I’m dreaming of a write Christmas,
waiting for the muse I used to know,
Where the character arcs glisten,
And demons dogs are hissin’,
and plot holes are backfilled with plows of snow.

I’m dreaming of a write Christmas,
With every inciting incident, I write,
May your Baes be suited for a fight,
And may all your Christmas’ be write.

I’m dreaming of a write Christmas,
the ones where we don’t tell, we show,
Where conflicts insight frisson,
Witches brew ricin,
And vamps tap veins that always flow.

I’m dreaming of a write Christmas,
With every vicious murder scene, I write,
May your faes, may your plays, may your essays,
Be aerie and enemies quickly smite.
And may all your Christmas’ be write.

“I’ve told ya,” he said,

His cheeks flushed with pink,

“It ought not be done,

Here in the sink.”

“It’s twisted & tangled,

And a Bobby might stick.

Wouldn’t a problem be,

If it weren’t so thick.”

He handed me the bent wire,

“And that there’s the rub,

Of washing it here,

Instead of the tub”

Today was an overly exciting day at the office.

It started out normal enough; early morning wake up and shake fist at alarm clock, brush teeth, locate and don real pants, drive 45 minutes to the office listening to an audiobook about how to live a more creative life, etc. etc.

I logged in, plugged in headphones to listen to electro-swing music to dance embarrassingly in my clandestine cubicle with no visible neighbors. Steaming cup of paris tea in hand, I began trudging through emails, firing off questions, troubleshooting problems for about an hour or so.

Then I noticed sort of a weird smell. It was like someone had left a curling iron on.

No, that wasn’t it. It was more like, someone had left a curling iron on top of their hairbrush, slowly melting it into a pool of molten sludge.

Weird.

While I sat contemplating the exact aromas I was experiencing, I also, like any sane self-preservation motivated human being, …kept working? Yes. Like a complete square, I kept typing, and chatting with co-workers online, commenting on how the floor of my building “sure did smell weird.”

After an amount of time I choose to not admit to you, one of the engineers stood up and said “OK, that’s it. Everyone out!”

I stood up and saw the plume of smoke that had started creeping down the hallway towards my corner cubicle, and started shoving my stuff into my backpack (also not protocol for an evac.) I then followed the other lemmings down the stairwell and out into the parking lot, with the others shooting me death stares that I’d had time to pack up my stuff for a swift departure, as opposed to standing in the parking lot for an indiscriminate amount of time waiting for the fire trucks to arrive.

On the way out of the building, I heard others saying that the fire alarm hadn’t been pulled…because no one knew where it was. Bonkers! Who’s going to save me when I have electro-swing blaring in my ears and I’m too emotionally invested in my olfactory experiences than the cause of them?!

What caused the smoke you ask? I still have no idea. One woman said something was burning in the first-floor kitchen and it filled the whole building (what?), another person said there was a short circuit on a ballast….which is used in roofs, or is some sort of gravel…or is on a ship.

So I have no idea.

All in all, it was an ideal experience for capturing lessons learned. Lesson one, if you smell something burning, make sure your third-floor office building isn’t slowly burning to the ground around you while you send off superfluous email correspondence – your life is more important.

Lesson two – maybe take note of where the fire alarm is, in the event lesson one is required.

Lesson three – …maybe just work from home from now on. It’s very peopley outside and it smells like burned plastic.

A village in the mountains,

A village by the sea.

The clattering of seashells,

The swaying willow tree.

The whispers of forgotten songs,

Now told only to the sky,

Alone you’ll walk this narrow path,

None left to say goodbye.

This was my first year participating in NaNoWriMo. I was pretty excited about it. I explained to everyone who would listen to what it was, the rules, why I was doing it, “Of course I’ll finish it,” “Yes, I can write 50k words in a month,” “No, I won’t be quitting my day job.”

I talked my best friend into doing it with me, and away we went. The first day, the words flew from my fingers faster than lightening out of Palpatine’s pinkie. I cranked out over 7 thousand words and was convinced I’d hit 50k in no time. My friend called me a robot, we laughed, everything was peachy.

As the month went on, the inspiration left. It was more like a chore than an art. I had to hit a certain word count. I had to update the website to get “credit” for my words. I felt almost like the words weren’t as meaningful as the number, and at the end of the month, I’d hit 50,011 words and didn’t write another one for over a month.

I’m not saying that I’m against NaNoWriMo. Far from it, I love that it exists, and I’m excited to learn about more events like it, but I need to approach these types of things more carefully in the future. I know my tendencies, I know that I am overly competitive, with myself most of all and that at the end of the day these sorts of events can detract from the end goal.

Which is what, exactly?

I guess That is the first step. Figuring out what the end goal is. Is it to write a book? Finish a book? Publish a book? Or just write. Create. Grow.

I’m not writing for you. I’m not writing for that guy over there with the fedora or the woman crossing the street holding the freshly baked baguette.

Am I in France? No. I’m in my living room pretending I’m in France, don’t distract me.

My goal is to write.

Although I make lists and have sticky notes and overzealous expectations of myself, I need to remember that the goal at the end of the day is to just write something.

It’s ok to be ambitious, it’s not ok to shit on your self-esteem when you haven’t become the greatest at everything you ever try to do in the first week.

I’m not going to sit here and say that I’m going to blog constantly, or keep a writing journal, or make any other promises that I’m inevitably going to break and mentally berate myself for – But I’m going to write. I’m telling the universe, myself, and you if you happen to be reading this for some reason – I’m going to keep writing.

