Haha, Saturday my coworker, Nathan, was convinced it was my birthday. When I met Amberly and him for work at 4:45 am, he was the only one who appeared perky and cheerful. After Ameberly and I mumbled sleepy good mornings, Nathan piped in with a bright, "Happy Birthday!" Now Nathan's a goofy guy, so I figured he was just being silly and said, "Why thank you, but it's my unbirthday actually." But he bubbled out a couple more birthday-ish things and thrust out card and gift. I was taken very off-guard. Being a very NON-morning person, all I could do was blink stupidly at my name scrawled on top of the card and try to think. Seeing my confusion, he started to look confused, and I had to tell him twice that it wasn't my birthday. "Well...well...when IS your birthday?" "September." He looked a little smushed. And darted off to his car to hide the card and gift again. It kept us in good humor most of the early part of the morning. Apparantly he thought I had said the day before that it was going to be my birthday. I have no idea what I really said, as I said nothing at any point about anybody's birthday, but it was still sweet of him to think of me, and it makes me laugh every time I think about it. It completely saved my otherwise rotten day.

Our manager's been in town only a couple of days and already people are getting rankled again. I feel a little torn because I like my manager a lot as a person; he's a good guy. But job wise, there are definitely some problems. For my part, it's hard not to get a little angry when your superior doesn't always take responsibility and holds you to a standard he doesn't hold himself to. Meh. I hope stuff works out before it hits the fan. Isaac and I are just holding on until we can open the Pelham store.

I just realized that, since I keep this blog public, the sister I don't like could completely access it. I better remember that and keep all the really personal stuff for lj. Sorry to those who aren't friended there! You can always ask and I'll consider adding you.

An Overdue Update

This will be brief, as I'm dead tired from a double shift, but if I don't update a little now, who knows when I'll think to do it next? I'm still a Shift Supervisor at Starbucks, though things at my store are a little shakey right now. I can only hope that the grim mood passes quickly and morale lifts once again. I am now in charge of doing most of the ordering for the store, which would be everything except pastries and paper and I would hate doing those anyway. I love doing the weekly order (as long as I don't have to come in on my day off :P). I got a raise -- woohoo! -- and am finally down to paying off only ONE credit card. This is a huge achievement for me. It finally feels like being debt-free is an actual possibility. And after that...roomie and appartment hunt time! Or a house. A girl at work showed me the prettiest little house that's on the market for $75,000. I could never afford it on my own though, meh.

OH! And my family went to Disney World last week! YAY! It was such a fun trip, the best vacation we've had in ages. My only regret is that I was too tired every night to go clubbing at Pleasure Island. But I had such a good time that the regret is a small one. While I was down there, I had a watch made with a custom sketch of Peter Pand and Wendy done by a Disney artist. It cost a lot, but I ADORE it. I also got to keep the original sketch the face was made from. I plan on having it framed and hung in my room. Eeeeeeee, I love Disney World!

And now exhaustion slows me down to an end. I'm hoping I'll get to actually relax Friday and maybe go dancing. *crosses fingers* Here's to luck and life!

Life...or Nothing Like It

Yes, I know NaNo was ages ago, but it saddened me to think of this little space floating lost in the internet wasteland. So I figured that I'd dredge it up and use it to spout my complaints and opinions on the rest of the world. Not that I don't already do that all the time. *g*

I count myself lucky to have a job that I don't hate. Seven months and I don't feel like quitting yet. That is definitely a new record for me. I love my coffee, I love my co-workers, I like some of the customers. I have a sweet deal. But all I ever do anymore is work and sleep. There's no time in between for really living. And that's a little sad. No, it's downright depressing. The question is, what can I really do about it?

Heather and I are going out shopping and stuff tomorrow. It is so weird to do this with someone I didn't go to school with. But I'm trying not to look at the past so much. Stop waiting for friends to come home and visit and start getting comfy with new friends.

Oooh, and remind me in the future to commentate on how coffee houses attract some weird people.

Day 3 - Thoughts

This is all even harder than I thought. Yesterday I didn't write at all because I worked a double shift and my brain was all too wonked to write. I pretty much just stared at the screen. And today I'm feeling the frustration of knowing where I want to go...I'm just not sure how to get there. AUGH.

But Taeth! Hahaha, I put I character in my story today named Artichoke. XD Totally inspired by your own vegetable character.

I have to open tomorrow. Ugh. Still writing. I am determined not to go to bed before hitting at LEAST 4,000 words. Boy do I need some inspiration.

898/50,000

Chapter One

Often enough books begin with some description of the weather meant to be a clue as to what will happen in the story. Such as, if the first line of a book reads “It was a dark and stormy night,” then the reader can conclude that something equally dark and mysterious is about to happen, like a murder or a kidnapping or an evil spell. And if the first line reads “The day was bright and cheery”, the characters immediately introduced afterwards are usually in equally good spirits with not a care in the world.

This is not a book of that sort. On the day that this story begins, it was cloudy and gray and smelled of rain. However, there were no ghosts lurking about. Death was not lingering ominously on the horizon. The wind did not blow a lone newspaper across a deserted street like a modern tumbleweed. And Walker Jones was not depressed. In fact, he was in a downright good mood.

Walker thumped his hands on the steering wheel in rhythm with the old eighties rock song blasting through the speakers of his beat-up pickup truck. The truck was dented and scratched in countless places. The blue paint was old and faded. Dried splashes of mud decorated the driver’s side. But Walker loved his truck and was determined not to sell it until it fell apart and died. It was worn in and comfortable and he liked it that way.

