More than ten percent done, but less than one-seventh
Today is day three. It’s 5pm and I’m not letting myself have dinner for another hour and a half.
I’m cold, shaky on my feet, my stomach won’t stop rumbling, and I’m angry. Very angry.
After today is done, there’s still eighteen days of pain to go.
For the record, today I’ve eaten cereal (Nut Feast), a few salted nuts, some grapes, an avocado ham and cheese sandwich, and two corn thins with avocado. I intend to eat a mandarin, some baked sweet potato, and a ham and mushroom souffle before the day is done, plus maybe some more nuts or a glass of milk.
The first week of a diet is the hardest, but generally it’s also the most numerically rewarding.
It had better be.
S#70: Light a Fire
Fire. It creates heat and light, and makes food taste better (and kill you from food poisoning way less often). It’s romantic, it’s primeval, and it’s even more strangely compelling than daytime TV.
Last weekend CJ and I went to a party. The vast majority of my friends are geeks (especially fantasy and computer geeks), but this friend is a petrolhead. He owns a 72 Monaro, and he and his girlfriend are fascinated by all things mechanical. At the same party there was a beautifully-kept 64 Valiant (which will mean a very great deal to some readers – I confess, it WAS beautiful), a two-person bike steered with a stick, and another bike with off-centre wheels (which literally bounces as you ride it – my friend made it just for fun).
Naturally, with so much manly energy about, fire happened. I confess I rather enjoyed watching the men take on ironically deep voices and advise each other on the best wood, structure, etc. (I LIKE men.) Unlike so many similar scenes, this fire caught immediately and burned well.
Best of all, it was wonderfully warm.
Play along at home: Light a fire. You know you want to. All you really need is matches and paper. Or, if you’re truly slack, a candle. But I recommend burning more than that. (Side note: When I finished uni, I celebrated by burning all my text books and toasting marshmallows over the flames. I highly recommend you do the same.)
#150: Wear a Tiara
While looking for Winter clothes in the mighty I-can’t-even-remember-what-I-shoved-in-there-last-September drawer, I discovered my tiara. How could I not immediately choose to wear it? I wore it to a friend’s party, to civic, and to work (to which my student said sarcastically, “Pff. Nice TIARA.”)
Play along at home: Self-explanatory. Bonus points for boys.
Tomorrow: Sarcastic dream diary (hopefully)
Mojo
Yesterday I spent three writing hours literally lying down thinking.
I always feel bad when I do that, like I’m not actually working – but it almost always pays off. At about 10:30 last night, I realised that not only could I solve the major problem of my NaNoNovel, but I could send it off. Today.
And this morning, I woke up brim-ful of mojo.
Side note: I read a story about a man who needed to climb over a fence to get something he wanted. Unfortunately, there was a vicious dog on the other side. But the thing he wanted was important enough to take the risk, so he needed to overcome his fear. So he threw his hat over the fence. That way, he had to climb the fence to get his hat. Every time I mention online that I’m going to do something, I’m throwing my hat over the fence – now I HAVE to do it. It works wonders for me.
Remember how Publisher E said they’d actually not been able to open the “Waking Dead Mountain” document, way back last year? They’re not accepting manuscipts at the moment, but by way of apology they said I coudl resend it if I wanted. But I wanted to send that book to the Publisher A competition – which I did. But my NaNoNovel has been edited up to chapter 5 – and Publisher E only looks at the first three chapters to start off with. So I’ll “throw my hat over the fence” and send them that much. Then all I have to do is fix the rest before they reply.
Since I wrote the NaNoNovel more recently, it has more action in it (a lot of people have said I need more action in ym books), so it’s quite likely they’ll prefer it anyway. I’ll make sure I say so in the email.
In other news, my absolute favourite quote of the day is from Donald Miller’s blog: “In other words, if you were the person God designed you to be, you’d be in an insane asylum singing Third Day songs only wearing a keytar.”
Although it’s not at all the point he was making, I like to feel that as a crazy person, I’m closer to that picture than most.
#152: Get in Healthy Weight Range
One of my New Year’s Resolutions (remember those?) was to get in the healthy weight range and stay there for twelve months. I discovered a patently incorrect BMI calculator online that said I’m all good if I just weigh 78 kilos (I’m 175cm). So that’s the weight I’ll be going for.
