So, Google put up a doodle of a dictator and not anything related (even a bunny?) to Easter. Naturally, this bothered me and my family. I have friends who have officially boycotted Google - uninstalled Chrome, changed their search to Bing, deactivated their gmail accounts.
I was on Twitter and was thinking through how I wanted to handle this situation. Sure, I was angry that the celebration that I hold very dear to my heart was overridden by a mere person, but then I sat back and took a few deep breaths.
Who am I to go off the handle about this?
Yes, this bothers me. Yes, I am disappointed in Google. Yes, I am a little offended. But I'm not going to condemn the people behind Google for this choice. I don't think their choice was a good one, but I'm also not going to start spewing hate at them. Not only would it accomplish squat, it would do nothing but show how judgmental Christians can be.
I can't judge the people behind this choice. The only thing I can do is love them in spite of their choice. Let's face it. At the end of the day, Jesus still died for those people too. Like I said, I'm not proud of Google, but I'm not going to condemn those responsible for that decision - I have no power to do that. There's only one Judge, and He's the one who sees it all. He knows the state of everyone on the planet. I do not. So who am I to determine the "judgement" ('cause remember, Google is a huge corporation. We screaming banshees of the internet are just a pile of noise they can choose to ignore), of someone(s) actions?
That's right, I'm no one. Just a fellow sinner trying to display God's love and compassion and Jesus' sacrifice. Remember fellow banshees, Jesus came to love the sinners and lead them to his Father's arms, not to pat the backs of anyone who can point and say, "You sin!"
So happy Easter all you adventurers out there. The real reason behind this holiday is to remember that we as Christians serve a living God, not one still lying in a hole somewhere rotting. The chocolate bunnies are just a bonus.
Currently Writing: Zero Point One outline
Currently listening to: "Glorious Day" by Casting Crowns
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Old Tech
I like collecting old cameras. I've got a few at the moment and am constantly on the lookout for anything that looks antique and different.
The one on the left is actually an old film camera. The middle one is an old school Kodak and then the Pentax is what I used for my dark room photography class. Whether the two on the left work or not, I love having them, even if all they do is sit on a shelf and occasionally I take them off and play with them. Of course by "play with" I mean fiddle with, open a few times, take a couple pictures of, and then ultimately put them back on the shelf.
Though, if I had the ability to develop the film myself, "play with" would mean "run amuck and take lots of random pictures just to see how they turn out". Ever since my dad opened the film camera I've wanted to find the film and record something. I think it'd be awesome!
Anything antique immediately grabs my attention. I couldn't say why, I just get fascinated by how things used to look and operate before now. Especially with things like cameras. Computers have just gotten less clunky and cars have just gotten strange (look at the Kia Soul for crying out loud. It's a box. An ugly box that needs hamsters to advertise). Cameras though have gone through a plethora of changes over the years. With their accordion folding lenses to SLRs to point-and-shoot...the designs have been extraordinarily different as time has gone on.
Which is why I like collecting them. The other day I found a bunch of cameras (including an old Polaroid to boot!), in a silent auction. I probably won't win, but it was awesome to just stand there and look at them all. When I put in the bid, my brother asked me what I would pay and I said to him, "Well, you gotta remember, all I'm gonna do is have them sit on a shelf."
This hobby may wind up being nothing more than an expensive way of decorating.
Happy adventures everyone! In PA we're gonna be in the fifties for the rest of the week. You know what that means - archery time. My arms are gonna kill after this week!
Currently Writing: Zero Point One outline
Currently Listening to: "Hear You Me" by Michael Henry and Justin Robinett
Though, if I had the ability to develop the film myself, "play with" would mean "run amuck and take lots of random pictures just to see how they turn out". Ever since my dad opened the film camera I've wanted to find the film and record something. I think it'd be awesome!
Anything antique immediately grabs my attention. I couldn't say why, I just get fascinated by how things used to look and operate before now. Especially with things like cameras. Computers have just gotten less clunky and cars have just gotten strange (look at the Kia Soul for crying out loud. It's a box. An ugly box that needs hamsters to advertise). Cameras though have gone through a plethora of changes over the years. With their accordion folding lenses to SLRs to point-and-shoot...the designs have been extraordinarily different as time has gone on.
Which is why I like collecting them. The other day I found a bunch of cameras (including an old Polaroid to boot!), in a silent auction. I probably won't win, but it was awesome to just stand there and look at them all. When I put in the bid, my brother asked me what I would pay and I said to him, "Well, you gotta remember, all I'm gonna do is have them sit on a shelf."
