Well some are forwarded from the previous list, the rest of the items are new and exciting!

1. Write, edit, and market a novel. (NaNoWrimo here I come!)
2. Camp/stay at a cabin.
3. Approach a handsome stranger.
4. Learn Italian/French. (Not both!)
5. Go skiing.
6. Write a screenplay/script.
7. Go to a football game voluntarily, and enjoy it.
8. Go to a huge concert.
9. Visit and explore Austin.
10. Fly a kite.
11. Audition for the part of a movie extra.
12. Swim with dolphins.
13. Write a children's book.
14. Try my hand at fencing.
15. Go on a cruise.
16. Go snorkeling.
17. Learn to fly a plane.
18. Get a pair of cowboy boots.
19. Learn to country dance.
20. Do a rain dance.
21. Eat lobster that I know hasn't been boiled alive.
22. Go river rafting.
23. Work at a job I really enjoy doing.
24. Photograph wildlife in the wild.
25. Bind a journal.
26. Look at the stars and know facts about the stars. (With crazy Texas stormy weather, I'm guessing seeing the stars isn't going to be doable tonight.)

So that's it. And this year, I'm going to start waaaaay earlier!

Or not...

So last night I slipped into bed sans The Ripper. I started to drift off, when my mom came into the room and dropped him on my bed, like a forgotten package. He snuggled into the covers, and I didn't have the energy to do more than weakly mumble. Of course, I did not sleep through the whole of the night. This was all punctuated when I awoke from a dream where some chick at a restaurant tried to to stab me with her steak knife, and I gotta say, that was pretty uncool of her. So I told her to her face, and then she and her friends tried to catch me after the restaurant to do some damage, though that could be because I might've punched her after said stab attempt. Anyway, I digress.

Despite the tiredness, I took time to straighten my hair this morning in honor of my b-day. Though, I didn't get to do as thorough a job as I would've liked just because I didn't get up as early as planned. Still, I used the new flat iron my mom got me, and it's pretty darn awesome! It goes up to 450F degrees and actually releases avocado oil and shining stuff into the hair. It's, as Barney wouldn't say about a woman's hair product, Legen-wait for it-dary!

So, my sleepiness is my excuse for this rambling, meandering entry. I was writing for a reason this time, but I can't remember what it is. Oh wait, now I do! The list. You know which one I'm talking about. The 25 Things To Do Before I'm 26 list!

Did I everything on the list? Um, no, are you crazy? I tried to do it all within one month like the little procrastinator that I am. But I did a heck of a lot of it, and I'm going to count the Orlando trip as part of the year, because it's my list and I can make up the rules.

Okay, I know you've been holding your breath to know what I did, right? Lie to me, if you have to. :P

( Aforementioned List )

Okay, so there's quite a few I didn't do, but at least there's more that I did/will do. And those I never got to will be transferred to my 26 Things to Do Before I'm 27 List. Which I'll be working on writing the rest of the week, or today, if I'm feeling particularly ambitious. I've come up with a few already. And some are even more outlandish. Though coming up with 26 things is kinda a lot.

Moving on from my triumphs and failures. I've got to get back to work. Hopefully patients will be extra-nice today when they call. :)

I'm starting to get the sensation that part of the reason I have not slept well last night (again) is my fear of crushing The Ripper. The Ripper tends to slip under the covers and unerringly seek out the nearest source of warmth, which is a sleepy me. He then presses all nine pounds of himself against my side and props his head on my stomach. I curve an arm around him, and we both drift off. (Though I haven't a clue as to how he manages to breathe under the covers--I'd have to fight feelings of suffocation.)

However, I don't lie perfectly still at night. I move from my back to my side, but even in my sleep, I have to be awake and alert enough not to simply roll over and crush him beneath me. Coupled with the fact that I'm a light sleeper (you try being a tiny woman living in a house with her giant Lab for years, and see if you don't become more aware of noises), and bam, it's a restless night. And each time I move, he moves with me.

