My room is such an awful mess right now. And I mean it. Normally when I tell someone my room is a mess, it isn't, and I say it purely so they have expectations of my room being disgusting so that when they see it they're even more surprised than they would be normally. That said, my room is never messy. I can't live or work or sleep in a space that's untidy. Right now, however, because my whole house is being decorated, my room is very messy and it's making me very unsettled. My bookcase is empty, my walls are bare, and my bed is just sitting in the middle of my room like an island in a sea of crap. I swear to God it's so hard to focus on my laptop screen, because out the corner of my left eye, where I usually see a huge plant and a shelf full of owls, I see nothing. Who would have guessed nothingness can be more distracting than something?
I was supposed to have a double ethics lesson this morning, but my teacher was absent so instead me and my fellow classmates did something we do often. My class is small, standing at about 9 members (I say "about" because one student is so unpredictable in his attendance, one week he'll bother to turn up and the next he won't). It's somewhat of a tradition for all of us to get together in one of our free periods on a last thing on a Friday afternoon to discuss controversial topics, normally including abortion about twenty times. We also, for some reason or another, constantly seem to discuss ourselves, and body image and and other things like that. Today's two-hour-chat ranged from suicide, drugs, sex, plastic surgery, plus size models, and the royal family.
Along the way in today's maze of brilliance came the hurdle of our own bodies, and what we have the right to do with them if we wish. I guess I'm obliged to say that this is where it could get potentially controversial or triggering or whatever, so if you're particularly sensitive to that kind of stuff, now might be the best time to close the page on me. If you haven't already, of course.
I firmly believe that a person should be in full and utter control of their body, IF they are not a danger to anyone else. The topic of abortion is, naturally, touchy, because would an abortion count as hurting someone else? In my opinion, yes... Potentially. A potential life. Every period is a potential life, and every ejaculation is a potential life. The world potential is primitive when considering abortion, which is why I am strictly pro-choice. I'm digressing. Anyway. Like I said, I believe a person should do what they want with their own body on account of it only affecting themselves.
One of my friends suggested something like self harm, or even suicide, and much to a particular friend's shock, I stuck by my opinion that a person is the treasurer of their own body, so they should be free to do what they want with it. It may not be particularly nice, or it may be particularly beautiful, but either way, I feel that a person should have the freedom to do what they want.
Somewhere I personally do draw the line, however, is the consumption of alcohol or drugs. If others want to, I am in no position to judge; and I don't. Myself? I wouldn't be able to consume a chemical that altered the way my brain functioned, if only for a few hours, because I'm terrified of doing something dangerous or something that could lead to negative implications for someone else. I'd be lying if I sat here and told you I hadn't smoked before, because I have, but I can sit here and say fairly confidently I will never be drunk or high. Purely because that's the way I think.
Although my opinions differed from my friends', one thing was abundantly conclusive from our debate: people have their own opinions, and it's beyond narcissistic to think someone else's opinion is wrong. I would never dare tell someone what they thought is wrong; I could debate with them, and perhaps show them a side of the argument they might not be thinking about, but I would never flat out tell someone what they believed in was wrong.
Six times today I was told I was wrong for what I believed in, and even though a lot of other things happened today, the fact that someone told me I was wrong sticks out like a flashing red light. I can't place my finger on why it made me so upset to be told I was wrong, but it did. I seem to be unnecessarily affected by things that should be thrown away and not phased by things that need a heap of attention. Isn't it a strange thing, how people are all different and think differently and we're all connected by this weird string of consciousness?
Tomorrow is the date for our bi-weekly Friday afternoon discussion, so I fully intend on replaying my thoughts there (I know I have one girl who thinks exactly the same as me, so my support is there, if a little quiet). Let's hope no one tells me I'm wrong, because it'll be you who's stuck with another whiny blog post.
If you read this, I'm amazed. If you read this without rolling your eyes or cringing, I'm doubly amazed. Congratulations on finishing what could possibly be the worst blog post ever written, ever. For now, thought, I need to turn in and sleep for about a million years to gain enough energy for tomorrow. Thanks for always being there, blog readers. Thanks for being there to take my crap.
Ben
<3
Thursday, 23 February 2012
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
BED...L?
I have come to the conscious and unanimous conclusion that Maureen Johnson is the only entity in the entire world able to masterfully build an event out of a period of time. Her most famous event is more commonly known as BEDA, of course. Me, naturally, being the MJ-wanna-be that I am saw a definitive period of time and stuck a BED in front of it. Thus I give you, dear followers, Blog Every Day in Lent, in which I will... Blog every day for the duration of lent.
For the past few or five or twelve months, I'm not going to say I've been the most productive person. In fact, I'm liable to say I've been one of the least productive people in the entire world, probably. My days consist of school, Tumblr, and sleep. I wish I could tell you I was joking. Due to the fact that I haven't opened up a blog tab in months, and the fact that the writing folder on my desktop hasn't been clicked in even longer, I've decided to give up Laziness for lent.
I have these strange ruts in which I become unable to do anything that requires even the smallest amount of brain activity. Anything more challenging than showering, drinking a cup of tea and writing my own name is out of the question, and I very efficiently hibernate. It's not uncommon for me to turn in at 6:00pm during these ruts. Earlier times have also been known. So, purely because I've had a week off school to refresh my brain cells, and because half of the world is using just another day to make a bunch of arbitrary promises they probably won't keep, I thought lent would be a good a time as any to gradually get myself in the flow of working again. One toe at a time. Slowly does it.
Another resolution I'm forcing myself to abide by (and believe me when I say "force") is doing well in school. I'm not doing bad in school by any means--in fact, I think it's pretty safe to say I'm doing the best I ever have, no doubt helped by the fact I'm focusing all of my energy on four subjects I thoroughly love. Averaging As is common shit now, but because I achieved really poorly on one little assessment in my philosophy class, my current attainment has been dragged down into the dreaded B mark band. The Hermione Granger in me died a little bit today as I learnt that, which in all fairness came at quite a blessed time, what with lent and all. So yeah. For lent, I am giving up laziness, by blogging every day, and I'm also giving up being bad in school. So here I am!
In my absence, which I've no doubt all 22 of you noticed, a lot of really important things have happened. Whitney Houston got divorced, Kim Kardashian died, Queen Elizabeth got fish and I celebrated my 60 years on the thrown. It's crazy to think so much as happened and I haven't been here to comment on or analyse any of it! What a mad world we live in.
No, no. In all seriousness, though, some stuff has happened. I lost a lot of weight, my sister moved out, I've made a lot of new friends, a couple of people who really aren't my friends, I'm starting driving lessons very soon, I applied for a job, and I can finally fit into a pair of jeans I haven't been able to for years. Times have a changed, people have a grown, but I'm still a little old me.
