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Anger

I want to hit something, I want to break something.  I'm reading Faulkner, As I Lay Dying, right now for a class.  It's hard to read at times, accents and such, but it's good.  It's better than good.  I can write like this.  I know I can.  What makes it so good?  What does Faulkner have that I don't?  I'll fight him over this.  No I won't, I haven't got the strength or nerve.  I want to write, I want to be wonderful.  My original stuff lags, my fan stuff dies.  I write for myself, I write for other people.  I lose heart when I lose other people because I use them, I use others for support.  Writing brings a relief, but with without recognition it's all just masturbation.  I want to be shared.  For the next few hours I pledge to write.  I will write and I will not be stopped.  I will post.

Finals

I think I'm done now.  This pleases me.  I have no art skill.  This saddens me.  I have coke and peanut butter/jelly sandwiches.  This feeds me.  Sort of.  In an unspecific and overly general fashion. 

Rp death

Last night Court died.  For about ten seconds.  Court is my tank character, my first combat, melee intensive character in an rp.  I like him a lot.  Last night we had our first adventure in the actual storyline.  We had been working a caravan as guards.  After six sessions we finally made enough money and collected enough caravans to start a trading company.  The other company(Enoch Trading Company) is not happy about this. 

Rather longCollapse )

.My experience with MLP:FiM

My Little Pony, a show for girls.  My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, a show for everyone.  Well sort of.  I am not going to bother with explaining stuff.  Here's the thing.  I watched it and I liked it.  It's a kid show that doesn't make me feel dumber for spending the time watching it.  I also don't regret the time spent which has been happening a lot lately.  It's cliched, it's not entirely original, it's ok. 

However, here's the kicker.  The show is ok but I am in love with the fandom.  These people can be so creative, they have taken little screenshots and expanded them into the most heartwarming characters, they've built a world of their own that spreads beyond the barriers of canon.  I admit, Ditzy is my favorite, her and her filly Dinky just make me so happy.  Pierce Smoulder is brilliant in Doctor Whooves and I love listening to the show.  Then there's the music.  Not just the show music but fan remixes, fan original songs, it's glorious.  Speaking of, DJ Pon-3 and Octavia are great.  DJ Pon-3 and Ditzy are two fan bits that made it into the real shows canon.  It's great what people can do. 

I'm going to make a comic.  It will be comic-y.  I can't do art.  It will be poorly made or copied from a generator.  Allow me to demonstrate
See More...Collapse )

Someday I hope to have a My Skill 1.0 for the comic but maybe I should live in copy paste.

Day 2 of NaNo

It's half past one on day two of Nano, am by the way.  I have written nothing unless you call the work of fiction I created today in the guise of an actual experiment test.  I also discovered today that I am 5200 dollars in the hole.  I'm not sure what I'm going to do about this.  I opened the box set of the Southern Vampire series today, some of you may know it better as the series that became True Blood.  It's the first seven books and I bought it a year or two ago.  I did like the series but the library never had them in the order I wanted to read them, this was when Twilight reigned and all vampire books were flying off the shelves.  I don't know what to write.  I don't know what to do with my life.  I don't think I can be a teacher.  I'm not smart enough for it.  I think I may be autistic.  I've never thought about this before but now that Intro to Special Ed has forced me to look closer at all disabilities I have found that most of the autism symptoms in a child match me when I was young.  They haven't changed too much either.  You know me, the first thing I did was go off to take some online tests.  I know to take those with a grain of salt but the grains of salt said I'm not autistic despite being around double the average score. 

I need to write a story and it may be Third Genesis.  I need to write a story but I have nothing to say.  I need to make money but I have nothing of worth.  That's a lie.  I could sell tons of things, I could make some easy cash but that won't happen.  I am being over dramatic.  I could work fast food.  I don't think I could live off that though, support a family, even support myself.  Let alone pay my debts.  I went to college because I want to learn.  I've learned that after two years of no content I can still see most of my old friends and it was like I never left.  Two years and there was nothing.  Am I really that small of a blip in other people's radar?  My fiction seems to think so.  The shitty fanfic I wrote is sitting with another post half done.  At a Loss hasn't been looked at in months, maybe even years. 

