Fortunate Tidings

This was my fortune from the cookie I just pulled out of the pantry.



Ah, yes, well, you know, what can I say? I have vision. Not very good vision, though, which is why I have new contact lenses.

***

Regarding roller derby, let me direct you to this roster that Cat posted in her comment; it offers info on both flat and banked track roller derby leagues around the world. (Thanks, Cat). I totally mean it when I say go see a bout for yourself.

(And thank you to all the roller derby skaters who've come to visit my blog.)

***

And now, drum roll, please...

... I did it. I finished the first draft about 10 minutes ago, by the end of February, as promised, with 52,056 words, which means that I wrote exactly 6,000 words today. It may be very short, for a novel, and it's not false humility when I say that it isn't very good, but I accomplished exactly what I intended: to
"WRITE A NOVEL, even if it’s a very bad and very short one." And really, it's just a first draft, after all.

I'm so damn proud of myself that I'm taking myself to that corporate coffee place now to celebrate.

What baffles and amazes and amuses me is this: It took me 12 years to start something I finished in 24 days.

Yeah, so if you're thinking of writing a novel, just do it. (Like I'm suddenly an expert or something.)

In case you're numerically curious, here's the breakdown, although it's not entirely accurate, because I forgot to record the word count a few days in the first week.
Feb. 5: 2,177
Feb. 6: 4,271
Feb. 11: 10,548
Feb. 12: 13,761
Feb. 13: 17,382
Feb. 16: 20,617
Feb. 18: 23,286
Feb. 20: 26,611
Feb: 22: 31,150
Feb. 23: 35,088
Feb. 24: 38,393
Feb. 25: 40,983
Feb. 26: 44,071
Feb. 27: 46,056
Feb. 28: 52,056

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get the hell away from this computer.

Derby Girls

3B and H pencils, colored in Photoshop

Al and I went with friends Sunday to a roller derby bout, to support my friend Laurie, a referee for the Dominion Derby Girls.

I've watched a few episodes of A&E's Rollergirls, but I have absolutely no recollection of watching roller derby on television when I was little, although people tell me it was there (I vividly remember watching Prince Charles' and Princess Diana's wedding, though, through the holes in the afghan, when I was supposed to be sleeping on the babysitter's couch. Oh, sorry. I digress.). I don't remember hearing much about roller derby at all, in fact. Didn't even know that, not only did Jim Croce record a song called "Roller Derby Queen," but I actually already have it on CD.

To me, it's a new sport, even if it actually dates back to the 1930s. So I had expectations, from the A&E show, but really no idea what to expect (that isn't a contradiction in my head). Some of my expectations, such as seeing lots of tattoos and some funky clothes, were met, although it was cool to discover that the crowd was actually wildly varied in age, race and "type," from the mainstream to the eccentric.

The sport, though, was, well, far more intense than I dreamed, even having heard from Laurie about the demanding workouts they go through four or so days a week. (This isn't meant to be a slight to roller derby. Keep in mind that my absolute favorite sport is baseball, where they sit around a lot of the time and stand around a lot of the time and run and throw every once in a while.)

Let me just say, wow. It's sort of like basketball, in that they don't stop very often. It's sort of like football, in that they are trying to get past each other and there's a lot of physical contact. It's sort of like Olympic speed skating, in that some of these girls are wicked fast. And then, I could make some hockey comparisons, too. But really, roller derby is quite unique. And the endurance of these athletes is awe-inspiring (as is the endurance of the refs, who must skate the entire time, unlike the competitors, who swap in and out with their teammates).

Not only that, but they can cross their feet over. I never could get the hang of that. Much less while looking backwards over my shoulder while simultaneously pulling my teammate through the pack. Quite impressive.

If there are bouts in your area, go. The rules seemed a bit tricky, at first, but eventually, they made sense. I understood what was going on and got into the cheering very quickly. I can't wait to go again.

Staying on Tune

I don't know how it happened. Honestly.

I am not a big fan of competition-style reality shows. Not only that, but I tend to prefer bands and singer/songwriter/musicians over singers who just sing (with some exceptions, most of whom recorded forty or fifty years ago). But for the first season ever, I am watching American Idol. And I'm really into it. I definitely have my favorites already. I'm invested. I am shocked, myself.

Let's just get this straight. I can't sing. Sometimes I can stay on tune, if I really pay attention and work at it. But I don't have a good singing voice. (I know this for a fact. I taped myself once, I'll admit it, out of curiosity, because I didn't think I sounded that bad, and I immediately taped over it because it was mortifying. That's when I learned that the voice we hear inside our own heads is not necessarily the same voice everyone else hears.)