Right now I weigh 80.9 kilos, so I need to lose just under three, which I’m fairly sure I can do in three weeks. One tiny problem: that means no chocolate and no candy for the first week, and very little for the other two weeks (and let’s not look past that). Each Friday, I’ll let you know how much I weigh, and how I feel.
Play along at home: Are you overweight or underweight? Do you think you can eat healthily for a week (or perhaps just one full day)? Tell me about it, because I WILL be feeling your pain.
As always on Fridays, here’s the twitter tale so far (it ends on the 26th):
AND THEN I WOKE UP
5
I woke with my face in concrete. Wet concrete. Not concrete – meat. Meat and blood, and it was in my MOUTH! Yuck!
I sat up, spitting. Then I saw the bodies all around me. No-one else was waking up, like I had. But a few others, like me, had blood dripping down their chins.
Wasn’t I just in maths class? I shook my head, trying not to scream. Hysteria took over, and I said aloud, “Please, not the maths!”
6
I sheltered overnight in an abandoned apartment. The homiest part was the curtains (burnt) but I found an unopened tin of baked beans.
Evidently even apocalypse survivors don’t eat baked beans. Also there was no can opener. I began to understand my own cannibalism.
My body was different, too – not just thinner. With a mirror, I discovered I was now in my twenties. What!?! Did I go to the prom or not?
7
I watched through burnt curtains as a group of people walked slowly down the street. They walked upright, and they weren’t as thin as me.
My belly rumbled, so I broke a two by four off the bed for a weapon, and went downstairs to follow the tall ones.
8
One of the tall ones kept sniffing the air and pushing his child in front of him. He looked around, and almost saw me.
Perhaps the tall ones knew why I was ten years older, why the whole city was burnt, and why I couldn’t remember anything since math class.
“Mustn’t sleep,” I told myself. I had to keep watch. They had food! And bottles of water! I was so thirsty it didn’t hurt any more.
9
“Gotcha!”
My eyes snapped open but it was too late. The man had me by both arms. I struggled, but I was so weak my vision blurred.
Their leader leant over me. “Stop moving. We’re not going to hurt you.”
I wanted to yell at her but instead I whimpered, “He took my beans.”
“Give her beans back, Z,” she said, and he did.
“I’m Dell,” she said, “and who are you?”
“Fay,” I whispered, and clung to my precious can.
10
All night they fed me sips of warm water, and in the morning they let me have half an old banana. Where did they get fruit from?
I tried to stay awake, but I slept. When I woke up, there were three times as many people – hungry-eyed, bloody-mouthed people like me.
“We need water,” Dell said to Z, “or they’ll die here.”
He nodded, and he and the child went back along the windy street alone.
11
Z and the girl returned with water and jerky. Dell made us say a prayer before we ate. For the first time, I wondered where my parents were.
When I was strong enough to stand, I asked Z for my weapon back.
“What for?” he said.
I said, “To protect me while I look for my parents.”
“Riiight,” he said, and showed me his gun.
I blinked.
“Wait until tomorrow,” he said, “and Dell will tell you what to do.”
12
Dell stood on a dumpster and addressed us all. “Go,” she said, “as far as you can in every direction. If you find water, let off a flare.”
“East!” I blurted out. “I’ll go East!”
Z smirked at me: “Fine then. So will I.” He stuck three flares in his belt, and we started walking.
“I’m called Iris,” said the girl, slipping her hand in mine.
“Fay,” I said, “and I wasn’t much older than you when I fell asleep.”
13
We searched every building for running water. “Someone’s got to have their own generator,” said Z.
“My parents do,” I said.
Iris screamed, and I instinctively threw her behind me. A stranger burst out of a hole in the wall and made a grab for my empty bottle.
Z drew his gun but the man kept fighting me. I remembered what my Mum taught me so long ago, and kneed him in the groin. He howled and fled.
14
I had a nightmare that I opened the door to my parents’ flat and found nothing but burnt curtains, a tin of baked beans, and two corpses.
We waited all day for the man to attack us again, or at least come back, but there was no sign of him. “Let it go,” said Z. We kept walking.
I found my courage. “Who did all this, Z?”
