Friday, November 8, 2013

Of Batman, A Baby, A Betta, & A Banging Headache

Hello, everyone, and welcome to the very first entry for my newest blog "The Balance Between." In this blog, I intend to bore you with my ordinary life, but hopefully tell it in such a way that you don't find it as boring - though I don't promise your experience will be extraordinary, either. The balance between the two is what I'm aiming for, and I hope that I hit it right on target.

Without further delaying your life to read about mine, let me start with telling you about my week, which started with several hours of Batman Origins with the main interruption being my Muse, who kept saying, “Hey, it’s NaNoWriMo. What are you doing?” I promised my Muse that I would write 5,000 words on Friday and Saturday. Batman will have to wait, I guess. After all, a promise is a promise, and I was becoming slightly delusional anyway. The only thing keeping me from truly believing I wasn't Batman was because I'm a woman; maybe it's a good thing I don't own Wonder Woman. (This is all tongue-in-cheek of course. I'm not crazy. I'm probably the most normal out of my siblings; then again, that's not saying much.)

What other stuff was I able to do? Oh, yeah: I watched almost all of my shows, with the exception Revolution and Vampire Diaries, which I intend to watch tonight. My favorite show right now is "The Originals," which comes on Tuesday nights at 8pm on the CW, followed directly after by "Supernatural." I’ve only watched "Haven" once this season, but I’ll catch up on it sometime or other. I don’t watch anything by myself anymore. I don’t know what that’s a sign of? Probably a busy life?

As for as writing goes for this month, I am going to finish my “Reuben: The Fangless Terror” for NaNo, which I started earlier this year. For some reason, I find it easier to write poetry. I guess it’s because I’m having a poetry-writing fixation—and I’ve written over 100 poems this year. People keep saying, “Why don’t you turn your poems into a volume of poetry and sell it? Individual poems don’t sell.” I wouldn’t know how to go about that, without turning it into a self-published work. I tried that route for a few months with my other work and found it distasteful, so I would rather keep my poetry between myself, family, and friends before I turned my work into street-corner nonsense again. Besides, there’s Fjords Review, who accepted one of my poems for their Public Poetry Series, and a sensational lady by the name of Dee Thompson who posted my work on her blog this week. I find it odd that I was directed down these paths by the same eccentric person.

On a side note, I might as well admit that I’ll always be a hopeless romantic—with an ISTJ personality. Imagine Spock as a hopeless romantic. Funny, right? Right? *crickets chirping* Ok, then, and we're going...

To be honest, the idea of entering a relationship on such a private level irks me, but when I see others in love I’m like, “Oh. How sweet!” Still, the sweetest scene I saw this week wasn’t between a man and a woman. It was between an almost one-month old baby and a man who, moments before, said that if it was up to him mankind would be extinct. Suddenly, there he stood in my office, holding a baby and kissing its little bald head—I was moved. I don’t care if he is reading this; I’m still vastly enthused by the coming of a day when he can be a grandfather with candy in his pocket. No pressure!

Personally, I love animals more than people. This week, I lost my friend, Goo, who was a pale pink betta that I owned for a little over a year. He took possession of my heart, just like his brothers and sisters before him, and I will miss him dearly. Still, like I was saying to a student this week: I'm just glad he's a fish, which means he's far less expensive than a cat or a dog, and I don't have to worry about getting him fixed or anything like that. It doesn't mean that I don't love bettas... or goldfish. I've been a fish person for years. They are less expensive and demanding, which makes them all the more a joy to keep. I love my oldest and dearest sister, Audra, for doing this for me, which made me cry:

This week also saw me slumped down by a migraine. I was like, “What is this? What’s happening to me? Am I dying?” Thoughts during the night, of course, are always a little too extreme. I stayed awake all night Wednesday and called in on Thursday to say I would be coming in late. To be honest, I felt like a weakling. Still, the headache wasn’t completely gone when I went into work, but I wasn’t going to miss out on welcoming new students into the program. I felt like a zombie halfway through orientation, and, as the day progressed, I felt more and more like everything was moving in slow motion, with the lights around me zoning in on me as if preparing to blow me up. During this time, though, I still couldn't find it in me to say, "I feel bad. Can I please go home?" THE STUDENTS, as always, GIVE ME STRENGTH - and then some.

I woke up feeling good on Friday, made myself some breakfast (mmm-hmm… coffee, coffee, coffee) and now I’m going to delve into the realm of “Reuben: The Fangless Terror.” Gotham City will have to wait.

What do I rate this week on a scale of 1-10? I rate this week as a 7.5.

What am I reading this week? "My Perplexing Complexities" by Susan Henry (I fully intend to blog about her book once I complete it.)

What's my favorite song this week? "All that matters now" by Ben Harper and Charlie Musselwhite

What fictional character do I find intriguing this week? Elijah on "The Originals" (I swear, though, every time I write that name I want to write Ellijay.)

What's my favorite Bible verse for this week? Proverbs 17:17: A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.

Care to read an excerpt of something I've written lately? This is from "Reuben":
Briefly, my attention turned to somewhere else, wanting to calm myself before his inaction shattered my demeanor. This wasn’t a time long ago, where conversations about slayers and witches clung to the air like acrid smoke, suffocating any hope of tranquility for my kind. Because of the countless clauses about anti-discrimination these days, I knew the old days no longer existed. Modern society accepted everyone, which caused the slayers to keep their distance while we kept ours. Phrases like, “You’re a monster!” were obsolete in this era, where mortal monsters existed in a greater number than the immortal ones. Still, two sides to every coin existed—and as sure as any anti-abortionist wanted to end abortion forever, slayers lurked in the shadows with the same kind of malice towards vampires. The only thing that stopped them rested in not having the power to carry out the action.

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