In my head
Can’t sleep. Can’t sit still. Hands shaking. Locked keys in car. Got my name and gender incorrect. Throbbing headache.
This is what hypergraphic mania looks like.
And in many ways it’s kinda fun. I’m getting HEAPS done (it HURTS my head – I swear I can feel the thoughts marching across my left cheekbone).
My mental illness is pretty minor, especially the bipolar bit of it. I can think and talk rationally, though I’m somewhat distracted and it’s very difficult to listen to anything anyone else has to say (“Oh, and how is that different?” from the chorus). I know I’m going to crash, so I plan for it – saving up my chocolate quote for when I need it to stay awake/civil/at work.
It’s all gonna be juuuuust fiiiiiine.
Eating pancakes now. Yum.
Twitter for. . . well, for twits
It is waaaaay easier than I expected.
Go to:
http://twitter.com/Louise_Curtis_
and join from there.
You’ll need a name, an email address, and the ability to invent a password and type in a word verification. That’s it!
It will ask you if you want to follow various celebrities, and my little icon should be on the right-hand-side of your screen.
If it’s not, comment here or write me an email at fellissimo @ hotmail. com (no spaces) telling me your user name.
Shameless Advertising
One of the concepts new writers struggle with is self-promotion. I don’t. (*gasp of shock from the crowd*)
Here are some of the blogs I’ve snuck this blog address into (most belong to writers, and are well worth visiting):
WARNING: Blogs are the property of their writers and might not be G-rated.
http://ripping-ozzie-reads.blogspot.com/
http://terrytaylor.posterous.com
http://onzeproductions.com/Site/Home.html
www.susancrosswrites.blogspot.com
http://antiquityoaks.blogspot.com
http://jaijoshiz.blogspot.com/
http://writingwonder.wordpress.com/
jentropy.com
If you love me, follow me on twitter.com (and if you love me a lot, make your friends follow me).
Prequel
Here’s a present to while away the long minutes (over 15,000 to go) until the TwitterTale begins. This story features the main character (though unfortunately Salty’s name changed to “Sol” after publication), and is effectively a prequel.
It is NOT NOT NOT okay for children. Contains child and other abuse.
Title: TAR
http://drolleriepress.com/news-and-commentary/needles-bones-2/
I have written the first seven days of the tale – they took about an hour each, and range between 1 and 3 posts each day.
Flashmob Launch
Always wanted to be part of a flashmob? Or join a pirate crew?
To help “launch” my twitter novel on Saturday 1 August, dress in your most piratical gear and relax calmly in/around Tilleys Devine Cafe (Lyneham shops, Canberra, Australia) or browse in/near the excellent secondhand bookshop next door. Attempt to arrive/don pirate gear at 2pm (park at the nearby schools if necessary), and vanish or change into an ordinary citizen at 2:30pm.
Bonus points for speaking as a pirate.
Yes, there will be candy and free flash (under 1000 words) stories. I and my minions will be randomly handing them out to any pirates we see/hear.
Extra candy for children. Because pirates care.
Flashmob Launch
Always wanted to be part of a flashmob? Or a pirate crew?
To help “launch” the twitter novel on Saturday 1 August, dress in your most piratical gear and relax calmly in/around Tilleys Devine Cafe (Lyneham shops, Canberra, Australia) or browse in/near the excellent secondhand bookshop next door.
Arrive/don pirate gear at 2pm (park at the nearby schools if necessary), and vanish or change into an ordinary citizen at 2:30pm.
Bonus points for speaking as a pirate.
Yes, there will be candy and free flash (under 1000 words) stories. I and my minions will be randomly handing them out to any pirates we see/hear.
Extra candy for children. Because pirates care.
One Canberran who is prepped and ready to go.
Yo ho ho!
Hello and welcome (you scurvy landlubber with the face of a rotting dog). It’s almost two weeks until the tale begins, so here’s a few things to think about in preparation: ADD. Pirates. Tropical sunsets and a blind first mate. Do parrots tweet?
If you want to join, write a comment and I’ll automatically get your email and go from there.
Angry!
According to my certificate (which makes me certified insane) I have anxiety and depression. I almost always disagree with the depression part – I think I have rational reasons to be unhappy a lot of the time (namely, my anxiety – and things not going swimmingly on the novel-writing front).
