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 |  "All books are either dreams or swords." |
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"All books are either dreams or swords. You can cut, or you can drug, with words." ~Amy Lowell   These are my thoughts on my life and my writing, and how both seem to mix together in an odd confluence of events. I also thought this would be a good place to talk about things I've read both in books and on WDC. Combining all of my addictions all in one place. I warn you now that this will probably make no sense whatsoever and will often times leave you confused. Welcome to my world.  "The soul, secure in her existence, smiles at the drawn dagger and defies its point. The stars shall fade away, the sun himself grow dim with age and nature sink in years, but thou shall flourish in immortal youth, unhurt amid the war of elements, the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds." ~ Joesph Addison The journey continues:
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| The weekend progress I've made so far has gotten my over the 10,000 word hump. I'm still writing and have over four hours until midnight my time so I could definitely get further still with my goal. Its not 30,000 words (let's face it - that was a huge pipe dream) but its a jumping off point. I'm in this until the end, even if it means I don't make it to 50,000 words by next Tuesday. My writing has focused on the hard parts so far. There is no linear movement here, more like me jumping from scene to scene when the moment strikes. This way of writing in weird as I have to remember where I left off, and how long the scene went to keep track of my numbers. Still, somehow this makes sense in my head. I killed off someone in the first few paragraphs of the story. By the end of the third chapter person number two is dead. An even bigger stack of people will be biting the big one as well. I remember reading something from one of my go-to authors' blogs that when you get stuck, kill someone off. At first I thought that was a crack pot idea, but now I'm taking it to heart.  To help me, energy wise, I've been alternating drinking coffee and some powder drink mix called EmergenC, which contains about a 1,000 mg of Vitamin C per packet. I feel like there are microscopic light bulbs flashing on and off through my veins. And yes, it feels just that weird. I'm not sure this will help me in the long run, but its working at the moment. I figured I would give the one reader of this blog a sample of my NaNo, since they've been kind enough to read throughout the year. This is from the very beginning of the story: They will understand soon, he thought as he placed the picture back in front of him. He took his glasses off, folding them neatly, and set them beside his letter. They’ll see why all this had to happen the way it did. The gun glinted dull silver in the lamp light. His gaze never wavered, the clarity of the moment the first he had been gifted in such a long time. With a deep breath, Martin inhaled the scent of his wife one more time, and pulled the trigger. |
| I've had a bit of a comeback. Small. Very small. About the size of a pea. I wrote about 3500 words yesterday in one sitting. That's fantastic for me as 500 words a day is a stretch for me at times. I stopped writing around 1 last night when I realized my hands were shaking from all the coffee I was ingesting. I had to down a sandwich made almost solely of cheese and turkey to get the shakes to go away. Rule to remember: never drink coffee on an empty stomach. I made morbid progress. There is a definite element of the twisted with this work, which it to say I went dark with my writing. In some ways I'm not completely surprised. I should be in a sense but I'm not. The more I write the more I can release some of my own metaphorical demons. Works wonders, really. Cheapest therapy I've ever had. I'm going to put my head back to writing in a minute. My big goal is to at least double my writing if not more. Besides a quick trip to the bank and the pharmacy, I've got nothing (forgetting research  ) I need to do. NaNo all day, oh joy. |
| I edited. I'm down by almost 2,000 words. What possessed me to do that? |
| I've decided to do something crazy - I'm going to strive to hit 30,000 words by Monday afternoon. I'm nutty, I know. I've written some in the past few days, but I have updated my counter yet. You see, I'm going to edit a little, then I'm going to write until I can't think straight. I'm behind. And I have a stack of work I need to do while my semester comes to a close. About three presentations, five to six final papers. Craziness all around. But I want NaNo. I want it to the point where my bones ache. I want that to say on December 1st, "Yes, I have written 50,000 words. I am one of those people." So in a few minutes the lead comes out. I'm going to get myself a biscuit with some pumpkin butter, and a large cup of coffee with a shot of Vitamin B Complex (not that you need to know that). I'm going to crank some music and write until my fingers feel like falling off. The craziness might even be documented for later should my sanity return. 30,000 words - here I come! |
