I realize I was remiss in my recounting of the events of last night. I didn't mention thatsome friends dropped by the creepy crypt. Trinity showed up in all her leather clad beauty. She kept singing that she was "so much cooler online". I found this amusingly ironic since she is incredibly cool everywhere. She just has mad programming skills. Dracula dropped in to visit. He may have been hungry for the opportunity to give out rubber duckies to hobbits and children. Yes, I have a new little witch friend. She splashes in my tub and I call her Wanda.

Some crazy, faceless scarecrow was also trying to eat small children in my driveway. As he was faceless, this didn't work very well for him. He did cause many of them to be frightened away. If he had a mouth, he would have been grinning from ear to ear. He didn't have ears either. Maybe that is why he was so scary (because no one could sing "Do Your Ears Hang Low?" to him). In fact, a couple of groups actively boycotted our house. This could be because, as was reported by a couple of our visitors, "This is always the scariest house on the block", but I like to blame the scarecrow.

My young neighbors were even amazed by how quickly our lawn turned from boring and marshy to terrifying. Indeed, it is believed that we have way too much Halloween decor. This assertion coming on top of random commentary from myself and others about how every day is Halloween to me (especially during "cloak weather").

Speaking of the critics, I had my own little run-in with a mini-critic last night. I believe I not only escaped unscathed but also defeated a little of his spirit. He marched over to us, began pointing and made his assessments. "You need a face," to the scarecrow. "Not enough blood," to Dracula. "You need guns," to Trinity. Then he stared at me. He looked me over. He looked me over again. He looked completely confused. This happens to most people who behold a Bella original. He finally reached his conclusion. He shrugged his little shoulders and said, "And you...I don't know." This resulted in me exclaiming, "YES!" and then offering him candy. Despite the poor review, Dracula still presented him with his own little ducky.

I've spent today trying to come down from the sugar rush. The extreme amounts of leftover goodies and candy that are circulating have not been helping, but I have hope for a future with a little more blood in my sugar stream. In the meantime, I have teeth to brush and other less exciting things to do...

I have been struggling a lot with letting things go lately. I am not talking about my anger. I let it go. People just feel they need to revive it. People are idiots. I could talk about that for hours, but that really doesn't serve much purpose, does it?

I am also not talking about letting go of my pants. I had to tighten my belt today because my pants are anti-hobbit. Nothing is more uncomfortable for the modest than finding that a tiny bit of our skin is showing because our pants went down and our shirt went up. I know I am odd (since I see lots of belly skin every day and even shoulders in this frigid weather), but I am a firm believer that no one really wants to see my non-sun-kissed skin peeking out of my clothes. And even if they do, I don't. As I have been identified and they haven't, I win.

So I have a full plate for the weekend. Despite the fact that I am not attending a fun conference with my friends, I still know I shall not be without entertainment. I have to finalize my costume for the Murder Mystery that is coming up on Friday. I need to memorize my lines (and maybe start taking some ginkgo biloba). I have laundry to do, a house to tidy, cats to feed, and piles of paper to send to the paper reaper (or I could let Ziggy the rat eat them). I also need to start migrating this site to a new server. I love these extra little tasks that come alone. Maybe the migration will cause me to revamp this site and fix what I have left broken and create what has been in progress for two years. Don't hold your breath, but it is a thought.

Bring me peace, little electric shocks to the brain
Make me real, make me feel no more of this pain
Make me not linger, awaiting some sinister name
That will bring me down, not save me from fame
That must swallow the diva before day is done
None will understand, not a single one
And I, too, will be a martyr for a day
But I never ever wanted it that way...

"Get what you can and keep what you have; that's the way to get rich." ~Scottish Proverb

"Children have more need of models than of critics." ~Joseph Joubert

Some days you just want to do crazy things. Other days, you just want to do all the things you have been putting off. Not that many of us are dying to grow up and enter the real world. The more I open my ears to listen, the more I notice that many of the people around me live in a rich fantasy world. I've known this since I was at least about twelve. I remember a conversation with myself in the bathtub (mermaid divas find water stimulating) about how the world only sees what it wants to see, hears what it wants to hear, and thinks what it wants to think.

My brain should be gearing up by quoting really cute poems about pie and making huge lists of my blessings. I should be singing "Count Your Blessings" and dancing with some turkeys. Instead my head is rewriting Christmas carols in honor of cars I have known. ???

"Rudolph got run over by my grandma...Driving the Omni home from my house one Christmas Eve...As for me and Santa, we believe."

