Move Yourself

I was going to title this Musically Inclined, but I'd already used that and I honestly don't feel like making it a series or anything. I figure I have enough of those already.

For those of you still waiting on that massive London post - I'm getting there. That's my next thing, right up there with typing out my reflective journals from where they're written longhand. All while I have my nightly beer and wonder what mayhem I can induce on Inkpop. Model citizen, I am.

On a side note, I hope you're enjoying the new Murphy segments.

I like P!nk. She's got some good stuff, though I'm not a big fan of everything that she does. Just like while my favorite band is Matchbox Twenty, there are songs I'm not crazy about. Anyway, one of my online friends (who's also recently my Facebook friend and has been a fabulous blogging/internet friend to my sister, Heather) Connie, over at The Young and the Relentless had posted P!nk's new video on her Facebook wall. I just kind of skimmed over that in my list of updates the other day, and, when I had some last week, actually looked it up on YouTube (because you know how much I like YouTube these days).

I'm a big fan of this song. It's one of her more tamer pieces, though it's still got that beat. And if you listen to the lyrics, I think you'll be surprised. I'm going to share with you what Connie shared with me.

Murphy and Me XXIX

We cheated. We didn't walk all the way back to my room to get the keys, just as far as Medbury to get the Honda from Liam. Then drove to Jackson, go my spare keys, drove back to Wegman's, drove back to Medbury, and then back to Jackson, and wound up eating our cookies on the battered couch in the lounge across from the third floor fishbowl. Murph had his feet stretched out onto a chair and I was suckered against his furnace-like warmth.

"Your brother didn't have to laugh quite so hard," I mumbled around a half-eaten ladybug.

"He did have a point."

Liam had nearly fallen over when I'd told him I'd locked the keys in the car. And then insinuated I was more focused on other things.

Not my fault Wegman's cookies and Murph are so damn distracting. Drool-inducing on their own and together? Positively mind-blowing.

"Have you done that before?" he asked. "Locked your keys in the car?"

The ladybug was down to half a wing. "Yup. In my driveway after coming home from work one night."

Murph kissed the top of my head. "You are one of a kind, Ol."

I put the ladybug out of its misery and turned, snuggling into Murph's side. It hit me: This was the same couch that we'd snuggled on during that night in pre-season. Seemed like years ago, now, though it was only a month and a half at the most.

And then I realized I'd had Murph for a month. Which meant that I had three more months of Murph-induced happiness left. Most - if not all - of my previous relationships had been over by the four month mark. That was my track record. That was always how the story ended. This, in all reality, wouldn't be any different.

Except incredibly more painful when it was gone.

Best not to think about that at the moment, as it's not conducive to the whole living in the here and now concept.

At this moment? I'm golden. Also helps that I'm warm, which is always a plus.

"You feelin' better?" he asked, idly running his fingertips across the back of my hand.

"Much, Murph." I settled further into his side. "Thank you."

His other hand reached around to hold my free one. "For what?"

Did he want the short list or the long? "For stickin' with me even though I've been an asshat most of the day." Which was the truth of it. Murph hadn't left me when others would have, even when I hit my nastiest.

He shrugged. "We all have days like that. I'm not gonna leave you because you have crappy days."

Give it time, Murph. Give it time.

If I wasn't careful, I was going to fall asleep on this couch with this boy. Then again, been there, done that.



Much as I like spending time with Mac and his whirlpool, I'd just as soon spend the rest of my Saturday afternoon sitting on my bed with my computer and a bag of ice. The ethernet plug was a safety hazard, but I wasn't expecting anyone. Not to mention trying to connect to the wireless network while on the fourth floor was entirely hit or miss. Usually more miss than hit.

Like any college student worth their tuition, I was Facebooking as much as working on one of my acting papers.

Who the hell has papers in an acting class, anyway?

The traditional Facebook knock sounded. I navigated through my open tabs.

Murphy McRiley: hey :)
Olivia Karizslowski: hiya sunshine
Murphy McRiley: r u tapdancin in the hallway?
Olivia Karizslowski: little early to be blitzed, dontcha think?
Murphy McRiley: funny. :) so thats not u?
Olivia Karizslowski: nope. besides, i can't dance.
Murphy McRiley: yes u can. ive seen u :)

And I've seen you dance, too, Murph. Light on your feet, yes. Rhythmic? Absolutely not.

