After a full day of work, I relax in bed by focusing on story ideas. Sometimes, this is the only time of the day that I am able to really think about my stories. It is exciting and calming all at the same time. And unfortunately, most of the time, I am not writing anything down. It's a way for me to think that I'm making progress without actually making any progress. (More on this bad habit later.) This time, though, I did.
I had a dream a few years ago that lasted for three nights, and on the final night, the mystery was solved. Most of it didn't make any sense once I woke up, but the world that the characters inhabited stuck with me. I tried to reconstruct the plot that played out in my dreams and turn it into something that would actually make sense. That would rive a reader to continue on. This proved to be difficult. I had a world, but I didn't seem to have any motivation for my characters. Why would she leave home? Why would she need to get to the capitol? And in this idyllic town, what is actually lurking underneath? Nothing seemed to piece these things together, and I was left with a world and no plot.
A few months ago, I was inspired by, of all things, a post online. It was simple, and from that, I began to create a character that would in habit that thought. She would be different. And this difference would make her an outcast. Through this life as a pariah she would discover that things in her world weren't exactly what they seemed, and her culture, religion, and way of life would all be questioned. However, I was stalled with creating what exactly her world would look like. And once she becomes an outcast, what would that mean for her? Where would she go?
I worked for a while on developing these ideas separately: Going through the history of the fantasy realm first glimpsed in my dream, and slowly piecing together the social interactions of the community in which the outcast lived. The stories were at a standstill. The only words on paper were smatterings of ideas, outlines, and source material for more research. The ideas were growing stale, and I focused on them less and less at night before bed. I started to shelve them for another time when I was more inspired, and moved on to other ideas.
At the beginning of this week, as I lay in bed, I had a break through: Join the two stories. World, meet character; character, meet world. It seems extremely obvious now, seeing both story issues laid out in print, but they were so separate in my head, that when I first had the thought to combine them, I had doubts. But what about the special differences between the two? And then I realized, those details were not important, and weren't working anyway. And when I accepted it, the story jumped ahead, and suddenly I had two different religions, how the passing of a year is marked, a festival, geography, lore, and why my main character would leave home. There is still a long way to go in shaping characters, creating the world and its history, and planning out key plot points, but it's a start. It's a start, and I am inspired again. Will it lead me to finish a novel? I don't know. I just can't believe how obvious it is to me now, and why I could not see it before.
So go out and take a look at a few old ideas you have that you have stalled on. Now turn them around. Look at them from the ending first. Combine two ideas to see if they could exist in the same universe. The goal is to look at them in a different way. Even if you cling to that dusty old idea, and hate the thought of tearing apart the fragile pieces you've already built up, try it anyway. I promise, you can go back to the original idea afterwards. But after imagining the story in a different way, you might not want to.
Writing Exercise: A Chance Meeting
500 words
Take two story ideas that you've shelved. Take them down, dust them off, and set them up on a crisp, blank page - either on screen or paper. For both options, this must be an entirely new page, separate from either story idea.
The main character from each story are the two characters in this scene
The location is your choice
Somehow, these characters have come in contact with one another. The scene can address how they came into contact, or you can choose not to explain.
I had two friends in middle school who would listen to all of my story ideas. With one friend, I had her read roughly 60 pages of a story I had been working on. With the other friend, we would sit at her house and take turns reading stories out loud to each other from Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine (oh yeah, I was one sought after middle-schooler). She even bought me a journal for my birthday with a custom cover that she drew, specifically titled for one of my story ideas. I clearly remember, as I let another story idea escape my brain, she said to me, "You should write down every story idea you have. Adults would love to have as many story ideas as you have every day." And I had smiled, thinking that I would never be one of those adults. I couldn't imagine not having stories jut into my daydreams, keep me up at night, or latch on to me at the most random moments.
All through high school and college, stories would come to me. From snatches of news stories, conversations, or two subjects that my brain found a link to, they would be there. I looked forward to the blank page and the blinking cursor. Even while majoring in creative writing, it didn't feel like work. They were stories that needed to be put on the page, no matter how strange they were.
Then I graduated. And got really sick. When I was diagnosed months later and medicated, I focused on finding a full-time job. Finally, after working for two years with a non-profit, where I used all of my creative energy on ideas for my job, I found a new job that required a little less of that creative energy. I job that I thought would give me time to relax at night and allow me to write, stress free.
