the health care system without ever mentioning care for seniors.  Aren't they people too?  Aren't they even more people, since they've lived longer than the rest of us?  So where are their choices?

Resources:
Signs of NHA
Elder Abuse
NCEA- Official

Whose life should I be living?

You know I heard somewhere that we don't like some people because we see the worst of ourselves in them.
What I want to know is, what if we love someone, but we hate being around them because they make us feel small and petty and selfish?  Does that have anything to do with seeing something in them that is reflected in ourselves?  Or is it more a matter of seeing in them what we wish was reflected in ourselves?
I started out this day super excited because I had not only caught up to my word count for NaNo, I had surpassed it (in case anyone is interested, I passed the 30,000 word mark about ten minutes ago).  Then I caught a glimpse of another friend's blog, and the whole of my excitement drained from me, leaving me feeling insignificant and stupid for being so excited about something...silly.
How is it that our friends can make us feel so horrible about ourselves just by being enthusiastic about their own lives?
My book has no lasting significance to anyone but me.  I know that.  I know that it's not important in the grand scheme of things, and I've always been okay with that.
Except now I keep wondering if I should be out in the world doing something with more eternal significance: feeding the homeless or teaching Sunday school, maybe.
But then I tell myself that different people find God's will for them in different places.  Because we're not all the same.  Why should I feel guilty because I'm not going overseas on a mission trip?  Why should I feel like less than someone else because I like to stay at home and keep to myself?
You know what?  Yes, I could be a "better" Christian.  I could sell all I own and move to Indonesia and spend all my time and effort converting locals to Christianity or building orphanages.  But I don't think I'd be effective.  I know God has a plan for my life.  And right now, even if that's not my purpose at the moment, if it is someday, God will prepare me for it.
As it is, I'd rather be happy with who and what I am right here and now than feeling guilty about not living out someone else's purpose.
Besides, I'm taking a friend with me to church on Sunday.  I'm praying that he'll keep going with me until God gets ahold of his heart and he starts coming by himself.
*sigh*
I think I'm ready to be excited again. :)

Unlooked For

The cover inspiration for my book:

Katya will get it.
I have found my stride.  And an actual title for my book.  I wrote 1,667 words in half an hour thanks to this genius website idea by a fellow wrimo: ilys
What amuses me is that I've also found a website that generates names for everything.  I was thinking of using it to generate a nom de plume for myself.  I admit, a little while ago, I was doing a Lord Voldemort and rearranging the letters of my own name to try to come up with something.

Quest-y goodness and counting words

Because I'm in a Quest-y mood.  I just saw Sonny's colorings for the upcoming (January 2014, people!) first "official" issue of FinalQuest, and they are AWESOME.  Unfortunately, I've now seen a page of the upcoming issue and it's going to drive me absolutely bats until it comes out.  Plus side, we get to see more of my favorite she-elf, Clearbrook.  And I think I saw Dart in there somewhere (LOVE.  HIM.).

Ugh.

I really am going to drive myself bats.  Well, it's nice to know that this obsession hasn't lost any of its potency for disuse!  I mean, the last new story something that ElfQuest came out with was The Discovery in '07.  I used my lunch hour to go pick it up from Borders that day and almost came back late.  Thank goodness traffic was light that day!

My word count is up again.  Not quite where it needs to be, but I finished editing chapters one through seven and have now begun the all-elusive chapter eight.  It's a little awkward, but I'm writing now for word count.  I can fix the flow of it after I hit that 50,000 mark.  Until then, I'm doing well.  I should be on target by the time I go to bed tonight.  I'm going to finish this novel, even if it takes me beyond November this year.  I can get 50,000 words.  My goal is to actually finish the story.  Every story deserves to be finished.
But since I'm tired, I'm going to sleep now.




When things don't make sense- or do they?

Have you ever been mad at someone for something that happened in a dream?  I know there are people who have a dream about someone being in trouble, and they wake up and they’re still scared something will happen to that person.  But have you ever been mad at someone for something they said or did in a dream- never mind that they have never (and most likely would never)- actually say or do what you’re mad at them for?

I am.  I’m mad at someone for something they did in a dream I had last night.  I had a plethora of dreams throughout the, uh, twenty-one hours I slept, but that one stayed on my mind through all of them after I had it.  And so I woke up mad at this friend, and I still haven’t been able to shake it.  Do you know what that’s like?  It’s a weird thing to experience,

I spent hours at the dealership yesterday getting my car fixed.  Parts of it, anyway.  It made me intensely grateful for my mother.  It’s actually hard to articulate, the way I feel about my mom.  For most of my life (thus far), she was the only parent I had.  She worked hard to support us, but she was always there to be a mom, too.  She made us her priority, no matter what happened.  And now I’m all grown, and she’s still doing her mom thing.  I found out I was going to need to pay for a lot more than I expected, since parts of my car were breaking down just before winter.  So I called my mom and told her what was what, because I was hoping she would let me alter my payment plan on my car so that I could pay for these parts first (which means saving money over the next couple of months).

Instead, Mom wires me enough money for the repairs and just adds it to my loan total, meaning I just keep paying her for longer than originally planned and everything’s hunky dory.  So, my mother is the reason I have a car that’s a-okay.

My mom’s also the reason I’ve been motivated to keep losing weight.  She’s the reason I do half of the good things I do.

And by the way, I’ve never been mad at my mom for something she did in a dream I had. J

Here's another question: have you ever had a thought, sudden and unexpected and seemingly random that turns out to be something from God?

Like inviting an ex to church when he's already given you his opinion of your beliefs.  Of course, I became utterly convinced when he actually said yes.