hello hello, remember me?

It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry, guys (and gals) for abandoning my post, but before I begin my blog-worthy rant of why I ran away, I have some... Interesting news to let you all in on.

Concerning Illumine, (well, you'll hear all the details in my rant) it has been on the shelf for the past few weeks. I wouldn't exactly call it cold feet, just empty feeling. I'm not quite sure what you call it in terms of writing issues- Creeping Rot Disease, maybe? It's like, every time I pick it up, I get this feeling that since I stalled so long already, maybe it just wasn't meant to be done. But I know better. It's just Creeping Rot Disease, so I took a much-needed break for a bit, and now, it's time to return.

Second piece of interesting news is that I'm conducting a sort of experiment, if you will. I'm recording some pieces of thoughts and ideas for a possible book that, if I complete, will hopefully shine a curious light on something many girls face. I can't speak much of it, not wanting to ruin the surprise, but if I complete the 50 days of research, I'll have more than enough data to write the book.

So with that aside, I guess I should explain myself, eh?

I wish I could say that I fell into a magical hole somewhere and got lost in the caverns of time and space, exploring new dimensions and places where past, present, and future all tie into one. But tragically, it's more of the fact that things got a little too hot for me to handle, and very expectantly, I flew from the kitchen. Not just flew, but took the next jet to China to avoid it. A lot of it was personal, really. I felt bogged down by tons of things in life; my friends, family, boyfriend, writing, work, any little add on just had me spiraling further into the smallest corner of the black box of misery and woe. For the record, it sucks in there. You feel worthless, incapable of completing anything past breathing, and you spend more time trying to fix everyone's lives but your own, because it's so easy to help anyone else, but you? That's impossible.

Small, insignificant things like weight became a bit of a crazy focus, so I went on several quick crash diets, all of which failed. Then a few friends grew hostile with me, my boyfriend began to worry over rent payments, and my parents are all over the place. Failing to see any consistency in my life, I did a few dramatic moves, and I feel better for it. Better enough to step back up to the plate and say, "Let's finish this."

In the past two weeks or so, I took on Zumba classes with a fierceness, did the treadmill at home, and made the choice to eat right. Bam. Ten pounds gone. A temporary win, but I took it with pride. In the same momentous decision making, I cut out a few friends that chose not to support my decision to write. Bam. I instantly didn't feel like I was faking emotions for someone any more. This kept going from telling the boyfriend that we'd make it by, to not worry, and with that, I smiled. If in a few moves I could make myself feel better, then the same should apply to my writing. It might not happen overnight, but if I take it one step at a time, I shouldn't drown. The feeling that I could accomplish my dreams in just a little time, with a little patience and persistence, made me feel tons, TONS, better. So I started re-evaluating Illumine and it's small flaws, I began to sketch my cover for it, and I took charge. It won't happen overnight, but it'll happen if I keep at it.

two birds, one rocket. cataclysmic destruction.

Today is not a good day. Not a sad day, or a mad day, or even a throw-my-tv-out-the-window day. Just not a good day.

I tried to give today the benefit of the doubt this morning when I woke up by ignoring the various problems that were awaiting me. My earache had manifested into a double ear infection/swimmer's ear, I was days behind on editing, and bunches of little things that I normally wouldn't let bother me were creating a full scale nuclear warhead in my brain. Then I got the most heartbreaking news of all day.

Tim lost his job.

It's depressing to say I felt the ground come out from underneath me, but I did. It's awkward to say I felt no air in my lungs, but I did. And for a moment, I felt myself crack under the surface. We had planned for months now that next year would be the year we'd move in together, a small nest egg preserved for hard times, my first book finished and published with more in the works. The six seconds it took me to read his text telling me of his job loss, and that picture vanished.

Now I'm not saying everything is destroyed. Against all odds, Tim will find another job, I just know it. I will still publish, come hell or high water. And when the time is right, we'll move in together, just not right now. I have to be strong.

Have you ever felt like you couldn't accomplish your goals? Like you were six feet under before you even started? I'd love to hear your triumphs over your struggles, if anything but to show me that I'm not alone and we, Tim and I, can pull through this together.

oh, hello there awesome muse! long time no see.

I know I shouldn't start off a blog sounding very valley-girl by saying 'so', but I'm in too good a mood to care.

So.

SO.

I don't know if many people know this, but I think I've discovered the key to opening your mind and letting your muse run wild and free, like a unicorn in a field of talking flowers where the talking flowers just so happen to give you this awesome advice on writing the next section of your Pretty Word Document. Ready for this?

I cleaned my room. /cue horror music

I know, this is probably one of those, "Oh holy crud, people do that? They actually clean?" The answer is yes, yes we do. See, I'd been starving, metaphorically speaking of course, and hadn't really written anything in about a week. Or at least nothing worthy of a happy smile. More or less it was just me mashing my left cheek against the keys, trying to make some magic happen. That, or I was playing with my ipod, hoping a song would come on and hit me with wonders and inspiration.

(Why can't I look that cool when I put in my ear-buds?)

But after hunting through Bed, Bath, and Beyond for a new clothes rack, you know, so all my clothes can stop living on my floor, I figured why not clean up the place and make it look a little less... hoarder-ish? Plus, I was getting tired of finding my cat sleeping on a t-shirt I was planning on wearing the next day. 

Over the hurdles of trash bags, the random cans of half-consumed soda I found hidden under my bed, and something that I think at one point actually resembled a plate with food but now looked like a fuzzy hairpiece for a balding man, I found out that not only did I have a floor underneath the mass, but it looks pretty freaking sweet when it's vacuumed. I felt like my day was almost complete, until I opened my clothes rack box and found the base centerpiece busted in half and attemptedly re-glued. (Yes, I know attemptedly isn't a word.)

Minor setback aside, everything seems to have worked out well. My Pretty Word Document, let's just call her PWD for now, gained 5k+ words. That's roughly a chapter and a half, but hey, I'll take it. Two days of writing in a row and I haven't stiffened up from fear! I love it. I actually read somewhere on Veronica Roth's blog to just barrel through the fear, jump off the building and into the water below, so to speak. I think I'm gonna take that to heart.