Now I find that whenever I sit down at my laptop or pull out a journal, I'm stricken with terror. It's always the same, irrational fear: The words won't be there, and I'll write a story that only uses the verb "to be" and has too many adverbs. I have reached a new place in my life as a writer that I've never experienced before. I am afraid to write anything. This very blog post stresses me out as I type each and every letter. Why is that? Why is something that I've been doing since I was in second grade (with a very interesting picture book about a girl whose house is destroyed by a tornado -- yes, even then my stories were dramatic and slightly unsettling) suddenly become a chore? Comparable to making my bed or putting away the laundry? I keep putting it off, making plans, and then breaking them. Each month it seems I make a new commitment to "start writing again," but when I stay up late (prime time for my creative juices), I just end up doing what I normally do on my laptop -- wasting time in the void that is the internet.
Some might say what I have is writer's block. This may be true. The fear has certainly driven away any hope of a decent story idea. That conversation with my friend from long ago bubbles back to the surface. But what disturbs me is that my writer's block has never frightened me this way before ("You haven't read enough Austen!...What do you mean you aren't sure if this sentence calls for a semicolon!?...How could you not know what that word means?!" my subconscious seems to say).
At this point, readers, I can feel all of the eye-rolls from here ("Ugh, will she stop complaining already?") The truth is this: I am only going to get better with putting time into my craft again with study, reading, and most importantly, writing. Writing ANYTHING. Writing through all of the hopeless crud that would make all of my senior seminar classmates, as well as my professor, cringe. And they would all tell me the same thing: It doesn't matter! You just have to keep writing! So, thanks. You're all still in my head, even four years later.
I also realized that it's ok to let go of some story ideas. That all of those ideas that poured out of me in middle school were not necessarily important to keep. If I can't remember them, they probably weren't worth it anyway.
In conclusion, I'm formally inviting you all to join me on this journey as I sit and, hopefully, write.
I apologize for my absence from posting. Not that I have a lot of clamoring fans for my blog, but it is good for me to write often, and so I plan to remedy this. I have more adventures to share. Let's start with today.
After being ill for two weeks, I was finally feeling great this weekend. I went to a fantastic a cappella concert and visited a college for my job on Monday. My voice started to sound like mine again, and I was excited to really throw myself back in to my work with a healthy self. On Tuesday, I felt a little off, but after a quick temperature check and a hot shower, I felt fine. I worked and worked, but throughout the day, I started to fade. During lunch I had a lot of trouble swallowing my food. I joked around with some people at work saying I thought I was having a "relapse." I should not have jinxed it.
By the end of the day, my head was buzzing. I even got lightheaded at one point. So, I made sure to stop by the drug store on the way home to pick up some generic medicine of a certain daytime and nighttime variety. By six o'clock I had a 101 temperature, and I decided it would be best for everyone if I stayed home from work the next day. I hoped that with a good nights sleep and some medication, that I would start to be on the mend.
Today, I woke up early with my throat calling the shots. It prodded and seethed. It swelled and sent invisible daggers in to my neck when I swallowed. I finally got up and took another generic nighttime dose, and tried to get a few more hours of sleep. By late morning, I knew I needed to find a doctor. I do not have one established where I'm currently living, so I decided to try and see if a doctor would actually see me today. After reading several reviews on doctors in the area, I felt like I had found one I liked. But when I called, the woman said I wouldn't be able to be seen today and recommended a walk-in clinic in the area. That's fine. I understand that there are only so many slots opened during the day and only so many doctors, but it still is a little unsettling that a person cannot see a family practice doctor in the same day. Must we crowd the hospitals and walk-in clinics? Is this a sign of things to come? However, I will leave my rants for another time. Another doctor's office that was recommended to me is not taking new patients, even though it had listed it was on my medical insurance's providers directory. Great. So I decided to go with the walk-in clinic.
I found the office next to a coffee and donut place with a drive through. You can only go one way around this complex, and the way that I needed to go was blocked by a car sitting in the drive through and a large semi-truck unloading boxes. To make matters worse, after the person in the drive through received whatever was ordered, that person sat there for another four minutes. Finally, I made it to a parking space and proceeded to wait for about forty-five minutes to be seen.
