A Word Here...

So.

I've already admitted to falling off my exercise horse.  Since I was off, I decided to have an experiment, and allowed myself to become "the old Jason" again for a week or so.  I read ten novels.  I watched TV.  I ate whatever I wanted.  I didn't go out, didn't put a lot of effort into my appearance, and didn't work out. I played video games.  I slacked at work.  In short, I became the man I used to be when I was married.

No wonder I'm divorced.  What an asshat I was.  Being that asshole isn't fun at all.

So.  It would appear, having now been proven via the scientific method, that the old me was a cocksucker. I'm putting him down for his dirt nap now, finally, and for good.  I thought I already had, but old habits are hard to break, when you don't notice them creeping up on you.  I think I'm going to enjoy turning about and stick the fuckers in the dangly bits with a shiv.

I've been working out again for two days.  I feel amazingly different in general.  Not in that post-workout endorphin way, but rather in general througout the day.  I've already lost two of the eight pounds I put on last week.  And, to make me really smile, I fit comfortably (almost loosely!) into a pair of Abercrombie jeans in size 34.  They were on sale, and although they're not as flattering (or comfortable) as my Big Star's, they're pretty damn good for $20 jeans.  So, once I get my waist under control, I'll be dead-sexy.  LOL.

Oh.  And there's a slim chance I might be picking up a powerboat, for a song.  We'll see how that goes.

I'm resisting commenting on the ongoing crisis in the SF blogosphere (if you must know, it's here) because I don't particularly care, and also because I'm pretty sure my natural desire to go against the prevailing winds would entice me to ask to read the story and see if the so-called rebuttal is, in fact, a rebuttal.  Because if the man was, as he claims, speaking about characters, and not actual real people he's never met, then everyone needs to back the f**k off.

However... the reaction is forcing me to have strong desires to comment, not on the original asshattery (if, indeed, that's what it was) but on the posters.  The average Internet denizen is generally pretty open-minded and powerfully diversity-conscious, excepting of course the idiots who use the Internets to spout their own version of the truth.

Like me.

For instance, I'm forced to wonder why people just can't let it go.  Yes, perhaps the man is an asshat.  See!? That's my politically-incorrect reaction to his politically-incorrectness.  He's entitled to his bigoted, irrational opinion just like the rest of us.  For myself, I'm just about sick of people crucifying people because they don't agree with them.  So he hates Muslims, or people with red hair, or whatever.  Unless he's going around shooting them, let the bastard talk.

You people screaming for blood?  Piss off.  I have just as many prejudices as he does, and so do you.  We all do, and we all will.  As long as we're different, people will have prejudices.  And since we're not ever going to be identical, it's not going away.  Do you want it to stop being an issue?  STOP MAKING IT ONE.

Well, the Fourth weekend blew me off the wagon for exercise, so tonight I've got to get back on the damn thing.  I've gotten a bit soggier-'bout-the-midsection this week.  It hasn't helped that I've been eating whatever the hell I want all week.  I'd love to start a diet, but I like food too much. 

*sigh* 

I hate waiting on other people.  Hatez it. 

 Oh, I have missed it.  Second season started tonight, and rawked!

*note new freshly stolen, without attribution, userpics. Yes, I taked them. No, I don't care from who.  Its a hundred pixels. Grow up.*

Your result for The Attachment Style Test...

The Player

25% Anxiety Over Abandonment and 49% Avoidance Of Intimacy

Take The Attachment Style Test at HelloQuizzy

 What retard, in his infinite wisdom, decided that the 2007 edition of Microsoft Word, as a DEFAULT, should have the after-paragraph spacing set to 10pt, in contravention of nearly every accepted rule of manuscript format in nearly every print function in the western world!?

I was grading papers, and wondering why everyone was setting extra line spacing after their paragraphs. And I've typed "no extra spaces after paragraphs" at least a hundred times.  And then I start to wonder... "they can't all have been shown this somewhere, but surely Bill Gates and Co. didn't set it up this way."  So get up, go to the computer that's running 07 Word, and check.

Spacing After = 10pt.

O.O

Once again, the clusterf**k that is the 2007 edition of Office strikes again... this time, with added asshattery.

If you're a guy (or a gal, I suppose) and you're not reading Esquire, this is a good month to start.  The people at the bar were looking at me strangely when I would suddenly erupt in seemingly-unprovoked laughter.

:D

I am between projects.

Now, I don't mean I'm between projects in the same sense that one is "between jobs" when one is unemployed, but rather that I've just finished "The Project From Hell" and I'm waiting to begin The Seekrit Projekt.  I realize that many of you, who don't have a steadily-paying writing gig, are wishing me death and other sundry illnesses, but I will confess that both the previously-named projects are work-for-hire, and I'm kind of itching for the chance to do some original, may-never-earn-a-penny work.

So at the moment I'm contemplating whether or not I can honestly believe I can do 3,000-5,000 words a day and two projects at once.  Because, when I'm working I like to work in large chunks.  The Seekrit Projekt will almost certainly require at least 2,500 words per day to meet the deadline.  And, since I get kind of disgusted with myself if I try to post "Yay, 126 more words on [project]" I have to be able to put up at least a grand a day.

