So, I Wrote a Novel.

The month long craziness finally came to an end, and with 5 days to spare too, on Wednesday November 25, 2009 just moments before the clock stuck midnight, I had successfully written 50,000 words thus becoming a winner of nanowrimo. I can look back on the experience and wipe my brow and tell you it was cake, and sometimes it was, sometimes I was in a zone so fueled with creative inspiration that I would look up and realize I missed my stop and the bus I was on was carrying me farther than where I planned on going, and like this novel I have traveled above and beyond that which I thought I was capable. Yet other times it wasn't so easy, other times I was staring at a blank screen and a blinking cursor cursing myself for undertaking a seemingly impossible feat, but I kept my head down and my fingers typing and I came out on the end side with a novel. It's not a great novel, it's not even a finished one, but it's a start. I'm drained and excited and proud of myself and I guess that's the whole point of nanowrimo, self satisfaction, a frenzy of words and idea, a testament of will, and a great jumping off point to start the second draft. That being said, I need to hang up my writer's cap, take a little break and do the things that I was unable to as I raced to the finish line, like read my book, hang out with people, and most importantly sleep.

Interest in Love.

I can only suspect my father's giddiness at my mother's new found interest because that meant he could indulge and enjoy his own interest without the questioning eye of my mother. Now he was able to share them with her which brings us to Comicon, short for comic convention, a weekend long event held all over the country, actually all over the world, celebrating artist and writers and comic and merchandise and anything and everything in between related to comics, included in the everything was a costume contest which yes if you're thinking it, you are absolutely right, my parents in all their twenty something awesomeness donned costumes the following year, entered a contest and got second place.

Years later my parents would show me a faded colored picture of themselves standing on the stage being presented with their second place sash, my dad looking proud and a little sheepish and my mom beaming with excitement tail in hand, and yes explanation of the tail is coming, but first I want to say that I saved this particular photo and downloaded it into my cranial hard drive for a number of reasons, but mainly because this photo captured in my mother's eyes a change that I would continue to see in pictures from then on; on occasion I have attributed this look to the picture quality or the excitement of the moment or the angle in which the photo was taken, yeah they had to manually take photos and then have then developed, crazy, I know, but no matter what the reason, I keep coming back to my own hypothesis that it was this moment that my mother knew she was going to marry my father or at least be with him for the rest of her life, perhaps it was the fact that they were sharing a very public moment together for the first time and in some ways it reminded my mother of a wedding ceremony but whatever the reason, from then on, there was a glimmer in my mother's eyes that said to anyone who took the time to notice, that she had found the love of her life.

Watch Me.

Eventually my mother came around and lucky for me she did or else I wouldn't be here to tell you this story. Anyways, back to my father, the type of guy who didn't give a damn about about what people thought about him or so he led everyone to believe, that's what my mother thought until she got to know him, see my father didn't give off the air of someone who thought he was better than everyone else and thus didn't care what everyone thought, on the contrary, he was extremely self conscious and what people mistook for aloofness was actually insecurity and self doubt coupled with patience and objectivity.

Thanks piterart!

He was naturally rational and perceived the world around him in a very analytical way, to my father, emotions and feeling a certain way didn't play a significant role in the outcome of a situation, rather logical and reason were the deciding factors.

So it didn't matter that he was a twenty something reading his comic books, or should I say graphic novels on the bus, but if you paid attention every once on awhile you will see a grown up kid at heart pulling out the latest edition of a graphic novel series from his (or her) bag on the bus and assume the position of the child they were many moon ago enjoying the fantasy of a marriage between pictures and words on the way to school. My mother scoffed at my father for wasting all his money on comics until one day she after the steadfast insistence of my father, my mother picked up and read, her very first comic book, The Watchmen.

Thanks mediamolecule!

The Watchmen written by the epic writer Alan Moore, was probably a good pick for my mother to start with because with that particular book she saw how capivating and well written a comic book could be and upon finishing it she wanted more, and just like that my mother the skeptic became a comic book fan.

First Sight.

I was telling you about my father the quiet genius who I guess now that I look back on it was ultimately responsible for the crazy names that would be the legacy of my family. He made his way into the adult world not giving a care to what anyone thought about him, reading comic books on the bus, picking his nose at his desk, riding his bike in 30 degree weather, well I guess that ones a little crazy but he knew what he liked and indulged his interests because it made him happy. It was the same way with my mother, he knew from day one that he liked her. It wasn't a love at first sight thing, it wasn't even lust at first sight, it was simply like at first sight and my father was the type of person for whom a like could turn into a life long love. I suspect he saw her around briefly, in passing, but the first time he noticed her was a

Thanks Looney 1!

winter day typical of the pacific northwest climate, my mother was sitting cross legged on a twin bed in her friend's dorm room. My mother and her friend Yanni were studying or so they said, later I would found out they were eating Stoffer's lasagna and Tim's jalapeno chips lamenting how school sucks, pining for the weekend, wondering if Paula would have another party, while playing an animated computer game called Booty Call in which the main objective was to get Jake laid, (trust me I had a hard time hearing that this was the kind of activity my mother engaged in). Yanni progressing through the game, occasionally asking if Jake, should go to the jacuzzi or stay in the house and go upstairs, when there was a knock at her door. It was my father looking like the 18 year old punk that he was asking for a cigarette and also if Yanni could introduce him to her friend sitting on the bed. Yanni tossed him a cigarette and told him to get lost. My mother and Yanni were mean to my father back then, not really mean they just held him at arms length not yet sure that he was worthy to be friends with them. It wasn't like they were being elitist and thought people were lucky to be there friend, it was just that they were meeting so many new people that they couldn't be friends with all of them, they couldn't extend themselves to all of them, they had to test drive so to speak these friendships to see it fit.