Luckily, the PA I saw was very thorough and understanding. We just can't figure out what's wrong with me. Strep and flu tests came back negative, so she wanted to get some blood work done to make sure there wasn't a worse infection looming in my body. I am afflicted with auto-immune diseases, so one can never be too careful.
At this point, I was in need of another dose of medication, but didn't bring it with me to the doctor's office. My temperature was back up to 100.5, and I was just out of it. I had to wait a little to get the blood work done, and I almost fell asleep all snuggled inside the winter coat I wore to the doctor's office. I was taken back to a room where they will have two patients at a time getting blood drawn. Now, I've had to get blood drawn often in my life. I get blood work done every three months right now because of medication that I'm on. I don't have a problem with needles, and I don't have a problem with blood. We got through the first three vials of blood, and then, the woman brought out the blood culture. I thought I had certainly had a blood culture in my life, but no, apparently not. For the blood culture a glass bottle that looks somewhat like a tabasco bottle is used as the vile and a strange concoction of fluid and bits of stuff float inside. It basically looked like a salad dressing that desperately needed to be shaken. Then the bottle is hooked up to the tube that creates a vacuum to draw the blood out from my vein to the needle. So here we go: small veins, an awkward bottle shape, and a need for a large amount of blood to get in to the bottle. All of the sudden, I see the needle just slip out of my arm because the woman couldn't maneuver the bottle in to a good position. They wipe up the blood that spilt on my arm and have to scratch that blood culture. I realize then that she is going to have to go in to the same arm, again.
Yep, that's it. Wouldn't want to dip my bread in that.
She searches slowly with the needle for a new site, pulling and pushing very slowly so as not to cause a lot of pain. It still was painful, and after a while, I just started to lose it. I was tired, achey, and frustrated that my small veins wouldn't yield any blood so that I could just get this over with. And to top it off, another patient was in the room watching my little breakdown. Great. "I'm fine!" I wanted to shout. But my throat hurt too much and I was too tired. I had to get through it. Then I realized they needed to do a blood culture in my other arm.
Thankfully, this went a little faster, and the needle did not slip out of my arm. But the women helping me (yes, another woman had to be called in) were worried and brought me some apple juice. Which was probably for the best since I had just given a lot of blood and needed to drive myself home. I really did feel ridiculous, and even writing about it now, I'm thinking, no one cares! Get over it! And I will. But when you are still wallowing in your own illness, it's hard to let these things go. I question my ability to live on my own. It is awful to be sick by yourself. There's no one to run to the store for you, or cook something for you, run a bath, wash dishes, making sure you're taking your medicine at regular intervals, nothing. And it's not that I can't do that. I'm doing it. I just had a moment today where I thought I couldn't. I thought, I can't make it today by myself, and I'll just drive all the way to my parents home. But I didn't. I stuck it out, and after a few moments of questioning my personal life, my ability to do a good job at work, and the ability for my immune system to ward off anything that comes my way, I'm taking a step back. And a deep breath.
I'm still waiting for my results, and I still feel awful, and I won't be able to go to work tomorrow. But I'm relaxed, for now, and I'm accepting that at this point, there is nothing else I can do. Absolutely nothing. Unless I can figure out how to get rid of the gnats that have chosen to inhabit my apartment. I will save that for another day. Sure, maybe I doubt what I'm doing, how effective I am, and if I'm capable of living on my own, but, everyone does that. You don't actually ever feel like an adult. You just have to do adult things.
All in all, being sick, and I mean all out, can't get up, aches and chills sick, sucks. Stay healthy everyone.
As I catch up on some television shows online, I realize that many shows seem to go unnoticed by the general masses. We are all blinded by shows like Glee, Mad Men, and various reality TV shows. This is not to say that all of these shows are awful. All in all, they are very entertaining, to say the least. But I feel that many people bemoan the state of television shows today; the writing is just not good anymore, and that few shows can live up to great television standards. Or maybe I'm just imagining this negative climate. Either way, I wanted to point out some great shows that I think a lot of people miss either because they think it's not anything they could possibly like, or, as could be more likely, the people in charge of doing the promos just aren't catching the attention of new audience members.
1. Castle
I am happy to say that Castle has slowly but surely gained a wide viewing audience, and has recently, according to various internet posts, been renewed for a fourth season. After it's experimental "first season" which only consisted of ten episodes (what a rip-off!) Castle was in danger of not returning after so short a run. Luckily, the fans were able to put enough support behind the show, and now we have enjoyed almost three seasons.