| Aspirations. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I want my writing "voice" to sound like. Every author has something to bring to the table. There's something distinctive about their writing that makes you come back for more. I've been sorting through my collection of paperbacks, wondering what my writing sound like. If I could have a wish, I would like my voice to be a witch's brew of: Neil Gaiman's story-weaving complexity, Jennifer Crusie's humor and snark, Jim Butcher's supernatural flair and underdog perseverance, J.D. Robb's ability to create intricate characters, James Rollins's "holy crap, did that just really happen?" climaxes, early Stephen King's horror genius, Marjorie Liu's ease with paranormal awesomeness, S.J. Rozan's and Harlan Coben's setting/description mastery Thomas E. Sniegoski's gut-wrenching imagery. That's not too much to ask, right?  I didn't think so.  |
| The status of my brain is a big topic in this blog. I apologize. Truth of the matter is my mind is a constant thought - go figure. For the past few weeks I've been battling weirdness and fatigue and I can't seem to keep my head straight. Hence the title. I was watching back episodes of Ghost Whisperer and Camryn Manheim's character was being courted by some guy, and he bought a mime to woo her. This was the line he said at the end. Thought it was hilarious at the time...you had to be there. I've been trying to work on my NaNo, thinking of ways to keep it there at the forefront. Funny thing is that I can't stop thinking about the damn thing, but writing doesn't seem to want to come. I've way behind on my daily counts. Other things, like images and sketches have been helpful though. I've created a Photoshop character tree and found an image for a possible banner. Doesn't help with the count however. I think one of my problems is the fact that there's so much that can be done. In October, during Prep, I had some time to work out an outline of what I wanted my project to be. Yet lately, I've been thinking of tons of other avenues that I want to incorporate, which includes adding another character into the mix, more supernatural badasses and such. If I flew with this idea, this would be a series of books - probably five in all. I know, way too much thinking ahead, but this how its unfolding IN my head. To help grease the wheels I've decided to write my main character in first-person and my other characters in third-person. This is a big no-no I've been told, but hey, its okay because its NaNo. I just want to write without restraint, without this fuzziness that keeps clouding my head. Whether real or imagined, damn, it enough already. So, back to the writing. I'm making a CD of the music I've been using while writing. Hopefully that'll help. Oh, and below is the banner I made this afternoon procrastinating. You have to click to get a better view. Tell me what you think. |
| *WARNING: Brain malfunctions will make this somewhat incoherent.* I've been pretty brain dead the past couple of days, but I should have a class reprieve by noon tomorrow after I finish my paper on Acculturation and turn it in. I'm being a good two-shoes as I'm interviewed two people instead of just one. I did rather poorly on the exam, so yes, kiss ass is the name of the game. Speaking of games, I made peace between Israel and Palestine today. I know what you're thinking - how can she solve a conflict that has been a problem since the times of Abraham? You see, what happened was, I'm a kick ass negotiator. Plus, its a computer game for my International Relations class. See, there's also as tag to everything. Next week I get to do a live negotiation of the splitting of territories in Hebron - this is a pipe-dream but that will not stop me! The problem with NaNo, I have four final papers to research and write on top of my word count. Talk about brain dead. I'm going to do my best damnit, but if I am the equivalent of a lobotomy patient by the end of this process, I'll blame someone for it. *shakes finger* Really, really. Found out my aunt, uncle, and cousins are coming out from Ohio for Thanksgiving this year. The whole family together after we all separately lost our minds should be an entertaining experience. The biggest hurdle will be if my step-monster - oops! - step-mother will releases her claws from my brother and let him see everyone. The situation between me and her is starting to deteriorate from our quiet seething at one another. The weird thing about this whole situation