Sometimes The Ripper will insert himself into my dreams in these weird roles, and I'll still be aware enough not to cut off Yoda/doe/Hannah Montana/vampire's breathing with my weight. Okay, so I've never actually dreamt of Hannah Montana. Besides, I think "dream" is not the right noun for what it would be, because the right one is "nightmare".

So tonight, much to my heartbreak, I'm going to have to have him sleep in his own bed. *cue the violin music* It's a double-edged sword because I'll sleep better (the times I don't forget he's not there and try to avoid crushing a small bundle of nothingness), but I'll miss his weirdly adorable presence. Really though, I'm tired enough today that it's going to be hard enough to drag myself to the gym, rather than simply collapsing in bed the moment I step into my bedroom.

Anyway, I'm off to plan the other details for my trip to Orlando in between patient calls. I'm more excited about my trip than the day I discovered coffee! Okay, that's pretty much impossible, but you get the gist.

In other news, I'm frelling tired.

Someone twittered about being in London and doing the whole tea time experience. For some reason, between the weather and my tiredness, I'm feeling rather sentimental and nostalgic. So when I read that, my mind drifted back to the times I spent in London, and especially to the semester I was there.

It's strange to think of how the person I was at 20 is different from the person I am at 26 (in two days). If I could go back, I would do things very differently. And yet, I wouldn't. I spent a majority of that semester doing some heavy drinking and partying simply because I'd lived at home my whole life, and that lifestyle and sense of independence was new and intoxicating (no pun intended). Obviously after that I had plenty of opportunities to experience that in good ol' Texas, too, but how new it was at the time...

Since then, with my free youth mostly dissipated except for random bouts of sudden wildness, I can think of a million things I'd do differently. People I should not have associated with, actions I should not have taken, drinks that that should not have been consumed, and embarrassing drunken dancing that really, really should never have happened.

Yet, without it, would I be the person I am today? Would those things still hold a certain kind of allure? Would I have buried that beneath suppressed longing? Would my occasional desire to "get wild" be a constant hum instead?

Probably. There are still things I lament today. Including never living on campus at TCU. Then again, I also regret the major I chose, not getting better internships, and not saving more, but that's another story.

( College )

Well, I'm off. Complaints to log and all that. I wonder if I'll get another call from a guy that threatens to sue the company because he's only getting one free bottle rather than six (greedy, much?). Or if I'll get another call from someone's whose wife confused her nail product with a prescription medication meant to treat ear infections. Her husband actually told me over the phone, "I'm not good with the ladies, especially my wife." Priceless. I've got to insert that into a piece of fiction sometime.

Maybe I'll fortify myself for the coming calls with tea and biscuits.

So October is here, and I suddenly want a pumpkin beer. Huh. And, I want to drink a beer while cooking. Clearly, someone has hacked into my account, because this doesn't sound like me. Cooking? Really?

Anyway, no one said I don't enjoy cooking, but they haven't said I'm very good at it, either. At least nothing has ever caught fire when I've cooked. That's gotta be a good sign, right?

Moving right along. My original reason for writing is simply to point out that NaNoWrimo fast approaches. This brings with it a sense of excitement and panic. Last year I didn't even halfheartedly attempt to participate. This time, I'm going to throw myself into it.

So I'm going to really get into the planning part of it this month. I'm going to study art again, as my protagonist is an art major. I'm going to read about astronomy for similar reasons, and because I've always wanted to anyway. And I'm to obsess over getting to know my characters better than some of my friends. That way they don't have a problem coming alive for me as I write. I've done that fairly well with my protagonist. I've even gone as far as to fill out a questionnaire that gets to know her.

Now I've got to do that with the other major characters, and then I'll feel much better about being prepared. I'll feel quite a bit better once I've done a detailed outline of the chapters. Not all of them, as I don't want to know the ending to my novel yet, but at least the first few.

So between birthdays, Orlando trips, and Halloween, I've got to plan it all out. And I should probably focus on getting projects done and out of the way so I don't have to worry about anything except work and writing in November. I guess this is one of those times when I can be grateful about not having kids or even a significant other to worry about. This way I don't have to do the whole warning/explanation of why I'm going to do pull a disappearing act on them for the month.

