Ilana Writes

We come to family dinners to do this

And this:

We come to eat these:

Until this happens:

Then we move onto this:

And when we get tuckered out, we do this:

When we’ve recovered, this happens:

And that’s why we come to family dinners.

Today was a significantly better day. Both in work and life.  I don’t think I ever want to give specifics on who I work for on this blog, just for privacy from crazy Canadian stalkers. I think its pretty harmless though to say that mostly, I work from home. I do a lot of emailing. Some research. Some catapulting. Bake a few cookies. Paint a few teapots. Later, I take temperatures and stare thoughtfully at periodic tables.

Well, I do some of those things. Sort of.

What I’m trying to say is that work is going well.

And more personally, I found out that I’m going to be doing a guest blog on www.stephbowe.com, for the fabulous Steph. This ridiculously awesome sixteen year old has a publishing contract with some major companies.

Sometimes when mesmerized people mention people worth being mesmerized over they say things like, “WHAT A TRIUMPH.” Or in the case of a book being mesmerizing, they will simply call it “A TRIUMPH” I feel like calling Steph “A TRIUMPH.” You’re a triumph, Steph. Plain and simple.

And I’m only 32% saying this because I’ve never been invited to guest blog before. The other 68% is all genuine.

I hope that was still flattering.

In other news it was date night. This usually consists of R.J and I pushing each other in the shoulder and saying, “What do you want to do?”, “No, what do YOU want to do.” And then giving each other the eyebrows, and then deciding to go to Outback.

Where we usually order the blooming onion and two loaves of bread and have a feast on $6.99 because we’re in college and don’t spend $14.99 on date night unless it’s a truly special occasion.

Usually after eating the bloomin onion we both sit back and wipe our greasy hands and say, “Why did we do that? What ever inspired us to do that?” And the sensation of just having downed a hot mug of oil pours over us. Then we go home, scrub our hands, face, and any other surface the greasy oil fry may have encountered, in the sink.

Tonight though, I wasn’t feeling it. I didn’t want to be sick. I didn’t want to feel overly oily. I just didn’t want to go there. So I had coconut shrimp (Which for those of you who aren’t familiar, It, like the onion, is battered and deep fried.) However, as I justified to R.J –“It has protein. See that shrimp? Protein. Healthy.” And the love, he just nodded and smiled.

We still had to scrub the oil off of us before laying down.

Lately we’ve discovered that we love Ricky Gervais and everything he puts his small British hands on. I’m a big Office fan, and we recently saw The Invention of Lying (and rolled around laughing from start to finish) and tonight we watched Ghost Town. It was a triumph.

Later we decided to pay a visit to R.J’s Uncle who was in town staying with his grandmother. I’d been meaning to stop by for the past two weeks but we couldn’t quite make it work. Tonight was spontaneous.

I love R.J’s family. There hasn’t been a person yet in his clan that I haven’t loved. His Mom already calls me her daughter-in-law, his sister is great. I’ve met cousins and Aunts and Uncles and Grandma.  After tonight the only one I STILL haven’t met is his father!  (Who lives in a different state, otherwise, yes. We would have met by now!)

I love going to his Grandmother’s because she immediately whips out the photo albums and lets me rifle through them until I find embarrassing baby pictures of R.J to lord ov—To, uh, cherish, and compliment.

Tonight was no different, except I had the help of his Uncle and his Uncle’s girlfriend to help find these embarr—Er…Adorable pictures of him.

Unsurprisingly, they were a wonderful couple. The Uncle has been going through college for a very long time earning degree after degree. His girlfriend is also very well educated and had just graduated with a degree in psychology and art expression.  We were sat and talked until half past eleven before we finally had to force ourselves to go.

I don’t know. There is something about being with people who have known the person you’re going to love the rest of your life, for their entire life.

But, aw, how could you not immediately love anyone who came from the same clan as this guy?

I’ve been saying the stupidest things lately.

Mostly to the people I love the most, which is just awful. I don’t have a very good filter in my head. The words will be half way out of my mouth before I think, “I don’t want to say that! Why would I say that! Why am I CONTINUING TO SAY THAT?”

And then I’m sniffling and wailing and nagging.

And nobody likes a sniffler. Or a wailer. Or even worse, a nagger.

And I’ve just been all three this week. For shame.

I even had a dream about it. It was highly metaphorical which just goes to show how incredibly intelligent I am—how beatifically intricate my mind works—and how very irresponsible it is to eat cookie dough right before I go to bed.

So in this dream I am driving in my car down Palmetto Park Road. The speed limit is fifty, but my car is doing eighty and my foot is heavy on the gas. I know I’m going fast. I tell myself that I should slow down, but even as I think this, I just keep going faster. I’m flailing my arms around, and the car swerves through the lanes. I keep thinking, “I’m going to get pulled over.”
And of course, in dream-world as soon as you think it—it happens.

So the cop knocks on my window and I pull it down (and at this point I now have eight limbs and am undulating around the cabin of my Toyota) and before the cop can say anything at all I throw one hand up. I say, “I HAVE AN EAR INFECTION. I CAN’T EVEN DEAL WITH THIS. I’M SORRY!’

And the cop turns into my sister, who gets in the car and takes the wheel. She starts driving just as fast as  I was and says to me, “I don’t even know why you care. Nobody gets in trouble for running red lights.” She proceeds to run one to prove her point, and subsequently the siren goes off behind her.