Oh. Oh crap. Well, once a hypocrite, always a hypocrite, right? In true Me style, I'm going now. I have to re-read The Catcher in the Rye for about the bajorzillionth time because tomorrow I'm going to an after school discussion on the book held by my old English teacher, and it's imperative I'm as fresh with the book as I possibly can be. I need to show my teacher I've still got it.
I'm upset that this post has to be left at this, but I'd much rather get something out than nothing out, no matter how poorly written and sporadic. Good luck if you can follow this post at all. I certainly wouldn't have liked to embark on the quest myself. Please believe me when I say tomorrow will be better. For now, though, I've gotta go. Gotham needs me.
Bye, guys!
Ben
<3
P.S- Tell me what you guys are giving up for lent, if anything. If not, why? I wish you all the best in your endeavours if you'll wish me luck. If you won't... I hope you step on lego.
For the past few or five or twelve months, I'm not going to say I've been the most productive person. In fact, I'm liable to say I've been one of the least productive people in the entire world, probably. My days consist of school, Tumblr, and sleep. I wish I could tell you I was joking. Due to the fact that I haven't opened up a blog tab in months, and the fact that the writing folder on my desktop hasn't been clicked in even longer, I've decided to give up Laziness for lent.
I have these strange ruts in which I become unable to do anything that requires even the smallest amount of brain activity. Anything more challenging than showering, drinking a cup of tea and writing my own name is out of the question, and I very efficiently hibernate. It's not uncommon for me to turn in at 6:00pm during these ruts. Earlier times have also been known. So, purely because I've had a week off school to refresh my brain cells, and because half of the world is using just another day to make a bunch of arbitrary promises they probably won't keep, I thought lent would be a good a time as any to gradually get myself in the flow of working again. One toe at a time. Slowly does it.
Another resolution I'm forcing myself to abide by (and believe me when I say "force") is doing well in school. I'm not doing bad in school by any means--in fact, I think it's pretty safe to say I'm doing the best I ever have, no doubt helped by the fact I'm focusing all of my energy on four subjects I thoroughly love. Averaging As is common shit now, but because I achieved really poorly on one little assessment in my philosophy class, my current attainment has been dragged down into the dreaded B mark band. The Hermione Granger in me died a little bit today as I learnt that, which in all fairness came at quite a blessed time, what with lent and all. So yeah. For lent, I am giving up laziness, by blogging every day, and I'm also giving up being bad in school. So here I am!
In my absence, which I've no doubt all 22 of you noticed, a lot of really important things have happened. Whitney Houston got divorced, Kim Kardashian died, Queen Elizabeth got fish and I celebrated my 60 years on the thrown. It's crazy to think so much as happened and I haven't been here to comment on or analyse any of it! What a mad world we live in.
No, no. In all seriousness, though, some stuff has happened. I lost a lot of weight, my sister moved out, I've made a lot of new friends, a couple of people who really aren't my friends, I'm starting driving lessons very soon, I applied for a job, and I can finally fit into a pair of jeans I haven't been able to for years. Times have a changed, people have a grown, but I'm still a little old me.
Oh. Oh crap. Well, once a hypocrite, always a hypocrite, right? In true Me style, I'm going now. I have to re-read The Catcher in the Rye for about the bajorzillionth time because tomorrow I'm going to an after school discussion on the book held by my old English teacher, and it's imperative I'm as fresh with the book as I possibly can be. I need to show my teacher I've still got it.
I'm upset that this post has to be left at this, but I'd much rather get something out than nothing out, no matter how poorly written and sporadic. Good luck if you can follow this post at all. I certainly wouldn't have liked to embark on the quest myself. Please believe me when I say tomorrow will be better. For now, though, I've gotta go. Gotham needs me.
Bye, guys!
Ben
<3
P.S- Tell me what you guys are giving up for lent, if anything. If not, why? I wish you all the best in your endeavours if you'll wish me luck. If you won't... I hope you step on lego.
Saturday, 31 December 2011
2011 in Bullet Points.
Whoa. Today has come around quickly, don't you think? It only seems like 365 days ago the calendars read 2010! Crazy to think that we're only a few hours away from 2K12.
In retrospect, I've realised that 2011 fucking rocked. It was unbelievable. It has become somewhat fashionable, in my opinion, to hate the year you've lived in for the past 12 months come 31st December nowadays. Tumblr has become ladened with wrist-slashing-worthy posts of falling in love, falling out of love, and a big "fuck you" to 2011. I'm sorry, but I can't live like that, especially when this year has been perfect to me. So, in lieu of an angsty emo-esuqe rant pouring over how much I hated this year, I give you a List of Things I Liked About 2011 and a list of Things I Did Not Like About 2011. Put your feet up, flip on the TV, and let's enter 2012 the way we do best; lazily.
Things I Liked About 2011:
✪ Leaving school
✪ Learning for the first time in a long time not to care what people think of me
✪ The music
✪ The food
✪ Skyping with friends lots
✪ 30 Rock
✪ Getting closure on a few personal things
✪ Getting to know myself
✪ Getting to know people in new ways
✪ Standing up for what I believe in
✪ Cutting ties with people who aren't good for me
✪ Shopping for a new wardrobe
✪ My philosophy and ethics lessons
✪ Parks and Recreation
✪ Losing, as of today, 55lbs (4 stone exactly)
✪ Turning 17
✪ Driving a car for the first time
✪ Refusing to drive ever again
✪ Going back on my word and driving again
✪ My incredibly high bagel consumption
✪ Giving everything I have to one person, and learning what that felt like
✪ Coming out as a pizza hater
✪ Fanfiction
✪ Leaning to knit
✪ Deathly Hallows pt. 2
✪ Awkwardly embarrassing myself in front of everyone at all times always ever
✪ Laughing every single day, all day, with my favourite person in the world
✪ Soup
✪ Friday by Rebecca Black
✪ The Hunger Games trailer
✪ Watching the Royal Wedding and crying genuine, compassionate tears
✪ Getting negative feedback from controversial topics I blogged about/not caring
✪ Reading more books
✪ Writing more
✪ Making new friends
✪ Watching every possible Kardashian show on TV unashamedly and loving it
✪ Tina Fey
✪ Watching Juno every single night for about two months
✪ Understanding that sometimes things aren't your fault, but you will be blamed anyway, and in order to move on and evolve you just have to let it go and focus on what is important
✪ Knowing once and for all that Harry Potter will never leave, ever.
