Watch out for that ice cream truck

It's finally stopped raining, but I don't feel so different. In spite of exercising, in spite of making plans to see good people, in spite of so much coffee, I've been uber-tired lately, and I'm wondering if dating causes sleeping sickness.

Or maybe writing a creative thesis?

One or the other.

I'm still sort of tricking myself into getting the rewriting done, which is fine, as long as it keeps getting done. If you've ever gone through a phase of having very intense dreams, and it made you avoid going to bed, that might give an idea of how I feel about sitting down to write lately. It's not that I don't enjoy it, I'm not having bad dreams, but I anticipate intensity, and that gives me pause.

Same with dating now that I think about it. it might be nice to be in a relationship again. It might be the equivalent of getting run over by an ice cream truck -- that is, ironically painful.

Get over it.

In the meanwhile, one of my greatest pleasures is reading Ursula K. Le Guin's collection of essays on fantasy and science fiction The Language of the Night. I hope whatever I write next will be at least a little fantastic. Reality is getting tired.

UPDATE: My temperature is a bit below normal. Because I'm below normal? Or because I am ill? Which would explain the mopey. I will reserve judgment on dating and writing until my temperature improves.

Rainy funky rain

It's the rainiest of rainy days. I'm going to see if I have some yoga in me, because otherwise I don't know how I'll manage anything more than sleep for the rest of the day. Got some writing in this morning, and I'd like to do more.

I'm at a stage in my rewrite where the whole thing feels very daunting. I've turned a corner into the middle of the story, and I need to make some big decisions about how things are going to unfold. I know I'll do it, but I'd love to be able to think about it over a long walk, and the weather's not cooperating.

Yick.

I often think I should get out and see music more often, and last night I did twice. The first charged a cover and turned out to be an all-ages show attended mostly by what seemed to be a teenage boy's birthday party and a lot of older chaperones. Everyone my age knew better than to be there I guess -- the bassist and drums weren't together, the sidekick singer was flat, and they had things cranked way too loud for the space. Then later, I saw live blues -- no cover -- that made people dance and scream. Beautiful. Live music redeemed.

Just finished reading The Dead and the Gone by Susan Beth Pfeffer, one of those apocalyptic books I love so well.

Beast: 1, Rachel: 0

The Beast nearly did me in on Sunday night. Wow.

He was sitting on the carpet, looking relaxed and happy with himself, when, BLARGH, he puked all over. This dog eats raw meat, so it was special.

Then before I can even think about how I'm going to get the meaty bits out of this carpet that's really less like carpet and more like basketweave, he's had liquid poo all over the floor. Then before I can get to the kitchen and back with a paper towel, and oh, the smell, he's walking around the apartment wagging his (very messy) tail, and leaving a trail of poo along all the walls.

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bruno felt fine and frisky after getting all that out of his system. Parker ran to a far corner of the condo to avoid the smell and cleaning duties. I still haven't fully recovered.

The last few days have been a blur of after-school program, school show rehearsals, online addiction, and one of the worst sleeping schedules I've hit on in a long time.

A few highlights:

Child raises hand and waits to be called on to say, "Excuse me, I burped in my mouth."

Got hit on by a guy who "identifies with animals" to the point of dressing up like them. No.

Learned a house song that LMack wrote for Dixon. I begins with the words, "One day Justin was meditating on a strange white block that he got for his birthday." Other strange treats from Dixon include Santa morphing into an elephant and being forced to do tricks while all the children in America disappear, teacher Tim being kept as a pet in a cage and made to see plays . . . I'm excited for this show.

Breakups and the Beast

Because I've been slow to post, I'm going to make up for it by sharing something silly. Mike Tutaj made this film, "The 10th Date" (based on a story we adapted way back in 2004 or so) for the Monkeys Wilmette show last March. My blog's too narrow to fit the widescreen, but you can watch it here.

This is the original story:

Once there was a girl named Ashley and a Man named Frankie. They’re on their 10th date. Frankie breaks up with her. She gets really mad and slaps him. “Why!” she said. Frankie said “I’m moving to Alaska.” “I’m going to miss you!” “Yeah!” “Well, isn’t this when you say I’ll miss you too?”

Sorry for being slow to post. If you have a problem with it, I might have to slap you. I had the post-packet sloth, followed by dogsitting for JJ's beast, Bruno.



Since JJ has a nice place with cable on demand, it's easy to chillax and not know where the time has gone. Bruno, Parker, and I watched Twilight together, and Bruno really liked when Cedric Diggory got all mean and sparkly at the same time. Parker says she could never be afraid of a guy who glitters, but she's real alpha and not so into pushy guys.

Rae Rae just read JJ's copy of He's Just Not That into You and liked it way more than she thought she would. "10th Date" Ashley should definitely read it.

In deep

I'm finishing Packet 3 of 5 for my last semester. Yesterday I wrapped up the fiction and the bibliography. Today is all about my lecture and writing my letter to my advisor.

I'm optimistic, but writing a book, even a few drafts in, is all about the deep, dark forest.

This goes in tonight or tomorrow morning, and I promise to give some attention to this bloggy blog after it's done.

I could watch this for hours

Sadly, I have to work.

Currently reading Peter Pan

Smooches! The results are in . . .

The official results of the "Who's Reading Rae Rae?" Poll:

People who used to kiss me
3 (12%)

People who want to kiss me
5 (20%)

Friends who are thinking about other friends of theirs who might want to kiss me
10 (41%)

Friends who think I am a craze for making a poll about kissing
8 (33%)

Strangers wondering why I'm obsessed with kissing today (it's finally spring in Chicago y'all)
2 (8%)

My family - um, awkward!
1 (4%)

And what have I learned?

At least five people want to kiss me. Not bad.

I shouldn't get too excited about those five people because I know for a fact that one of them is my Mom. Seriously, my Mom! She told me on the phone yesterday.

People who want to kiss me respond much faster than people who don't -- a gazilion times faster. Obvious, right? Still, I didn't anticipate it. Here is a motivational tool that bears keeping in mind.

Based on the co-occurrence of votes, at least one or two people who "used to kiss me" still "want to kiss me." Allowing for the possibility that this, again, is the work of my Mom, this points to some degree of user satisfaction.

Most of the people who read my blog are friends, which means a) only friends read my blog, b) strangers who read my blog identify with me SO quickly that they FEEL like I'm they're friend (watch me wishful think), or c) strangers are, for the most part, not joiners-inners.

A lot of my friends claim to be thinking of people who might want to kiss me. Great. Less thinking, more kissing.

Rae Rae is currently reading: Extras by Scott Westerfeld