measi's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Of car ownership and election day Now that I have the bouncing out of my system... I have to admit, driving to work felt different, knowing that the car situation is different. The Jeep is mine. Or will be, soon. Mom told me last night during our weekly chat that she's decided to give me the Jeep. She wants to make an appointment for it to go in over Thanksgiving weekend, if possible, to get anything fixed that needs to be fixed. (I wonder what she's going to think of the newly cracked piece of plastic that covers all of the guages behind the steering wheel... I'm still trying to figure out how it happened this past week) Then she's going to check on what she needs to do about changing the title over to me, and if we can do it there at the dealership she gets the Jeep fixed at. And then I'm on my own with it. My first car. A 1997 silver Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited Edition... with leather seats (and seatwarmers!), sun/moon roof, and gold-colored hubcaps. 124,000 miles on it (4,000 of which are mine), one owner. In near-perfect condition, other than the usual dinks and scratches that come with everyday wear. It's never been (to my knowledge) in a single car accident. For this moment, and this moment only, I'll be happy to be the spoiled little rich girl. *sigh* I'm in bliss. And I'm probably going to be worshipping my mom's feet all winter if the weather is as bad is things seem to be suggesting. Driving 128 in the snow isn't my idea of fun. [bar] [nanowrimo] is still going rough. I managed to crank about 1,600 words last night, which is good for a one-day effort. I'm just shy of 5,000, which frustrates me. That first 10,000 is just a looming goal for me. Hopefully once I crest over that first hill and see my completed portion up into the 20% range, I'll feel better. I'll be a fifth done. I didn't realize I'd struggle so badly with this. You'd think with all the journal writing I do that I wouldn't have a problem with novel writing. But writing fiction is showing itself to be quite difficult for me. I guess it's just the nature of a different form of writing beast. It's easy for me to ramble off incoherant thoughts in my journal, or write about myself. Even if it's boring as hell. To write a story that needs to have some coherance to work is a bit tougher. And I think I'm scaring myself into a bit of writer's block. I brought the computer to work today in hopes of working on the novel over my lunch hour. I might pop over to the local Starbucks and just curl up with a hot chai for an hour, get done whatever I can get done, and then grab a sandwich or soup to eat at my desk afterward. I just have to remind myself... I can do this. It will take time, but I can do this... Hopefully. 11:00 a.m. - 5 November 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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