is the fact that its almost to the point of cliche. I mean I know tons of people who love their step-parents as well as are wonderful step-parents themselves. If she weren't so fucking nuts I think this would a fine situation. But for the sake of my little bro I'm going to keep my mouth shut...for now. The class schedule for next semester has already come out. I'm hyperventilating already. If I make it through this semester I'll be extremely impressed by my organs. If I don't make it, I'll take them out for a drink and give them a nice pat on the shoulder for a good try. Seriously, for many years I never imagined I'd live this long, given the state of my immune system. I have no idea how they keep up with the insanity. Oh, I also have the best boyfriend in the world. You might not believe me, unless you know him, but he is the awesomest man on the planet. There are few people in this world that I would love. Even fewer still who I trust completely (minus people under the age of twelve, the number fits on one hand). He is one of the those people. I'd gush about him but that would be embarrassing for his sake and mine. Just know that if you can have a best friend and a beloved in one person, you are an extremely lucky person like me. I was stalked by a squirrel today while walking to class. Very long story (not really) so I'll save that for another date. More NaNo tomorrow. Swear. Just need to nap first. |
| My NaNo writing has almost all but dried up. I can't seem to find the time to get the writing in, which as other people have kids and full-time jobs and other huge responsibilities, it seems absolutely ridiculous that I can get this in with my classwork. Unfortunately, it just ain't happening. Between final papers preparing, mid-terms (one tomorrow, damn it, lol), class projects, and interviews I feel like I'm flying by on the edge of my teeth. Why couldn't this happen in December? lol Part of me wants to throw in the towel. I'm at about 5500 words so far, and the goal needs me to be at around 17000 today. That's a lot of makeup and inspiration I need to catch-up and keep up. But another part of me, the more persistent annoying part, wants me to keep going and not give in until November is over. What does it hurt to keep my foot in the game, right? Hopefully, this weekend will give me the time to put in major work. I want this damn thing. I want it bad. I want to say by the end of the month that I am a novelist. That I've completed something of my own thought and will and creation. Even if it drives me insane. |
| You find inspiration wherever you can. And when you have a firm grasp on it, you put it in choke hold to make it stay put. Like a metaphoric teddy bear made of sunshine. Performance wise, I could definitely pick up my game for NaNo. I haven't even touched the 5000 word mark yet, and there's a charity drive depending on this project. I need a freakin' sunshine bear. So, I was strolling through the different blogs of authors I enjoy. One of my favorites is Jenny Crusie and her Argh Ink blog. Funniest snark writer I've ever read. Anyways, she mentioned in her latest post that she's doing NaNo while writing her next novel, and will be unable to blog all the much for the next month. But the thing that got me the most (beside the snippet of her NaNo, which was hilarious) was her reasoning behind what she feels is lackluster writing on her part. "Its okay because its NaNo". For reasons passing understanding that struck a cord with me. I am now using that as my mantra. Fifteen minutes ago I dumped my cup of tea for a high-octane cup of java. Its little after 5:30 in the morning my time and I'm floating on about two hours of sleep. But that's okay because its NaNo. I can have bloodshot eyes with frizzy hair shooting off in all directions while growl at people at the bus station later. Why? Because its NaNo. Whenever I'm grouchy for no explainable reason or feel like throwing all my notes and paper up in the air, screaming "Screw this!" at the top of my lungs - its okay because its NaNo. Another quote of inspiration I've taken as my sword and shield is "More Cowbell". For those who never saw the infamous skit on SNL, Christopher Walken plays a parody of a famous music producer helping Blue Oyster Cult make their hit "(Don't Fear) The Reaper". Will Farrell plays the musician handling the cowbell in the song. The skit revolves around the rest of band finding the loud banging of the cowbell annoying, but Walken keeps insisting that the cowbell needs to be loud and constant, "really explore the space with cowbell". I'm, when I'm losing faith in the NaNo, I say to myself more cowbell. See, I can use this crackpot philosophy because its NaNo. |
