There was probably a cat, too.

As much as I love writing, I have never been able to write decent fiction. (Ok, there was a story in 4th grade that was not only written but illustrated by me...it was about a team of magical pink and purple animals who fought crimes like littering. The leader was a unicorn. I think there was also a panda and a bunny. I don't remember who else made an appearance. Oh, if only that was a joke...) 

I find that every time I try fiction, it ends up a bit like fan fiction one has written about oneself. Characters end up as shadows of the brightly colored characters in my own life. Adventures change, circumstances are altered, but the bones of my social circle are there. I'd basically given up the idea and figured I could just live such an awesome life that writing nonfiction would be just as fun. (I've been pretty pleased with the results of that decision, to tell the truth.) 

But now I'm trying my hand at this fiction thing again. Three friends came up with the idea of a collaborative project, so the four of us are all putting together a story. We had our first meeting last week, which ended up a 5 hour session over beer and popcorn. We made our way home at 3am. The goal of our first meeting was to bring characters to the table and see what we had. I figured it was going to be a challenge to work them all together, since we set zero guidelines about the characters. I was fascinated by the whole process. Just as my friends are totally different, so was the writing everyone brought. B laid out scenes like he was directing a movie, revealing his characters' traits in the script. A described the music her characters listen to, the cars they drive, and from there we learned about them. M had ideas jotted down and edited as she spoke, adding more details the whole night. I started off with a general idea and just wrote a story about them, letting the characters tell me who they are. 

It was strange how well they characters we each created fit together. Natural relationships and connections formed. I'm really excited to see where they go. 

You think the rest of the group will object to a sparkly litter-busting unicorn? Just checking. 

Wedding Season. So soon.

Approximately 14% of my friends are planning weddings. 

Not in the way we planned weddings in middle school, when I had to choose which member of 'N Sync I wanted to walk with when my best friend married Justin Timberlake. (I always chose Lance--I really never saw it coming.) I mean real weddings. 

And SO MANY are happening in the sort-of-near-I-guess-I'm-still-waiting-on-official-dates future. I mean, I guess it's not so bad because I'm sure I'll have a lot to say about all of this. My facebook is all pinterest updates and dress fittings. (And how many times a day kids are pooping and shit...I've got to block more of those posts. Nobody cares, really.) 

So basically...this is your heads up. Wedding Season is upon us. Take cover. I have dresses to find and gift registries to peruse. (Seriously, I am not getting you a crème brûlée torch. Unless you swear on your first born that you're making me crème brûlée ASAP. That's how wedding gifts work, right?)

My future, obviously. Great. 

Alone today?

Of course you are. Otherwise you wouldn't be reading Bitter Amanda. On Valentine's Day. Be real. 

Have no fear, though. Here are some things to make you feel better: 

1. This dog who cannot walk in socks. I laughed so hard I cried actual tears. 

2. Red is not a flattering color on everyone. 

3. There is actually zero chance that you'll get dumped tonight if things go badly. There is also zero chance that someone will awkwardly propose to you way too early in the relationship because he's pretty sure that's what he should do next. In public. Hooray! No accidentally choking on diamond rings for you! Walk into work confident tomorrow, knowing that while you're alone, you're also no more alone that you were on Valentine's Day. That might not be the case for some people. 

Here's to 50% off chocolate tomorrow, friends! 

No party like a knitting party.

I went to a knitting party. 

We had a drink and our teacher assured us that the fancy scarf she was holding was within our reach. She said it would take us 5 minutes to learn. 

We looked at each other dubiously, but tucked in and got ready to learn. I was among 2 previous knitters in a group of 9. My knitting experience began when I was about 9 years old and my grandmother taught me. I wasn't very good, but what I lacked in talent I made up for with diligence and enthusiasm. I would knit the skein of pink yarn she gave me into a long scarf-like object, then unravel it and start again. It looked better each time. I didn't knit an actual object until much later, in college. I think I made two scarves and stopped. 

Which brings us to the knitting party several weeks ago. So...not a lot of experience on my end, exactly. The technique came back to me as I became singularly focused on my soon-to-be-scarf. We were using some fancy yarn that's basically a doily you can use to knit. It was a challenge. Soon, the beginnings of a scarf began to form! 

I took a break here to sit next to friends and walk them through the process. After 90 minutes, most of us had a decent handle on what we were doing--and it got really, really quiet. We were roaring with laughter at the start, shouting at each other and chatting as we looked for the ends of the yarn. But seriously, once we got going it was a library. It felt like when you're having dinner at the end of a long day and the appetizers arrive. Conversation pretty much stops. 

Sidenote? I was inspecting our host's new treadmill and knit about 5 rows while walking on the Eiffel Tower stairs setting. MULTI-TASK MUCH? 

I did finish my scarf, after some serious knitting time. I was determined. So determined, in fact, that I decided to make one for a friend. Went over to the craft store yesterday, only to find that they only had one color of Fancy Yarn--and I hated it. (Well, I hated it for my friend.) So off to the second craft store! I could only locate empty boxes where Fancy Yarn used to live. Tracking down an employee, I inquired about their Fancy Yarn. 

You know what I learned, guys? There are Yarn Groupies. Like, this is a thing. Apparently Fancy Yarn is the hottest yarn in town this season, and it gets snatched up the second it goes on shelves! The employee I spoke with said that on days when they get a shipment, people line up outside the store to get it. 

What. 

Now, I know serious crafters. But I never would have guessed that a fabric store would have a line outside because the Fancy Yarn truck was arriving. 