I think this dream means I’m an idiot. At least that’s the way I’ve felt this week. I keep not meaning to be such an idiot, but just because you’re aware you’re being reckless doesn’t always stop the recklessness.

I wonder if this even makes sense at all. I have a lot of things on my mind.

My whole life, in all of these small ways, are changing. Where I live. The things that I do. The things that I have. The things that I don’t. The people that I’m with, and the people that are no longer with me.

I think my methods of adjusting are probably not so enjoyable for those around me. I can’t help it. I’m terrified and excited and all of me in hyperactive in this limbo. I want my life to start. I don’t want it to start so soon. I want to not be stuck in between wanting it to start and it starting. Because the only thing in the middle of a bad thing and a good thing is apprehension—which has never sat well with me.

And all week, through school and work and all of these small infractions against decent models of polite behavior all I wanted to do was write from this STUPID BOOK. THIS TORTUROUS BOOK. A book of prompts that I went to the bookstore. That I bought for myself. For the stupid, asinine challenge that I set for myself to write 1 short story every day for thirty days.

And guess what?

It is day three.

Guess how many short stories I’ve written?

Zero. And not for lack of trying either. In fact, I have three partially written stories off of three very great prompts. And they’re just sitting there—saying, “Finish what you started! You spent $11.99 on that fucking book and now you’re not even going to complete ~*the challenge*~ WHAT KIND OF WOMAN ARE YOU? WHAT WOULD J.K ROWLING OR MARGRET ATWOOD OR [INSERT OTHER FAMOUS LADY AUTHOR HERE] SAY ABOUT THIS?

“They would say, For Shame, Ilana Jacqueline. Then they would smack you upside the head.”

Why do partially written short stories always say a lot more hurtful things than completed ones?

What can I say?

The last few weeks have been difficult, but fun and exciting and new. The new job is great. Scary, some might even say terrifying at times—but really, really great. I think I’m only terrified because when it comes right down to it, I’ve never had a “job.”

I’ve had gigs. I’ve had website “jobs.” I’ve had consultation “jobs” but never have I been receiving a steady paycheck. Never have I been given a company email.

I’m twenty. Sometimes I still think I’m sixteen and sleep in a loft bed. But I don’t. I sold it on craigslist. I can legally drive.

One day you just wake up and you’re in a bed that has all four legs on the floor and you really can just fall out of it if you roll the wrong way.

I never really thought too much about money until I had it. Now I realize this was a great hindrance on my ability to do any type of math. Now I can calculate a twenty percent tip in my head– because it’s coming out of my checking account.

And I’m saving my money—really, actually saving it. In a savings account. Sure, I’ve had a saving account for a few years now. There was just never anything stable in it. Now I put money it and it stays there.

Like permanently.

I’m even starting to do my own taxes.

When do these things start happening? Next thing you know I’ll have my own apartment and insurance plan. Next thing you know I’ll be graduating with my degree. I realized today I only have about one more semester left! When did that happen? Why didn’t anyone put it on my Outlook calendar?

2010: You Become a Grown Up Around 8:30 AM Every Morning.

I have a lot of growing up to do still. I’m sure there is lots of time left to make mistakes and watch the Disney Channel. It just sneaks up on you, I think, being an adult. One second you’re flipping the remote to Hannah Montana and all of a sudden, you find your other hand is paying your Visa bill.

A Poem Not About To My Usual Standards But Pretty Much Explains Why I’m Dumb and Unproductive ETCETERA

Sinus Infections and allergies

Makes me want to cut down trees

At work I keep messing up

Because my head is full of fluff

R.J makes me smile all day

Even when school rips joy away

I keep my laundry in a pile

Last week at the gym I ran a mile

This poem is void of charm and wit

It all just makes me wanna quit!

Will my brain ever return to my head

Or will snot take up its place instead?

Oh antibiotics, please kick in!

I want to be productive again!

On the internet…Nobody knows you’re a wolf.

But in real life you need to pretend.

So I’m hosting a new giveaway to help you do just that! I’m giving away two CoverGirl Eyeshadows Turquoise Tempest & Purple Pop.

HOW TO ENTER:

In order to enter this giveaway you must do TWO of the following and leave a comment below letting me know which ones you have completed (Along with your name and email)

1. Follow my  twitter @ilanajacqueline & Retweet: “RT @ilanajacqueline COVERGIRL GIVEAWAY @ www.ilanawrites.com !”
2. Follow me on google friend connect (Using the widget in the sidebar)
3. Subscribe to my youtube account.
4. Post on your own blog about this contest (Comment with a link to it!)
5. Write a facebook status about this giveaway
6. Write a myspace status about this giveaway
7. Write a livejournal entry about this giveaway
8. Submit a Reddit entry about this giveaway
9. Leave a real comment on one of my regular posts

Enter Comments Below!

YES, YOU CAN ENTER DAILY!

Winners will be decided @ random! (using a random number website!)

Notice: Cover Girl is not sponsoring this giveaway, and I am in no way endorsing their products however fabulous they may look on me.

Note To Self: The world will not speed up, even if you do crash the car, punch the cashier, and push the old lady out of your way.But fuck, how good would that feel?