| To get some of the lead out for my NaNo writing I've decided to go out of sequence. For me, the beginning is always the hardest part, and this beginning is kicking my ass. The starting scene plays out clearly in my head, but for some reason I can' seem to translate that into words. Part of the fear I think is that you have grab your readers within this first section. If I can't get people interested in this first piece of the story, nobody will want to continue to read. And I want people to continue to read, lol. The other part is telling the story right. The tentative title at the moment is "A Bullet With Butterfly Wings" (I apologize for stealing the title from the Smashing Pumpkins song). The reason why I picked this is that it conveys exactly what I want the readers to understand. This project has a lot of sarcasm, a lot of darkness to it. Even the elements of hope are barb-wired. But the hope in the end is one of redemption. There are many villains, many betrayers, and many sell-outs. Its free-for-all in terms of corruption. Yet there is hope for (almost) everyone. Margot it a tight-lipped character to understand; she doesn't want to reveal to me everything going on in her head. She's been in such an "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" mentality for so long that being literally thrown back into the fray again is quite unnerving. The biggest part about her though is the wrath she holds inside. The one part that keeps getting thrust into my mind's eye is the scene where she almost loses her cool for the last time. She's full of unadulterated wrath, yet she persists that it doesn't exist until its too late to turn back. There are other issues with the story at the moment, but there are plenty more days to worry about that. Suffice to say, there's progress. Just slowly. |
| Its funny the way everything can go downhill. I imagine it can be compared to having the rug pulled out from under you. One minute you're enjoying the day. The next everything is darker somehow, colder. This is my experience of yesterday. The beginning was actually quite nice. I spent time with someone I love, and was able to really write for the first time since NaNo started. It wasn't a whole hell of a lot, but it had teeth to it, something that makes the story more real. I cooked before my class. Enjoyed a meal and prepped for class. Class was intriguing as well - war and conflict. It should have been my first warning. The minute class was over my day went down the toilet. From my perspective, everyone was in a foul mood. There was a sense of foreboding where there was once contentment. Maybe it was me though. Maybe it was something I was giving off that affected others. Maybe I was seeing not there. Walking on eggshells is one of specialties, a trait I picked up when I was kid. I did my best to stay out of people way, trying to bring joy. Maybe a smile. Boy, was I throwing dirt balls. My attempts were less than stellar. And, after being struck out, I did the only thing I could think of to do - I walked. How quickly faith is fleeting. A part of my brain, hell, most of it, knows that this feeling of failure is irrational. I'm not trying to make excuses for it or simply explain it away. I'm just tired. Tired of trying to guess what's on peoples' minds. Tired of knowing that I will never get the full truth from anyone. There are times when you can stand in front of someone, open and honest, giving them everything there is to give, but they can't give the same. What I find hilarious is that the people I trust most in the world don't trust me the same way. Most people who meet me find me cynical, yet, in the end, I'm usually who gets screwed for putting trust in the wrong person. God, it makes me exhausted just thinking about it. This darkness is temporary, but in this moment I can't help but feel so very alone. And that in and of itself is utterly ridiculous. Still, this feeling sits with me in the pit of my stomach, gnawing away at my nerves. I keep wondering what went wrong with the day, what did I miss that changed everything. And maybe, that's entirely the point. |
| The beginning of NaNoWriMo hasn't been the greatest for me. Most of the weekend was spent working on my History classwork. By the time the first day of NaNo had almost over I was deadbeat in the head. I tried though after I had taken a nap. Got over 1600 words in on my novel. Except...it was pure gibberish. My friend Lonewolf  read the beginning and I could practically hear his laughter in the email. I had some work to do this morning, but I checked on my work this afternoon. Only more than half of it is missing! I was so tired last night I didn't save the damn thing properly. Talk about a mess. The problem I'm facing at the moment is editing. I want to start over and give my beginning another shot at being somewhat legible. My internal editor is demanding that I rework all that is needs to be reworked. Plus, its the first days, right? Better to do it now than to rework it later because the thing is crap. One of the most common pieces of advice I've received about NaNo is to constantly keep writing and don't concentrate on specifics. That's exactly what I do ... do. I can only go off the hinge for so long before I have to go back and check. Then I check, and rewrite, and ditch, and start over. Not the way to get the end of this thing. After my class I will be writing again. Four thousands words is what I'm hoping for this evening. That's a bit of a push, but I think I can do it. I have to go out of town this weekend, but I'll have a hotel room to myself that might help me stimulate writing subconscious. So here's to all those writing away. Good luck! |
