Nanowrimo 2012

It's that time of year again. I'm participating in National Novel Writing Month, otherwise known as Nanowrimo. During the month of November, I will be attempting to write a 50,000-word novel in 30 days. It's my 7th year participating. Lucky seven, I hope!

If any of you want to be writing buddies, I would love to join you in the insanity. My username is Rhov.

If you have a novel you want to work on and think a competition like this is a good excuse to focus on it, it's not too late to join in. It's lots of fun, especially if you get really involved, meet up with local writers at write-ins, and make acquaintance with the people in your region through the forums. Sometimes I write so much in the forums that I get too distracted from my novel.

So please excuse me as I take a break from writing fanfiction during this month. Random one-shots might spring out from my over-worked Muse, but otherwise my life is focused around my novel. It's called Trombones Are Blue, about a girl with synesthesia, a condition I have where I hear colors and see sounds. In my story, her way of experiencing the world causes her to be bullied and outcast. Still, she struggles on and in defiance of the kaleidoscopic chaos, she joins the school band. Although petite, she wants to play the trombone (which I play) because "trombones are blue."


Rough concept of a book cover.

Wedding Bells Still Ringing

Today is my wedding anniversary.

Seven years of bliss, rarely an argument, never a fight, and we have never spent more than 24 hours apart in those seven years. Instead of that being annoying, we both get a small sense of dread when it seems like one of us might be sent away for training, conferences, or family business. We still sleep in the same bed, we grab each others' butts when we pass one another in the kitchen, we cutely hold hands while walking together, and I still blush if he kisses me in public.

"Seven year itch?" We have our own cure. LOVE!

(And the honeymoon ain't over, folks!)

We Can't Forget

I clearly remember this day, 2001. I was in college, and I had just left tutoring in the math department (I suck at math). I went outside, called my boyfriend (now husband) up on the cellphone, told him I was done, I was free until afternoon, and maybe we could get lunch. That was when he told me. I remember I had been merrily walking down the broad staircase from that math building, feeling cheery, when his voice came over the phone pitched higher than usual. "They've flown planes into the World Trade Center," he cried out in a panic. "The Pentagon's been hit too. They think there are other planes going to crash into places. It's World War Three!" he screamed, perhaps exaggerating, but I could hear he was terrified.

I stopped dead in my tracks in the middle of that broad stairway. I almost stumbled and fell as my head plummeted and the world seemed to tilt off its axis. "...That's not funny."

"Babe...this is no joke. Have you really not heard the news?"

I had noticed crowds around the computers in the math lab, but I thought it was some new program a geek wrote. Standing on those stairs, and I had a good view of the area. Only then did I notice groups huddled and crying, people wandering aimlessly with empty eyes, and pale faces looking stunned beyond the ability to think.>

"...The Pentagon?" I asked in a quavering voice.

Face it, before 9/11 the idea of flying planes into the Twin Towers was not unknown. It was a plot device used in movies and TV shows. I assure you, you will NEVER see those episodes on the air again!

So for those of us at the time, it seemed...stereotypical! Too "Hollywood" to really be happening.

But the Pentagon! At hearing about the WTC, I truly thought he was joking, but that...that's serious shit. You don't mess with the goddamn Pentagon!

"Honey, I'm picking you up. Classes will likely be cancelled anyway. They're talking about suicide bombers on buses and trains. I don't want you on that city bus. Stay on campus. I'm on my way. NOW!"

Suddenly, I joined the ranks of blank-eyed students. I wandered toward the parking lot and tried to process this information. Most of you seeing this were too young. You heard about 9/11 in school history class. Maybe...maaaybe you sort of remember your parents speaking in hushed voices. It's "history" to you.

But on that day, it felt like there would be no future. Time stopped. Our lives stopped. Airplanes grounded, trains stopped, schools closed, no one left their homes. For the next few days, people feared all-out war.

I went to my boyfriend's place just in time to see the Towers collapse. I'm a writer, and I honestly can't describe the chill and numbed disbelief that hit us all when we saw that. The scene has been replayed so much, younger people are immune to it, but when we saw it the first time.....

I would say we all prayed. All of us. Either to God, Allah, Buddha, a goddess, a higher power, or to that which we didn't believe in before that day... we all cried out in anguish for this to not be true, to wake up, to let this horrific nightmare stop...just STOP... please God, don't let any more people die!

And then the other Tower fell. Our prayers were not answered. There was no Superman or Captain America to save us that day. We were abandoned, left to fight this tragedy on our own. We realized how childish our country can be, sitting by our TVs as we watch the chaos in "other countries" and shrugging that it wasn't affecting us, so why worry. That day, the eyes of the world were on us, and we felt like the child-country we really are. Hell visited America that day, and we were watching the flames burn away our innocence.

