(no subject)
The one time I actually CAN go to bed early and have the desire to, I can't sleep and end up laying there, tossing around for two hours. This is a bitch.
I had to write a ten minute play for my Play Development Workshop class, since we're holding a ten minute play festival (using the prompt "the most important thing in the world") and Steve wanted us to "understand the process" or something. I don't really consider myself a playwright, so it was an interesting exercise. I do prose, usually, where you can have narrative and a little more psychological insight whereas in a play it's all action and it all has to be in the text. Anything else the director's making up. Anyway, Chris wrote this great dark comedy about hope, and Aaron wrote these hilarious little vignettes about the invention of the wheel, and I wrote a piece about a guy who accidentally killed and then purposefully dismembered a young girl and he wants the mother's forgiveness before he gets strapped to a table. I am a cheery little fuck.
Also, I am very bad with money and nobody should ever let me have any. And you should never go grocery shopping when you haven't eaten anything all day. These two statements are related.
My last Mentalist recap was sixteenth in the top thirty hits for thetwocents.com last week! Woo! This has never happened for me before, so this is a good thing.
Steve wants to start holding graduate meetings on Tuesday mornings at NINE AM. Which would be all very well and good, I'm sure, except when you can't fall asleep until 4:30 and have to leave the apartment at 8:30 to get there on time, the morning comes very early.
Today I was very sleepy because that's what happened to me last night. I was sleepy which is different from just tired.
I started reading the next Bernard Cornwell book I have, which is The Archer's Tale, the first of a trilogy. I get through the first twenty pages, coastal English village, our hero is tall and strong, your basic Cornwell fare. We also get to hear a lot about the priest. Also pretty typical for Cornwell, as his priests tend to come in two flavors: one, holier-than-thou, vice ridden, and disgustingly corrupt, or two, not as pious and devoted as you might expect but okay guys. This one is the latter. Okay. Well we have French raiders getting all up in their grill now and kill the priest and the rest of the village as well (except for our hero of course). Okay, fine.
Hero and the priest get this wonderful scene before he expires and then we find out the hero is the priest's son, and this is treated as though we readers should have known this all along. And maybe I should have been genre-savvy enough to know, since in that moment we also hear that hero's mother is the priest's housekeeper. Okay then. But looking back though the first pages, it is pretty much implied that the priest and hero's father are two different people. I get the whole priests having kids thing, I do. But if Cornwell was going for a Big Reveal, I can only say that he failed fantastically and his editor should have beat him with a switch until he fixed it. Sometimes I think best-selling authors start getting held to a lower standard than lower-earning authors do and getting passes because they make the company money (Jesus, look at SMeyer), but I digress. I was just disappointed is all.
I had to write a ten minute play for my Play Development Workshop class, since we're holding a ten minute play festival (using the prompt "the most important thing in the world") and Steve wanted us to "understand the process" or something. I don't really consider myself a playwright, so it was an interesting exercise. I do prose, usually, where you can have narrative and a little more psychological insight whereas in a play it's all action and it all has to be in the text. Anything else the director's making up. Anyway, Chris wrote this great dark comedy about hope, and Aaron wrote these hilarious little vignettes about the invention of the wheel, and I wrote a piece about a guy who accidentally killed and then purposefully dismembered a young girl and he wants the mother's forgiveness before he gets strapped to a table. I am a cheery little fuck.
Also, I am very bad with money and nobody should ever let me have any. And you should never go grocery shopping when you haven't eaten anything all day. These two statements are related.
My last Mentalist recap was sixteenth in the top thirty hits for thetwocents.com last week! Woo! This has never happened for me before, so this is a good thing.
Steve wants to start holding graduate meetings on Tuesday mornings at NINE AM. Which would be all very well and good, I'm sure, except when you can't fall asleep until 4:30 and have to leave the apartment at 8:30 to get there on time, the morning comes very early.
Today I was very sleepy because that's what happened to me last night. I was sleepy which is different from just tired.
I started reading the next Bernard Cornwell book I have, which is The Archer's Tale, the first of a trilogy. I get through the first twenty pages, coastal English village, our hero is tall and strong, your basic Cornwell fare. We also get to hear a lot about the priest. Also pretty typical for Cornwell, as his priests tend to come in two flavors: one, holier-than-thou, vice ridden, and disgustingly corrupt, or two, not as pious and devoted as you might expect but okay guys. This one is the latter. Okay. Well we have French raiders getting all up in their grill now and kill the priest and the rest of the village as well (except for our hero of course). Okay, fine.
Hero and the priest get this wonderful scene before he expires and then we find out the hero is the priest's son, and this is treated as though we readers should have known this all along. And maybe I should have been genre-savvy enough to know, since in that moment we also hear that hero's mother is the priest's housekeeper. Okay then. But looking back though the first pages, it is pretty much implied that the priest and hero's father are two different people. I get the whole priests having kids thing, I do. But if Cornwell was going for a Big Reveal, I can only say that he failed fantastically and his editor should have beat him with a switch until he fixed it. Sometimes I think best-selling authors start getting held to a lower standard than lower-earning authors do and getting passes because they make the company money (Jesus, look at SMeyer), but I digress. I was just disappointed is all.