Whether it’s a piece of nerdy poetry to my husband, a short story about a dinosaur who got lost on the subway or an intricate three-part novel about a young woman with fiery red hair in a Russian school who can absorb and expel bad guys from her body in the form of tattoos (yes, that one is in the works), as long as the keyboard is clicking, I’m ahead of the game.

The happiest of birthdays,
To this sassy mynx,
She’s helpful, kind and loving,
And nerdier than you think…

She’s smarter than Jean Luke Picard,
More logical than Spock,
And though she refused to watch 5th Element,
She’d totes give Dobby a sock.

She’s taught a generation of students,
Who still light up at her name,
And now Bongo teaches her grandchildren,
And is learning from them, new games.

I learned all sorts of important stuff,
Like how best to make a weird face,
The importance of great bands and music,
And the final frontier of space.

She’s also taught me things…Like wrong and right,
And how the world could be,
And if you know her as I do,
I’m sure you feel as lucky.

I got married today,
Well, five years ago, that is,
To a talented musician,
Husband, friend and Wiz,

Now in our Haszienda,
With our two tigers, we reside,
Playing music and video games,
Our Insta happiness implied.

But marriage isn’t easy,
For us, or anyone,
It is all about compromise,
The storm clouds, with the sun.

We argue about bruschetta,
And where dinos might still roam,
You tell me about politics,
Until mine eyes roll, & mouth is a foam.

I’d follow you anywhere,
But may complain a bit along the way,
Know that you make me better,
The Kylo to your Rey. (God I hope they aren’t related.)

I think you get the picture,
So I will make it quick,
If I did it all over,
Every time it’s you I’d pick 

Why’s it always Tuesday?
The day before the Con,
When I’m packing my possessions,
And planning the nerd shirts to don…

That I suddenly realize,
Usually in the middle of the eve
That I don’t have a costume,
And I start to fret and grieve.

I have the hair for Hermione,
The sass of Lorelei,
The unhelpful wardrobe of Johnny Cash,
But which one should I try?

I have some rings like Frodo,
But not one to rule them all,
I’ve been Alice and Lara once already,
And Groot is much too tall.

Zoe can pull off skins of green AND blue,
But I’m just super pale,
Maybe I could wear a long brown coat,
And go as Captain Mal(e) (…. so close)

The Doctor has a lot of faces,
Arya Stark does as well
The directors seemed to forget that plot point,
But maybe why, the panel will tell.

There’s always next year,
I always seem to say,
I’ll go all out and plan ahead,
By more than just a day…

So say we all, I’m headed,
To a convention of sweaty nerds,
I guess I’ll have to stick to shirts,
And pretty ordered words.

I was never that into online shopping. The idea of putting my financial information online, somewhere hackable, still gives me the heebie-geebies.

No. I don’t want to scan my credit card.

I don’t want the website to “remember my data.”

I want to live off the “grid,” in a cabin with non-traceable wifi in the middle of the woods.

…

But I also really like shoes.

And books… and random kitchen gadgetry.

So when Amazon became popular and trustworthy, I entered my credit card information. I stored it for later use.

The purchases started off small… household needs, toiletries, music, gifts for loved ones. I signed up for Kindle, Audible, and eventually bought an Amazon dot, so Alexa could serenade me whenever I asked.

Slowly I started getting advertisements on Facebook aligned with my quirky purchases and interests. I’d succumb to the click bait of “20 most popular quirky things on Amazon,” and end up buying at least one.

My husband and I would step over the ever-increasing stack of boxes on our doorstep, and our drawers and cupboards slowly filled up to maximum capacity (click here for how I purged the clutter from our lives.) All the while, my husband was nice enough not to say anything while his own store was slowly being pushed out of existence by the online monstrosity.

Things really changed when I wrote a paper for my Master’s program about Amazon, and how the e-commerce market has impacted the brick and mortar establishments. My findings, and learning real-life examples of how Amazon is changing everything, made me less eager to complete my order…

The next budgetary epiphany happened when a co-worker reminded me of Mint, the software I signed up for 100 years ago, (I remember because it was very difficult to enter my information there as well,) and haven’t looked at since. She told me how she and her fiance were really getting strict on spending, and prioritizing all disposable income on their home improvements and upcoming wedding.

So that night I went home, cracked open a beer, and dove headfirst into the analytics of my spending patterns. The app lets you apply different filters to analyze trends over time. Mint tries to determine the type of purchase you are making, and once you categorize all the miscellaneous activities, you have a complete picture of your financial health. So I filtered on all purchases made to Amazon, over the last year and hit enter.

I was flabbergasted.

And a bit embarrassed.

I’m not going to tell you how much money I’ve spent on inconsequential Amazon purchases. I’m not sure I want to admit it out loud (or write it down), but at that moment, I cut my Amazon practices cold turkey.

I deleted the app from my cell phone and tablet, so it was more difficult to complete any transactions. I started utilizing the notepad feature in my cell to track purchases that I absolutely needed, and would search all available sites for the best price. I was surprised that although Amazon Prime has free shipping, it doesn’t always have the lowest price.

Since the Amazon break-up, my monthly credit card bills have been substantially lower. Our house is less cluttered and there has been no impact on the functionality and efficiency of our kitchen. In short, life does go on after Amazon.

There are other easy ways to budget smarter and do your part to reduce waste: pack a lunch, make your own fancy-schmancy coffee, resell clothing and products on sites before buying new stuff, and research all options before you buy anything from travel, to TVs.

I’ll keep posting other budget and planning ideas moving forward, but it’s important to periodically dig into your financials and determine your priorities,  whether you emphasize travel, concerts or the highest rated egg timer in the world.