But my biggest observation about American Idol is that I, personally, don't care so much about the singer's voice as I do about their personality (at this point, they all have pretty good voices, anyway). And I don't mean, "Oh, she's so sweet," or "He's so nice, please don't vote them off." I mean the personality they put into the songs. I got the impression that some of these singers memorized the lyrics as a bunch of syllables. That they had absolutely no idea what the songs they were singing were about. And that's sort of sad.

Because there's more notes to hit than musical ones. If you can't hit emotional notes, then you're just singing in another kind of off-key. If you're singing a happy song, I want to believe that you are the happiest person in the world. If you're singing a party song, I want you to get me off the couch and dancing through the sheer joy of your singing. If you're singing a love song, I want to feel loved. And if you're singing a song about breaking up with someone, it doesn't matter if you're male or female, I want to feel like you're breaking up with me.

No matter what song it is, no matter how many times I've heard it before, no matter how much it might be my favorite or least-favorite song, ever, I want to believe that you are the very first person who ever sang it, that you wrote it, last night, in your hotel room, on a napkin, and that it is the most important thing you'll ever sing.

And only a few people pulled that off. They're my favorites.

Professional Procrastination

This is very funny.

10 Ways to Be Busy All Day and Never Accomplish a Thing!

I am especially proficient at numbers 3, 5, 7, 9 and 10.

(Via Tinker).

Mailbox Magic

Wow.

My name actually got drawn out of a hat, and I opened the mailbox today to find a lovely, cheerful, bright yellow package from Tinker, full of sweet treats -- chocolate, a beautiful Valentine's cookie, a tea bag (English Breakfast, my favorite, how did she know?), and very best of all, a beautiful, luminous piece of her artwork. I am SO excited.

I really wish I could take a picture, but you'll have to settle for words, which at times like this, are highly inadequate.

A thousand thank yous, Tinker!

Found a story, found a story, found a story, last night.

Actually, it was this morning.

I rarely watch the news these days, preferring to read the paper, and even that I don't accomplish every day, but for whatever reason, I turned on CNN this morning, to find this.

Then I happened to read the whole front section (back to front -- there's a weird thing about me) and read the paper version of this.

And I remembered that not only did my husband buy peanut butter at the grocery store the other day, but he showed me the two kinds he bought when he got home. And the brands only really stuck out in my mind because I don't normally buy Peter Pan peanut butter. If he hadn't held them up to me for my approval, it would never have even occurred to me to go check our peanut butter lid for the number.

Which begins with "2111."

And get this:

The most cases were reported in New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Tennessee and Missouri.

So I watched the news, which I don't normally do, read the paper, which I haven't done lately, and actually paid attention to the peanut butter my husband bought.

Clearly, someone's trying to tell me something. Don't eat the peanut butter. And they're saying it in just the same ominous tone of voice that I use when watching scary movies: Don't open that door! Don't go into the dark woods alone! No! Are you crazy?!

But I will heed the Helpful Voice. Fortunately, he bought two brands, so we still have options. And apparently, we can get a refund if we send the lid to ConAgra foods (but their site's a little, um, busy at the moment). But, see, that means taking the lid off of the possibly contaminated peanut butter. What a dilemma. It's all so exciting.

As of yet.

All righty. Updates.

Number of words in the novel to date: 17,382

How many words I should be writing each day: 2,083.3

How many words I've averaged per day since Feb. 5: 1931.3

How many words I wrote today: 3,621. (It's getting easier.)

How many poems I've read in the last 43 days: 43. Thanks to this book.

How many drawings I've done in the last 43 days: ehhhh, not 43.

How many journal pages I've filled: a decent amount.

How many servings of fruits and vegetables I've been eating every day, on average: 1.27
(I'm making that up, but it feels about right. Hey, I said "more than one." That's more than one.)

How many days I've worked out in the last six days: 2. (And I still can't move.)

How many letters I've written since Jan. 1 to friends, family members, editors or companies: None. Not even thank-you notes for Christmas presents. I'm going to hell. But I will mail the thank-you notes from the handbasket, I swear.

Number of museums I've been to this year to date: None. But lots of people are interested in going with me. So I'll be getting that going very, very soon.

How many things I've baked: I made peanut butter cookies in January. I think it was in January. Honey, was it in January? They were very, um, greasy.

How many classes I'm taking right now: Signed up for more drawing lessons, so that counts. But I'd like to take another one or two, as well.


Honestly? I may only be actually accomplishing about half of the resolutions on a strictly numerical basis, but life has felt pretty good the past month and a half overall. I'm pretty darn pleased with myself.

One more update: Took the digital camera into Best Buy (turns out I bought the 4-year service plan and I thank my 29-year-old self for that wise choice) and they are attempting to fix it. I've never loved my camera, mainly because the flash is so overwhelming that it smashes everything in its reach, but the camera has suited my needs up to this point, and I miss it. I wish I could send it letters, as if it were at summer camp.