It’s all the shit that went on this week that makes me never want to hold grudges. Bridges were burned with people in my life, but that wouldn’t make me any less sad if I were to lose anyone I knew. Friend of me or not, stay safe, y’all. <3
There was one thing I used to tell a lot of my friends; about how a fork in the road I had some years back was pretty influential in where I am now. Well, apparently I’ve got a small window to hit that restart button tomorrow. “Just nervous” is putting it lightly.
Between school, work, my internship, my website, dating, and moving, my life hasn’t had nearly the amount of time I wanted for gaming. I have managed to beat some incredible games so far this year! So far, Saints Row the Third, Catherine, and Little Inferno have been my favorites. Catherine was a trip to play. Never thought a video game would make me question my own relationship beliefs. Now all I hear about is Tomb Raider and Bioshock Infinite, so I’m gonna throw myself into the past and start Bioshock 1 for the first time tonight. Hope I like it because Infinite looks phenomenal.
My teacher the other day mentioned to me how she heard some writers have a form of “therapeutic” writing. That some writers write whatever is in their head in an attempt to rid themselves of whatever fatigue, stress, anger, sadness, loss, gain, they are suffering through. I told her that it was true. I know a few people in my writing class that do that, and I absolutely do it too.
If anyone ever knew how much I actually wrote, they’d be shocked. I’ve only trusted a handful of people to read some sort of content before, and I’ve never trusted anyone enough to really dig through my writing. Which I find hilarious when people are all, “Really? You should let me see your stuff!” If it were so easy.
Writing is a meticulous thing for me. Maybe I am not in a good place, here’s a story about a character who has every bad thing thrown at him constantly with no resolve. Maybe I have too many thoughts going on, here’s a story about a character who is going insane with a writing style that’s very schizophrenic. Maybe I am judging what makes a person’s will good or bad— well that’s just a piece of the puzzle for what I’m going through and writing for right now.
While it was a very, ponderous decision to go into Creative Writing, I have grown to adore that class. Not only have I made two very amazing friends in there, but that class has me brainstorming and going through scenarios in my head that I probably wouldn’t have before. And while I admit it wasn’t the most “flow-y” piece of work I’ve made so far, I submitted my zombie story with some updates for critique. My teacher, who loathes any zombie material actually praised my story. Saying it was very unique, insane, and comical. That story was mostly writing at 3 a.m. in 2011. Just another slice of what I’m going through.
The biggest challenge I’m facing is being proud of my work. I want to just enjoy my work, but it rarely comes out of a positive moment. That’s like being proud of a therapy session; what the hell, right? I write something, toss it because I’m over it. If it lingers long enough, it’ll get posted.
"What are you trying to say with your work?" That’s a question I wondered about for awhile. Am I trying to make a point? Or am I just giving those who care a little insight into my life? Maybe both. I’m excited for what I’m writing, more excited than I’ve been about any writing in a long time. Just gotta fix a few things first.
Finally got my burst of inspiration and belted out the first chapter in a short story/novel idea I came up with. Fucking so happy. :3
I can’t handle the pressure. I’m probably the most ironic person I know at the moment. I’m struggling with a terrible case of writer’s block. So much that I abandoned my New Years Resolution and couldn’t bring myself to finish my novel chunk for my creative writing class.
What’s ironic, you say? I’m always trying to make the best material. Always wanting to be the best. I don’t feel the best right now. I feel like my writing is garbage, rushed, incomplete, and broken. Yet, all of the writing I’ doing at school is getting praise. What’s ironic? That I fucking almost hate it. It makes my ego big and almost encourages me to keep pumping out this random off-the-cuff stuff. Yet, here I am. Making papers last second. Recycling random ideas. Not elaborating as much as I could, but every teacher is just, “Wow! You can write!”
Shouldn’t I hate myself for that? Shouldn’t I be happy about that? I have no idea where to go from here. I’m struggling for inspiration. It’s like not exercising for years and suddenly going on a daily regime. Your body gives out, and it’s not healthy for you. That’s how I feel in my head. I’m cranking out my creativity so much that I’m being drained of every neat idea I have. Maybe I bit off more than I can chew. I was pretty proud of myself. I’ll pick it up eventually. For now, I’m listening to every song, watching any video, doing anything to get that spark in my head.
Re-writing is something I always thought should never happen. Such as life, once something happens, you let it go. Maybe I need to go back and re-work on things. Maybe I need to redevelop my philosophy. 2013 has me achieving greatly, but so far it’s all been dumb luck in a dark room. I’m here with a candle, slowly trying to not bump into any walls. 11 more months to go. I’ll work it out.
In a year where I had originally planned to repair my bridges, I ended up burning a very strong one for my own well-being. I’ll probably regret this for awhile. I’m sure I’ll return to fix this later on. For now, and for one of the first times in my life I’m taking an initiative to help myself. I’d be dumb to continue down this route without change.
Let’s hope this was the right thing to do.
Love is a weird thing. Love makes people change. Lack of love makes people change.
Crushes make me glance at you more than a typical person.
Liking makes me want to talk to you more.
But love, love has the opposite effect.
Love makes me avoid your eyes.
Love makes me more quiet to you.
Love makes me think about you more than anything else.
Love makes me paranoid of how you think of me.
Love makes me want to do everything for you.
I don’t know. It’s funny how easy I can read women, but once you start to fall into the love category, I over-think you until you and I date. I’m taking my time to make sure I dig out a real keeper as my next girlfriend. I have had my eyes set on one particular girl for the past like 3 months. It’s hard to get out of my mindset. We’ll see how life is though. There’s still two weeks left this year and anything can happen.