Olivia Karizslowski: but i can't tap.
Murphy McRiley: oh
Murphy McRiley: dev can

I did a double take at that one. Dev could tap dance? No way.

Olivia Karizslowski: i call bullshit.
Murphy McRiley: ask him

Fine. Couple of clicks later I had another chat window open.

Olivia Karizslowski: dev
Devan Michael Starrett: lies. whatever he's telling you, it's lies. he's laughing his ass off at his computer.
Olivia Karizslowski: he told me you could tapdance.
Devan Michael Starrett: tell him you once took dance as a kid and this is what happens.
Devan Michael Starrett: how partial are you to your boyfriend?
Olivia Karizslowski: pretty partial.

Another pop.

Murphy McRiley: what did u tell him to make him throw his nalgene at me?
Olivia Karizslowski: nothin. :)

I got a bit more of my paper typed and the next time I checked my page there was one new notification.

Murphy McRiley has changed his relationship status from single to being in a relationship with you. Confirm. Deny.

There was a very curious feeling in my belly. Almost like the urge to puke from nerves but not quite. I clicked the only logical button and then stared at my profile page. We'd been official since that day at the pub, though this was different. Different in a way that I could feel but not exactly explain.

Maybe it was because I'd never changed it to say I was in a relationship with Bobby.

Best leave that where it was, meaning firmly in my not-so-younger days.

There were two more pops.

William McRiley: FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!

And, of course

Alexandra Meyer-Roberts: bout freakin time
Olivia Karizslowski: Thanks Sasha. thanks so much.

Managed another page and a half before I was interrupted again.

William McRiley: betcha twenty minutes before your webmail explodes
Olivia Karizslowski: fifteen tops.

I had a full inbox page of notifications concerning my new status in eight minutes. Guinness record, anyone? Maybe not.

Pop.

Facebook needed a new sound.

Murphy McRiley: talk of the town aren't we?
Olivia Karizslowski: there's worse to talk about.
Murphy McRiley: such an optimist, chroi

He'd called me something in Gaelic. Much as I wanted to Google it, I'd let him tell me when he was ready. Not to mention I wanted to hear it first. From Murphy with the accent he got when he dabbled in Gaelic.

Only took me forty-five more minutes to finish my paper, say goodbye to those I was chatting with, and arrange my computer on my desk again. The ice bag had all but bit the dust and I trucked out to the hall garbage for that.

I should do some reading. S-T Britain, at least, so I could actually pluck up enough courage to speak in Kessinette's lecture on Monday. Though, from the way he'd started to sound, we might have a sort of sick day.

For Kessinette, not me, since I had three classes on Monday. I didn't really get a sick day.

Eh, I could read while I watched Newsies. Not like I hadn't done it before.

I set the movie up, grabbed my phone and my tie blanket and curled up in my moon chair. A Saturday night to myself. I enjoyed going out with Murph, but also really liked spending time on my own doing my own thing. Accepting a dinner invite from the girls - though I was flirting with ordering take-out from Main Moon - and then watching a movie or something. Those were the kinds of nights where I stayed in my comfort zone and mellowed out.

Jack and David were more or less debating the finer points of unionizing when I heard the scuffling.

"She's in there, trust me."

That was Liam. And if Liam was creepin' around my door then Murph and Dev couldn't be far behind. Colby, too.

My boys.

No idea where that came from but it fit. The feeling of content in my chest meant it fit. Which was, in a way, so much scarier than any physics test.

"Ol?"

"Yeah, Dev?" I hunkered in my chair after pausing my movie. Nothing. "You guys can come in." The place was clean; all embarrassing undergarments were properly stowed out of sight, as were the other female unmentionables.

He opened the door and there they were. My boys. Clustered in the doorway, not one of them the same. Even the twins were different. Broad shouldered, varying height (Colby could almost cleanly look over Dev's shoulder while Murph and Liam could look in his ears); Colby's red-blond hair with green eyes like mine; Dev's duck-brown mop of curls and almost matching eyes. And my twins. Roughly the same height (though Murph had Liam by a scant inch), same rich brown hair, and not a whole lot of styling from either of them, truthfully.