You can imagine the rest of the ditty in my head is classic. It has so many classic elements. Okay, so it mentions the Omni. Everyone loves an Omni. I fear I dreamed about that last night. This would be the dream before someone shot my cell phone. I may have some repressed cell phone hatred coursing through my blood...

So I decided to do something crazy this month. I have to do something crazy or I will just pop. So I decided to randomly start another novel. Great idea? Right. We all know this is just going to make me more irritable. Particularly since I have a deadline, but it may just make me a star. Hahaha. If you are bored, you can join the rest of us in trying to fill the world with books at http://www.nanowrimo.org/

On another note, I have begun transferring this site its new home. This means the site may disappear for a few days while I try to make time for the great transfer.

So I did some figure crunching today. I am not talking about stomach crunches though my abs would probably loves those. I am not referring to crunch bars though everyone knows that my taste buds appreciate those. I am referring the numbers involved in my new form of mental anxiety--writing a novel in a month. The goal is 50,000 words. Now that doesn't sound daunting enough, does it? Of course not. Then I realize I have about twenty-two more days to type that many words and have them make sense (and no monkeys to help me). Then I ponder the fact that I won't be writing on Sundays, which takes my number of days down to nineteen. This means I have to write 3,000 words a day (approximately) to accomplish this goal. So why am I still typing this journal entry???

Well, it has to do with this other serious problem I have. I love to talk about myself. *laughs* Now if only I had something interesting to say about myself.

I am not one of the awesome people that sets the town on fire. I also do not quite follow the colors I should and should not be wearing on any given day. Today's color to avoid was apparently red. As luck would have it, my coat is red. It was a bit too cold to be cloak weather. I never thought that would be a problem, but as I made my way to lunch, I was stopped by a rattler who informed me that red is the color of our opponents. I later found that others shared the feeling that red is the color of betrayal. I swear that a guy I walked in front of wanted traffic to move so he could hit me with his car. Maybe red just makes people angry. Maybe I will find out, but as of this moment, I am about five hundred words short of today's quota.

SIDE NOTE: From the sounds my neighbors are making, I believe we have scored at least one touchdown. GO TEAM!!!

It's Saturday. I am awake. I am propped up on a cat since he felt he needed to sit as close to me as possible. I am waiting for my brain to be awake enough to process my "to do" list and my three thousand words for the day...

In the meantime, I have to share the trials of my day off. I woke up a little later than normal. I rolled over and realized the cats must have been fed since they weren't eating me. I putzed around the house, sorting and doing the other things that a hobbit does when the words aren't coming.

Then when I was about to sit back down and actively seek out the words, I came across a small snag in my plans. The power went out on this side of town. Apparently, a log truck took out a couple of power poles. I had to resort to scribbling down words on a piece of paper and hoping my computer would be available for midnight updates of my word count.

Of course, I couldn't find out until after I returned from another semi-satisfying amateur acting debut. That's right, this year's Murder Mystery was presented last night to a smaller crowd than expected. Smaller? I judge this based on the amount of leftover food. I can't complain too much though because I came home with three delicious pieces of pie...

Quick assessment of the play: Apparently, none of us spoke loud enough. Teddy Roosevelt would be so disappointed. I also had one table convinced we all did it (like on the Orient Express). Of course, a super villian was in the mix. Of course, we didn't all work together with such a condition. Speaking of work...

It is a certain talent to fill one's days so full that time to breath is not on the list of tasks to accomplish. I have this particular talent. I have a list of basic things that I want to accomplish every day. It has fourteen items on it, but it manages to monopolize all my free time. This leads to the common complaint that I don't make enough time to do the tasks other people wish to assign me. Maybe if they pay me, I'll be more cooperative.

So last night proved to be a trial of my ability not to grumble when I drive. I failed. I am one of those disgruntled grannies who drives her car too slow and secretly dislikes you because you don't use your turn signal. I also don't like people who dress all in black and walk in the middle of the road at night. I know it sounds like a great idea, but I tend to disagree. Why? Well, apparently, I care more about people's safety than they do. (That or they think they have the right to be completely stupid.)...

Every one of us can find those moments when despair hits us. We remember the moment when we feel we became a man or a woman or a child again. We reminisce about the moments when we realized how terrible this world has become. We watch moments unfold every day on the screen and the page.

We strain our necks at car crashes. We are relentless in our pursuit of the dollar. We hang onto our grudges. We let the whole world be tainted by our own reflection of the evil that surrounds us. If we took one moment to reflect before we think or act, perhaps, we could at last find happiness. I'm still looking for mine. I am also looking for an organization to donate reflective tape to people who want to walk the crazy streets at night.

