#LondonTiptonClapping

I Would Like to Give An Update

But I don't really have anything to report. My hours have gone back up at work and Camp NaNoWriMo begins tomorrow (something I should probably write about tomorrow...if my hands aren't cramped from typing already). I haven't done much with driving as of yet, as the gloom and doom of rainy weather has made it a bit daunting. But that's for another day. 

What I'm here to talk about is London Tipton. And that phrase, to anyone that wasn't a tween or parent-there-of in the mid 2000s, will be befuddling. London Tipton was a character on an old Disney Channel show, "The Suite Life of Zack and Cody". She was the airheaded heiress (on the one show that had the Asian girl as the dumb one and the blonde as the smart one) that was known for clapping her hands together quickly and yelling "Yay me!" 

As I tweeny-bopped, I thought that was stupid. As a soon-to-be 23 year old, this speaks to me. I've found myself going "yay me!" far more often than I would have thought possible.

"I rode my bike today, yay me!" 

"I bought my own groceries and made my own dinner, yay me!" 

"I've gotten out of bed before 9 am every day this week, yay me!" 

Now it sounds stupid to cheer over such little things, but have you ever noticed how life automatically gets hard when you hit your 20s? You go from a teenager with a curfew and meals to a slightly older teenager without a curfew and an on-campus meal plan, to a mid-20s adult that is somehow supposed to know how to pay taxes, grocery shop and write a cover letter for your resume. Sometimes you luck out and learn this stuff as you go. Other times you suddenly realize you'r supposed to be an adult, but you don't remember covering this in basic training. I mean, sure highschool is supposed to help. But highschool never taught me what a 401k is. 

So I've found that I deserve praise for doing the little, adulty things. And if no one else deems fit to give it to me, I shall give it to myself. And no #humblebrag either. Eventually there will come a day when planning a grocery shopping trip will no longer require a "yay me!". And on that day I shall give myself another "yay me!" to commemorate how I no longer have to remind myself how to adult. 

So toss your successes in Elle Woods' snap cup and pat yourself on the back. You have an actual life you put together. Yay you! 

Today Did Not Go Well

I Have Learned Things

Strange things. For instance, in the town I live in you must have a legitimate license to ride a bike. That is correct, bike riding requires a license. And yes, it requires passing a test to get (on bike laws, not the actual act of pedaling). But being the incredible rebel I am, I rode to the library anyway to drop off books. And then I rode back...most of the way. There was a particular hill I had to take a breather on. At one point I just hopped off and walked the bike the rest of the way home. It felt like there were bands of steel wrapped around my thighs. Also, my butt is still hurting.

I also drove a bit today. And I learned I suck. After driving around the highschool parking lot (because when I woke up this morning I decided I wanted to turn in circles while asshole teenagers stared at me) we went on a bit of a jaunt through a residential district. And I sucked. And I don't mean kinda suck. I went up on the curb at one point. And nearly got hit (but in my defense it was a 4 way without signs and I GOT THERE FIRST). Dad was yelling, telling me I was going to kill him and that if I kept driving like this I would never pass the test. The whole time I kept cursing society for making operating a vehicle capable of taking human life a necessity for day to day life. And more than once I thought about just quitting and going back to being the weird hipster that can't drive.  

But I made it home with no obvious damage to the car. But I've learned that I don't even have the correct mindset for a car. The "observe everything at once" mentality does not come naturally to me. The majority of the time I'm lucky if I'm fully in reality at all, much less cemented in it. Which you have to be, if you're going to be on the lookout for all manner of signs, speedometers, and other drivers who have been driving for longer but are still pulling dick moves on the road.

The solution, at least the only one I can think of at the moment, is to practice observing whilst a passenger in a car. This is kinda heartbreaking, as listening to music and daydreaming in a moving vehicle is in my top 10 favorite things to do. But I figure if I get used to noticing parked cars and signs while I'm a passenger, then it'll be second nature to look for them when I'm behind the wheel. But I'm still not going to enjoy this. Tonight I shall mostly likely fall asleep cursing Henry Ford's name to the depths of Dante's Inferno.   

Biking, Adulting, and Other Things I Should Have Been Doing Before Now

Bikes Are Magical

When you go running, you are acutely aware you are working out the entire time. You can feel every aching step, your poor lungs begging for you to stop. However, when you're on a bike, a strange thing occurs. You're still working out and you may end up out of breath. But no matter how hard you have to work, there's still an overall feeling of "woooohoooooo, I'm on a biiiiiiiiiiike!!!!!" you had in your childhood. Even when you wake up the next morning to discover certain pelvic bones are aching in new and interesting ways, it's still fun. 