Didn't matter. They were still my boys.

"We're going to Parker's, wanna come with?"

I rolled my head back against the chair. "That means I gotta put nice clothes on." My biggest problem was that I didn't want to move. Not to mention this felt like a guys' night out type of thing. "What are you doing after?"

There were almost four synchronized shrugs.

"Probably going back somewhere and watching a movie." Liam stepped all the way in, taking a look around.

"You guys don't have to stand in the doorway." They didn't. I knew them all and it wasn't a big deal to have them in this space. The door thumped shut and there were now four fairly abnormally-sized men in my corner single. I should have felt claustrophobic. Instead, it was comfortable and familiar.

Murph sat on my bed, toes skimming the floor. "We could always come back here for the movie. If that's alright with everyone?"

They looked at me. "It's fine. Some of the girls might come over, so that okay with you guys?"

Four heads nodded.

"Have you eaten yet?" Colby asked, leaning against my desk.

"Chinese take-out." I hadn't had it in a while and, to be honest, was not feelin' the whole walk to the dining hall. "And Newsies."

"Love that movie," Liam mumbled. "But if we want to beat the rush, we should go."

I have a thumbs up up, hand the only body part outside the blanket, and then waved. Murph made a detour to lean in close. He was going to say something, as he didn't immediately kiss me.

"Will you get me an egg roll?"

"Yeah." I gave him my best anime eyes. "Sweet potato fries?"

He grinned before kissing my nose. "We'll be back."

"I'll be here."

I fumbled for the remote and pressed play again. Chinese, sweet potato fries, movies, and the boys, specifically Murph. Should be absolutely awesome.

Murphy and Me XXVIII

[I wrote this and then had a craving for a Wegman's cookie. If anybody wants to send one to me, that would be great.]

"Stay calm. You have an hour."

Pat tucked his hands into his yellow cardigan and rocked back on his heels.

Great. An hour to prove I couldn't do physics. Deep breath. Don't panic. I flipped the test over to the front and looked at the first question. Vectors. Vectors and force. I had a formula for that. I think.

Oh, I absolutely despise physics. Even if I was allowed a calculator and one side of a three by five notecard, covered in formulas. All of which was starting to look like a language other than English. Didn't really matter which, honestly, but holy hell this didn't make much sense.

And I had fifty-five more minutes to make it resemble something coherent. Just to answer the damn question, too. Why, exactly, was I a science major again? Because, for some odd reason, I enjoyed torturing myself. Mentally, at least. Did that classify me as a masochist?

Dear God, I was so going to fail miserably.



"Don't even friggin' ask because I do not want to talk about it," I snapped at Sasha as I sat heavily on my stool in the locker room. She looked at me blankly, waving away the other girls. Sasha knew how to deal with me in a snit - ignore me and give me something to use as an outlet.

Like soccer practice.

First day back to full contact and I was volatile as hell. I pitied whichever teammate I slide tackled first.

There was more than a hint of violence in the way I pulled on my socks; the way the electrical tape snapped like it couldn't handle the aggression after it wound around my shinguards.

Taking a shit day out on others wasn't right. Taking it out on a ball with black hexagons? Perfectly acceptable. Anything else could be classified as collateral damage.

"Have you seen Murph today?" Sasha asked when she knew I'd calmed down enough not to rip her head off.

"Nope." Focused on winding the laces under the flattened arch of my cleats, cinching them tightly. Did the same to the other and thumped my right heel against my brace. It wasn't fair of me, but I wanted my starting spot back with minimal effort.

Not likely to happen, but a girl could hope.

Sasha tried a few more times to get me to talk to her with limited success. By limited, I mean none. Simply not in the mood. She finally gave up as we headed toward the field, clacking along the floor in tight silence. We weren't supposed to wear spiked shoes inside. Our theory was that if the boys could do it, so could we.

That philosophy actually got us more flack than anything else, really.

Which always brought me back to a card I'd seen at CVS one time while looking for a birthday card for my sister. It very succinctly stated the obvious: We learned it all in kindergarten; Boys are stupid.

Considering our boys listened to techno, I'd be inclined to agree with that line of reasoning.