When things are worse than usual, my reaction is not to curl up and vanish into an emotionless existence. It’s anger. I MUCH prefer anger. It’s an active emotion, and therefore often a helpful one. Unfortunately this means I’m angry pretty much all the time – at my SO, at anyone driving on my road when I’m in my car, at my students (some of whom are as young as eight).
My basic strategy is to recognise I’m really angry at myself. (Of course, there are certain limitations to constant self-loathing. . .) I deal with THAT by expressing my anger – with chocolate. It’s a (relatively) benevolent form of self-harm, and it gets me through most days.
So right now, on limited chocolate intake, I’m a nasty person to be around.
Rarr
Weighty Matters
Maltesers weight about 2.3 grams on average.
Natural confectionary dinosaurs are about 6.5 grams, or 3.3 grams by the terms of my plan.
Creme brulee squares weigh about 5.8 grams each, while the equivalent portion of caramello square is just over 6 grams.
Jelly belly jelly beans weigh under 1.1 grams, which gives them a Felicity-weight of half a gram.
But who’s counting?
Superheroes of 2009: Paranoia Girl wins the day!
Is it paranoia if you’re right?
I’m housesitting a two-storey townhouse for a friend all this week while she and her family enjoy a jaunt in sunny Queensland.
It’s part of a row of identical townhouses in which there are sets of two mirror-image houses. Pairs of balconies face one another over a tin roof, under which both households park their cars (so the result is balcony, two-car shared carport, and another balcony). The cars face the bathroom windows, which have sills.
I figured out more or less instantly that I would, at some point during the week, lock myself out. It’s kind of what I do. My friends weren’t comfortable with the idea of me leaving a spare key in the carport or letterbox, so I came up with a cunning plan: I left a key on the balcony. I was confident that climbing up the balcony would be a breeze – because of the bathroom window sill. Like a convenient step up to the roof, which is as good as being on the balcony.
My friends accepted the terms (foolishly thinking I was too smart to lock myslf out), and my SO (who knows me better) asked me to call him (if possible) before attempting the climb.
Sure enough, I locked myself out today while checking their mail.
My attire: pajamas (with a hole in a fairly important area); limited underwear; unbrushed hair and teeth; thongs and brilliantly-striped toe socks.
My useful tools: no money of any kind; no phone. Possible fire-starting or lock-picking glasses (if I broke them, and could pick locks).
My surroundings: a park. a carpark. Friendly neighbours who’ve never seen me before.
I took a wheelie bin and moved it between my friends’ parked car and their bathroom window. I removed my thongs and socks for improved mobility and grip. I tucked my ankle-length skirt up into my undies (my pajamas include an ankle-length skirt) for improved ability to move (ie so I didn’t attempt to swing my leg up, get tangled, and fall to my death). For some reason, this made me think of Indiana-Jones type movies (probably because of the traditional ripping-of-the-business-skirt trick).
I achieved the bedroom window in three steps: ground, car, wheelie bin –>window. I’d never noticed that the window sill isn’t flat, but at about a 45 degree angle.
There’s roughly half a metre between the bathroom wall and the inside edge of the carport roof. Unfortunately, the roof was high enough that it was above the level of my chest – definitely above my centre of gravity. I spent a significant amount of time holding myself propped against the carport roof, shivering and barefoot, wondering if I could actually jump high enough to get enough of me onto the roof to be able to get at least one leg up – or would I simply dangle off the roof until I fell?
The SO’s workplace is about an hour’s walk away. My nose began to run in the freezing wind. I couldn’t help but notice that the near side of the carport roof was rather sharp all along the edge facing me. A bus drove past, and I hoped they couldn’t tell that my skirt was tucked into my undies. Several cars also drove past. I examined the picture windows of the row of identical townhouses directly across from me (no significant plants, just carpark – a plain of bitumen only a few metres across). As far as I could tell, I was not being watched.
I imagined my SO and friends’ reaction if I tried to push myself up off their security light, breaking it (and possibly myself) in the process.
Had to jump. Had to scrape leg. Better than walking an hour in Winter to show up at my husband’s work while not wearing shoes, underwear, or intact clothing.
I ALMOST jumped.
*repeat* *repeat* *repeat*
I tested the security light with my foot. It was bolted on pretty good. I tried to push it. It didn’t budge.
Took a breath. Pushed off the security light and landed on the roof. Got my left leg up, and the other leg was easy. I vaulted the balcony fence, found the key just where I left it, and let myself in!
No one will ever know. . .
And for the record, paranoia DEFINITELY pays.
Felicity Banks 