shake rattle and roll

I was awoken most rudely this morning by an earthquake at 5:30am -- it wasn't large enough to knock anything over in the house, but it was an unwelcome reminder that I live in a v. seismically active state, near a fault that is due for a 7.0+ earthquake (the Hayward fault, which has historically ruptured every ~140 years, and whose last major earthquake was 144 years ago). Boo.

However, as soon as the shaking stopped this morning, I went back to sleep, and stayed asleep for another three hours. Then I got up, took care of some stuff, made some eggs for breakfast (yum), and then drove down to Palo Alto to train with Alyssa. I'm pretty sure she's trying to kill me, even if a jury would never convict her. Then I showered, had a salad for lunch, and was remarkably unproductive this afternoon; Alyssa and I are experimenting with my caffeine intake, and today I was supposed to try having no caffeine during the afternoon, which was an epic, epic fail. I had a snack at 2:30 instead, as instructed, and yet I spent the entire afternoon yawning and wandering around in a mental fog. But I finally broke and had coffee at four, which saved me, and I was right as rain the rest of the day.

So when I got some caffeine in me, I worked straight from 4:30 to 11:30, with a break for some Chipotle (and more caffeine). I'm so tantalizingly close to done with the edits -- maybe tomorrow will be the day. But I had to throw in the towel at 11:30 so I could drive back to the evil city, and then I procrastinated for a bit upon my arrival, and now I really should sleep. Tomorrow I have no plans but editing, so hopefully I will finish Malcolm and Amelia so I never have to see them again. Goodnight!

foghorn leghorn

It's a v. foggy night in the city of sin, appropriate for my precipitous flight out of here in the morning. I don't intend to murder any prostitutes before I go, but if I do choose to bust out some Jack the Ripper moves, the fog would serve my purposes quite nicely. I can hear the foghorns from here quite clearly on nights like these, which adds to the ambience in a much more pleasurable way than the earthquakes we had last night and this morning -- granted, the earthquakes were small and only lasted a few seconds, unlike the foghorn which goes on all night, but I doubt that the foghorn is going to destroy the city someday. Unless the foghorn has some artificial intelligence that is only a few years away from sentience, but while I assume that the machines will kill us all within my lifetime, I don't think a foghorn will be the one to lead the machine revolution.

Well, that paragraph was weird. Thanks for sticking with me. I should be in bed; while I don't really have to get up much earlier tomorrow than I usually do, it would be in my best interests to get out of bed when the alarm goes off so that Terry can take me to the airport. Shockingly, I was finished packing eight hours ago, so I'm about as ready for my trip as I can hope to be. I spent the day crossing stuff off my to-do list, which unfortunately didn't include writing; I tried to write, and even took my laptop to La Boulange in an attempt to jolt myself into productivity, but I failed. However, the story is pounding at my head and trying to get out (it would be helpful if I got ebola or some other hemorrhagic fever so that the story could bleed out my ears, but I doubt I'll pick up a hemorrhagic fever in Iowa -- although if anyone could, I could!), so hopefully I'll get some quality writing in on the plane. But I'm satisfied with what I got done today; I'll be coming home to clean sheets on the bed (unless I somehow soil them tonight), plenty of clean laundry, a scrupulously neat room, and a space that I love to write in. Granted, I also love to play games and read wikipedia in that space, but at least the space is conducive to writing and daydreaming as well.

Terry came home around 6:30 and rescued me from the strange mood I'm clearly in, so I had someone to talk to other than the characters in my head. We had a v. girly night; she got a manicure and I got a pedicure (v. necessary, since my feet were becoming exactly the kind of hardened, scaly mess that one would expect of a girl destined to rule the curly-brow kingdom), and then we had dinner at an old school restaurant where we watched a bit of the Giants game. Then we came home and I scared her with my knowledge of megaearthquakes, supervolcanoes, and how we're all going to die (which I think gave her yet another reason why I've got an ulcer, since I know too much about this stuff, but that's all just the tip of the proverbial iceberg of my craziness, so I don't consider it too much of a problem -- which may be a sign that I have a problem). She went to bed shortly thereafter, no doubt to escape my doomsday ravings, and I subsided into sullen mutterings before finishing up the last few things I wanted to do before tomorrow.