This hobby may wind up being nothing more than an expensive way of decorating.
Happy adventures everyone! In PA we're gonna be in the fifties for the rest of the week. You know what that means - archery time. My arms are gonna kill after this week!
Currently Writing: Zero Point One outline
Currently Listening to: "Hear You Me" by Michael Henry and Justin Robinett
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Ultimately, Everything Comes Back To One Thing
I got a new laptop. I named it Aliquis (yes, I name my technology), after a character in the End Game series 'cause its colors match that character. Then I got a wireless mouse. Normally I don't name those, but when I found the white & red one, I knew I had to get it, simply 'cause it reminded me of Blaze.
So, everything comes back to my books. Always.
Though I haven't done much writing as of late (eesh. April is gonna be a tricky month to roll into), I still can't fully detach my brain from my characters and their stories. Granted, I haven't devoted quite as much time to them as I have in the past, but in the end, they're still a huge part of me. As evidenced by names for technology and choices of wireless mice. (Speaking of mice, check out this shirt I want on Woot.)
I imagine that this is how most writers are. In spite of whatever efforts we may make - whether conscious or otherwise - to distance ourselves from a story, we inevitably wind up right back in the thick of it. Our stories and characters become as real to us as reality is to everyone else. I like to think that's why so many writers have trouble focusing. We're a little busy getting lost in a world that, for the moment, only we see.
It'll be fun when the rest of the world sees that world too.
I finished my query and am waiting on feedback from some friends. Then I'm editing it again and letting my family tear it apart. Then I'm editing it again and letting some coworkers look at it. Then I'm sending it off to agents. For all I know, I'll have an editor by summer. Wouldn't that be strangely awesome.
By the way, Camp Nano is only nine days away. NINE DAYS. WHAT.
Adventure well everyone! We have near fifty degree weather this weekend, so I anticipate some archery will be occurring at my house. I'm excited. I'm also gonna go old camera hunting at thrift stores tomorrow. I'll explain that in the next post.
Currently Writing: Zero Point One Outline
Currently Listening to: "Language" by Porter Robinson
So, everything comes back to my books. Always.
Though I haven't done much writing as of late (eesh. April is gonna be a tricky month to roll into), I still can't fully detach my brain from my characters and their stories. Granted, I haven't devoted quite as much time to them as I have in the past, but in the end, they're still a huge part of me. As evidenced by names for technology and choices of wireless mice. (Speaking of mice, check out this shirt I want on Woot.)
I imagine that this is how most writers are. In spite of whatever efforts we may make - whether conscious or otherwise - to distance ourselves from a story, we inevitably wind up right back in the thick of it. Our stories and characters become as real to us as reality is to everyone else. I like to think that's why so many writers have trouble focusing. We're a little busy getting lost in a world that, for the moment, only we see.
It'll be fun when the rest of the world sees that world too.
I finished my query and am waiting on feedback from some friends. Then I'm editing it again and letting my family tear it apart. Then I'm editing it again and letting some coworkers look at it. Then I'm sending it off to agents. For all I know, I'll have an editor by summer. Wouldn't that be strangely awesome.
By the way, Camp Nano is only nine days away. NINE DAYS. WHAT.
Adventure well everyone! We have near fifty degree weather this weekend, so I anticipate some archery will be occurring at my house. I'm excited. I'm also gonna go old camera hunting at thrift stores tomorrow. I'll explain that in the next post.
Currently Writing: Zero Point One Outline
Currently Listening to: "Language" by Porter Robinson
Monday, March 18, 2013
Other Protagonist
I've always had this secondary protagonist with the End Game thread. He was one of the first characters that I had, and he's always been one that I've been drawn to. His personality seems rather expected - the one that everyone sort of falls into line with. The one that you want to win in case our main protagonist doesn't make it.
You count on this secondary protagonist to stick it through and you count on them to never really deviate from who they are. Sure, they'll make mistakes - at least you hope they do, 'cause otherwise they aren't very believable. But on the whole, you imagine they're who they are, and that's just the way that it is. At least, that's how I've always felt about this one character.
Then this past summer, my brother and I were driving to Ocean City, and we began talking about this character in particular. My brother, being my biggest supporter and main soundboard for all things End Game, delves into my characters and ensures that they're as real as possible. I appreciate this about my brother.