I needed another day like that much like I needed a hole in my head. Casey hadn't said who was starting Saturday as the other central defender now that I was back, and I could handle that. Would drive me nuts for the next day and a half, but I'd deal.

What might make me certifiable would be waiting for the results of my first physics test. After taking a few moments to look back at my notes while trying to unwind with Glee playing in the background, I could see it quite plainly scrawled across the top of my notebook. Congratulations, you're utterly useless at vectors and have failed. Do not pass physics 150, do not graduate. Little more significant than missing out on two hundred dollars by not passing go.

My phone rattled against the bed frame. I tipped sideways to lie curled on the comforter, fumbling for the power cord. There was a knock on he door.

"Open," I called, flipping open the little black box. Text from Sasha asking about my current mental health. Considering Murph had just made an appearance, it couldn't be all that bad.

"Hey." He shuffled his feet on the carpet before leaning down to kiss me.

"Hi." I'm no fairytale princess. Murph's presence didn't instantly make all my troubles go away. Didn't make me feel any more chipper or happier about my damn day. He helped, sure, but he wasn't a miracle cure.

"Rough day?"

No shit. "You could say that."

He leaned his hip against the mattress. "How'd the physics test go?"

I stiffened. "It didn't." Leave it alone, Murph. Please.

"Couldn't have been that bad." He took one look at the expression on my round face and flinched. "How do you think you did?"

Fact: Death glare is less potent on boyfriend than best friend.

"I think I failed." And really, putting the fear that had been bugging the shit out of me all day out into the open air? My chest felt lighter. Not by much, though. Just enough.

Enough to realize I'd been an absolute asshat to everyone I'd spoken to since the test. Including my bestie and, as of very recently, my boyfriend.

"I'm sorry."

Murph moved to the foot of the bed, raised himself on his toes, and sat. Nudged off his shoes and swung himself around to put his back against the dresser and slip a leg under both of mine to rest my knees on his calf. "For what?"

I yanked one of my pillows from under my head to prop my chest on to look at him better. Faded blue jeans and a green plaid button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was a sharp contrast to my soccer shorts and over-sized long-sleeved shirt. Not that it mattered.

"I've been the world's biggest bitch since my physics test."

He shrugged. "Everyone's entitled to an off day."

I sat up, looping one of my legs around his and letting the left one dangle off the bed. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I get to take it out on everyone I come across. Which I did. All damn day."

"She still speaking to you?"

The Sasha reference threw me a little. "Yeah."

"No problem, then."

Did he eat a bowl of stupid for breakfast today? "Uh, not the way it works."

Murph snorted. "Have you heard the saying that those that matter don't mind, and those that mind don't matter?"

It was a Facebook bumper sticker. Course I knew it. "Yeah."

"Apply it here, then," he snapped, rubbing distractedly at his forehead.

I sucked on the inside of my cheek. "What the hell happened that upset your apple cart?"

He flushed and looked over at my desk, Rachel belting it out in the background as we lapsed into a tight silence. "Had a shouting match with my brother."

Well. That'll do it. I'd had a few of those with my sister. Izzy has the ability to make me feel incredibly small with very little effort. I could only imagine the brutality that could happen between twins. Izzy and I used to hit a point where mom would just punt us into the backyard and tell us to fix it without a trip to the ER.

"I haven't told our parents yet," he said softly, head thunking sideways against the wall. "I mean, our dad knows, but Ma? I haven't told her yet." He looked at me helplessly and then away again. "And he let me know that wasn't fair to you. Wasn't fair to you and Ma, and told me to get my head out of my ass." He nudged my thigh with argyle-clad toes. "Also told me that if I was going to run around in your sweatshirt to at least change my status."

"We can fix that." My own conscience was gnawing at my belly.

"Ollie?"

I chewed my lower lip as I looked at him. He gave me a slightly hairy eyeball and then snorted. "You haven't told yours either, have you?"

"My mom knows. I haven't told my dad. Yet." I was going to tell him. Just maybe not in front of Murph so that whatever he said in response wouldn't embarrass the boy. Or me.

And I definitely wasn't going to tell Murph that my dad had been hunting for years and owned multiple shotguns. Not that he'd actually shoot my boyfriend...

