Like many self-loathing writers out there, I have signed up for the NaNoWriMo contest, in which participants attempt to churn out a 50,000-word novel during the month of November. It breaks down to about 1,666 words a day, and more if you're feeling saucy or anticipate maybe falling ill one day or your computer exploding.

This is my first year attempting it, and I'd like to make it. I'm well on my way and up-to-date on my word count, currently clocking in at 9,990 words. They're not GOOD words, mind you. You're supposed to leave editing for December and just churn out story. It's not focused on creativity; it's assumed you're creative enough if you're simply attempting it. The main focus is output, perseverance, stamina.

Well, so now that I've told you about it, hopefully I'll be able to see it through, or else I'll have egg all over my face. And we all know how much I hate that! RIGHT, GUYS?

In other news, here are some pictures from my first Improv Comedy show at UCB Theater. A good time was had by all. I wish I had taken more pictures!

Upright Citizens in Training

To all of you who think I am "suddenly snarky," I'd like to turn your attention to a Random Month In 2004. I literally scrolled to the bottom of this page and clicked on the first link I saw. I will spare you reading it all, but I'd like to point out that the following things happened in those entries:

• I told everyone their lives were depressing without me.
  
• I called video game developers schmucks who thought they could stick some pixels together in a wacky storyline and call it fun.
  
• I threatened to stop updating unless my readers suggested a better game.
  
• I voiced the wish to kill members of the media with my mind.
  
• I said many, many bad words and used caps lock to express my disgust towards people who got mad at a mayor.
  
• I insulted the pope.
  
• I suggested America might be better off if we were all eaten by zombies.
  
• I expressed my desire to pet a kitten.
  
• I yelled at an ergonomic keyboard for existing.
  

So, yes. I get fired up. I have always gotten fired up. I thought that was kinda the whole reason you kids came here.

I still love YOU, you know. I hate a lot of things, but I love you.

Prop STFU will make it illegal for voters of both parties to blabber endless political rhetoric via Facebook status, blogs, and Twitter, and generally stop pissing Lauren off so much. I don't care who you voted for. I don't care why you feel the need to tell everyone. I wish you would STFU.

You, kid. Yes, the one I added to my Facebook because I was your camp counselor 5 years ago. You're 13 damn years old. I seriously don't care WHAT you're afraid America will do. If it were up to you, the damn Red Ranger would be on the ballot, so kindly STFU.

Our children are our future, yes, but children are also very stupid. I should know. I was a child once, and there was maybe a week or so where I was also very stupid. Maybe 1% of them can actually slog through nonpartisan rhetoric and make their own decisions based on the best possible outcome for all the children of the world, but I'm wagering the other 99% are going with what their parents have told them, or what Mr. Jokey Celebrity told them, or who looks most like grandpa or a rapper. Just STFU.

The greatest thing about this country is our ability to make our own decisions as citizens, and most of you people are making me wish I lived in communist Russia, where candidates vote for YOU. I'm tired of your petty fights via status updates. I'm tired of you taking a stand because you think it's the cool one, and then feeling smug that your zinger made you a cooler person by proxy. I am SO tired of you threatening to move to Canada. BOTH parties. I have named both my fists "Canada" for the next time I hear someone say they want to go there.

You bragging about who you voted for and how scared you are if the other guy wins just reeks of a sophomoric agenda that you're out to get everyone else to like you. I don't have a problem with sitting down and discussing your opinions with friends or willing listeners, because then you will actually be questioned and participate in intellectual discussion, and it will look like you didn't just ask Chett McJockstein which political party would he rather date, and went with that one.

People are stupid. Families and friends are stupid. People who walk into a soiree and make fun of an entire political party without first making sure one other person in the room shares their beliefs? Oh, you'd better believe they're stupid.

This year, do your research. Go against what family members are doing. Make decisions independently of your friends. Listen to their opinions, but factor them ALL into the equation, read between the lines, and make the best decision for YOU.

You hold the key to our future, so don't fuck it up! And don't tell me about it unless I ask you! (I won't.)

My parents called yesterday, and I realized I forgot to share with them my brilliant idea for a Halloween costume. Knowing they watch movies almost every week, I had them guess, but to no avail.

So I hummed "I am Iron Man," and my dad guessed...Ozzy Ozbourne.
Nice.

No, I didn't want to suit up in the red and yellow chrome, especially since the only Halloween affair I have planned is Melissa's Scary Movies and Pie party tomorrow. So I chose a costume like I always do: How can I use clothes I already have with the least amount of work tacked on at the end to make it look like I made an effort?

So, after some crafty craft work, and a little help from my feline sidekick, I present you with my Halloween costume.

Cave-in-Afghanistan Tony Stark and his fellow captive, Dr. YinScamp

Resumes and unique cover letters sent out this week: 15

Follow-up letters sent out this week: 6

Total jobs applied for: 71*
*Actual number is slightly higher, because I forgot to keep track of some jobs I applied for directly online through networks' job sites. And I didn't count resumes passed along by friends, spur-of-the-moment.

Interviews held: 3

Self-confidence level: Trying not to awkwardly make jokes about that that guy who couldn't get a job and ended up killing his whole family. Too soon?

But seriously: Have I been spelling my name wrong? Accidentally typing "YOUR COMPANY SUCKS" instead of "Hardworking and reliable"? I'm not applying to be a rocket surgeon or something ridiculously out of my league here.

So in my quest to Get Out More, Meet New People, and generally Be a Cooler Person Like I Was In Japan, I enrolled myself in a few classes. One was Improv 101 with the Upright Citizens Brigade. I did improv for a stint in Pittsburgh a few years ago, but let's just say that the conditions were less than ideal...five people in the audience, comedy power struggles, being a token owner of female anatomy.

