Nanowrimo Attempt #3, Day 3 of Thanksgiving/Fall Break

This is the third year I've attempted Nanowrimo. I've never broken 4500 words. It's about a week and a half or so left 'til the end of November, and I only have 1845 words as of this moment. The goal is to have 50,000.

I think I knew by November 3, two days into working on my novel, that there was no way I'd finish before the end of November. What with major projects and quizzes to prepare for, and an essay for nonfiction, another for the same class to revise, and a literary analysis for my French lit class--in French--to write, I knew I'd be hard-pressed to get it done. There wouldn't be a lot of time to work with.

I'm not upset about it; well, maybe a little sad that I would have to wait yet another year until I had a little more time during the month of November to complete it. But that's reality.

I'm hoping to find a little time to work on it this week of break. Drawing stuff (something I've struggled a lot with this semester) will have to come first. I expect that I'll only have the chance to get about 2000 more words written before the end of the month. Whatever I don't finish, I will get done before the start of next semester.

I know people have written about Nanowrimo many times before, so excuse my possibly cliched ramblings for a moment. Writing a novel in 30 days is difficult, let alone writing one at all. There's so much planning and commitment that goes along with it. But I'm glad the challenge is there, because it's much easier to make excuses than to motivate yourself with the daunting challenge of 50,000 words is ahead of you. It's a boost to creativity, and I really appreciate what it does, and can do.

Anyway, I've been home since Saturday. So far I have:

• Watched all but two episodes of American Horror Story right before bedtime, which is a really terrible idea on my part because it scares the bejeebers outta me. I've had really messed up dreams for the last two nights. (I don't do well with horror, period. And yet I subject myself to what people are calling the scariest show on TV.)
• Started on my homework and my laundry. 
• Proceeded to sleep in past 11am every day since Saturday (which is not good, since I really need to keep up with a normal sleep schedule.)
• Talked with Dad about Snape and other various book-to-movie topics while watching DH Part 2.
• Watched the amazing extras on the second disc of Part 2. As soon as finals are over, I think I'm probably going to watch the conversation with J.K. Rowling and Daniel Radcliffe over and over again until I have it memorized. It's so intriguing...
• Went to see Breaking Dawn with my mom, who told me she was glad she didn't fall asleep during the movie. 
• Caught up on New Girl, which is a hilarious show. I can't stop giggling while watching an episode. 
• Watched Casper with my parents. 
• Went about my business, walking around the house with my cat Naomi at my heels. She follows me everywhere, it seems. Not that I'm complaining. I missed her dearly. 

How My Weekend Went*

On Saturday I woke up at 4:45am with an excruciating pain on my right side. At first I thought it would pass (like a brief, random stomach pain), and so I took some Motrin and tried going to the bathroom. Two hours and many attempts to go to the bathroom later, I was still in pain, and it felt like it was spreading.

My first thought (and dreaded fear) was that it was appendicitis. I looked it up on the internet--I can never remember what side the appendix is on--and my fear intensified as I read each symptom. I kept thinking of that episode of Sister, Sister where Tia and Tamera both wake up in the middle of the night with intense pains and thus are carted off to the hospital, where they both have their appendixes removed and fight the temptation to look up their birth parents.

I finally went down to wake Emma up at 6:30, when I was convinced I was going to die if I didn't get looked at. I had to knock twice before she came to the door, bleary-eyed and clearly not completely awake.

"Can you take me the E.R.?" I asked. Pippin, Emma's cat, slipped past her feet and ran into the nearby bathroom. He jumped up on the seat and started drinking out of the toilet. "I have a huge pain in my side and I don't know if it's appendicitis and I'd rather go in and find out for sure rather than wait and possibly have it get worse."

"Where is the pain?" Emma asked as she rubbed her eyes, her brow furrowed.

I told her that it had started somewhere in the back right, and had moved around the side of my torso and was making its way down. "I'm so sorry to wake you, but I am really worried, and in pain, and I'm sorry to ask you to do this, but..."