You know what scares me most?  There's a song by They Might Be Giants called Older.  I still have this song on my computer and I don't know why.  It scares the hell out of me.  I'm afraid of time I think.  Time travel may eventually exist in some form or another and let's avoid the theories of plausibility entirely.  The point is, no matter where you go in time that is time spent.  You can't get it back.  A time traveler could go all over the universe, visit hundred if not thousands of days in history but time is still passing laterally for her.  She will get old and die no matter how far back she goes.  If I wrote on this I think I might die myself.  I don't like depressing stories without hope.  Why do my romance stories end in tragedy?  Why do my heroes throw their lives and souls away?  Why does it hurt?

http://youtu.be/q2bo_u_YmW8

An email got longer and I like to whine.

I rather dislike my literary
theory teacher.  She is wrong.  She is very wrong.  Worse than that, she
thinks she's interesting.  She's only slightly better than gangster rap
and if you don't know my feelings on that, I think it's a bit pointless
though I realize some people find meaning in it.  We've covered a good
number of theories in the class.  We started with a few minutes on what
liberal humanism is and why its only significance as a theory is that it
was first.  In Structuralism I learned that a book cannot be enjoyed or
understood without knowing the context within which it was written,
time, place, government, weather, etc.  Post Structuralism apparently
decided Structuralists were pansies and needed more structure.  They
also liked to look into the word choice for every meaning
that could be dredged out of it.  In Postmodernism people decided to
throw shit at the wall and do away with things like clear ideas.  Books
were more like poetry, poetry was more like nonsense, and the focus was
on feelings more than content.  I felt confused so mission
accomplished.  We skipped Psychoanalytic criticism because Freud was a
hack and nobody follows that one anymore.  We read Feminist Criticism
which made the women manly and the men stupid and shallow.  It also made
me want to hit a woman, specifically the teacher, and say "This is
silly.  Stop it."  Then came Queer theory which confused me because I've
been told that queer is offensive now, whatever.  In Queer theory I
learned that everyone was gay and if I didn't agree that was ok because
they were gay anyway.  Today was Marxism and I was kicked out of class. 
I haven't sworn in this, I find that odd.  I usually cuss up a
storm.
Further discussion
So
we've gone over what I've learned, or what I haven't as the case may
be.  I believe that my trouble with this class stems from the subject
matter.  I do not agree with these theories.  There are a few bits I can
pick out but there is nothing concrete in there, not even a majority
that I can use as a label like I do for my political stance.  The one I
felt most in tune with was Liberal Humanism, the one that had no worth. 
The reason for it was that it seemed to think that a book ought to be
timeless and not require any knowledge of anything outside of the book. 
This may be impossible, but it is the sort of impossible dream that I
have.  Timelessness.  Of course that theory is worthless, let's move on
to the gay.  Well no thank you teacher, I do not want to move on to the
gay.  When I first read The Merchant of Venice I
did not think Antonio and Bassanio were gay.  I can understand why you
might think they are though.  I've met my fair share of yaoi fangirls
who
will pair up any character who turn any feeling other than
complete anonymity into burning passion.  That's no reason to shove your
theory down my throat though, also please do not ask why I say
something when I'm giving you the answer you said earlier.  The answer
to your why will not be worth listening to.
I
understand why I was kicked out today.  I wasn't sociable, I hadn't done
the reading, I fell asleep.  That last one probably did it.  I'm not
really angry about that, it's just another ember on the smoldering fire
of my growing hatred and fury.  I was up all night writing the paper due
in your class.  I haven't had a good night sleep in awhile now since in
the last seven days I've
had five papers due.  I have a large test on monday
for a class that I'm really struggling in, a big project for the other
class I have on monday that makes me think teaching might be a slightly
worse option than cutting my wrists, a paper on tuesday
and thursday, I put those together because they're papers for the same
class.  Two in a week for one class, what kind of sadistic person would
do that?  Wednesday I have a little free time to spend with friends
though I do have another round of the class I struggle with.  Friday is a
paper and here's a surprise, next Saturday I have another paper and a test.  You know what the test is, it's a paper written in class. 
Here's
another thing.  I have to do volunteer work at schools, I need thirty
hours.  Teacher wants us to spend time with special ed kids, but ones
like you'll be teaching when you're a teacher.  I'll be teaching
literature, possibly even writing.  If the child cannot spell his or
her own name then I don't see how these two things connect.  Besides, I
can't work in schools without my fingerprints getting into the system. 
It's been two months and nothing yet.  Forty dollars thank you very
much, I do wish they'd hurry. 
So excuse
me for falling asleep in your class, life has been going very oddly
lately.  I'm sorry I could not do the reading.  Oh, speaking of
readings, what do you mean "only ten pages"?  It's sixteen pages, but
not just sixteen, no.  It is sixteen pages of thick British textbook on
literature theories that doesn't distinguish where the history lesson
stops and the theory ends.  It's pretty substantial.  And if I remember
correctly, you also said that you wanted us to "reread The Merchant of Venice after
every theory
reading".  That is seventy five pages on its own.  so forgive me if I
did not read your ninety-one pages this week.  Forgive me if I couldn't
manage that with all my other work.  Forgive me if I was still stuck on
Feminist Criticism after reading it several dozen times as I wrote the
paper.  Or don't.  I don't care.  I think you're an unpleasant,
argumentative shrew. 
Oh,
and I'm pretty sure that no, men in Shakespeare's time did not all have
men to go have sex with.  In fact, I find the fact that you said they
did not have mistresses to cheat on their wives with as a precursor
almost unbelievably foolish.  There were assuredly gay men in England
back then.  They most assuredly had male lovers even if they were
married.  All men are not the same as some men.  There were assuredly
men who had a mistress on the side, proving your statement false in one
fell swoop.  There also must have been some men completely loyal to
their wives.  Further dismantling your cage of ignorance.  Also, despite
what you may think, the ancient Greeks did not all go about sodomizing
young boys.  Sorry to burst your bubble.

