Journal Entries
This is random. Woo.
Posted Jan 2, 2003
Right, so here I am, sitting on my unmade bed, with a chipped and very decidedly purple guitar pick (Which are just the greatest things to chew on, for the record. I haven’t played guitar in like five or so years, and I rarely used a pick when I did, but I got accustomed to chewing on them. So I do still chew on them. But only Fender mediums. And in particular the gel ones. Yum. Nothing finer. This purple one has been chipped to the point that no one should ever want to play with it, methinks, but I know that I have a white one hiding somewhereabouts and when I find it, it will end up just as bad or worse. Chewed to bits. Perhaps I should try to sell them on e-bay at some point. …That would be interesting. But anyway! Yes. I have a habit of chewing guitar picks and I don’t play. What of it…? We all have our little idiosyncrasies, don’t we? This just happens to be mine.) in my mouth, pondering the future of my life. Which is actually funny. Now that I think on it, because really I haven’t got much of my life in order at all. It’s insane, I know, I mean, you’re probably saying something like “well hell, you’ve gotten yourself enough together to get of and get this written, so what the hell are you complaining about?” but it’s really been a struggle for me. (Oh and before I forget, I have a really bad habit of writing in parentheses. So get used to it.)
Mostly I sit about and dream about things. Which isn’t too bad a thing really, all things considered. But when all you do is dream, and never actually get up and do anything about said dreams.
Here’s a chief example. I have a crush on this guy named Ross from the first day I meet him. And then I get to know him a bit better and I decide that yeah, he’s a good guy, I ought to snatch him up then, and I wait four mother
ing years to go after him proper. (Keep in mind that I have a boyfriend at this point as well, and yes I am still harbouring said crush, only now said crush has turned into something more like love, though I evidently haven’t noticed,) And so eventually, after waiting and dreaming for four years, I get him.
And no, I am not complaining, don’t take it as that, please, I’m just saying, look at how long that took me.
And now there’s the thing about writing a book. I wrote my first one. All I could think about was that goddamn book. And so I wrote and wrote and wrote, and I come out with this great little novel, (only it isn’t so great now that I look back and read through it, thought it might actually be able to be marketed, I just can’t be bothered to try to get that piece of crap published,) and I never manage to get it published. And yes I said just now in parentheses that it was too much of a piece of crap to bother with, but back in high school I didn’t think so little of it.
So why didn’t I act? LAZINESS! It’s a plague, I tell you. I would so much rather be doing other things than what I should be doing… Gah, I’m sure you understand. Like when I’m supposed to be writing a paper I’d rather be hanging out on my forums on h2g2 or when I’m supposed to be cleaning house I’d rather be playing Playstation. And here’s the confession of the month; honestly as much as I like writing I’d rather be doing any other number of things (within reason).
And I know you’re going “What the ?” but it’s true. It’s really truly true. I don’t know why I feel this way, I just do. Writing is just so much work anymore, I always feel like I’m stealing from people, and I just stop and go “Yeah so why am I doing this again…?”
Whenever I start anything I can’t ing finish it. I started an oil pastel of Galadriel a while back and it looks fantastic so far, but I can’t bring myself to actually finish it. It just sits in the corner of my room being not done, and I stare at it and go “Oh hey, I ought to finish that, huh.” And I never ing do.
And the same goes for the general state of my room right now. I would like to paint it and rearrange the furniture(and I’d like to do it in the general style of a FFX temple, glyphs and all,) but to have it painted I would have to clean it, and then I would have to empty it, and then there’s the thing with covering the carpet and actually doing the painting, and then when that’s all done, and I’ve finished watching the paint dry (Uugh, I hate that cliché, but hey, I would be watching it dry, more than likely,) I’d have to move my stuff back in and arrange it in an aesthetically pleasing manner. And that would take effort. And I’m like Gya… Never mind that then. Sounds like work. Yuck.
And back to writing, it was more or less the same with this damn laptop. I was like “Ah, when I get a laptop I’ll use it all the time and I’ll revise my piece of crap first novel and all will be well,” and all that. But did I ever? No. Have I any plans to? …Well admittedly I’m thinking of actually compiling the three files into one when I’m done ranting here. So that’s something at least.