I truly don't remember the rest of that day. It was a Tuesday, like today. My boyfriend drove me home. The freeways were empty for once. At home, my sister was in hysterics. She had been on a business call with someone in the Towers when the first plane struck, and she realized that the man likely died on impact. A friend lived in NYC across the river; he witnessed the whole thing and was helping to shelter survivors who fled over the bridge on foot. A cousin lived mere blocks away from the WTC, and we were terrified for her (she was safe, thankfully). I didn't go to school the next day. I got a call from the dean's office that the college would be closed all week. Like I said, time stopped, and all of America was waiting, left hanging, frightened at what more would strike us.

I think NOT having anything else happen was stressful too. We were waiting, expecting it. We were loading our guns, those same guns the government had been trying to take from us. If terrorists were coming to American shores, by God we would meet them head on and send them to Hell!

Nothing happened. We mourned. We heard stories of heroes. We wondered "who did this to us" and not knowing who to blame, who to punish, who to direct our collective RAGE toward was frustrating too. There was an enemy out there, and we didn't know WHO! Despite the uncertainties that hung in the air over the following days and weeks, America united unlike it had ever done in decades, probably since World War II. Flags waved from every car. People wore black bands around their arms (I still have mine). Bands played "America the Beautiful" to start every concert. For the first time in my life, I saw what it meant to be the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

"United" indeed!

If you live in America, you'll see lots of "Never Forget" signs today, but for those of us old enough to have truly lived through it, forgetting is impossible. Even when we sometimes want to...we can't! That bloody, fiery day of death and destruction, when terrorists thought they could rip out the very heart of America, indeed left a scar on our hearts.

But you know what? Scars make us stronger. Scars remind us.
We CAN'T forget!

America Needs An Enemy

I wrote this to a friend in China, so I thought I'd repost it here.

I think America feels it needs an enemy, doesn't matter who or what. This is just my opinion, but when you look through American history, that's how we always are.

The British were the enemies, and we broke away from English rule. Then Native Americans were all enemies, so White people massacred them and stole their lands. Then the Mexicans were enemies and we stole half of Mexico from them (most Americans don't realize this).

Then when we couldn't find anyone to hate, we hated ourselves, and the Civil War between North and South broke out. It wasn't originally over slavery like schools teach, but they were fighting because the South didn't want to be part of America anymore due to economic reasons.

Then it was any immigrant, like when famine drove the Irish to flee to America in droves, people despised all Irish and wouldn't give them jobs, then it was Jewish people fleeing Russia and coming in boatloads to America.

Then we had the two World Wars and we had a real enemy. Hate Germans! Hate Nazis! Hate Japanese!

Then the Cold War and it was Russia who was the enemy, and any Communist sympathizer was certainly a spy! Then Korea, then Vietnam for no other reason than they supported Russia. Really stupid wars!

Then Russia was our friend and people wanted something else to be the enemy, so we went back to hating immigrants, mostly Mexicans. Now it's Islamic extremists, and America's raring to go to war with anyone, even countries that have little to do with the attack on 9-11. Now it seems that's all cleared up, and people are looking at warlords in Africa, or threats from North Korea, anything!

We're willing to turn anyone, even ourselves, into enemies. Blacks versus Whites! Republicans versus Democrats! North versus South! Perhaps it's because we're a competitive society. We love ball games because we can cheer on our team. You can't like both the Yankees and the Dodgers in baseball, and if you cheer for both teams, you're a traitor to each. We're driven by seeing things in black and white, enemies and allies, right and wrong, good and evil. Those who appease to both sides, toe the line, sit on the fence, are seen as weak.

America needs an enemy! We love having a superhero who saves the day. We thrive when we can pretend we're the good guy, the hero, Captain America fighting evil around the world! And it doesn't matter what we deem to be "evil."

Trombones Are Blue: A Loud Look Into Synesthesia

An A is red.
It'll always be red.
That's what they said.
But at least for me
It's just an A I see.
That's what's in my head.
"It's not that form of synesthesia," I said.

Yet play on a horn or a violin
And suddenly the fireworks begin.
The A is orange, B-flat always yellow
Unless it is played by a tuba fellow.
Then it turns into purplish-green.
At least that's what I've seen.

My trombone is blue,
My favorite hue,
That's why I love to play an F.
For F is blue too
And when blue meets blue,
All is at peace in the bass clef.

In band, it's a kaleidoscope,
A tripping-out rainbow of hope
Smothering me in crayon-chaos cacophony.
At each rehearsal, I drown in the anomaly.
Each instrument is a hue that colors each note,
Like Skittles bubbling out of a singer's throat.