Well, we both decided that at some point, my character in question did something that really changed him. Neither of us knew what it might have been. It might not have even been a bad thing; it just really jarred my secondary protagonist to the point of - most likely - a major change in his personality. Then I purposefully stayed away from finding that out, 'cause I got this feeling that it was going to completely change my image of this character.
The stalling stopped last weekend when I finally said, "Alright, what did you do?" (Just so you non-writers out there know, when I suddenly ask these questions, I really sort of ask myself in the manner of, "Alright, what did this character do, and how bad was it?" I then start thinking and usually, I'll find one random image in my mind and start following it. Next thing I know, I've got a story brewing.)
Now here I am, unpacking my secondary protagonists' history and finding a lot of nitty-gritty. I'm not terribly shocked. I always knew there was something hiding behind him, I had just never tried to figure it out. I always liked him the way he was and I didn't want him to change. I wanted him to always be who he was. That's the thing about writing believable characters - they've gotta change. No matter how much we may like one specific point of who they are, we can't keep them that way. It's in their changes and in their crisis that we see "real" moments for very fictional characters.
So I'll keep unpacking and, hopefully, by April 1st, I'll have enough to start really writing this nitty-gritty story for ZPO.
Adventure well everyone. Here in PA we got a glimpse of spring last week. Yesterday it snowed and tomorrow it's supposed to snow again. Yeah, welcome to winter/spring in my neck of the woods. It's like an identity crisis every day.
Currently Writing: Zero Point One
Currently Listening to: "Here You Me" by Justin Robinett & Michael Henry
You count on this secondary protagonist to stick it through and you count on them to never really deviate from who they are. Sure, they'll make mistakes - at least you hope they do, 'cause otherwise they aren't very believable. But on the whole, you imagine they're who they are, and that's just the way that it is. At least, that's how I've always felt about this one character.
Then this past summer, my brother and I were driving to Ocean City, and we began talking about this character in particular. My brother, being my biggest supporter and main soundboard for all things End Game, delves into my characters and ensures that they're as real as possible. I appreciate this about my brother.
Well, we both decided that at some point, my character in question did something that really changed him. Neither of us knew what it might have been. It might not have even been a bad thing; it just really jarred my secondary protagonist to the point of - most likely - a major change in his personality. Then I purposefully stayed away from finding that out, 'cause I got this feeling that it was going to completely change my image of this character.
The stalling stopped last weekend when I finally said, "Alright, what did you do?" (Just so you non-writers out there know, when I suddenly ask these questions, I really sort of ask myself in the manner of, "Alright, what did this character do, and how bad was it?" I then start thinking and usually, I'll find one random image in my mind and start following it. Next thing I know, I've got a story brewing.)
Now here I am, unpacking my secondary protagonists' history and finding a lot of nitty-gritty. I'm not terribly shocked. I always knew there was something hiding behind him, I had just never tried to figure it out. I always liked him the way he was and I didn't want him to change. I wanted him to always be who he was. That's the thing about writing believable characters - they've gotta change. No matter how much we may like one specific point of who they are, we can't keep them that way. It's in their changes and in their crisis that we see "real" moments for very fictional characters.
So I'll keep unpacking and, hopefully, by April 1st, I'll have enough to start really writing this nitty-gritty story for ZPO.
Adventure well everyone. Here in PA we got a glimpse of spring last week. Yesterday it snowed and tomorrow it's supposed to snow again. Yeah, welcome to winter/spring in my neck of the woods. It's like an identity crisis every day.
Currently Writing: Zero Point One
Currently Listening to: "Here You Me" by Justin Robinett & Michael Henry
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Cursed
Yesterday, one of my coworkers wound up venting to me out of the blue about some frustrations he was experiencing. I listened as best I could and offered advice when he asked for it, but on the whole, I just tried my best to be compassionate and loving. After a good twenty minutes of him nearly yelling at me because of how angry he was, he let out a deep breath and said, "Thank you. I feel better."
"Anytime," I told him.
Shaking his head, he said, "No, I mean it. You're one of the few people I know that I can just vent at and you listen and you care."
"I don't know how not to care," I said.
"How dare you be cursed with a caring heart," he said with a grin.
It's a phrase that I've mulled over for the past day. Interesting way to put it, I thought. But I know what he means. In today's world, it's so easy to get sucked into this "me-centric" society we find ourselves a part of. For many people, blinders are the only way they go through life - with this blatant disregard for everyone and everything around them. I can't imagine seeing the world that way. I can't imagine not caring about other people.
