Monthly Archives: November 2012

My Last Day, Feeling the Pressure, and ‘My Thing’


Today, fellow Satanists, I am sitting in my bed and not wearing pants. Furthermore, there is a puppy snuggled up next to me and I am playing smooth Jazz on my Pandora. I ate Ravioli with a divine Marinara sauce on top of it, and I have absolutely no regrets.

Can this become ‘my thing’? It’s so smooth, suave, sexy. The jazz, I mean. The puppy is just cute. But the whole situation I’m in right this second…it is absolute and utter perfection. It’s like if you could poop rainbows and fly on the wings of a giant butterfly. Oh my Asgard, I’m just so content right now.

Which is kind of a bad thing. I’m so calm and fulfilled that I could just lay back and fall asleep listening to this Jazz music and snuggling this puppy. I could forget about my Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, Youtube, Gmail, NaNoWriMo, MeetMe, and SceneKids (don’t ask). 

I could quit writing my 50,000 words (which I’m almost 3,000 words away from completing) and just lay back, floating on the clouds of happiness and contentment. I know that I can’t, which is why I’m here posting this blog instead of doing what I said I wish I could do. 

This is my last day of NaNoWriMo. If I don’t reach 50,000 words today, I will have lost the challenge. It is also the last day of No Shave November. If I shower today, I might cave and lose that challenge, too. I must stay strong.

I resent myself and I resent you for making me so attached to your devilish charms. You guys are truly excellent, and you have pulled me through for over a year. It’s so cool to be able to say that, too. But still, resentment as big as a loaf of giant bread. Though with this puppy licking my hands while I type, I don’t know that I can actually feel resentment.

There seems to be no power behind my words, as she gives me her puppy eyes and her warm puppy breath tickles the back of my hand and I just can’t be mad at you anymore. See? There’s a puppy in my bed, advocating for you.

Let me introduce the little bugger. Her name is Gemesi, but we call her Gem for short. She’s smiley, snuggly, and puppyish. She is a few months old. She’s wonderful!!

There, now you’ve been introduced to a main source of my day’s happiness? Content now?

Question of the day: If you could have three things right now that would make you content and peaceful, what would they be?

Love ya!

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My Day Off and Other Anti-Accomplishments


Welp, yesterday I didn’t post a damn thing, and do you know why that is? No, neither do I. Actually, I do, and here’s the story of what really happened.

Telea, awesome, explosions, fighting, guns, fast and the furious-like racing scene, riding an elephant, tiny hippos, more explosions, met a hot guy, romantic montage with said guy set to ‘Baby Got Back’, really large explosions, real life ass muffins, Drugs, airplanes, coconuts, rum, and explosions in the bedroom (wink-wink).

So, to sum it all up, all I told the truth about in that last statement was Telea, awesome and drugs. I apologize for leading you astray, and now here’s the real synopsis of what went down on Wednesday.

I took three sleeping pills instead of one and I slept from 3 in the morning on Wednesday all the way to 1 am on Thursday, when I begrudgingly booted up the old internet and did nothing but scroll through my Tumblr feed all the way up to the moment that I decided to stop being lazy and actually post a blog.

And so goes the life of one Telea Dodge, who obviously lacks a life, friends, a job, and any sort of respect for normal sleeping hours. Goddamn her, we can’t decide if she is foolish or brilliant, so we will settle on Fooliant and Brillish. Yes, yes, those are actual words. No, no, don’t look them up.

I would like to state, in my defense, that this was long-awaited sleep and that well, fuck you for assuming I’m going to post a blog every day. That has only been my tried and true standard for the past couple of weeks (Though you’re proud of me, aren’t you?). I’m afraid that I have slipped even deeper into the chasm of doom that is the internet.

I may not make it out of this alive, but if it’s wrong, I don’t want to be right [and other crap cliches that are actually about love].

On the bright side (as if sleeping for 22 hours wasn’t enough of a bright side for my fellow Satanists) I may get to go on an adventure today and possibly receive snuggles or kisses on this adventure. Even without the snuggles and kisses, it will be good to leave the general area of my pantry-that-was-converted-into-a-room-over-a-decade-ago and actually use my legs for the first time since ‘Nam.

So, there’s my sorry excuse for a blog, and my question of the day (since I apparently do that now) is…

What do you do on your day off?

Love ya!

Proving Myself and Avoiding Harsh Topics


I don’t recommend throwing your day-life away for a night one. I don’t enjoy discussing the nuances of love as the smoky or bold or timid or all-powerful sun rises in the east. I don’t want to encourage you feeling 3 am the way I have. No, I don’t.