He chuckled. "We're a pair, aren't we?"

That we were.

"How did your physics test really go?"

I fell back onto the mattress with a thump, glad for my flexibility. "It sucked. Plain and simple."

"Did they let you have anything?"

It was my turn to snort. "A calculator and one side of a three by five index card with whatever you could fit." Which wasn't much when you panicked and tried to squeeze everything in your notebook onto that tiny space.

Not the point, probably, though that was how I'd used it. I curled on my side, facing the computer, suddenly dying for a cookie with frosting.

"Hey, Murph?"

"Hey what?"

"Wanna go to Wegman's?"

The comforter rustled. "Now?"

"Yeah." I rooted for my phone and clicked the side to light up the front screen. "It's only ten-fifteen."

"Liam has the car in Medbury."

Not that I think about it, I'm not entirely sure Murph knew I had a car. Of if he did, which hunk of metal in the parking lot was mine.

"I'll drive." Never mind that I looked more ready to go to bed than on an errand, barefoot and still somewhat grumpy. Didn't care, since I was going to wind up with a cookie.

"Alright." He untangled his legs and slid off the bed. I dismounted sloppily and pulled on the nearest sweatshirt before stuffing my feet into sneakers sans socks. Murph slipped on his own shoes - his dress ones - and followed me out the door once I'd grabbed both my Vera and the Brine lanyard. I had two sets of keys - my car keys, house key, and stuff like that, and the keys to my building and room.

We held hands on the way to the parking lot; I had to remember where I'd parked my Oldsmobile. Oh, look. Between an Audi and a new Honda. Fabulous.

"Murphy, meet Fred." Yes, I'd named my Oldsmobile. What of it?

Murph looked at me over the roof of the car, expression unreadable, and trying not to smile as I unlocked the doors. Fred was in a generous mood tonight, starting on the first try. Murph had some issues with the seat belt - everyone did - and reached for the radio as I backed out of the parking space.

Country flared immediately through the only functioning speaker on the passenger side.

I glanced at him as we sat at a stop sign waiting for a gaggle of girls to cross. Where the hell they were going on a Wednesday night was beyond me. "Yes?"

"No idea." He leaned back, stretching his legs out as best he could. He might have tried to look like country wasn't his thing, but I caught him bobbing his head to Rascal Flatt's Summer Nights and couldn't help but chuckle. He flicked my elbow where it rested on the middle console - as I have a habit of driving one handed - and I outright laughed.

"Only for you, Ol," he said as we pulled into the Wegman's parking lot. "Only for you will I listen to country."

"I know."

It was natural for me to park my car, lock it, and sucker myself to Murph's side on the walk into the store. They'd already started setting out the Halloween stuff even though it was a couple of weeks until the big night.

We bee-lined for the cookies, and I untucked my hands from the sweatshirt cuffs to sort through what was left of the cookies-by-the-pound.

"Ladybug or butterfly?"

Murph mulled it over like I'd asked him to recite the English monarchs. He could do it, too, though he'd sometimes flip the Stuarts and Tudors on accident. I could easily do the equivalent with the periodic table.

"Butterfly," he said, looking over my shoulder in such a way as to have my back flush to his chest. Feeling anything but comfortable would have been a waste of time and energy. "Blue, please."

I handed the cookie over my shoulder and snagged one of the ladybugs with the hand he hadn't claimed, feeling a little lighter.

Every day wasn't always going to be rainbows and sunshine. Contrary to popular belief, life wasn't a Disney movie set to a Taylor Swift album. Things - like physics tests - happened. And I gave Murph credit as most people would have taken one look at the foul mood I'd been in and come back when I'd re-entered Earth's atmosphere and suitably mellowed out.

Murph, though? Murph was either fearless or stupid when it came to me. He could weather me. And there he went again, makin' my heart hurt because of it.

I was going to attempt to be a lady and wait until I got back to our building to inhale my cookie, and therefore almost missed Murph attempting to rip his fingers off on a locked door handle since I was more focused on other things.

Keys. Right. Concentrate.

Considering I wasn't wearing legit pants, rummaging through pockets I didn't have would be fairly stupid. They weren't in the kangaroo pocket, they weren't around my neck...

