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themonicabird.com/post/3273155431/date-a-girl-who-reads-date-a-girl-who-spends-her
I didn't write that, but I think it's lovely. Speaking of lovely, it's lovely to be writing again- I haven't written anything of any length in fiction yet, but I'm writing poetry and trying to keep a daily journal. Which is why I'm here, incidentally. MY paper journal has been in the car for the last three days and I've forgotten to take it out. I took it with me when I visited Dustin in Milwaukee and I forgot to take it out. I don't seem to want to write as much when I'm around other people- I'm worried that they'll think it's silly. Especially Dustin which is doubly silly because he'd tell me to do whatever makes me happy. He might smirk or smile a little bit, but that's his prerogative. I love writing, I have since I was in middle school and I joined the writing club- and don't even get me started on how much I love reading. I fully intend to spend $50 a month at least on books for the rest of my life. It's a goal.
The internet clouds my head sometimes; I think it's because I didn't have a tv growing up. I didn't get used to the sensation of constantly being bombarded with ads and the like. Plus, if you don't like something on the internet then there is always a recourse like posting a nasty comment or spamming their email or switching websites. I love cute kitties, I love facebook, I love talking with my friends, I love reading webcomics, I love reading the news (I don't have cable so that's the only way I get mine), I love looking up directions.
I hate that I don't have to think anymore because I can google. I hate that I don't have to call my friends to try to keep in touch because I can just look at their twitter or their facebook or their myspace. I hate that I feel compelled to do so. I hate that people can turn the internet into a place to bully and belittle others just because they are "different."
I like that the internet is a place for free thought and expression. That great artists and writers and musicians can share their work and become greater through appreciation.
This is supposed to be about writing. Right.
Isn't it strange sometimes how people stuff themselves into little boxes? We get frustrated when others do it, but maybe when the boxes are of our own making there's something better fitting about them. I had a big box once- it was a refrigerator box that my mom allowed me to have. I hung blankets on the end and cut a door out of it and put it in my bedroom. It was awesome.
Writing more is a current goal of mine. It's been sneaking up on me for a couple of years now- John encouraged me to write for NaNoWriMo, which I sadly never finished, and my most recent roommate was an amateur writer herself. I don't know how or when, but i intend to write as often as I can. Here, on paper, with the magnetic poetry on my fridge, what have you.
Do you know, I get my best inspiration when I can sit as a passenger in a car and daydream? I read a long time ago that there is a specific part of brain wave that can only works when another part of the brain is busy- it works when one part of your brain is focused on something really tedious (like showering). I guess that part of the brain is in control of things like creativity. It made a lot of sense to me, because of the way humans do art. Artists have a brush and paint, so their motor skills are engaged, leaving the other part of the mind to create the painting. There are dozens of other examples I can think of, and I'll try to find the link. I guess more people should pay attention to what they think about in the shower.
Thought for the day: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but sometimes it may be necessary to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye." -Jim Henson (Via Miss Piggy)
I didn't write that, but I think it's lovely. Speaking of lovely, it's lovely to be writing again- I haven't written anything of any length in fiction yet, but I'm writing poetry and trying to keep a daily journal. Which is why I'm here, incidentally. MY paper journal has been in the car for the last three days and I've forgotten to take it out. I took it with me when I visited Dustin in Milwaukee and I forgot to take it out. I don't seem to want to write as much when I'm around other people- I'm worried that they'll think it's silly. Especially Dustin which is doubly silly because he'd tell me to do whatever makes me happy. He might smirk or smile a little bit, but that's his prerogative. I love writing, I have since I was in middle school and I joined the writing club- and don't even get me started on how much I love reading. I fully intend to spend $50 a month at least on books for the rest of my life. It's a goal.
The internet clouds my head sometimes; I think it's because I didn't have a tv growing up. I didn't get used to the sensation of constantly being bombarded with ads and the like. Plus, if you don't like something on the internet then there is always a recourse like posting a nasty comment or spamming their email or switching websites. I love cute kitties, I love facebook, I love talking with my friends, I love reading webcomics, I love reading the news (I don't have cable so that's the only way I get mine), I love looking up directions.
I hate that I don't have to think anymore because I can google. I hate that I don't have to call my friends to try to keep in touch because I can just look at their twitter or their facebook or their myspace. I hate that I feel compelled to do so. I hate that people can turn the internet into a place to bully and belittle others just because they are "different."
I like that the internet is a place for free thought and expression. That great artists and writers and musicians can share their work and become greater through appreciation.
This is supposed to be about writing. Right.
Isn't it strange sometimes how people stuff themselves into little boxes? We get frustrated when others do it, but maybe when the boxes are of our own making there's something better fitting about them. I had a big box once- it was a refrigerator box that my mom allowed me to have. I hung blankets on the end and cut a door out of it and put it in my bedroom. It was awesome.
Writing more is a current goal of mine. It's been sneaking up on me for a couple of years now- John encouraged me to write for NaNoWriMo, which I sadly never finished, and my most recent roommate was an amateur writer herself. I don't know how or when, but i intend to write as often as I can. Here, on paper, with the magnetic poetry on my fridge, what have you.
Do you know, I get my best inspiration when I can sit as a passenger in a car and daydream? I read a long time ago that there is a specific part of brain wave that can only works when another part of the brain is busy- it works when one part of your brain is focused on something really tedious (like showering). I guess that part of the brain is in control of things like creativity. It made a lot of sense to me, because of the way humans do art. Artists have a brush and paint, so their motor skills are engaged, leaving the other part of the mind to create the painting. There are dozens of other examples I can think of, and I'll try to find the link. I guess more people should pay attention to what they think about in the shower.
Thought for the day: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but sometimes it may be necessary to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye." -Jim Henson (Via Miss Piggy)