I guess a curse is a good way to put it though. I never see it as such, but I can totally understand how someone might want to call it that. I mean, I've made three cakes and a cheesecake in the past month for my coworkers - whether for birthdays or otherwise. When my parents have given me this look of, "Really? You're doing this again?", I've tried to brush it off. To me, it's a great way to show compassion. And I love baking. That definitely doesn't hurt. But as I sit back and remove my mentality from the picture, I must look absurd to some people.
Really? Four cakes in the span of a month? What's wrong with that person? Do they have any idea how much money that is? How much time that is?
Funny thing is, I do know how much money it is and I do understand how much time it takes. And those two things are so trivial and so fleeting that I could care less how much of both of those things I need to sacrifice. If it makes one of my friends or coworkers or even a random stranger happy, then whatever might have been given in the process is entirely and fully worth it. I'm not here for fame or money or power or glory. I'm here to show love. It's the only thing that comes naturally to me.
Random post for tonight. Once I get Word installed on my laptop, I'm gonna hammer out another chunk of ZPO and I'm sure I'll have a boatload of writing bits to talk about when that happens.
Only a few more weeks till Camp Nano. I'm freaking out!
Currently Writing: Zero Point One
Currently Listening to: "Sleep" by Polyphony and Stephen Layton
"Anytime," I told him.
Shaking his head, he said, "No, I mean it. You're one of the few people I know that I can just vent at and you listen and you care."
"I don't know how not to care," I said.
"How dare you be cursed with a caring heart," he said with a grin.
It's a phrase that I've mulled over for the past day. Interesting way to put it, I thought. But I know what he means. In today's world, it's so easy to get sucked into this "me-centric" society we find ourselves a part of. For many people, blinders are the only way they go through life - with this blatant disregard for everyone and everything around them. I can't imagine seeing the world that way. I can't imagine not caring about other people.
I guess a curse is a good way to put it though. I never see it as such, but I can totally understand how someone might want to call it that. I mean, I've made three cakes and a cheesecake in the past month for my coworkers - whether for birthdays or otherwise. When my parents have given me this look of, "Really? You're doing this again?", I've tried to brush it off. To me, it's a great way to show compassion. And I love baking. That definitely doesn't hurt. But as I sit back and remove my mentality from the picture, I must look absurd to some people.
Really? Four cakes in the span of a month? What's wrong with that person? Do they have any idea how much money that is? How much time that is?
Funny thing is, I do know how much money it is and I do understand how much time it takes. And those two things are so trivial and so fleeting that I could care less how much of both of those things I need to sacrifice. If it makes one of my friends or coworkers or even a random stranger happy, then whatever might have been given in the process is entirely and fully worth it. I'm not here for fame or money or power or glory. I'm here to show love. It's the only thing that comes naturally to me.
Random post for tonight. Once I get Word installed on my laptop, I'm gonna hammer out another chunk of ZPO and I'm sure I'll have a boatload of writing bits to talk about when that happens.
Only a few more weeks till Camp Nano. I'm freaking out!
Currently Writing: Zero Point One
Currently Listening to: "Sleep" by Polyphony and Stephen Layton
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Sometimes Five Hours of Sleep is Enough
Writing the ancient world of my books has been an interesting dilemma.
The other day I was attempting to hammer away at a chunk of ZP, all of which was literally the beginning of the world of Tilion, and I struggled to get the images in my head to coherently make their way to the page. After two hours to meagerly writing and coming up with nothing I was proud of, I sat back and stared at my computer screen. Arms crossed over my chest, I shook my head as I read what I had written. How could I literally shove five books out of my head in one year with perfect clarity and relative success as to continuity, but I couldn't finish one story about character's histories or about the ancient world of Tilion?
Then it hit me.
Remember, Susan, you spent five years planning out the End Game thread. (That's me talking to myself, in case you didn't catch it.) Five years. That isn't a trivial thing. In taking that much time to think (a lot of which was random car rides between school and home), I had figured out most of the story line and the major plot points. Sure, million of minute details still needed to be fleshed out, but on the whole, I was ready to go whenever my stubbornness was overcome.
Now that all of that is out of the way and I'm beginning to delve into histories (and possibly futures?) of my characters, no wonder it's taking longer. I haven't spent much time thinking.