A Public Service Announcement

Attention, teenagers of the world! (And also a fair amount of adults, and you will know who you are shortly.)   Take a time out and read this; you'll thank me later. So will your teachers. (FORESHADOWING.)

This issue has been lingering in my mind for around 15 years, and has recently been dragged out again. So it's time. I can no longer sit by idly while you commit such heinous crimes. It's inexcusable and will not do. I feel a responsibility, as your dysfunctional Mary Poppins, your nanny and therapist, to set you on the right path here. You very clearly need me.

Romeo and Juliet is a traditional part of high school curriculum.  (It's classic literature and has the added bonus of being a nice little cautionary tale about the dangers of not listening to your family or thinking plans through to the end.) Even if you never had to read it, it's a story most people are familiar with. If you're not, go google it. Seriously, right now. That's embarrassing.

Let's talk about this, right here.

The balcony scene. A lamenting Juliet, a headstrong Romeo.One of the most famous scenes from Romeo and Juliet and possibly Shakespeare in general. Here, familiarize thyself. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHoaPLO6Zd8 (Also, that Romeo is pretty awesome.)

And you're sitting there, asking what I'm babbling about, thinking that you get enough lessons on this in school, and seriously Amanda what the hell?

Wherefore does not mean where. 

Let me repeat that. The word wherefore, as in O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?, does not, not, NOT mean "where." It's not just a longer version of where, like the extra letters in "olde" and "shoppe" when you're at a Renaissance festival. It's a completely different word.

Wherefore means why. When Juliet is by herself, asking "wherefore art thou Romeo," she's not looking for him, not thinking that he's lurking in the garden below. She's a teenage girl, you guys. She just met a cute boy and now she's analyzing the situation. Overthinking it. She's being a teenage girl. Her question is one sent to the universe, asking WHY Romeo is Romeo; why this boy she's smitten with is the same boy she's supposed to hate. Now Romeo, being a teenage boy and doing what they do, which is thinking with his penis, ran to her house and found her window and is trying to figure out the best way to get onto her balcony--take that to mean whatever you like--when he hears her soliloquy.

But Bitter Amanda, how did you stumble upon this brilliant bit of knowledge? Great question.

Now, take THAT to school with you. Your teachers will be mad impressed.

And if I know anything about teenagers, I know that is your number one goal.

Just a quick question.

Have you all gotten into The Lizzie Bennet Diaries? It's amazing. They are a series of youtube videos; a modern adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. And I can't get enough. If you're not familiar, I suggest you go here: http://www.lizziebennet.com/ and get started. It's all over youtube, tumblr, and twitter.

If you have, we should talk about it. Because my head is exploding from everything this cast and crew is doing. It's not only a really well done adaptation, but a brilliant use of social media. ALSO IT IS LIKE CRACK. Just saying. 

Go get started. Seriously, go. 

Someday, when I don't have a million posts on tumblr to look at, we can talk about the perfect man I created in my head. BUT FIRST ALL THE LIZZIE BENNET. 

Now I just need a talking umbrella and a magic bag.

Well, readers, you may have noticed that I went missing for the holidays. Don't worry, it wasn't a Lifetime Movie/evening news kind of missing, I was just on vacation. I was in Finland, where there was a very real possibility of freezing to death. It was -17 F the week before I was there, so it was a serious concern. I took a lot of layers. Luckily, it warmed up and hovered around the freezing point for a good portion of my stay. I survived! 

Since I never have a man in my bed, there are two times in life when I am extra diligent about having clean sheets and laundry. (Calm down, I wash things regularly, but I'm talking off-schedule, hyper aware here. I understand hygiene.) 1. When I go on vacation, and 2. the New Year. 

The first is because there is nothing that kills a vacation buzz faster than coming home to a shithole. When I leave, unless I'm flying out the door for an emergency, I take the time to do laundry, make the bed, put things away. I come home to the calm of a tidy place, confident that the only things out of place will be my mail and gifts my sister leaves. (More mail than gifts WHICH IS WEIRD, TWIN.) Plus, there is room for my unpacked suitcase to hang out for days at a time once I return. Bonus. 

The second is because I believe in fresh starts. Some people call it voodoo, but I like starting a new year clean, dressed, and with my shit in order, figuratively speaking. I think the way you spend NYE can cast a shadow on your year, and you probably don't but that's cool. Believe whatever you like, right? I think if you spend the dawn of a new year in your sweats getting embarrassingly piss drunk by yourself, you're telling the universe that's cool, that's how you roll. I don't tempt fate, guys. I don't care about going to big parties or anything, I just care about who I surround myself with--it's always good people. 

What this all comes down to is that when I left on Christmas night, things were in order around here--that is to say, my belongings were in order. I can't say the same about my affairs. (So to speak.) 

2012 was a big year for me. A scary one. I never told you, but I made a big decision during the summer. I spent a lot of time thinking it over and figuring out the right thing to do. It wasn't fun, but it was necessary. All that thinking resulted in me quitting my job at the end of the summer. It might have been foolish, but I haven't regretted it once since. I love a lot about my profession, and I'll always want to be involved in it in some way, but it's not where my heart is. My career was too young to deal with being unhappy with the whole system. (And I was on the verge of spending a lot of money on a masters degree for it.) So, I took a leap...and resigned. 

I have no idea what's next. That's partly terrifying and partly thrilling. A friend referred to me as Mary Poppins for twenty-somethings. I am actually madly in love with the thought. I've decided that it's going to help form my 2013...that's how I'm going to do things. It'll be all What Would Mary Poppins Do? over here, until I have a better idea. Get ready. I'll let you know what's next. Any ideas? 

Pretty much.