Random Channel Surfing

Not because I'm preggers or anything, but because I need to come up with better names for my characters than Molly, Andrew and Melanie. I already picked out my kids' names, actually. Girls Anne Maya Jane Amélie Boys Diego Lucas Hector Antonio Funny how the boy names are very "Hispanic" and the girl names are more diverse :P

I think I need a new job. Or at least something more creative and stimulating. I love editing and really enjoy solving the riddles the writers leave for us; slowly piecing together all the puzzle pieces and rearranging them so that the message is clear and concise. But I haven't written my own stuff in such a long time. I'm starting to think I might never write my own material if I don't find a writing job. But looking for a new/other job feels like I'd be starting from scratch. I don't want that. It scares me and I'm a chicken.

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Whenever I log onto Facebook, I'm overcome by the urge to delete my profile. There really isn't any reason why I stay on that site; it's not like I talk to anyone. Really, the only time I log on is when Tamara tells me she's posted something new on my wall. Having said that, I present you with my thoughts on the most un-hip of social media. The thoughts from a facebook apathist, if you will. (Apathist is not a word, I know, but I'm apathetic about facebook, hence the title... get it? Yeah, I'm not clever, but I've never claimed I was...) Maybe it's because I'm addicted to tumblr or because I figure if I want to stay in touch with people, I'll text or email or go see them. I'm not big on the technology and clutter and hassle of facebook. ... There's also the whole "stalking" part of it, too. That unavoidable urge to look up past loves and friends. It's just so... invasive and creepy and, try as I might, I still want to look t

I'm planning my book. Like, actually sitting down with pen and paper - or laptop, actually, in my case - and jotting down ideas and characteristics. It's oddly scary. And oddly exhilarating. But mostly scary. The odds of me continuing this "planning stage" and actually writing said book are fairly slim, since I'm chicken-shit, but I've decided that I should at least try. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?

She used to hate the Killers. Something about Brandon Flowers and his eye makeup would make her cringe inwardly. She'd smile politely when people would talk about how "epic" their sound was, would nod her head when people would go on and on about how "life-changing" their music was. But when they would ask for her opinion, she would be blunt: "they're overrated." So it came as no surprise to her, really, when it turned out that he - the first boy who'd nudged the dormant butterflies in her tummy awake with his smiles and his laugh and his jokes and him - was a fan. He'd gaped at her upon hearing her real opinion about the Killers. It wasn't that she's a snob , really. Okay. Yeah. She was. Is. Whatever. She is pretty snobby about the music she listens to. Looks down on anyone, really, who has less-than stellar taste in music. But that all changed when she fell in love with him . She couldn't think less of him if