5th of November: There's two types of people in the world, those who finish their sentences and those who

I think I'll do another list, since I don't have much to say about any one topic just yet.

1.  I feel like I've got a hangover.  But I don't, it just feels like it.  My eyes hurt.

Last night, a bunch of crap happened.  I don't even feel like explaining it.  My cousin came over, talked and talked and talked.  He went home, the family went out to find some house that the Cleaning Nazi wants to buy.  It was really dark, but we found it anyway.  Went home, had dinner. Got a text message, and my friend came and picked me up.  We went and picked up another friend who just finished work.  We bought her dinner, then went back to her house (God I hate going to people's houses).  We watched TV until 1am or so.  The entire time I was dropping hints about how it's getting late, and we better go to bed etc.  She (the one with the car/my way home) wasn't getting it.  So I waited and waited and waited.  Then I went home and died.  

Today, I feel like I had a pretty wild night out, when I didn't. 

2.  I know what my second point is, and I can't think of how to start it.  So, I'll start it as far back as I possibly can.  I know that I've expressed my feelings about visitors in my home, and in my bedroom, onto this blog.  I think it's probably the first three or so posts.  But I don't like visitors.  My home is a physical manifestation of my mind, personality etc.  I don't want people looking at it.  People being in my room is even more personal, because it's made up entirely of items that I used my own hard earned money to buy.  Everything in there is a small piece of me, that makes up my identity.  Unfortunately, the BF understands this as well, even if I haven't discussed my own views on it.  Only yesterday, he said "I like looking at people's book collections, it tells me a lot about them".  Well,  you're a bit too late, aren't you.  About a day before he came to my house for the first time, I went on a massive "spontaneous" clean-up of my room.  Everything but my uni books went into the garage, in those sealed plastic containers.  I had to do it anyway, because I had no space on my bookshelf for uni stuff, but I also did it because I don't want him to judge me. I know people probably think that it shouldn't matter, and his opinion of me shouldn't change, because my possessions ARE a reflection of who I am.  I'd just rather that he base his opinion of me on what I do, and how I act, rather than what books are on my shelf.  

Anyway, my point to that is, after he sort of examined my room again the other day, he made fun of the fact that I'm hooked on the Sims 3. The next day, he sends me a message saying he was having dreams about the Sims, and that he wanted to borrow it.  He says he's bored of it already, but I think he's addicted, which is why I haven't heard from him since I gave it to him.  It's kind of good for him to have it for the next week or so, because it can't distract me now.

 

3.     I sit down to continue this blog post, and a very weird feeling comes over me.  I don’t know why, or what triggered it, but I just felt unsettled.  I decide to move around a bit, try and shake the feeling.  I go into the bathroom, wash my hands, and come back to the computer.  In the corner of my eye, I notice something.  My dog.  Staring intently at me.  I’ve never seen him so focussed in his life.  It was strange.  If bigger dogs stare at you, you can sort of tell if they’re angry or whatever their emotion is, but Butters is too small for that.  I can’t read his facial expressions and body language as much as I’d like to.  There’s videos on Youtube showing dogs “talking” to their owner, and they seem to be obviously upset or happy or whatever.  But, with my dog, he just seems frustrated.  When the boyfriend came over, we were outside and I was holding Butters.  We were talking about my boyfriend’s dog, and other dogs that talk and do tricks and stuff.  Then Butters starts going on the dog equivalent of a rant.  He won’t be quiet. And he sounds like a gremlin.  And kind of looks like one, which doesn’t help. He went on and on and on, and I felt bad because I didn’t know what he was saying.  Maybe he was just joining in on our conversation, because he didn’t seem to be very emotional.

I have Butters on my lap right now as I type.  He rests his head in the crook of my elbow, and just looks sad.  I don’t actually think he IS sad, I think it’s just his face.  It’s all innocent and wide-eyed and when I try to get a reaction out of him, he licks me on the arm.  He seems pretty intent on staring at the washing basket though.  I wonder why?

I find Chihuahuas to be a very interesting breed.  Even though people say they’re dumb, or useless rats, they really aren’t.  They seem to have far more personality than any other dog breed I’ve encountered.  They’re the smallest breed of dog, and I was told once that they would be the considered the most vicious breed, if they had any size to them.  I could believe that.  You’ve probably never seen it, but a Chihuahua has a very specific way of dealing with threats. Kind of like in this video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKGPvul8FXc&feature=related

They scrunch up their face, show all of their teeth, and have their tongue out.  It sounds and looks ridiculous, but I’ve seen it in action and it works.  I took Butters to puppy school when he was about 3 month old I think.  He was the oldest dog there, but half the size of the smallest one.  They had like 10 minutes at the start where they could all play together and get used to each other.  Being the smallest, they all ganged up on him, and he got really scared at the start.  I was told to put him in a playpen until he calmed down.  When he realised they were just playing, we let him out again, and he started doing the attack thing I was talking about whenever the bigger ones got too rough.  They got the hint, and the bigger ones left him alone, and the little ones played nicely.  Then a new guy came, with his French bulldog called John.  Of course, John went around, scaring the crap out of every dog there in turn.  He got to Butters, and he did his little growly thing.  John promptly rolled over, showing submission.  Everyone thought, “oh good, the little one isn’t going to be eaten”.  Then, Butters surprises everyone and starts humping John.  As you can imagine, I was mortified.  It got worse, when by the end of the night, he had humped EVERY DOG THERE!



