Because Feminism Totally Rules

Airports....

airport madness—hordes of humans rushing and stumbling around luggage-crammed corridors, announcements blaring arrivals, departures, delays—i sit. i eat a muffin in the midst of chaos, crumbs falling in my lap, on the floor. people passing step on my muffin crumbs, carrying bits of my muffin in the grooves of their shoes across the country. perhaps my muffin bits are becoming transcontinental muffin bits. ringing cell phones destroy one’s perception of isolation in foreign areas. people grasp at reality, wondering, what time zone is this? amplified voices rock people out of oblivion and i rise too, rise for my flight, papers falling out of my purse. tickets collected, i.d.s checked, i am selected, randomly, to be searched. (they search everyone’s secrets.) carry-ons spill bras, lipsticks, toothbrushes, batteries, papers, the essentials of humans. shoes removed, pockets emptied, metal detectors bleeping, this complicates the simplified. if a plane were to simply burn up, crash, explode, dismantle itself—in air or sea or land—with deaths, what can we really care about any of this? simplicity eliminates these actions from mattering.

50,000+!

In honour of National Novel Writing Month, I wrote a book. I don't think it's pure crap, and it's actually the best thing I've written in a while. There's tons of polishing to be done, characters to be developed, but I'm pretty much finished with a first rough draft. I'm so pleased! V, you know you'll be getting a copy of it to help me w/ the editing process. Hopefully we can get this one going in the right direction...

This has been a great experiment. I'm so thankful (Hey, it's Thanksgiving, and I'm supposed to be thinking about these sorts of things!) to have been encouraged by my amazing writer friends, including my Naropian friends, and B. This has been such a productive month. I have re-learned my love for writing, which I forgot. The past month I've neglected many things, including phone calls to my mother, sleep, runs, extra hours at work I should have been putting in...to write. It feels good. It reminds me of when I was working on "Unfamous" at Naropa when I called in sick to work because I was on such a roll and couldn't stop writing.

National Novel Writing Month

So I'm doing National Novel Writing Month, affectionately referred to as NaNoWriMo. The point is to write a novel in a month. I wrote yesterday, and some of it was crap, then I restarted, and while it's not my best work, it's not terrible. I'm actually kind of getting into it. I have a character I call The Old Man.

Doing NaNoWriMo? Friend me!

observations

There are all these generically pretty girls--you know the type. They have the look--stylish (or at least presentably pretty) clothes--even if it's their only thing like it in their wardrobe. They seem pretty enough--they're the kind of girl that asks way too often while peering intensely into the nearest mirror, calling over her shoulder to her boyfriend (because she's never a lesbian, and if she's bi, it was just for that threesome once--which doesn't count), "Do you think I'm pretty?" and he'll answer all exasperated like he always does, "Of course, yes!"

These girls are the apple pie smile of Middle America yet when you look close, you'll notice something's off--with all of them. (They often travel in packs so scrutiny of many at once is quite possible.) One will have overdyed hair that does not match her skin colour, another's nose is too big (and with a slight bump--oh, how she hates looking in the mirror), another has only old hand-me-downs and cheap, unstylish clothes--but they all look very pretty, very "American" pretty--at first glance, but you soon see the truth:

They're merely average.

from a story i wrote a while ago (i love this line!)

I went horseback riding last year and it occurred to me I didn’t need anything from Vin.