Emma didn't say anything, and I started to worry that she was going to say no. I stood there for a few minutes, unsure what to say, and then ran back upstairs. I pulled on some semblance of clothes, grabbed my purse and all necessary accoutrements and tried going to the bathroom once more to no avail. When I came out, Emma was waiting in the threshold dividing the kitchen and the dining room, her purse over her shoulder and still bleary-eyed.

"I'll be in the waiting room," Emma told me once we had arrived at the hospital and I was giving them my information. I told the man behind the desk about my situation, and he gave me an armband and directed me to talk to a nurse in a room just off the main entryway.

Finally, I ended up in an examination room. They took the samples they needed for tests. The woman who took a blood sample was really nice. She had beautiful dark hair that had been braided and curled, and she asked me about my New Moon shirt. We talked briefly about the Twilight movies, and I told her that the shirt was my pajama top and that I was deathly afraid of needles and that I was sorry if I reacted immaturely. Another nurse hooked me up to an IV, informing me that the medicine might make me a little nauseous and drowsy, and to be aware. The doctor came in to talk with me; she said my symptoms fit that of a kidney stone. I had a CAT scan, and was brought back to the examination room.

As I waited, I sang "Teenage Dream" under my breath to distract myself from the needle that was in my arm and the strange feeling in response to the medicine.

The doctor came in about ten minutes later to let me know that the tests had confirmed that I had a kidney stone. Needless to say, I was relieved. As long as it wasn't appendicitis I was happy. She gave me a prescription, and I was released shortly after 8:45.

Emma had fallen asleep in a little ball--she's a hobbit--on two waiting room chairs that she had pushed together. I poked her to wake her up and we left to pick up my meds on the way home. I called my parents as I was waiting for the prescription to be filled to let them know what happened. I started the conversation with "Don't freak out, but I was in the E.R."--which will always cause some sort of freak-out, regardless of the reason for which you were in the E.R.

I can't swallow pills. It's a psychological thing and I know it's immature, but I can't help it; if I know the pill is in my mouth I can't force myself to swallow it for fear that I am going to choke. The pills I was told to take could be crushed and put into food. I bought a pill-crusher and it has been a bit of a hassle to crush them up and take them with applesauce, but at least I'm taking them. As of today, I have been able to successfully swallow the pill in two pieces. Crushing it to a powder makes it taste awful; the least amount of powder left over, the more the applesauce remains tasting like applesauce.

I spent the majority of Saturday sleeping. I threw up twice, as it's imperative to take the pills with food, which didn't register then in my medicated mind. I ate soup and crackers on Sunday, hoping that I wouldn't throw up again.

Since Sunday, I've been feeling progressively more like my normal self. Today has been the best, I think; I haven't felt dizzy and though I'm still tired, I feel much better. I passed the kidney stone on Sunday, and have been working through the rest of my medication. I was behind on homework from not being able to do any on Saturday, and stayed up late on Sunday night to try to catch up.

Monday was probably the worst day post-stone. I was tired from the limited amount of sleep the night before, and with the combined side-effect of fatigue from the medication and two work shifts, I felt miserable. I sent a text to my sister.

Me: My meds make me drowsy...
Heidi: That sucks. Is it for your kidney stone? Also can I name your kidney stone?
Me: HAHAHAHAHA Yes. And yes, you may.
Heidi (later): Your kidney stone should be named Iago. Either that or it should be named Bartholomue (sp?)
Me: I like Bartholemew. (sp?)
Heidi: Hee hee. Bartholomew(sp?) it is. :)

This conversation sent me into a fit of giggles for the rest of the day. It isn't the first time we've named our ailments, and I don't think it'll be the last. Oh the cleverness of us.

*I'm sorry if it's borderline TMI; I tried to keep the details as limited as possible.

The Week from You Know Where

I hate moving. I've had to do it at least twice in the last year and a half, and I have been dreading this day for, oh, six months or so.

It's not that I don't like the idea of living elsewhere. The house we're moving into, though I have yet to see the inside of it, provides us with a lot of space--which is awesome. And it has a basement complete with a laundry room, so that means relaxing/no need to get laundry quarters again for awhile. The house is going to be pretty amazing, and I can't wait to settle in.