And now I shall go to bed; tomorrow I shall be in Iowa! Goodnight!

what goes around comes back around

I'm sick, and it makes me whiny. I would skip work tomorrow to nurse my illness, since I'm a firm proponent of taking sick days and not infecting others, but I have a meeting with the head honchos of my department and I must attend because I'm working towards a pressing deadline. So, perhaps I'll leave work after that, depending on how I'm feeling. I really hope this is swine flu, because if I'm just laid up with a common cold on the summer solstice, I'm going to be pissed.

My goal today was to finish the final final draft of my novel and send it to my agent. My other goal was to leave my apartment; I didn't go out at all yesterday, other than to do laundry and take out my trash, and since none of that required stepping outside, I felt that perhaps I was missing out on the weekend's gorgeous weather. So, I spent a couple of hours at a cafe with Tom (aka Tom Foolery); he contacted me yesterday wanting to talk about some writing stuff, and I realized that I hadn't seen him in a couple of months, which is shameful given that he and Julie live within walking distance of me. It was nice to see him, and it reminded me how much I like having friends even if I'm dangerously close to losing all of them right now due to my extreme focus on my writing. But, despite the reminder, I still turned down Katrina's request to hang out later in the day; I was bound and determined to finish the draft today, and I knew that if I hung out any longer, I would fail. And then that single failure would cascade into a series of self-made disasters that would ultimately lead to me dying, alone and lonely, in a grey cubicle as a seventy-year-old middle manager who once dreamed of being a novelist.

Okay, that was melodramatic even for me. But, after buying groceries and talking to my parents (Happy Father's Day to you fathers out there, particularly my own father!), I successfully buckled down, finishing the draft and sending it to my agent at 9:51pm. I didn't do all the work that I should have done for my day job, but tomorrow morning looks light, so hopefully I'll survive. But to survive, I really need to go to bed now; starting this week, I'm back to writing my second book, and I couldn't be more thrilled, but that will only happen if I get a bit more caught up tomorrow. Goodnight!

you can run if you want but you can't hide

Today was pretty much an exercise in frustration. And the worst thing is that it's myself I'm frustrated at -- all of the tasks on my to-do list were so unpalatable that I procrastinated excessively, which means I had to work until now because I wasn't very effective earlier in the day. And, I have one of those weird gut feelings that indicates everything is about to crash around my ears; hopefully I'm wrong, or, if I'm right, it will be like the last time everything crashed -- the layoffs sucked, but were balanced by the Golden Heart finalist announcement. So maybe I'll get an agent and lose my job tomorrow!

I really don't think that will happen, though. And today wasn't really that bad -- I worked out of the city today, so my commute was good (although my car usually doesn't smell like an old man's body odor, so the bus does have its drawbacks). Also, the weekend is shaping up to be tres fun -- Chris, Connie, Zach, and possibly others are in town for a wedding, and John started working at my place of employment as a summer intern, so I've got a sudden explosion of old friends. I leave for Ann Arbor Monday night, but the weekend promises to be a good time.

Okay, I must go to bed; an eight a.m. tomorrow and seven a.m.'s Thursday and Friday are bound to make me unhappy. Goodnight!

you know that i was hoping that i could leave this star-crossed world behind

I'm home. And, I'm so happy to be back that I actually found myself dancing through my apartment as I listened to music while unearthing my pajamas and miraculously finding a gorgeous Martinelli's apple juice in the fridge. This despite the fact that I am well and truly sick; I spent the flight back from Hawaii inhaling my nasal drip since I didn't have kleenexes, which luckily didn't bother my seat companion because he was too busy snoring the entire time (except for the first part of the flight, when he was not-quite-surreptitiously-enough spitting chew into a water bottle, making me want to throw up).