I'm going to get this novel written and win NaNoWrimo this year. I'm feeling pretty determined. In the meantime though, I'm going to find something to eat. All this talk of cooking and fervent novel planning has made me hungry. Too bad I can't have the beer, too, but somehow I doubt my boss would be pleased with my sneaking a beer into Cubeland.

Though if you do call with that purpose, I'll only tell you (man, woman, or child) that you're to meet a tall dark handsome stranger in the near future.

Speaking of which, I did see a psychic awhile back (she read my tarot cards--an interesting experience), and she told me that I'm going to meet my future "bf", as youth say, in the beginning month of the sun sign Libra (best sign, like, ever, for realz). Later she got even more specific and said it would happen around Oct. 1st (of this year, just in case you needed clarification).

So here we are. Not even 9 a.m., so there's a whole day ahead of me for this fella to come out of the woodwork.

Yup, anytime now...

Hello? Is anyone out there?

( Humiliation )

Whatever, the point is, with me going to work, followed by me going home, when exactly am I to meet my Romeo (hopefully without the tragic suicide thing and with a male who's not, you know, 15)?

Maybe I'm supposed to wish on a star and then wait for a knock on my door. Wait, in this day and age, maybe it'll be a Facebook or Myspace message. We are living in the 21st century, after all. I could cross my fingers that it's not a spambot, too, because spambots aren't terribly romantic.

All right, so I'm not writing an entry because I genuinely believe that I'm going to meet someone today. Mostly I just feel like writing because it's been awhile, and because I do so love the month of October. Even saying the month aloud brings the edges of a smile to my lips.

Fall with it's coffee, hot chocolate, soups, light jackets, Halloween stuff, and just general happiness...I can't help but get excited! See, I even added an exclamation mark, because that's how excited I am. I almost added another one, but that seemed too extreme. Or extreme!

This entry is clearly spiraling toward a vast sea of pointlessness, so I think I'll go work on the whole translating-Old-Spanish-to-English torture I'm supposed to be working on right now. Though I would much rather daydream about actually dating again. (If you're going to throw a pitying glance at the screen at this point, throw me some cash, too, eh? Virtual flowers are also quite acceptable.)

Ta ta. Hope all of the people that are (or really aren't) reading this have a weirdly awesome day!

Okay, you can stop holding your breath, I'm going to tell you what I decided. K basically said she can't go because of a very early childcare class (pfft, when do your children become more important that a club? Ahem. I'm not pouting...), so I'm going to carpool with some of the other girls for the 10 p.m. time. Hopefully there's still room. My concern, of course, remains as to how freakin' tired I'm going to be because of, you know, the fog that plagues me today. (And because I'm getting old and can't stay up as late.) Also, I keep typing dog and then have to backspace to type fog. Every single time. The dog that plagues me--those crazy canines! With their cute eyes and sharp teeth.

Maybe I should nap when I get home before the club. Not sure why this club business is consuming so much of my thoughts. Has it really been that long since I've done something like this?

...

Okay, yes, yes it has.

To-do list before tonight:

1. Drive home in sucky traffic. Curse sucky traffic in two languages.
2. Get a tattoo.
3. Remove tattoo.
4. Dangerously daydream in sucky traffic.
5. Take one of those necessary evils called a nap.
6. Drink coffee to wake me up from haze caused by nap.
7. Consider getting another tattoo.
8. Dismiss the idea.
9. Get ready for the club.
10. Change outfits a ridiculous number of times before settling on something that's risque, but not too risque.
11. Drive to girl's house.
12. Pile into girl's car.

Then it's club time! OMG and other dramatic exclamations!!

P.S. I've had a seriously lot of coffee by now...

Today I was supposed to wake up early, do the whole make-up while still home thing, and be on time at work, because we often have meetings on Friday mornings.

