just don't lie to me
I need to plan for my novel again, because I'm a little behind. I didn't do any writing yesterday -- instead I took a nap, did some work for my mom, and finished Last Sacrifice. Then I stayed up until two in the morning playing Mass Effect 2 and becoming sorely disappointed that I couldn't stop Jack and Miranda's argument from surfacing again. Ugh. There goes Jack's loyalty.
Besides writing and procrastinating, swimming has went swimmingly. Yeah, I'm tired enough to use a lame pun (if that's even a pun, ha). I'm going to write some vague things because I'm not in the mood to explain anything. I always say that I expect the worst, but I don't. I know that I say things that make it seem like I'm apathetic and unaffected by everything, but I'm not. And I always hold this inch of hope in my heart that things will go the way I want them to -- and I get to the point where I believe that things will work out. I'm vocally a pessimist but at heart an idealist, a romantic.
It sucks. Because I want everything to work out perfectly. I want all the puzzle pieces of my life to fit together. But some of them aren't meant to be in my finished work. They don't fit with anything else. I need to realize that, get the hell over it, and move on. Easier said than done, I'm sure -- as everything seems to be these days. Easier to say that I'll get a job than to get one. Easier to say that my tan will even out than to spend three hours baking under the hot sun, slathered in SPF 30 sunscreen, while fretting about skin cancer and reading a sappy romance novel (like I did this morning, except for only half that time).
I just want everything to... I want everything to go the way that I want it to, which is no epiphany. Isn't that what everyone wants? But it's so hard for me to let go of things that I set my mind on. Grades, material things, boys... I get swamped by the emotion I have for everything. I realize that all three of the aforementioned things hardly feel the same for me. Certainly not grades or material things because they're inanimate objects. As for boys -- I doubt they pay attention to me the way I pay attention to them. I focus in on the minute details of them and then get overwhelmed by the bigger picture. And then they invade my thoughts and make doing anything but thinking about them seem out of the question. Even with my experience with boys, I don't know how to handle them. Hopefully that's something I can figure out, even though it's not like a math problem where there's an equation and a solution. There's no logic to them.
No point in moping, though. If I want things to go my way I have to set out and be the change, not wait around until things sort themselves out.
So. Novel. Chapter Four I believe. Vyra and Shay will disembark from the space shuttle and arrive in... Liborcur (place name generators ftw, honestly). Liborcur isn't the wealthiest city... by far. It's kind of rough. The technology is all there, sure. Like the Space Station funded a bunch of improvements but the government hasn't "gotten around" to fixing up the city. The remaining team is told to wait in one of the debriefing rooms to receive further order from Les about their life back on Earth.
The color is what captures Shay. The gray, drab color of Earth. The gray sky. The gray buildings. The gray clothing. It's like a fucking black and white movie. He considers this while he and Vyra wait for Les, and then one of Les's new assistants walks in -- a fragile, pale looking boy of about sixteen. He mentions that Les is not able to give the team the paycheck due to the harsh security on the mission and the fatalities, and also the lack of discovery made ("Lies," Vyra seethes). He may be able to get them some compensation for their years, but it will be weeks -- if not months -- before he can file a complaint with the government due to his current "stressful" situation.
No one challenges the boy -- "don't hurt the messenger!" -- and Shay stares at the cup of coffee in front of him like it holds all the answers in the world. He feels his fists clench and his teeth grind together, but he refuses to make any angry movements. The room clears out quickly, people scurrying to find their families. Shay realizes that the few will be pissed about the paycheck, but they'd rather not have money and be alive than be roasted at the stake at Plethora.
"You should get back to Glyn," Vyra suggests, patting Shay's shoulder as she stands up to leave.
Glyn. His girlfriend. He briefly wonders if his card to the apartment even works anymore. And he wonders what Glyn looks like and if she's fared better than he has. The lack of paycheck pisses him off because his salary was the only thing keeping them in that apartment. Glyn claimed she would find work while he was gone, and Shay feels a little guilty because he never sent her any letters or looked at the dozens she had sent to him. He wanted to, but something would always happen and prevent him from spending any time over trivialities.
He walks through the streets of Liborcur, little hovercrafts zooming by. The gray sky offers no comfort to a disparaged space navigator. He passes by an old shop with dirty windows and a woman scurries out and tugs on his sleeve. He's confused, but she draws him into her little shop.
"You came from Plethora," she said, her brown eyes wide. "I can smell it on you."
"What are you, some sort of dog?" he asks, not in the mood for conversation. And a quick glance around shows the place to be some sort of used book store with a few oddities, like a tarot card corner, which Shay believes to have not been popular in years. Decades even. And then the brown eyed woman starts going off about her philosophy major and how the world is only getting worse, look at what they've done to a strapping young man -- look at his posture! The slump of his shoulders! This is society's work, and there is no place worse than here...
Shay's in no mood to be talked at or indirectly criticized. He stomps out of the store, but the woman calls to him, "You'll come back. They always do." Ends up the woman is named Persephone. Woo!
He reaches his old apartment complex, surprised by how nothing had changed. He took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. He walked down the hallway that creaked with his every step. He slides his key into the lock. The lock flashes green, and he quietly opens the door.
"I wondered when you'd come back," he hears.
