amand_r

Exercise--

Miles run/walked: 16.70
Run/Walk ratio: 40:60
Exercise calories burnt: 2596
Other cardio: DDR FOR 1 HOUR! 10 MINUTES ON A BIKE, LOL
Milestone: For the first time! I ran at 5.0 for 30 minutes straight! For 2.5 miles! RAN! WOOOOOT!

Last week's average weight: 168.8
Today's weight: 167.4
This week's average weight: 168.2
Loss/Gain: -.6

PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT I ATE ¼ NUTELLA POUNDCAKE AND ABOUT A BILLIONTY PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES THIS WEEK. AND A BAG OF POPCORN WITH BUTTER ALL OVER IT (THE POPCORN, NOT THE BAG. THAT'S JUST SILLY THE OTHER WAY AROUND). LET'S FACE IT, I WAS PRETTY INDULGENT.

So after the incident with the knee, I ran last night (MILDLY!), And I remembered that about a mile in the night before, the middle of my foot hurt like the dickens and so I took my shoes off and ran a mile in my socks. I wonder if that wasn't it. Or the jumping about I did every thirty seconds to keep my shorts from riding up. In any case, I did what runner's world said to do to correct under-pronation—stretching the thighs and calves and achilles' heel more before and after running, icing the knee after running, and I ran in my old shoes. No knee pain today! None! Nada! I also increased my speed to 5.5, and that made my knees feel better.

I think the pinching had something to do with the gel in the bottom of the shoe, and I'm going to return them., They look pristine and they don't smell or anything. Is that bad? I'm going to go to the insane store Friday and see how it goes from there. Hopefully they will be open, and they will not make fun of me for not knowing if my arches are high or not. And I'll just have to suck it up and see how I do that way.

1. Guess what you can't wipe up with a Clorox wet nap? Baking Soda. Nope, if spills on the floor and you go to wipe it up, but you just end up pushing it around on the lino. Then when you give up and try to scoop as much of it as you can see, you realize you have just thinned it to an invisible coating of baking soda. And then for days when you step in that area in your socks, you get a squidgy feeling as you slide around in it. Then you realize that you put this in your body: A POWDER THAT CANNOT BE DISSOLVED AND PICKED UP BY THE LIQUID IN A CHLOROX WIPE. (Spider has since informed me that I can clean it with vinegar. Thanks, babe.)

2. Squeezing lemons when your hands are chapped to the point of cracking is not the smartest idea in the universe, lightbulb. However, if you put your fingers in baggies and put a rubber band at the base of each finger, you get to race the clock to see if the pain from cracked skin or the pain from listing feeling in the fingers will make you stop first.

The answer is NEITHER BECAUSE I AM THAT BADASS.

3. Me: Viv, are you done pooping?
Her: No. I got to chillax.
Me: What?
Her: Just chillax, mama.

4. I drove behind a Bronco II that had this on a paper taped to the back windshield: I WILLNOT SPEED JUST TO MAKE YOU HAPPY. I SLOW DOWN FOR TAILGATERS.

5. I have many thoughts on Rhianna's S&M. Some of them are not good. Most of them are nonchalant, which as we all know, is the opposite of chalant. Not to be confused with chalet, or Swiss Chalet, which makes me think of Swiss steak, which makes me want steak. Or those onions that come on top of steak sometimes. When you make a bowl of sautéed onions and mushrooms to put on steak and meats, that's called the kitty. I eat the kitty on fried sweetbreads. Now I want to watch Josie and the Pussycats. Dujour means swiss steak!

6. ( I DID A THING. )

Okay. So.

I opened a document to start a new story (in which vampires are normal and humans are the myth. I'm working on it.), and I couldn't face the whiteness. So I opened episode 8 and corrected the grammar there, and then. Then. I looked down.

There, from under the L key—dust. I saw that.

So after about twenty minutes of tweezing clumps of cat hair and dust and detritus from my keyboard, I stopped to consider that I might have a small problem.

Writer's block.

