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 |  My life is a roller coaster ride, but there's beauty in the madness. |
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Ink in Faded Hues My aspirations, triumphs, and failures. Life is a beautiful mess! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ~All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.~ T.E. Lawrence ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This is me, for those of you who wondered! 
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Ahh I just LOVE the end of the month. I'm always sooo busy and end up scrabling around like a one-legged chicken with its head cut off. There's something exhilerating about being so busy that you don't have time to think. That is until you go cross-eyed and your head starts to hurt.  If you haven't yet, go visit my port and check out A MidSummer Night's Scream. It opens tomorrow. This little doozy is my yearly horror contest and the prizes are as always kick ass.  I've never been one to do things in half-measure. It's always all or nothing with me.With everything falling into place, I'm ready to start writing. I have a twisted tale brewing in my head. Not sure what is wrong with me, but my obsessions probably say a lot about me. Let's see...Chef Ramsey makes me giddy as a giggling school girl and hot under the collar. Then we have BumbleBee. Yes, I said Bumble Bee. Not sure what it is about him, but if it is possible to be in love with a robot, I am.  I want a yellow Camero so bad now, equipped with the Bee-otch airfreshener. I've always loved bumble bees, like to the point where I would freak my mom out and pet them as a child. I cry if I see an injured one and will carry it around with me. But anyway...robot with bee like thingies....yeah. Oh and then the kicker...the one that really makes me know I am not right...Jason Voorhees.  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Since I was a kid, I loved that character. Something about large, strapping men in masks that don't talk...but beyond that, I see the phsychology behind the character. I really loved the remake for that reason, you see it more and get a deeper understanding of him. The poor guy just needs someone to love him. I voulnteer. What's all this have to do with writing? Easy. I'm writing a story for
The prompt this month is fan-fiction. I'll leave it up to you to guess which I will be writing about. On an end note, I found the lyrics to this song to be most inspiring today. The video is pretty coll too once you hit the 2 minute mark. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WusW7JfPCis Best wishes and happy writing!  |
| It's not nearly as appealing as it may sound. I'm going through a bit of an identity crisis as of late and am not sure what to do. I've been eyeballing that "change username" option with increasing voracity. Not my pen name, mind you. Just the user name. I'm not even sure why. It could be that pesky gemini sneaking up in me, urging that it is time for a change. I think the bigger part of it is, with everything I've gone through in the past year, I'm not feeling much like a princess anymore. If anything, it's more like the pauper, or perhaps even the pea. Things have changed drastically in my house. The purse strings haven't just tightened. They've turned into a death noose. Stress, this strangling sense of suffocation, and incessant worry are definitely taking their toll. Writing is almost impossible, despite the fact that these should be the times where it offers a welcome escape. My mind is a constant whirlwind and I find myself listening to a different muse...a very warped and depraved soul. *le tortured sigh* So, I've been eying that user name option. It seems like such a pain, as the e-mail transfer does not work at the moment. Any links to pradaprincess would no longer work, and would need to be changed. Yet, I am tired of staring at a name that no longer fits. What is a girl to do? Is an authorized secondary account the way to go? Or would you take the plunge and go all out? Or perhaps I'm just worrying needlessly about piddy things again, as I'm often wont to do. Bah. |
| Today has just been a staggering day. First Farrah, and now Michael Jackson. It sounds so strange to even say that. I cannot believe he is dead. With Farrah, there was some warning, as she was very sick with cancer for a long time. I have been bracing myself for Patrick Swayze...but Michael Jackson? The man, despite everything, was an icon. A legend. I grew up listening to him, watching his ground-breaking videos... *shakes my head* Such a tragic loss and so unexpectedly soon. My heart goes out to both families as they deal with their loss. R.I.P. Ms. Fawcett and Mr. Jackson. You will both be missed. |
| To all the dads! Especially my own. |
| Trapped, rendered motionless, and drained of all life: that is what my writing has become. I've hit the dreaded wall and, I know if I don't push through this, I will lose yet another novel to the mid-book blues. The curse of the seven has struck again. I'm not sure what it is, but it hits without fail. Try as I might, I cannot shake the scene in my head. No matter how many times I write it, it refuses to come out right. I can't move on, and I can't get past it. I've run out of options here. You can only reword things so many ways. I'm sure I am not the only one who has faced this problem, so I pose a question here. What do you do when you find yourself hopelessly stuck? Do you push through, settling for what comes? Do you scrap the scene and come up with something different than what you envisioned? Do you cry, scream, and beg the writing gods not to forsake you? Bah. |