Things I Didn't Like About 2011:
✪ Having to say goodbye to a lot of close friends when I left school
✪ Going from Skyping lots to Syping never
✪ Watching Youtube's demise
✪ Watching how quickly a country can turn to shit in, thanks to the riots in August
✪ Peach and raspberry dessert that gave me food poisoning and made me the most ill I have ever been
✪ Wasting my time on things that were impossible
✪ Giving up on Nanowrimo
✪ Deathly Hallows pt. 2
✪ July 15th
✪ Having no money for the majority of the year
✪ Having a block of about a month when I was depressed
✪ Being told I would make a good Slytherin
✪ Seeing friends go through hell and not being there to hug them
✪ Nicki Minaj
✪ Being cold
✪ Having my new wardrobe suddenly become too big for me
✪ Falling asleep ridiculously early
✪ Taking my GCSEs even though they were easy and don't mean anything
✪ Tumblr a decent amount of the time
✪ Saying goodbye to the fiveawesomegirls
✪ And 5awesomegays
✪ And just about everyone
✪ Not spending enough time with my best friend
✪ Not taking advantage of every single day
✪ Being criticised for watching certain TV programs/reading certain books/liking certain people
✪ People whining about being alone
✪ Gay marriage not being a "thing"
✪ Everything suddenly having vampires in it
✪ World peace not being a "thing"
✪ Having to write this list while I need to pee
✪ Ke$ha.
I sit here on the 31st of December, 2011, feeling utterly content and ready for the new year to hurry up and be here already. My resolutions have been fulfilled--to learn to knit, to write a book by hand, and to read 50 books--and I am pondering what exactly it is I want to do next year. Possible resolutions include: landing a left split, getting my driving licence, being a better BFF, and going on more adventures. Don't ask me how I will measure the latter two, but for now, they look like perfect goals.
Dear reader, I wish you a congratulations on making it through the year. I understand the year couldn't have been as good to everyone as it was to me, but I sincerely hope that it was okay. And, if it wasn't for any reason, I'll be wishing you a better 2012.
May your parties be filled with sparkles and your tummies be filled with food. Have a fantastic night, all, and I will be checking up on you in 2012. I have a surprise for this blog, so check this space. Wink wink.
Bye, guys!
Ben
<3
In retrospect, I've realised that 2011 fucking rocked. It was unbelievable. It has become somewhat fashionable, in my opinion, to hate the year you've lived in for the past 12 months come 31st December nowadays. Tumblr has become ladened with wrist-slashing-worthy posts of falling in love, falling out of love, and a big "fuck you" to 2011. I'm sorry, but I can't live like that, especially when this year has been perfect to me. So, in lieu of an angsty emo-esuqe rant pouring over how much I hated this year, I give you a List of Things I Liked About 2011 and a list of Things I Did Not Like About 2011. Put your feet up, flip on the TV, and let's enter 2012 the way we do best; lazily.
Things I Liked About 2011:
✪ Leaving school
✪ Learning for the first time in a long time not to care what people think of me
✪ The music
✪ The food
✪ Skyping with friends lots
✪ 30 Rock
✪ Getting closure on a few personal things
✪ Getting to know myself
✪ Getting to know people in new ways
✪ Standing up for what I believe in
✪ Cutting ties with people who aren't good for me
✪ Shopping for a new wardrobe
✪ My philosophy and ethics lessons
✪ Parks and Recreation
✪ Losing, as of today, 55lbs (4 stone exactly)
✪ Turning 17
✪ Driving a car for the first time
✪ Refusing to drive ever again
✪ Going back on my word and driving again
✪ My incredibly high bagel consumption
✪ Giving everything I have to one person, and learning what that felt like
✪ Coming out as a pizza hater
✪ Fanfiction
✪ Leaning to knit
✪ Deathly Hallows pt. 2
✪ Awkwardly embarrassing myself in front of everyone at all times always ever
✪ Laughing every single day, all day, with my favourite person in the world
✪ Soup
✪ Friday by Rebecca Black
✪ The Hunger Games trailer
✪ Watching the Royal Wedding and crying genuine, compassionate tears
✪ Getting negative feedback from controversial topics I blogged about/not caring
✪ Reading more books
✪ Writing more
✪ Making new friends
✪ Watching every possible Kardashian show on TV unashamedly and loving it
✪ Tina Fey
✪ Watching Juno every single night for about two months
✪ Understanding that sometimes things aren't your fault, but you will be blamed anyway, and in order to move on and evolve you just have to let it go and focus on what is important
✪ Knowing once and for all that Harry Potter will never leave, ever.
Things I Didn't Like About 2011:
✪ Having to say goodbye to a lot of close friends when I left school
✪ Going from Skyping lots to Syping never
✪ Watching Youtube's demise
✪ Watching how quickly a country can turn to shit in, thanks to the riots in August
✪ Peach and raspberry dessert that gave me food poisoning and made me the most ill I have ever been
✪ Wasting my time on things that were impossible
✪ Giving up on Nanowrimo
✪ Deathly Hallows pt. 2
✪ July 15th
✪ Having no money for the majority of the year
✪ Having a block of about a month when I was depressed
✪ Being told I would make a good Slytherin
✪ Seeing friends go through hell and not being there to hug them
✪ Nicki Minaj
✪ Being cold
✪ Having my new wardrobe suddenly become too big for me
✪ Falling asleep ridiculously early
✪ Taking my GCSEs even though they were easy and don't mean anything
✪ Tumblr a decent amount of the time
✪ Saying goodbye to the fiveawesomegirls
✪ And 5awesomegays
✪ And just about everyone
✪ Not spending enough time with my best friend
✪ Not taking advantage of every single day
✪ Being criticised for watching certain TV programs/reading certain books/liking certain people
✪ People whining about being alone
✪ Gay marriage not being a "thing"
✪ Everything suddenly having vampires in it
✪ World peace not being a "thing"
✪ Having to write this list while I need to pee
✪ Ke$ha.
I sit here on the 31st of December, 2011, feeling utterly content and ready for the new year to hurry up and be here already. My resolutions have been fulfilled--to learn to knit, to write a book by hand, and to read 50 books--and I am pondering what exactly it is I want to do next year. Possible resolutions include: landing a left split, getting my driving licence, being a better BFF, and going on more adventures. Don't ask me how I will measure the latter two, but for now, they look like perfect goals.
Dear reader, I wish you a congratulations on making it through the year. I understand the year couldn't have been as good to everyone as it was to me, but I sincerely hope that it was okay. And, if it wasn't for any reason, I'll be wishing you a better 2012.
May your parties be filled with sparkles and your tummies be filled with food. Have a fantastic night, all, and I will be checking up on you in 2012. I have a surprise for this blog, so check this space. Wink wink.
Bye, guys!
Ben
<3
Saturday, 29 October 2011
Writing.
I'm not going to draw this out. You know why I'm here and you know who I am. This is, for the FIRST TIME EVER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD, a preview of my writing. This isn't something I've written specifically for this blog, so it's entirely new and entirely terrifying. This is from a novel I'm writing currently. The basic plot: girl diagnosed with a brain tumour is on a mission to find out why it was her and how she can get the most out of life. What you're going to read now are the first two mini chapter thingies. I've left the prologue out because it would just be too long if I included it. So yeah. It's raw and in the very early stages, so don't hate on it that much. Let me down gently.
___________
October 29th,
A doctor’s office in a dark hospital late on a winter’s evening isn’t where I thought I’d be this morning.
Then again, I never thought I’d be dying any time soon.