Which is a hell of a lot of writing.  For you non-writers, who still think in pages, that 3,000-5,000 words translates to 12-20 pages per day.  And while I have done that much in a day, and even that much in a series of days, I've not done that much per-day straight for oh, 30-50 days.  It's a little daunting.

On the plus side, I'm not doing the heavy heavy plot lifting for The Seekrit Projekt, so that's easy words.  So, if I could get a decent outline together, I could do both.  And, since I have pretty much no social life, or the realistic possibility of one (more on that later), I kinda have some time on my hands.

Hmph.  I hate being between projects.  So much indecision.

I have survived the massive family 4th of July party.

And I hurt.

It was nice enough, the weather finally cooperating in the end but first dumping enough water over everything to make a nice wet, slick morass of every outdoor activity.  Not that it stopped us, mind you.

My activities across the weekend included 5 or 6 games of Frisbee golf, a softball game, about 200 golf balls driven, and 3 9-hole rounds of golf.

Did I mention I hurt? 

Why doesn't Wordpress have something like the LJ friends page?  I'd switch over in a heartbeat if I could make that work, but I don't want to have to manually click through sixty-odd journals to see what I want.

Yes. I'm lazy about the intarwebs.  Sue me.

I will finish this goddammed story today. If it kills me.  Which it may...

In other news, the munchkin and I saw Wall-E today... quite a cute movie.  I think it's safe to say it's another Pixar hit. 
 
eta: story-from-hell complete!  19,450 words... and it's only taken me oh, two freaking months.

Okay... deep breaths.  A night to clear my head, get feeling better, than fresh start in the morning with diet, exercise, and some writing I actually want to do.

This is horseshit. Complete and utter horseshit.

Bastards like this guy should have their peckers stretched around their necks and then hung with it.

How does one otherthrow the Supreme Court?  Buncha whiners, they are.

3,500 more words today. Another burst during the doldrums of the day job. That puts me within one scene of 75%, with only 5kish to go to finish. I really really REALLY RILLY want to finish this godforsaken project and be done with it. 

So... first comes cardio on elliptical*, dinner for wee munchkin, and then back to grind.  I've got a couple-three projects I'd like to be working on, so I'd kind of like to get back to writing something I want to be writing, rather than something I just want to be done with.

• *note to skeptics: one-hour-per day of high-intensity cardio (test period elapsed=10 days) does reduce visible body fat. Not targeting on just gut or anything, although working muscles (arms, back, legs, shoulders) do show visible definition and general trunk fat (read: da gut) is reducing. Would probably have more effect if I was more strict with diet, but am unwilling to give up sweets and carbs entirely. I must have 3 cookies per day. I must have hot chocolate for breakfast.  So is not as fast as would like in get-skinny-quick department.

I have caught up on my grading for my two summer sessions. I have not eaten bowls of Nora's sugar-coated cereal (although I can hear it calling my name).  I have done little else this morning, and since grading complete's my job requirements for the Sabbath, I think I'll spend the day at the bookstore, sipping hot chocolate and keeping an eye out for a future ex, LOL.

 

1. I have added a whole (not partial, but whole!) 250 words to The-Project-From-Hell.  Ick.

2. I've begun watching the first season of Deadwood on dvd.  I have completed the first two episodes, and I imagine four more are on their way here via Netflix as I type.  So far it's very intriguing.  A lot of people told me it'd take me a while to get through the cursing, but honestly, I swear about that much by myself around the house (or when I'm drinking) so it doesn't bother me.  Yes, I have a foul mouth. I also have a large vocabulary and can manage a few accents.  It's often quite funny.

I've been very impressed lately with Timothy Olyphant (of Hitman, Live Free or Die Hard fame) and (two episodes in) the intensity he is bringing to his character is downright amazing.  Plus I wish I could get that much voice without moving my jaw, LOL.  Ian McShane, who I'd noted was in the recently-enjoyed Kung Fu Panda, is downright scary.  I mean, if I could half as much menace into my own characters (or a quarter as much into my own voice) I'd be sitting large.  It's just damn fun listening to him speak in Deadwood.

3. I have cleaned Nora's room (and most of the rest of the apartment) this morning.  She is now back down to clothes that fit (2 bags for Goodwill) and one steamer-trunk of toys (3 bags for Goodwill) and her room does, in fact, still have carpet.

4. I think I'm on a plateau in my exercise.  Which pisses me off, because plateaus and I suck.  Pretty much the only visible fat left on me is wrapped quite nicely around my midsection, and while the elliptical is doing wonders for arms, legs, shoulders, and back, there's nothing for belly-burning except, well... cardio.  And diet.  And I hate diet.  But I also want to be narrow-waisted again, so I'm unhappy.  And not eating pizza or pasta (where I have known portion-control issues).

I've got five hours of work this afternoon that I expect to be dull as sin.  So I'm going to try and write a lot, and get TPFM a ways further down.  We'll see how it goes.