For those of you that have not seen Castle, here is a a brief synopsis: The best-selling mystery novelist Richard Castle (Nathan Fillion) had hit the proverbial writer's block with his hit book series, and kills off the main character. While he struggles to find inspiration for his writing, someone else copies Castle's fictional murders with real life murders. Kate Beckett (Stana Katic), an NYPD homicide detective, is put on the case, and immediately recognizes the murder scene as a scene right out of one of Castle's book, since she is a closet fanatic of his series. She brings him in as suspect, and at their meeting, the murder-mystery sparks fly. Castle has found his new muse, and because Castle's influential friends never seem to cease, the mayor allows him to follow her on all of her cases (for research, of course) for his new series about a tough female NYPD homicide detective named Nikki Heat. The writing in this series is witty and fast. The tone of the show can slide from funny and basically slapstick to extremely serious and heartbreaking. The writers are able to balance all of these elements, along with the complicated and ever-changing relationship of Castle and Beckett. So basically, it's a comedy, murder mystery, and sexual tension. What more could you want? Not to mention that great talent in the show. Comedy is not easy, and each cast member has such great comedic timing.
Another great and unique feature to this show is that the Nikki Heat series is also an actual book, written by Rick Castle, and available for purchase at all of the major book vendors. Nathan Fillion, who plays Castle, will usually do some book signings as Castle. The fictional world spills over into our world to keep the audience hooked and connected to the universe even outside of the television series. To be honest, the writing in the book is not the best, but for the fans, there are many references that make the book worth the read.
My one qualm with the show is that it is on so late. Castle airs on ABC on Mondays at 10 p.m. I love that it is on Mondays, since it gives a person something to look forward to at the start of the week, but it is on so late. With a job that requires me to be there at seven every morning, I now need to wait until I get home from work on Tuesday to watch the previous night's episode. Thankfully, ABC puts the new episodes online the very next day. So tune in on Monday, set your tivo, or curl up with your computer to watch Castle.
2. Lie to Me
I, admittedly, do not watch this show nearly enough. Whenever I can, I try to catch up. Lie to Me is well-written, well acted, and is overall an exciting and fresh show. The whole premise had me from the start - discerning the truth from non-verbal indicators. Often in the show, after a character makes a certain face, whether it is from guilt, anger, contempt, etc., the show will then have a picture of a famous person making the same face so that the audience is clued in to what emotion is actually being conveyed. Brilliant.
The acting is also brilliant. Tim Roth leads a great cast as Cal Lightman, the head of the Lightman group and an expert in all of this. His character is brash and persistent, yet completely likable. This character is a great example of a complex and full character. Kelli Williams plays Gillian Foster, a colleague at the Lightman group, is also a great balance for Cal, with a softer approach. I don't even want to try to explain this show any longer. Go to Fox's website now and watch an episode. While it would be great to go in order and see the character development from the beginning, you don't need to do that. Any episode could be a stand alone with it's strong script and powerful performances. You can also watch this season's finale on Fox this Monday at 9 p.m. Definitely watch this show. Rumor has it that the show may be in danger of cancellation.
3. Sherlock
I must say, hands down, this is the best show of the past year. With each episode coming in at about an hour and twenty minutes, the season is more like a collection of three movies. If you have not seen this show, find a link online, check to see if masterpiece theatre has them up, or just buy the DVD. These episodes should be seen in order to get the wonderful character arcs. The writing and acting are the best of the best. I cannot say enough about how much I love this show. I cannot wait for the next season.
Sherlock is a modern day retelling of the famous Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The first episode is titled, "A Study in Pink," which is a direct reference to the first novel involving Sherlock Holmes, A Study in Scarlet. The writers do a great job of including many elements from the original novels while still making the story contemporary and accessible. And even though this is a modern version of Sherlock Holmes, it is the most accurate portrayal of the illustrious detective that I have every seen. A fun update that still bring the original story is Dr. John Watson's blog. In this internet driven age, John now details his adventures with Sherlock on his blog, which is just perfect. It also is strange how many of the original elements mirror today, such as John's military service in Afghanistan. My how history repeats itself.
