'allow Moneypenny. Fancy a Shag?

Aside from writing and reading, I'm finding myself drawn to British sitcoms.
Young Ones, Bottom, and of course, Ab Fab and French & Saunders. I'm getting more & more on to British culture.(If that makes any sense)-- Like they say "Happy Christmas". And the wearing of Paper Crowns on Christmas. I first saw it on The Osbournes and thought they were just being quirky. Then I saw it on an Ab Fab Christmas episode. Then saw it again on a Bottom Christmas episode.(Which made for a hilarious joke that really must be seen to be appreciated)

ANYway.. this isn't productive blogging, is it? What is productive blogging anyway? To write something clever, I suppose. But I have a bit of a rough time with that some days. Of course, Noelle has uncomprehendable genius and her blogs are always brilliant. No- I'm serious!
I hear her play is coming right along... and even though the actors can't possibly have the same creative vision as Noelle's, I'm sure she'll get them on the right track soon enough.

I was in the library... looking at the paper backs. Looking at the "Avon Romances"... They've got guidelines for unsolicited manuscripts... I could make millions if I mastered the format/formula. But what of my artistic integrity? Can a writer whore themselves out just to get their foot in the door and be able to later turn around and do the pieces they truly want to write? Or does this cheapen the writer and leave their legitimacy ruined and unsalvagable?
Hmmmm....

P.S.- This Friday will be 1 month since my last cigarette. Hurrah!!

"Oh dear. Mr. Dictionary seems to have abandoned us again."

I've faded out of focus with my writing, but I've regained it and I'm clattering away at the keys. Three chapters done on the love story. Part of a chapter on the 'Homocidal Thriller'... and a small handful of ideas waiting to be fleshed out and finished for short stories.


Saw another article on Dr. Thompson. Apparently he'd been talking about killing himself for quite some time. Explaining to his wife what he wanted done after he died. That fateful Sunday he was talking to Anita, told her to hold a moment, set down the phone, and shot himself. She said he wanted to leave "at the top of his game".

I almost look for Hollywood to make a movie. It would fit their M.O. I just hope it's tastefully done.

When the going gets wierd, the wierd turn pro.

We'll miss you, Doc.

I caught a glimpse of it on msn.com. You know, where they post all their news articles. I wasn't sure I'd seen what I thought I'd seen. But it's true. The Doctor of Gonzo Journalism apparently shot himself Sunday. He was 67.

why is it the writers I really dig live such troubled lives? There was a joke in my Development of the American Novel class that if you wanted to be a writer you needed to be an alcoholic. I think the only fave author of mine that's still with us is Clive Barker. I mean, OK, Stephen King's put out a few jems, but... Ida know. Where's this going? Guess I'll stop while I'm ahead.

It never got weird enough for me either.

I Don't Even Want a Cigarette

No sir.
I'm past due on my cell bill and they're threatening to shut me off.(again) I've gotten late notices from my Student Loan collectors.(Vampires!) And my brother's cat just killed my valentine rose while my sister sat on the other side of the room completely sucked into the epic thrill ride that is the Lord of the Rings Special Features. She had no idea that the cat was on the table. The cat had no business on the table in the first place. Best of all, my sister laughed about it. This is the second time that accursed cat has ruined one of the roses I've gotten from Jim. Although this time it could've been prevented. If my sister didn't have such tunnel vision. Maybe she was jealous of my rose and purposely ignored the cat. Nay, even encouraged the cat to chomp on my token of Jim's affection.

No sir. I don't want a cigarette.

I can't afford a cup of warm piss, and the shining light and endearing symbol of love I received the other day has been cruely defaced.

No sir. I don't want a cigarette.

Think of that Butter Pecan Haagen Daaz I get at the end of the week. Hmmm. Instead, I'll pig out on sheet cake, New York Vanilla and an International Coffee. Oh. Yeah. That's a much better alternative. (I'm not sure if I'm being sarcastic here. Cuz that really is happy food.)


SERENITY NOW!!

The Karen Chronicles

I've just read Noelle's blog, so I'm not going to gush about my valentine's day. It was a modest celebration on our part.(Jim & I) But no less meaningful and charming. I'm not one of those women who demand to be treated like some queen and get the expensive treatment.(Hotel rooms, dinner at a fancy resturaunt, jewelry, chocolates, etc.) We have our own little quirks and sentimental values that make it unique/special.


BUT--
Aside from that. ...I'm reading more. I'm entering week 3 as a non-smoker. If-- no, WHEN I make it to Friday without a cigarette, I've got a pint of Butter Pecan Haagen Daas I'm treating myself to. It'll be the longest I've ever been without a cigarette.

I was flipping through my journals today. Jim tells me I've got a knack for writing and invited me to read entries to him. They're just journals. But Jim says they're well-written. Some day when I'm a famous (possibly posthumously) They'll take my journals and these blogs and put them in a book. "The Lost Writings of Karen Marie" or "The Karen Chronicles". Ida know. Like Noelle said, it doesn't cost a thing to dream.

I managed to get Sarah to get a sheet cake and New York Vanilla Ice cream. It was an answer to a craving I was having. But I cleverly disguised it as: "You really didn't get an official birthday cake, did you?"(Sarah's birthday was last week) So my craving for sheet cake has been answered. And Ice cream. Sarah warns me this is counter-productive. But it was a request that needed to be answered. Comfort is promised just beyond that ripple of yellow frosting and spoonful of frosty cream. Oh boy oh boy. Now I gotta get some ice cream.

