Sunday, April 25, 2010

I have a lot of things to do tomorrow, so I'm distracting myself from thinking about it at the moment through this entry

I write, on occasion. I do not write well or anything, as my posts show. But I love writing, love stories... I love it even more when I can share them with other people, when I write stories with another person. It gives me the sense of a deadline.

There is a sort of a theme throughout my work, actually several small themes, and I do not know what they say about me. Here are some of my preferred topics:

-bisexual boys
-girls with short hair
-dyed hair
-foreign languages
-life/relationship-related emotional/physical damage
-commitment issues
-people living very close to the poverty line
-girls with the name Amber
-love/hate relationships
-preschool teachers
-sarcastic characters with snippy wit
-ridiculously laid-back characters who are impossible to insult and by that nature, infuriating
-a physical handicap of some kind, possibly caused by an accident: amputee, eye missing, blindness, deafness--all examples of stuff I've written about
-straight boys finding their 'exception' while drunk

On a deeper level, I absolutely adore seeing the whole 'humanity in depravity' concept. Or that people can't always be judged by their actions, and even if they take it up the ass for money they might still be good people. Or thinking you are a good person and yet almost able to sit back and watch as you make bad decisions and betray the people you care about. Set your story in a ghetto, make times hard, and see how that changes preconceptions about morals and values. You can do unto others, or you can starve.

Character flaws are awesome. They give you so much to work with. You can make a character better, or you can make them fall deeper. You can't do anything with a perfect character. You might not make your readers sympathetic with this person, but you certainly aren't going to bore them. Maybe on some level they can relate. Nobody's perfect, which is why I love people. Even if the readers are not coke whores crying in an alley, maybe they can find a shred of empathy for the creature experiencing a more intense version of the same self-loathing they might encounter every day. They might not have alcoholism, but the character is so very real that they worry for their addiction, like one might worry for a friend.

In addition, nothing gives me a writing boner more than overcoming all odds with the minimum resources. I was playing a fantasy roleplay, where my character was a human in a strange land. The other person wanted to give me powers so my character wouldn't be so lost and confused. I replied, are you kidding? That sounds intensely interesting. Figuring out how she copes, how her wits keep her world together--that is what keeps this story intriguing.

A romance based on something other than looks? Sign me up. My kink is two people overcoming rivalry. I want people who hated each other to slowly fall in love. I want loud fights devolving into mutual understandings. I want drunken hate kisses, I want angry confessions, I want thrown punches and grown-man pouting sessions and make-up sex and covert glances and insecure musing. Hate to dislike to grudging respect to mutual affection, oof, I just got tingles up my spine.

And okay I've been writing a LOT of homosexual erotica. Um suck it, I like guy romances better than heterosexual ones. Just because of male dynamics, really, and yeah, maybe I write gay romances with like... MEN instead of boys. Maybe a few of my main characters would call stuff 'gay' because they have to prove to the world they have a penis. Guys who are hilariously emotionally retarded at times make me all warm on the inside.

Lastly, I would like to say that while many of the things I've listed here sound slightly morbid and angry, well. I love humor. I like laughing, and making other people laugh, if this was not made obvious by this blog.

I would say I like my humor like I like my coffee, or chocolate, and follow that up with a deep voiced "dark" and follow THAT up with a drawn-out "lllllladies"; but I take my coffee with cream and my chocolate with milk. SO. Unbeknownst to you, that would have been lying. You're welcome. Apparently 'unbeknownst' is not a word. Well it's my word now.

What I do hate about writing? Conclusions. Suck it.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

It has judging eyes. Minus one star.

I was going to write something about my voice and how I sound like a squeaky Death, but then my mom came out of nowhere and said, "I got you a present!" I like presents, so I held out my hands and closed my eyes. A box was pressed into my grabby hands.

I got this.


In looking for the link to show people my "what" I also noticed reviews and wanted to write my own. This is what I put up:
My mom saw me recently and gave me this. I don't know why. I graduated college with a BS in Biology. Maybe she thinks I'm a stoner? Or mentally impaired/easily amused? Either way, I feel compelled to rate it, so maybe she wasn't too far off on any count.

At first glance it weirds me out. Dude, the remote has EYES. Maybe if I were under the recommended maximum age of three this wouldn't be so bad, but since I'm 22 I feel the thing is judging me. "Put me down and go get a real job!" Shut up, giggle remote. I HAVE a real job. You don't even KNOW me.

The pictures on the buttons are cash, though. There's my fav, the cookie monster, or whatever they've done with my furry fatty recently (probably went vegan at this point). It turns out when you press the buttons, you can alternate between Elmo saying the numbers and whatever sound the picture would make. For the characters, it changes quite a bit, which is nice. I was wondering what a soccer ball would say. Apparently soccer balls are cartoon springs now. It's not what they sounded like when I played soccer back in the day. Whatever, I learned the number eight. Score! (Other criticisms: The yellow dude of the Bert and Ernie duo only gets one phrase, which is a ripoff. The cookie monster says something I can't make out, but it could be cursing. Good things: the number zero is ALL ELMO. Enjoy.)

I thought the volume and channel buttons wouldn't do anything interesting. THEY ACTUALLY CONTROL THE VOLUME AND CHANNEL. Please tell me you also think this is cool. I guess a parent could turn the volume of the toy down before handing it to a kid, but it kind of defeats the purpose when you put the volume control right back into the kid's hands. I would recommend just taking the batteries out. Or turning it to 'off' but again, totally not the point. If you don't want your children's toys making noises, buy them Play-Doh. (Hint: make it non-toxic. THEY EAT EVERYTHING AT THAT STAGE.)