I can't believe my immune system made it through the entire winter, only to flame out on vacation. I don't want to be sick next week -- I want to get caught up before things get too out of hand, and coming back with a cold wasn't part of the plan. This is particularly the case since my colds inevitably move to my lungs and set up shop there for a couple of months, and I'm in no mood to deal with that. Bleh.

Really, on the surface, it appears that I had a bad vacation, given that I got sick, didn't write a thing, and will likely end up spending several hundred dollars fixing the rental car (the damage was immediately noticeable to them, even if I would have never seen it without the tag I got from the valet). But, on the contrary, I feel that it was exactly what I needed.

For one: Katie and I had a fabulous time. Verily she is a member of the race of Joseph (a term you would only know if you've also read all of the "Anne of Green Gables" books obsessively; it sort of means soulmates). I really hope that we do something like this every year, since she's one of my favorite people ever, even if she is so damn tall that we look silly together.

For another: in my feverish state, I had an important realization (I would call it an epiphany, but I supposedly had an epiphany yesterday, and how many epiphanies can you have in a row?) tonight. Or rather, two important realizations: a) I didn't think of business school once while I was on vacation, other than telling Katie I should probably go -- that seems to be an indication that writing is my real passion; and b) I believe that my writing dreams will come true because I can't see how they could fail. That's a dangerous hint of delusional mania, but hear me out -- I feel like I have some innate talent for this word-shaping business, but what was lacking before was the personal drive and the self-confidence to turn my latent talent into something useful. Somehow, somewhere along the line in the last year, I found that drive, and with it came the confidence that I could keep going with this.

So, to hell with the agent rejections -- I'm going to keep going, with both submitting the first book and writing the second. And, on the flight back to California, I did some more playing around with an idea for a young-adult fantasy series -- I've decided that I'm not going to be content just stealing Julia Quinn's career, but I want to take on J.K. Rowling as well.

This will all likely fall to dust tomorrow morning when the Tylenol Cold is out of my system and I'm left whimpering in bed with a sinus headache and a feeling of despair -- but I'm writing it down so that I can find the feeling again. Tomorrow I need to run errands and take care of things around the apartment so that I can get back into my real life, and then after that it's back to writing with a vengeance. Goodnight!

you're hot then you're cold, you're yes then you're no

I spent significant time in the sun today -- but I don't think it was enough to kill off the virus that I've been harboring for the past few days, and I fear that I will succumb while traveling tomorrow. I had been feeling better, but tonight, my cold/flu/SARS/insert-other-melodramatic-disease-here returned, and I've started sneezing and coughing. Maybe I'm allergic to something, and I suppose that the thought of returning to work is what I'm allergic to...but I doubt that.

I had an epiphany during my fifth hour in the sun this afternoon; whether it was fueled by sunshine, dehydration, or the obnoxiously loud conversation of some awful teenagers near me (I vacated in suppressed outrage shortly after hearing one of them say that he'd gotten his expensive Maui Jim sunglasses from a dude who stole them from the pool kiosk and traded them to him for weed -- which made him feel comfortable saying that he had paid for them, which I found ridiculous), I do not know. But the epiphany was this: as much as I like to joke with Katie about going "off the grid", and as appealing as the idea of moving to Hawaii was during my first few days here, I'm not so sure it would be good for my writing. My hypothesis is that the majority of the people here are a) part of an ancient culture I do not understand, b) social drop-outs who are here to escape 'real' life, or c) vacationers stealing a fantasy out of their normal lives. That's not to say that everyone in Hawaii fits one of those three groups -- but those three groups predominate.

But I don't need the experience of other people's fantasies -- I daydream enough to fuel my writing for a lifetime without needing to observe the daydreams of others. What I need is life experience, the kind of messy, invasive mucking about that comes from things like relationships, chance encounters, the stories one hears from one's friends and coworkers, etc. And it's much easier to do that, at least for me given my initial shyness with strangers, in an area where the players are known and are all grounded in their own real lives.

