Today and for the past week or so that I’ve been out of the city, spending time with family made me realize just how encouraging the people around you are when they love you and truly care about you. I am blessed to have one of the most amazing families on the planet.
I would say … We’re not perfect.
Just like everyone else.
But love is unconditional, y’know?
* “Saying it once is fine. But saying it a million times is what you like to call ‘annoying’.” He pursed his lips, waiting for my reaction.
“… Touche.” Because he was right, of course. [Except "Touche" with one of those apostrophe E things, because I'm not sure how to do that on this keyboard right now.]
Another thing I’ve learned about myself — I’m growing up.
I guess, at this age, it’s not okay to just scream and cry until you get what you want. For one, it’s a waste of energy, and in my experience, crying and whining about stupid first world shit is bullshit. And screw you if you think I curse too much in my writing because I am perfectly delightful to be around in person. And screw — whoa.
I can get a little passionate sometimes. Which is something I’m also trying to control. I can get out of hand, and it’s just not a very admirable trait. Sometimes, I just do it because it’s interesting. But I’m so sensitive to emotions, like … The scope of my ridiculous experiences tickle my empathy nipples.
I’m snickering right now.
Because writing is hilarious.
When I was participating in NaNoWriMo, [In Robotic Voice: "THE BEST WRITING EXPERIENCE EVER"], I was writing every single day because it was important for me to make a deadline. But my book was … I look back on that experience and the words I wrote, and I think, “I should have just written down my ideas for the book. I should have written down the bare bones at least. Maybe not things perfectly formed, but at least a seed planted and waiting for me to revisit and grow. But sometimes, I just wrote diary entries. Like, experiences doing NaNoWriMo. Writing down exactly when and why I would fill in these terrible –
I think –
[Fetches a glass of water.]
[Well, it's not really a glass -- it's like this Big Red Protein Shake Gulpy Thing.]
[Edit: I should say, I did write down the bare bones of some things, but these were only snippets of the final version for my NaNoWriMo novel. They weren't the whole pie, y'know? Only the basic ingredients. You gotta' cook em up a little. Prepare them the right way. Why am I using so many suggestive food phrases? I just wish I wrote more. I guess I still can. I guess I can do whatever I want. Lol. Sweet.]
Coming back to my laptop, I’m re-reading what I just wrote, sipping on this delicious BRPSGT — NORLY; it’s delicious — thinking, I should re-write that entire thing.
But having done NaNoWriMo, a lot of novel-writing is that first draft. It’s the most interesting part. It’s where the idea starts, but a couple edits later, turns that thing into fucking — there’s a curseword for you – gold. So in your first draft, you get to be you. You get to write down your idea, along with a whole bunch of other ideas that may not be related, but help an editor understand your mind.
So in writing these manuscripts, you need to think about your audience regardless of whether it’s your first draft or not. Your mind must be interesting as well. You, the author, need to have a story to tell.
I’ve written my story way too many fucking times.
Can I just curse?! Stop giving me reasons to be self-conscious, guys. Have you ever heard me curse often and loudly in person? I mean, aside from in drunken and heated debates, since those are the best times to curse, and I stand by my explanation?
Sometimes I like fanmail.
Sometimes, not so much.
I’m kind of … Weirded out by love letters. I get so many. And they just don’t make sense to me. You can’t possibly love me without knowing who I am. You’re only getting this weird Internetty side. And this isn’t me. This is only a piece of my puzzle. And if you judge me by my writing — oh man. Please. Just. Don’t do that to me. It doesn’t make sense. You have to evaluate me as a whole. And if meeting me will help you out, I promise you, I am pretty shitty in person.
Sometimes so frighteningly cool it’s unnerving.
Also, I’ve never been rude to anyone in person unless they’ve deserved it. I’m a nice person, but I have limits just like everyone else. Please. I would appreciate it if you allowed me my space to breathe and enjoy myself. Sometimes, just changing the topic with me is a great way to sweep the bullshit off the table. Sometimes. Unless it’s serious. Then you need a talking to, buddy.
One time, I was rude to someone because he was making one of my friends in high school really uncomfortable. She looked super upset, but she was too nice to stand up for herself. I couldn’t take it. I told him to shut up, and that he was being a “jerk”, and being very disrespectful. He barked at me — something about how I had no ass. And my first thought was, “Do people actually care about that?” I do, but for different reasons. Because I like looking at my butt in the mirror.
Insults don’t make sense to me.
Are you saying I’m supposed to evaluate myself based on your opinion?
As Spock would say, that’s “illogical.”
At this point in my entries, I usually stop and look over my work, trying to see what I should cut out, edit, or chop and turn into other posts about topics I clearly need to expound upon. But NaNoWriMo has sort of undone that first instinct in me. Instead, it’s taught me to spill out creativity raw so I at least have the ingredients for my story on the table. Because, and I forget who said this, “It is easier to edit than it is to write.” Or something like that. So just get it all out on the table.
My writing has changed.
When it comes to my writing, sometimes,I want to write a story. And other times, I just want to see my thoughts on paper.
But lately, when I feel something, I want to draw. Or paint. Or … Y’know. Subtly hide phallic symbols in everything I draw because this vow of chastity is killing me. What am I doing to myself?
Is this my career?
I get so many votes to pursue different things. And I just don’t like that it matters. Metrics are cool, but not when it comes to determining the pathway for of my life. I just kind of want to do what I want to do within the limits of comfortably doing them. And I figure, that’s kind of an okay thing to ask for. In fact, that seems perfectly acceptable to me.
I would like to write.
But since I can’t write a cool column for a magazine or Entertainment site or whatever, I’ll just, y’know, write my “column” here. And I can’t believe how long some of you have been reading me. My mind is blown. Would you follow me if I wrote for a magazine that paid me to enjoy my life and write about what happens to me? Because even I would read that.
You do not want to unleash this tiger.
Thank you for giving the tiniest little shit.
With a pleased grin,
PS. The original title for this blog post was, “Fuck linking. Seriously. I’m sick of it. Look for it yourself.” I decided against that.