“People invented a way to make others into puppets. Be glad you’ve forgotten those years.”
15
Four men with guns stopped us entering an abandoned bank, and I noticed Z hid his. “Just move on and no-one will get hurt,” they said.
“You have water,” I realised aloud. Iris began to cry. Z crossed his arms. In the distance, someone else’s flare went off.
“You have guns, and water,” I said, “which means you can save hundreds. Let us send off a flare – please.” Their leader nodded.
16
We stayed overnight outside the bank, and drank our fill as more ragged people gathered. “So few,” I said to Z. He didn’t reply.
As we attempted to digest a breakfast of jerky, someone turned up wearing brilliant purple and a top hat. He grabbed rubbish and juggled it.
Iris laughed for the first time, and we asked Hugh to join us. His hands shook with hunger as he ate, but he told jokes (with a full mouth).
17
Hugh and Iris guarded yet another door as Z and I checked for supplies inside. We found mouldy bread, and a cat with three kittens.
“Wait!” I told Z. I found an empty box and used a scavenged knife to make holes in the lid. Then I called Iris inside for her present.
Iris’ eyes widened, and when the box meowed her mouth dropped open. “Can I keep it?” she said. Z shrugged. And “Fluffy” made five.
18
Fluffy liked jerky no more than I did, but she caught herself a mouse. “She’s the most useful provider here,” said Z. Iris giggled.
“This apocalypse isn’t so bad after all,” said Hugh. I said, “Speak for yourself – I missed half my adolescence.” “Even better,” he said.
“Who stopped it? Why am I awake now?” I asked. Z interrupted, “Same man that started it all. Seems he regretted it. He’s dead now.” “Good.”
19
Yay! Finally some more running water. We let off another flare and settled down to wait for people to arrive.
A pregnant woman came first. Z gave her his gun and taught her how to reload. She said, “If you had a proper name I’d give it to the kid.”
20
The lady had her own loyal posse before we left. We were running low on jerky, and I was secretly grateful. Starvation looked nicer.
21
We found a huge storeroom full of cans – and a can opener. Too bad it was electric. Hugh laughed so hard I eventually joined in.
“Here!” said Iris. She’d found self-opening cans. Too bad it was cat food. I’d gone from sixteen to a senior citizen in what felt like days.
We feasted on jellymeat and seafood cocktail loaf, and loaded ourselves with more. Fluffy refused to eat it. Weirdo cat.
15
Four men with guns stopped us entering an abandoned bank, and I noticed Z hid his. “Just move on and no-one will get hurt,” they said.
“You have water,” I realised aloud. Iris began to cry. Z crossed his arms. In the distance, someone else’s flare went off.
“You have guns, and water,” I said, “which means you can save hundreds. Let us send off a flare – please.”
Their leader nodded.
16
We stayed overnight outside the bank, and drank our fill as more ragged people gathered. “So few,” I said to Z. He didn’t reply.
As we attempted to digest a breakfast of jerky, someone turned up wearing brilliant purple and a top hat. He grabbed rubbish and juggled it.
Iris laughed for the first time, and we asked Hugh to join us. His hands shook with hunger as he ate, but he told jokes (with a full mouth).
17
Hugh and Iris guarded yet another door as Z and I checked for supplies inside. We found mouldy bread, and a cat with three kittens.
“Wait!” I told Z. I found an empty box and used a scavenged knife to make holes in the lid. Then I called Iris inside for her present.
Iris’ eyes widened, and when the box meowed her mouth dropped open. “Can I keep it?” she said.
Z shrugged. And “Fluffy” made five.
18
Fluffy liked jerky no more than I did, but she caught herself a mouse. “She’s the most useful provider here,” said Z. Iris giggled.
“This apocalypse isn’t so bad after all,” said Hugh.
I said, “Speak for yourself – I missed half my adolescence.”
“Even better,” he said.
“Who stopped it? Why am I awake now?” I asked.
Z interrupted, “Same man that started it all. Seems he regretted it. He’s dead now.”
“Good.”
19
Yay! Finally some more running water. We let off another flare and settled down to wait for people to arrive.
A pregnant woman came first. Z gave her his gun and taught her how to reload. She said, “If you had a proper name I’d give it to the kid.”
