I suppose I ought to pick a style of some sort.

I could be good - I will be good - but I have a lot of work to do to get there.

I need to figure out what I want. I need some semblance of a goal. Otherwise I'm not going anywhere, and I don't want to be stuck here. Here is boring. I've been here, I need new places to go, things to do.


Webcomic? Video game? Playscript? Book? All of the above? Should I be working on my drawing skills right now? Should I be figuring out how to code? Should I be working more heavily on writing and finishing the 100prompts? Yes to the last for sure, tentative yes to the first as it makes me happy, tentative yes to the second as I love video games, yes to the third as it'll force me to work on my dialogue.

Not that that really helped. 100prompts I can do during school, assuming that other people cooperate and leave me alone. Which they won't, but I'll get unpleasant if I must. Playscript ought to work well enough with that, I suppose. I can fit it in as well. Drawing I will not do during school, because I hate people looking at what I'm doing, so I suppose it'll be more late nights for me. I'll have to wait on coding, as I don't have anything to code with. Alas.

Should I start in the beginning? The middle? The end? Elsewhere? I do think starting in the beginning would help. It's fleshed out enough that I know where I'm going, but it's hardly boring, as I'm not sure what goes where. I suppose I should write the beginning in novelesque form if I want to get anywhere. I do have it pictured in my mind adequately. I ought to be able to go from there.

:wumpscut:

I really need to buy a :wumpscut: CD. Goodness, they do have a lot of them out. Their stuff is pretty sexy, and we all know how much I like sexy music.

Actually, I'm just really sick of all the crappy music that people choose to listen to. I am, of course, heavily biased - but honestly, even when I listened to Linkin Park and Evanescence, I listened to Leonard Cohen and Dead Can Dance. There are a lot of people out there who just listen to crap. Is that really what you want to surround yourself with?

Apparently so.

Prompts - or, perhaps, vignettes

Since I don't have the attention span to write anything serious, I suppose I should work up to it the hard way. Or the easy way. Not sure which.

I've got terrible amounts of time in school anyway.

Shoo, shoo! Go do something interesting.

Cheers,
kiiziie

My parents keep stealing my music...

And I don't even mean the Pink Floyd, either. (Well, not just the Pink Floyd.) My mom has stolen my Legendary Pink Dots and my dad has stolen my Coil. Obviously enough, I think this is a hilarious state of affairs. Sure, they're godless heathens (just like me!), but they're also quite conservative. My mom is one of the most conservative people I know, actually. And yet she loves my crazy hippie-dippie music! And they're basically the only people I know who at all share my taste in music. Saaad. They've out-cooled my peers! The horror!

More in-depth:
My mom: The Legendary Pink Dots, Current 93, Death In June, Captain Beefheart, Cabaret Voltaire, Coil
My dad: Dead Can Dance, Cocteau Twins, Coil, Love Spirals Downwards, Current 93, The Legendary Pink Dots

The Whispering Wall

"THE MODERN MAN: I was brushing my teeth when the power went down. You cannot prepare for that, the electric toothbrush just ceased functioning and I did not know what to do. Sure, I tried a manual spin in my mouth, but it was far too early for that and my fingers were not fast enough. I grabbed the soap with both hands and bit, as if it was a burger. Alas, it was disgusting and pointless as the essence of last nights excesses was still there. Decided upon a strong coffee, something to disguise that lingering taste. Of course the coffee machine was dead. It may sound kind of pathetic, but it seemed to be the right time to call the housekeeper on my mobile as I confess I had no idea of how to change a fuse. The message said: "Battery empty, please recharge." I just had to get out of that apartment right away. I punched in the exit code five, six, seven times but nothing happened. Found myself pounding, just pounding on that reinforced, heavily padded, soundproofed front door of mine wondering if it was just me. It was. I found out at around 9pm that I was not alone in my dilemma when the first light went on in the great glass tower across the divide. 9pm. Monday. Normally the time to switch off that computer order in a Malay Kofta, some samosas, a carton of wine... normally, time to put my feet up and read a good book because I firmly believe that technology is not everything. Instead, I found myself scurrying around the apartment on borrowed illumination. Found half of a packet of crackers left by my last girlfriend a few weeks ago. I ate them slowly. Of course I slept badly. I mark the days much like a castaway on a raft in the open sea... little blue lines on the wall with that old ballpoint pen. Sadly, it is running dry. Even so, I have given up the shouting, the pummeling, because it is pointless. I even tried to establish a routine: I tidy up the place daily with my bare hands, but I imagine it will not be long now. The last thing I did before the power went down was to command the bank to make all of my regular payments automatic. They will not come looking for me; and, as I am reasonably wealthy, I will not be saved by the bill. Hope you appreciate the humour at such a seemingly desperate moment. Lately, I have been wondering if my networking friends will miss me, but I doubt it. Oh, I am decent enough company, good for the odd inspired one liner. I am amusing, but hardly essential. I know what you are thinking, and I agree it looks bad. However, do not worry about me. Nobody lives forever and I have accepted my fate. Besides, I have a shelf packed with good books. THE END."

