[insert bloodcurling scream of frustration here]
I am absolutely without initiative. I am so without initiative, I've been staring at this computer screen for hours with no accomplishments whatsoever. I am so without initiative, I keep checking my friends page just to see if there's something else I can read, or, better yet, if there's a link I can click to explore another website that I don't care about in the least. I am so without initiative that I'm playing cruddy games on facebook. I am so without initiative, I haven't even opened Word in order to type my entry so as to keep it from randomly getting deleted from Livejournal. I am so without initiative, I began to type an entry last night (without Word) and lost interest, so I closed the window out knowing full well that my entry wouldn't save. I am so without initiative, I'm still in my pajamas and hate it. I am so without initiative, I couldn't even finish this sentence without checking facebook. For the record, checking your facebook home page only to see that it is exactly the same as how it was last time you looked inspires one of the most pitiful feelings in the world.
Right. If you've been paying attention at all to the above paragraph, you will know full well that nothing new or noteworthy has happened to me in the past week. The most exciting thing to occur in the past seven days is going for a walk in the park with my mom. Or, maybe it was watching five hours of Doctor Who during the marathon yesterday and getting irrationally annoyed at how the channel cut John Simm's dance to "I Can't Decide" to save time in "Last of the Timelords". ONLY FOUR MORE MONTHS.
I wish I was better at writing in stream of consciousness. I think I'm quite good at it when I'm, you know, thinking, which makes sense, but typing it is another thing. I'm sure everyone knows the peculiar feeling of sitting down at a computer to type and then having one's mind go completely blank. Although the phrase "go blank" is a bit misleading. It's less like going blank than it is having a large invisible vaccuum attach itself to one's ear and suck all of the thoughts out one by one. You sit down with about twenty different threads of ideas running about (excuse the second person, I'm just typing to type right now) and flying kites and playing parcheezi and the like, and then WHOOMP one gets sucked up, and you sit for a couple seconds, thinking, "what was it that I was just about to type?" but are wholly unconcerned, because you just continue on towards the next one, and you type the first letter, which is a "w", but then ZVOORMP it goes as well. Now you're kind of frustrated, and this time not even the first word comes to your mind before AAAZLVMORMMASDEGASORP this thought gets sucked into the vaccuum cleaner that is writer's block.
I forgot what I was trying to get at with that metaphor. It's sort of ironic, but much less so than it is ridiculously irritating.
Warped Tour on Friday. I probably should be excited, but I'm more anxious. Since nobody but Luke seemed interested in my offer of a FREE FUCKING TICKET to WT, I'm going with somebody whom I've only known for a couple weeks and has never been to the concert, either. In afterthought, I don't even know if he can go, because concrete plans haven't even been made yet. The plan-making part of this whole endeavour is made even harder, as I have to (or, at least, I feel inclined to) choose my words carefully to make it not seem like I'm trying to take him on a date. For the three very valid reasons that 1) it ISN'T a date, 2) I don't like him that way anyway, and 3) he has a girlfriend. I say I feel inclined to do all this because it may very well only be my paranoid thoughts making me think that we were sending each other mixed messages during the Australia trip. Also going with us will be my brother and his youth group friends, who I don't know but am assuming are just as awful and stupid and immature as the youth group kids from our church that I've only caught a glimpse of on previous occasions. I can't say I'm too pleased with this arrangement, but I'd do anything to see Streetlight live.
I've never even been to a concert before. I'm more than a little scared of the types of people who frequent these types of events, and of how mind-bogglingly crowded it's going to be, and of how mind-blisteringly loud it's going to be.
Here's the pause where I try to recollect anything else I might be able to type here, because certain people want me to write a long entry. They said a "long" entry, but they never specified that it had to be well-written or interesting. So. I've been watching Frezned (if you haven't seen these videos, just search "Frezned" on youtube and start watching the videos on his channel) lately and must say I'm impressed. I've been told about his videos on several occasions dating years back by Whovian42, but never took the time--or initiative--to go ahead and look. It's sort of a reversal of how Whovian42 herself heard me ranting and raving about Doctor Who all the time, but never thought to check it out. Anyway, these videos are incredible, plus, they give me a regular dose of the Australian accent, which I'm sure I would have been missing horribly if it were not for Frezned.