( Grumblings )

If you're lucky, I'll update you on what I decide, unless the fog finishes consuming me and I crawl under my desk to merrily pass out. Or if you finally admit that you don't read these entries. Though you'd have to read it to know that you can now admit it. So, um, where's the rest of my coffee? I'm confused.

It's raining today, so I couldn't force myself to get up for the longest time. Then The Ripper kept snuggling tightly against me, and I couldn't resist his furry warmth. So the two of us drifted off until the alarm went off. I reached to hit snooze and The Ripper re-snuggled against me and the both of us drifted off again. Cuteness like The Ripper's should be bottled and sold. There'd be millions of dollars in profits.

Think about it. If you were an employee wanting a promotion, you could intake your bottled puppy cuteness, and then approach your manager. You'd be promoted the very same day--that's how powerful the cuteness is.

Anyway, I like days like these. A lot. Not as much as I like cooler days, but close. Actually, I like them better when I can sleep in and then not have to drive in rush hour traffic. Things are soo much slower on I-35 when it's raining. At least I was only 3 or 4 minutes late.

Anyway, I think I'm going to try to sneak in the crits I owe my fellow WI members, and then I'll be off to lunch with my dad. At the moment I'm having an-only-interesting-to-me debate on whether to get something healthy for lunch or get for nuggets and fries. Isn't it scintillating?

Okay, I really need to wake up, and not even coffee is working. Maybe an IV of coffee would?

Also, I keep accidentally posting my entries before I'm ready. Then I have to go back and edit. Note to self: Stop that.

It's started again. The strange spider dreams I sometimes have. Only this time, I dreamed I was in Peru visiting some family. They lived in the jungle (the jungle gives me the creeps in real life due to all the crazy bugs and unexplored territory--too many stories my mom told me about her experiences when she was there), among some trees. Sort of like Tolkien's elves, but with lots of insects (and arachnids), they live in one giant tree. Think of a huge tree with a large leaf cocoon at the top. To get to the house inside, one must climb to the top and enter a hole/doorway. Anyway, so I'm standing outside, when a brown spider that's around an inch and a half long (pretty tame for a jungle creature) comes flying out of the greenery and stalks toward me. So, naturally, I react with calm by making terrified noises and scrambling backward. Undeterred, the spider follows me, growing closer and closer, while I increase my panicked attempts to escape. The apparently-enraged spider flies toward my neck and I know it's going to bite me. Then fortune smiles down at me, and I wake up before it happens. With the knowledge that it was sort of inevitable and I was going to get bitten.

Anyway, I've had the spider dreams before, but the spider wasn't so big, and it didn't freaking bite me in the neck. Have I possibly been watching too much True Blood?

Okay, my curiosity will not abate with time, so I'm going to quickly look up possible meanings. Be right back.

( Meanings )

So that mean that I'm tempted (due to a lack of willpower) into a life of chaos, but there's a force out there keeping me from falling into that, or trying to pull me back from it? Then again, maybe I need a second cup of coffee, if I'm going try interpreting my odd and slightly scary dreams.

So, as I hit snooze for the third time this morning and cuddled up against the tiny bundle that is The Ripper, it occurred to me, rather belatedly, that this happens to me every Monday.

Sunday night I end up lingering way past the time I should be in bed, having gotten used to being able to stay up later from the weekend. Then by the time I do go bed, I'm suddenly all too aware of how late it is, and how tired I'm going to be the next morning. Ironically, this only makes me toss and turn, sleeping on and off, worried about how little time I have to sleep because of the time I went to bed. Which, of course, makes it all worse.

Not to mention that my mind starts buzzing with all the stuff I have to do the coming week. Find a permanent job, rouse the willpower to hit the gym, work on The 25 List, knit, avoid the chocolate I always want in the afternoon, make time to work on my novel, continue to study the web design stuff, etc.

Then it all crests at the moment where I've fallen asleep over the kitchen counter, glass of water still in hand, my dad urging me to hurry while he puts away the newspaper he's just finished reading.

Which makes me wonder, why can't I be a morning person? How cool would it be to bound out of bed fully ready to start the day?