And on an off-note, damn, just may it be known that I type really ing fast. And I don’t know why. Cause I type really oddly mostly with my right hand and a bit with my left, depending on which side of the keyboard I’m on at the time, the only bad thing is when I get all dyslexic and hit the wrong keys. Which now that I’m thinking about it I’m doing with more frequency.
Update: I’ve just checked those files, skimmed a bit of them, compiled them, and realised that I never actually finished the story. I can’t ing believe that. I just went and left it unfinished. Maybe my problem is that I don’t necessarily like the idea that things have to end. Even when reading novels from my favourite authors (namely Gaiman, Pratchett, Tolkien and Adams,) I always spend time afterward thinking of what might have happened if their stories hadn’t ended. If they just went on. (I think perhaps Adams had a similar complex, what with his five book trilogy with no foreseeable end, even when he blew up the Earth. Twice.)
It also has occurred to me that when I do want to finish something, I’m always hurrying to do it. Its as if there’s always something else that I have to do that’s infinitely more important. (It’s Christmas now, for anyone who’s interested in that sort of thing. Just turned over to midnight.) I mean, the fifty percent of the reason I want to write and be successful is because I really want to live somewhere in the UK. Or Ireland (I was only just recently given a brief explanation on successions and things as such about the British isles by a young Irishman who chided me severely about not being up to the times with the fact that Ireland is its own entity. Bleh. But for some reason I still lurve ya Brian, so who the hell cares, ya?). Or something. (I’m just sick of this country, but that’s another rant for another time and I’ll just go back to what I was on about originally.
I write from a need. I need a medium for getting these thoughts out of my head. I also need to get the hell out of here. (Personally I think my mother would be more than just a bit pissed off to hear about that, but hey, she’ll hear about it eventually anyway, so there we are then. And I want Ross to come with me because I love him and all that, and I want, if we have kids, for those kids to have English accents. And they inevitably will because gods know that three days in to our moving there I’ll be talking like a local… Hopefully. Heh.)
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Latest reply: Jan 2, 2003
Sarcasm runs amok
Posted Nov 12, 2002
I BOW TO NO MAN...!
Discuss this Journal entry [1]
Latest reply: Nov 12, 2002
:-P
Posted Nov 11, 2002
Rimmer is mean, just so the lot of you know.
Oh, and hey, it looks like I'm gonna be doing arcticles for the post again soon! ...Provided Shazz and I can figure out my stoopid login theng, heh. 
Discuss this Journal entry [1]
Latest reply: Nov 11, 2002
I wanna llama
Posted Nov 11, 2002
Lookit.
http://www.phish.net/PhishFAQ/images/llama.gif
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Latest reply: Nov 11, 2002
Madness, in all forms
Posted Apr 25, 2002
I anti-regret to inform all who visit my site that I am going mad. I am going mad. I am going mad. (sometimes if you say it three times it sounds neat, and usually gets the point across quite nicely. I think it worked rather well there, don't you?)
So anyway!
Yesterday, I was in my English class, minding my own buisness, and all the sudden I get handed back these 2 papers from my professor. (I'd rewritten both of them for a higher grade, you see.) And the grade on one of them was failing. And the other it didn't even appear that she'd looked at. Because she hadn't. But anyway. So I cried.
Keep in mind I don't do that crying thing often; on many occasions I don't think there's a point for it. But I did, because I don't have a tendancy to go about failing classes, particularly nt English classes, because I am, in fact, majoring in English. I have never failed an English class in my life. I believe I once got a B+, and I recall that that was the semester that I was slacking. So I'm sure you understand why I was so upset.
The funny thing about this professor is that she'll tell you she wants something one way, and then it goes a completely different way when she actually gets about to grading the paper. It's madening. It drives me insane, and I really wish she's stop doing it.
Because, as I said in the first line, I am going mad.
-JJ
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Latest reply: Apr 25, 2002
Jade (Like a lithium flower just about to bloom... She's incredible math.) and Thras (the token dragon dæmon)
Researcher U185933
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