So this kept me distracted for very nearly 2 minutes, but my attention span is much shorter than that of your average 3 year old. I'm trying to find a way to close the eyes forever. The toy did freak out the cat a little but it's a small price to pay for quality entertainment.

Guess this will teach me to visit home anytime soon.

I doubt that will even make it to the page.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

I was adorable. Promise.

I've noticed 'bad day' is one of my most used tags, so I'm adding something to balance it out:

My childhood.

I was an adorable child. I have a journal from when I was in the fourth grade, thereabouts, that has the direct quote "If I were a giant, I would step on people. I would love to hear them scream!" With a drawing to match my statement.

Lately, Mom dug up a picture I had drawn of two cats, a mom cat and a baby cat, looking at a nice picture of a flower with a moth on it, next to a hummingbird. On the back of this picture is a story. I will recreate it exactly (I've double checked, and all the typos are intentional). Italics are where it's also underlined.

The whole story

Hello, I'm Nate Stasi. I'm a strreet cat.

Today I'm going on my first hunting trip.

All I could do is catch moths. It's really hard. First you creep up on your victim, then you pounce.

The first thing I saw on my hunting trip is a humming bird. My mom said I should pounce on the humming bird, but I saw a moth on the flower, and I pounced on it. But, the humming bird was right next to the flower, so I smushed his wings. He couldn't fly. My mom picked up the humming and killed it. We had humming bird stew.

By [ K ]. Illastrated by [ K ].

...apparently this was a Mother's day gift. She loves it. (Name edited out to protect what was once my innocence.)

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Do I have to have a sexuality? Can't I just be sexual?

So in all honestly, when I spewed this word vomit onto my keyboard I was kinda emo about being stood up for a date that might've made me question my sexuality but I wasn't in danger so I just deleted that shit and I want to replace it with this:

When it comes down to it, after so many drinks, gender is just a number.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

One vodka tonic, hold the medication

I think I just had my first panic attack.

Or, rather, anxiety attack mixed with panic mixed with 'get me the fuck out of here.' I've had anxiety attacks before due to my medication. When I started taking atenolol I felt randomly like I was being choked and got short of breath. I also had the strangest nightmares, but that's neither here nor there.

But today in sign language, I just felt the overwhelming urge to cry. Like, hyperventilate, freak out, leave, go sob myself into a little ball of self-loathing for no apparent reason. It was close. I stared at my desk and hated that the class made everybody so visible to everybody else.

I... am really good at hiding it. My emotions, my feeling. Like, A+ actor. All I needed was to use that 10 minute break to hyperventilate around the corner and sob a little and I was good until the end of class. Then, repeat.

Seriously, there is a beautiful little cove around the way from that class that's pretty much totally closed off right now due to construction, and it has a running fountain and privacy and. Now my favorite hyperventilating spot.

I don't know if this is hormones. I think it's that class. Why? Because we were supposed to get into groups and do group projects. I haven't. I have no idea why I'm suddenly too shy to ask people if I can hang out with them to do the projects, but I literally freeze up and 'forget' and... I've already missed turning in one lab report, in danger of missing two and a questions paper. There is absolutely no reason for me to be afraid of these people. For one, I'm social. I hang out with people. I love company and talking. I have several of these individual's phone numbers.

The only thing stopping me is this paranoid little feeling that although they are my friends, they are MORE each other's friends. That although I am included, I am also excluded in a very fundamental way.


Unlike the title suggests, I am not curing my problems with alcohol. No worries. It's just weird for me to be anxious about anything social. I typically just jump right in and start talking about dead baby jokes and nipples.

I just need to figure this out before I settle for a C in sign class because I can't do any group assignments.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

I am NOT a dog person

Dogs have not gotten this memo.

I agreed to house/petsit for a family friend, because although he's a dumbass and lost me over 200 grand (I wish I was kidding) he did do a lot in the process.

Yet this is making me bitter.

I have to get up at 5:30 am so I can take care of his animals and get home in time to take a shower (thus catering to my OCD). I'm then going to work or school, and not coming home at all until 9:30 pm at the earliest (my classes get out at 8:45). After walking the dogs, feeding them, picking up poop, and making my own dinner, I am finally ready for bed at 11:30 pm.

At which point I have homework, as a full time student and part-time teacher.

And when I finally do get to sleep, the dogs either sit at the foot of my bed and lick their personals so loudly it wakes me up (I have slept through earthquakes, fire alarms, thunderstorms, and being kicked in the neck, so this is defs saying something) or stay outside and whine the whole night. They act like locking them out of my immediate presence is the equivalent of kicking a baby. And giving it AIDS.

Also, not a dog person. Did I mention this? They are loud, one of them is obsessed with licking me, and they both follow me around when I'm there like kibbles is going to shoot out my ass (incidentally, their dog food? SMELLS LIKE INFECTED ASS, and I have to dig around to get to the food at the bottom of a huge bag and I get the smell on my arm and then start hating my life). They are also bigger than me, and one likes jumping and gnawing on me when he's excited. Hint: apparently moving my arms is cause for excitement. Or, if I am being still, blinking does the trick.

I haven't slept properly in three days. I am NOT good with no sleep. I smell blood and get dizzy when I stand. This has 100% messed up my schedule and I've also missed taking my heart medication three days in a row. I will not remember posting this. The guy already knows that I'm never doing this again when he gets back, but I still have to last until Wednesday.

Over a week away.

Please kill me now. If I die in the house the slobbering monsters will eat my body and that's just not the way I saw myself going.