Six in the morning comes by and instead of burying one's head in the pillow and wishing one had remembered to buy a lottery ticket, as this does tend to increase one's chances of winning, one could bound out of bed, not misjudge distances and thereby crash into beds and door frames. One would be awake enough to avoid tripping over strewn-about dog toys. Then one even hold a conversation with another human being that doesn't consist of grunts and the tiny, whiny statement of, "I'm sleepy," followed by the perfunctory motion of rubbing one's eyes.

Oh well, that's what coffee is really for, isn't it? Necessity is the mother of invention and all the jazz.

Simply because you probably don't care, I'm going to give you an update. I couldn't anything I wanted to watch in theaters, the planetarium shows are done too early today, and I wasn't feeling the IMAX either. So, we're going to simply visit a Starbucks and either play Uno or Rummikub (tiles, not cards). It seems relaxing enough, and mom just gave me something to translate from Spanish to English for one of her clients, so I can't go out for too long. Anyway, I think it's a good sign for a friendship when you can do something as simple as playing cards over coffee and still enjoy yourself. :)

Also, it's Starbucks, how can you not have fun there?

This weekend has been unusually busy. Probably because I decided to join some meetup.com groups and actually go to the meet ups. Somehow I accidentally signed up for two events on one evening. The first one was happy hour at Blue Mesa at 5:30 and then a P.J. Party at 7. In my defense though, I'd put myself on a waiting list for the party and didn't really think I'd get in. Luckily, the hostess for the party said it was okay to be late, so I breathed a sigh of relief at that.

So Blue Mesa proved a lot of fun, though I passed the group twice looking for a supposed red gift bag they were supposed to have (which was forgotten in the car). Finally I got the courage to approach and say hesitatingly, "Are you with--"

Before I could finish my sentence, one of them finished it for me. I guess the expression written on my face was pretty clear. So after that it was smooth sailing. I had a pina colada (I studiously ignored the many calories packed in this delicious drink) and just enjoyed chatting with them. They suggested that a single gal, I should join their cocktail group for people around my age.

Maybe because we were sitting beside some plants, or maybe because of all the sweet drinks, there were a bunch of bees that were way too attracted to our table. There was a table next to us with a few girls and one of them got stung and understandably yelped. They promptly fled. After three bees buzzed around us at the same time, and all of us had to fight the desire for sudden movements in the form of swatting, we moved the fun inside. Sadly the activity was still going when I had to leave for the P.J. Party.

Then there was a whole racing to the house and frantically switching to P.J.'s. Driving in P.J. pants is a weird sensation, by the way. And then walking from my car to the hostess' house dressed like that while people passing in their cars gawked was both amusing and strange.

The moment I was inside, I was armed with wine and found myself painting my nails and chatting with a woman that works at Central Market about how they celebrate the existence of this jalapeno every year and how someone dresses up as a giant jalapeno. She added that some people put crushed jalapenos in brownies. Um, gag. Chocolate should never be tainted like that.

Before I knew it, I was then whisked away to have green stuff slathered on my face. A green clay meant to rid my skin of impurities. What does that even mean really? Not sure, but I let the green goodness dry on my face and when I washed it off, my skin felt softer and did look better. Healthier. Nothing shocking, but still noticeable to someone who sees her face every day. Of course all that washing ruined my nails, so I removed the ruined polish and chose a more work-friendly color. This time I was careful to not touch anything except my wine glass before they were fully dry. In the background played Bride Wars, and by the time my nails were dry and the chattering was dying down, we were watching the 80's movie The Heathers. Which was entertaining and infinitely worthy of mocking. It was "really very," to quote one of the priceless kinds of slang used.

The next day, I awoke to the excitement of trying a new Peruvian restaurant called Tumi in Irving. It's rather small and family owned. My dad ended up ordering quite a few dishes (a lot were appetizers) and we tried a bit of everything and drank mango juice. We even ate dessert. By the time we were done, I felt like I consumed the whole restaurant's stock. Now they won't have anything to cook for dinner...