Thinking is crucial for me when it comes to story creation. This past weekend, I got to visit a friend in Upstate New York. That five and a half hour trip was more beneficial than I could have imagined. Sitting in a car leaves me with little to do but think and imagine and dream. I follow random tendrils of ideas and explore avenues. I imagine "movie trailers" of each story. It sounds absurd, but that helps me get key images down in my mind. Sometimes I'll put a song on repeat if a specific image comes to mind, simply so it can be solidified in my head.
So I thought. A lot. I delved into characters I haven't fully explored before and began to pull at their nitty-gritty details. That's hard to do sometimes, especially when the character in question's history holds something you don't expect. By the time I got home, I was excited and ready to tackle the next story in the histories. Eventually though, I really would like to finish Arthur. That book being half done really kind of bothers me.
In other news, I've got another stand-alone story idea. This is a new concept for me. So I've written the basic idea down and maybe, when I'm ready to create a new world, I'll explore that avenue. I'm fairly certain that that desire isn't going to pop up any time soon. I've got enough to explore for the time being.
I'm exhausted, but that's what coffee's for.
Adventure well everyone! It's warm(ish) in PA right now, so I'm gonna take advantage of it and shoot some arrows into targets.
Currently Writing: Zero Point One
Currently Listening to: "Language" by Porter Robinson
P.S. - For the sake of Camp Nano, I've decided to chop ZP into four(?) books, each containing three character histories. Eventually, I'll shove them all together and it'll be a massive book of epic proportions that no one but myself and my crazy friends will want to read.
The other day I was attempting to hammer away at a chunk of ZP, all of which was literally the beginning of the world of Tilion, and I struggled to get the images in my head to coherently make their way to the page. After two hours to meagerly writing and coming up with nothing I was proud of, I sat back and stared at my computer screen. Arms crossed over my chest, I shook my head as I read what I had written. How could I literally shove five books out of my head in one year with perfect clarity and relative success as to continuity, but I couldn't finish one story about character's histories or about the ancient world of Tilion?
Then it hit me.
Remember, Susan, you spent five years planning out the End Game thread. (That's me talking to myself, in case you didn't catch it.) Five years. That isn't a trivial thing. In taking that much time to think (a lot of which was random car rides between school and home), I had figured out most of the story line and the major plot points. Sure, million of minute details still needed to be fleshed out, but on the whole, I was ready to go whenever my stubbornness was overcome.
Now that all of that is out of the way and I'm beginning to delve into histories (and possibly futures?) of my characters, no wonder it's taking longer. I haven't spent much time thinking.
Thinking is crucial for me when it comes to story creation. This past weekend, I got to visit a friend in Upstate New York. That five and a half hour trip was more beneficial than I could have imagined. Sitting in a car leaves me with little to do but think and imagine and dream. I follow random tendrils of ideas and explore avenues. I imagine "movie trailers" of each story. It sounds absurd, but that helps me get key images down in my mind. Sometimes I'll put a song on repeat if a specific image comes to mind, simply so it can be solidified in my head.
So I thought. A lot. I delved into characters I haven't fully explored before and began to pull at their nitty-gritty details. That's hard to do sometimes, especially when the character in question's history holds something you don't expect. By the time I got home, I was excited and ready to tackle the next story in the histories. Eventually though, I really would like to finish Arthur. That book being half done really kind of bothers me.
In other news, I've got another stand-alone story idea. This is a new concept for me. So I've written the basic idea down and maybe, when I'm ready to create a new world, I'll explore that avenue. I'm fairly certain that that desire isn't going to pop up any time soon. I've got enough to explore for the time being.
I'm exhausted, but that's what coffee's for.
Adventure well everyone! It's warm(ish) in PA right now, so I'm gonna take advantage of it and shoot some arrows into targets.
Currently Writing: Zero Point One
Currently Listening to: "Language" by Porter Robinson
P.S. - For the sake of Camp Nano, I've decided to chop ZP into four(?) books, each containing three character histories. Eventually, I'll shove them all together and it'll be a massive book of epic proportions that no one but myself and my crazy friends will want to read.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Ten Things
I'm gonna take a moment to tell you random little things about myself that not everyone knows. Those that do know these things find them odd and tend to laugh at me about them. I don't rightly care.
1. I eat M&M's by color and assemble each color group into a triangle, eating them one at a time, starting at the top. It bothers me when I can't eat them like that.
2. I love the smell of gasoline, bleach, freshly cut grass, and firewood.
3. I hate touchpads on laptops. I find them jumpy & skittery and though it's nothing life threatening, I detest using them.