I sit cross-legged on a firm sofa—practical, frigid, unwelcoming—that hugs one of the walls in Doctor. Rileman’s office. The opposite wall to me is lined completely in a dark-wooded bookcase.
Ancient spines of cracked books stare at me as I stare at them. The books are so old. They are the homes to long forgotten maladies. They bare poor words of wisdom. They have been hastily annotated by scruffy hands, years and years before I was born. What strange company, I think. I never thought I would be sentenced to death while getting stared at by my best friends.
But, like I said; I never thought I would be dying any time soon.
Doctor. Rileman has long since left his office. He was beeped a few minutes after he broke to news to me. A broken arm, he told me. A child who fell out of a tree too big for them, I’m guessing. Too much to chew.
How careless people were with their health, when I would do anything to have mine back.
Rileman’s water cooler bubbles. A delayed result of when he gave me a cone shaped cup and pleaded me to drink. To move. To speak.
To think.
To exist.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t.
How could I?
How do you react when a stranger pulls you away from your home, sits you in his office, and tells you you’re about to die?
How do you react when a stranger goes into detail about how you will die?
How do you react when a stranger tells you your life is nearly up, and the only thing you can manage to think is how upsetting it will be because you won’t get to read the last book in one of your favourite series?
No.
No no no no no no no no no no no.
How do you react, I scream in my head. How do you react?
Somewhere, deep down, another voice, possibly the same one, whispers back, What a stupid question.
I have no idea how to react.
_________
October 31st, 9:00am
My pillow loves me.
Or, I love my pillow. One of the two.
I haven’t moved for 39 hours. My tears haven’t fallen for 34 of them, but I still haven’t moved. And it wasn’t like I didn’t want to cry. I did. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to move. I did. Something about knowing your time on earth is limited really takes it out of you, you know?
Of course you don’t.
But yeah. I haven’t moved for 39 hours. My pillow—my one true love—has been the shoulder I don’t have. It has been the bosom that I pine so longingly for. It’s been the mop to my river of salt-water seas.
It has been a life-saver.
It is warm. I don’t know why it is warm. I feel cold. My forehead is hot. I think I’m sweating, but I could just be cold. Or maybe the tears actually came back. Maybe they’re escaping from my body in an unconventional way.
I thought that once, when I was a kid. What if you had your tear ducts removed? How would you cry? Could you even have your tear ducts removed? I liked to think that you would cry out of your mouth. Not just a drop, like regular crying. I envisaged waterfalls, gushing from your open mouth while you sobbed and gagged and spluttered through the stream.
How inconvenient that would be, vomiting your tears. How disgustingly salty.
I was always like that as a kid. There was always a why with me. Nothing was ever good enough.
“Oops,” my mum would say, as she dropped a wooden spoon on the kitchen’s tiled floor.
“Why did that happen?” I would ask. Even after mum explained to me about gravity, about Newton, about the apple, about space and time continuums and the sun and Earth, I would always ask why. Why why why why?
That’s how I felt now.
Why?
Anyway, I love my pillow. And my covers.
After I was able to move in Doctor. Rileman’s office, I forced myself, one leg at a time, out of there. There wasn’t anything for me in his office. No book, no condolences... It was empty, cold. The room in which I found out I would die. Nothing could make me stay there.
And so I ran. I picked up my right leg, my left, my right again, and I ran. Slowly to start with. My knees were weak and they felt like jelly, but after one corridor, two corridors, a corner, and the main entrance, they got their feeling back.
The rain whipped at my face like a poisonous sting as I fought my way outside. I was pelted, shard after shard, across my cheek. Scolded. Hadn’t I been through enough that day? And now the rain was in on the sick, sadistic joke?
I didn’t think I would survive the run home. I was fragile as it was. A paper cut-out against a hurricane. Surely I would disintegrate. Dissolve and run down a drain.
Alas, no suck luck.
I think I sprained my ankle, too, but no amount of additional pain could have distracted my mind. I was hurting too much all ready.
I ran home, ran through the door, ran upstairs and threw up straight on the landing. Right in the middle of the hallway. Luckily, Lucinda is in Mallorca with her current boyfriend and his rich family. I didn’t have to clear up after myself.
After my stomach had been emptied, and then emptied some more, I artfully dodged my way around the sick (which I think I deserve a medal for, because frankly, trudging through the contents of my inside didn’t seem like that big of a deal at that moment in time; I had bigger things to worry about), I only just made it to my bed before I collapsed.
The rain, my arch nemesis, woke me up around 4:00 the next day, and I tried to force myself to go through the motions. Go and get a drink of water, I told myself. Go and clean up the hall, I tried to tell my brain.
But I couldn’t.
Surprise, surprise.
And this is how I came to lay in bed for 39 hours. 40, now. 40 hours of doing nothing.
Nothing.
At all.
Ironic, I thought, how I had so little time left, yet I was more than prepared to waste 40 hours of it doing squat. Almost two days. Two whole days. The things I could have done in two days...
And right then, right there, I made a promise with myself.
Start small and work up. Don’t flush any more time away. Get up and do something.
And then I went through to the hall to clean up my lunch from two days ago.
___________
October 29th,
A doctor’s office in a dark hospital late on a winter’s evening isn’t where I thought I’d be this morning.
Then again, I never thought I’d be dying any time soon.
I sit cross-legged on a firm sofa—practical, frigid, unwelcoming—that hugs one of the walls in Doctor. Rileman’s office. The opposite wall to me is lined completely in a dark-wooded bookcase.
Ancient spines of cracked books stare at me as I stare at them. The books are so old. They are the homes to long forgotten maladies. They bare poor words of wisdom. They have been hastily annotated by scruffy hands, years and years before I was born. What strange company, I think. I never thought I would be sentenced to death while getting stared at by my best friends.
But, like I said; I never thought I would be dying any time soon.
Doctor. Rileman has long since left his office. He was beeped a few minutes after he broke to news to me. A broken arm, he told me. A child who fell out of a tree too big for them, I’m guessing. Too much to chew.
How careless people were with their health, when I would do anything to have mine back.
Rileman’s water cooler bubbles. A delayed result of when he gave me a cone shaped cup and pleaded me to drink. To move. To speak.
To think.
To exist.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t.
How could I?
How do you react when a stranger pulls you away from your home, sits you in his office, and tells you you’re about to die?
How do you react when a stranger goes into detail about how you will die?
How do you react when a stranger tells you your life is nearly up, and the only thing you can manage to think is how upsetting it will be because you won’t get to read the last book in one of your favourite series?
No.
No no no no no no no no no no no.
How do you react, I scream in my head. How do you react?
Somewhere, deep down, another voice, possibly the same one, whispers back, What a stupid question.
I have no idea how to react.
_________
October 31st, 9:00am
My pillow loves me.
Or, I love my pillow. One of the two.