I haven't been able to practice driving a lot, mostly because the weather has been rainy. And if I'm super nervous driving in perfect daylight on a nice day, I do not yet trust myself on a darker, rainy day. But I did realize I wasn't quite as relieved at not being able to practice driving as I'd been in the past (although I still wasn't that heartbroken) So there's that. But the weather has turned nicer today, so I may be trying again. 

I began looking at a couple sources on how to be published and I realized a couple things. 

A. People will demand unholy amounts of money just for advice on how to do a thing. 

B. I may be rushing into this. 

As getting published is one of my New Year's Resolutions, the idea would be to at least send it to a publisher by the end of the year. While that's still a decent goal to set, I've decided to relax a bit on the obsession. Most authors don't come into their stride until their mid-twenties (with the exceptions like Christopher Paolini) or thirties. I don't intend on waiting that long, but I got to pull back a bit. Get some more editors to read it, but focus on other things in the meantime. 

Next month is another Camp NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. The official month is in November, but they have "camps" in April and July. The point of NaNo is to write. You set a goal, such as 50,000 words, to finish by the end of the month. This was a boon to me. I finished my time travel manuscript due to last July's camp and another literary piece in November. And as I am never without a partial draft, next month I will be continuing a medieval fantasy piece I started a couple months ago. It's already ten of thousands of words in, but I've been wanting to make a longer book. There are apparently people (*cough* Dad *cough*) that prefer their books to be longer...like over 400 pages. My longest is still sitting at 250, so I'm going to go for a longer plot. And this one is gonna be good. Plenty of assassination attempts and war. 

Getting healthier is going well. I went to a church event (strange for someone of my beliefs, I now. But in my defense dinner was free...and it was walking tacos) and one of the little old ladies just gushed over how well I looked. I know it was probably just the LoLs of a Baptist church being themselves (seriously, they make you feel like a rockstar for just showing up) but it made my night.

I suppose there may be something different about me lately, because I feel different. For the first time in my life, I'm regularly buying my own grocery items and other major purchases. I'm actually doing things I've always put off before. I'm voluntarily waking up early (8:30 may not be early for some of you, but for someone who used to regularly sleep in till noon, this is impressive) and going out and doing things. I'm walking to places instead of asking for rides. I'm actually learning the art of texting people back in a decent manner. I feel like...well, not an adult. But like...adult-ish. Adult adjacent. Like I still call my parents for help when crap hits the fan, but I'll try a couple things to fix it first. And that, my friends, is growth.   

Dale Earnhardt Sr. Is Rolling Over in His Grave Right Now

Next Month

I turn 23. And I still do not have a driver's license. But today I began the steps to change that, being my father's ride to Walmart. My father, who made a joke about how his life insurance was paid up in case I killed him. I wasn't sure whether or not he thought of the fact that I had been of legal driving age for nearly SEVEN YEARS and I was only just now taking a serious interest in it (aside from the multiple times I had to take the permit test...but after a certain point, that was just a matter of pride). At one point he said "well you wanted to do this" to which I replied "no, I need to do this. I don't want to learn this at all." 

Which is something that is apparently strange for my age. So many people are desperate to have cars. And while the independence could be nice, I just don't see how "amazeballs" it is.....I also don't see how "amazeballs" became a thing. But I've found I enjoy taking a walk to the store. Even if I was to get my own car (I would love to own a Prius) I would probably still opt for avoiding driving when possible. Less gas money, less danger, and less need for focus. 

I will give my father this much: he did take my driving anxiety into account somewhat. It's weird for me, as I'm not a naturally anxious person, to be so freaked out over something. And saying "you're fine" and "you're okay" over and over may not be the funnest activity you can do sitting shotgun (I prefer an All Time Low dance party myself) but it's a necessity. When literally everything makes you nervous, like "what if I drive off the road?" "oh god, I'm gonna hit that biker", and "why can't we just bring back horse-drawn carriages?" (Seriously though, how else am I supposed to run off to Gretna Green to elope if I don't have a carriage window to look out of?)

But we went to Walmart, and did a giant circle on country roads without dying. Although the jerkface known as my father figured out I was nervous about left turns and roundabouts. So naturally we had to do just that. With plenty of jerky forward motions, overly sharp turns, and drifting toward the curbs, I can say that I will never become the next feminist icon by kicking NASCAR ass. But one day I might be able to actually get myself places without having to ask for a ride.

I Did A Thing

I Made a Promise

...mostly to myself. I promised myself that when the weather was warmer, I would do two things: start running and begin learning how to drive. Well the last few days have been absurdly nice and it promises to stick around for a few days (but nothing beyond that) so I'm left to hold myself to my promises. 

