Apocalypse Later

Shit. You're mad, aren't you? I don't blame you. I totally proved that all dreams are, in fact, lies. I didn't finish the AFI Top 100 before the end of 2012, so of course, neither did any of you. Well, you better not have. So that's it. Everyone go home. Party's over. I threw up in the punch bowl and someone's slow dancing with a coat rack. Or does that mean the REAL party is just getting started? Confused? I don't blame you. But you really need to learn to focus, you know that, don't you? Anyways, let's get it all sorted.

I'd be honored to throw up in this.

At the beginning of 2012, I decided I was going to write for one hour each day. I had this blog, became a Yelp Elite member, and carried a list of at least 10-15 ideas that could be written, some even filmed, and eventually sent off to various festivals and competitions. Alas, 2012 was a year of wayward commitment (to put it kindly). Distractions came and went, but they remained just that - distractions. I've been a big baby filled with excuses that are charged by self-pity, insecurity, fear, and laziness. Who am I kidding? I'm still that big baby, but I'm working at it. Time to suck it up and be happy because everything will be OK and that's all there is to it. Well, not all, but you get it.

Now what? Along with last year's projects, I will also be contributing to Girl Town, another blog started by a couple friends, that you should totally check out. Joining this blog forced me to get my shit together and create a writing schedule since I will be on a schedule for them. They aren't strict, but I have to have rules or I'll just drink tea from my bunny mug without pants while I watch Murder, She Wrote. I also figured out that various & sundry is going to be where I get personal and geeky. Obviously my AFI Top 100 journey fits in perfectly here.

Maybe this proclamation is not very important to you. In fact, you might be comatose by now. I can dig that. BUT it was important for me to get it on here so I can come to this blog almost every Sunday (hey, old habits like procrastination and laziness die hard) and know what type of content I'm going for. Stressing over that question has caused me to procrastinate far too much so THIS ENDS NOW. I wish I had a Gandalf staff and a windy New Zealand mountain top to shout that from. Although, a walking stick and a big fan would give it just as much drama.

Effective proclamation sans Gandalf staff or dramatic winds.

Anyways, join me Sunday where I will discuss my experience watching Apocalypse Now for the first time since I was eight. Yes, you read that correctly. Eight years old. Oh yeah, baby, I got some yarns to spin for ya. At some point, we'll get back on the AFI train, but we'll get to it when we get to it. We have schedules, but this is neither Nazi Germany, nor present day, non-Nazi Germany train station scheduling, so chill out.



flowers & sunshine & proclamations,
bunny

I did it my way (for approx 15 years)

Here is something from my "private blog" days.  Sounds, weird, I know, but it was when I would type up some stuff that I was thinking about and then save it to my computer.  The end, goodnight, no soup for you.  So I'm dustin' this puppy off for your reading pleasure. I love the characters I have pictured here, some of the funniest ever, elderly or not.  Guess being old (even at 23?) isn't always bad...

                                                              

I feel like such an old lady.  My back is all kinds of screwed up, too much caffeine (aka too much iced tea) makes me crazy, I have acid reflux, bad hips, I need shoes with actual support and my boobs are growing to the point where I am one size away from needing a full-body Mormon underwear suit.  I wonder if the sex sheet with a wang-hole comes with that...  For Pete's sake, I've even had shingles TWICE. 

The fact that I just had to list all of my ailments proves my point even further.  It’s like in Sixteen Candles (1984) when Sam asks her grandparents how they are and sends them into a diatribe about corns and bad backs and hot water bottles.  Except I’m 23, so it’s not endearing, it’s sad.  I know it’s rough for the older ones, and by no means funny (at least all the time), but at least most of them had a good go-around in their youth.  Mine has already begun!  I’m going to show up to my ten-year high school reunion in orthotics with a hip replacement and a hearing aid, because, oh yea, I can never hear anything either.  I wrote once that my body was just trying to make me pure so I had to adhere to all these healthy guidelines, but it’s looking more and more like my body is trying to kill me off.  Which, to be honest, I guess all of our bodies are decaying as we speak, some just more rapidly than others AHEM.  Pleasant, no?  But as long as I Grace Kelly my way out, flying around a mountain in a sports car, I’m cool with it.  I guess.  Shit.  Too soon?  See, I said I was old. Grace Kelly’s death is still pertinent to me.

Au revoir, Pee Wee!  Gotta finish my pea soup before my Metamucil sets in and I have my scheduled bowel movement.  Can’t have my hernia acting up again.  Oy vey..... Doh!

flowers & sunshine & Metamucil for all,

bunny