| The NaNoWriMo moment is fast approaching... Thanks to Brandiwynš¶  and "October Novel Prep Challenge"  I've been plotting out my project for the past month. I'm still fuzzy on some details, but the important thing is that I want to hit the 50,000 words mark. This is my first NaNo; I have a lot riding on this. (Including a side bet with my father and a charity Over the next month I'll be blogging everyday to help me keep track of ideas and frustrations. So this is the upfront warning that this blog will be all NaNo, all the time. There's a novel idea submitting during November that I'm thinking of entering. Its free, the title and 250 words of the novel. I figure, what the hell, right? Shouldn't be too bad. I'm going to keep this short as I have classwork due tomorrow and want to have it done before starting this. Have a lot of notes to take, dinner to make, reviews to do, and so forth. To all NaNo-ers - may the force be with you! Oh, and if anyone wants to know, my handle at the NaNo site is my handle here: LdyPhoenix. |
| There was a sale a few days ago at the grocery on pineapple 2-for-1. Ones in the fridge while I let the other one sit out to ripen. Tonight, feeling the bite of the sweet tooth, I sliced open the pineapple and ate it. It was glorious - juicy, yellow chucks that are heaven to eat. I now have blisters on my lips. There's a point to this besides the pineapple, promise. Truth be told the death of K has had more repercussions than I imagined there would be. Since the news of her passing I've been have vivid nightmares of death and pain. The apartment is in shambles, and my classwork is stacking up. Any motivation to write dies within seconds. And I didn't get out of pajamas today. On a relative scale, minus the nightmares, that's not much too bad. Its just...I can't shake what happened. Its like the freakin' pineapple (hang with me, there's a correlation, I swear.). I didn't see the blisters popping up on my lips coming when I ate the fruit. I didn't see K killing herself, neither did her closest family. Somewhere, along the line, I think someone should have senses something. That doesn't make any sense, but I haven't been making much these past few days. One of the weirdest things is, I find I keep mentioning it to people. Not her suicide, but her death in a general sense. I'm looking for some answers in my randomly asking people. There is a reason WHY she did what she did. In the back of my mind I keep wondering if I just keeping asking, maybe someone will give me an answer finally. I hate to think of her, or anyone, in that much internal, emotional pain. In all my Psych classes, suicide comes up a lot. Suicidal Lethality. The fact that asking someone if they're going to commit suicide it one of the truest ways to help them overcome their faulty thinking. In the end, did anyone think to ask her intentions? Did she think she was all alone in the world? That no one would miss her if she was gone? K seems to be always present in the back of my mind with the question - why? And God knows, that question will never truly be answered. Blistered. |
| I took the mourning sign down off my handle a few minutes ago. There was a silent agreement between my mom and I this morning. We've put aside our mourning for another time. For my mom I believe it is her history with K. Things were estranged between then at the end. I think a small part of her feels guilty, even though its not her fault at all. Another part I think is that she's too angry at hurt K left behind, especially for her godchildren. It'll take some time for that to settle itself. For me, personally, there's too much to do to really stop and mourn K's passing. It sounds petty, and utterly selfish, and I accept that. There is a time to grieve her, but last night and my today, I can't continue and finish what I've already committed. My family celebrates something called Dia de los Muertos - The Day of the Dead. It is actually two days where you remember and celebrate the passing of loved ones. Traditionally, you go to the grave site and decorate the graves in elaborate settings, making tons of food to feast on. Loved ones wait all night in the cemetery for them to return from the dead to eat and drink and remember. We do our own version each year, remembering those we've lost. On November 1st, my mom and I will mourn K. We will remember each person we've lost and celebrate the lives they lead before they passed on. It may not be the best way, but it is our way, and I can live with that. |