We sleepily drove back to the house and I valiantly resisted the urge to pass out in my seat or crawl into my delicious looking bed. Especially because it wouldn't be too long before we going to celebrate my friend's (serenityveritas) b-day, and when I take naps, I end up sleeping for too long and always feel zombie-like for awhile after that. And a zombie Sandra is not a fun Sandra.

Anyway, so we (the usual group) ended up hitting Uncle Julio's where I skipped the food (my stomach was still trying its hardest to digest Peruvian food--poor overly abused stomach), sipped my default rum and coke. (Tequila and I are non-mixy things), and fawned over carynsilver's sweet baby girl.

Afterwards it was back to carynsilver's house for homemade red velvet cake with butter cream icing (yum!) and presents. serenityveritas seemed to get a lot of cool things. And she had the most awesome Harry Potter-chasing-the-snitch toy on top of the cake, which was borrowed from J. By the time we'd finished all that and paused to watch something downloading on a computer :P, we all headed to The Ginger Man, where I consumed yet more beer.

Today is a much more sedate day. Though time seems to be slipping by too quickly. Maybe because I woke up late. Today I'd only really planned on having coffee with my friend M, knitting, and just relaxing before that ever present Monday.

Ml wants to go to a movie though. He wants to watch District 9, but I'm not in the mood for that, so I'm checking out our options. I want to see something light to match my light mood. I do have to knit for sure when I get home though or my projects will never get done! Especially because I'm slower than traffic on I-35 during rushing hour due to the whole being new at this thing. Mom is teaching me, but I haven't learned how to get to a second row yet. That's pretty important in the actual creation of something.

Okay, I'm feeling something other than the movies. Time to do a little research. Something short and fun. Hmm. Anyway, to quote a Heather, I got a motor!

So I was thinking about LJ today and the fact that I haven't updated since the Middle Ages. Yes, the Middle Ages. What, you don't think Merlin had a form of the Internet powered by magic?

Ahem, so, I was trying to remember if I have enough interesting things going on to even write about, besides what seems to be a never ending quest for a permanent job with benefits, I mean. Though, with this economy, not terribly new and original, is it?

( ”Rant” )

Anyway, I've written too much. So I'd better go. Maybe I should write in LJ more often so when I do write again, it's not a novel. Though a novel is on the list...

How nerdy is it that I wish there was some sort of computer program that could analyze precisely what career best suits my personality? Sure, I still cradle my dream of becoming a novelist close to me, but it's become clear with time and repeated slaps of reality, that reaching a point of being able to support myself with fiction writing alone is going to take a looooong time.

First, I have to become disciplined enough to write a certain amount every day, not just happily play the stories out in my head without my fingertips ever grazing the keyboard. Second, I have to get trampled by a rampaging herd of publishers and agents to even get one novel published. Because getting rejected over and over is bound to leave bruises. Considering I've already gone through many with just stories, I can imagine novel rejection is much...harsher. Third, once I get my first novel published, supposedly it takes even more work to get a second one published. Fourth, I have to get a series of novels published, with probably some needing to be on the NYT Bestseller List, before I can finally quit my day job.

In the meantime, what's a girl to do? Consider and then reject a million career possibilities, that what.

Doctor: Be second to my bro? No way. That and blood and organs--um, ew. FBI Agent: Wait, I have to pass a fitness test? Biochemist: Sounds impressive. What do they even do? Pharmacist: More ungrad and four years of Pharmacy School. N'thanks. Museum Curator: Not exactly in demand. Though it would be cool. Matchmaker: This would be fun. Though I think I should probably be better at dating "stuff" if I'm going to try helping someone find "their other half." Editor: Not living in NY. Screenwriter: Not living in LA. Painter: I like having shelter and food. Temp: Where are my benefits, and did I really get a B.A. to be temp? (Sigh, this is my reality.) Customer Service/Phone call stuff: If I listen to one more person mispronounce the word "bottle," I'm going to shove a bottle up one of their nostrils. Sometimes I like people, and sometimes I don't. Fitness Trainer: Hey, I am planning to hit the gym today. Too bad the pay for this isn't terribly good. It'd be nice to be fit and not have to wear business attire. Pilot: Heights and I are an unstable mix. Chiropractor: For some reason the chiropractors I meet are attractive men. Wait, this actually sounds like a good reason to go to chiropractic school... Teacher: Must not beat unruly children with their own book bags. Must not beat unruly children with their own bookbacks. Must not-- Business mongrel: Ugh, I have no head for business. Accountant: Math? I have trouble calculating a tip. Well, I think you get the sad, sad picture.