"Shit," I breathed, tossing my plastic-wrapped cookie onto the hood so I could cup my hands around my face to see in the window. There, barely visible in the yellow fluorescent light, was the Brine lanyard hanging from the ignition. "Um..."

"Tell me there's a spare key in your room."

"There's a spare key in my room." We looked at each other over the roof of the car. "Seriously, there is." And since he was looking appropriately skeptical. "Really."

He held his hands up, butterfly cooking dangling by its cellophane sleeve. "Okay. So do we walk or catch the trolley?"

A flash of green and gold by the traffic light at the other end of the parking lot - head-level with Murph - caught my eye. "That trolley?"

Murph didn't even turn around. Instead, he walked to the trunk and held out his arm in a very gentlemanly way with a flourish. "Shall we?"

I have a faux curtsy before I threaded my arm through his. "Let's."

We set off more like a two-man marching band than a romantic moonlight stroll. But that's more our style, anyway.

Musically Inclined

Sometimes when I'm getting around in the morning - or afternoon, depending on the day - I like to put on music. Usually from YouTube so I can look at the videos, too, if I'm getting dressed. Makes me feel like I'm at home or in Geneva watching CMT in the morning to get ready, because, well, that's what I do. I like to more or less dance around my room in the morning. Puts me in a good mood.

I was looking for Sara Bareilles's King of Anything and found this instead. I have no idea who they are, but for an a cappella group, they're pretty good. And they're young, too. Reminds me of watching The Sing Off, in a way.

Anyway, long story short, I thought I'd share this with you. I liked it, and figured that one of my followers or lurkers (I know you're out there, I can feel you, and if that's not creepy I don't know what is) might like it, too.

Happy Friday.

Things to Know: International Edition V

- The very large London recap post is in its way, along with an An Adventuring Focus post, too, because, well, we all that know that when I have both my Focus and my sister's, they can't ever behave themselves appropriately.

- I've made my schedule for next semester; the way it looks at the moment is that Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays will be stuffed until early afternoon, and depending on which fourth class I take, I just might either have only one class on Tuesdays or have that day completely off with a class on Thursdays.

- I think I can roll with that.

- I'm going to be the only junior in the intro Geoscience course.

- Can also roll with that.

- Should be a way to make new friends, gather some more readership maybe, and definitely recruit for martini.

- I've missed a bit of drama on campus - namely, the student governments bailing out The Herald because they seem to have under-proposed from BAC and might have to print fewer editions.

- And did I mention that they reflect nicely on the colleges?

- This isn't going to be pretty.

- I need to desperately go grocery shopping.

- That's actually where I'm going after I do this post, take a shower, make a list, gather my bags, and hike towards town.

- I also need to do laundry, mostly because I don't have any socks left.

- My mother arrives on Sunday for a week.

- This is very exciting; she's going to stay in town and we'll go off gallyvanting and such.

- The only issue is that I need to register for spring semester classes at high noon (my time) on Wednesday, so we kind of need to be here for that.

- I wrote about eight more pages in the novel, have the urge to write more, and really want to get this thing done.

- Maybe before the end of November, as that's when National Novel Writing Months ends.

- Which, if you missed the previous post, I'm not doing this year because I'd rather finish/work on something that I've already got started than start something I might not finish.

- If someone tells me one more time to chop that second to last paragraph on Murphy and Me to make it shorter, I'm going to tell them they need to go back to reading picture books and coloring with crayons - pull on your big boy pants, suck it up, and read it.

- If these kids are all in high school, aren't they reading textbooks, too? And textbooks, last I knew, had long paragraphs in them with not very many pictures the higher up in school you got.

- Oh, I feel like ranting. Maybe a little raving.

- And, in all seriousness, doing a post titled The Things I Learned in High School is getting more and more appealing by the day.

Inside Screaming

It's been a while since I've been frustrated enough to want to scream obscenities at the sky and stamp my feet like a three-year-old. I mean, it's been a good thirteen, fourteen years since I've wanted to do that, but dear God in heaven was I ready to carry on like someone had taken away every holiday that had ever existed this afternoon.