Hehe. "G'day, gangstas!" I kind of want to phone Brad up.
I want to explain the above paragraph fragment, but it'd take away the potency of that single line. I like how it looks, by itself, up there. So I think I'll explain it in this paragraph, although "explain" is too strong a word. Brad was our delegation manager, a fancy term for Australian dude who led us around during the whole trip and did everything with us. He taught our group some slang, and then we gave some valuable tidbits of slang from our neck of the woods, although, to be honest, I'd never heard of most of it. Anyway, the phrase "g'day gangstas" came to represent a combination of both worlds. End of story.
I finished reading "Something Wicked This Way Comes" the other day. I don't consider it as good as Bradbury's other works, but it was certainly entertaining as a standalone novel. Carnivals are always creepy, and this did nothing but help the desolate feel of the story. Ironically, it had a surprisingly happy ending, one that I'm kind of disappointed with. I like sad endings.
I made a decision regarding the story that I've been writing, on and off, for more than two years now. There's one scene where my main character (I'm still debating about her name; let's call her Eve for now) sits and listens to my other main character (he goes by the name of Harper) tell a little story about how he came to be where he is, at this point of the story. Now, it's all dialogue here, but I was thinking that maybe I'd beat my ongoing writer's block by writing this scene out as it happened, as a kind of short story. I already have a crystal clear view of how it happens; maybe if I write it out I'd get excited about the entire story again? And then, I could get some serious renovations done as well. Since the time I began writing it, I've fallen rather strongly out of love with the idea of first person stories. It may or may not have something to do with a certain vampire series, but the point is, I would consider it a huge accomplishment if I could somehow translate the story into third person, instead of keeping it in the rather voicey first.
Funny how I just thought of several other topics to write about. Maybe it was all that talk about story renovations. I could complain about having another semester of Spanish 2 to complete before school starts; or write about sorting through my Australia photos and trying to talk my parents out of printing them all out and spending way too much money doing so; or squee about Torchwood: Children of Earth; or regret the fact that I never wrote journal entries (real journal, not Livejournal) for the last three days I spent in Australia and now I'm slowly forgetting what happened. So you see, I do have things to write, things to do. I just haven't any initiative with which to do them.
Right. If you've been paying attention at all to the above paragraph, you will know full well that nothing new or noteworthy has happened to me in the past week. The most exciting thing to occur in the past seven days is going for a walk in the park with my mom. Or, maybe it was watching five hours of Doctor Who during the marathon yesterday and getting irrationally annoyed at how the channel cut John Simm's dance to "I Can't Decide" to save time in "Last of the Timelords". ONLY FOUR MORE MONTHS.
I wish I was better at writing in stream of consciousness. I think I'm quite good at it when I'm, you know, thinking, which makes sense, but typing it is another thing. I'm sure everyone knows the peculiar feeling of sitting down at a computer to type and then having one's mind go completely blank. Although the phrase "go blank" is a bit misleading. It's less like going blank than it is having a large invisible vaccuum attach itself to one's ear and suck all of the thoughts out one by one. You sit down with about twenty different threads of ideas running about (excuse the second person, I'm just typing to type right now) and flying kites and playing parcheezi and the like, and then WHOOMP one gets sucked up, and you sit for a couple seconds, thinking, "what was it that I was just about to type?" but are wholly unconcerned, because you just continue on towards the next one, and you type the first letter, which is a "w", but then ZVOORMP it goes as well. Now you're kind of frustrated, and this time not even the first word comes to your mind before AAAZLVMORMMASDEGASORP this thought gets sucked into the vaccuum cleaner that is writer's block.
I forgot what I was trying to get at with that metaphor. It's sort of ironic, but much less so than it is ridiculously irritating.