I haven’t moved for 39 hours. My tears haven’t fallen for 34 of them, but I still haven’t moved. And it wasn’t like I didn’t want to cry. I did. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to move. I did. Something about knowing your time on earth is limited really takes it out of you, you know?
Of course you don’t.
But yeah. I haven’t moved for 39 hours. My pillow—my one true love—has been the shoulder I don’t have. It has been the bosom that I pine so longingly for. It’s been the mop to my river of salt-water seas.
It has been a life-saver.
It is warm. I don’t know why it is warm. I feel cold. My forehead is hot. I think I’m sweating, but I could just be cold. Or maybe the tears actually came back. Maybe they’re escaping from my body in an unconventional way.
I thought that once, when I was a kid. What if you had your tear ducts removed? How would you cry? Could you even have your tear ducts removed? I liked to think that you would cry out of your mouth. Not just a drop, like regular crying. I envisaged waterfalls, gushing from your open mouth while you sobbed and gagged and spluttered through the stream.
How inconvenient that would be, vomiting your tears. How disgustingly salty.
I was always like that as a kid. There was always a why with me. Nothing was ever good enough.
“Oops,” my mum would say, as she dropped a wooden spoon on the kitchen’s tiled floor.
“Why did that happen?” I would ask. Even after mum explained to me about gravity, about Newton, about the apple, about space and time continuums and the sun and Earth, I would always ask why. Why why why why?
That’s how I felt now.
Why?
Anyway, I love my pillow. And my covers.
After I was able to move in Doctor. Rileman’s office, I forced myself, one leg at a time, out of there. There wasn’t anything for me in his office. No book, no condolences... It was empty, cold. The room in which I found out I would die. Nothing could make me stay there.
And so I ran. I picked up my right leg, my left, my right again, and I ran. Slowly to start with. My knees were weak and they felt like jelly, but after one corridor, two corridors, a corner, and the main entrance, they got their feeling back.
The rain whipped at my face like a poisonous sting as I fought my way outside. I was pelted, shard after shard, across my cheek. Scolded. Hadn’t I been through enough that day? And now the rain was in on the sick, sadistic joke?
I didn’t think I would survive the run home. I was fragile as it was. A paper cut-out against a hurricane. Surely I would disintegrate. Dissolve and run down a drain.
Alas, no suck luck.
I think I sprained my ankle, too, but no amount of additional pain could have distracted my mind. I was hurting too much all ready.
I ran home, ran through the door, ran upstairs and threw up straight on the landing. Right in the middle of the hallway. Luckily, Lucinda is in Mallorca with her current boyfriend and his rich family. I didn’t have to clear up after myself.
After my stomach had been emptied, and then emptied some more, I artfully dodged my way around the sick (which I think I deserve a medal for, because frankly, trudging through the contents of my inside didn’t seem like that big of a deal at that moment in time; I had bigger things to worry about), I only just made it to my bed before I collapsed.
The rain, my arch nemesis, woke me up around 4:00 the next day, and I tried to force myself to go through the motions. Go and get a drink of water, I told myself. Go and clean up the hall, I tried to tell my brain.
But I couldn’t.
Surprise, surprise.
And this is how I came to lay in bed for 39 hours. 40, now. 40 hours of doing nothing.
Nothing.
At all.
Ironic, I thought, how I had so little time left, yet I was more than prepared to waste 40 hours of it doing squat. Almost two days. Two whole days. The things I could have done in two days...
And right then, right there, I made a promise with myself.
Start small and work up. Don’t flush any more time away. Get up and do something.
And then I went through to the hall to clean up my lunch from two days ago.
Friday, 28 October 2011
Questionnaire Time!
One thing I love doing before I embark on a serious writing project is filling out a questionnaire from my character's point of view. I did this with my first Nano novel, and while it turned out to be absolute turd, I feel like I know the protagonist from that novel the best. As the writer, I suppose I should know everything about my characters, but that's rarely the case. I know enough. I know their favourite colour, the length and preferred style of their hair, where their scars are and how they got there... But, nine times out of ten, I just don't know everything about my characters; a lot of stuff comes organically when I write, like certain things that fit into the circumstance. To make sure I know as much about my characters as I possible can, like I said, I like to fill out some questionnaires. There are loads that can be found all over Google, but one I just stumbled upon, the one that is from the Nanowrimo website, sounds like it could be the best and most detailed so far. So, tonight, I will be filling that in. Hopefully, you'll get to know a little bit more about my novel (but not that much, remember), and maybe this will help some of you who aren't that confident? Give it a go. I'd love to hear about your own novels. If you're struggling, have struggled before, or feel like you will struggle, fill this out in the comments, and I promise it will help just a smidge. Okay. Commence!
Protagonist:
1. Name: April. (Last name undetermined at this point in time.)
2. Age: Twenty two years old. Probably nearer the end of twenty two. Nearing twenty three.
3. Height: 5'5.5".
4. Eye color: Dark brown.
5. Physical appearance: Blonde hair, a pretty face, thin but not fit, a too-thin bottom lip.
6. Strange or unique physical appearance: Scar on left ear from when a dog bit her.
7. Hobbies/interests: Collecting coffee stirrers, people watching, books, cats, riding on trains just for the sake of riding on trains, dentistry.
8. Where does he or she live? What is it like there? Some fairly place in the US, though when she was younger she moved back and forward from her home in America to Surrey, UK, due to her English father. I've been feeling San Francisco for her current (lol or is it SPOILERR) place of residence (The England thing is relevant to the story, swearsies.)
9. Special skills/abilities: Lip reading, impersonations, touch her nose with her tongue, recite word for word the first page of all the Harry Potter books.
10. Family (describe): A mother with chin-length brown hair who used to wear odds sock when my protagonist was little, died when my protagonist was seventeen in car crash. An English father who worked in foreign banking, flew from London to America every Saturday, alternating the countries for a week at a time. Also died in car crash. (Again, this is clichéd, but it has to be that way to make the rest of the story work.
11. Description of his or her house: Lives by herself in her parents' home. I really imagine this to be very old-ladyish; one-leveled, painted white, wrap around porch, nice little front garden, plush shaggy colourful rugs inside, yellow kitchen, two bedrooms, chicken coop down the bottom of the back garden. Something small and modest and very warm.
12. Description of his or her bedroom: Pink. Got to be pink. A light pink with yellow curtains and a rocking chair in the corner that houses her jeans. This is her childhood room. She couldn't take her parents' room after they died. She hasn't decorated it since she was 14. An old stack of paperbacks in the corner near her bed. Some kind of paper crane hanging from the ceiling. A half-finished scarf and an unfinished cup of tea on her bedside table.
13. Favorite bands/songs/type of music: Probably Oh No Oh My and Simon and Garfunkel, or something.
14. Favorite movies: The Wizard of Oz, or The Sound of Music.
15. Favorite TV shows: Monty Python (something she picked up from her dad.)
16. Favorite books: Wuthering Heights.
17. Favorite foods: Soups.
18. Favorite sports/sports teams: Ice Skating. Tara Lipinski.
19. Political views: Politics don't concern her, but she does like everyone, so I'm guessing Labour (UK). Sorry, Americans. Your political system confuses me.