It's not like I haven't had it before, the erectile dysfunction of the literary world (can you tell how desperate I was to make that joke?), but this comes at a time when I am teeming with ideas. I have about a dozen scenes in the season 4 that I'd love to put down. I have about thirty short stories in various stages of development. I have four stories that I should edit and resubmit.

I'm going to have to drop out of the tw genfic fest. I know it's not going to be done. It's not even started. It's planned. I could start it and get myself rolling, but I can think of so many other things that are more important, like the stories for money. I can't make myself work on fanfic because I think I have to get more stories done so I can sell them.

I have to relax.

Here's how bad it is: I get Poets and Writer's Magazine, and I use the back to mine for submissions, and I haven't opened the last 2 (it's every other month, so that should tell you something) because the Jan/Feb issue is titled 'The Inspiration Issue'. Look at that cover and tell me that's not intimidating. Or it could just be me.

It's not a new thing that I don't like to listen to other people talk about their writing. And I don't mean in a "this is my plot" way. That's okay. I don't like to listen to meta about writing. I don't care about why someone writes, or how they do it, or what drives them. Because it makes me think about what drives me, and I don't care about that either. Everyone seems more together than me. Everyone seems to think this is…important enough to talk about (I think I'm doing that now). All I know is that the more I think about my process, the worse my fic is received, the less it's liked, so I don't LIKE to think about it. So, there.

Also: everyone I know is writing a book. One of them sold their book. Others are submitting theirs. I don't even have a short story to send anywhere. Every time I try to sit down and edit, I think, "God, what's the point, editing isn't going to make it better." /whine (If you are one of those people reading this, I sincerely wish you nothing but the best, really, I do.)

Anyway, I am blocked. I even have an idea for a two-column poem about a man licking the print advert for gum in the subway car. See? Ideas. Still. Who's going to buy/print that shit? My gum poem? Fuck that shit.

Part of it is this doubt that I know where to submit my stuff. I don't know. It's not like the shit I read in the samples, and I can't find a place that has stuff like mine. And that bothers me, or something. Or maybe I think it's interesting. I dunno. I just have to find the place.

I feel better just writing all this.

Fuck all that. Okay. Coconut Man, Moonheads, and P.



Next on Amanda blogs: I have discovered how to exercise, and nyah nyah nyah, you bastards. Also, Cashmere Mafia was the worst trainwreck of a show I have watched since The L Word, but I couldn't stop watching.

I have many photo dumps to do, but here is today's. COOKING ADVENTURES!

( TK-421, WHY AREN'T YOU AT YOUR POST? )

"MOMMY DON'T GO TO THE BEER FESTIVAL WAH."

I wanna write this up, but I have so much to do that I really cannot spare the time, so here's a half-assed entry.

( THE BIG POUR NUMBER 4 )

By: Amanda
Grade 4

Last week I went to the Urgent care because my throat was sore on one side to the point where my neck was sore. The doctor gave me a Z-pak and some magic swizzle, which didn't work because my throat is sore on the outside. The antibiotic, however, worked like a charm and in 2 days I was feeling better. I finished the Z-pak Saturday and all was well.

EXCEPT.

Everything came raging back Monday night. I was due to see my doctor Wednesday, so I held on, and now, I'm still recovering. He gave me a scrip for another antibiotic that is a ten day one. Something about Z-paks not working sometimes due to their brevity. Lovely waste of money, that was.

Anyway, I am tired and sick and I haven't written in 2 weeks because I just haven't felt well enough. well there was that one story. Anyway, I feel...

I dunno if there's a point to writing any more fanfic, actually. That's how I feel. I dunno. I'm writing some and..anyway, whatevs, I feel bad because my betas have been all over it and I feel like they wasted their time. I dunno if I have anything else to say.

Maybe I'm just sick and tired of being sick. And tired.

The point was that I needed a deadline and people to force me to meet it. There were no convenient fests, so here we are.

