Everybody Hurts by R.E.M.
When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you’re sure you’ve had enough of this life, well hang on
Don’t let yourself go, ’cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong.
Now it’s time to sing along
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go, (hold on)
When you think you’ve had too much of this life, well hang on
‘Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. Don’t throw your hand. Oh, no. Don’t throw your hand
If you feel like you’re alone, no, no, no, you are not alone
If you’re on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
When you think you’ve had too much of this life to hang on
Well, everybody hurts sometimes,Everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts. You are not alone
I know I’m going to sound like a total mom when I say this, but I can’t wait for tonight!!! I’m going to take my little ladybug and my little magician out for some fun and some candy. I’m going to be a dark angel myself. Husband will be Jason Vorhees. See, before I had kids I could give a rat’s behind about Halloween. I’m psyched for Christmas already, too.
I’m still working on the story this morning, but finally it has a title: Seymour And The Stilettos (not so corny when you know the story and the style and tone I’m aiming for). And I’ll be damned if I didn’t just have to give my female character arthritis and my male character bad eyesight. But it’s a love story, I swear. There is a method to my madness.
Happy Halloween all!
Almost two hours and 2,050 words later, I’m high tailing it to bed with tired eyes, but a clear conscience. I’m aiming for at least 3,000 – 3,500 so I’m over the hump and I’ve gotten the hard stuff out of the way. I’ve typed everything I had written in my notebook and I made sure to be good about structuring the story as I wrote it which means less work for me tomorrow. Wow, it was almost painless.
Nightie night now.
Well, Desperate Housewives is a rerun tonight and seeing how the deadline for my current WIP (the love story with still no title) is two days away, I have no other choice than to sit down and write it.
I swear I’m reaching all new heights of procrastination. I don’t know what the deal is. This story hasn’t given me any problems at all. When I actually take the time to work on it, it flows well and it’s a story that I actually like and am excited about and I feel like once I buckle down and give it a solid couple of hours I think I could produce something really good.
So what’s the problem? Why the hesitation? And man, oh man, I have a whole novel to start on Tuesday!!!
Ok, enough fretting. Off to write.
I find myself recovering today after a night of impromptu ball slinging. I’m tired and my shoulders ache, but I’d have to say it was worth it.
After being sick for what seemed like forever, I decided I deserved a night out. I called my friend K early in the day (because when the good times need to be had, K is my go to girl) to see if she was up for anything later. I noticed that her voice sounded funny and she didn’t seem to be hearing anything I was saying. Finally she told me that someone very close to her had died the night before. I was stunned. It was as if I knew this person, too, the ways she always talked so animatedly about him. Knocked a bit off kilter, I offered my condolences and let her go.
I went out by myself later, wound up at a local bar after cruising the record store and purchasing a couple of used CD’s. I called to check on K. She wasn’t all right. I went to her house. She opened the door and fell on my shoulder. It freaked me out because I’ve never seen her cry. I’ve never seen her look even a little bit sad. K has always been my good time buddy, the friend who never disappoints when I need to get away and disconnect. She can tell me one of her outrageous stories and cheer me up without my even telling her what’s wrong.
So, last night it was my turn.
She wanted to get out of the house and said she wanted to go bowling, so bowl we did. Three games and a few beers later, it was after midnight and we were heading home. I can’t say I took her mind off it, but I did what I know how to do, distract and offer numbing agents to dull the pain.
And she still made me laugh. When I dropped her off at home she had trouble finding her cell phone. After a few minutes we decided she left it at the bowling alley and I was on my home. I was only a few minutes down the street when she called me on my cell (from hers by the way) and said calmly, “I found it. It was in the concrete.”
I didn’t question it. I just chuckled and made a mental note to rag her about it in a week or so.
I always need to wind down after coming in from my second job. I hadn’t had any dinner, so I planted myself in front of the television with a Slim Jim, a cupcake and a small can of Pringles. I found an episode of Survivor: Marquesas on OLN and watched about forty minutes of it before my eyes finally began to get heavy. I thought I’d be able to enjoy my second consecutive night of uninterrupted sleep when it started.
1:30 – I’m awake, daughter is whining in her sleep. After a few minutes, she quiets.
2:00 – I’m awake. I don’t know why… maybe husband started coughing.
3:00 – I’m awake for no particular reason. I just can’t sleep.
4:00 – Everyone’s awake. Kids plow down the hall all bright eyed and bushy tailed, as if the sun is up already. They climb into bed on either side of me, but son, my little mama’s boy, wants mommy all to himself so he and I hit the couch.
4:10 -He doesn’t want to lie down yet. He wants something from the cabinet – cookies. I say no. He points to the counter; he wants a cupcake, I say no. We compromise with a cup of milk.
4:20 – He can’t get comfortable. He can’t decide if he wants to lie with his head on my chest, with his cheek pressed against mine or with his head on the pillow. I fall asleep before he decides.
7:10 – Husband comes to wake us… time to get up and do it all over again
I really don’t know what I’m going to do with him. While I love that my son loves his mommy so much, I fear that I’ve ruined him for all women and will never be able to marry him off. He’ll be forty and still living with me. Not good.
Now I feel like I need a pair of toothpicks to prop my eyelids open.
Last night as I was catching up on my daily blog reads I noticed some people talking about their NaNoWriMo plans and I thought to myself, “Holy crap, I’m supposed to be starting a novel in a week!”
Of all the things I forget on a daily basis, how in the hell did I let it get away from me that I went ahead and signed up for this?
Not that I’m regretting it, oh no. Me writing something everyday – more than 1500 words a day if I want to get at least 50,000 words in by the end of the month – oh no, that’s not crazy at all. That will do just fine (biting my nails, tapping my foot and rocking back and forth). It will at least get me in shape to start writing everyday so that I can actually start to complete more projects than I leave just sitting there. This will be interesting, interesting indeed. Padded room with white walls, save one for me, will you?
While I’m on the subject, how prepared must one be for NaNoWriMo? I already know what I’m writing. It’s called Bliss and it’s about a newlywed couple, but I’m wondering if I should bother with an outline. I know I work better on long projects with one, but I’ll have to find the time to get one going.
And in the interest of cleaning my plate for next week, I’ve written 0 words today. See, I can do this.