So some of you may know that I submitted an entry to the Dragon Age: Asunder Creative writing challenge. I don’t normally do writing contests or even write short stories, so this was kind of a big deal for me to just go ahead and take the plunge.

Now, I didn’t win and as cool as it would have been to pick David Gaider’s brain, I am still pretty excited about the whole process. (To be honest, I didn’t expect to even be a finalist as I reaaaally skirted the continuity line. It definitely isn’t something that’s mentioned but I like to think it’s something that could have happened in a character’s past. But I digress)

I accomplished two things that I’ve avoided as a writer. Yay, personal growth. Also, now that the contest is over, I can share it with all of you.

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Or as it will undoubtedly later be known as “That list about why I fucking love Amanda Palmer”.

1.

neil and i got engaged two years ago, on new year’s day…the first day of 2010.
i had played at symphony hall with the boston pops the night before, and then there was a raucous and historic new year’s celebration in the attic my house, the cloud club. i don’t think we’ve ever had that many dancing drunk people on the top floor at the same time, with music quite as bombastic, and quite that many people making out…. the floor groaning under the weight of the joy. the next morning, i was hung. OVER.

way hungover.

neil loves telling this story, and i always get embarrassed when he tells it. usually it’s hard to embarrass me. so i’ll tell it and maybe it’ll be less embarrassing forever.

according to neil – and i do remember this – i told him i’d marry him in bed the night before.
but he said: you’re drunk. we’ll discuss it in the morning.

he had a good point.

in the morning, i told him i still meant it.
but we agreed that it was quite possible i was still drunk.

also a good point.

so we went out to eat.

but a little background: he’d been asking me to marry him for months; it was a running joke at that point.
he had the habit of turning to me a few times a day and saying, very non-nonchalantly: will you marry me?
and i’d come up with different creative versions of

No.

at one point, i think i started saying

Maybe.

….maybe.

but we both think i’d probably really decided on

Yes.

well before i was drunk on new year’s eve, while i was putting on my costume backstage at symphony hall in boston.
i was a bundle of pre-rachmaninoff nerves and twittering (the old school way. with my voice) to my friend becca, aka becca darling, aka the beecharmer blog-keeper, aka melissa mahony in the “oasis” video.

neil walked into the dressing room to grab something and i turned to becca and said:

“what do you think? do you think i should marry neil gaiman?”

becca, in classic deadpan becca style, nodded.

i said

“you’re probably right.”

and i think that’s when neil and i knew we were going to get married.

the new year’s concert itself was a hit, and a quick youtube search will show you the boston pops backing me on both rachmaninoff AND lady gaga tunes (a first, i believe, at symphony hall in one evening).
and the afterparty, as i said, was epic.

and there i was….hungover.

it was a cold, clear snow-on-the-ground new england winter day, and after peeling ourselves out of bed, we walked down the slushy street to have brunch with my father jack, his wife donna, and my half-brother alex. settling down at the lovely trident cafe on newbury street, i ordered a burrito and a giant smoothie which i promptly threw up in the bathroom.

on the walk home, i was that wonderfully unsteady, buzzy brand of post-hangover-puking, and i remember having to hang onto neil to keep from yakking again in the street.
and as romantic as it sounds….well, it actually was a bit romantic. i felt his caretaking love for me like a warm blanket around my shoulders. i have issues with feeling cared for. i’m always suspicious that there will be a creeping judgment slithering under the surface, a price to be exacted. but all i felt was this english guy walking next to me, with his arm around my shoulder, grinning a wild grin and turning to me occasionally saying “i love you so much.” i felt really, deeply loved in a way i never had. and that feeling had been growing there, having taken root a long while before that. i didn’t know whether to trust it or not.

and

i don’t believe in marriage, i thought to myself.

what am i doing?

i also remember thinking: i may never find a person, a lover, who loves me this much without casting judgement on who i am, what i do.

(on a side note: neil says that one of the moments he realized that *I* really loved *him* was the time he was sick with the flu in a texas hotel room. he puked in the bathroom, and when he came back to bed i still made out with him. that’s love, he said.)

we turned the corner into a little alley that leads from massachusetts avenue to my house. in a little clearing he got down on one knee, in the snow.

i said yes.

and he had no ring, so he drew a ring on my finger with a sharpie. and he kept refreshing it for the next few days.

-Amanda Fucking Palmer

2. She calls herself ‘Amanda Fucking Palmer’.
3. She travels around playing a ukelele and does ‘ninja performances’.
4. The Short Film “Statuesque”

5. She never seems to use capital letters.
6. She spent 6 years as a living statue.
7. “The Perfect Fit”, “Coin Operated-Boy” and “Girl Anachronism” (To name a few)
8. Amazing taste in clothing and shoes.
9.

“it’s funny: sometimes i forget that people are judging me. most of the time i’m so fucking high on my own ideas and impulses that i forget someone might disagree with a single one of them.

this is, i think, the only way to ever move forward.

this is, i think, the only way to make art.

not good art. not bad art….

ANY art.”

10. For better or worse, I feel she is genuine.

You inspire me.

And more than anything.

You remind me–even in the dark–I am not alone.

Thank you.

My New Years Resolution is simple, but simeltaneously simply just what I need. I am going to focus on what inspires me. Beautiful things. Ugly things. Things that make your mind numb because it falls into a tizzy just trying to wrap around them. Things that reach you by some means or other.

Things like this. This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Thank you, Ali Baker (@alibakes) for sharing this over twitter with the rest of the world.

So as you know the lovely Blake Northcott has asked me to join her in writing the upcoming werewolf series, Luna. But you may be wary–other werewolves have burned you in the past. You’re jaded–you’re cautious. You don’t know what to expect.  Well, let me put your minds at ease.

There will be none of this in LUNA:

or this:

And there will be absolutely be NONE of this:

Hopefully now you can sleep at night.

So if you’ve never had Funeral Potatoes before, here’s how I used to make it (before I gained that pesky lactose intolerance). Worry not, fellow lactards, I’m working on making a lactard-friendly recipe.

Ingredients:

• 32 oz bag of frozen shredded hash browns
• 2 (10 3/4 oz) cans cream of chicken soup OR cream of mushroom soup
• 2 cups sour cream
• 1 1/2 cup grated cheddar cheese (This may vary)
• 1/2 cup melted butter or margarine
• 1/2 c. chopped onion (I use yellow or white onions)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350

Grease 9×13 baking dish – Some Pam will do but in true Mormon fashion, more butter works too!

In large bowl combine soup, sour cream, onions, and the 1/2 cup of melted butter.

Add in hash-browns gradually to mixture. It’s a weird process dealing with frozen hash-browns and goop but it’ll be worth it in the end!

Put mixture in pan.

Sprinkle cheese over mixture until it creates a nice layer. You can also add cheese into the mixture itself if you’d like. (Some people also put cornflakes on the top of this dish but frankly I think that’s kinda gross)

Bake for 30 minutes.

CONSUME AS YOU ARE NOW A FUNERAL POTATO ZOMBIE