BEDA, Day 14: "Sweet Jesus I love me some honky-tonk."

Every August, my Pepe* has a party.

It's a birthday party that "he" (read "my family") puts on. He put it on the first year for his 69th birthday, I do believe. The next year, he decided not to, because turning 70 was just weird for him. From then to now, we've held the party for him.

That's where I am today.

He hires a band to play, and everyone brings food, and we have a party on the lawn.
I always have fun.

May I just say that the average median age for the partygoers at this party is about my mom's age, probably even older. There are practically NO younger people at the party.

Almost every year, I end up doing the chicken dance with Pepe's elderly neighbors and my moms. I laugh. A LOT.

My Pepe likes country music. I do not. I tolerate it, because I know it makes him happy. I just can't stand the "Mah wife left me/ She took mah dawg/ Now I ain't got no money/ So why not go to a hoedown / Sweet Jesus I love me some honky-tonk."
That is my personal hell. Not kidding. Okay, maybe my personal hell would be all my family and friends dead, and myself being experimented on by a group of mad scientests, but there would certainly be country music in the background.

So we have this party, where my family and I are working the entire time, the live band is playing the chicken dance and country music, and almost all the guests are twice my age or older.

Somehow, this is splendidly fun.

Last year, there was karaoke. Let me tell you, reader-folk, I don't sing. Correction. I love to sing, I do it often, but I do not sing WELL. I can sing in an alto range (or lower; I prefer to sing the guy's part in most duets), but going up to a soprano or anything above that is just...bad.

Somehow, I ended up singing We Are Family, Holiday and Matirial Girl. All those songs are in the higher range. It was a blast.

Also, EVERY YEAR, Pepe invites all these people who I have no clue who they are. Because he thinks that my sister and I walk on water, we are introduced to them. Every year. Even if we met them last year. And the year before that. And the year before that.

Also, I have a great-aunt who is hyper-critical of everyone. Last year, (no lie) she looked at my sister and said "...Skinny legs." I know that I will either be too skinny, or not skinny enough. Oh yes.

One year, another aunt asked me if I had "become a woman yet". Right there, during the party. Took all I had not to crack up laughing.

So, my lovelies, that is why I am writing this blog a day early. So I can fully enjoy the hilarity that is my Pepe's party.

I'm probably off dancing, or eating, or singing karaoke.

~Whimsy

* Pepe means Grandpa. ^_^

BEDA, Day 13: Plotting.

As you (I have no doubt) know, I am currently at work plotting for my NaNoWriMo novel this November.

I have been plotting my buns off (not that that can ACTUALLY happen), and I came up with something that I like.

So, I was thinking that I would write a story, in a fantasy setting, about gray morals. You know when you're reading a fantasy story and there are two distinct sides? The Good Side and The Bad Side?
Well, I'm trying to create a story where there IS no good and bad sides, and both of the sides have made mistakes, and each of them think that they are The Good Side.

So that's the premise.

The Actual Story takes place AFTER the "good" guys, vanquish the "bad" guys, the place where most fantasy stories end

One daughter from each side of the old conflict meet and start working together.

My plan was for them to take down the corrupt government and free the people, blah blah blah.

The problem is, well...

I have hit a brick wall of the evil WRITER'S BLOCK. Dun dun dunnnnnnn.

I wrote a nicely angst-ridden backstory for the parents of said children, but alas the daughters are giving me issues.

Now, I am wondering if I should just scrap the tales of the daughters and go with the parents instead.

I really like the backstory, but I don't know if I can handle immersing myself in that story for a month.

The reason why is this: To get to the point that I needed for the daughters, I had to create a lot of angst. They needed to really hate the other side with a passion, so most of the characters needed to die.

Also, I would have a very hard time not sympathizing with the "bad" side, because I find them far more interesting and I think I really kinda love them. So sad that I had to kill them.

I haven't been able to move beyond the place where I'm stuck for days. Ahhhhrgh.

So that's my story.

My QE is thus:

What are you writing?

and

How do you un-block your writer's block?

BEDA, Day 12: Shy-On-The-Inside

So, readers, I want to have a talk with you.

I want to talk about being shy.

I'm shy.

It's not that I don't like people, I do, a lot. It's just that being in social situations makes me nerved up. Before I go to a place, even a friend's house, I get nervous and anxious. Even if I'm comfortable around the people that I'm hanging around with. Even if I've known them for my entire life. It can kinda be a problem sometimes.