The actors are also perfect. Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes is expert casting. Finally, we get to see Sherlock start out as a younger man, not the well known detective settling into middle age. Martin Freeman plays Dr. John Watson, and couldn't be a better foil to Sherlock's sociopath ways. The development of their relationship is wonderful to watch on screen, with intelligent dialogue, surprisingly funny as well as poignant scenes, and of course, exciting mysteries. And, without revealing too much, the show introduces Sherlock's nemesis, Professor Moriarity, who is deliciously frightening and evil. Do yourself a favor and watch this series. It revitalizes Sherlock in a way that any movie or series has yet to do, showing him in all of his flawed and human glory.
4. Supernatural
Great show. Great writing. Epic. It combines mythologies from all across the world to make the best show about the supernatural out there. Although it has been on for a while, I still think more people should watch this show. The scripts are fun and smart, as well as dark and oftentimes scary (especially if watch them alone in the dark). So while one moment you jump, the next moment you could be laughing, or even crying. Not to mention the great soundtrack, usually consisting of some great seventies and eighties rock songs. "Carry on my Wayward Son," holds a dear place in my heart now. The show also takes what you think you know about religion, mythology, and the supernatural, and adds it's on twist to it. Every show just keeps upping the ante. Each new episode keeps me coming back for more. Also, the actors on this show are extremely underrated. Jared Padelecki and Jensen Ackles are amazing actors, who must take extremely fantastical plots and keep them grounded and serious, while also balancing a good dose of humor. These boys are more than just pretty faces. All of the supporting roles are so fantastic, too, with Jim Beaver and Misha Collins. Ah! So great! And while at the beginning of this sixth season I was extremely skeptical of where they were taking these characters, I now know that the strange character change in one character was on purpose and part of the plot. I apologize for doubting the writers. It just left me uncomfortable and confused, which I'm seeing was the point. Make sure to watch this show Friday on the CW at 9 p.m.
A few shows are not on here, and I did want to speak to that. Many of my friends know I am a huge Bones fan. I love the characters, the fun of the show, and the strange and ridiculous murders. The show has confused me this season, with it's extreme polarization of the main characters. While they may be back together as partners, their relationship has never been so strained. No longer do they banter. They aren't even very friendly towards each other. I know, I know, I hear everyone saying, they are testing the relationship! They are finding knew boundaries, they need to change things, take it in a new direction! Or whatever people are saying. And my least favorite excuse of all time for any series that is holding out on me: They can't get together or that will end the show! Let me say a few words on this right now. If a show ends because two characters get together, that means that the writers are not very good writers, or that the fans are not really fans of the show. People can be together and still have witty dialogue and sexual tension. Yes it will be different, but wouldn't that be so much fun to explore? And to the fans, you were only fans of the ship then, not the show. But I hear all of you now: But that's the whole point of the show, is their relationship and the "will they or won't they" question. A relationship is more than just are they together or not. Come on people. So Bones, please figure out your stuff. I know you are trying something with the Hanna, but it's just not working. I've read the interviews, and you say what you are trying to accomplish with the scenes, but most of the time, that's not what's coming across. And as much as you blather about what the scene is supposed to be doing, if the audience doesn't get it, then it's not working. You learn that in workshop. So don't try to BS me. We are smart people; don't act like we're just not seeing it.
So those are my recommendations. Go check them out. And if you have time for some of my guilty pleasures, I would highly recommend them as well: Vampire Diaries - where vampires actually kill people and drink blood, they still can be sexy, and every episode leaves you saying, "I can't believe that just happened!" Love it. Paranormal State - A paranormal research society founded at Penn State. While some episodes lack the evidence that will make people believe, other episodes may include a full on exorcism. An important note to remember is that this show does not set out to prove anything, it's goal is simply to help the family on each episode.
The blinking cursor gives me a restless feeling. It breathes, moves, beckons, and begs me to make it move across the page with a single letter, then an entire word, and soon a full sentence. My fingers twitch above the keyboard, wishing, hoping for an idea, a thought, a moment that will cascade into an amazing and beautiful image. It could be beautiful. It could be amazing. But the restless feeling eats away at me. It flutters around and knocks against my skin. Write something. Say something. It must be profound. It must be the most amazing thing that has ever been written. So I pause. I stare at a blank page, at a blinking cursor. I realize that I have nothing profound to say. I have nothing new or original to offer. I will never write anything ever again.