Warped Tour on Friday. I probably should be excited, but I'm more anxious. Since nobody but Luke seemed interested in my offer of a FREE FUCKING TICKET to WT, I'm going with somebody whom I've only known for a couple weeks and has never been to the concert, either. In afterthought, I don't even know if he can go, because concrete plans haven't even been made yet. The plan-making part of this whole endeavour is made even harder, as I have to (or, at least, I feel inclined to) choose my words carefully to make it not seem like I'm trying to take him on a date. For the three very valid reasons that 1) it ISN'T a date, 2) I don't like him that way anyway, and 3) he has a girlfriend. I say I feel inclined to do all this because it may very well only be my paranoid thoughts making me think that we were sending each other mixed messages during the Australia trip. Also going with us will be my brother and his youth group friends, who I don't know but am assuming are just as awful and stupid and immature as the youth group kids from our church that I've only caught a glimpse of on previous occasions. I can't say I'm too pleased with this arrangement, but I'd do anything to see Streetlight live.
I've never even been to a concert before. I'm more than a little scared of the types of people who frequent these types of events, and of how mind-bogglingly crowded it's going to be, and of how mind-blisteringly loud it's going to be.
Here's the pause where I try to recollect anything else I might be able to type here, because certain people want me to write a long entry. They said a "long" entry, but they never specified that it had to be well-written or interesting. So. I've been watching Frezned (if you haven't seen these videos, just search "Frezned" on youtube and start watching the videos on his channel) lately and must say I'm impressed. I've been told about his videos on several occasions dating years back by Whovian42, but never took the time--or initiative--to go ahead and look. It's sort of a reversal of how Whovian42 herself heard me ranting and raving about Doctor Who all the time, but never thought to check it out. Anyway, these videos are incredible, plus, they give me a regular dose of the Australian accent, which I'm sure I would have been missing horribly if it were not for Frezned.
Hehe. "G'day, gangstas!" I kind of want to phone Brad up.
I want to explain the above paragraph fragment, but it'd take away the potency of that single line. I like how it looks, by itself, up there. So I think I'll explain it in this paragraph, although "explain" is too strong a word. Brad was our delegation manager, a fancy term for Australian dude who led us around during the whole trip and did everything with us. He taught our group some slang, and then we gave some valuable tidbits of slang from our neck of the woods, although, to be honest, I'd never heard of most of it. Anyway, the phrase "g'day gangstas" came to represent a combination of both worlds. End of story.
I finished reading "Something Wicked This Way Comes" the other day. I don't consider it as good as Bradbury's other works, but it was certainly entertaining as a standalone novel. Carnivals are always creepy, and this did nothing but help the desolate feel of the story. Ironically, it had a surprisingly happy ending, one that I'm kind of disappointed with. I like sad endings.
I made a decision regarding the story that I've been writing, on and off, for more than two years now. There's one scene where my main character (I'm still debating about her name; let's call her Eve for now) sits and listens to my other main character (he goes by the name of Harper) tell a little story about how he came to be where he is, at this point of the story. Now, it's all dialogue here, but I was thinking that maybe I'd beat my ongoing writer's block by writing this scene out as it happened, as a kind of short story. I already have a crystal clear view of how it happens; maybe if I write it out I'd get excited about the entire story again? And then, I could get some serious renovations done as well. Since the time I began writing it, I've fallen rather strongly out of love with the idea of first person stories. It may or may not have something to do with a certain vampire series, but the point is, I would consider it a huge accomplishment if I could somehow translate the story into third person, instead of keeping it in the rather voicey first.
Funny how I just thought of several other topics to write about. Maybe it was all that talk about story renovations. I could complain about having another semester of Spanish 2 to complete before school starts; or write about sorting through my Australia photos and trying to talk my parents out of printing them all out and spending way too much money doing so; or squee about Torchwood: Children of Earth; or regret the fact that I never wrote journal entries (real journal, not Livejournal) for the last three days I spent in Australia and now I'm slowly forgetting what happened. So you see, I do have things to write, things to do. I just haven't any initiative with which to do them.