My tummy is much less angry today. I am blaming it on the fact that I got an appropriate amount of sleep last night besides more vain attempts to pull me out of my slumber early. Of course, I may have just tamed my tummy by eating about half a turkey single-handedly. My pie was a success with hobbits and only hobbits matter.

In other matters, I am almost two days behind on my self-inflicted quota. I am hoping to fix that this weekend but we shall see. I also need to post information on how you can donate to an important cause based on your faith that I will finish this novel. I will, I promise. I am also pretty certain I will finish it this month. Of course, as a diva and a critic, I know that it will not be up to my high standards and I will spend all of next month telling it that it needs help. Ah, yes, my brutal lashings go out to more than shadow dancers on dark roads and cell phone abusers. Anyway, I need to put more words into another realm if I can. Sweet dreams.

These emotions inside of me aren't mine
I look I seek, I can not find
Their source in me so I look to you
And feel you think you already knew
What was washing over me, but no
You can not answer, it is not so
I've found a place that cn not be
Only one can change the way I see

"It is not impossibilities which fill us with the deepest despair, but possibilities which we have failed to realize." ~Robert Mallet (1915-2002)

"Most of the things worth doing in the world were said to be impossible before they were done." ~Louis Brandeis (1856-1941)

"When eating fruit, think of the person who planted the tree." ~Vietnamese Proverb

"Gratitude is the memory of the heart." ~J.B. Massieu

"To really enjoy the better things in life, one must first have experienced the things they are better than." ~Oscar Holmolka (1898-1978)

"Do not let trifles disturb your tranquility of mind. ...Life is too precious to be sacrificed for the nonessential and transient. ..Ignore the inconsequential." ~Grenville Kleiser (1868-1953)

"If there is one skill in life that we all need to learn it”Ēs how to get back up, dust ourselves off, and get on with things." ~A. C. Ping

"You can measure a man by the opposition it takes to discourage him." ~Robert C. Savage

Slowly the silky threads come undone. Relased from my cocoon shell, I rise up. I spread my beautiful wings to fly. Yet I am no butterfly. I am a moth risen into the darkness and burned by the flames I seek. It makes no sense that I would keep chasing the fire, but I must...

Word debt seems to be a common problem with me these days. As of this moment I am over ten thousand words behind in my goals. Will I ever catch up? Will I ever spend less time scrubbing random surfaces and other such acts of cleaning than typing away? I could just cat nap with the cats. They always looks so peaceful with their tails in their noses while I am tapping tapping tapping and hoping it all makes sense outside my head.

Today has been uneventful thus far. It has been full of my own brand of excitememnt, however. I have washed dishes. I have dug through old papers to reveal that I am indeed saving everything. I also dipped my hand into the wild world of making my own cranberry sauce. It is actually quite easy. Besides that, the berries really pop. How could I resit that?

So I feel I should present myself as a living miracle. This is not because I survived the opportunity to binge on various items, but I can start there. Yesterday was an eventful day for me. I got up and had a breakfast that disagreed with me. Since my slumber had also disagreed with me, I crawled back under my covers and slept for another five hours. I woke up just in time to fling together the ingredients to a green bean casserole (I recommend the recipe on the French fried onions and not just because they are French ;).

Having completed that task and rescued my cranberry sauce from the forgotten depths of the fridge, I traversed the two miles to the Institute and snuck inside. No one was there. This is no surprise since I am a professional at being early. I wandered into the room that we were planning to eat in and was absolutely amazed. My friend Britta, despite her tremendously pregnant state, had turned our meager little classroom into a feast-worthy sanctuary. She had tablecoths and glasses and plates all set out. The ping pong table had been transformed into a bufft table complete with raised platforms to display the fine cuisine and fall leaves (plastic, of course, we're a sanitary lot).

Other people began arriving. About twenty people showed up including at least two incredibly polite children. Did I mention they were also adorable? I was impressed. Now to list the menu thus causing you to remember back to your own feast and drool. We had three different types of potatoes, three types of sweet potatoe casserole, two type of cranberry sauce (one made with craisins--how crazy is that?), stuffing, two types of turkey (I have now had deep-fried turkey), two types of gravy, seven layer dip, tortilla chips, pistachios, rolls (made by hotChad with his own hobbit hands), and probably some other stuff I enjoyed eating though I can't remember it. For dessert, we had pumpkin pie, cherry pie, ice cream, French (mmmmm) silk pie, banana cream pie, and bread pudding with blackberries and cream.

So after partaking of almost everything in sight, I became obessed with washing the dishes. As rarely happens, I was evicted from the kitchen. Most of the plates were clean by then. I hadn't made a dent in the silverware, but my hands were complaining as tends to happen when one does not turn on the cold water, but that is another story. That is also not miraculous.

