Thursday, January 31, 2013

Yeah, He's Compensating (and writerly updates)

(Although some stupid drivers are amusing...)
This is a bit different than my normal posts. Okay, who am I kidding? I had a blog called "Spontaneous Chatter" that was dedicated to all of the random things that float around in my mind. But I don't actually care enough to update 2 blogs so I just decided to combine them, which means anyone following this one for my writing updates is going to hear pretty much every weird thought that goes through my mind that I decide it worthy to blog about. And by "anyone" I mean that poor, unfortunate soul that actually spends five minutes reading this inane, rambling nonsense. But seriously - wanna talk about random? Let's talk about one of the most OBNOXIOUS things you see when driving (and that's discounting obnoxious drivers themselves, cause that's a whole other story):

Truck testicles.

No, you did not read that incorrectly. I have a question to voice to the world. Seriously. WHAT the HECK is up with truck testicles?? No, I'm not being profane, or gross, or making a euphemism. I'm actually talking about those complete idiots that decide that jacking up their truck isn't enough, so they go buy plastic balls and tie them to the backs of their trucks.

Seriously? C'mon bro, if you've jacked it up to such a height that you need to pole vault into the car and women wearing monstrous stilettos still need a boost, you're already telling people that you're compensating for something. Adding balls to your truck does not negate that fact. It just makes you look like more of an idiot. So, please, for all of our sakes, DO NOT make your car a "dude." It just makes you look like a bigger girl.

You're welcome.

Also, avoid the giant Ed Hardy stickers. Really, not only do you look like a complete and total moron, but you're actually a hazard on the road. How the heck can you see in your review mirror if you have these giant letters blocking three-quarters of your back window? Just not smart. Every time I see those dang things I just get this image of a cartoon truck with a huge, fratty hat on the hood. It's not a compliment.
I even used my mad artistic skills to bring this image to life...

Oh, and in the world of writing, definitely made my deadline. BAM. 92k in 30 days. My next challenge? Figure out what next novel I'm writing for my Advanced Fiction class. I've got two months for this creature, but it is definitely a hard one to crack. Seriously, you can write and write and write and get absolutely nothing (kind of like this post), and then write some more only to find yourself sitting at your desk five hours later having consumed an idiotic amount of goldfish and created nothing but a deformed novel-baby that should be shoved right back into the womb and never seen again. Graphic enough? You're welcome again. I'm in a sharing kind of mood tonight.

So, between those two lovely ideas (seriously, Thursday nights my brain is shot. I shouldn't be allowed near a computer, let alone my own blog), I retreat into my literary world. To write, or not to write? Is it right to write this night? Oh rhymes... But here goes the poll: historical fiction a la ancient Rome with a slightly "magical" twist or should I go hardcore and just hit up the supernatural romance with a psychotic serial killer? Oh the choices of life...

Until next time.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Life is Real

I'm not normally a ridiculously impatient person. Really, I'm not. I fill my time to keep myself from becoming impatient. Often this results in slight bouts of craziness when I have TOO much to do, but I think I might actually have the opposite problem this semester.

I'm in my last semester of college. This means Real Life is looming, right around the corner. It's creeping forward with this awful gaping mouth ready to swallow us almost-graduates whole, chew us up a bit, and spit us back into the Big Bad World. Some of us might have jobs lined up. Some of us have internships that might lead somewhere. Some of us don't.

I like to think I had my "stuff" together at some point. I mean, I had an internship in London during my sophomore year, I've kept busy with 18 units of classes almost every semester, I've got two sort-of jobs that give me a sort-of income so I can have a little fun. It works. It keeps me busy. But after becoming a part-time student this semester, I came to the HUGE realization that... holy hell, life is actually real. Like, gaping maw, chewing jaws, spitting us out into the world isn't just an analogy. It's a fact.

A cold hard fact that makes me kind of wish I could magically tap on a fortune cookie and be all: "yo, tell me what to do, bro." Or, I guess, something along those lines (preferably in less surfer/douchey language). Win some, lose some. But, in all seriousness, I've spent the last weekend (because I get 4 day-weekends due to my schedule) looking for a third job, internships that don't conflict with my current jobs or classes, et cetera. I feel like a maniac. On top of that, I'm actually close to fulfilling my goal of writing a novel (at least the first draft) in a month.

I started the 18th. My deadline is the 17th. I'm at 81k as of today, which means I've got somewhere around 10k words before I'm finished. At least that's what I'm estimating, looking at my current point in the story.

And yet EVEN THAT hasn't kept me from wondering what in the hell I'm doing with my life. I know what I WANT to do. I want to be a writer. I bleed writing. But seriously, it's kind of my obsession and the one thing I've remained committed to all my life (definitely failed in the whole relationships aspect of commitment so far... thanks books). Okay, maybe some commitment to happy hour as well once I became legal, but in all seriousness, I know that the road I'd love to take.

But then you get all those lovely articles about how damn hard it is to make it as a writer. Oh, I KNOW. Thank you world, for that one. But I guess it wouldn't be as much of an accomplishment if it was easy. Doesn't make my happy, though. If anyone who reads this (if anyone does) needs someone to write for a magazine... online journal... let's do this. I'm all about "How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

Anyhow, I applied to grad schools. Of course, that was on a whim and I have no idea if it'll actually pan out, or if I want it to pan out. Life is confusing. Life is hard. Life is real. Life kind of sucks sometimes, even with happy hour.

I've managed to kind of block this fear with some time with friends, some classes (I get - not have - to write another novel for one of them in about 2 months), and lots of gym and writing time. Although I definitely missed out on my run today as I pounded out 11k words. I kid you not. My mind is absolutely fried. But I love it. I've also been trying cooking experiments. Seriously. I made the best friggin omelette the other day. Check it:

I guess this blog was a mini rant, but also a kind of outlet for me, and for anyone suffering the same fears right now. Yeah, the Big Bad World is rapping at our door right now. It's gonna come and get us if we don't buck up and meet it face-on in the next few months - or whatever amount of time it is for you. I'm coming to terms with that, just like I'm coming to terms with the fact that I have no idea what I'm going to do. Will the agent want to represent me? Will I make it into grad school? Will I find a job or internship that works now or will I have to leave it to fate and hope I can find something upon graduation? Will that damn fortune cookie tell me what to do? (Seriously... let's crack one open and get a real future...) It's a scary time, I'm not sure which road I'm walking down right now, which is a new thing for me.

I guess what I have to say, after all of this, is to keep looking forward. Something's going to happen at some point. I just hope it's a good something. Good luck to everyone else out there struggling with the same fears and realizations!