Showing posts with label insanity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insanity. Show all posts
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We'd waste our weeks beneath the sun

So basically I've done absolutely nothing this week besides read a few chapters of The Odyssey and go to the movies once.  And I continued that trend today and I'm not even thinking about anything very interesting right now so I'm not sure what I'm going to write, but I promised myself that I would anyway.  There is something going on outside my window and it's loud and sounds vaguely like construction, which is ridiculous considering it's 10 o'clock and can't be the workers on the freeway because it's too close.

Okay, so what I'm thinking right now is - is the frozen food section different in Britain?  I feel like that's a dead giveaway in writing, a way to let your readers know that you're crap and they should just give up now - when your setting feels unauthentic.  Or when your characters stay stupid things or use cliches that no one ever uses or behave too well.  How do you make what you're writing feel real?  Or at least not completely ridiculous.

I think I need to start school now.  I need a routine and other things to think about besides Odysseus and stupid romcoms on Netflix.
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Karen dit que Paris c'est grand

What if I blogged every day in August, at least until I leave for school?  And I mean substantial posts.  With thoughts about things and more than just lists of daily activities.  So today is August 1st and it's the beginning of my last month at home and so it's the beginning on 23ish posts in a row.

I just finished watching a romcom called "Someone Like You" and it was adorable, like all romantic comedies are, but there always comes a point when I'm watching one of these movies where I have this sort of out-of-body experience where I realize that what's making me so happy, what I'm enjoying so much, is crap spewed out by Hollywood big wigs and Nicholas Sparks and whoever.  And I know that's really cynical, and I guess what I'm saying is that I really enjoy watching relationships develop in movies and novels and such because when you're living your life and forming bonds with people you don't realize you are until one day you look at who you're sitting next to, and suddenly think, how did I become friends with you?

That's how I've been looking at everything lately, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.  To clarify:  I'm studying everything and everyone and it all seems like something I could write about.  That's the object, isn't it, a really good story?  But the problem is that every time I think of something and begin to write it down, I realize I've seen it played out a million times in bad movies and poorly written novels.  Which begs the question:  if I rewrite Twilight, or the essence of it at least, changing the names and the vampire into a mermaid and whatnot, and if I write it well, as in really effing good, does that make it okay?  Or am I stealing someone's original idea?  Are any ideas really original?  I once had this quote on a post-it not stuck to my computer screen, something about how if you wanted to bake a totally original apple pie you'd have to go back and plant the first apple tree yourself, or something like that.

So everything is just a recycling of old ideas.  I guess my main question here is, if that's true, why are we wasting our time with crap?  Why do I watch so many bad movies and read so many crappy books when there is so much more out there?  Why do we default to what's easiest?  Why do you have to search really hard to find the good books at the bookstore, but the crappy bestsellers (not to generalize that all bestsellers are crappy, because they definitely aren't) are right at the front, on the buy-one-get-one-half-off table?  Why is the bookstore the most crowded when everything is 40% off because the store is closing?  That makes me really sad.  But that's not the point.

The point is:  I want to write a really good book.  But first I have to read and watch and listen and learn everything I can.  So should I be wasting my time with bad romcoms because they're easy to get, or should I work harder to find the good ones?  And more importantly, is there such a thing as a good romcom?  Who came up with that word in the first place?
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It's not a silly little moment it's not the storm before the calm

I don't know what's wrong with me lately but I haven't slept all the way through the night in two or three weeks, except for Friday nights and sometimes Saturdays.  I keep waking up between one and four in the morning, and looking at the clock and rolling over and going back to sleep, but in that one second that I look at the clock and comprehend that it's too early to get up, my brain turns back on and it's going and going and going and then it's hard to fall back asleep again.  Usually it's stress that keeps me awake, but I'm not stressed.  I'm just... not.  I have barely any schoolwork and no apps to worry about and I've mastered my car, although parking's still a pain in the ass, and I have new boots that I love. 

I think I'm just thinking too much.  But I shouldn't have to sacrifice my sleep so that I can think.  Opportunity costs economics Karl Marx government is boring so is psych we never do any work I miss work what is wrong with me I wish I was Veronica Mars or Eleanor Roosevelt although I'd definitely go by Ellie I miss Ellie it was really nice of her to help me with math today, etc.

I need a nap.
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It's been like a permanent December

I have been writing unsigned love letters, long soliloquies of the way I wish things were, for years, filling notebooks and word docs and the occasional margin of my math notes, but what it all comes down to is that everything is unsigned, I'm always unsigned, and I disguise myself and my letters and I assume new identity after new identity, but in the end the commonality is that I am not the kind of person whom things happen for naturally, and I am not the kind of person who is tenacious enough to go after what she wants.

So I've been writing this letter to you in my head for a few days, and basically, I like you, there we have it, but you can't ever know, because of who you are and who I wish I wasn't and because of how I knew your name even before I saw your face. I think you're cute and I like your smile, and meanwhile I write blog posts and add another hundred words to my "novel" that I'll never let anyone read again. You barely even know I exist, and that sounds cliche because it is cliche, because I'm a cliched teenage girl with a crush on a boy in a cliche high school, and as much as I can't wait to escape and build a new world for myself next year, I don't have any hopes that things will change for me now, because in the end I'm still me and you're still you, and things are just the way that things are.

Now it's getting late and I'm so damn cold, and I can't help but know that in the end this will fade like most things do, and I will graduate from high school and look around me at these people that I've spent the last four years with, and I'll pray that they've had a better last four years than I have but that I'll have a better future.