Through The Looking Glass

Remember how I said everyone I know is getting married?

Well, now a friend has filed for divorce. I’m trying to talk myself into the idea that this should make me feel better. It isn’t working.

I know that they will be happier not being married, but divorces are sad.

Note to my stalkers: Leave me notes! I’m bored, and I want to know who you are.

Your wish is my command, Jennifer. You slut.

So, a few months ago Will had this dream. As per usual, it was about vampires, or something. (I say usual, but I should clarify that usually he dreams about vampires in conjunction with soldiers. I don’t remember if there were soldiers. It wasn’t my dream.) Anyway, that was a Friday night. Saturday morning he told me about the dream while we were lying in bed, playing the Game of Wills, in which we hold out to make the other one get up first. Whoever gives in (usually because of a need to use the potty) has to make the coffee. Anyway, I wasn’t terribly awake yet, but his description of the dream gave me all sorts of fabulous mental images, and we started brainstorming about story ideas. I took some notes and made a basic outline for a different vampire story. The original plan was that I would write it as a story, and give it over to him to write as a screenplay.

Time passed, as it is so prone to doing.

Yesterday Jenn (not Jennifer) came over and we watched the Blade II DVD. It was very cool, and I want to have Guillermo del Toro’s fat, geeky babies. While watching, I started to think about my story again, and wrote out a bit of dialogue, longhand. After Jenn left for work, I sat down at the computer while Will did some work on his soldiers (1:6 scale, and it was work, not play) and typed out what I’d written, with some additions. Then I spent a few hours mulling over ideas and going insane like I always do when inspiration strikes. I took a break to watch Angel, which was fantastic, and then talked ideas over with Will, who loves what I’ve written so far. Unfortunately, he is such a genre junkie that his input was overwhelming.

It’s now early morning. I need a shower, milk, and smokes, but I’m sitting at my computer, trying to write and feeling generally full of myself. It’s Will’s fault – he predicted that I’ll become “that screenwriter” that the genre junkies have all been waiting for, the one who will write a “different and important” genre movie. If I do, it will only be due to my absolute lack of knowledge of the genre. I figure I don’t have to follow the “rules,” because I don’t know what they are.

Yay for me!

I have this book of matches from Ralphs which I am using to light my cigarettes, because I don’t know where I put my lighter. Every time I light one, the end flies off, aflame, and tries to set me and/or my apartment on fire.

I think I ought to either stop smoking or find the Zippo.

Weatherman repeats himself! Film at eleven.

I understand that the news must be repeated for people who join on the half hour. I started watching at 5:00 – it’s no wonder that the weather, at the very least, would be repeated at 5:30 and 6:00. Information about the sniper suspects was also repeated, with no updates. I understand, I do!

But why, oh why, must they start advertising news items “coming up next” at 5:00 and not run the stories until after 6:00? I want to know about the conjoined twins! I do! And the abusive babysitter! This is Important News.

Oh, nevermind. I’m going to watch The Royal Tenenbaums again.

Dear “H,”

How am I doing? I’ll tell you how I’m doing. I want my sunglasses, my mail, the Buffy tapes you were supposed to copy for me, as well as the 4 months superfluous rent I paid you, back. I want the time and effort I put into this friendship back. And, while I’m at it, I’d like for you to stop forwarding virus warnings to me. Every single one so far has been a hoax. Didn’t I show you how to use google?

Thanks for asking. But I could do without your pathetic gestures.

me: I feel really bad (still) about Thanksgiving. I hope your parents aren’t angry. I know they’ll be disappointed, but I really hope they have the sense to understand.

my boyfriend (who is perfect): sweetie, you have no reason to feel bad. It isn’t like I made a decision: “Family or Bettie”. That decision didn’t really need to be made. It was common sense, which is probably why it took me so long to realize it was the right thing to do [tongue icon]…
And I don’t say that like: “I choose you over mi familia” but like…
Ack. Brain fart.

Me: You didn’t choose me over your family. You chose me as your family, and the rest of your family is inconveniently located.

Him: Wow.

Me: Did I get it right?

Him: Totally.

I’m bored and hungry, and there’s a little kid in the hallway of my apartment building screaming her head off.

I am sick to death of pop-up ads that I don’t notice. It inevitably occurs when I am staring at the keyboard (as I do when I type) and I don’t realize until 10 sentences later that nothing I’ve typed has actually gone through.

I’m afraid that Jamie didn’t like my synopsis of Help, because I haven’t heard back from her.

Did I mention I’m hungry? I knew I should have bought those sun chips that were talking to me at the store earlier.

Yay for me!

I’m in an excellent mood, for no discernable reason. I suppose it could be due to the huge bowl of cereal I ate, but I doubt it. It could also be due to…no, I can’t actually think of anything specific.

I blame Phoebe.

Edit On second thought, while I’m certain that Phoebe and the cereal contributed, I think Katherine’s present that arrived today may have also had something to do with it.