NaNoWriMo is one week and 30 minutes away

So the question is, to WriMo or not to WriMo... Okay, that doesn't make tons of sense, but participants in National Novel Writing Month (google it!) do call themselves wrimo's and I would love to have some piece of original writing to work on that's not that novel that I can never seem to get finished.

I really feel like doing it, but I also feel like getting up early to exercise and NaNoWriMo is typically a month where we get ABSOLUTELY nothing else done. Anything that's not essential gets on the backburner and I'm not sure I can afford that. Although if I don't do NoNoWriMo and then get nothing else done anyway I'll be pretty pissed.

So what kind of novel should I write? Should I write in French or English? Should I stay away form the supernatural, or should I dive right in. I mean, I did tend towards supernatural writing even when it wasn't popular... But what does that mean.

I think I shall re-read Chris Baty's No Plot, no problem!

November is a-knocking. Should I answer with 50 000 words?

Updated to show this:
Guess that's my answer...

Witches, tattoo artists and soccer

What do these three worlds have in common? Me!

I always thought that I'd have my crap together in my thirties. I though by 9 years of marriage my husband would have bought me a real ring. That we'd have life plans, savings, a house.

Well, one out of three ain't bad. So we have a small house. A small house I couldn't renovate enough of because my husband won't work so we have to spend all my money on both my half and his half of the stuff. And we're going in debt again, including to the government who decided to think that I've been skimping on my taxes for 7 years (which I haven't). I don't have all the papers to contest, and I have to concentrate on school, so I'm just letting it go. And by letting it go I mean I'm letting it slowly choke me.

So, I've been waiting to get my three tattoos fixed for at least 10 years. They're bad even for old school tattoos. They're the kind of tattoos a 15-year-old stoned girl would get. A girl who knows she likes tattoos, but has a small budget on account of the drugs she's blowing money on. A girl who only vaguely gets that body art is an investment, because it is, in a small way, an expression of who you are and what you like.

So I found an artists that's good in intricate girly stuff, because I've realized I am definitely a woman, no matter how butchy I can look, and managed to get time with him even though he's booked solid within an hour of a month's schedule opening up. Long story short, I've got one tattoo almost finished, one that's taking up half my back that's at the outline stage and one that is still at the brainstorming stage. Getting tattoos for hours without being stoned is a lot more painful, but since I've gone through childbirth, I have all those handy mind-over-matter lamaze breathing tricks up my sleeve and am doing fine. Hey, I'm even developing a series that takes place in a tattoo parlour. Takes the mind off as Rob's torturing me (I have no doubt that it would feel like torture were it not about the art)...

I also went to see a witch about a some oils. Focus and creativity (I'm not the kind that thinks she can attract something tangible like money with herbs and spells). I find that whether it's a placebo effect, a neuro-association or a honest-to-god result of putting the ingredients together and smelling them, those oils help. Stop by Mélange Magique on St-Catherine in Montreal for anything tea, herb, oil or other occult needs.

We went to watch my husband play soccer today at a tournament. Outside, in the rain, at near freezing temperatures. Oh my god, such a bad idea. It was fun seeing Asian looking people speaking creole (Iles Maurice), but other than that it was quite miserable. Even dressed for the weather. Boubou did like watching for awhile. She loves soccer! However, it was WAYYYY too long with no way to leave. I was practicing being in the moment and tuning into the universe, instead of wishing I was anywhere else and getting mad. I'm getting quite good at being zen.

I even ended up with ideas on my next Friday. A vampire that's gotten fat.

WAY LESS than a superhero

My tagline reads, more than a mom, less than a superhero. Right now I feel a lot less than a superhero.

I feel like crap, basically. I'm always annoyed when I feel bad because I have so much to be thankful for. Canadian thanksgiving was yesterday and although I usually bring up going around the table so everyone can verbalize what they're thankful for I didn't this year, I decided not to because it might sound untrue.

My kids are being a little bit ass-holey. I love them but they're not sleeping enough and are getting on each others nerves a lot. My daughter is absolutely awesome at 11 months, but she won't really sleep and keeps going up and down stairs, eating everything (loves earphones and shoes) and keeps falling while walking. She really needs tons of attention.

Last week was my 9th wedding anniversary. My husband has stopped work again, is very critical, and can't seem to understand I need support with school so going out for pizza with him (and paying) didn't feel too good.

I thought by 10 years of marriage he would have bought me a ring to replace the wedding ring I bought myself. I thought we'd have life plans. I thought he'd be less shy (really, you're never going to try oral sex?)

Basically, I am left with a reality in which I've grown by leaps and bounds and he still has trouble tying his shoes by himself. Won't hold down a job, won't talk about his feelings but still considers cooking, cleaning, doing the dishes, organizing, taking care of the kids and organizing their shit a woman's work. I'm living with a cliché. Exept he's not the stereotypical Mexican with short greasy hair and a beer belly, he's the second Mexican stereotype, with long greasy hair that doesn't have a beer belly, yet, but he's sure trying.

It's very hard to know for a fact that he's with me because it's easier, because I always figure things out, because I will do what needs to be done. He's not even really appreciative of being with me. He thinks I talk too much and I harsh his mellow, and he's not even a pot smoker.

Anyway, last Friday, those little performances we have to give in front of everyone, SUCKED! I was so bad. I had absolutely NO time to do all my classes' homework, work on my 5 minutes and learn it. I finished it Friday morning and tried to learn it and fail before the afternoon when I had to go on. I am so embarrassed. I didn't get booed or anything. There was funny stuff, but it was clearly underdeveloped and now I feel like everyone's looking at me to see if it was one bad week or if I will be that girl that can't hack it. Everyone knows I don't have time, but there's no other solution to my problem. If I don't have time, I can't get the perspective I need.

I asked one of our teachers what were the steps I could do to polish my text when I have no time and he couldn't answer me. He was like: GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!

But I can't. If my husband disappears at night because he had a 'hard day', where am I supposed to go. And if it takes half and hour by bus to get anywhere and I only have 30 minutes to write, that's not going to happen.

Because I should have left him. Scratch that: I did leave him. But he stayed muttering about hormonal women, and now he knows that I don't have the will to force him out of the house physically in front of the children.

So this week I'm doing a stand-up on him. I may as well laugh at it and keep things light.

Here's what I cut from the text so far (so the rest is funnier):

He's super Mexican. Not Super!Mexican like he's a superhero. I'm not sure if a Mexican superhero would work. He would go and save gringos in peril (as long as it wasn't during siesta) lost gringos in Mexico looking for bathrooms and beer (donde estan los sanitarios? Una cerveza mas, por favor). To fly, he would use the power of farts, because God knows he eats enough frijoles (refried beans). He would come down next to you using his sombrero as a parachute. Then give you a bottle of tequila to make you forget. Except it wouldn't work because Mexicans would not give up a bottle of tequila. Or go work for no pay. Unless they're in the states...

So what do you think?