It's been great fun, and I hope I continue to learn a lot and eventually get much better. The one good thing about it is, unlike my stand-up, where I used to arrive 3 hours early to the venue to recite my act over and over and over, you literally cannot prepare for improv. You're funny and focused or you're not. My mom actually can't even watch "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" because she says she gets too nervous that they won't come up with something, when they're the LAST people who need to be worried about.

Anyway, so as part of perfecting the craft, we're required to see a few professional shows at the UCB theater throughout the course to see how it should be done, and a friend from class and I caught the late show tonight that included our teacher. It was very humbling and very funny, and totally worth the zero dollars it cost to get in with my student ID. Okay, that sounds backhanded. It seriously was awesome.

Anyway, so I'm walking out of the theater, and I see the teacher surrounded by audience members -- some regulars, someone I assumed was a girlfriend, other miscellaneous friends who caught the show. Let me just let you all into a little internal monologue as I was walking out.

*Oh, there's David! Should I say hi? Nah, he's probably busy with everyone congratulating him. But what if he saw me when the lights came up? Oh, and I said on Sunday I was coming to the show. I don't want him to think I'm some liar or a kiss-ass. Well, maybe a kiss-ass is okay, because when I was a teacher in Japan, I loved the kiss-asses. They tried the hardest! To gain my approval! Oh, he saw me.*

Dave: Hey!
Lauren: Hey, great show.
Dave: Thanks. It's Lauren and Aaron, right?
Lauren: That's us.
(He turns to his girlfriend.)
Dave: They're from the Thursday class.

*Thursday? Today's Thursday. Our class is Sunday. Should I correct him? WAIT, was it a joke? Improv people are always making jokes. Should I laugh? Too late to laugh now. Why didn't Aaron correct him? Is he wondering why *I* didn't correct him? God, this silence is excruciating. Think of something. COME ON.*

Dave: Yeah, the last class was great. Sunday.

*Is he correcting himself? Is this a joke too? AH, what to say? A humorous reference to class? To his show? To topical pop culture?*

Dave: (to girlfriend) So...where did you park?
Lauren: I guess I'm off. Great job again!

(Dave shakes hands with Aaron, and waves to me. I instinctively put my hand out, too, and he shakes it after a millisecond of hesitation.)

Lauren: Are girls supposed to shake hands? I don't know what we do. Salute?
(Awkward chuckle.)
Dave: I don't know.
(I salute him.)

And then I walked away feeling like that old Chris Farley sketch where he interviews cool people and acts dumb the whole time, and then ends up hitting himself in the head and saying, "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I want to stress that I have no reason to feel awkward. He is really funny, but I've been in the presence of funny before. I don't know what's wrong with me. I guess I was caught up in trying to be a humble audience member, improv comedian in training, student meeting teacher outside of class, don't try too hard to be jokey, but don't be boring either, and instead of juggling these things, I just kind of watched them splat around me.

As I was opening my car door, I did realize the upside to all this. I think I feel more comfortable on stage doing improv, than actually having a normal conversation with another human. That's something, right?

The guy behind the counter at Blockbuster smiles at me.

"Sex in the City tonight?"

I'm still holding onto my almost-rented DVD, and I kind of give him a weird look. I wonder if he's mistaking me for some regular. Well, some OTHER regular.

He must have noticed my raised eyebrow.
"Sorry, I'm just usually good at guessing people's movie tastes. Something with Meg Ryan?"

Now I'm feeling a little weird about what's in my hand. I shake my head again.
"I swear I have you pegged for a romantic comedy girl."

"Nope. Serial killer girl." I put Dexter (season two, disk two) on the counter. He looks disappointed and maybe a little afraid. He wishes me a great night a little too earnestly.

Come on. I don't really look like a romantic comedy girl, do I?

Being unemployed and without internet for a month has the unfortunate side effect (besides, you know, the really obvious ones where I fantasize about my own death) of spending a lot of time in public. I don't quite know how to deal with this.

I was just asked by a fellow Starbucks patron if I minded watching over her stuff, and I cheerfully agreed before looking over to notice a table overflowing with textbooks, laptops, a pile of scary-looking documents, and a satchel that very likely contains uncut diamonds. So now instead of squinting over my computer, tabbing between job searches and lolcats (to keep my sanity), I have been enrolled as bodyguard to her life's work, and I have to keep looking up and giving the stink eye to every customer who enters. How long will this be? She muttered where she was going, which I foolishly assumed was "the bathroom," but she left through the only exit, and is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she said Mexico, and I made a verbally binding agreement to continue her important document research in the event of her death.

Seriously, what if *I* wanted to leave? I don't, but that's not the point. I deserve at LEAST a Starbucks lemon bar as payment.

Then when I got here, I had to ask the guy next to me if I could use his outlet, because this blasted laptop has the battery power of my Lemonade Passion Tea. This apparently obliged me to listen to his life story for half an hour, which actually was pretty interesting. He's an Indian American sitar player from San Fransisco and wanted to know what cool stuff was in the area. Then he was complaining because he came here to play with an international ensemble, and they're making him practice too much. But it is hard to apply for jobs and give tourism advice, so I eventually had to excuse myself.

Oh, and then, since this is LA, I saw a celebrity! Adam Arkin from NBC's "Life," watchable Mondays and Fridays! First season DVD now available! And their writing staff is very attractive.
Anyway, I saw him, and I smiled at him, and maybe someday he'll do me. That's how it works in Hollywood, right? I don't mind a silver fox.

Yeah, I guess getting out in public isn't so bad.