But the possibilities of a blank page and a blinking cursor tempt me. The words you can pour over an empty space, the world you can create just by placing one letter in front of another, pulls me back every time. Maybe this time I can do it. Maybe this time it will be amazing. Blood-red leaves will blow across the page, ripped from the trees on a brisk autumn day. A freckled girl will emerge from the line of trees and tramp through the knee high piles of leaves. She will wade through the bleeding foliage. The sun will blind her, and for a moment she will be unable to see, a single hand raised to block out the light. Across the open field, tall with grain ready to be harvested, a single figure will stand, dark, as if the figure were merely a cut out from the scenery, a void. The freckled girl will freeze in the red sea. Her breathing will increase, shallow breaths struggling to remain hidden under her dress. She will not give herself away. Then her worst fear will be realized. The cutout figure will turn it's absent head and stare at her. Then she will turn. She will run.
These images do not come, the words do not pour out from me. I am still afraid of not being able to write a single original thought. And then suddenly I remember. My unceasing march of self-defeating thoughts tumble and fall into the break that cracks into my mind. Everything has already been written. Everything has been said. All I can do is bring my perspective to it. That's all that any of us can do. So I go back to the flaming leaves and the freckled girl racing through the forest. She clambers over rocks, up the side of a hill, and ends at the edge of a cliff. The valley below puts a pit in the bottom of her stomach, as if she has no control over her legs and the sprawling valley is the reason. She imagines jumping and how the that pit in her stomach would wash through her entire body, and her breath would never come back into her lungs. She shuts her eyes and backs away. Then there is silence, as if someone has cupped his hands around her ears. She slowly looks back toward the forest and sees the void of a figure, pulling in the light and noises of life.
Down below in the valley, people look up, straight up into the sky. A scream alights on the high autumn air.
Sometimes loneliness is intoxicating, in a totally terrifying, lost all control, got-black-out-and-don't-know-where-I-am kind of way. The room is warm, a lamp is on, and the TV fills the space with noise, but still, it's not enough. There would not be enough noise and light to shove into the gaping, festering hole that grows and spreads. Soon the hole will spread so far that there will be nothing left of me. My body will collapse in on itself as if a curvature singularity had formed in the center of my body. I would take out the room. I would take out my entire building, the city, and eventually the universe. The entire universe would be consumed with my loneliness. And then nothing. Nothing would wait for something, because as a philosophy class once argued, "Something comes from nothing."
Then I wake up, and it is today, because it is always today and never tomorrow. And the hole is smaller, more manageable. I hide it under my clothes. I carry it to work, try to stuff papers and my typing into it; I try out different pieces to heal it: maybe a good deed will do it, or maybe a finished project. Something must be able to replace the spreading lack. But nothing works. It is still there. And I find it so strange how alone someone can feel surrounded by people. Aren't people the cure for loneliness? Isn't communication between living beings the stitch that sews the fabric of companionship back together?
Apparently not. Apparently the human spirit does not take imitation in place of the real thing. So while the hole in my side is at least the size of my hand, since I can fit my hand in my right side comfortably, I wait for the rest of me to reappear. I read. I watch movies. I unabashedly lurk on the internet. And I sleep. I am waiting, always waiting. My missing piece is out there, taken away without my permission. Please bring it back. Bring it back soon.
For those of you that know what I mean, here is a lovely video that helps.
Don't let loneliness consume you. There is help out there.
I wish I could consider myself an adventurous and thrill-seeking person, but sadly, the most adventure I usual experience is through the strange stories that I write. Here in the "real world" I usually don't take too many risks, as I've found that I have the worst luck of almost anyone that I know. That isn't to say that I'm some bump on a log. I do go out and socialize, I enjoy life, and love to try new things. But I wouldn't call most of my outings "adventures." So adventure came to find me, if you can call it that (I would call it bad luck). Although When you're on your own for the first time, there isn't really a way to avoid these adventures.
I picked my boyfriend up after his last final on our way home so that we could see a lovely holiday performance that night. We were on the highway, and since he had pulled an all-nighter before his last final, he began to drift off. I was humming along (or probably full out singing) with whatever was playing, and making great time. Suddenly, I heard and felt something weird on the left side of my car. It was almost like gravel had blown out of the side of my car. And I knew instantly but didn't want to admit it. Out loud I said: "Did my back tire just blow out?" I kept shaking my head and then tried to get over. My back left tire had blown out while I was in the passing lane. So of course, the person behind got so close to me when I slowed down. They were right on top of me and I was trying to get over. People are so impatient today that it's scary. This is why accidents happen.