“Life lives, life dies. Life laughs, life cries. Life gives up and life tries. But life looks different through everyone's eyes.” It's funny how quickly life can change. In the blink an eye. In a heartbeat. In the ringing of a telephone. We can become so focused on a certain, a single-focus mindset, that when a the wrecking ball comes to knock us down we never seeing coming. My godmother's sister took her own life. The phone call came this evening. My mother was the one to answer the phone. My godsister, J, was supposedly inebriated at the time. I can't really blame her. There's no good way to tell someone this kind of news. At the time my mother came in to tell me what had happened, I had been writing a piece with a deadline. At first I didn't stop writing. It took a minute to for the words to sink in. Afterward a good minute incomprehension turned quickly to shock. What do you say to something like that? I think I uttered something along the lines of "Jesus Christ." Suicide is one of those things that impacts everyone. K played the part of the happy sister, letting everyone see the smile on her face. No one knew she was dying inside. Nobody knew the morbid thoughts running through her head. Slowly, and surely, over the course of a week, she forced herself not eat, starving herself to death. It's hard to mourn her without feeling some type of anger. For me it is hypocrisy, but no less unfelt at her actions. Some many things she left unsaid, undone. Some many things for others that have to pick up the pieces while trying to understand why she did what she did. My godmother has become non-verbal. My godsister is drowning herself in substances. Can you truly mourn with anger? Can you grieve when you can't forgive the person who died quite yet? The tears came as I remembered her. Flashes of her wedding and going out to dinner come and go in my mind. She always seemed to put on this happy face, trying desperately to feel, well, happy. Things afterward that point time though slowly went down hill. It's been years since I've seen her, but I still remember her smile. There's an odd detachment to my sadness, like its something outside myself. I've been crying off and on for the past two hours or so. Every time I think of her, a deep sense of pain swells up inside me. But it seems like the two pieces aren't connected. Maybe its the anger. Maybe its the way she chose to kill herself. I mean, by God, going against the natural instinct eat for days. What could drive someone to do something like that? I'm trying to finish the story I was writing. Somehow, in some weird deluded way, if I finish that damn thing maybe I'll find some answers to the questions left unanswered. Maybe then something will make sense. It's convuluted to be sure, I'm setting myself up for a fall, but I'm going to do it anyway. What else can be done? I honestly want to know. |
| I can't believe they freakin' lost it in the end! 13 freakin' innings! I almost had a heart attack! Son of a Bravo-India-Tango-Charlie-Hotel! ** Image ID #1568730 Unavailable **
Check out these activities: "The Elementalist Contest" "Funk E. Signature Shoppe" "Invalid Item" |
| I'm currently sitting here at my computer waiting for something to happen. I feel like Donald Rumsfield. I don't know when. I don't where. But something is going to happen. Sadly, this is extremely true in my case. Its not like I don't have things to do. I have my NaNoWriMo project to continue to outline. I have to write my first entry for the 14-7-1 Contest before the end of tomorrow. I have a birthday party to finish putting together for tomorrow. I'm waiting for meat to thaw for dinner. Classwork thrown in there somewhere (diagnosis another patient; yippy!). Reviews up the wazoo. Still...I haven't started a damn thing. At first I blamed it on the flu. I am currently going through the trials and tribulations of influenza, and will be receiving my shot tomorrow for another dose of this lovely illness. But, even with the tiredness and the miserableness, this seems a flat excuse. Next, I blamed it on the heat. It went from 73 degrees and raining to freakin' 99 and sunny in a matter of two days! Damn global warming!!! And yet, still doesn't account for my not doing anything. There is no answer. I simply cannot do anything at the moment. Maybe it was the ice cream I had earlier. Or the fact that I'm wearing blue. Or that the Angels are losing to Yankees. Maybe... You go on ahead, I'm just going to sit here, waiting... |
