I hate shopping.  Especially when it’s with my family.  That sounds so awful of me to say, but unless my dad is there to act as a buffer, shopping with my mother and sister drives me freaking crazy. 

Today I got dragged into it, largely because we were out running around to begin with and it seemed like a good idea to try and talk my sister into spending some of her gift card money at the same time.  Old Navy went fine, and with a little advice I managed to pick out two shirts that I liked and that no one else found terribly ugly.  TJMaxx, however, was where things went slightly to hell.  For those of you who don’t shop there, you always look on clearance, and your chances of finding anything are about fifty percent, regardless of when you go.  
So my mom and sister and I are looking for stuff, and we each found one or two things apiece.  In the dressing rooms we’re in the process of trying stuff on.  Of the two things I picked, one didn’t fit, and the other was not liked by my mother.  I forget how exactly we got to this point, but I was giving my mom and sister crap for vetoing this really nice pair of pants, and telling them that they’re both too picky when it comes to shopping.  Fair assessment, if you know them.  My sister’s response?  "We look good because we care about what we buy."

Read the implication in that statement please.  Try and tell me it wasn’t a diss, regardless of how she intended it.  Whatever the reason, I got quite upset and left the dressing room to go stand outside.  It probably wouldn’t have mattered so much if I hadn’t already been feeling not so great about myself as it was.  That little comment though really upset me.  

For those of you who are wondering why I care what my mom and sister think, I’ll explain.  If I pick out something that doesn’t appeal to them at all, they will nag me about it or mention it maybe half the times I wear that item of clothing.  After a while I get so sick of it that I start placating them to keep them off my back.  (Besides, they know more about fashion than I do.  Usually I bow to their judgement.)  

Seriously though, this is why I have a hard time considering myself pretty, at least on certain days.  Even hearing it over and over doesn’t wipe out entirely the way I think about myself sometimes.     



Phone Calls

What makes waiting for them so difficult?  Maybe it’s the waiting and not the prospect of the actual call itself. 

Case in point:  I am still waiting for a phone call from the agent, even though I’ve already received some information from him.  I mean, I basically know what he’s going to say, but I still want to hear it from him and get the few questions I have answered.  (Ellen actually came up with questions??  I know, I know, you’re all in shock.)  And it’s driving me crazy to turn my phone on every day and wait until six o’clock or so before I give up hope of a phone call coming.  

Side note:  maybe I’m not as patient as I thought I was.  

On the other hand, surprise phone calls, particularly from people I haven’t spoken with via phone in some time, make me very happy.  I received one Tuesday from someone I was honestly not expecting a phone call from, and I ended up talking to that person for nearly an hour and a half.  My mom actually commented later that I spent the rest of the day in a perpetual good mood because of that one phone call.  Weird.  

I highly doubt that will be the case after I hear from the agent, but at least by that point I’ll know what I’ve been wanting to know.  And hopefully, I’ll be able to move forward with my novel in some way like I’ve always wanted to.   

Spring Break and Other Things

Well, I’m finally on my Spring Break catching a much needed rest.  Because this is college, I still have homework to do, which doesn’t make me happy but what can you do?  I’m at work right now, which means I have four hours ahead of me during which to do homework and catch up on other things, barring the arrival of any customers of course.  So far it has been completely non-busy, and I’m hoping that trend continues. 

My little sister’s family birthday party is today.  Should be a good time once we finish the cleaning my mother thinks our house requires in preparation for any social gathering.  Hopefully the grandparents, aunts, and uncles actually managed to find gifts for her since she is notoriously close-mouthed about what she wants.  On a personal level, I’m expecting an interogation of sorts about my second semester and even more so about my relationship.  (Since my mother just informed me that everyone in our family knows.  *facepalms*)  

I finally heard some stuff from the literary agent, but I’m still waiting to speak to him in person.  Basically he said that I’m a talented writer, but that the idea is a younger person idea, which makes sense because I started writing it when I was sixteen.  Now I just need to hear from him regarding what he thinks I should do with this particular project next.  Then I can be at least somewhat satisfied, even though publishing might be out of the question for now.   

Real Life Lit

Have any of you ever read a book more than once and had a completely different perspective on it the second (or third, or fourth, or fifth) time around?  Because that is currently happening to me right now.  I am in the process of re-reading The Last Summer (of You and Me) instead of The Odyssey or Mists of Avalon.   Both of which are excellent books, by the way.  I’m just not in the mood to read them right now.  

Anyway, The Last Summer is a book about relationships, of the romantic, familial, and friendly variety.  However, I am at the part of the book that deals largely with romance, and I’m getting a totally different feeling from it.  I’m not sure how exactly to explain, but it’s like the words I used to like for their flow and the story they were telling are suddenly speaking to me on a more personal level than before.  Maybe it’s because of the relationship I’m in, or the fact that my mindset is different now than it was from the last time I read this book, but I feel as though I’m getting so much more out of the story than I was.  Which is interesting but not at all unpleasant.    

Mary-Sue Test (Hilarious)

I was checking my friends’ page when I realized that someone in one of the communities I watch had posted a link to a test that supposedly determines whether your central character is a Mary Sue or not.  Being naturally curious about this, I decided to take the test using the main character of my novel. 

I’ll admit to being marginally worried about this, as I wonder sometimes if my character’s flaws, which can be subtle at times, come across on the page.  Anyway, I typed in the name and went to work checking all the boxes that applied.  The first page had me pulling an "oh crap" to myself, as it was all about cases of author inserting self into character.  Which I am guilty of at times because I figured that the first novel I wrote would be easier to write if I didn’t have to research everything my main character did.  As the test got progressively more ridiculous in terms of options available, I checked fewer and fewer boxes.  

My answer turned out to be something along the lines of, "Your character is like you, but not in a bad way.  She is still capable of standing on her own without any silly drama or depressing back story to make her seem more interesting.  Congratulations and keep up the good work."  

In other words, thank you God.  Finding out that I had to go back and do more editing before I’ve even heard back from the agent would have been incredibly depressing.    

A Brief Note

In spite of the fact that I’m probably more tired now than I was when the weekend started, I’m having a good time.  Sorry for falling asleep on you girls the other night, but as I should be seeing you shortly, I should have a chance to make it up to you both. 

Interruption:  Midterms are still going on, and will until our Spring Break two weeks from now.  This prospect and the studying it comes attached with, doesn’t excite me at all.  That means we only have about three weeks between midterms and the time finals prep actually begins.  This would make me a lot more unhappy than it does if it didn’t mean that summer is just around the corner after that.