Archive for September, 2010

September 23, 2010

Rough Draft Completed! Wait, what?


So I literally just finished the rough draft of my novel. As in like 5 minutes ago of this writing. You’ll probably be seeing this post in a few days or so but I feel like getting some words down now.

At first I felt nothing and I walked out of the room. “Isn’t there supposed to be a strange feeling after this?” I thought.

Maybe I should have turned the creepy music off but as just as that thought ended it felt like a ton of blood rushed to my head, the walls hummed, and my hands shook.

Well I’m not drinking coffee anymore!

Then I sat back down. I’m not done, there’s editing to do! Probably a few months worth, which is still pretty cool. I’ve never finished a novel length story before. While I will admit there is a giant clusterfuck on my computer with a huge word count surpassing even the one I just finished, that one pretty much needs to be rewritten. Completely.

Goddamn my head feels funny.

So what now? Well I have to edit, and edit and edit before I show it to some of my peers and colleagues (and maybe I’ll harass some old mentors of mine). But, from what I’ve read by other writers, after you finish the rough draft, you leave it the fuck alone for a month. Let it sit there; leave it be for a month before you come back to it. You’ll get a fresh look at it that way.

Okay, cool, but what am I going to do in the meantime? I don’t think I can stop writing for a month. Maybe I’ll start thinking about another project I had in mind.

Either way, I need to go chill out and celebrate a little. :3

Advertisements
September 15, 2010

Other People Having Kids


Newborn child, seconds after birth. The umbili...

These things have come out of people you knew. Kinda like in ALIENS.

It happens in every High School at least once every year: someone gets knocked up. Yet for some reason, it is never a big deal. This usually happens because the people getting knocked up are, well, that kind of people. You are completely unfazed other than the initial  “O RLY?” factor.

When you started college you went to some sort of orientation or had heard this fact somewhere: two out of four will drop out, one of which will be due to pregnancy. Hearing this, in your head you laughed, Pregnancy? Really? I can understand  alcohol and drug addictions and even bad grades, but pregnancy? Come on man! This is the future; we got rubbers and pills to prevent that!

But then you get half way through college or maybe this even happens once you’re done. Either way it will happen. Maybe you’ll be walking to a Dairy Queen on a nice summer day or maybe it’ll just happen when you’re browsing Facebook. You will see people you knew holding small children. Very small children. Then you notice that the girl you knew holding the child in the photo is in a hospital gown and looks very tired. Wait a minute! You say to yourself, Did fucking X have a fucking child?

Yes, yes they did. And they tend to have this happiness in their eyes that you crave deep down. (Stop denying it, you’re only embarrassing yourself.)

For me this moment came when I saw a former roommate of mine comment on a friend’s…. whatever on Facebook. I noticed the picture of a small newborn child. Knowing this girl my first thought was “oh god she finally snapped and stole someone’s kid. Give me the fucking phone I need to call the cops.” But as I did some stalking investigating I found out she had gotten married and birthed the child.

I was genuinely confused. She was the last one I’d ever expect to have a kid. When she lived with me she had done so many drugs I thought that her body would have been unable to spawn offspring. There were nights where I’d walk downstairs and ask if I could have some sudafed since I was having legitimate problems breathing due to allergies. As she held a half drunk 40 in her hand, she smiled and told me she had just ate them all. The whole pack. Oh, and I think she also had two hits of acid at the time.

I just walked away. My brain was hurting.

But there she was, happy in her photos with the child. I hope she stopped her drug habits now that she was a mother. She wasn’t dumb, just a weird girl who should have grown up in the 1960s. Part of me was jealous of her in a way, she was starting a family. Deep down a lot of us want that; little monsters following us around that think we’re the coolest, strongest, smartest people on the planet. I turned to my fiancee and was about to open my mouth, but then I thought about it for a moment and ran upstairs to give her her birth control pills.

Not now. Maybe in about 10 years.

September 10, 2010

Why I Hate Twilight OR Why Hyper Middle School Girls Are The Most Terrifying Thing Known to Mankind


Apparently this is how I look in the eyes of a young girl. If only my fiancee saw me as this attractive...

I hate Twilight, but not for any legitimate reasons such bad writing or the impression it can leave upon young women. No, my reason is far pettier.

I hate Twilight because I apparently look like Jasper Cullen.

People get me weird looks when I tell them this. “Why? That look is so in right now! Girls love that look!”

Cool. It’s a shame that I don’t give a shit.

The first time I was told that I looked like the sparkly, moody vampire pretty much killed it for me. I was subbing for a middle school teacher a few weeks before the release of the newest movie in the Twilight saga and there was a young girl who skipped into class the kind of way that a speed junkie skips around Walmart after their latest fix that they got in the parking lot. Not to say the kid was on drugs or anything, just really, really hyper. In other words, she was being a normal middle school girl. When she saw me standing in place of her normal teacher, she froze as if she was Bella (main female lead) in the cold gaze of Edward (main sparky vampire). Nearly dropping her stuff, she sat down in her seat and started whispering frantically to her friend.

After class had started she approached me, practically bursting with excitement.

“OHmyGODdidyouknowyouleikJasperFREAKINGCullen?”

“Excuse me?”

“You. Look. Like. Jasper Cullen. You know, from Twilight?”

“Oh, I haven’t seen that yet.”

