Thoughts:
The short is strange. He likes to wear things backwards and proclaim "I DON'T CARE" when I point them out. This pic does not illustrate that, but I love him for his spirit anyway.
Anywho, I've been a bad bad blogger. I can't be disappointing the three people who check this blog like that. Who do I think I am? What right do I have to waste precious seconds of other peoples' lives when they go to the trouble to find this blog and then realize it's not been updated in a month? For shame!
So I'm reading and I'm writing, thinking about this story that's been lurking around in my head for the last couple years and I'm actually making progress on it, even if it's just typing stuff into my computer and saving it there. I call it editing. I don't know if I have anything original going on in my head, if I'm writing anything original, or if it's worthy of the mere megabytes it takes up on my hard drive or the hours and hours I've spent on it, but maybe someday I'll show it to someone. I'm sick enough to have To Kill A Mockingbird aspirations here, but I'm sure I'll fall short. But I know one thing is for certain: it will be better written that Twilight. I'm not saying the story will be better, but thanks to Stephenie Meyer, I am hyper aware of overwriting my story and relying too heavily on adverbs and adjectives to describe everything down to the texture of his eyelashes. Sorry kids, I'm going to leave some things up to imagination.
Did anyone else think the movie was pretty much exactly what the book described?
Oh shit, did I just mention that I've seen the movie? Only the first one. I'd like to see the others just out of curiosity, but I don't care enough to go to the trouble. And yes, I read the books. And I was crazy about them for about 20 minutes until I started seeing the gear come out. I'm sorry, I'm not a groupie. Not a Twihard. Not a Twilight mom. I say hell no. I say fuck that. I relinquish any giddy interest I have in spending another dime on this collection of poorly written nonsense and no longer acknowledge what a fun ride her stories are/were. (And besides, the quality of the story slips dramatically lower in each novel. First = Fun. Last = Dragged ass. Boring as hell. TL; DNR.)
And I'm swearing today. At least in that paragraph. You can do that when you know no one's reading. I'm all about that today.
I bet you're wondering about my birth mom.
In a word? Awesome. I dig her. We look a lot alike. I have three talllll brothers, all handsome and dark haired. And we've hung out quite a bit. She's so cool air conditioning turns off when she walks into a house. She's down to earth, easy going, friendly, sweet, and has a beautiful smile. I do not have her smile. We have the same laugh lines and the same body build (trim), and the same flaws: short, sausage fingers, fat knees, saddle bags, flat chest. It's pretty amusing that after 20+ (lots of plus) years of living that I can say I look like someone and mean it because we actually share the same genes.
Maybe I'll be nice and post a pic when I get off my lazy can to ask permission. Gotta keep the three of you happy. ;)