Obla di Obla da!!

Life does go on, right?

And International Coffees are good medicine. They have healing properties. But as is my tendancy with things that are uber-taystee/uber-precious I do my level best to save them. (i.e.: My remnant of cotton candy that has now become a blue rock)
Now in defense of the cotton candy, it was something I'm rarely able to get my hands on and it is a piece of memrobilia from when Jim and I went to the zoo.(there's an anecdote there that makes the cotton candy special) - And being the romantic I am, I'm huge on symbolism and saving things.

HOWEVER,
International Coffees are not at all hard to come by. So what the hell am I doing?? I'm going to have a cup of French Vanilla Cafe.

I'm hard at work on my 'period piece', hoping to get a completed draft before tomorrow afternoon when I meet with Noelle. I can't wait to see her play. She's going to be famous screenwriter, I know it.
I must pound those keys. It's the only way to become a famous author, right? I'll be a best seller, and Jim can leave his much loathed and thankless job to pursuit his own passions(Photography, air brush, trapping).

Oh yeah? Oh yeah!

Confound adversity with a smile.

Well, I'm looking at Orchid info again. I figured it was that time of year to get the two that are still alive to bloom. Then, after much reading I discover that moth orchids can bloom year 'round if they get the right amount of light & fertilizer.
I couldn't help but think about the orchids that have died on me in the past. what simple thing or things I could've done to keep them alive. The pessimist in me says not to buy any more orchids. But I got the one moth orchid to bloom again.. why not have the same luck with a dendrobium? We must be optimistic in all that we do.
Otherwise we'd have nothing to shoot for.

I can feel the itchings of spring. It's arguable that my yearning for spring is so strong that I think I can feel it coming, or it could be a load of horse-puckey. I look outside and it's like I'm stuck in a snow globe. rosebud!!

Carpe Diem-- Sieze the Carp!

Pennies from Heaven

Gave Chico the Wonder Dog a bath. Actually, we both took a bath.

Having a salad cause I'm feeling peckish and Jim's making rotisserie chicken later tonite.(Don't want to ruin my appetite)
I told Jim about going to coffee, not having money and Noelle was so sweet she bought me a coffee. Jim frowned at me and said: "Why didn't you tell me you didn't have any money??!!" meaning he would've given me some cash. I'm so lucky to have such sweet people in my life now. 2 even!

See! Life does get better. To think there was a time in my life that I actually went looking for reasons to be depressed 'cause I thought it was easier-- That depression and meloncholy suited me better. Like that's what I was supposed to be and I had to preserve that character at all costs. But you know what? It's like Jim Stark said: "Life CAN be beautiful."(only w/out the sarcasm)--- {My apologies to anyone who hasn't seen Rebel without a Cause & don't get the reference}

I even like the chicken if the sauce is not too blue

Oatmeal. Wonderful stuff. Put a couple pats of butter on it and drown it in evaporated milk. Mmm! Alas, I have no evaporated milk at the moment, so I'm using sweetend condensed milk. Which is equally tasty, I must say. I said to myself, self, we need to stop skipping breakfast, it might just help keep us from being so piggish in the evenings.

The starvation bit isn't working quite like I thought it would. Instead, my hunger leads me to daydreaming about foods that sound oh-so-taystee.(i.e. pizza, bagel sandwhiches, tacos/burritos, chili) I mean I love to cook, this is true. HOWEVER, I have to be careful how much of a given dish I cook. OH! Speaking of which... I've got a venison roast in the freezer. I wanna try and score some carrots and new potatoes to go with it. Hmmm. That's hard to do when one has no money. Shit.

Gotta work today. Gotta call Noelle today.(or maybe send her an e-mail) I didn't get a chance to call & stop by becuz the folks suddenly decided they'd have Sarah's birthday dinner that night.

SO... yeah.
I wish I could write a cool blog like Noelle.(No, really-I liked it!)

Chico the boy-wonder's whining & fidgeting. Probably has to go potty.

Gonna Fly Now!

Well, provided nothing goes wrong tomorrow, I'll be having a bubble bath tomorrow night. HURRAH!! too cool.

I really don't even miss cigarettes, really. Sometimes there'd be a subconscious habit to reach for a cigarette after a meal, but if I give it a minute or two the urge passes.

I wish I knew why the short story I'm working on feels like a struggle. I know the synopsis. I know the events that need to happen. But I've never written a 'period piece' before and somehow I've got this worry that it'll sound hokey. But you know what? That's what revisions are for-- Just write it, get it down-- I can fix the 'hokey' parts later. And that's what this peer critique with Noelle will be for. To help each other fix the weaknesses in our stories.

I think I'll go fix myself a French Vanilla Nut International Coffee. I've earned it, really. I'm becoming a non-smoker! I haven't had a morning coughing fit at all this week.

I'm an artist. No, really.

An artist, you say?

Really, I'm not kidding.
Oh.... I stink, really. Jim tells me I have talent. But you know... There are some things I can draw, and some things I can't. But I'll never learn to draw them until I practice them.(Figure drawing comes to mind)--- The point being: I miss drawing and painting. It wasn't that I wanted to be a professional painter... I painted just for the sake of painting itself. It relaxed me and I enjoy it.

Also, I have to set to work on that short story I started. I needed/wanted to finish it anyway, but there'll be a peer critique at the end of this rainbow. Immediate feedback- it's great. Noelle's writing a story and we'll exchange stories on Friday to critique each other. Then I'll get that story off into the mail as well.