November is coming up quickly.

I have an announcement: I signed up for National Novel Writing Month last week.

I started this blog with the intention of using it to get back into the groove of writing daily. I haven't exactly done that, but it has gotten me thinking about writing daily, which is more often than I have for quite a few years now. I have things to say, things that maybe no one will want to read, but things that I have to say anyway.

I was planning on just posting random blog entries with my thoughts on various things: being raised Mormon, moving to an extremely liberal city after spending the first twenty-five years of my life in the Midwest, the weird stigma against a grown woman choosing to use pads instead of tampons, etc, etc. What I've realized, though, is that it's possible for me to string all of the disparate things into a (hopefully) cohesive story, hence the NaNo sign up.

Also, my roommate convinced me to sign up after one of her friends convinced her to sign up, so there's that.

I've always written best under pressure, so I'm sure thing is going to end up being a good thing. I guess we'll see. I still have a few weeks before I realize that my 'write by the seat of my pants' approach to things is probably not the best way to go into a 50k word challenge.

Oh well. What's life without a ridiculous amount of self-inflicted stress?

This is not a movie review

I went to see The Martian today and it was amazing. Funny, suspenseful (even having read the book), moving, just an overall wonderful movie.

But this post isn't about the movie. This post is about what happened to me at the theater.

I got there half an hour early because I figured a matinee on opening weekend would be packed, and it was. I sat one seat in from the aisle; I don't like aisle seats but I regret not sitting there when I had the chance.

About ten minutes after I sat down, two women and a man sat down in the seats to my left, with the man in the seat next to me. He immediately took over the armrest, so I moved my soda to the cup holder on my right and figured I'd just lean to the right if I wanted to lean at all.

(I hurt my neck and right shoulder by sleeping funny last night and since I couldn't and still can't turn my head to the right without excruciating pain, I wasn't sure I'd be leaning at all, but I do like to have that option in movie theaters.)

About five minutes before the previews started, a man, probably last forties to fifty, sat down in the aisle seat to my right and immediately commandeered the armrest. Which, whatever, I probably wasn't going to be using it anyway.

The problem came about half an hour into the movie. The man to my right started doing that things that men do, where the spread out to take up as much space as possible and his elbow ended up pressed against my side. I moved as far to my left as possible, but there wasn't really any place for me to go. Every time the man to my right reached over to scratch his arm (which was probably every 10-15 minutes for the entire two hours that was remaining of the movie), his hand would press against my arm.

In order to avoid unwanted contact with a complete stranger, I ended up contorting my upper body into more and more uncomfortable positions, trying not to cry from how badly my shoulder hurt, while this man continued to invade my personal space, seemingly without a qualm.

At one point near the end of the movie, his elbow was pressed against my belly almost directly above my belly button, which would have been impossible if he hadn't been leaning completely over the armrest between us.

When did it become okay for this sort of thing to happen?

I suppose I could have gotten up and tried to find a new seat, but the theater was full and I didn't feel like trying to find a seat in the dark while everyone else in the room was trying to watch the movie. Besides, I shouldn't have had to move; you go to a movie with the expectation that the space where you're going to be sitting is yours for the duration of the movie and that everyone else will stay in their own space.

What's so ridiculous about this is that this man was on the aisle; there was literally no one to the other side of him. He could have leaned as much as he liked to the right and not bothered a single soul, but instead, he chose to lean into me and severely impact my movie-going experience.

I loved The Martian, I really did, but if I had today to do over again, I would've stayed home and had my personal space to myself.