| Here's a funny thing I found while looking at my homepage this evening: This article is about how a justice of the peace denied marrying about couple because they were an interracial couple. Out of all the reactions I experienced while reading this article, the one I didn't expect was somewhat bizarre - it slayed me. Seriously. I laughed for a minute or two. What got me going was a quote from the justice of the peace answering the obvious question: was he racist? The obvious answer came, but it was the way he said it that made me think of part of a comedy skit by D.L. Hughley about how, if you count the amount of people in your house of an opposite color, you have problems. You may think you don't have a racial issue, but determining the amount of, say black friends you have over for a dinner party or something, especially where you feel the need to ask yourself that question, brings up a very obvious personal dilemma. Here is what the justice of the peace was quoted as saying: "I'm not a racist. I just don't believe in mixing the races that way," Bardwell told the Associated Press on Thursday. "I have piles and piles of black friends. They come to my home, I marry them, they use my bathroom. I treat them just like everyone else." Its the bathroom part that kills me. Really? Is that necessary to convince everyone that you're not a racist by the fact that you let certain people use your bathroom? Really, really? The man's reasoning behind not marrying the couple was his belief that children of their union would not be accepted in either racial society (she was White, he was Black). As the product of an interracial couple, I can see where he has concerns. Things haven't always been easy, and I know many people who have parents of different races might feel the same way. But the idea not to marry people because of the children they produce who might experience come acceptance issues from either side of the racial mixture is scary. To me it says (obviously I'm a little too close to the issue to be truly objective) that I and people like me shouldn't exist because we might be ostracized as we grow up. That's ridiculous! That line of reasoning could also be used for economic status, religious beliefs, geographical location, and the list goes on. We, as a human race, are going to mix and mingle when it comes to procreation. It what makes the world interesting and exciting. If we stayed all in our "own" groups of things life would be boring and superficial. There is always a chance for hardship, but that just means working on fixing prejudices, not stopping a union of love or the possibility of creating human life. Well, anyway, just thought I'd share. |
| Sooooooo....mid-terms are lurking around the corner. Its hard to imagine I'm halfway through the semester already. Personally, I have a serious phobia about exams - mid-terms and finals the cream on the cake. It seems to me, no matter how hard you study, no matter how much you cram into your brain, you never can do as good as you imagine you can. My biggest fight against the horrible anxiety is to not think about it until the morning before. It seems strange, but the more time I stress, the more information I forget. There's a perception/memory retrieval thing that doesn't occur properly if I do it the normal way. I'm guessing at this. Who really knows? The motto "Out of Sight, Out of Mind." becomes mine during this process. I focus on completely random things: the way my books are stacked, practically sterilizing my room, cooking random things, etc. Right now I have the perfect thing to focus on: my NaNoWriMo project. An interesting thing happened while I was waiting for my ride after my class this evening - more of my story came to me. I love it when the flow of information floods my brain like a dam breaking. I get to learn more about my protagonist, Margot. She's headstrong and contemplative girl who usually acts individualistically. Now she's being thrust into a situation that demands she think collectively, saving people who haven't always had her best interests at heart. The more I analyze the notes and sketches, the more I see bits and pieces of my life between the lines. Some writers admit to this bias, others deny it. The fact of the matter is, unless you really know me, there is no way you can see what is real and what is fiction. Mostly, I see this rendering as a kind of cathartic release of emotions. Much cheaper than a shrink. (I should know, I'm going to become one.  )Whether I sink or fail will be interesting enough. I feel moderately prepared for my Cross-Cultural Psych exam and completely lost when it comes to International Relations. Surprisingly I'm not all that worried about it. Either way it'll all be over by Thursday at noon. The good times just keep on coming. |
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lol Catch ya later friend.
