living out loud


I feel guilty and weird complaining, now, about my work week stress. Because I don’t have work week stress, to be honest. I mean, it’s stressful. But not work week stress like I’ve had for the last 5 years. So can I just say it was a long week? Lots of paperwork. Lots and lots of sitting at a computer typing names of children I don’t know and scores of tests.

A high this week:

lynda carter, wonder woman. i wanted to BE her as a child...take down all the evil in the world, little by little, one villain at a time.
future cosplayer costume possibility. (OR! Reality!)

I put an easel together all by myself. I’d peeked in the box at the beginning of August and immediately closed it and pushed it to a wall. Too much styrofoam, huge, pieces…I could only imagine how many tiny nuts and bolts there’d be. Finally, yesterday, I was in the right frame of mind to pull it all out and see what I had to deal with. And oh ha! There weren’t that many pieces and just four nuts and bolts. And very simple directions. Well look at YOU, Lakeshore, you awesome store of easy-to-assemble educational materials! So I began–okayyy…stick this bar into this bar. Well, yay, that was easy peasy lemon squeezy. Stick the other bar into the other bar…stick it…push it in…oh my god why isn’t it going in easy like the other one?? Oh ha, of course. This bar is bent flat, by just a tiny smidge of a millimeter but it’s making it hard to put the bar in. So I took a break but then got really determined and came back–I used all of my muscles and upper body strength and SHOVED that m-fer in there! I mean I WHAMMED IT. And it went in, it went in!

(And I made myself giggle right out loud because as I was cussing and muttering to myself I realized how it would sound out of context: “I mean…I’m trying…but it won’t go in. #$%&, just STICK IN THERE. It’s just…it’s too hard and the hole is too little. I don’t understand…it’s just too bent. It’s bent is the problem and the hole is too little. Oh my god, please! JUST DO IT.”) (I do need to get a life.)

the offending piece…after I jammed it in. don’t mess with me reinforced steel bars!

At any rate. I got it in and was super impressed with my strength. Seriously, you guys, I think if I start strength training, I can literally be Wonder Woman. I can like put a swimsuit, golden breastplates, and a tiara and wander the streets of Atlanta at night punching all the bad guys in their necks, picking them up above my head and throwing them 500 feet into brick walls. I do have good arm muscles, but they’re hidden. Also, my stomach muscles are aching right now too. I need a trainer.

Low point of the week:


this. this makes my inner introvert hyperventilate. 

i borrowed it from this guy –> who thinks dragon con is too damn big.

Well, I decided I’m not going to Dragon Con. I didn’t go last year because I was at a friend’s for the weekend. But this was the year! And Jason Isaacs will be there! And drunk cosplayers! And a lot of nerds, who I like a lot because they’re interesting. But then I started looking at prices. And that was disheartening. And then I started looking at location, trying to find schedules, and that was confusing and overwhelming. And so I called my friend Jamie who sells his nerd stuff at America’s Mart there every year and asked him to tell me about it. And it just…there’s a lot of people, you all. And it involves traffic and driving into downtown Atlanta and trying to find parking and then paying for parking and walking. Dragon Con is basically Comic Con lite, but less Hollywood and more nerd. I’ve researched articles on it and the basic consensus is: it’s super fun, but bring your patience. It’s about standing in long lines even if you get there early, in steamy hot Atlanta (and please don’t call us Hotlanta, Dragon Con out-of-towners–we’re more SteamLanta). It’s about sprawl. Which is kind of what Atlanta is, but still. Can’t we just do it all in one building? I think Philips Arena has room. (I’m sure regular Dragon Con goers are appalled at me. It’s fine. I’ve never been…maybe if/when I go one year, I’ll understand the need for spreading out.)

The things that are making me saddest:

-no to high fiving one of my favorite storytellers in person.

-no to seeing a lot of other storytellers I can get excited about seeing in person.

-no to seeing amazing people in strange costumes walking around like it’s an every day thing.

-no to seeing people at night walking around in nothing but body paint (I read, somewhere on the Internet, that they do this. There are people, at night, walking around the streets of Atlanta without a single piece of clothing on…just body paint. Like: whatevs.) (You have no idea how delightful I find these kinds of people.)

-no to this karaoke party I was told I could sit in the VIP section at. I’ve never gotten to sit in a VIP anything before (except, wait…once when I was in college I had a friend who was dating a roadie for the heavy metal group Pantera and when they were on tour with Skid Row, she got me a backstage pass. I got to sit up front at the concert, and two boys tried to pick us up until they saw our badges and said sadly, “Oh. You’re with the band.” It was quiet and boring backstage and Pantera’s lead singer Phil Anselmo was sweet and charming. And the drummer tried to flirt with me and get me to go into a room alone with him, but I was too naive to understand what he was doing. And had I understood, I’d have been horrified and shocked. Like I was when Phil Anselmo told me what his friend had actually been suggesting.)


That was my week. I’m not doing a 30 day Writing Challenge piece today because I’d have to go look it up and pick one and I don’t feel like it. Miss M has a friend coming over for a play date today, and we need to go clean her room which looks like a tornado hit it. I will not be surprised to find something dead in there, under all the clothes and toys and God knows what. (This is just a kid thing, right? At some point, she’ll put away her stuff on her own, right?) (Right?)

this is totally normal, right? (right??)