END OF CHAPTER.
Yeah. Should work. So tired. Ugh. Might take a nap before working on this. Actually, I probably will. And then I've got to type out like six thousand words, woo!
Besides writing and procrastinating, swimming has went swimmingly. Yeah, I'm tired enough to use a lame pun (if that's even a pun, ha). I'm going to write some vague things because I'm not in the mood to explain anything. I always say that I expect the worst, but I don't. I know that I say things that make it seem like I'm apathetic and unaffected by everything, but I'm not. And I always hold this inch of hope in my heart that things will go the way I want them to -- and I get to the point where I believe that things will work out. I'm vocally a pessimist but at heart an idealist, a romantic.
It sucks. Because I want everything to work out perfectly. I want all the puzzle pieces of my life to fit together. But some of them aren't meant to be in my finished work. They don't fit with anything else. I need to realize that, get the hell over it, and move on. Easier said than done, I'm sure -- as everything seems to be these days. Easier to say that I'll get a job than to get one. Easier to say that my tan will even out than to spend three hours baking under the hot sun, slathered in SPF 30 sunscreen, while fretting about skin cancer and reading a sappy romance novel (like I did this morning, except for only half that time).
I just want everything to... I want everything to go the way that I want it to, which is no epiphany. Isn't that what everyone wants? But it's so hard for me to let go of things that I set my mind on. Grades, material things, boys... I get swamped by the emotion I have for everything. I realize that all three of the aforementioned things hardly feel the same for me. Certainly not grades or material things because they're inanimate objects. As for boys -- I doubt they pay attention to me the way I pay attention to them. I focus in on the minute details of them and then get overwhelmed by the bigger picture. And then they invade my thoughts and make doing anything but thinking about them seem out of the question. Even with my experience with boys, I don't know how to handle them. Hopefully that's something I can figure out, even though it's not like a math problem where there's an equation and a solution. There's no logic to them.
No point in moping, though. If I want things to go my way I have to set out and be the change, not wait around until things sort themselves out.
So. Novel. Chapter Four I believe. Vyra and Shay will disembark from the space shuttle and arrive in... Liborcur (place name generators ftw, honestly). Liborcur isn't the wealthiest city... by far. It's kind of rough. The technology is all there, sure. Like the Space Station funded a bunch of improvements but the government hasn't "gotten around" to fixing up the city. The remaining team is told to wait in one of the debriefing rooms to receive further order from Les about their life back on Earth.
The color is what captures Shay. The gray, drab color of Earth. The gray sky. The gray buildings. The gray clothing. It's like a fucking black and white movie. He considers this while he and Vyra wait for Les, and then one of Les's new assistants walks in -- a fragile, pale looking boy of about sixteen. He mentions that Les is not able to give the team the paycheck due to the harsh security on the mission and the fatalities, and also the lack of discovery made ("Lies," Vyra seethes). He may be able to get them some compensation for their years, but it will be weeks -- if not months -- before he can file a complaint with the government due to his current "stressful" situation.
No one challenges the boy -- "don't hurt the messenger!" -- and Shay stares at the cup of coffee in front of him like it holds all the answers in the world. He feels his fists clench and his teeth grind together, but he refuses to make any angry movements. The room clears out quickly, people scurrying to find their families. Shay realizes that the few will be pissed about the paycheck, but they'd rather not have money and be alive than be roasted at the stake at Plethora.
"You should get back to Glyn," Vyra suggests, patting Shay's shoulder as she stands up to leave.
Glyn. His girlfriend. He briefly wonders if his card to the apartment even works anymore. And he wonders what Glyn looks like and if she's fared better than he has. The lack of paycheck pisses him off because his salary was the only thing keeping them in that apartment. Glyn claimed she would find work while he was gone, and Shay feels a little guilty because he never sent her any letters or looked at the dozens she had sent to him. He wanted to, but something would always happen and prevent him from spending any time over trivialities.
He walks through the streets of Liborcur, little hovercrafts zooming by. The gray sky offers no comfort to a disparaged space navigator. He passes by an old shop with dirty windows and a woman scurries out and tugs on his sleeve. He's confused, but she draws him into her little shop.
"You came from Plethora," she said, her brown eyes wide. "I can smell it on you."
"What are you, some sort of dog?" he asks, not in the mood for conversation. And a quick glance around shows the place to be some sort of used book store with a few oddities, like a tarot card corner, which Shay believes to have not been popular in years. Decades even. And then the brown eyed woman starts going off about her philosophy major and how the world is only getting worse, look at what they've done to a strapping young man -- look at his posture! The slump of his shoulders! This is society's work, and there is no place worse than here...
Shay's in no mood to be talked at or indirectly criticized. He stomps out of the store, but the woman calls to him, "You'll come back. They always do." Ends up the woman is named Persephone. Woo!
He reaches his old apartment complex, surprised by how nothing had changed. He took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. He walked down the hallway that creaked with his every step. He slides his key into the lock. The lock flashes green, and he quietly opens the door.
"I wondered when you'd come back," he hears.
END OF CHAPTER.
Yeah. Should work. So tired. Ugh. Might take a nap before working on this. Actually, I probably will. And then I've got to type out like six thousand words, woo!