Bathroomgirl.net

Some things are really throwing me, like the “playlist” link being whited out (javascript popup bug?), and the PHP error at the bottom of the page, and for those things I’m gonna have to seek outside help. Ugh. I’m like a man in that I hate asking for directions. I have to drive around in circles for two hours and get really pissed off first.

I can’t wait to get back to writing. The prose is screaming to get out. Well, at least my writer’s block is gone.

I’ve come back more times than Shirley MacLaine, right?

A few days after my last blog entry (May 31, to be exact), my grandmother came running in screaming, “Elly! Elly! Chris is in her bed and she won’t wake up!” (Chris is my mom.) By this time mom was supposed to be at work, so I knew immediately. Grandma wouldn’t go back in the bedroom so I went to check, and sure enough, she was dead. A heart attack, apparently. Grandma had been at Mass so I was the only other person in the house when she died. We learned from her employer that she had shown up to work, but had asked to go home 15 minutes later because she felt “very sick.” I didn’t hear a thing. Mom never came to get me, and she didn’t make a peep. It was almost as if she wanted to go. I miss you so much, mom.

Now that I’ve (for the most part) recovered, I will try to pick up with this blog again.

Mary Christine Lukic
1949—2009

I’m still alive.

This week has been hella busy. Last Monday I submitted a resume for a production assistant position on a film that’s being made in Savannah. I still haven’t heard back. I’ve got a bad feeling. Nevertheless, I’ve assembled the cutest outfit for the job interview, which calls for a pair of black ballet flats. Problem is I don’t actually own a pair of black ballet flats. Turning to eBay, I’ve got it narrowed down to three adorable pairs, but I just can’t choose which ones I like best. Seeing as the prices are all quite reasonable, hell, I think I’ll just buy them all! A flat for every occasion!

I’m my house’s new cleaning lady. Once a week I get to kneel on all fours and scrape grunge out of tile grout, among other exciting things. I work for five hours and bank $50. Not bad, me thinks.

I’m trying desperately to get Katherine’s Diary (my screenplay) finished, but I have writer’s constipation. I sat at the Swainsboro Library yesterday staring at my notebook for at least three hours, and managed to strain out half a page. How does writer’s constipation differ from writer’s block, I hear you inquire. Well, with writer’s block, there are no ideas or story to begin with. With writer’s constipation, however, the story is definitely there — it plays over and over in your head ad fucking nauseam — but no matter how you try, you just can’t get it out. And your stomach feels like it’s going to explode. Ever had a thought that you just couldn’t verbalize? You know that frustration you feel? Multiply that times twenty. It frigging sucks. The dialogue scenes are the worst. Adderall isn’t even working anymore. (Maybe I should increase my dosage?)

Feeling decidedly behind the times, I’ve opted to increase my display resolution to the highest available setting: 1280×1024. Everything looked so freakishly small at first, but I’ve gotten used to it. Now I kind of like it. My site looks funky with it, though. There’s a weird gap of nothingness down the middle of the page between the two columns. I’ll fix it someday.

I’m gonna go grapple with Katherine’s Diary a little bit more, then I have to shower and get ready for a visit from my dad tomorrow morning, and the inevitable lecture about my life choices. I’m quaking with anticipation.

Comments, comments! Thank you Calítoe and Antoinette for your comments! Woohoo!

Let’s get outta here… Word to ya mutha.