The first was the running. I had heard of an app called "Zombies, Run" that was supposed to make running more interesting. You essentially have two apps running at once (which can kill your phone battery, but whatever). There's whatever you're using to play music, right now I'm on a Pandora Station until I can figure a way to use the music I have on my phone, and there's the actual Zombie app. Then at random points, the other "survivors" of the fictional zombie apocalypse will come over the "radio" to  give you an update on where the zombies are behind you or to give you encouragement. (I have to admit, hearing a "wow, look at them go" does wonders). There's an entire storyline behind it. For example, you learn that the runner that died before you was in love with the radio operator. [insert sad face] 

But if there's one thing I've learned from all my attempts at working out, it's that those fitness gurus that tell you "you'll feel great!" are LIARS. Yeah, it'll feel good eventually....after weeks of "death by heart disease sounds pretty good right about now". My calves were burning, my chest was constricted. And it just about overall sucked. So it speaks volumes that I'm actually willing to do it again tomorrow. 

Also tomorrow, I've talked to my dad about practicing driving. It wont be my first time behind the wheel, but at this point it'll be basically like I'm starting over. And when I say that this is a big deal for me, I'm not white-girl-exaggerating. I do not like the concept of being behind the wheel of a machine capable of taking human life. I am spacey and day-dreamy. And before someone replies with "just pay attention" or "just concentrate", let me say that those phrases do literally nothing and are no help. I have been cursed/blessed with a wandering mind for the past nearly-23 years of my life. I have been hit by cars (at very low speeds) because of daydreaming. Someone has screamed right behind me and I, sans-headphones, did not even hear them. If saying things like "focus" suddenly snapped me back to reality, then my imagination would really not be that impressive. 

But driving is a skill I can't really justify being without entirely, even if I hope against hope that I will live in a major city with public transit. So I'm going to face my anxiety-inducing, "fuck, I'm gonna end up on the news tonight" fears for the chance that I might be able to go somewhere without bothering someone for a ride. And those fears are when I know the person sitting shot gun. I don't even wanna think about the driving test.  

I don't know if this is a blog or a journal anymore.

In Like A Lamb...Or is it a Lion?

March is here! And with it, the realization that I have not been keeping up to date with this blog nearly enough. The local community college's musical has been well underway and shows have a way of sapping energy from you, even from the rest of your day. The matinee (a term which normally refers to an early afternoon show that was used today meaning "have fun getting up before 7 am") was this morning and I spent the rest of the day in sort of a dazed fog, mostly daydreaming and philosophical thoughts. I have come to one conclusion though: I'm scared. 

I have used the excuse that I am waiting on my amateur editors to send my story in to a publisher and that is the truth (which is ironic, since I have mentioned this before and I know that a lot of them read this...YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE). But it's a convenient excuse nonetheless. Now I know this is nothing new. People have been afraid to show their work to the world since the first Neanderthal tried to explain fire to his loin-cloth clad comrades. But there's a reason for it, not the least of which is the process. Where should I even begin in searching for a publisher? What if the agent I'm interested in specializes in only one genre and I want to publish in multiple? Will I have to find more than one? Can you even legally do that? But more important than all that: what if what I wrote just isn't good enough? What if I am just not good enough? 

Yes, I know people are going to comment and tell me "Oh, of course you're good! You're amazing!!" And it's not that I don't love those comments. And I do believe the friends and family that have read my work are intelligent and discerning. But there's no accounting for bias. The fact of the matter is, for all that you who are related to and/or friends with me, you're never going to be truly as harsh as someone who doesn't know me at all. An agent, a publisher, an editor...they don't have a reason to speak any more highly of my work than it justly deserves. 

So how am I supposed to discern this for myself? Do I pester and irk those who volunteered to be editors and hope they show as little bias as possible? Do I find some random forum site to post the story and hope it isn't torn apart by trolls or becomes viral and makes the actual purchase of the book a moot point? Do I try to find other writers and pray that they're own ego doesn't make them look down on my work? Or do I trust my own mind, a fickle place speckled with neurosis that has so rarely been able to focus on one story long enough to create it entirely?

I have dreamed of becoming an author since I was 10. To learn in my 20s that I'm just not good enough would be destruction of a decade. A decade of imagining the covers, the signings, the best-seller lists. A decade of writing and rewriting, brainstorming and frantic, excited typing. To actually put the weird ideas that have gone around my head for so long in front of an expert is an incredible gamble: risk the destruction of the dream for the chance that it might come true. There's a part of me that wonders if the bet isn't better left unmade.