Polyamory

I've always been somewhat fascinated by the idea of polyamory. Would it work? Hell if I know. Probably not all the time. Maybe not super-serious-intense-crazy relationships. But just for kicks? Why not? Even for keeps? Again, why not? I don't even know.

We are all beautiful.

Aha. I've switched ideas. Which is theoretically a bad thing, but this is the start of it all. Yes? And it's merely a matter of... starting it, making sure things happen the way they should, new twists and turns. I could write this baby in my sleep.

I already did.

I'm too tired to write.

Leaving me... where?

I'm just so tired. I don't have anything to care about if I'm not writing. It doesn't matter if I don't have that small bit of meaning, that small bit of sheer transcendence, that small bit of making my life interesting and perhaps even worthwhile.

I'm so sick of being alive. Nothing dramatic like I want to die or anything, but... I don't see meaning in this. In any of this.

I think it's NAPTIME! And people wonder why I insist on getting a certain amount of sleep every night? I'm not pretty when I'm sleep-deprived. I'm beautiful, sure, but I'm always beautiful... and I could be so much more.

Script Frenzy

I'm a whore and I created an entire blog just so I can bitch about Script Frenzy.

I recently realized that about 95% of my characters are utter assholes. And I love them to bits and pieces. I suspect this is what I get for being, well, me. Goddammit, if I had to pick a Harry Potter house (yes, I just watched the 5th movie, and yes, I do adore Lucius Malfoy, because he's rather foppy and makes me think of 30% of Oscar Wilde's characters, hence my current fondness for Harry Potter), it would totally be Slytherin. Cutthroat ambition? Thirst for power? Oh hell yes, count me in. You think I'm kidding? Well... I do love Ravenclaw too, a bit. I would make a good Ravenclaw. I'm dorky, nerdy, and geeky. I love learning. I hate stupid people. Nonetheless... teh intarnetz tells me that I would be a fantastic Slytherin, which amuses the hell out of me. (Actually, teh intarnetz tend to tell me I would be a fantastic Slytherin, an only slightly less fantastic Ravenclaw, a quite decent Gryffindor, and an utterly abysmal Hufflepuff. Amusingly enough, the only house I actively dislike (for myself, at least) is Hufflepuff, so I imagine I'm set! Gosh, I would be a terrible Hufflepuff. All that... work! Goodness. That makes me sound terrible. That's life.

Whoa, anyway. That's what I get for currently working with a small gaggle of (pre)-teenage boys and girls. The ones that aren't actively malicious do tend to be rather self-centered and see the world in terms of black-and-white. Either that or they're timid little brats. OK, fine, except for the kid who spends much of his time baking and calming people down. I think I would actively like that kid as a person, not just a character. I'm much more fond of fictional characters than I am of real people, anyway.

I suppose this doesn't do my darling babies credit, does it? I don't know. I personally find them all... compelling, to say the least. Or the most. Likability doesn't matter - indeed, I frequently find it irrelevant, both in books and in real life - so much as personality. And style. Oh yes.

God, this is going to be a party. 100 pages in 30 days? Sa-WEET!

EDIT: I may find this useful. I may not. I haven't decided yet, really.

• artisans
• innovative, charismatic
• impulsive
• rationals
• strong-willed, resourceful
• aggressive
• guardians
• dependable, stable
• self-deprecating
• idealists
• insightful, conscientious
• inflexible