So that leaves what? So far I have either Web design, which I actually found interesting back in high school, so that might still hold true now, or even IT Network stuff. Right now though, I'm leaning toward web design. I already have some web design training programs at home that I can get started on, so coding here I come! Also, how cool would it be to eventually be able to just work from home or a coffee shop where coffee can be consumed in gratuitous quantities?

So now I have three areas of concentration in my life I should focus on:

1) Work on the novel idea that's just forming in my head and is still just a fetus, and according to Juno, probably has fingernails.
2) Learn (re-learn)HTML, C Programming, Perl, PHP, ColdFusion, etc.
3) Go the gym on a consistent basis, so I'm not pathetically out of shape. More like mildly out of shape.

Right then, wish me luck, or chocolate, or even other day job ideas!

That's exactly how long I lasted before I broke down. Eight days. Which is the longest I've lasted on any diet as strict as this one is. I think on the last strict one I lasted three days. At least with that one I could eat eggs and meat.

That's right, for dinner today I happily consumed two chicken strips, gravy, small french fries, and buttered toast thanks to Whataburger. And whatameal it was. Tasty and delicious. Mmm.

So why, you might be, but probably aren't, asking yourself did I do it? Because I was starting to wither away. I noticed the pattern Friday. It was time to get my salad for lunch and I was very hungry, but I waited as long as I could before getting it, as I was almost to the point where I'd rather go hungry than force more lettuce down my throat. That evening I ate a couple of more bites of a salad and then called it a day.

Then Saturday I had a delicious smoothie and didn't eat again for the whole day until the very evening, after spending much of the day grocery shopping and cooking vegetables. I knew something was wrong though when I ate a couple of bites of my stir fry and pushed the rest away. The idea of eating more vegetables was nauseating. I was left feeling faint and out of sorts from lack of food and calories, and I couldn't stomach anymore vegetables. My body slept for a loooong time, and I had dreams where I wanted to eat brownies and cookies, but couldn't because of the diet. Even in my dreams I denied myself.

And then finally, today, after using up my fruit allowance for the day on another smoothie, I didn't eat until the evening because I couldn't tolerate the idea of eating more celery sticks for snacks, another salad, or spice-less stir fry.

So I drove by Whataburger and licked the extra salt on my fingers from the fries with unprecedented joy and pleasure. Then, gasp, I had a single truffle. Yes indeed, I am a sinner. And though I do have a bit of guilt banging around in my head, I've mostly got relief. Relief that it's over.

That's not to say I'm going to go back to my old life completely though. That means I'll take quite a bit of those healthy habits I picked up on the diet, and apply to it to my daily life. Less fast and frozen foods, more cooking. More veggies (with other things) and more fruit. I'll continue to avoid canned foods and certain meats, and I'll use agave in my coffee or in whatever else needs sweetening. So it's not all a waste, it just means I can go restaurants again and eat without forcing myself to swallow.

So maybe it didn't turn out quite like I expected, but I think it's inspired me to eat in a healthier fashion from now on. So bring on the salads--along with brown rice and chicken! :D

Dude, I just had a revelation. The reason I can't concentrate on a project like NaNoWrimo is due to willpower and discipline, or lack thereof.

