SATURDAY. 11:37 AM. It's entirely possible that this year, 2001, has been the subject of some government or alien experiment in temporal acceleration. And because each of us on this planet are not outside the frame of reference, we cannot tell. But, my god, it's December! Year three is almost over.

December 1. World Aids Day. Here are a few good links for today:

[ World AIDS Campaign 2001 ]
[ CDC: Divisions of HIV/AIDS Prevention ]
[ International AIDS Vaccine Initiative (IAVI) Petition ]

It's a pretty dreary, rainy day in San Francisco. I am at a loss for what to do with myself. November was so busy. I just have to recovery and regroup a little.

Last night was pretty crappy. I had wanted to go out and celebrate that I had finished National Novel Writing Month, that I am officially on the winners list, that I took the GREs and did reasonably well, and that I finished my graduate school applications and mailed them without delay. I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to congratulate myself. And I did. I just did all of it by myself. Once again, the universe conspired to take all of my fun. Everyone I wanted to see and party with bailed. It sucked. I'm a little angry, a little disappointed, a little frustrated, a little lonely. And again I'm looking for some affirmation outside of myself. I guess I'll learn eventually. I wanted to share in my accomplishments. Is that so horrible? Is that so wrong? Isn't that why we have big parties, award ceremonies, go-go dancers, and personal websites?

I saw Jennifer last night, the co-owner of POW and a fellow NaNoWriMo writer. I hadn't talked to her in a couple of weeks, but she crossed the finish line, too!

Well, I guess the first order of business for today is to get up, get cleaned up, and get something to eat. We'll see what else comes up that might be fun. I have the NaNoWriMo End Party tonight. That should be pretty cool. And tomorrow we're gaming for the first time in over a month. I need to plan for that, too. Of course, I could always work on my novel some more. I guess I have plenty to do. I just feel like being lazy and grouchy.

Happy December!

A special message to all the National Novel Writing Month writers out there:

The night has waned, the clock has ticked day's last
as hand and word and thought and heart do fade
and midnight came like sudden death too fast
to steal away a month of labor made.
A month begun with hope and honest oaths
to fill the empty book and draught the page
with plot and fancy tale and fiction's clothes
cut wide from life, from dream, from youth, from age.
Some boots are soft and kind and speed the gait,
some shoes are worn and steps are slowly laid,
and though the march must press and never wait,
all those who dared the walk are winners made.
     For triumph may be fifty-thousand done,
     but every thousand words began as one.

--EYC '01

Congratulations to everyone who tried, who wrote, who dared, who saw the possibility in themselves. Brass rings for all. Laurel crowns for all. Cheers for all.

SUNDAY. 10:42 AM. I'm a little tired but it's all right. I had a pretty decent night last night at the NaNoWriMo End Party. It was held at a converted warehouse space on the border between SoMa and Mission. The place was amazing. It was like walking into a Real World house -- the main room (and I mean main) had cathedral ceilings with exposed timber framing, two fireplaces, an amazing kitchen with natural stone countertops, and enough room for nearly two hundred people. There was much talking, much reading of the samples people brought and pinned up around the room, much drinking, and much letting go. It makes me a little misty thinking about it. I hope that we all continue to communicate and hang out between NaNoWriMos. Kudos to the NaNoWriMo staff, to Lauren, to Matt M. (who was the cutest American guy there), to Dustin, to Pip (who was the cutest British guy there), to Carli, to Jennifer, to Elizabeth, to Matt N. (of the famous clam dip), and to everyone else! (As an aside, there were a complete lack of available queer men at the party. I think there was a complete lack of queer men period. Isn't that a statistical impossibility in San Francisco?)

The other little highlight was yet again proving that I'm a complete dork when it comes to anyone of even vague celebrity status. Dustin and I were standing near the keg (big surprise), when some new people showed up to the party. One of them, a woman with blond tresses and white ruffled shirt came in. Dustin remarked on how she reminded her of some actress. I looked at her and said, "You know who she really looks like... Kat from Real World London." I look again and am convinced that it's her. So, we're all wearing dorky nametags. I lean over to look at hers and it does say "Kat." So I have to talk to her. I walk over and say "I know you're going to totally hate this, but I just wanted to say I recognize you." She seemed embarrassed. She was very sweet. She participated in NaNoWriMo. We talked about writing and our novels and drank. It was fun.

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