20
The lady had her own loyal posse before we left. We were running low on jerky, and I was secretly grateful. Starvation looked nicer.
21
We found a huge storeroom full of cans – and a can opener. Too bad it was electric. Hugh laughed so hard I eventually joined in.
“Here!” said Iris. She’d found self-opening cans. Too bad it was cat food. I’d gone from sixteen to a senior citizen in what felt like days.
We feasted on jellymeat and seafood cocktail loaf, and loaded ourselves with more. Fluffy refused to eat it. Weirdo cat.
Three weeks of pain
The good news is I just weighed myself and only weighed 80.9 (a gain, but a manageable one). That means I need to lose just 2.9 kilos to supposedly be inside the healthy weight range. I can almost certainly achieve that in three weeks.
The bad news is it means hunger, and pain, and no chocolate backing me up.
Beginning today is fairly good timing – it’s exactly the right part of my cycle, and my huge mass of extra work has just one hour to go. My workload now will actually be a little light – which is good. Only one disadvantage: birthdays. I have three parties in the next ten days, and CJ’s birthday soon after that. Out of the four, I reckon I can be “wagonning” (that is, absolutely no junk food) for two. The other two will challenge my moderation skills.
Reporting faithfully back here will help. So will being able to go swimming again (I still get nauseous sometimes, but I believe it’s food allergies – something to deal with by elimination dieting at another time).
To kickstart all this, I will be eating no unhealthy snacks whatsoever for seven days (with the exception of sugar free fizzy drinks at party # 1, which will help enormously). It won’t be pretty.
Next Friday’s weigh-in should definitely be within the 70s at last.
Good Morning
I’ve successfully entered the Publisher A editorama contest, and I know the book is good. Hopefully I’ll be editing it with Publisher A people this October (after visiting my sister for the birth of her first child – it could be an exciting month). This is a solid backup plan for if/when Publisher B rejects “Stormhunter” and “The Monster Apprentice”.
Today I received an email saying the first chapter of my realist novel placed third in the 2010 InnermoonLit Best First Chapter of a Novel Contest. I get a small amount of money, some online advertising, and a little bit of writerly street cred next time I send it off (I plan to send it to a Publisher B editorama in a few months, so the street cred won’t come into play for quite a while).
Yayness.
#151: Watch “Iron Man 2”
Mmm. . . geekalicious.
Don’t worry, this entry is spoiler-safe.
I really, really liked “Sherlock Holmes”. (I don’t name my fish after just anyone.) It’s the best movie I’ve seen this year by quite a bit. So I couldn’t help comparing Iron Man’s sequel to Robert Downey Jr’s other 2010 movie. And, not surprisingly, it wasn’t as good.
“Iron Man 2” was still very good – Robert Downey Jr has fantastic chemistry with Gwyneth Paltrow, Scarlett Johanssen, Sam Rockwell, Mickey Roarke, Don Cheadle, Samuel L. Jackson, and a robot. I thought Mickey Roarke as the main bad guy was genuinely interesting and compelling (usually I find bad guys deeply boring – including the “Sherlock Holmes” ones).
This movie’s biggest flaw was what I called “Pirates of the Carribean sequel syndrome” which is when there are too many big stars and each has to have their special screen moment. No. Stick to perhaps three main characters, including one main bad guy, and add one wild card character if you need them for a subplot (eg. Scarlett Johansson as a potential love interest). You can have the other characters, just spend much much less time on them. Repeat after me: Only three truly main characters. Three! Not seven.
I was most annoyed that things between Iron Man and Miss Potts had to take a back seat. That whole plot required memories from the first movie to sustain it. Also, the things that happened with Rhodes didn’t actually make sense motivationally. And a certain scene with Scarlett Johansson just made me giggle – and not in the way they were aiming for.
However.
“Iron Man 2” has enormous charisma, and countless priceless/intriguing moments. (Robert Downey Jr’s first scene is perfect.) It also understands what the purpose of it is – to be geekalicious – and it makes sure it has about a dozen supercool moments of sheer geeky joy (a normal good movie has 2-3 excellent moments). I think 90% of the S.H.I.E.L.D. subplot should have been canned – but I’m certain my husband would disagree. He is a serious comic book geek, while I just read a few of the really good ones. And I admit I enjoyed SHIELD, too.