Saturday is our move-out day, and Monday is our move-in day. Sunday is going to be that weird limbo where I technically will be homeless. Alisha and I plan to stay in a motel so we may be able to have a real night's sleep on real beds.

But honestly? It's the process of getting to that point that is driving me insane. I'm working most of the week. My plan to have been packed by two days ago was thwarted due to a lot of work shifts after my class ended at the beginning of the month. I find myself overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff I still need to do before moving (and before the semester starts back up again). I'm worried about transporting all the stuff I have; over five years I have acquired a small library and many movies, and I'm a pack rat, so that doesn't help. I am not sure about any possible help yet for the actual moving part yet; I have asked Heidi, but she isn't sure about whether she'll be able to help yet, and as my mom is working this weekend, and my dad's shoulder out of commission...It is all too much for me to handle at the moment.

It doesn't help that my roommates and I are all on edge, and letting the stress vent itself in the form of annoyed bitchiness most of the time in conversation. This isn't helping my mind state at all; I have done my share of snapping at everyone, but it is difficult to alter one's attitude when being attacked, seemingly, from most directions. I mean, perhaps a lot of the frustration is in my head (moving stresses me out SO MUCH), and I'm only imagining most of the tension...but there is still something there. The consolation is that by this time next week, it will have disappeared. Until then, however...

Too many things to think about right now.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch:

• Turns out that Kurt's graduation doesn't mean he's leaving Glee. Brad Falchuk cleared it up at ComicCon. Wooohooo! Words cannot express my relief; Glee doesn't seem like Glee if Rachel, Finn, and Kurt--arguably the most prominent cores of the emotional plot--are not there to take part in some way. Especially Kurt, since he is a character so many are invested in, including myself. (Note: This may be acceptable after a few more seasons, but for right now, it's much too soon to see them go for good.) Related: I never thought I'd be this connected to a television show. This is basically the only one I have stuck with since first watching it, and I'm not much of a TV person at all. It blows my mind. The show is incredible.
• The Glee Project, while still annoying me from time to time, is alright. I'm still not fond of the stupid drama bits they tend to insert here and there--I find it incredibly distracting--but I am really intrigued with the casting process. I was sad when Matheus was sent home--it doesn't feel the same without him--I don't like Lindsay's "can't ever go wrong" demeanor, and I really, really want Hannah to win. She seems the most genuine to me, and I would love to see what kind of character she could bring to the show. 
• I have purchased The Invention of Hugo Cabret and intend to read it as soon as we're moved into the new house. More on this later; but rest assured I am STOKED to read it. 
• Prairie and I went to Waldenbooks on Sunday to check out the blowout sale. Regardless of the fact the discounts weren't as good as I had hoped (I saved only $6), it was surreal and very tragic to think that in mere weeks, Borders will have disappeared. So many feelings....
• This is probably going to be the thing that gets me through the next week and a half. I am so excited to see Struck by Lightning. It is sure to be awesome. Did you know that Chris Colfer wrote the script for it?* 
• Reason #1974626475 why Matthew Lewis is awesome**: He and I share the same passion and associated feelings for Beatles music. And we agree on the best Beatles album. Also, microwaved scrambled eggs? No words. 
• My grandparents will soon be celebrating their 60th anniversary. I'm so happy for them. <3

*Chris Colfer is one of my heroes. He is a genius.

**Matthew Lewis is also one of my heroes. Always and forever. We sent him a K-State hat once because he talked about his embarrassing Order of the Phoenix haircut on an early episode of PotterCast, and there was a call for hats (probably as a joke, but we still wanted to help him out).

Transportation of Choice

I don't know the statistics regarding how often it's normal to have recurring dreams, nor if we really have recurring dreams at all--although I'm pretty sure it's not uncommon. But I'm no expert. When I am aware I'm dreaming, though, sometimes I have this feeling that I have had that certain dream before, or at least have seen recurring elements.

Last night's dream felt like one of those dreams. I don't remember exactly what it was about--I  know it changed a lot, but the story lines for my dreams are usually too kooky to have rational explanations. (For the record, I know I was meaning to head somewhere, and knew I had to get there fast.) The thing I do remember, however, is the fact that I was swimming in the air through most of one episode of the dream. The weirdest/coolest thing about it is that I realized (or convinced myself) that I have the habit of swimming in my dreams. Regularly.