RULES:

1. So it's basically us all forcing ourselves to do this.
2. Minimum is 10K.
3. You have to include messy sandwiches, which can be a one liner, a whole scene full of them, a partial scene, or as my mother brought up, a messy sex sandwich, if you are so inclined. Thank you, Mum.
4. Posting starts on Sept 15. My goal is to all but done by Aug 30.

SO FAR:

amand_r: Torchwood, season 4
paragraphs: You've Got Mail with aliens!
topgeargirl2: A dark story from Jack's past
cruentum: Torchwood Finds Nemo. No, really.
valancy_joy: 1980s Jack off the rails in NYC (Beauty and the Beast crossover!)
blue_fjords: The Sequel to my Supernatural AU that I haven't even finished writing yet!
solsticezero: Ianto Jones aboard the Starship UK
misswinterhill: Whoniverse Adventure/Romance/Humour/Angst WITH Jack/Alonso, Eleventh Doctor, Amy, Face of Boe
wynkat1313: Torchwood and the Tree of Life
neifile7: Jackstory as The Odyssey.
wildeagain: Jack Harkness and Ludwig Wittgenstien
pocky_slash: A totally self-indulgent, completely AU Not!OT3 that ends in kidfic

Have one? Link me!

I totally forgot this was April Fool's when I did this. Seriously people, I'm doing this. I don't celebrate AF. Tomorrow is D-Day.

I STOLE THIS FROM tw_bigbang. THEN I ADDED SHIT.

Author(s): amand_r
Contact email: amandr at gmail dot com
I intend to write: TORCHWOOD, SEASON FOUR. THAT'S RIGHT. (WORKING TITLE)
Genre: Action/Drama/Episode/Comedy/Thingy
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jack, Gwen, Dee, Lois, Maggie, Ianto, Rhys, asstd aliens and peeps. Ianto. OH AND DUNCAN. YAY DUNCAN.
Deadline: August 30
Posting date: September 15
Beta: The BIG BLUE AWESOME.
STORY WILL CONTAIN: a whorehouse, a casino, a knock off of a Buffy plot, a dinosaur, a doppelganger, a grudgefuck, a sadfuck, a funny fuck, a wild goose chase. Oh, and aliens. Duh.

ETA: big messy sandwiches.

Is there anything my sign up is missing?

( TORCHWOOD SEASON 4: CHARACTER SUMMATIONS IN QUOTES )

1. Happy Birthday, Lord Byron. I still hate your fucking poetry but want to be your drinking buddy.

2. My kid has discovered the miracle that is Disney Princess SpaghettiOs with meatballs whereas mommy feels like her childhood has been whupped upside the head with a cricket bat.

3. "At the age of 22 Conan applied for a job at Mrs. Fields, but sadly never received a call back," John Lauck, President of Mrs. Fields, tells the Daily News. "We want to officially call you back, and make amends for what we now know was a huge oversight in talent recruitment." OH I LOVE YOU.

BORDERS! I APPLIED FOR A JOB IN 2006! AND 2003! CALL ME! (omg what is wrong with me that you don't want me? Is my hair too natural looking? I CAN CHANGE! MY LIFE FOR YOU! MY LI—WELL NO, BUT—WELL, YEAH, IF YOU ESSENTIALLY CONSIDER THAT I AM OFFERING HOURS OF MY LIFE TO WORK IN YOUR STORE IN EXCHANGE FOR MONEY, I LITERALLY AM TRADING MY LIFE FOR MONEY. HIRE ME! I CAN INDEX AND COLOUR CODE, USE A STEP STOOL AND LOOK PRETENTIOUS AND BE ABSENT WHEN CUSTOMERS NEED HELP! I COULD DO THAT FOR YOU.)

4. I started using a new conditioner, and I gotta tell you people, it smells fucking fantastic. I don't know that it's any better or worse than what I was using before, conditioner wise, but it SMELLS GREAT. I HAVE BEEN HUFFING MY HAIR ALL DAY.

5. The following conversation also occurred.

Me: Wanna listen to Dream?
Her: No. Sleep!
Me: You want to go to sleep?
Her: Yeaaaaaah.
Me: You never want to go to sleep. What, are you on crack?
Her: Oh yeah, okay crack.
Me: I wasn't offering.