4.  Every now and then, I go and have a look at the NaNoWriMo forums.  As much as I'd like to take part, I'm not doing the real challenge, I'm just doing the word count.  I find it really weird how motivated people are on these forums.  There's all the different genres of writing that people can talk about, there's a board for the overachievers, the people who need ideas, people who want to ask questions, it actually seems like a really good, supportive forum of like-minded people.  

Right now, I'm looking at the overachievers' forum.  It's all these people talking about how they did 75k last year, so they're going for 100k, or they did 200k last year, and they want to do that again this year.  It's a bit scary how much these people can write.  There's also people aiming for 50k in 2 weeks, which they are well on their way to doing.  Each forum post has the person's word count next to the name, and most of them are 25,000 words or above.  Now, Morgan, Dani-Q and I are all struggling a bit.   Or I know Danique is, I'm not sure about Morgan, but she seems to be questioning the very fabric of our existence, so I think she's going a bit loopy with all these words we try to do.

I've lost track of the numbers, and I don't know if this counts as a new number, or a continuation of the last one.  Whilst trying to spell "continuation", I completely forgot what I was going to say.  So I'll keep going.





5.   I hate my neighbours.  So much.  This will probably come off as a bit racist, but it's not intentional.  I don't hate my neighbours BECAUSE they're Indian, I just happen to hate them, and coincidentally, they are Indian.  I hate them because they have about 3 million kids.  Or maybe one VERY loud one.  I don't know, but there's at least one kid, making more than enough noise for many kids.  And it's constantly screaming about something.  I don't know what exactly, because it's screaming in Indian.  The father also has a strange fondness for power tools.  So I find it a bit suspicious when there's children screaming at the top of their lungs, then the father starts screaming in Indian, and then a power saw starts up, and there's more screaming.  At this very moment, the father is starting up a chainsaw.  Any minute now, the kid will start screaming.............. There we go.


6.  Just out of curiousity, I just tried out something called Write or Die.  The results were strange.  Here they are below.

I'm trying out this thing I've heard about called Write or Die.  It should be interesting if it works.  I think  the idea is that you set some word goals, for example, I have set a goal of 500 words right now to test it out.  You set the goal, then a time limit.  And how strict you want it to be.  I'm on the hardest setting right now.  Fuck, I'm worried.  I don't actually know what's going to happen in 8 minutes, since it's been 2 minutes already.  I think its an alarm or something.  Either way, I'm trying to type so god damned fast that I'm spelling everything wrong because my brain moves faster than my fingers.   AAAAAAAH 7 minutes!  What do I write about? 

Holy shit.  I stoped typing for like 20 seconds and shit started flashing red.  Doesn't look very fun, but I suppose it will work.  It's not giving me any inspiration though.  I'm just typing and typing, and nothing is coming to mind.  Fuck fuck fuck.  What was my word goal again?  500?  I don't remember.  I'll tell you about my love of energy drinks, to make me talk about SOMTHING

I drink lots of energy drinks.  I love them.  But I only drink certain ones.  Like Monster, the green and yellow ones.  Not the low-carb bullshit.  That's crap.  I tried Mother or whatever its called, and that tastes disgusting, I hate it.  Escpeicaly the orange one.  It makes me sick.  Once I had 2 within about an hour of eachother, and I was all over the place.  I actually took the dog for a run, that was several kms long. It was weird, consideing fat people usually dont like to run.  But I ran with my dog, and i couldnt stop smiling the whole time.  i wasnt really happy, i just smiled, and my face hurt, it wasnt too fum.  I have like 2 minutes left, and 150 words.  think i can do it?  I dont.,

Anyway.  I only drink monster.,  havent tried rockstar, but i think i might.  apparently it tastes better than monster, but the person who said that is probably lying.  theyre supposed to be bad for your teeth, and my teeth are gjhbjk siodjfo o xalready shit as it is.  theyre gross and i dont like them.  i need braces, because theyre gross as .  5 seconds hoigrnw;og r sfjco;eq ewfcojcoper;j copjodv pogvjopskjrp.




Now, that probably didn't make much sense.  You set a word goal, in my case 500 words, then you set a time limit, which for me was 10 minutes.  Then you type as much as you possibly can before the time is up.  I had heard about this, last time I tried to do NaNoWriMo last year, but I never got around to using it.  I needed some motivation for today's post, and I come out with a garbled mess.  Don't worry, I don't normally type like that.  I was in a rush, and hitting the backspace button took up my precious seconds.  So rather than editing, I just started the word again.    When I stopped to think for a little while, the screen started flashing red.  I panicked, and kept typing, even if it was crap.  


http://writeordie.drwicked.com/


This is the website here.  Ignore the crap on the front, the important part is on the right hand side.




My fingers are tingling now.  Weird.


You know, I'm completely awake now, and my eyes don't hurt any more.  


I'm going to take a break, then start a new blog post, this time with a topic.