Almost 4,000 words today on The-Project-From-Hell™ to bring the mother to the 10,000 word mark... which should damn well be the middle, or even a little past it.

This is a good professional development project for me. I've never worked this hard against myself on a project without shelving the bastard before. I want this done and out of my life, and while I suspect it's utter crap, I think it will do.  Or, at least, will be enough impetus to get someone else to do it for me.  Which, you know.. works.

Because I want this project out of my life.  For-evar!

I really do feel like my LJ-icon (swiped from Karen Traviss without her permission, may I boil in the hell for people who steal inconsequential things) today.  Really, really I do.

And now, to celebrate, I think I'm going to go kill myself on the elliptical machine.  Because not only do I want this f*****g project out of my life, I want to be skinny-about-the-midsection.

Doldrums–noun (used with a plural verb)

1.	a state of inactivity or stagnation, as in business or art: August is a time of doldrums for many enterprises.

2.	the doldrums, a. a belt of calms and light baffling winds north of the equator between the northern and southern trade winds in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. b. the weather prevailing in this area.

3.	a dull, listless, depressed mood; low spirits.

I am currently trapped in the doldrums... In pretty much every way that I can imagine. I'm plodding through my current writing project, with very little interest in it but struggling on through sheer discipline.  I'm not real thrilled with the day job, or either of the night jobs.  My finances are pretty much shit, and although I'm being pretty good about diet and exercise (oh, the pain!) I'm in that stage where you're just on the cusp of visible progress, when it hurts the most and you think "Golly, that one double-cheese pepperoni extra-sauce pizza won't hurt..."

I need a recharge, and I'm drawing a blank.  Nothing caught my attention at the bookstore this afternoon.  I've got a small pile of editing stuff to do I just can't summon the energy to perfect other people's income streams while I'm on the dole, so to speak.  I don't have the ready-cash for a decent date, so despite the shiny new haircut and the exercise and (new for me) confidence, that's a bust for the weekend.  I've got a movie or two planned this weekend, but other than that it really needs to be a writing-and-crunches kind of weekend.

Honestly, by tomorrow things should be looking up. It supposed to be fairly exciting weekend, especially if I can get the writing-and-cruches out early (and since I seem incapable of sleeping past 6:30am, that seems doable) I've got a leisure Saturday afternoon at work, then a nice Taste of food festival that evening.  I declare Sunday to the be The Day of Recharge (tm)

I know. I'll go invoice.  That'll make me feel better.

Isn't doldrums just one of those apt words?  It both looks and sounds (phonetically) kind of meh.  Kind of like the absolute visceral satisfactory rage the eptithet cocksucker gives (it's all the heavy k's) or the near-perfect level of derision to be found in naming someone a twat (after all, what says "I couldn't care less about you if I tried" more than a nice one-syllable noun?).  Yes, I am a word nerd.  The satisfaction I get from the emotional value of certain English words is perverse.

and these are not common freaking sense, go back to whatever you were doing before you pretended to be a writer.  I mean, come on.  We learn to follow directions in kindergarten.

I've been reading mysteries.

Specifically, Robert B. Parker's Jesse Stone novels.  I've read four of them in the last three days, and I'll read two more today or tomorrow.  The library is missing one, so I'll have to go looking for that.  Anyway... I'm getting two things out of these books.

One, Parker has an interesting style--very heavy dialogue, very little description, especially of character (one dump when met, then (excepting the women) little if anything after) although he is very heavy into place (Paradise, Mass. and Boston) and protagonist introspection.  I noticed this morning when I was writing that I was absorbing a bit more of his style than I should be--the current project is suddenly very dialogue-heavy.  I like the way Parker structures these books--very short chapters, very focused.  It keeps the pace, despite often tedious subject matter, very fast, and he leavens his main plot with poignant subplots so the reader never gets bored with one.

Two, psychotic as it sounds, being in Jesse Stone's head while he's dealing with his ex-wife (a large secondary plot) is really messing with my head concerning my own failed marriage.  There's a lot going on in between my ears right now, and every once in a while some of it feels really good and some of it feels really bad.  A large part of several of the novels has been Jesse in therapy, dealing with his drinking and his ex-wife.  I've felt a lot of times like I'm there with him on the couch, feeling the same things.  It's often uncomfortable.  I've had to stop several times.  But I keep picking the book back up.

This is not going to turn into a post about my sob story.  I bring this up as an example, because there aren't too many books I react to at such an emotional level anymore.  Parker is doing some very good things, and while I'm sure his readers who aren't unhappily divorced may not get such a kick out of that part of the books, I do.  And he's impressed me with his ability to make me feel while I'm reading.  Which is why I keep reading, although I really hope to sleep tonight.  Last night was not a restful night.  But regardless, these books have impressed me.  I've seen the Tom Selleck TV-movies, and they were entertaining, but the novels are really resonating with me.

That doesn't happen to me much, any more.  I'm kind of glad to find out it still can, even if the resonations aren't always particularly pleasant.