Thankfully I made it to the side of the highway. By this time my boyfriend was awake, and he sprang into action. We had to find the spare tire in my tiny, low to the ground car. We emptied the trunk and he found the tire underneath it. The cars whizzed by us, and while we determined that yes, my tire had indeed blown out, my boyfriend wasn't comfortable changing the tire on the side of the highway. I agreed.
Probably to the annoyance of every driver on the highway, we got back in the car, and I put my four ways on as I slowly crawled to the next exit. We ended up in a store parking lot and we (my boyfriend) set to work. I sighed. "I'm so glad that you're here because I've never changed a tire."
"Darling," he said, "neither have I."
I called both of our parents to let them know what was going on and that we would be a little late now. His mother recommended that we call AAA, but I told her he wanted to try it himself. She did not give him much vote of confidence. But he continued to do it and got the jack in and was trying to work the bolts off but was having some trouble. Suddenly, a man seemed to appear out of nowhere and said, "I see you're having some trouble."
We both were stunned, as usually in this area you do not find such helpful people. He came over and basically loosened all of the bolts with one good twist each. To give my wonderful boyfriend credit, he could have loosened them but wasn't sure of how much pressure to apply and didn't want to break anything. My car is small and he is used to driving a mini van. After that, the man left us to the work and my boyfriend changed the tire! I took it for a spin around the parking lot and everything seemed fine. The only drawback: I couldn't drive above 50 mph with the tire. And I still had almost another hour to drive on the highway. People were not going to be happy with me.
So I drove as often as I could in the right line, keeping it just under 50. A point came where some construction had things down to one lane, so I backed up traffic for that stretch of five miles. We were very lucky though, and thank goodness, truly that my boyfriend was there. He said, "I was just pretending that I knew what I was doing so that you wouldn't freak out." His calmness did keep my calm, and this is why he is amazing.
"We had a grown up experience!" I exclaimed on the way home. Although that is one adventure that I hope not to have to repeat very often. With my condition that I have, even if I did know how to change a tire (which, now that I've watched it, I can see that it isn't too complicated) I would physically be able to do that. My joints wouldn't allow that. So thank goodness for boyfriends and helpful people!
This closely resembles the cockroach that I saw. Fun, huh?
I have neighbors above and below me, so I stifled a small scream and shut the water off. For a brief moment I panicked. What would I do? I needed to get ready. I'd have to kill it. My shoes were off in my room, and the cockroach, at least an inch and half long if not two inches, was scrambling to free itself from the clutches of the bathtub. I do not like bugs. Most people I suppose do not (although there are always exception), but it was just too early and I was too tired to want to deal with this.
I grabbed a cleaner that was in the bathtub and told myself I just had to do it. I had to kill it. The cockroach seemed to know I was approaching, as it scrambled more intensely. I jabbed at it with the cleaner and crunch it into the bathtub. There was a smear of legs and a smushed body. But now I had to actually take a shower in there. What if there were more? I shoved the shower curtain back and poised for any movement. Nothing happened. I realized then I would have to clean up the carcass in the shower so that I could actually take a shower and get ready. I balled toilet paper up and tried to clean it up as quickly as possible. Then I convinced myself that nothing else would come out of my bathtub.
Immediately I begin to believe it's my fault that cockroaches are infiltrating my second floor apartment. They were targeting me because I just don't keep things clean enough, I don't do enough, blah blah blah. All day it was running in my head. So I knew I needed to call my landlord and make a trip to Wally world before I got home. My sister was coming up that day too to help me back and go home, so I wanted things to be comfortable for her. She had never stayed over in my apartment, and of course, the day she was coming to see me, a large black roach had appeared in my bathroom.
At least, as many people have said, I haven't seen one in my kitchen. That would be the worst. So I went out and got spray and found that the only baits were for the small roaches. I did buy the baits, thinking they would work, but when I opened them and saw the tiny openings, I thought, no, there is no way what I saw could ever fit in these tiny holes. So I just made sure to spray around my bathroom and I called my landlord, who did not give me a definitive answer about what would happen. I said on the phone, "I just don't want them to have a party in here while I'm gone." So I will have to let you know what I will find when I flip my lights on the night I return.
Jennifer the commoner continues her adventures in mediocrity one day at a time!
