I'm actually using my brain and it's the morning. Wow.
Well, I haven't posted for a couple of days, yet it feels so much longer. I am likely to watching AtS tonight, not just because of spoilers, but because I genuinely want to know what the hell's going on. And mmmm...Angelus. Evil bastard.
I'm working on Wesley/Lilah story, which dialogue-wise seems to flow nicely, but it seems to be missing that little extra something that's just necessary to the story. I'm spoiled as all hell and I know what comes next, but dammit, I need some denial for my favorite dark 'ship.
“You realize that this is normally time for sleeping?” She’s groggy and annoyed, and she doesn’t even have to look at the caller ID to see who would be calling at three in the morning.
“Yes. And you’re awake.”
She hesitates before answering him. “Thinking about my options.”
“Ever the lawyer, even without a job.”
“Insults result in hang ups and no phone sex.”
“I wasn’t calling you for that.” His voice comes over the phone in agitated waves, curt and brisk. “Remember.”
There is silence.
“Then why did you call me?” Normally she’d cut him down with a biting comment, but that time has passed for them.
“Because I had nothing better to do.”
And, since I have nothing better to post, I wrote a stupid essay for my Writing about Society class about self-image. It actually went pretty well when I read it, or in the words of my professor, "put that in your pipe and smoke it."
Self-Image
In order to think honestly on my self-image, I suppose I could try out the question “how do I see myself?” Self-images are not picture-perfect, they can be like fun-house mirrors, distorted for humor’s sake. Or perhaps this distortion is because a person tends not to look in the mirror and see the ideals: it’s the flaws that garner the most attention. It would be honest to state that what I see in the mirror are bits and pieces of a large puzzle and I am still just figuring it all out. I’m only 19 and I know I don’t have all the answers, especially about the essential ingredients of my personality.
So, first and foremost, besides my upbringing and cultural heritage, I am a writer. That is one definition of “me.” I believe that I’m able to produce some interesting little stories. However, I would not consider myself a risk-taker. I’ll hesitate before sharing a tale and I can’t just write on the spot. However, that certainly defines an aspect of myself.
Yet if I am just labeled “a writer,” my ethnic background gets pushed to the side like a forgotten fact despite its importance. I am half Puerto Rican and I am proud in my status as the whitest Hispanic anyone will ever meet. It sounds odd, although truthfully, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s better to be different that to be like everyone else. I embrace being the unique one, even if I’m often the odd one out.
Personality-wise, I know that my “oddness” isn’t what one would perceive the instant they met me. It’s not a calculated motive, it’s simply because I am often quiet or reserved in public. I have traits that aren’t helpful: I worry and sometimes I’m pessimistic. The negative side of myself isn’t bad or wrong; in fact, I still think I’m something of an optimist. It’s a bit like a silly double-self identity crisis, being negative and positive at the same time, worrying about everything, yet certain that everything comes together in the end.
Self-image itself is hard to define not just due to over-simplified explanations. A person may think of himself/herself as proud and then grow to be humble (for growth is the natural process, no matter how sure a person’s identity may be), for that is how life influences how a person develops. I am a never-ending game of “fill in the blanks” and I’ve run out of adjectives. Because in the end, no matter who I am, or what I think defines me as a person, it’s not going to cover the whole story because of my flaws. They change, they mend, they heal, new ones arrive and it all changes the very foundation of “me” and I have to roll with the changes and find new words that say “I am *this.*”
I'm going to be insanely busy tonight, which I hate, but there's nothing I can do about it. Sigh.
I'm working on Wesley/Lilah story, which dialogue-wise seems to flow nicely, but it seems to be missing that little extra something that's just necessary to the story. I'm spoiled as all hell and I know what comes next, but dammit, I need some denial for my favorite dark 'ship.
“You realize that this is normally time for sleeping?” She’s groggy and annoyed, and she doesn’t even have to look at the caller ID to see who would be calling at three in the morning.
“Yes. And you’re awake.”
She hesitates before answering him. “Thinking about my options.”
“Ever the lawyer, even without a job.”
“Insults result in hang ups and no phone sex.”
“I wasn’t calling you for that.” His voice comes over the phone in agitated waves, curt and brisk. “Remember.”
There is silence.
“Then why did you call me?” Normally she’d cut him down with a biting comment, but that time has passed for them.
“Because I had nothing better to do.”
And, since I have nothing better to post, I wrote a stupid essay for my Writing about Society class about self-image. It actually went pretty well when I read it, or in the words of my professor, "put that in your pipe and smoke it."
Self-Image
In order to think honestly on my self-image, I suppose I could try out the question “how do I see myself?” Self-images are not picture-perfect, they can be like fun-house mirrors, distorted for humor’s sake. Or perhaps this distortion is because a person tends not to look in the mirror and see the ideals: it’s the flaws that garner the most attention. It would be honest to state that what I see in the mirror are bits and pieces of a large puzzle and I am still just figuring it all out. I’m only 19 and I know I don’t have all the answers, especially about the essential ingredients of my personality.
So, first and foremost, besides my upbringing and cultural heritage, I am a writer. That is one definition of “me.” I believe that I’m able to produce some interesting little stories. However, I would not consider myself a risk-taker. I’ll hesitate before sharing a tale and I can’t just write on the spot. However, that certainly defines an aspect of myself.
Yet if I am just labeled “a writer,” my ethnic background gets pushed to the side like a forgotten fact despite its importance. I am half Puerto Rican and I am proud in my status as the whitest Hispanic anyone will ever meet. It sounds odd, although truthfully, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s better to be different that to be like everyone else. I embrace being the unique one, even if I’m often the odd one out.
Personality-wise, I know that my “oddness” isn’t what one would perceive the instant they met me. It’s not a calculated motive, it’s simply because I am often quiet or reserved in public. I have traits that aren’t helpful: I worry and sometimes I’m pessimistic. The negative side of myself isn’t bad or wrong; in fact, I still think I’m something of an optimist. It’s a bit like a silly double-self identity crisis, being negative and positive at the same time, worrying about everything, yet certain that everything comes together in the end.
Self-image itself is hard to define not just due to over-simplified explanations. A person may think of himself/herself as proud and then grow to be humble (for growth is the natural process, no matter how sure a person’s identity may be), for that is how life influences how a person develops. I am a never-ending game of “fill in the blanks” and I’ve run out of adjectives. Because in the end, no matter who I am, or what I think defines me as a person, it’s not going to cover the whole story because of my flaws. They change, they mend, they heal, new ones arrive and it all changes the very foundation of “me” and I have to roll with the changes and find new words that say “I am *this.*”
I'm going to be insanely busy tonight, which I hate, but there's nothing I can do about it. Sigh.