You see, I (like many Libras before me) have a limited reserve of willpower and discipline. Hence why I tend to indulge in most of my whims, whether it's the right time for them or not. This very limited reserve is being exhausted by the diet, so there is none left over for making myself sit down everyday to write down nearly 2,000 words. As the task seems daunting, and I (like many Libras before me) tend to avoid my problems/daunting tasks rather than face them, as I (again, like many Libras before me who've had an intimate relationship with procrastination) optimistically hope they'll sort of flutter away and get less daunting with time, I, too, avoid my NaNo novel. I simply have neither the willpower nor discipline for it. And eerily similar to my laundry pile issue, where I've been wearing clothes in the back of the closet I might never wear because they're all that's clean, my word count pile for how far behind I've gotten grows into a monstrous beast that casts a shadow over the whole of my house. Where's the sunshine gone?

And that, my friends, explains so much. I guess I was procrastinating in reaching this rather obvious realization, but I'll figure out a solution later.

Though first, I'd like to point out that last night I had disturbing dreams of eating cookies, brownies, and meat. Though not together because that would've been much more disturbing. I work up feeling a mixture of longing and guilt. Whatever happened to being allowed certain foods in moderation?

As I eat this celery and try my best to ignore the delicious smells coming from the lunches other people are having, it's occurred to me that not only am I having issues writing, but yesterday, I actually missed Supernatural and didn't even realize until around 10 something. This is a jaw-dropping event! Tell the presses to swivel their cameras from Obama to me, because I might be having a melt down.

The last time I missed Supernatural this season was because I was busily planning my birthday party. This time I was not so busily watching episode after episode of Farscape/Farspace(:P). So what happened? Just recently I said ominously about Heroes and Supernatural, "Yeah, Heroes wasn't on this weekend, but Supernatural better be."

Well, it was. But I wasn't on. So even as this getting-worse-with-every-stick celery taste fills my mouth, I'm thinking, "Did I really get taken over by a pod and then my memory erased so I would reveal nothing about the alien species under human capture and interrogation?" A logical question indeed.

Maybe my mental capacities are allergic to overly healthy foods. Maybe I should eat a single delicious chicken strip with honey mustard in order to gather the tattered remains of my sanity into a semblance of what was already questionable mental stability. Or maybe I should just steel myself for another "scrumptious" salad from the company cafeteria.

Splendid.

Anyway, on to more important topics than the subtle decomposition of my brain. Did anyone watch American Idol last night?

Good god, man, I'm kidding! I have no idea when that's even on. Probably because my brain is too preoccupied disintegrating to think of such drudgery. Soon I'll forget to do the most basics of things... I'll find myself sitting in front of my laptop at 9 A.M., thinking I've already gone to work, my eyes glazed over as I stare at a turned off computer screen, all the while chewing celery sticks!

Ok, deep breath. Ahem, sorry about that. I seem to have gone somewhere else for a second there. I'm back now. In pod form. I'm going to go psych myself up for a salad. Yay lettuce. Pods love lettuce!

My lunch break is slowly dwindling away, and I can honestly say I haven't worked on NaNo once during it. I've decided to blame all this on the detox diet. Gratuitous consumption of Starbucks and other sinful pleasures usually fuel my writing. In other words, I can't precisely stop at Starbucks with my ancient-weighs-more-than-me laptop for a mocha and fiction session without the mocha. That's how I finished my last novel. Excessive use of the Starbucks.

Remind me as to why I decided to start down this road of perfect dietary masochism during the month of NaNo. Perhaps I hadn't drank enough coffee that day. That's the only explanation I have for this madness.

Right. Tonight I'll have the unsweetened chocolate almond milk drink to help me focus again (I already had my permitted coffee this morning in order to appear coherent and not like the flesh-eating undead) and actually say I legitimately participated in NaNo, even without the previously shown ardent ambition to reach 50,000 words.

Lesson learned here, kiddos: Writing + Diet + Sandra = No writing.

I'm not sure why I keep stuttering through attempts to work on my novel. I finally forced myself to turn off Farscape to sit down and write. I made an unsweetened chocolate almond milk, agave nectar, and a little too much cocoa drink, and have found a moving song to get myself into the groove.

So muse, wherever you are, I've got chocolate. Now come home!