How Myo Got Her Groove Back

Yeah, it's really me. Believe it or not.

I see you there, tapping your foot, telling me I got some 'splaining to do. So here goes:

I originally stopped posting in December because I had become too busy with another project - knitting. I had been stumped for a Christmas present for Roger Mexico, and had emailed him for a list of suggestions. After I weeded through the things out of my price range (a submarine) and items that weren't sold on Amazon.com (world peace), I was left with the assertion that "dude likes socks."

Socks? SOCKS? Socks are the Christmas present that you get from your aunt Martha, the "useful" present that you try really hard to fake a smile when you open it and mumble something like, "Oh, how thoughtful," while secretly you're thinking, "I asked for a Playstation 2." There was no way in hell I was going to give him something as impersonal as socks.

And then Zappagirl pointed out that if the socks were handknit, they were a thoughtful and personal gift.


Myopic: Well, that's all fine and good except that it's December 5th and I don't know how to knit socks.

Zappagirl: I could teach you. We could start right now.

Myopic: It's 9:30 at night.

Zappagirl: I have the keys to the yarn shop.

Myopic: And that's a scary scary thing. It's like giving a crystal meth addict the keys to the lab.

Zappagirl: Ha. So, are we doing this or what?

Myopic: You're just recruiting for your cult, aren't you? Two more inductees and you get special needles or something, right?

Zappagirl: Nah, I get a toaster. Get in the car, would you?

So off to the yarn shop we went, where we selected yarn of the proper weight and color (a neutral beige with flecks of blue and olive drab). She knit the first cuff and set me loose. And for the next month, I spent every spare moment of my time knitting socks. I didn't manage to get them done in time for Christmas, but did get them in the mail in early January. For a first effort, I was rather proud of them. And Roger Mexico liked them, which was the most important thing.

In the midst of this knitting fest, I had an unfortunate mental setback that was amplified greatly by copious amounts of red wine. In the process of all this, I lost my job. Now the last thing that a person who is already feeling like she's the biggest loser on the planet needs is to suddenly be unemployed. Right before Christmas. During a recession.

Much crying ensued. I spent a lot of time speculating about spending the winter living in a cardboard box. Thankfully I have the best friends and family ever, and they have made sure that I am properly fed and still have a place to live, and have tried to keep me from getting too depressed about things. Bless you guys. You all rock so much.

I've been looking into jobs, but haven't found anything yet. I'm in the process of trying to get a temp job at the IRS, but it's slow going. After following all of the proper procedures to get hired, tax season will be over. It's frustrating, but I really am trying to keep my chin up.

And with all of this newfound freetime, I've been doing things I've been meaning to do for a while. I'm actually using other kitchen utensils besides the microwave oven and the coffee maker. I made a pan of brownies the other day. In an attempt to eat healthier, I've been making smoothies for breakfast. I've cut back considerably on my caffeine consumption. I've been catching up on my sleep. I've been inviting friends over to watch movies. I've spent lots of quality time with my kittie. I helped my mom paint stencils in my nieces' playcorner. And I've been writing.

After only getting just over 28,000 words completed for the NaNoWriMo thing back in November, I had decided to step away from the novel for a little while. I knew that the next few scenes that I had to write were going to be traumatic ones, and given that my mood was already circling the drain, I decided it best to not work on the story for a while. After a while, though, I wandered back and reopened the file. For a week or so, I just looked at the file and didn't add anything. I was trying to ease myself back into it.

However, after hanging out with Rosencrantz the night before the first meeting of our writers' group, any thoughts of "easing myself back into it" promptly disappeared. My brain exploded and escaped through my fingers, and I wrote 5100 incredibly traumatic and disturbing words. She also managed to get an amazing amount of work done, and we have made Wednesday night our official writing night. We listen to lots of Miles Davis and Balinese music, drink iced tea from liquor bottles (it makes you feel artistic and bohemian, but you don't end up passed out on the keyboard), smoke entirely too much, discuss what we're writing and how it relates to our lives, and still manage to get an incredible amount written before Guildenstern comes home from his bartending gig. At this point, I'm at just over 45,000 words, and have just realized how much further I still have to go 'til I reach the end. At least I'm almost through the disturbing part.

So that's the condensed version of what's been going on for the last two months. I'm sure I'll think of some more to tell you later.