In order to swim, I merely kick up into the air, and then start frog-paddling--I don't know the name of it--you know, moving my arms in an arch from out in front of me to the side, and then bringing them around again. I have to kick a lot to get somewhere and make sure I keep moving so I don't fall/float back to the ground when I don't want to. The normal feeling of being in water is there when I'm in the air, though I know that it's air and not water that I'm moving through. I never move any more quickly than I would be able to walk or run, and in my dreams I run very slowly. It's very much like what I think being in zero-gravity would be like, except that I have more control over where I am and what I'm doing.

I feel like I do this all the time in my dreams; or at least on a fairly regular basis. When I need to get somewhere, I choose to swim there rather than anything else.

In real life this could never happen, first reason being there's nothing in the air that would be able to keep me afloat or cause me to float. There's that buoyancy factor that is missing. (Which is annoying, considering that if I could actually swim through air, I would do it all the time. Not really sure why...) The second reason: in real life, I never made it past intermediate in swimming lessons. I was afraid of the deep end, and could never really jump off the diving board, let alone dive. When I do go "swimming"--which is seldom--I just keep myself afloat, doggie paddling or frog paddling to get where I need to be, if I don't just walk over there through the water (is "wade" the verb I'm looking for here?). I wonder if this desire to swim is some result of that.

Then again, I did have a dream the other night in which I ended up in a chapel located on a mountain that also doubled as a YA bookstore. So it could just be my imagination running away with the things I store in my memories. Or I could just be crazy.

Chicken Soup for the Soul

I am a firm believer in Pick-Me-Ups. I don't think I would be able to function without them. They are the kind of things that are both freeing and stable enough for me to keep a hold of as things swing a little off-course. Harry Potter, a good book, anything by Sarah Dessen, Glee, old-school Disney, 80s movies...anything that will distract me from real-life for awhile.

This past weekend was one of those pick-me-ups. Brandi and Traci came to visit, and for two days, I was able to forget the fact I haven't had much sleep, or that I'm behind in Prints, or that emotional stresses are proving to test my motivation. 

Last night, before going to the bars, we hung out at a friend of Traci's house. We sat on the screen porch overlooking their backyard, just talking and drinking, playing Washers and that frisbee-and-bottle-on-a-pole game. Brandi, Traci, and their friend Morgan shared stories from old roommates, strange acquaintances, and past drinking experiences. Brandi and I reminisced about our favorite memories from the Little Apple, and talked about everything that had been going on since the last time we'd seen each other. I can't seem to explain the feeling of peace I felt, sitting there relaxing with friends, and later, dancing the night away with the three of them, without a care in the world, even if only for a few hours. 

Exciting things always happen when Brandi and Traci are here. Perhaps it's because I didn't get out much in high school...but I genuinely love hanging out with them. There are no set plans, we always have a good time, and it's always a little different than the last. Mostly, though, and more importantly, is that they are good people, and it doesn't matter what we do, because they are some of my best friends. Just being is enough to forget about a lousy day, to talk through the things that are getting us down, or to immerse ourselves in the stories we tell. These are the moments I look forward to, and I cherish every one of them. 

These Drowsy Thursdays

Once again, I found myself dosing in class this afternoon. It's not uncommon for this to happen; since high school, I've had trouble during that two hour period right after lunch, when I'm supposed to be the most alert. Usually, it happens after a late night followed by an early morning, but only then.

As the years have gone on, though, the drowsiness has increased as I get less sleep. Not surprising. It's nothing new. I'm used to it. The thing that bugs me, however, is how I can't seem to fight it though I've tried everything except energy drinks to prevent it.

I wonder if I should just try to nap more often. I mean, the fact I have to hit snooze a million times every morning is indicative of just how much sleeping means to me. If only the time allowed it. But there has to be something that can help me fight this problem...Alas.

This is one of those drowsy days. All the excitement from last week's Sigma Tau Delta convention has left me to deal with it on my own.

That was a great trip, though. Worth every minute of rest lost.