Oh, oh, oh boy, oh boys and girls!
It has been some time... Not that I am much in the business of keeping this thing constantly up-to-date these days. In fact, I often have to stop and think about why I continue to do this at all. There was a time when almost all of my closest friends were on here, so it made sense to saturate this thing with my thoughts and feelings. Now, not so much. The majority of my friends list is semi- to fully-abandoned journals. There are still a few of you out there (HELLO) but you are only a sliver of the people who I care to keep appraised about what I do, so babbling here seems an inefficient method of communication.
Still, I feel compelled to write here every so often. Why is that? I guess because it encourages verbosity, and verbosity is something which I am very much FOR and the emerging technology of our day seems to be very much AGAINST. (For example, MSN increasingly limits the word count for each message--why, I remember a day when I wrote novels on there, yet these days you can't even fit a paragraph! And then there's Facebook statuses, and don't even get me started on fucking Twitter... etcetera etcetera, kids these days, why I never, get off my lawn.)
So! Back to the good old days of verbosity. What has happened to me since... uh... November 16? Jesus.
-I did finish NaNoWriMo--with 36 hours to spare, even. It was even easier than the previous year, which seems odd.
In 2008, I had 12 hours of class a week, plus 16 hours at my part-time job, plus homework time (minus the fact that I was able to do a lot of homework and novel-writing while at work).
This year, I was working 40 hours a week, plus 6 hours a week of class, plus homework time (with absolutely no time to do anything but work at my job).
It's because of my theory of self-organization, which has been scientifically proven in 100% of individuals studied (i.e., myself):
The more my time is structured, the more I make my remaining time work for me. If I know I only have X amount of hours to write X amount of words today, there is more pressure on me to get it done, thus I will be more likely to do it. This is why I started getting better grades when I got a job, and why being unemployed makes me late to everything.
I am still writing the same story, and this year's NaNoWriMo was another part of that. The first part. I am finally at a stage now where the bare bones of the story are laid out and will not do too much more changing on a structural level (I think). Now it is time to fix the delicious, fleshy details.
The fact that I am studying editing as I do this is immeasurably helpful, and I think vice versa. The two processes play off each other quite nicely, and I find myself constantly borrowing knowledge from one to use with the other.
Last time I finished NaNoWriMo, I went on to post some out-of-context lines from what I'd written that I felt had appropriately captured what I wanted them to. It is a bit harder to do that this year, both because my dissatisfaction with my own writing increases with my ability to edit, and also because I've "tracked changes" all the fuck over it since then. Still, here are a few contextless bits that cut my jib in the appropriate fashion:
Torry is arguably the central character. The first part is largely about her, and I apparently have her much better figured out than many of the other characters, hence she appears in everything here...A telling run-on sentence about Torry:“Sort of,” Torry said with a grin. His face fell immediately. He knew exactly what that kind of grin meant, having grown up with it, used to seeing it at all the wrong times. It was Torry’s signature behaviour—-to do what she was asked, if only
sort of, while purposely missing the entire point of why she was asked to do it in the first place, then betraying that purpose with the ghost of a grin on one side of her face.sometimes I laugh at my own jokes and then hate myself for it afterward:“Oh, my God,” Seo said. “You're living with a homeless person?”
“Well, that would be impossible,” she said.Torry chats with her legal guardian, Pollok:“It's funny, Torrylin, that you talk about problematic definitions,” he said. “In your case, you seem to think that ‘convincing argument’ and ‘petty insult’ are one in the same.”
Torry assumed a shocked expression. “You mean they aren’t?” she said. “Gosh. I must be a lot less clever than I’ve always thought! ...Or a lot more petty,” she added with a grin.
“I assure you, it’s both,” Pollok said, kneading his temples.sometimes I like over-describing things:Torry found this so ridiculous that she could not help but laugh, and the laugh was so chock full of scorn and ridicule that she nearly winded herself on it. “Are you serious,” she gasped.for some reason this just tickles me:“Sorry about that,” Torry said. “He’s useless at meeting people without his hat on.”
Finally, just because I actually hurt my brain thinking about this while writing it (seriously which one of them makes more/less sense? I don't even know), London and Torry try to have a staring eye contest
:“You have an unfair advantage,” he said. “It’s not my fault you have twice the eyes I do.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t it be easier with one eye?” she said.