It's not that I don't want to be the center of attention. I'm a naturally dramatic theatre geek. I thrive onstage, preferably in parts where I can be as insane as humanly possible. Or where I can yell in Shakespere's language.

It's not even that I lack self-confidence. I'm pretty damn self-confident, actually. I feel no fear in voicing unpopular opinions, wearing strange clothing, and generally being my quirky self.

It's not even that you can tell that I'm feeling awkward. I've done such a good job covering my nerves, that people who know me peripherally don't even give the fact that I might be shy a thought.

Hell, I'm even shy ONLINE. I (over)think before I sent private messages to friends, or join a new forum, or write a "hey, it's me" post. (You are lucky that I'm my least-shy on here.)

No, dear readers. (Good god, I need a better name for you all. This is getting absurd, now.)

I am, quite simply, shy-on-the-inside. It takes a lot of effort for me to insert myself into a conversation. I can take quite a bit for me to make new friends, although I try hard.

In addition to this, I have ADD, and keeping focus on ANYTHING for more than three seconds at a time can be very hard.

I really like people, and I like spending time with them. It can just be hard for me not to feel awkward.

So, my QE for you today is this:

Are you introverted of extroverted?

Also, are you shy-on-the-outside, shy-on-the-inside, or not-shy-at-all?

I am interested to know.

Shyly,
Whimsy

BEDA, Day 11: Androgynous

I love this song. It makes me happy on so many levels.

Watch it now, and then continue with reading this blog, okay?

I'll give you time.


There? Are you finished? Well, if you are (which you should be), then you will have seen Joan Jett preform a cover of The Replacements's Androgynous.

I have been (no lie) listening to this on repeat for the past three days.

There is just something so free and sweet about these two people who love each other, loving each other for who they are on the inside, not how they look, or express their gender, or anything else.

I wish the entire world was a bit more like that classroom of kids, who just recognize love, and don't judge.

Too much in life, people spend time judging other people.

We all do it. We all look at someone we haven't known before, and try to fit them into the boxes we already have in our heads. Now, some of you may be saying "That's not me. I don't do that." Well, you know what? It's freakin' HUMAN NATURE to judge people. I hate it just as much as you do, maybe MORE than you do.

If we realize that we can take the time to put aside these judgments that we made beforehand, and we all actually DO take the time, this world would be so much more accepting.

Then we wouldn't be shunning Dick (or anyone else) for wearing a skirt, and Jane wouldn't have to run away from home to be who she is.

There would be no more hate, because we would all be seen as people. Each one as worthy of respect and life as the next.

Just something to think about.

~Whimsy

P.S. I have been known to wear a tie, fedora and tailcoat at times. I have been known to wear a short skirt I made myself with a lacy tanktop at times. And guess what? I'm no different when I wear one than when I wear another.

BEDA, Day 10: The beginning of Q.E.

I am a girl. Dunno if you knew that, but it's true.

Girls in general like to talk about clothes. I don't, really. I don't do accessories. I don't do purses, handbags or all that other stuff.

However, (you knew something was coming, didn't you? You're too smart for your own good, you are) I do wear four pieces of jewlery, and I have a messenger bag (SO feminine, I know) that I carry around with me. The bag is filled with whatever books I'm reading at present, my iPod, whatever crap that has collected in the bottom of my bag, and my wallet filled with my library card, a holographic chocolate frog card with Voldemort on it, my photo ID, the Armored Bearcub drop-card I picked up at Infinitus, but haven't redeemed yet, and my room key from Infinitus. Did I mention that this wallet is made out of duct tape, and has a Hungarian Horntail sticker on the front? Oh, yeah...I'm a nerd. (Nerd pride!)

The four pieces are, in order of my receiving them...

One: A ring that belonged to my Aunt. I received this on her birthday this past year, because she died when I was three. Our family has always kept her memory alive, and one way we do this is to always celebrate her birthday. The ring is gold, with two diamonds flanking an amethyst. I don't wear this ring because it's pretty (which it is, don't get me wrong), but because I remember my aunt, and because, well, it's part of my family history.
If I were wearing it simply for the pretty factor, I would have ditched it LONG ago. The first day with it on, I managed to give myself a pretty epic scratch on my arm. From the ring. I drew blood. How that happened, I do not know.


Two: A Livestrong-type rubber bracelet in rainbow colors, with "ourtruecolors.org" stamped on it. I got this one at True Colors, which long-time readers may recall from my posts about it. (You can read them here, here and here.
This bracelet is special to me because of a few reasons. I haven't taken it off since March 15 of this year, except for when I had to take it off to play a socialite (and VERY STRAIGHT) girl in a play. Even then, I took it off for the show, and put it back on as soon as the show was done. Also, it's the most permanently visible sign I have on my person that I am not straight.