| Is it possible to abandon ourselves? At what point does a writer become their own worst enemy? The ability to string words together is a gift. It's a talent we hone over the years, letter by letter, piece by piece. It's also a curse. Writers accomplish by doing. Talking about writing doesn't make us what we are, nor does it build the foundation on which we perch. So when the words fail to come, or we build them, only to step back and see a sloppy, crumbling structure, we start to lose hope, and one thing vital to our sucess...confidence. There is an age old saying: Writers write. When we aren't writing, or can't, what does that make us? Despondant, grouchy, and bitter, among other things. None of these things help. They hinder the process and one's ability to see through the mire. There is always a light shining at the end of the tunnel, no matter how dim. It is up to us to dig deep and find the strength to carry on. Sometimes that walk around the neighborhood, or a step away does not help. Our focus, desire, and drive are ours alone and our own burden to carry. Sometimes the only thing that will work is pushing through the pain and working through a long series of trial by fire. It isn't up to others to hold our hand or show us the way out of the mess we have built around us. If we can no longer help ourselves and remember what it is we started writing for in the first place, then I would have to say the answer is yes. It is possible to abandon ourself...and it is a long, difficult journey finding your way back home. |
| Bah. I've had a nasty stomach flu ALL weekend. I'm sorry its taken so long to respond to e-mails and for not being around much. I truly am. I got some anti-nausea pills that knock me out for a minimum of four hours straight. As for now, the pepto is calling again, and so is bed. Hope you are all doing well and that I can return full-swing again soon! Best wishes and happy writing |
| It must be the weather. When the sky is overcast and heavy with rain refusing to fall, there is something depressing that lingers in the air. I wish it would rain. I could use a good storm, charged with violent bolts of electricity, raging winds, and great booms of thunder that shake the soul. Writing has been a battle, though I manage to somehow plod ahead and get my word count in every day. Last week I think I hit a personal record bringing in over 6,000. Something tells me there are many people that manage that in a day though.  I don't know what it is but I feel uncharacteristically lazy....complacent and we all know that is a slump that kills. All I want to do is sleep and lose myself in the blissful promise of dreams. |
I was having a fairly decent day. That is until I went to check on the hitchhiking anole and give him some fresh water. Poor little guy. Despite our best efforts, he did not make it. I didn't expect he would, seeing as he was coated in grease, diesel fuel, and beezus knows what else when J found him. He fought a good fight, but it was still depressing to walk into the kitchen and see him withered up and lifeless. I grew kind of attached to him in his three weeks here.  Bah, I really hate Mondays. |
| I can hear myself think. That alone is a scary thought! The cats are all sleeping, and even the iguanas and hitchhiking anole are at rest. Life is good. Yesterday I had to come to terms with a depressing fact. I started Compassion in late January. I stopped in mid February, at which time I took a four month vacation from writing, except for official contests here on WDC. Yesterday when going over my word count and stats since resuming, I stumbled across what I can only call a self-inflicted slap in the face. In the twenty days total that I plugged away, I got roughly 16,000 words. After averaging it all out, that means the book could have been finished in 3.5 months. Bottom line, I could have finished it by now.  This made me realize I am a slacker of the worst breed. Correction . . . was. By switching from a weekly goal to a low, but attainable, daily goal, I took a lot of pressure off myself. In fact, I have met my minimum 400 words a day with ease and went far over it each time. That makes it feel like an accomplishment, not a failure. Yesterday, I managed 2000. In four days, I wrote just under 4000. My former weekly goal. But, this came to me much easier. By taking a step back and assessing our work and habits, we can sometimes see where our struggles lie. Most of us write because we enjoy it. If the joy starts to flee, search for the reasons why. If it is beacause you feel you are falling behind or battle to get that count in every day, relax! Setting our goals a little lower can ease the pressure and restore a sense of fun and pride. Who knows, you may just find yourself reaching that old, higher goal with ease once the pressure is off! Best wishes and happy writing! |
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