“How would it be easier? The eye-strain is spread out over a larger area for you.”
“Eye-strain--? No, but I have twice the chances to blink!”
“Now that really doesn’t make any sense. You don’t blink one eye at a time!”
And worth noting: I unconsciously quoted Louis C.K. not once, but twice within this part. Fantastic.
-My internship finished last week. This probably explains why I am suddenly taking the time to post again (as well as the reference to me being late to everything while unemployed--seriously, everything). I was sad to finish, and I feel genuine regret that I can't continue on with the projects that were just starting as I left. Still, it's good to take more time to concentrate on my creative projects for a while.
I seriously don't know how I'm going to balance that when (?) I make the transition to real adulthood (??). Nothing else in the world seems as real and important to me as working on my writing, yet it's not something that can support me. I'm certainly not confident enough in it at this juncture to think it will ever be published, let alone achieve financial success. AND YET, I dedicate whole days to it and feel fulfilled. Why?
I've yet to come up with a good answer. ALTHOUGH funnily enough, yesterday I wrote an exchange between two music-playing characters on this exact topic. But I failed to realize that I was totally talking to myself about my own issue until just this second. Jesus.
Just thinking about that is reason enough. I can put my garbled thoughts and feelings through my writer's mind and editorial eye and it comes out addressing problems that I didn't even realize I had when I started. What could be more beautiful?
I had no illusions about this internship leading to a job. I was in a small division with no conceivable room for a new employee, so I can't say I'm disappointed. One of the people I worked for told me that they would love to hire me if they had the money, so what more can I ask for? It's a huge validation, for sure. I still sometimes doubt that I've chosen the right career path, but that I can apparently do a good job at it, and enjoy working hard at it, is a good sign. I'd be content doing it for a while to come.
Right now I am just considering my options. Unfortunately they are rather limited in this industry at this moment. However, I'm not yet concerned. Thus far in my life, things have had a tendency to work out. I am a bit like Jerry Seinfeld in that respect (ALWAYS EVEN).
-Want to make fun of me a little? Sure you do.
I was at my parents' house with my companion this weekend. While there, I sent myself a bunch of essays I wrote in high school off an old computer. Two words: Oh god.
Actually, they are not too
bad. Mostly. There is one, however, that stands out in how horrid it is. It is my final essay for Theory of Knowledge class.
Some context: Theory of Knowledge was a "philosophy" class that we had to take as part of our IB diploma. It was taught by a drama teacher who was on the brink of retiring and couldn't give a shit about philosophy. (There was also a short while when it was taught by a philosophy student from York U who was an unabashed idiot.)
After dicking around all year, we had to write a big final paper for the class. We weren't really given any direction or help on this matter. The teacher claimed that he was "not allowed" to give us any help with the substance of these essays. Literally, that is what he said. So, that might have something to do with how shitty it is.
But also I distinctly remember frantically typing up this thing the morning it was due, in typical IB fashion, without even bothering to read anything over. So that's not good either. Probably it would be less horrible if I had, you know... thought about it in any way, shape, or form.
I would post the essay itself, except it seems that I have a shred of dignity left in me somewhere that prevents me from doing so. However, after reading the conclusion aloud to my companion and both of us holding back vomit over it, I scribbled this little comic. (It's on free Oxford stationery... and also, it was done in the dark / while in bed / in 2 minutes... hence the quality. Man, I always have to qualify everything, don't I!)
The comic features me and Snickerbot, the mean, joke-cracking robot that my companion and I invented together. (Snickerbot pretty much symbolizes our relationship. I think I realized I was in love
one time while we were laughing hysterically over a
fantastic Snickerbot joke...)
Anyway. Here you go:(In case you have trouble deciphering my hurried scrawl:
Panel 1: "Oh god... I can't believe I handed this in..." / "NINA HIGH SCHOOL ESSAY"
Panel 2: "YOINK"
Panel 3: "I WILL SUBJECT THIS TO PEER REVIEW"
Panel 4: "...it is that which truly MAKES US HUMAN"
Panel 5: n/a
Panel 6: "CONTEMPT.EXE")
Yes, that sentence really does appear in the essay's conclusion. Yes. Really.
Permission to hate me: Granted.