4. Though I'm twenty-four and do like looking my age via my clothing, I love graphic t-shirts. Whether they display an image or a phrase, I love 'em. The feel, the look, everything about them. I could wear a knit sweater that's comfortable, but the moment I feel like I'm not doing anything "important" (aka, going out to do stuff), I change into a t-shirt.
5. It angers me when my cash isn't all facing the same direction. I will literally stop whatever I'm doing sometimes at work and organize the bills in my drawer. What way do I like them? Face up, with the top of the bill to the right. My mom always said I would make a great bank teller. I even fix bills in friend's wallets, simply 'cause it'll rub against my mind all day until I do something about it.
6. Whenever I find a penny on the ground, I don't pick it up. If it's face up, I leave it alone. If it's face down, I'll flip it over and then leave it behind. Some people are superstitious about stuff like that and think heads-up pennies are good luck. I'll take the bad luck for someone else if it means it'll make their day a little better.
7. I love seeing random acts of kindness. Those times when you act and you think no one is looking or listening and you do something simply out of the kindness of your heart. I love those moments. I think they should be reinforced and reiterated a thousand times. Because the small things matter, even if you don't think so.
8. Talking about myself has never been my strong suit. I'm far more comfortable sitting and listening to someone for hours - yes, hours - and never saying a single thing. I'm perfectly content with sitting back and listening to a great storyteller, even if they're only telling me about their day. Some people have this great gift for telling tales by adding sound effects, side commentary, and emphasizing things in just the right way that you're sucked into whatever they're saying. And when you think back on the conversation, you realize all they talked about was doing their laundry. I love those kinds of people. I think they're born storytellers, and I always want to record them, thinking that what I'm hearing isn't just some boring, run-of-the-mill tale, but a grand adventure.
9. My favorite number is 5, second only to the number 9. I don't know why I like those numbers, I just do. If I had to guess, it's because 5 is right in the middle of nearly everything (think of a number between 1 and 10 sort of stuff), and 9, though a high-roller, isn't nearly as obnoxious as 10, which thinks itself so important as to require a second digit. 9, I think, is a number perfectly content with itself and 5 is a-okay with being stuck in the middle.
10. I've always wanted to fly. And I don't mean Superman fly - that's the boring way to go about it. I mean with feathered wings. For as long as I can remember, I've always had this strong desire to take off and fly away. To feel the air glide through the soft feathers of my wings, to dart through a cloud, to skim a still lake and run my hand across the water. To escape the monotony of life and become something extraordinary. Whenever I see a beautiful sunset, I almost immediately think, "I need a camera and I need wings, pronto." To rise above - literally - and see the world in a whole new way. I think that's why I gave Jen wings. 'Cause if I couldn't have them, well, then I needed to write about someone who did.
For those interested, Camp Nano is coming back in April. Anyone gonna join me? I'm gonna use it as an excuse to really kick things into gear with Zero Point and hammer out at least three more stories from that.
Adventure well, brave warriors.
Currently Writing: Zero Point
Currently Listening to: THIS. On repeat. I seriously lol every time this comes on the radio now.
1. I eat M&M's by color and assemble each color group into a triangle, eating them one at a time, starting at the top. It bothers me when I can't eat them like that.
2. I love the smell of gasoline, bleach, freshly cut grass, and firewood.
3. I hate touchpads on laptops. I find them jumpy & skittery and though it's nothing life threatening, I detest using them.
4. Though I'm twenty-four and do like looking my age via my clothing, I love graphic t-shirts. Whether they display an image or a phrase, I love 'em. The feel, the look, everything about them. I could wear a knit sweater that's comfortable, but the moment I feel like I'm not doing anything "important" (aka, going out to do stuff), I change into a t-shirt.
5. It angers me when my cash isn't all facing the same direction. I will literally stop whatever I'm doing sometimes at work and organize the bills in my drawer. What way do I like them? Face up, with the top of the bill to the right. My mom always said I would make a great bank teller. I even fix bills in friend's wallets, simply 'cause it'll rub against my mind all day until I do something about it.
6. Whenever I find a penny on the ground, I don't pick it up. If it's face up, I leave it alone. If it's face down, I'll flip it over and then leave it behind. Some people are superstitious about stuff like that and think heads-up pennies are good luck. I'll take the bad luck for someone else if it means it'll make their day a little better.