20. Any interesting philosophies on life? "Happiness is free. So is sadness, but sadness hurts your face more." Generally, the kind of person who just makes people happy. The kind of person who lights up a room just by being so positive. Think Kenneth Parcell, but female, not a hillbilly, and not so anal about religion.
21. Religion: Atheist. I think. I guess. I dunno.
22. Physical health: Can't run a mile without getting a stitch but can skate for hours.
23. Pet peeves: When people ask her what her pet peeves are, because she can never think of any on the spot.
There you go! That is my character. Or, at least, a little insight to her. I have such a strong feeling about this character. This is the first protagonist--or, actually, the first character in general--that I've based on someone. And this character is based strongly on someone. When the idea for this plot came I smiled like a crazy bastard in front of my bathroom mirror, naked, because I knew that the character would be so fun to write.
I hope this was a permissible post. I'll post some of my writing tomorrow, and Sunday will probably be something non-writing related. I hope this doesn't turn people off.
Bye, guys!
Ben
<3
P.S- I'm serious about you filling this in, if you want to. I'd love to know a little bit about your novels!
Protagonist:
1. Name: April. (Last name undetermined at this point in time.)
2. Age: Twenty two years old. Probably nearer the end of twenty two. Nearing twenty three.
3. Height: 5'5.5".
4. Eye color: Dark brown.
5. Physical appearance: Blonde hair, a pretty face, thin but not fit, a too-thin bottom lip.
6. Strange or unique physical appearance: Scar on left ear from when a dog bit her.
7. Hobbies/interests: Collecting coffee stirrers, people watching, books, cats, riding on trains just for the sake of riding on trains, dentistry.
8. Where does he or she live? What is it like there? Some fairly place in the US, though when she was younger she moved back and forward from her home in America to Surrey, UK, due to her English father. I've been feeling San Francisco for her current (lol or is it SPOILERR) place of residence (The England thing is relevant to the story, swearsies.)
9. Special skills/abilities: Lip reading, impersonations, touch her nose with her tongue, recite word for word the first page of all the Harry Potter books.
10. Family (describe): A mother with chin-length brown hair who used to wear odds sock when my protagonist was little, died when my protagonist was seventeen in car crash. An English father who worked in foreign banking, flew from London to America every Saturday, alternating the countries for a week at a time. Also died in car crash. (Again, this is clichéd, but it has to be that way to make the rest of the story work.
11. Description of his or her house: Lives by herself in her parents' home. I really imagine this to be very old-ladyish; one-leveled, painted white, wrap around porch, nice little front garden, plush shaggy colourful rugs inside, yellow kitchen, two bedrooms, chicken coop down the bottom of the back garden. Something small and modest and very warm.
12. Description of his or her bedroom: Pink. Got to be pink. A light pink with yellow curtains and a rocking chair in the corner that houses her jeans. This is her childhood room. She couldn't take her parents' room after they died. She hasn't decorated it since she was 14. An old stack of paperbacks in the corner near her bed. Some kind of paper crane hanging from the ceiling. A half-finished scarf and an unfinished cup of tea on her bedside table.
13. Favorite bands/songs/type of music: Probably Oh No Oh My and Simon and Garfunkel, or something.
14. Favorite movies: The Wizard of Oz, or The Sound of Music.
15. Favorite TV shows: Monty Python (something she picked up from her dad.)
16. Favorite books: Wuthering Heights.
17. Favorite foods: Soups.
18. Favorite sports/sports teams: Ice Skating. Tara Lipinski.
19. Political views: Politics don't concern her, but she does like everyone, so I'm guessing Labour (UK). Sorry, Americans. Your political system confuses me.
20. Any interesting philosophies on life? "Happiness is free. So is sadness, but sadness hurts your face more." Generally, the kind of person who just makes people happy. The kind of person who lights up a room just by being so positive. Think Kenneth Parcell, but female, not a hillbilly, and not so anal about religion.
21. Religion: Atheist. I think. I guess. I dunno.
22. Physical health: Can't run a mile without getting a stitch but can skate for hours.
23. Pet peeves: When people ask her what her pet peeves are, because she can never think of any on the spot.
There you go! That is my character. Or, at least, a little insight to her. I have such a strong feeling about this character. This is the first protagonist--or, actually, the first character in general--that I've based on someone. And this character is based strongly on someone. When the idea for this plot came I smiled like a crazy bastard in front of my bathroom mirror, naked, because I knew that the character would be so fun to write.
I hope this was a permissible post. I'll post some of my writing tomorrow, and Sunday will probably be something non-writing related. I hope this doesn't turn people off.
Bye, guys!
Ben
<3
P.S- I'm serious about you filling this in, if you want to. I'd love to know a little bit about your novels!
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Nanowrimo? More like Nanoreflectiono.
What's that I hear? Kleenex boxes being attacked violently for tissues? People all around the world blowing their noses and dabbing their eyes to stop the flood of tears? Is that... Is that my name I hear being screamed? Is everyone rejoicing in the fact that I am here, back and good as ever, again on this fine, fine evening? Oh, praise the world! I am here, readers, and you can weep in happiness to your heart's content! I am here! Good has prevailed!
Or, like, hi.
I woke up this morning after my mother brutally fist-smashed my bedroom door in order to wake me up ready to drive to my grandma's house. God knows why she couldn't have knocked lightly, or even called my name out softly, like in movies. But no. She Hulk-ed her way through my door (is Hulked a verb?), and I was left to rouse from a beautiful night's sleep. As soon as I was awake and capable of coherent thoughts, I rolled over in my bed, picked up my phone, and saw I had some texts from Twitter. They were all from Laura (the one you will know to be famous for doingtheastro) calling me out on the fact that I did not blog for two days straight after I said I was doing Blog Every Day This Week. So, of course, because the Queen did calleth me out, I am here, begging for your forgiveness, blogging as though nothing has happened. Forgive meee?
Right. On with the blog. On Monday I thought that it would be pretty cool to take this week and use it just for blogging about Nanowrimo/writing in general. Although I still think, given the time of year, that it would be a pretty good idea, I understand that not everyone is interested in Nanowrimo. Or, if they are, not everyone gives that much of a crap about it. Like, on a scale from one to ten, some people are about a four, and I don't want to piss them off.
Naturally, I immediately decided to screw the fours and take up my plan to spend this week blogging about Nanowrimo, anyway. Or, writing in general, I guess. I was actually going to blog about myself today, in response to something I saw on Tumblr earlier in the day, but realised it would be sappy and uncomfortably sad. So, sorry if you don't care about Nanowrimo, but that's what I'm talking about tonight. I can't just blog straight up about my life after taking a two day break, knowing that people WANT THIS! I have to dip my toe in. So, if you don't care about Nanowrimo, you can just stop reading now. I promise you I won't be offended. (I will most probably be offended.)