I also don’t want you to never experience a true sunset, or to miss out on watching the sunrise and feel both exhausted and fresh and ready for the new day. I want you to feel that, and a lot of people I talk to assume that, since I don’t want them to have a lifestyle like mine, I push them away from such experiences. No, I don’t.

I guess all of this rambling is to say that you should do what you want to do, guys. I mean, unless it’s assassinating the president or dropping a bomb on Tiberia or something equally awful. In that case, just do what society indicates that you should do. Or, you know, join an anger management class?

Of course, you’re talking to no sleep for over 36 hours Telea, and she is now more amused with her fresh-brewed cup of coffee and cinnamon oatmeal, and has forgotten what this blog post was even supposed to be about.

I don’t even know what hit me. The coffee as black as the dream I had about coal-mining. The oatmeal as well seasoned as a four year Olympic Gold Medalist. The mood and timing just right. The flavors exploding in my mouth, and now, because I can’t seem to talk about anything real today, a picture of something I do when I’m procrastinating/bored.

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This is the costume I wear. I call it: Ojesus Bin LadChrist. No offense, it’s just really what it looks like to me. Now, for how I put it into action.

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This is how I get strapping young lads to hit on me. Look at that winky-face he’s giving me. He totally wanted my balls.

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And this is how women react to my charm. So there you go, that’s the story of my dating life. Those are my two most fruitful relationships.

Just kidding. Maybe. Like, maybe half-kidding. Or thirdsies. Anyway, this has been another exciting episode of ‘Telea Blathers on While Trying to Seem Interesting’. We’re thinking of changing the title to ‘Telea Sucks Wookies’, and we don’t know why.

And, of course, Sweet Mother of Asgard, now I have a meeting to be off to regarding my scholarly duties, which I may or may not be but probably am not keeping up with.

Love ya!

The Long Haul and Getting Down to Business


Well, my dears, there are five days remaining in National Novel Writing Month, and I am just about 4,000 words behind schedule. That being said, I don’t think I’m going to quit just yet. You see, Telea has been a participant in NaNoWriMo for the past four years. Yes, she is a veteran, but never has received an honorable discharge, which is what she is looking for this year.

Yes, she believes year four is the big year. It has certainly felt inspired up to this point, and all she needs is some brain-food to kick her shit into gear. That being said, Telea doesn’t know how exactly she plans on actually finishing this. She means to say that 4,000 words feels like a lot, and 11,000 words feels like even more.

Se remembers when she started this whole thing, 22 days ago. She remembers sitting down and thinking to herself: Hey, you know what would be an absolutely great idea? If I wrote a book in a month. Yep, sounds like an awesome plan to me.

Well, Telea, you’re a goddamn idiot, because you have just realized that you can’t write an entire novel in a month. You have actually only managed to write the first large part of your novel, and you have recently realized that this feels like the halfway mark to you. 40,000 words? Yeah. that feels like half done. There’s so much more character progression to do.

Basically, you’re fucked. How are you going to write this entire book and have it fit for publishing when you’re so out of ideas that you have your main character questioning the existence of god? Sweet Mother of Thor, you have to figure something out, and fast.

That being said, you, Telea, are on Facebook probation. That’s right. For all of today you have no permission to visit Facebook for any reason. That is, unless you hit 45,000 words. Yes, my dears, that does happen to be the goal for today.

Wish me luck and also pray to Asgard that this blathering of mine will stop by the end of the month and I’ll be back to writing quality material. Right? My question of the day is: Do you think you could ever write a publishable novel?

Love ya!

A Losing Battle and Pancakes at 3 am


Well, this is the last day of Thanksgiving Weekend, thank Asgard. I think that it’s necessary to state that this time of year sends me into a depression that I can’t seem to pull myself out of. It happens every year. November is the Month that everything sucks and I really dislike that it seems to have to be that way.

There’s not much I can do about it but think positively, and you know Telea; always positive thinker extraordinaire! So, let’s get to it, shall we?

Yesterday I posted a long status on my personal Facebook page discussing why 3 am was for the lonely. And it’s true. 3 am is dismal and dark and my very least favorite hour in the 24 hour day. So last night, I decided not to deal with that 3 am bullshit.

Being out of sleeping pills, I only had a couple of options to make 3 am suck less.

1. I could have hit myself over the head with a hammer in order to knock myself out for the rest of the night.

2. I could have phoned a rather sketchy friend and done rather sketchy things with said sketchy friend.

3. I could have stolen a car and driven somewhere that seemed nice and warm and safe and happy (providing that I was comfortable with going to jail for GTA and operating without a license).

4. I could have eaten all of the ice cream in the freezer and then moved on to just eating brown sugar straight out of the container until my stomach was so filled with sweets that it rolled over and died.