Three: A macrame bracelet in rainbow colors. I made this just before I went to Queer Prom with a couple of friends. I also made one for my one of my friends, but I misjudged how big her wrist was by FAR, and it ended up being a anklet. Oh well. That bracelet resides on the same wrist that the other rainbow bracelet is on. The pair of bracelets have stayed on my wrist even for (homeschool/unschool) prom.


Four: A pendant with "Remus" and a pair of wings on it. Very simple, sometimes even kept inside my shirt so that it can't be seen. I got this at Infinitus 2010. This, too has not come off since I put it on. This is a reminder of my Potter-obsessed-ness. Remus just may be my favorite character from the books.


I don't wear a timepiece, because life is too short, and I don't need a reminder of that ticking away on my wrist, thankyouverymuch.

I'm a pretty much function-over-pretty-things kind of gal, although I have gotten more...creative with my "style" over the past year or so.

So, that's it from me tonight.

I think I shall start a new feature in my blog. I shall call it Q.E.

Q.E. Shall stand for Question Exchange, and it shall go like so:

I will ask a question, and if you want, you can answer it, and ask me a question in return.

Here is the first Q.E.

What is the strangest thing in your wallet/purse/bag?

~Whimsy

P.S. Occasionally, I type my name as "Whimy" and it always makes me laugh.

BEDA Blog nine: BLFONT and writerly badass-ness.

I love libraries. There's just something almost magical about all those books, shelves upon shelves of them.

I can walk between the shelves for hours, just looking at the titles, cover pages...*swoon*

I know, I'm strange.* We knew that already.

Anyhow, so I was at a library today, and I had brought my Big Leather Folder Of NaNoWriMo Things (BLFONT) with me.

The BLFONT** is roughly the size of a very large laptop computer when shut, and twice that size when open. That's not even touching on the stack of (absolutely not) carefully arranged papers INSIDE the BLFONT.

Those papers cover notes about writing projects that are both current and no-quite-so-current. All the papers are thrown together higglety-pigglety***. The plots wind up near fragments of dialogue for tales I have no plans to write, all jumbled in with sketches, rantings, and a good dollop of song lyrics for good measure.

I get to the library and make a beeline for my table. Granted, this table is not mine. I have no claim to it whatsoever. However, given the choice, I will go for this table compleatly out of force of habit. That, and the chair I like is positioned so that I can see the rest of the library without having to turn too much.

I go over to the table, carrying my BLFONT and my messenger bag and claim the table.

My messenger bag (today at least) is filled with five books on writing, and my iPod.

As I unload all my books, my iPod, my BLFONT, I realize two things:

One: I am taking up a table for FOUR on my own.

Two: I look like a writer.

The first realization made me feel guilty, until I realized that nobody else wanted the table.

The second one made me feel like a badass. An epic writerly badass.

So here's my question for you:

Part one: Do you have a writer-ly case, like my BLFONT, and is it organized?

Part two: What do you do that makes you feel like a badass?

~Whimsy

* See any other blog post previous to this one.
** I pronounce this "Bella-font". Sorta like elephant, only not really at all.
*** A phrase to be used WAY more often than it actually is.

BEDA blog 8: Nothing lasts forever; sparklers.

Nothing lasts forever.

I'll start out by saying that, so you know that this will be an introspective post, not a completely off-the-wall one.

So, three years ago, my maternal grandmother, who I am very close to, was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer.

Stage four cancer, of any type is the worst stage. There are four stages, and one is the best stage (if there is a "good" cancer).

The doctors took out half her lung, and unfortunetly, the margins were not clean. In normal-person-who-does-not-know-cancer speak, this means they didn't get it all.

Obviously, this sucks.

So, the Dr said to us (her family) that we will be lucky to have her around for christmas. (This was in July of 2007.)


Today, I celebrated my grandmother's 69th birthday. She is still here.

I was standing outside, lighting off sparklers with my grandmother and the rest of my (very small) family, and it struck me.

I had better enjoy every moment I have with her, because nothing lasts forever.

It was bittersweet, happily sad, and altogether melodramatic.

(I just ruined the moment for all you readers-of-this-post, didn't I?)

I guess what I'm trying to say is this:

I appreciate every moment I have with my grandmother, even when she's driving me nuts, because I know that one day, she won't be here to drive me crazy.

So, that's the end of my overly sappy post.

~Whimsy