Then she spent fifteen minutes trying to cram the stuffed giraffe into her ski pants. OH I HAVEN'T SHOWED YOU THE GIRAFFE AND HIS CLOTHING ADVENTURES. ( I have been remiss. )

6. opium_and_tea I owe you, and it's partially done! I have showed it to peoples! So, soon, but I need to pause-button today to work some shit out in RL. Muther fuckers.

7. mini-meme: Five Favorite Female Characters, because I ain't putting pics up for you: a) Princess Fucking Leia, b) Vanyel's Aunt Savil in the Last Herald Mage books, c) Gwen Cooper, d) Lt. Anita Van Buren on the Original Law and Order, e) Buffy Summers, BONUS: f) Amy Gardner, from the West Wing (possibly also Nancy Botwin, Mary Louise Marker's character from Weeds)

1. As I was linked to a rec for Heat Goes To Cold and One Thousand yesterday, the recs mentioned that the stories were ten years old, and it took me aback for a second. They ARE ten years old. At least. They might have been posted in 1998 (the notes say 1999 and 2000, but by 2000 I was living in my flat, and I had posted them before that, so I might be wrong.). I forget. Holy fucking shit. TEN YEARS in online fandom at least. And people are STILL READING them. Thanks people!

2. I feel slightly old.

3. I noticed a few days ago that LJ changed their search function. It now sucks balls. Some journals I would just look up whenever I wanted to see them, and now I can't do that, because they no longer show up in any search function.

Thanks lj, for becoming completely fucktarded. And don't bitch about how I'm a whiny fandom person because I said nothing all through strike through, nipplegate, the plus account/ad bullshit and the recent gender!fail crap. I hate you because your code is stepping backwards, like someon moron deciding they need to throw out their Blue-Ray player for goddamned Betamax.

I have just proven that poem about how when the came for my neighbour, I did nothing, and then they came for mah other neighbour and I did nothing, and then they came and took my Bagelfuls and I uh, I dunno. I forget that poem.

Or that other porn about how if I keep my head when chaos is all around me, then Jackie Aprile might shoot me in the head at a card game. Wait. No.

Sooper secret response for arsenicjade Dr O: (sigh) sometimes I just get so overwhelmed, I don't know whether to start from the left or from the right.

4. I want Burger King. I KNOW YOU THINK I MEAN THE FOOD, BUT NO, I MEAN THE BURGER KING. ROWR.

PSYCH, I WAS KIDDING. I WANT ME A WHOPPER. THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID. NO I MEAN THE BURGER. BUT WITH ONLY CHEESE, ONION, KETCHUP, MUSTARD AND PICKLES. IT'S LIKE ASKING THEM TO MAKE YOU A CHEESE BURGER THAT IS 2X THE SIZE! BOO YAH!

5. Yet another reason why Pittsburgh is an awesome place to live. Excerpt: "We wanted to do this street theater to energize people," said Mr. Buba, who wore a name tag bearing the name of UPMC board member G. Nicholas Beckwith III for the mock meeting. "The zombie link works because zombies have an insatiable appetite for human flesh and UPMC seems to have an insatiable appetite for chewing up our communities."

6. It started to snow here in the evening. I put on Ashokan Farewell and stood outside in the drift for about 20 minutes. Good times.

7. I bought this and lost it years ago (I might have given it to a co-worker in the English Department and never got it back; we're squirrely like that.), and I think I might get it again. LOL that amazon remembers that I bought it on April 13, 2003. Oh sad sad sad. :(

8. I'M GONNA SPEND MY MUTHERFUCKING CRIMMAS WITH A MUTHERFUCKING DALEK, BITCHES.

9. I take back all the bad things I was thinking about Dexter. I just got to the point where he tells Cody he'll go to his school for his report on Saudi Arabia.

10. DEAR CRUENTUM, I AM NOT YOUR SANTA, BUT I WROTE YOU FLUFFY SCOTT/JB RPS. No, it wasn't me. I wish it had been.