Birdsong is yellow, forests are blue.
(Don't let the green leaves fool you!)
So when birds fill the woody scene,
It all turns into brilliant green
Like the leaves in the trees,
And I hear a clarinet in the breeze.

They say my world is unique,
But it seems all so bleak
To imagine autumn not being brassy
Or red not sounding classy.
I see and hear the world differently than you,
And in my world, trombones are blue.

Losing is Sometimes Good

I've been on a bit of a forced diet: i.e. had my teeth yanked and still on mostly soft foods. I'm back to my normal eating more or less. I wouldn't say I can chew a thick steak, but chicken and pastas are about what I eat normally anyway.

I had to be weighed before the surgery. 162. I know, never ask a girl her weight, and I'm not happy with that weight. I was up to 170 just after the winter holidays, so it's slowly going down...slowly...too damn slowly! So now, 162... it's within normal range for my height and body-frame, but of course I don't want to be hugging that upper number. I want to be normal, maybe even a tad thin.

When wearing clothes, I don't look fat. My height covers up the chubbiness. I'm the tallest girl of all my friends, big-boned too (no, really, my bones are big and my shoulders are broad). My friends all tell me how I haven't gained weight since high school. How wrong they are! I was 120 and considered "severely underweight" for my body size. The lack of fat around my vital organs was causing medical problems. An emergency high-fat diet was ordered by a nutritionist. I probably didn't need it. College packed the pounds on for me quite nicely. Between having a doctor order my mother to put butter on everything she gave me, and then ending up with a diet made mostly of vending machine food and high-octane sodas, those pounds never came off. I needn't worry about low-fat-ratios anymore. Put me in a bathing suit and the cellulite is like some monster in a horror movie ready to jiggle its way into leveling Tokyo.

What they removed in my operation was far under a pound, although I felt like I bled a gallon. Ugh! The diet was a good idea, I figured. Maybe eating less would balance out the fact that I was stuck in bed and couldn't go out on my usual walks due to severe anemia.

It was a little better than that.

I recently weighed myself again. 157. That might not seem like much, but that's the first time I've been under 160 since getting married. That's 5 pounds I've lost in 2 weeks. That's FIVE POUNDS I lost while sitting on my ass and doing next to nothing. No exercising, no walks, I wasn't even allowed to bend over lest I start hemorrhaging.

Best of all, I find myself simply not hungry. I may eat two meals a day...maybe. Sometimes coffee and a yogurt are more than enough to get my through until dinner. It's not that I'm starving myself. My stomach simply shrank. I eat less food and less frequently. Chinese takeout, which I used to scarf down in no time, now lasts for two meals. The fact that I have to eat so slowly due to surgery in my mouth and face helps as well.

I can't wait to see how my weight continues to drop as I'm finally able to add in my hikes through the hills into this new eating style.

Denture Adventure Part 10

I skipped Sunday, simply because I wanted to end on a round number.

I went to the dentist. She was impressed that my gums have healed up so fast. for only 11 days after having 13 teeth removed, she said she's never seen someone heal so fast. She adjusted the dentures where I said they hurt worst, over the canker sore and where they did the frenulectomy. I think she shaved down the front part too much. If I grin big, you can see the divot. However, it feels so much better now. Just a little adjustment was all I needed. I asked about it stretching my upper lip too much, but that's something her office can't adjust. Basically, I have to put up with feeling like I have "monkey mouth" until the 6 month realignment. By then, my gums should have shrunk enough so that the dentures can be narrowed and the gums thinned down.

She also gave me Poligrip to hold it in place. These dentures fit so tight, I don't think I need it. When I took them out tonight, I discovered that denture adhesive is a really gross thing. Despite vigorous brushing, the goop did not want to leave my mouth. I had to scrape it off with my fingernail, something I don't want to do again until my mouth fully heals. I've also come to realize that the massive bloodclot that I thought was on the underside of my denture the first time I removed it was likely actually denture bonding goop...mixed with blood...really nasty just remembering what that looked like.

I bought some ointment for canker sores. I had to watch out that it did not have the killer benzocaine in it, but I found a good herbal brand. So hopefully that will help. I plan to show up to band tomorrow. I tried to play just a little. Obviously I won't be able to just pick up the trombone and play the blues, but it wasn't as horrendous as I feared. My low range is fine, the upper range is surprisingly good (I think because my upper lip is stretched) but the mid-range is really unstable. The pain in the front of my lip will be the biggest hurdle.

I may write one more "Denture Adventure" after a month or so. For now, eating soft food and just healing is all I need.