OKAY! So. Nanowrimo. I really, really am in hearts with Nanowrimo, you guise, and not just for the writing. I do love the writing, don't get me wrong--and if I didn't, what would be the point in me doing it--but I love the community more. I love knowing that thousands of people around the world are stressed and pained and crying over plot holes. You know why? Because I'm a sadistic fucking bastard and it gives me great thrills in knowing that people are hurting, that's why. Nanowrimo really teaches you a lot about yourself, not necessarily as a writer, but maybe more as an empathetic human being (lack of, in my case?). To me, knowing that I'm not the only one with such a gargantuan task is so much easier than attempting anything similar alone. So, take advantage of the fact that some people you know are probably going through the same thing, and add them as a writing buddy. Also, add me. My username is ItsBenCracknell, because I'm o-rig-i-nal, baby.
This year will be my third year attempting Nanowrimo. I won the last two tries, so I'm hoping that my track record and my stubbornness will be a good thing to bring forward. My first novel was an absolute train wreck. It was so awful that I will never, ever read it again. Which is a shame, because I definitely think I had a gem of an idea there. But I'm put off it, so I don't think I'll visit it again in the near future. I think I finished the first go on the 29th at exactly 50,000 words. Novel numero dos was slightly less of a train wreck. It wasn't absolutely terrible, but it wasn't very readable, either. I smoothed it out for about 7 months afterwards, and I'm about 40% happy with the 5th draft I have now. That said, though, I probably won't pay it much attention ever again. It was a good idea, and there are definitely sequels in my head, but I wrote that a year ago and I am capable of so much more now.
Which brings me neatly to the point you've all been waiting for... My 2011 plot!
I'm not giving much away... At all... Because I hate sharing my work until I am happy enough with it. I also hate giving away plots because plots are often not even skeletons--they're, like, less then a skeleton, what ever that is. They're micro skeletons. There is so much warping and shaping and bone growing to go on behind the scenes that the original plot makes no sense and sounds awful. That said, I am delighted to tell you that my 2011 plot is this:
HAHAHA. You thought I was going to tell you? Yeah, you wish.
No, no. That stays secret, I'm afraid. Possibly I'll tell you soon, but until I know what's going on properly, it stays safely in my head. But I promise I have one. Oh, you don't believe me? Fine. Okay. I'll tell you this. My protagonist is female, and a dental hygienist. Still not good enough? Fine. Hmm. Let's see. Oh! Okay. In the novel, there will be a scene, if you will, in which she watches all of the Harry Potter films back-to-back. There you go.
And that, my friends, is all you're getting tonight. Hush moaning, and go and work on your own novels.
Before I sign off and crawl into my bed like a monster from the sea, a very big thank you to Laura, who got me back here tonight, and an equally big thank you to Lauren, who mentioned me at the end of her blog post yesterday. Girl, makes me happy to know you think I'm a slut. *fist pump chest*
Bye, guys!
Ben
<3
P.S- Tomorrow, I'll spice it up a little, promise. Maybe I'll post something I've written before? Any requests? Any questions from virgins? Any questions in general, about writing or otherwise? Hit me up (cringe), and I'll get back to you tomorrow. I promise this time.
Or, like, hi.
I woke up this morning after my mother brutally fist-smashed my bedroom door in order to wake me up ready to drive to my grandma's house. God knows why she couldn't have knocked lightly, or even called my name out softly, like in movies. But no. She Hulk-ed her way through my door (is Hulked a verb?), and I was left to rouse from a beautiful night's sleep. As soon as I was awake and capable of coherent thoughts, I rolled over in my bed, picked up my phone, and saw I had some texts from Twitter. They were all from Laura (the one you will know to be famous for doingtheastro) calling me out on the fact that I did not blog for two days straight after I said I was doing Blog Every Day This Week. So, of course, because the Queen did calleth me out, I am here, begging for your forgiveness, blogging as though nothing has happened. Forgive meee?
Right. On with the blog. On Monday I thought that it would be pretty cool to take this week and use it just for blogging about Nanowrimo/writing in general. Although I still think, given the time of year, that it would be a pretty good idea, I understand that not everyone is interested in Nanowrimo. Or, if they are, not everyone gives that much of a crap about it. Like, on a scale from one to ten, some people are about a four, and I don't want to piss them off.
Naturally, I immediately decided to screw the fours and take up my plan to spend this week blogging about Nanowrimo, anyway. Or, writing in general, I guess. I was actually going to blog about myself today, in response to something I saw on Tumblr earlier in the day, but realised it would be sappy and uncomfortably sad. So, sorry if you don't care about Nanowrimo, but that's what I'm talking about tonight. I can't just blog straight up about my life after taking a two day break, knowing that people WANT THIS! I have to dip my toe in. So, if you don't care about Nanowrimo, you can just stop reading now. I promise you I won't be offended. (I will most probably be offended.)
OKAY! So. Nanowrimo. I really, really am in hearts with Nanowrimo, you guise, and not just for the writing. I do love the writing, don't get me wrong--and if I didn't, what would be the point in me doing it--but I love the community more. I love knowing that thousands of people around the world are stressed and pained and crying over plot holes. You know why? Because I'm a sadistic fucking bastard and it gives me great thrills in knowing that people are hurting, that's why. Nanowrimo really teaches you a lot about yourself, not necessarily as a writer, but maybe more as an empathetic human being (lack of, in my case?). To me, knowing that I'm not the only one with such a gargantuan task is so much easier than attempting anything similar alone. So, take advantage of the fact that some people you know are probably going through the same thing, and add them as a writing buddy. Also, add me. My username is ItsBenCracknell, because I'm o-rig-i-nal, baby.
This year will be my third year attempting Nanowrimo. I won the last two tries, so I'm hoping that my track record and my stubbornness will be a good thing to bring forward. My first novel was an absolute train wreck. It was so awful that I will never, ever read it again. Which is a shame, because I definitely think I had a gem of an idea there. But I'm put off it, so I don't think I'll visit it again in the near future. I think I finished the first go on the 29th at exactly 50,000 words. Novel numero dos was slightly less of a train wreck. It wasn't absolutely terrible, but it wasn't very readable, either. I smoothed it out for about 7 months afterwards, and I'm about 40% happy with the 5th draft I have now. That said, though, I probably won't pay it much attention ever again. It was a good idea, and there are definitely sequels in my head, but I wrote that a year ago and I am capable of so much more now.
Which brings me neatly to the point you've all been waiting for... My 2011 plot!
I'm not giving much away... At all... Because I hate sharing my work until I am happy enough with it. I also hate giving away plots because plots are often not even skeletons--they're, like, less then a skeleton, what ever that is. They're micro skeletons. There is so much warping and shaping and bone growing to go on behind the scenes that the original plot makes no sense and sounds awful. That said, I am delighted to tell you that my 2011 plot is this:
HAHAHA. You thought I was going to tell you? Yeah, you wish.