5. I could have made pancakes (and I did).

So we’re talking about comfort foods, because fuck talking about what I did yesterday, which was basically lay around and feel sorry for myself…oh, and I went to a little festival thing.

Not important. What’s important is Mac and Cheese. What’s important is Spaghetti with Meatballs. What’s really important is Tamales. No, really, if you see me crying my eyes out or throwing shit or just generally looking like the kind of person that would hijack a plane and repeat a two towers-like scene, just give me a goddamn pork tamale.

It works wonders. Within moments of taking a bite, a smile the size of the Eiffel Tower will cross my face, and the real Eiffel Tower will be safe from maniacs like me. Or at least one maniac like me, which is, in fact…me.

How bad would it be if I took down the Eiffel Tower? I mean, not even the Nazis decided to destroy Paris. What kind of person would that make me? Crazy.

I also have a weakness for Chicken Noodle Soup. Not from-the-can slime, but real, honest, home-made delicious soup. That’s really all I want to eat right now, but my 3 am pancake binge has my stomach rolling over like it’s a submissive dog with Lyme’s Disease. The Lyme’s because I don’t feel well, obviously.

Sadly for me, we don’t have the necessary ingredients or the time for any of my comfort foods, so we will apparently be eating Thanksgiving leftovers. This means that I will probably be sulking in my room for the rest of the night, denying the urge to eat an entire gallon of ice cream or grab the hammer.

I hope you guys are faring better than I am as I try to pull my way out of this downward spiral I seem to be in. My question of the day is: What’s your number one comfort food?

Love ya!

Not-So Family Thanksgiving Weekend


This morning, my dears, I had an emotional breakdown the size of Texas. I was watching 50/50, and a couple of the hospital scenes threw me back into the mindset of being in the hospital myself, and I just couldn’t deal with it. I wasn’t able to finish watching the movie, and instead screamed into a pillow.

So now, I’m feeling as emotionally unstable as a PMS’ing woman who just had a bad breakup and has no money for any kind of chocolate. Yes, it is actually that bad. Today, I was supposed to go to a Potluck for a Renaissance Festival Planning thingy, and then over to my Aunt’s house for a Dodge family Thanksgiving.

After the breakdown and a massive blowup with my father, I have settled on only doing the former of those two options, as I am in no mood to deal with my family. Now, mark you, I have an excellent family and I love them dearly, but being around them when vulnerable is like proffering up a feast to some really hungry vultures.

My family is the one that everyone loves but fears. They’re very loud, musical, boisterous, and bullheaded. Debates can rage on for five minutes or six hours. Oh, and don’t even think about talking football with my uncles; it’s not pretty.

SO! I will be going to the Potluck and then coming home and spending some time alone. Yay me! I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Love ya!

Lackluster, for Lack of a Better Word, Luster.


Oh god, I forgot. I’m not allowed to take time off. There are far too many things to do and places to do them in, pardon the I don’t even know what. Today, I took a sleeping pill, which is usually not effective in the least, and crashed like a sloth who had just switched branches in their tree.

I was out for the whole day, and I dreamed of weird things, like boobs being made out of chocolate chip cookies, and floor-snuggling being the most romantic thing in all the Nine Kingdoms. It was weirdness. There was also this crazy dream that scared the shit out of me and caused me to wake from my coma, though I don’t remember what it was about.

So, I’m cutting it a little close here today. The only reason I actually remembered that I have a blog to post is that I was forced into watching the first episode of a show called ‘Awkward’, and it’s about a girl who has a blog or some shit like that.

Three minutes into the episode, I realized that I had forgotten that I have responsibilities. Do you know what this means? Not only do you get a crappy blog post with crappy excuses, you also get the bad news that I’ve been like this since Wednesday, and so my book is 3,000 words behind where it should be.

I am honestly considering throwing in the towel, as every word I type here seems to be draining me of any ability to give a shit. Maybe it’s a side-effect of actually sleeping. Maybe being an Insomniac also causes you to become an Empath. I don’t even know, and frankly, I don’t give a shit (again, blame it on the drugs).

Do you guys want to remember something pleasant? Remember when I was actually funny? Yeah, I think that happened for like, three consecutive days a few weeks ago. Good times in Telea-land, right? Right? Oh, no one is saying right. Moving on.

My question of the day for you, in the hopes that you’re going to answer it, isssss…

What helps you get motivated to write? What do you do when you’re having a bad writing day? How do you get around not wanting to write about certain things? I’m at all loss.

I am also looking for a new tea flavor, as I’ve gotten sick of my French Vanilla regular and am craving something a little more bold.

Love ya!