Walker Jones was rather like his pickup truck, except for the bit about being old. At only twenty years of age his hands were already rough and calloused from hard work. He had a habit of chewing on his nails while he was thinking, leaving them short and torn. A scar ran along the left side of his jaw, the souvenir of an old bicycle crash. Other marks of boyhood scrapes were hidden by the blue-gray coveralls he wore. The coveralls were faded and frayed about the cuffs and collar. His work boots were scuffed, dirty, and so worn in that he could almost ball them up. Ordinary brown hair swept haphazardly across his forehead, his eyes a near match in color. Yes, Walker and his truck made quite the pair.

His tires squealed, kicking up gravel as he turned sharply into the back parking lot of the Hapsburg City Library. He parked and checked his watch as he jumped out of the truck. “Made it with a minute to spare.” Walker looked pleased with himself as he hauled a ladder out of the bed of his truck, pausing only a moment to toss back in a forgotten orange Frisbee that fell out. Hefting the ladder over one shoulder, he maneuvered carefully through the gray double doors and headed straight for the time clock.

“There’s my favorite janitor. Pushing it close today, aren’t we?” A tiny old woman stood in front of the open drawer of a much younger file cabinet, her arms filled with manila folders. She looked fondly up at Walker through a pair of gold rimmed half-moon spectacles, her long white hair pulled away from her face in a soft bun. She was small and round and grandmotherly, and though the pile of folders blocked Walker’s view, he knew from experience that her fuzzy pink sweater probably depicted a picture of one or more cats.

“You know, I think I prefer the term ‘maintenance man’, Agnes.” Walker gave her a good-morning nod, propping his ladder against the wall before edging past her to the time clock. “It just sounds more…manly.” He gave her that famous, slow, easy grin. “Ahh, look at that. Nine o’clock on the dot. And you were worried.”

“Walker Jones, if my arms weren’t full, I might be obligated to pinch you,” Agnes admonished him with a twinkle in her faded blue eyes.

“Don’t be cruel to me, Agnes. Ma had an early morning meeting and asked me last minute to take Bit to school. And as you know, I’m a virtual paragon of sonship.”

Agnes went back to her filing, her ancient fingers slower than they used to be but still acting with the practiced movements of fifty years of library work. “That’s the seventh time this month. Elizabeth is fourteen now, isn’t she? Why can’t she just take the bus?”

“She’s fifteen.” Walker grunted as he hefted the ladder back over his shoulder. “And that’s exactly what I said. Please, share your wisdom with Ma next time you see her.”

“Are you still moving out on your own, dear?”

“In two weeks. I’ve got an apartment on this side of town. One bedroom. It hasn’t got a washer or dryer, but it’s right next to a laundry mat. All that matters is that it smells of sweet freedom.”

Agnes laughed, a little creakily. “A little tired of living at home dear?”

“Eh….” Walker shrugged his free shoulder in a non-committed way. “It’ll just be nice to have some independence, is all.” He reached out and awkwardly patted her shoulder. A foot taller than the tiny lady, he dwarfed her with his five feet and eleven inches. “I’ve got to go. There’s a water pipe leaking on the third floor.”

“Alright, honey. You tell your mother I’ll see her at the Quilting Qlub on Tuesday.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he called back to her before disappearing into the elevator.

Pre-writing Prattle

Eeeee! I'm about to write the first words of The Significance of Wings. I am terrified. I know nothing. I have cramps. But the point is to write something. I can promise that most of this will be crap. Fortunately I am able to laugh at myself. My inner perfectionist has been put in a straight jacket that will hopefully hold out through at least a week. 50,000 words, here I come!

Seven hours till go time...

NaNo draws closer and I still have very little idea of what's going on with my novel. Here's to fun and surprises!

Now I think I should go ahead and explain one of my other main characters just a bit before my friends see it and start screaming "Mary Sue!" Yes, it's true, there will be a character in this story named Lusa. And let me explain to you how she got the name. Not too long after "Lusa" became my popular nickname, I thought that maybe it would be fun to use it as part of a pen name one day if I wrote books. Then when I got an idea for a book series, I had the idea of making the pen name an actual character in the books, then a minor character. She would be a scribe and be the one telling all the stories. This book is largely her story. It wasn't meant to come till later, but it's the freshest in my mind. I'll simply have to explain some of her history through flashbacks or friends. But no, this Lusa is not me trying to put myself in a book, lol.

Alliad and Walker Jones

Behold the tentative name for my new world! I say tentative because I'm liable to change my mind at any point right up until I actually have to mention the name in my story. But for now it's Alliad. I can't tell much about the world of Alliad right now. I'm only just beginning to get a painting in my head of what it's shaped like. Much of it I expect I'll be inventing as I go. But therein lies the fun!

I haven't had as much time as I thought I would to pre-plan for NaNo. Work keeps me busy, but it also helps clear my mind for fresh ideas. Admittedly, most of my ideas are vague. Like impressionistic paintings.

Walker Jones, one of my Main Characters (MC), strikes me as being generally laid back. He's not easily ruffled. Of course, stepping into another world is enough to ruffle anyone. He's got an easy way of talking. Often times it's like stretching out under a tree on a lazy summer afternoon. He's good with his hands -- with fixing things. The kind of guy who could build a car from scratch. He's not what people would call "book smart". It's not that he's dumb, it's just that he can't be bothered. Studying from books holds no interest for him. He'd rather learn something by seeing and touching and doing. Walker's a pretty average guy. He's of medium height and build, with tawny hair and ordinary brown eyes. A ham and cheese sandwich kind of guy.

He's probably not as laid back as I think he is. I'm still discovering Walker Jones.