No, no. That stays secret, I'm afraid. Possibly I'll tell you soon, but until I know what's going on properly, it stays safely in my head. But I promise I have one. Oh, you don't believe me? Fine. Okay. I'll tell you this. My protagonist is female, and a dental hygienist. Still not good enough? Fine. Hmm. Let's see. Oh! Okay. In the novel, there will be a scene, if you will, in which she watches all of the Harry Potter films back-to-back. There you go.
And that, my friends, is all you're getting tonight. Hush moaning, and go and work on your own novels.
Before I sign off and crawl into my bed like a monster from the sea, a very big thank you to Laura, who got me back here tonight, and an equally big thank you to Lauren, who mentioned me at the end of her blog post yesterday. Girl, makes me happy to know you think I'm a slut. *fist pump chest*
Bye, guys!
Ben
<3
P.S- Tomorrow, I'll spice it up a little, promise. Maybe I'll post something I've written before? Any requests? Any questions from virgins? Any questions in general, about writing or otherwise? Hit me up (cringe), and I'll get back to you tomorrow. I promise this time.
Monday, 24 October 2011
Blog Every Day... This Week?
Baby, it's been a while. I know I said I'd be around more, but you just gotta understand me when I say it's been difficult. I promised you all this care and attention, baby, and you deserve it. It's just other things needed to be first for a while. School, homework, eating... I've been up to my neck in work that I'm pretending to do, baby! But that's all changed now. I'm here, and I'm about to give you all the attention you deserve. Now. Why don't you run upstairs, put on that red lace teddy, and we'll make this a night to remember. ;)
I mean... Hi.
Well this is exciting, isn't it?! It's not August or April and I'm here! For a frequent period of time! Consistently! Aren't you all lucky?!
But no, in all seriousness... Nanowrimo is creeping closer and closer with every day (as days scientifically tend to), and I need to get back in the gentle ebb and flow of writing under pressure again. So, naturally, I thought that blogging under a strict scheduled routine would snap me back into Super Human mode. For this week, I'll blog every night, and write during the day. I just hope this is enough to warm up my legs ready for the marathon ahead.
If you haven't guessed by now, I a) am doing Nanowrimo again this year, and b) have the week off school. If you did guess that much... Congratulations. You get a cookie*.
This is the first year that I won't have to do Nanowrimo in addition to exams. Two years ago, I had Science exams, and last year, I had ALL OF MY GCSEs OH MY GOD**. It'll be a blessed change, being able to sail through without having four hundred other things to do, too.
So how has everyone been? Me? Oh, how kind of you to ask! I've been good, blog readers. I've been pretty dandy, if I may say so. Well, except that I hate school again. But what else is new, hey?
As for Nanowrimo... I don't want to talk about it. I have no plot, no general idea of what I'm going to write, and a boding feeling that this will be the year I fail. Of course, I won't let myself fail, unless I die or my hands fall off, because this is the one thing throughout the whole year that I refuse to give up on, but still. The feeling is lingering over me and it's refusing to go away. Hopefully, when I think of a plot, the sun will come out and dry up all the rain, ready to let my thoughts climb up the spout again. (Wasn't that poetic? See, I'm getting in the mood already.)
What else is new in my life? Hmm. Well, my birthday is pretty soon, I guess. I have to admit, I love having my birthday on the last day of Nanowrimo. It's the best present to myself when I know with a sense of extraordinary accomplishment that I wrote 50,000+ words in 30 days. Not that I would give up real presents for that feeling, though. Feelings, shmeelings. Gimme the good stuff!
This blog post will be pretty short because I want to go and see if I can pull any sort of coherent plot out of a couple ideas I've had for a while now. Probably not, or if there is, not a very good one. I'm so stuck at this point that I'm considering writing Fanfiction.
My questions to you, readers, should you choose to accept, are as follow: a) how are you doing, b) are you doing Nanowrimo this year, c) do you have a plot, d) plotter or pantser, e) how is school, f) have you done something new with your hair, because it looks ravishing?
Have a wonderful week at school, suckers!
Bye, guys!
Ben
<3
* You will have to provide cookies yourself
** I think I actually had two exams, not all of them. So, yeah. Always one for the melodrama, me.
I mean... Hi.
Well this is exciting, isn't it?! It's not August or April and I'm here! For a frequent period of time! Consistently! Aren't you all lucky?!
But no, in all seriousness... Nanowrimo is creeping closer and closer with every day (as days scientifically tend to), and I need to get back in the gentle ebb and flow of writing under pressure again. So, naturally, I thought that blogging under a strict scheduled routine would snap me back into Super Human mode. For this week, I'll blog every night, and write during the day. I just hope this is enough to warm up my legs ready for the marathon ahead.
If you haven't guessed by now, I a) am doing Nanowrimo again this year, and b) have the week off school. If you did guess that much... Congratulations. You get a cookie*.
This is the first year that I won't have to do Nanowrimo in addition to exams. Two years ago, I had Science exams, and last year, I had ALL OF MY GCSEs OH MY GOD**. It'll be a blessed change, being able to sail through without having four hundred other things to do, too.
So how has everyone been? Me? Oh, how kind of you to ask! I've been good, blog readers. I've been pretty dandy, if I may say so. Well, except that I hate school again. But what else is new, hey?
As for Nanowrimo... I don't want to talk about it. I have no plot, no general idea of what I'm going to write, and a boding feeling that this will be the year I fail. Of course, I won't let myself fail, unless I die or my hands fall off, because this is the one thing throughout the whole year that I refuse to give up on, but still. The feeling is lingering over me and it's refusing to go away. Hopefully, when I think of a plot, the sun will come out and dry up all the rain, ready to let my thoughts climb up the spout again. (Wasn't that poetic? See, I'm getting in the mood already.)
What else is new in my life? Hmm. Well, my birthday is pretty soon, I guess. I have to admit, I love having my birthday on the last day of Nanowrimo. It's the best present to myself when I know with a sense of extraordinary accomplishment that I wrote 50,000+ words in 30 days. Not that I would give up real presents for that feeling, though. Feelings, shmeelings. Gimme the good stuff!
This blog post will be pretty short because I want to go and see if I can pull any sort of coherent plot out of a couple ideas I've had for a while now. Probably not, or if there is, not a very good one. I'm so stuck at this point that I'm considering writing Fanfiction.
My questions to you, readers, should you choose to accept, are as follow: a) how are you doing, b) are you doing Nanowrimo this year, c) do you have a plot, d) plotter or pantser, e) how is school, f) have you done something new with your hair, because it looks ravishing?
Have a wonderful week at school, suckers!
Bye, guys!
Ben
<3
* You will have to provide cookies yourself
** I think I actually had two exams, not all of them. So, yeah. Always one for the melodrama, me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)