So I was leaving the Institute with a belly full of food, wrinkly hands, and the thought on my mind that I hoped my roomie and my brother hadn't been waiting for me to start eating. I was distracted. I was driving the speed limit and not paying much attention to people around me. Then for no known reason, I slammed on my brakes. Looking in front of me, I saw a van whipping in front of me. Had I kept traveling at the speed I was going and that van had done the same, I am pretty sure I would have spent the rest of the week in the ICU if not worse. People boggle my mind. I admit I was paranoid about following that vehicle all the way down High Street, particularly since they were in the lane next to me and didn't use a turn signal once the whole time I was behind them. Luckily, almost killing me once was enough.

Today has been equally exciting, but I am running out of time to add even a word to my NaNoWriMo, but you can offer me some moral support.. Donate!

I shall try to briefly recap some things from this weekend. These events led me to fall tremendously behind. I have just four days, in fact, to complete half a novel. I fear this bodes not well for either my self-esteem or people who think that they have a right to make me feel bad for not being everywhere at once. We'll see. Back to the weekend's observations.

1. Ann has an incredible tolerance for hobbits. I think she spent a good sixteen hours in my company this weekend. Part of that time involved me singing. We did learn the words to "It's My Party" and "Leader of the Pack"--well mostly.

2. Amanda's son, Hayden, is so adorable he could charm all the socks off of a caterpillar. He has this fabulous smile that lights up a room.

3. Teach a little child to do the train and you will be doing the train for every song (regardless of rhythm) for the rest of the evening.

4. Folding tablecloths gets really boring after about the fiftieth one.

5. If you want to catch the bouquet, it really is a good idea to stand in front of me and my friends. Why? The bride is going to throw it at those bordering spinsterhood (or surpassing it, in my case) and they are not going to try to catch it.

6. Being the single guy when there are three single girls means they will ask you to dance if you are not doing your duty.

Anyone can tell it simply by looking at me. They can tell I am trying to make time. They may not be fully aware of what I am trying to make time for, but they really should know that asking me to make time for one more thing is going to have only one result. What result is that? Someone is going to end up cleaning up some very messy, high-strung hobbit matter from whatever surface is near the hobbit when she finally pops.

Why is it that I am floored when someone says they like me and I realize that they mean it? How can I still be shocked when people mention that they missed me? What makes me doubt the sincerity of the people who tell me over and over how I made them feel welcome and loved? Who has filled me with so many lies about how I am perceived that I am wary of harming someone with a simple flick of my tongue? When will I see beyond all of that and come to grips with me? Where will all of this end?

I keep coming back to similar veins of thought. I struggle to be kind to people even when I know doing so is doing me no good. It is never good enough for some of them. They whine. They complain. They pout. They play martyr. I know because I play martyr, too. Aren't I doing it right now?

Then I come face to face with memories that should be sending me to to my knees. In prayer. Do you know how many wonderful people I know. We all have the pseudo-appreciators who wish to flatter us. They thank us for a talk or something we said but they have no idea what we said. They thank us for something we made, not realizing they just thanked the wrong person. The world is also full of people who just thank us for being in the room even if we didn't say or do anything. Maybe it isn't a real thanks, but noticing someone is actually there even if it didn't benefit you at all is a great achievement.

I thanked someone for something recently. They looked at me like I was crazy. Granted, what they had done benefited them as well, but I felt like thanking them. I should never be called insincere whether it be with a look or in words. I am not good at feigned affection, appreciation, or adulation in order to get gain. It isn't my goal. Of course, my only real goal right now is to put words elsewhere. Feel free to donate as encouragement by the way. Every little bit counts.

Dangerous business. Very dangerous business. People are always changing. Some of them are not the way you perceived them to begin with. Shall I expound?

I am writing a novel (or twenty). I write poetry, but I hate it, so don't ask me how I feel about Baudelaire, Shelly, Tennyson, Keats, or Longfellow. I haven't really studied them because my bias would make those feelings unfair. I do happen to like children (and not in stew). I am not a witch. Sorry, Sita, it never was...I am a Mormon. I know some of you are lying to me. I am just hoping you'll confess and make it right before I lose the last thread of patience with manipulative games. I don't want what you have. I have my own problems, thank you very much.

Also, I can think for myself. I value my own opinion most of the time. I'm wearing a pretty outfit, make-up, or a new hairstyle? Thank you for appreciating it, but it wasn't for you. No, it wasn't for him. Nope, not him. Nope. Not her. Not her. Not you. Must I digress. I am doing what I am doing what I do for me. My opinions and moods are inconstant just like every one else, but I understand them.