Today I carved two pumpkins in fairly record time, dressed up as a zombie cheerleader (there was lots of glue and paper on my face and paint and it was righteous, I can assure you), handed out candy with Lacey, ate pizza, found out the Rangers lost Game 4 of the World Series (it's now 3-1, Giants), and now I am freaking the fuck out because NaNoWriMo starts in less than an hour.
It'll be posted on the other blog, Journalism's Dark Secret, and if you can't sign on to it, then there's a decent chance you're a creeper. (We're all creepers in some respects.) I haven't much decided what I'm going to write -- I thought I'd have all these nice long runs to think about what I'm going to write, while I'm training for this godforsaken half marathon, but it turns out it takes way too much effort to think about running while running. Who knew?
I might start tonight, or it might have to wait until tomorrow. I really don't know. I feel a lot more apprehensive about it this year than I did last, actually. It's probably because I've been spending so much time thinking about baseball and Halloween costumes (for the party yesterday I was Edward Scissorhands, and let me tell you, making scissorhands is a bitch) and running, along with all the usual day-to-day things that consume my thoughts.
And now I'm blogging in an attempt to get an idea. It's not really working. I'm going to go think about my scissor hands again.
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