Working with kids is a test of patience. Granted, I have more than my fair share especially when dealing with other people's children, but I'm no saint. My buttons can be pressed just as regularly and as easily as everyone else's. Which was why when I got back to the flat this afternoon for my lunch hour, I was already kind of tired and more than a little frustrated at trying to get particularly unmotivated children to do what they were supposed to be doing. Especially the ones that have their own agenda and would rather you piss off so they can continue doing as they were doing.

That I can deal with, and I was really glad that I was going back to the relative quietness that was my flat on a weekday. Even that stench that accompanies a wet wool coat didn't really bug me yet, and generally it makes me think I stink.

I decided I was going to have pancakes for lunch. Odd, I know, but this is me we're talking about. That and I really didn't want to eat the plain rice from last night because it was the only thing that I really had available. That and maybe a bowl of oatmeal, Tesco brand frosted flakes, and whatever else I could rustle up that didn't involve either bread or tortilla wraps. Or the minced beef in the fridge that accidentally got left out the other night when I made dirty rice. Eating that just might kill me and I haven't been brave enough to bring it out of the freezer yet and do something with it.

Anyhoo, here I am in the kitchen mowing my way through one pancake while the other one - slightly massive because I'm using the rest of the batter so I don't waste food - and we're just generally having kitchen conversation. So, I take my frying pan off the heat, go to get myself a glass of milk, and hear one of my flat mate's saying, "You're not leaving that there, eh?"

Slightly confused, I look to where he's pointing - my batter bowl. Now, I had every intention of at least rinsing it. I nearly always do when it's not my day to do the dishes because I figure that helps the people who's day it is. And I'm just staring at him, like, RUFKM? And he's completely serious as he tells me to wash it because otherwise it's going to be a mess.

Hold the phone. Today is not my day to do the dishes. Today is actually his day.

And believe me, the amount of shit that I have washed out of various pots and pans in that kitchen has been incredible. Including his dirty dishes, which, he will just leave there.

But no. I'm told to that before I can leave - unless I want to wear the rest of that batter on the inside of that bowl - it needs to be washed. Not by him, who's day it is, but by me.

Very rarely have I wanted to lay into someone so badly for something so trivial. Yes, I recognize that it's just dishes. Though I will say this; this is the same guy that was foolin' around in the kitchen, sliced his toe open on something by stepping on the bin bag, and then refused to clean up his own blood smears on the kitchen floor because it wasn't his day. Two guesses as to who's day it was to clean the kitchen.

Mine.

That kitchen effin' sparkled when I was done, mostly because I was incredibly pissed off, homesick, and generally needed to calm the hell down. So I cleaned.

So I go back to school, try to leave everything at the door, and every one of my kids seems determined to step either on my last nerve or push every button I possess like a fancy elevator.

I'm pretty damn near the edge and ready to snap. And it's going to be anything but pretty when it happens.

NaNo No-No

If you couldn't tell from the title - and the thread that probably got buried in the boards over on that site that I happen to frequent concerning writers - I'm not partaking of National Novel Writing Month this year.

For more than one reason.

First and foremost, I really need to finish something that I've started writing. Whether it be a simple ficlet of some kind, or I get the gumption (and get over whatever the hell has been holding me back for the past ten months) and finish my novel or work out a clear direction of where Murphy and Me is going (which would be fabulous, too), I really need to finish something. So the idea that's kicking around in my head about the magics, mages, shape-shifters, fae, and all that good stuff? Well, I have some business I need to take care of before I can even think about opening that can of worms.

Note I said nothing about planning. I don't plan. I write. One of them little quirks of mine.

Am I going to change my mind about NaNo in a couple of days? Not likely. I really do need to finish something, if for no other reason than to say that I finished something. Most likely not going to be Murphy and Me at the present time, but maybe that damn novel I've been writing for six years. Maybe it's time to really close that sucker. Close it, look it over, contemplate, and think about actually sitting down and writing the sequel or maybe trying to get that published. Who knows. I really don't, and I"m the one writing the damn thing.

So, that's my plan of action for the next month. Good luck to all of you actually doing NaNo this year, and to those who aren't brave enough or have other reasons - like me - that you're skipping: Power to you for following your own mind.

[The giant London post is coming relatively soon. Promise.]