Looking back now, I shouldn’t really have said anything. I should have been a mean teacher and just told her to sit down. (Oh, wait. I did.) Thus began the longest hour of my life. She periodically came up to me to make strange requests, “Can I call you Mr. Cullen?” (No.) “How about Mr. C?” (No.) “Can you autograph this for me Mr. Cullen?” (Will you sit down and do your work if I do?) “Yes.” (Okay.)

Again, my willpower  was too low and I wasn’t used to dealing with such a high-level Girl of Middle School. In my defense I was pretty new at the job. I think it was only my 3rd or 5th day.

She lied, by the way, and spent the rest of the hour calling me Mr. Cullen from across the room and laughing if I smiled. Which I did almost every time. Honestly, at the time I found it endearing and as a compliment. I brushed it off like the vampires brush off the glitter at the end of the day. That’s how they sparkle right? I haven’t seen the movie or read the books yet.

Class was over and she left. End of story right?

Ha.

I noticed she’d appear in the doorway between hours with a new friend pointing me out and screaming “O HAI THERE MR. CULLEN!”

Started freaking me out at this point. Then I had another girl come into my class and tell me the same thing, albeit more sedated.

“Did you know you look like Jasper Cullen?”

“Yes. Someone told me that earlier.”

“[Insert girl’s name from before]? Yeah, she showed me pictures and video of you during lunch.”

“Oh that’s-wait what?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know about them?”

“Sit down please class is about to start.”

Twilight_Jasper&Alice

Bonus fact: My sister is often told she looks like Jasper's wife Alice. Creepy.

Instantly a billion and a half scenarios passed through my head. All of them ending with me losing my job, my fiancee leaving me, being thrown in prison, and losing my sparkly vampire card in an epic ass kicking by actual vampires (I have a very active imagination). I mean really, parents can be unpredictable. Harry Potter has been banned from school libraries because parents thought it promoted Witchcraft. What’s to say that the girl’s parent saw the pictures and thought crazy soccer mom thoughts and demand that I be tried as a child rapist or something? Nothing-NOTHING-would really stop her if she yelled loud enough.

I  kept mulling the whole thing over in my head as I went home. Worrying and worrying. The student was nice really, but I had to cover my ass. Then it hit me: I was an adult and I was being sexually harassed. I remembered all those sexual harassment videos I was forced to watch and decided to actually listen to them for once.

So I called the principal and told her of the situation. Needless to say she took care of it for me and was glad that I told her. I don’t know what happened to the poor student but at times I don’t care. The reality was I could either be a nice guy and take a huge gamble or be an asshole and cover my ass.

Sometimes you just have to be an asshole.

Other times you get to be a sparkly vampire, but still an asshole.

September 2, 2010

Things They Don’t Tell You About Growing Up: Part 1: Your Neighbors


It taunts me with it's existance very day.

Granted, you may have heard your father complain when you were younger but you never thought you’d be in his shoes. So I’ll just tell you right now:

You will hate your neighbors.

Not all of them-that would mean that you’re an asshole and have anger issues-just a few. Thing is, you will hate them without even knowing anything remotely personal about them (such as their name). For me, I hate two of mine and I know I hate them for no good reason.

My first neighbor doesn’t actually live there. The house is up for sale. However, there is no for sale sign visible from anywhere that would make sense. This summer I saw the man twice; he showed up twice in his giant RV. How that damn thing came and went without anyone noticing is beyond me (though I bet the dark arts were involved). Now, I have nothing against him as a person. He seems fairly nice as other neighbors are actually happy to see him.

But they don’t have to deal with the shit I have to.

The house has a large backyard that comes up to my property. There is a koi pond with a bridge over it that is actually a

protected habitat. Yes, so the city and I can do nothing about the swarm of mosquitoes that arise from the 5 foot tall pond flora. While I enjoy the sound that the toads make at night, the bugs that attack me for it ruin the mood.

But I would forgive the man if that was all. You see, in his nice large yard, closest to me is a half-finished gazebo. That’s right. A fucking gazebo. The half finished piece of crap reminds of it’s existence everyday since my windows open up directly to it. The railing on the outside of it is made of left over white plastic fencing that outlines the rest of the property. The rest of the gazebo is wood. Yes, it sticks out as much as you think shiny white plastic would stick out on a wood construction. My eyes beg my hands to gouge them out every morning. If it’s ugly frame weren’t enough, in it’s poorly made bottom covering lives a nasty opossum that has ripped open my garbage cans from the side. The side! Usually critters of that type knock over trash cans, but not this little fucker! He rips open the side and feasts on my trash.

Photograph of the common opossum

Go to hell and leave my trash alone.

The duck-tape I have applied on my trash can is yet another constant remainder of why I hate my neighbor. On trash day it’s also a “I hate all of you because you like him” badge.

Then there’s the neighbor behind me. I’ve been meaning to clear a bunch of trees out of my backyard but I haven’t for two simple reasons: I don’t want to subject my neighbors to my work-in-progress backyard and because I don’t want to subject myself to their immaculate gardens. This one guy in particular has created a soft, gentle hill where there are two koi ponds that are connected by a waterfall that has (wait for it) LED lights in it. How the hell am I supposed to compete with that? Really? Asshole.

So on quiet nights, I can hear the smooth running water from his yard that are really saying, “my yard is better than yours.”

I am going to build a privacy fence around my entire property and lob Molotov cocktails at that damn gazebo. Take that Mr. Possum.

%d bloggers like this: