I SAW A UFO.

I SAW A UFO.

I was driving home from work tonight when I saw a bright white light to the left of the street.  At first I misjudged the distance from the light to myself and thought maybe one of the houses in there had some weird floodlight I’d never noticed before, or something to that effect; then I realized that the light was in the sky.

I knew the position of the light was too strange for it to be the moon, although it was about that bright, so I thought, …Airplane?

It wasn’t an airplane, though; when I was able to look more closely at it, I saw between the blue, red, and white lights that the vehicle was actually triangular.  My first thought was, “That kind of looks like an Imperial Cruiser….”  No, I’m not delusional.  I didn’t think it was an Imperial Cruiser; it just looked like one.

It was really big and really low, and seemed to just be hovering there.  Then it flew out of sight, and back into sight again, and when I turned left on the next street, the ship started flying in that direction, very slowly.  It flew across that street, and continued flying about parallel to ours.

When I turned right on our street, I could just see it over Publix, and that was my final glimpse of it.

I immediately went inside and said, “I saw a UFO.”

“Really?” Dad said.

“Yeah–it looked like an Imperial Cruiser.”

“Was it triangular?”

“Yes.  Want to see it?”

He did, so he ran to get shoes, and my mom called, “If you get abducted, try to contact home somehow!”

“It’s okay, I’ve got my cell phone,” I said, as we dashed out the door.

The craft was, of course, gone that time around.

After we returned home, I went to stand outside in the driveway and called The Mormon, who did not immediately answer, so I left him the following message:

“I saw a UFO.  And I’m not even kidding.  Call me back for details.”

So…there’s that.  I’m betting it was a stealth drone, since there is a base just a few miles away.  So that’s pretty cool!

In other news, Spidermonkey has apparently broken up with Psychobrat, who, presumably, will be returning home at any moment–she’d been planning to spend the week at his house.  I do feel kind of bad for her, despite how evil she is.

Nicole may have found someone to take the dog…finally.  We’ll see what happens with that.

Here’s something funny:  The other night, The Mormon told me he’d been flipping through stations and Seinfeld was on, so he’d stopped to watch it.

“Kramer was there, and…I think Jerry’s father?…Jerry Stiller….” he said.

“That’s George’s dad,” I said.  “Were they selling raincoats?”

“As a matter of fact, they were.”

“And they were all mothy?”

“Yeah–they opened the box, and a moth flew out.”

“I’m quite proud of the fact that I was able to get that from ‘Kramer and Jerry Stiller’.”

“I’m very impressed, babe.”

I wrote three pages of my new book today!  It’s moving right along.  And I made this for you guys:
Spensers Aesthetic

Just a little peek inside my mind!  I’m planning to hit up the used bookstore one day very soon to grab some research materials.

 

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Psychobrat, the $250 Hoop Skirt, and the Video Game

I’ve got some Psychobrat stories for you this morning.

First of all, Psychobrat, who demanded a car out of my parents, finally did get her way, of course.  And of course, she cannot afford to make the payments on it, so my parents are doing that for her.

But Psychobrat, who cannot afford her $150 car payments, also demanded a $250 prom dress from my parents, and got that, as well.  $250 she doesn’t have on a dress she will wear once.  It isn’t even attractive; it greatly resembles a hoop skirt.  (Just to show that I’m not being hypocritical here, my parents did buy me a car, but I have always made all of my own payments on it, and I used my own money to buy myself an $80 prom dress.)

So she’s been swishing around the house in her $250 hoop skirt, and I’ve been snickering behind my hand.

So there’s that.

Then there’s the matter of MarioKart.

When I got back from Cortney’s, I had this serious hankering to play MarioKart, so I went digging out our Nintendo and the few games Brother hadn’t sold and sat down to play it.  Two days later, I was about halfway to beating the game, when Psychobrat informed me that she was taking it to Spidermonkey’s house because they had nothing else to do but play this game.

I informed her that she wasn’t taking it, because I had dug it out of the spot it had been sitting in, unthought of, for the past three years, for me to play it, not her.

As everyone reading this probably knows by now, it doesn’t matter what you say to Psychobrat, because she will always have what she wants.  She walked straight into my room, took it (with plenty of assurances that it would be back that night) and left.

So yesterday, knowing perfectly well that MarioKart would stay at Spidermonkey’s for all eternity, because it now belongs to her and I can’t get to it there, I said, “So where’s MarioKart?”

This was when Psychobrat informed me that, as punishment for my being a bitch, it was still at Spidermonkey’s.

I, trying not to explode, walked into my room to call Katie, because I knew that would calm me down before I blew a fuse.  Katie wasn’t available, so I left her the following voice mail:

“Hello, how are you?  I’m just calling you to bitch, because according to PSYCHOBRAT!!!!!!, that is what I am.”  I paused here, because I was listening to Psychobrat call calmly from the other room, “Are you talking about yourself?”

“So…have a nice day,” I said, and hung up.

I love my sister.

What else has been happening lately?  I’ve spent a lot of time with The Mormon, which has been awesome, of course.  The other day he bought me a little stuffed kangaroo (that’s one of my favorite animals) just because.  How cute is that?  So I named them Stacia and Oswald (the mother and baby respectively) because those were the first two names that popped into my head.

Oh, speaking of The Mormon, I remembered another dream.  It’s kind of stupid, actually.  I dreamed I made him watch this horrible movie from the ’50s (it wasn’t real) that I realized about halfway through I had actually seen before, but we still kept watching it.  I had read this review that made it sound phenomenal, but later realized that the review was actually mine–it was here on my blog.  I had written up this whole phenomenal review of a completely detestable movie, just to see how good I could make it sound using double-talk or something.  It was so well-written, but the only thing I remember about it now is that at one point I used the phrase, “lovably loathsome” to describe a character.

All I really remember about the dream-movie is that it seemed to be about some stupid cop and a bunch of teenagers who kept getting the best of him as he chased them around town.

And I remembered, oddly, the tagline of the film, and wrote it down in the middle of the night so I wouldn’t forget:  “There’s nothing funnier than Lt. Don Chodiedrel.  Except the loads-funnier Sam don’t-remember-his-last-name.”  (The cop’s last name, despite the odd spelling, was pronounced ‘ka-DEE-drul’.)

The things my subconscious gets up to.

In other news…I feel like it’s been forever since I updated here, but that is because I am hard at work on an original novel–the first in a trilogy, in fact.  And yes, my main character is unabashedly based on myself and thus technically a Mary-Sue, but above the level of Bella.  Far…far above.

Anyway, I’ve been making some aesthetics to inspire myself, so here’s your very first hint of what I’m getting up to:Dean Aesthetic 2

Secrets Internalized

A while back I was sharing a short story with you all in serial form about a girl named Astrid.  It ended up being much longer than I expected, but I am pleased to report that it is finally complete and you may read it all for free here!  If you happen to check it out and so desire, there is a button near the bottom of the page that says “Kudos” and I have discovered that guests may use that, so that will bump my views, I believe.  Comments will help even more.  Thank you in advance!

For those who have not already seen the beginning, or do not remember, this is the story of a girl whose parents were casualties of a cruel war when she was a small child.  For her own safety, she keeps this secret from the entire world all her life.  Now, fresh after graduation, she is interning at the largest publication in Britain when she accidentally stumbles onto a terrorist plot.  Seeing an opportunity to get ahead at work, she opts to tread dangerous waters to follow the lead, battling addiction, trouble at work, and an abusive relationship along the way.

It also happens to be set in the Harry Potter universe, if that’s your thing.  Being familiar with the books would undoubtedly increase enjoyment of the story, but I suppose one could pick it up with only a cursory understanding of HP.

Be sure to drop me a line here or there to let me know what you think!

ch1

Annnd…here’s what happened.

I was so incredibly nervous about what might happen when I saw him today that I walked to class shaking.  Corey, as I was talking to him, mistook this for my being cold and moved me into the sun.

Well, as it turned out, he was obviously trying to act like things were normal between us.  He made a valiant effort.  And I still had every intention of making the phone call immediately after class, if he didn’t walk to the car with me.

A couple things about class—I turned in the love poem, which I thought had totally sucked because I suck at poetry, but maybe that’s just me—L’Owen told me he loved it and asked permission to read it aloud next class.  He was also thoroughly amused with the title of the fourteen pages I handed him:  “Stalkers Anonymous”.

The member of our group who was supposed to have sent us his story online to read before today never sent it, so we really had nothing at all to talk about, my other group member and I…except he had the rest of Dean’s story, so he was planning to just join their group.  I, of course, had not seen the rest of the story, and this guy’s sitting there saying, “That guy [Dean] is a genius, seriously.”

I’m like, “I know.”  Stop talking to me about it!

L’Owen told me that if Josh (the other member of our group) did not show up, then I had no reason to stick around, so to give it ten minutes.  Mike was counting down.  Josh showed up when I had, like…one minute to go.  Go figure.  Haha.  So then he and Mike start discussing how brilliant Dean is…meanwhile, I’ve been shamelessly staring at him ever since I first arrived.  At that point, though, his back was to me, so he couldn’t have noticed.

When all was said and done at the end of class, I was talking to L’Owen, and Dean was leaving, and I’m looking up at him—trying to do so inconspicuously—wondering if he’s going to say good-bye, assuming he isn’t, when he turns and looks at me and says, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

I think I beamed.

I went outside, and we talked to the group for a moment or so, and he announced that he was leaving, so I went with him.

Conversation was…well…it was…odd.  Sort of stilted, I guess.

When we got to the parking lot, he said, “Walk to my car with me, I’ve got something for you.”

So he takes out a stack of books that he’d been talking about loaning to me, before I went and turned all stupid, and was saying, “Things between us have been…”

“Awkward,” I finished.  “Yes, I noticed.”

“Yeah…well, I wanted to loan you these as a sort of peace offering.”

So there he was, willing to make peace and at least attempt to bring things back to some level that they were before, even after what I’d told him on the phone.  That was enough for me to see that Sandra was way wrong in her speculations (see previous entry).

“Um…I’ve been thinking,” I said.  “I realized that I’m stupid, and I don’t want to stop seeing you, after all.”  (As I explained to Michelle yesterday, I never looked forward so much to telling somebody I was stupid.)

He smiled, in a sort of I-want-to-believe-you-but-you’d-better-prove-it way and said, “What brought that on?”

“I—I’m not sure,” I stuttered.  “Well, obviously, it was partially due to how weird things had gotten…like yesterday, when you wouldn’t even look at me.”  I watched him carefully, to see if perhaps yesterday was just some sort of fluke, and that hadn’t been intentional.

“Yeah,” he said, and nodded–yes, he had been deliberately ignoring me.  Well, I did deserve it.

“But…yeah.  I changed my mind.  I don’t know what the hell my problem is.”

“I’m afraid I came on too strong the other night.  It was never my intention to make you think…you know, that you’re the only one for me, or…anything like that.  It was true what I said; I’ve never really felt this way for someone before, and I wanted to tell you that, and at least give it a shot.  It could last a day, it could last a week, who knows?  But at least we’d have tried.  I didn’t mean to spook you.  We just need to take things very slowly.”

I, of course, agreed.  Then I told him about Katie’s response to witnessing our exchange, or lack thereof, yesterday.

“I just didn’t know what to do, really,” he said.  “I mean, I was hurting, for one thing, and then I didn’t know what to say to you at all, and…well, I felt really wrong about it, so I wanted to try and make up.”

Then I had to go to work, and he stood back, even though he was giving me that same look that I always assumed meant he wanted to kiss me.  He wasn’t going to do anything.  That’s certainly respectful.  So I put my arms around him and kissed him instead.  Then I told him I’d call him after work and walked happily back to my car.

So…yeah.  We fixed things.

Today was a good day.

Tirade of the Day

Obviously, I do like him.

This fact occurred to me (too late, of course) sometime after I told him that I didn’t want to commit to anything, and that it was up to him if we kept seeing each other because I didn’t want to lead him on.

I keep thinking up odd stuff that I forgot to put in earlier entries; yesterday in class, for example, I was sick, and we had this whole-class peer review thing, of three pages of one of Dean’s short stories, in fact, and then a poem another girl wrote.

Well, as I was quite ill physically, at least, and a little strung out emotionally, I just…sat there, with my head down on the desk.  I was listening…sort of.  And at the end of class, L’Owen looked around and said, “There are six minutes left…and I know there are a couple people in here who haven’t said anything this whole time…who are they…?”

I did a quick scan and saw that there were only two of us who hadn’t spoken, and…he was bound to notice that.  So I raised my hand to get it over with.  I figured if I sacrificed myself, it would be a lot better for me than letting him call me out.

“GINNY!” he said, grinning with delight.  “You haven’t said one word today; you’ve been slouched down there in your seat, and somehow we’ve completely missed you!  Well, Ginny, you’re going to talk for the next six minutes.”

I stared at him.  (I was stalling.)

“Go on!” he said.  “Let’s hear what you’ve got to say; there must be something.”

Well, we were on Dean’s story, and I sort of…glanced at him sideways, and then I said something.  I have no idea what it was.  All the comments I’d thought about making had already been hashed over.  I really don’t know what I said.  It may have been relevant, maybe not.

I said something that I knew he’d have to defend, and he did, and I responded with something (I seriously do not remember what we were talking about) and I’m sitting here thinking, Is this an argument?–I think we’re arguing.  He hates me.  He so hates me.

Anyway, after the events of yesterday and today, by the time I got to work, I was considering calling him immediately after to tell him that I am sorry, I’m stupid, I do like him, and I don’t want to stop seeing him.  That is the point I had reached.  And Michelle and Adrianna thought this was a good idea, too.

Then I talked to Sandra, who scared the hell out of me.

Sandra’s opinion on it all is that if he respected what I’d said to him, then he’d still want to be friends and things should go on pretty much like normal.  The fact that he is now basically shunning me, she thinks, shows that he only wanted me for one thing, and since he knows he’s not going to get it, he wants nothing more to do with me.

I stared at her in horror, thinking that yes, this did make sense, and that Sandra, being in her forties/fifties, would know better than the rest of us.  (She said it happened to her before.)

I switched places with Adrianna to go and serve with Michelle and see what she thought.  Then I decided to share with Tyler, as he is a guy, and get his opinion.

Somehow, I explained the whole story to Tyler in about five sentences.  I have no idea how I accomplished this.  I’ll never manage it again.

Tyler’s instinct is that he really does like me and is just hurt (which is my instinct, as well as the instinct of pretty much everyone who has actually met him), and he said, “Like, if I only wanted you [he lowered his voice here] for sex [normal voice again], then if you told me that you didn’t want a serious relationship, I would come back with, ‘That’s great!  Me neither!’”

But we all agreed that Sandra really could have a point.

After that I was too frightened by it all to call him.  I’m going to see what happens in class tomorrow, and take it from there.

Also at work tonight, Michelle and Tyler and I stood around talking for a good while, and then I had to go on a quest for more marinara, and when I came back, they explained to me that nothing was said while I was gone; conversation completely ceased.  They were looking forward to me coming back to break the awkward silence.  Conversation depended on me, they said.

Of course, this reminded me of the episode of Seinfeld when George and Elaine can’t talk to each other without Jerry there.  I told them so.

Tyler said, “I would be Elaine.  I claim her right now.”

Michelle said, “No way; you can’t be Elaine!  She’s a woman!”

I said, “I’m Jerry.”

“True,” she said.

“Besides, you’re short,” I told her, and Tyler and I both snickered.

Corey reminded me of Seinfeld today, too.  The first thing I heard him say was, “I am on no sleep!”

So I finished up, “No sleep!  You don’t know what it’s like over there!”

Katie cackled, and I did, too, and she said, “YUS, the Red Menace!”

Know-It-All looked at us, laughing a bit and shaking her head, and she said, “I love watching these two.  They sit there laughing evilly about all their little inside jokes, and you think they’re laughing at you, but most of the time they really aren’t.”

Katie and I looked at each other, and one of us said, “Except that we actually are, usually.”  Or maybe we only thought it.  I can’t remember.  That was right about the point that Dean the Mormon showed up.

I completely forgot my history quiz until last night at 3:30, when I was going to bed.  So I got out the sheet and memorized the twenty terms in order in just about five minutes.  I cannot tell you how amazed I was; usually it takes way longer.  After reading them once pretty much, I knew them all.

Katie and I went to Steak ‘n’ Shake at midnight and, by 1:45, had frightened all the customers away.  Score.

I should sleep.  I have to pick up my contacts tomorrow, and the office closes at twelve.  I didn’t make it on Monday.  (It was like 12:45 by the time I got there.)

It only gets worse, of course.

I took a nap in the library before class today, because I didn’t have to do anything in my first class, and what woke me up was somebody in a dream telling me, “Ginny, you’re going to be late to your history class.”  This jolted me awake just in time, in fact.

I headed outside where I sit with Corey (who was in D.C. yesterday, hence why he was not in class) and Know-It-All (and sometimes Katie) every day, and sometimes a couple guys from my history class, and they were all there, and Katie and I were cackling about random things, when all of a sudden, Dean the Mormon walks right around the corner.

I never see him at that time of the day on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and yet there he was, and so Corey and Know-It-All both greeted him, and he had a nametag on because he’d just come from work, and Katie said, in a semi-low voice, “Is that…?”  And I said, “Yes.”

“I can’t picture you kissing him,” Katie said, an evil tone in her voice.

“Shut up!” I hissed.  She continued to grin.  It would have been funny if it hadn’t been such a bad situation.  I looked up at him, and he sort of glanced at me, and then he immediately looked away, never said a word to me in the entire time that we sat there talking about class yesterday, (“L’Owen?” Katie guessed correctly) and never even looked at me.  (Katie, naturally, found this quite humorous.)

And then he walked away.  Never a word; never a glance.

Speaking of which, when he didn’t walk me to my car yesterday, he also neglected to say good-bye.  As I suspect, the only reason conversation was exchanged at all was because he had my book.

And then as we were walking into class, Corey noticed that something was wrong with me, and started interrogating me, but of course, what could I say?  I couldn’t say anything, so I didn’t.

I didn’t mention this yesterday, but when I got home, I made some comment about some hot guy on the TV, and my mom, who was holding the bird and speaking in her baby voice, said, “No cute boy for Sunshine…cute boy for Ginny, but not Sunshine.  Ginny has a cute boy; his name is Dean.”

I’m like, “Uhh…no.  No, she doesn’t.”

My mom looked up at me and said, “Why not?”

I gave a very brief explanation (I told him I didn’t want a commitment, so it was over) and she acted annoyed with me!  Why would my mom not be supportive of me!?  So then I just felt even worse, and reminded myself why I don’t like telling my family things.

To change the subject slightly, I also left out this story about yesterday in class when we were critiquing this one girl’s poem.  She works in a grocery store, and one day a drag queen called her up to ask for eyeliner, and then just started telling her about being a drag queen.  It was a really funny poem; anyway, L’Owen looks around at all the guys and says, “Have any of you ever dressed in drag?”  A couple of them had stories:  Randy had worn a dress once when he was eight, etc.

L’Owen to whom I was unfortunately not paying a great deal of attention, as I had other things on my mind like trying not to be sick and worrying about the gap between my desk and Dean’s, was grinning as he told this story about how he and his wife like to make fun of each other, and one time he put on one of her bras and started laughing at her, and I’m thinking, “I must have missed something here” and everybody’s looking around at each other oddly, most of them laughing…it was rather interesting.  I really ❤ the guy.

I’m horrible. I am.

It was really depressing.

It isn’t as though he didn’t speak to me; he did.  But it was really weird and…distant.  In fact, a few minutes ago I finally realized what it reminded me of—that part in The 10th Kingdom when Wolf finally comes back and things are all different between him and Virginia because she…well…she turned him down.  He might still rescue me from the Swamp of Eternal Sleep, or whatever it’s called, but it would be so I could go back home again, not because he really wanted anything to do with me anymore.  Of course, I expected some weirdness.  But when it actually happened, it was way more uncomfortable than you’d think.  He spoke to me, because he had a book he’d borrowed from me.  But not a lot.  I know I was pretty under-the-weather—I’d felt rather feverish and blah since waking up—so that might have accounted for part of it, but little things just felt different.  We had to move our seats into this big circle for a peer critique, and there was this horrible gap between mine and his and I was just all, Is that intentional?  Did it just happen that way?  OMG, I’m freaking out—I am freaking out!

And then after class, when everybody stood around outside talking like we always do, and I said, “Okay guys, I have to go to work now, I’ll see you later,” he totally did not walk me to my car like he always does after every class, and that was the kicker.  You know, just a little thing, but it hurt, and I’m sure he probably hurts way more than I do and I have no right at all to feel this way.  I almost wanted to cry at work.  I’ll attribute that partially to PMS.  PMS sucks; your physical side should not be allowed to influence your emotional side.  So then of course I started wondering how much of my decision of yesterday was influenced by PMS, if that is indeed what this is, and then I started to wonder how I can ever depend on myself to do anything right when nearly every thought that goes through my head could potentially be attributed to PMS.

Apart from that, and the fact that I felt like I might be sick at any moment, class was sort of funny today.  The other day, we watched about half an hour of Sin City, which Corey seriously enjoyed (his laughter was almost funnier than the movie itself) and then at the end of class, he asked L’Owen if he could borrow it.  L’Owen said yes, as long as he promised to bring it back on Monday, because he is very fond of this movie.  Corey said yes, of course, and then…did not show up today at all.

So L’Owen, all serious, borrowed somebody’s cell phone and called Corey, who didn’t answer, and then left a message.  Everyone was listening intently as he said in his softest, most serious voice, “Corey.  This is your creative writing teacher.  We’re all in creative writing class wondering where you are; it’s 1:50 now.  [Class starts at 1:30.]  Why aren’t you in class, Corey?  We hope you show up.  Call Mike’s cell phone to let us know where you are.  Take care.”  Something very similar to that, at least.

Corey never called or showed up.

Captain America went wild today.  He kept offering to buy L’Owen a new copy of the DVD from Target if Corey never showed up—provided, of course, that his grade was raised five points.  Know-It-All kept The Tally today.  (L’Owen responded vaguely that it is the principle of the thing.  I ❤ that guy.)

Psychobrat has urinary tract infection.  Poor Psychobrat.  (I actually do feel bad for her.  She was crying in bed yesterday because she was in pain or sickness or something.)

Okay.  I can’t really remember anything else I was going to talk about, except that I feel bad now and I want to talk to him and I refuse to call, so on Wednesday I intend to go in there feeling 100% chipper and like my old self and…hope it feels more…normal.

It isn’t possible to go back, is it?