Thanks PJM!

Yanni and my mother were a package deal in college, you couldn't get one without the other, so I guess it worked in my mothers favor that Yanni also decided my father was cool enough to be friends with them because that was just the first of many attempts my father would make at asking Yanni to help him get my mother to fall in love with him.

Comicon.

Since then my mother learned how to be pushy without actually touching anyone but rather than it being a quality that was revered, it sometimes has the effect of being off putting and annoying, but at least she wasn't pushing people down hills anymore. So here was a fictional television character that my mother looked up to and thought about dressing up as for Halloween but was unable to pull off, although she did tell me that Starbuck didn't have a distinct enough look to do a costume, yet she showed me a picture of her Internet friend who was successful in mimicking this character. All the way on the other side of the world, a girl in Australia was donning the perfect kick ass Starbuck gear for a costume contest at Comicon. Comicon? you ask, well to tell you about Comicon I need to tell you about my father, he was the one that sparked these scifi show watching, comic book reading interest in my mother. I guess it added to my mothers interest that at around the time my father was planting these seeds in my mothers head, she met someone that would be her friend for the rest of her life and he too liked comic books and Battlestar too. His name was Fernando, Uncle Ferd as I would call him, but his story comes later

Push.

I would like to say that I dutifully assumed my role as the eldest child and was very responsible and helped my parents out as much as I could and strayed away from devious, experimental, rebellious teenage behavior

Thanks PrAsanGaM

and I tried to impress upon the younger children to do the same and for the most part it worked. Kara and Lee, the twins who were two years younger than me held me in such high regard, they looked up and idolized me even wanting to be me. I'm not trying to flatter myself here, I see all those skeptics rolling their eyes thinking 'yeah, right' but I swear to you it's true. Kara and Lee were also named after characters in Battlestar Galactica, they were fighter pilots in Galactica's fleet and had cool nicknames. Kara also known as Starbuck and Lee was also known as Apollo (thank goodness, the twins didn't end up with those nicknames as real names, my youngest brother, wasn't so luck though, his name is Number Seven, no really it is). Starbuck was a real bad ass and I sometimes think my mother wanted to be her, like have that no nonsense approach to everything and be able to stand up physically and mentally to any man in this world and have the confidence to actually try to take a man down in a fist fight. My mother liked to think she could do what Starbuck did but she wasn't into violence and causing physical harm to others. I think she got that out of her system when she was in the sixth grade and accidentally pushed her friend down a hill and had to go to the principal's office. Her friends thought it was fun to pretend fight with each other and would push each other around and sometimes throw in a slap or grab a fistful of hair and then when things got right to the tipping point where someone could get hurt they would retreat, comb through their hair with their fingers, smooth out their clothes, give each other a sheepish smile and got back to gossiping about boys. But one sunny afternoon, my mother, an awkward, lanky girl of 12 didn't know when enough was enough and when her fighting partner was trying to pull away, my mother kept pushing and pushing and pushing until there was no where else to push and with one final shove, her friend went tumbling down the hill.

Thanks raphael gerber!

My mother never physically pushed anyone after that day when she sat with her head hung low as her father a big physically imposing man standing at six foot four inches walked into the principals office and with his huge pigskin throwing hands took my mother's petite piano playing fingers and led her to the parking lot and drove her home disappointment reeking from his silence.

Balancing Act.

Being their very first pet, the very first thing other then themselves that they had to take care of, my parent's had yet to learn the fine balance of tough love which is like walking a tight rope, lean even just a little to one side and you'll fall and you'll fail and you'll lose whatever upper hand you had and back then neither of my parents had very good "balance" so to speak although it was one skill that my father liked to boast about having, so instead of giving her a firm no when she walked on the kitchen counters they tiptoed around GB and sometimes said no and sometimes said nothing at all and most always ended up with fur in their food. My mother dismissed it saying Gaius Baltar was her little baby and could do no wrong and my dad, well my dad the eternal moderate never wanting to cause conflict, never wanting to confront anything, always wanting to have peace hung out in the gray area and let Gaius Baltar do whatever she wanted.

I have to take a moment to digress and say that that was my parents then raising their first cat, they learned a little more about balancing with they're second cat, Serenity, and a little more with their third, Boomer so by the time they finally had children my mother's real little baby, me, could do lots of wrong but because she loved me so much she wasn't about to tiptoe around me, she would set me straight so I wouldn't turn out as bratty as GB and because of her, I would grow up to have a very clear sense about right and wrong, I would learn later that, like my father, sometimes taking the middle ground is the best way to go.

As for my father, as being a father he continued to keep a level head and didn't say much but when he did, he spoke words of wisdom that would stay with me for life so it became that I had the freedom to do what I wanted but I knew my limits because I didn't want to disappoint my parents, and what more can parents ask for? But more than that my parents deserved well behaved children I mean they were in their sixties after all when they had us and then in their seventies when we were all going through those angst filled teen years. Man that must have been the worst!