It’s less than 24 hours since I saw the film, and I’m looking forward to seeing it again (though not paying for it a second time).
This movie is more than a guilty pleasure, and it’s more than just a geek movie. The action is excellent and interesting (I also generally find action scenes boring, but this franchise puts genuine character into them, which makes them worth having), and the characterisation is way above average (just without the time to do properly for so many).
I really enjoyed it.
As I researched (*cough* Wikipedia *cough*) this entry, I discovered that most of the great aspects of Mickey Roarke’s character were invented BY MICKEY ROARKE. I’m going to have to go and watch everything else he ever did.
Play along at home: See “Iron Man 2” (or for bonus points, see “Sherlock Holmes” instead).
My plan for tomorrow is to spend many hours in bed with the heater on re-reading “Deep Water” (book two of Pamela Freeman’s Castings trilogy – written for adults, not kids). This is very awesome for me but not super awesome to read about, so I’ll be borrowing a post from Emmy Lennevald, who is also diving into Steff Metal’s list of awesomeness and blogging about it. Enjoy!
S#75: Build a Fort
Step 1: Oust previous occupants of land.
Step 2: Build Fort (with awesome weighting and entrance facilities).
Step 3: Open skylight (somewhat easier with a glass-topped table like this one).
Step 4: Allow previous occupants to destroy your new home (it’s only fair). As happens ominously often, this rule applies equally well to either pets or children.
Step 5: Repeat as needed.
Play along at home: Self-explanatory – but this is one of those rare times being short (which I’m not) is an advantage. So if you’re under six feet, it’s your duty to yourself to BUILD A FORT next time you feel you could use some defence against the world.
Tomorrow: Seeing “Iron Man 2” (which I’m actually seeing tonight :P)
Thursday: Guest post
Side note: Under torture, my friend Ben confessed today that he discovered my acts of reverse burglary “like, two weeks ago” but he “just wanted to see how desperately obvious you would get.”
I’ve been got.
In other news, no – Secret # 6 has not yet been and gone. I am still waiting for a rather. . . specific (shall we say) item to arrive.
Yay for Auntie Flo (caution: mild female content)
Auntie Flo (aka the red baron, aka my “special time of the month” aka “the red shirts of my reproductive system” aka. . . you’re probably with me by now) arrived today.
It’s terribly exciting, because she arrived the EXACT day I was hoping she would – meaning my cycle is probably going to be extremely regular (extremely handy for both everyday life and for predicting my ovulation cycle, which will be super useful when CJ and I decide it’s time to breed).
I’ve always been a fan of the reproductive system – especially the female half, because men are predictably straightforward by comparison. CJ and I had the following discussion as I finished another book on what to do in preparation for (one day) having a baby.
Fel: “My egg is only viable for twelve to twenty-four hours. But it’s okay – the sperm can sit around waiting.”
CJ: “Typical. Men always have to wait around for women to finally be ready.”
Fel: “And if women wait for men they’re doomed to die waiting.”
I’ve always had PMS, but sometimes I get happy PMS. Strange but true. And for me, one of the symptoms of PMS is wanting to talk about it.
But since I only went off the pill two cycles ago (it wasn’t working super well for me, plus my being sick was making it less effective, so ultimately there was no point continuing), my last bout of PMS lasted a ridiculously long time. This time was fine, so I’m happy.
Today I have four hours of work, but there are four factors helping me cope with the extra hour:
1. Two of the hours are with one person (less driving is good).
2. There’s a big break between the first and second lots of two hours (I can fool myself into thinking it’s two days of work).
3. CJ and I are going to see “Iron Man 2” tonight, so I get an instant reward (it may backfire and turn into an extra source of stress, but oh well).
4. I’m eating some chocolate today (the good mood that comes wrapped in foil).
The fish are great. There are still some worrying factors (the tetras prefer Sherlock’s food to their own, and Watson has suspicious white splotches that he didn’t have before), but the tank as a whole has a wonderful balance to it. The plants need the fish’s waste to live. The snail needs the plants. Sherlock needs the snail eggs. The plants need Sherlock. *repeat*
It’s great visually as well, especially with Sherlock and Gandalf interacting with one another, and the perpetual beauty of the tetras.
Felicity Banks 