7. I love seeing random acts of kindness. Those times when you act and you think no one is looking or listening and you do something simply out of the kindness of your heart. I love those moments. I think they should be reinforced and reiterated a thousand times. Because the small things matter, even if you don't think so.
8. Talking about myself has never been my strong suit. I'm far more comfortable sitting and listening to someone for hours - yes, hours - and never saying a single thing. I'm perfectly content with sitting back and listening to a great storyteller, even if they're only telling me about their day. Some people have this great gift for telling tales by adding sound effects, side commentary, and emphasizing things in just the right way that you're sucked into whatever they're saying. And when you think back on the conversation, you realize all they talked about was doing their laundry. I love those kinds of people. I think they're born storytellers, and I always want to record them, thinking that what I'm hearing isn't just some boring, run-of-the-mill tale, but a grand adventure.
9. My favorite number is 5, second only to the number 9. I don't know why I like those numbers, I just do. If I had to guess, it's because 5 is right in the middle of nearly everything (think of a number between 1 and 10 sort of stuff), and 9, though a high-roller, isn't nearly as obnoxious as 10, which thinks itself so important as to require a second digit. 9, I think, is a number perfectly content with itself and 5 is a-okay with being stuck in the middle.
10. I've always wanted to fly. And I don't mean Superman fly - that's the boring way to go about it. I mean with feathered wings. For as long as I can remember, I've always had this strong desire to take off and fly away. To feel the air glide through the soft feathers of my wings, to dart through a cloud, to skim a still lake and run my hand across the water. To escape the monotony of life and become something extraordinary. Whenever I see a beautiful sunset, I almost immediately think, "I need a camera and I need wings, pronto." To rise above - literally - and see the world in a whole new way. I think that's why I gave Jen wings. 'Cause if I couldn't have them, well, then I needed to write about someone who did.
For those interested, Camp Nano is coming back in April. Anyone gonna join me? I'm gonna use it as an excuse to really kick things into gear with Zero Point and hammer out at least three more stories from that.
Adventure well, brave warriors.
Currently Writing: Zero Point
Currently Listening to: THIS. On repeat. I seriously lol every time this comes on the radio now.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Stunted
Ever feel like you just stepped backwards? And I don't mean by like, one step. I mean more like eight years.
I guess the word "oppressed" is right, even though it sounds so horribly wrong. Never have I ever wanted to feel that a word so strong as that should describe how I feel about home. I guess I want to be an adult. I want to grow up and move on and move out. I'm sick of feeling stuck and trapped.
So how do I change that? The problem is, I like the people I work with. I don't want to get a new job because I'd miss hanging out with them. But, I know I can't stay where I am. Not financially. It sucks, I hate saying that, but I think it's what needs to be done. If I could make more money, then I could move out and get my own place and, for once, I could feel like I wasn't a child anymore.
It drives me mad that I don't have my own place. Most days it doesn't bother me, but then there are days like today, where I just kind of want to scream and run away and never come back until I have my own place and can look my parents in the eyes and say, "I'm fine. I've got this. You don't need to see me as twelve anymore."
Maybe that's what it'll take.
Random angry post tonight. Shouldn't be, seeing as the rest of my day was a great adventure. Well, here's hoping that you have a grand adventure tonight. Or tomorrow. Whenever it is for you.
Currently Writing: Zero Point
Currently Listening to: "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap
I guess the word "oppressed" is right, even though it sounds so horribly wrong. Never have I ever wanted to feel that a word so strong as that should describe how I feel about home. I guess I want to be an adult. I want to grow up and move on and move out. I'm sick of feeling stuck and trapped.
So how do I change that? The problem is, I like the people I work with. I don't want to get a new job because I'd miss hanging out with them. But, I know I can't stay where I am. Not financially. It sucks, I hate saying that, but I think it's what needs to be done. If I could make more money, then I could move out and get my own place and, for once, I could feel like I wasn't a child anymore.
It drives me mad that I don't have my own place. Most days it doesn't bother me, but then there are days like today, where I just kind of want to scream and run away and never come back until I have my own place and can look my parents in the eyes and say, "I'm fine. I've got this. You don't need to see me as twelve anymore."
Maybe that's what it'll take.
Random angry post tonight. Shouldn't be, seeing as the rest of my day was a great adventure. Well, here's hoping that you have a grand adventure tonight. Or tomorrow. Whenever it is for you.
Currently Writing: Zero Point
Currently Listening to: "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap
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