So I guess I won't be going off the grid anytime soon. Or rather, if I do, it will be somewhere in the continental US -- which is also good, given my apocalyptic fantasies, since I don't want to be anywhere that is critically reliant on regular food deliveries from giant container ships. Maui is a fabulous place to visit, and I certainly hope to come back, but no one's going to lure me into buying a time-share here, despite the gorgeous beaches and perfect scenery.

That's pretty much it; I spent the morning mailing my books back to my apartment (since it was cheaper to mail them than to risk paying for an overweight bag), then checked into tomorrow's flight and was on the beach by 11am. I stayed there until almost five, succeeded in only slightly broiling myself, came back to my room to change, and watched the sunset by the pool while writing in my journal. I spent tonight packing, spreading aloe on my poor burned feet (I swear I slathered on the sunscreen several times today, but my feet apparently defeat all attempts to protect them), and generally getting ready to leave. By this time tomorrow, I'll be back in San Francisco! Goodnight!

it's armageddon week!

I'm currently watching 'Nostradamus: 2012' on the History Channel. This show is attempting to sync up Nostradamus's predictions with the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012, which also syncs with the 'galactic alignment'. It's part of the History Channel's Armageddon Week, which is a totally awesome way to prepare -- it's only three more years until the end of time!!

I haven't watched television since I got back from Iowa, but Sri wanted to watch tv while eating some frozen enchiladas, and I picked this. Before Sri arrived around 8pm, I was v. productive today. I washed five loads of sheets, duvet covers, and winter jackets, and changed my entire bedding scheme. I vacuumed, swiffered, and dusted. I cleared off my desk and windexed the top -- I love my desk, but I may choose to go with something other than a glass top when I replace it someday. And I continued to work on my research database, which I'm quite excited about. I also talked to my parents and to Uncle Mark, so I feel connected with what is going on in my homeland (which is key, since I may have to flee there in 2012 as the seas rise and riots destroy the urbanized coasts).

Sri's staying with me tonight because he has to be at a conference in SF at eight a.m. tomorrow. Katrina wanted to come over to see him, but she should be glad that she decided against it -- we spent most of the evening working on our separate projects, although he does occasionally say 'Wamp' for the hell of it like most of my friends do. We have caught up a bit, though, and hopefully I'll see him again if I can make it to the east coast sometime in the near future.

I have to return to work tomorrow, which I'm thoroughly unenthused about -- but I suppose that means I should go to bed. Goodnight!

there is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune

I got tricked into helping the Round Barn today. Actually, I wasn't precisely tricked -- my dad asked me if I could enter a list of ~150 names and addresses into a database that he could use for an upcoming mailing -- but I remembered as I was typing them that I had made the dire prediction several months ago that I would end up getting roped into helping out with barn activities. And sadly, that was the case tonight. I didn't mind doing it -- I took a typing test online tonight and was regularly at 90-105 words/minute, so I could clearly do it more efficiently than my father could. I could have been such a great secretary (and I have a state typing trophy from high school to prove it), but alas, I have decided to pursue other ventures.

As promised, my mother made Sunday dinner, which consisted of ham, scalloped potatoes, and baked beans. Her baked beans are to die for, and I think this was either the first or second time she made them since I've been home, so that was great. My brother hung around for awhile this afternoon, and informed me that the desk chair I've been surreptitiously borrowing from him is actually broken. I had been sitting in it for two weeks, but I dragged it back into his room before he got home. He *hates* when people borrow things without asking him -- and his rage at such events is so strong that I took the extreme measure of spending a few minutes yesterday smoothing out his carpet with my feet so that he wouldn't notice the track marks of the chair wheels when he got home. But then I asked for permission, and he said it was broken, so I guess I won't be using it again :(

And that, my friends, was it. I'm going to go to Des Moines tomorrow to work -- Uncle Mark, do you want to have lunch on Wednesday or Friday? I'll call you and we can plan.