It's the last day of the month, and I guess that should make me all introspective (or retrospective). Sure, I could've done better in the month of March, as far as my goals went, but I could also have done a hell of a lot worse. Keep that in mind, the next time you set goals that seem smart one day and seem supremely dumb a few days later.
At the library now. I need to write, but I just don't want to. Having finished another project, my options are either: 1) Make revisions on that project (which I did yesterday), 2) Pick up a story in progress and work on that, or 3) Start on a brand new project.
I guess there's always the fourth option of 4) Surf the internet instead.
The sky's the limit in what I could do next, but instead of being freeing, it feels like a bit of a high-pressure decision, because I have to do it right now, or I've come to the library for nothing.
Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In March: 3279
My mom gave me this thing last Christmas (gosh, it might have been Christmas 2019, but I found it in January 2021) that you're supposed to put in your wallet to prevent evildoers from stealing your identity. I don't know if it works or not, but I put it in my wallet so I didn't have to feel guilty that my mom got me something and I never used it.
The problem is, every time I go into a Walgreens now, I set the alarm off at the door. Usually I will chuckle and wave, because all heads turn in my direction, and I've never had anyone give me a hard time since I'm coming INTO the store instead of exiting it.*
But today, I went to Walgreens, beeped coming in, and then needed to hit the restroom at the back of the store (it's complicated**), and as I went back there, the alarm went off again. In my paranoia, I was worried that the employees of the store would think I was a shoplifter, and that I was back there, I dunno, shoving double-A batteries into my socks and bottles of Tylenol into my pants (I can fit quite a few of them in there, if you were curious). They'd either come into the bathroom while I was "Hangin' With Mister Cooper," so to speak, or they'd be waiting outside the doors for me to come out, catching me red-handed.
I saw a single employee (a twenty-something male who looked suspiciously like the Skinny Chandler I talked about in yesterday's blog post) give me the eye when I came out (often, they'll say, "Can I help you?" which is what people in retail are trained to do when they encounter a potential shoplifter. The theory is that a thief will be hesitant to steal after interacting with an employee because they feel they could be identified or remembered. I'm not sure if it works, but I had the same training as OxyCodonMatthewPerry), but there was no confrontation, and when I exited the store itself . . . the alarm did NOT go off.
This happens a lot, but I've never felt it worth mentioning (shoot, I still don't . . . but I just Do Not Want To Write).
I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, except it does make me want to write a story where Lara Demming curses one of her classmates to set off the theft alarm of every store he goes into, just to teach him a lesson.
That reminds me: I was thinking of coming up with a word that Old Widow Holcomb uses in the "Lara" stories that refer to the people around them, those who don't have magical abilities or are aware of witches, kind of like JK Rolling used "muggles" to refer to . . . um, those who don't have magical abilities or are aware of wizards and witches. Whoops.
Gosh, what was the awful word they used in the prequel films to refer to-- Nomajes, that's what it was. Gross.
Anyway, I just thought it would be fun if Holcomb had a word like "gentiles" to refer to Lara's classmates, the people that she consider beneath her, maybe like carnival folk refer to "rubes." Honestly, I'm leaning toward "gentiles" right now, it's just such a delightful word with amusing (to me) connotations. What do you think?
Push-ups Today: 154
Push-ups In March: 3215
So, I surprised myself by grabbing the abandoned Lara/Holcomb story I started at the beginning of February, in "honor" of Valentine's Day, and writing an exchange where Lara asks the witch about Valentine's Day in her childhood, and Holcomb tells about a boy she knew who loved her. As far as Holcomb stories go, it's surprisingly light on blood-letting, and it was fun to imagine her as a thirteen or fourteen year old girl, going to a dance in town and chumming up to a boy that had nothing to offer her except his heart.
I had Lara ask what happened to the boy, and Holcomb says he died in the war. But which war would that be? Are we talking World War II? The Great War? Something else? I can't honestly remember if I ever came out and said how old Holcomb is, but I feel like I said she was just over a hundred. But this Valentine's Day get-together feels like something that would've happened in the 1880s or '90s*** and I guess that means Holcomb is more like 139 years old.
Does that work?
Words Today: 1497
Words In March: 28,219
*Yes, and because I'm white. I'll say it so you don't have to.
**Basically, from time to time, the food and liquid I consume builds up inside my body and then, almost without warning, demands to be purged. I wish it didn't happen, and I know it probably disgusts you (certainly it does me), but it hits me sometimes and I have to use the facilities of wherever I'm at. Usually, it's over quickly, I will flush the toilet, wash my hands, and continue with my day. Don't judge me too harshly please.
The weird thing is, I honestly have this hang-up about it, where I think, "I'm the only person that does this. I'm a dirty, dirty little boy." This is a thought that I have once or twice a week . . . EVERY WEEK for the past, I dunno, twenty or more years. I should see a counsellor, but I'm sure he or she would discover that's just the tip of the mental health iceberg.
***I did check, to see if that dread holiday was celebrated back in those days--fully expecting that it was developed in the 20th century as another bloody Hallmark holiday . . . but no, it was a thing, even then. It may be the worst day of the year for me, but it was a big deal even in the nineteenth century.
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