Of Ponies and Men

So last night I dreamed about ponies sort of.  I have fought the spreading pony obsession and I lasted a good long time.  I only watched the first two episodes, I avoided the fanart.  Anyway, I did a lot o stuff but I could not avoid the music.  The songs were silly of course but then the fans did their own pony songs and the fans have skills.  I listened to more music, I began watching pmvs, and now I'm sucked in.  I have eight tabs open to MLP fanfiction.  Doctor Whooves, The Dresden Files, Fallout, Metro 2033, there are weird crossover ideas.  I'm all over it. 

Last night I had a strange dream, obviously.  Weird things happened but I can't remember most of them.  I met a guy and we traveled the world.  I took him to meet new people, show him new places.  I disappeared in Africa and took over as the new guy.  I met missionaries, I helped with animals on the savannah.  It came to a close when I was spending time with a small girl on a carrier ship.  I was telling her the story of my travels.  A shipping crate fell and I threw her out of the way.  I was no longer the man, I was an eye in the sky.  He had disappeared, nobody could find him.  Deep underwater he was fighting a shark.  He escaped it and rose to the surface to find himself on the beach where his adventure began.  As he swam back to shore he began to reminisce about what he went through.  As he thought of each one and the lessons they had taught it was all ponies in a great hall.  Finally he hit land and stood up.  He looked around and took a deep breath before moving forward.  Then I woke up.


Also, this helped my obsession.

I'm about

I admit to not posting much, I won't blame it on school though.  Things have not been going bad but they haven't been worth talking about.  I'm regretting my choice to become a teacher, I don't have the spark for it.  I'm rather pathetic. 

Writer's Block: On the red carpet

Are you watching the Emmys tonight?


Is that tonight?

Their all dead

It's down to one fighter, the child, the soccer player with a broken ankle, the coach, and the friendly fighter. The first fighter's going to go down soon, the player is not going to be much help. The Coach is actually one of them and the friendly fighter is talking with him, waiting for the coach to throw the first attack. The child is doing something and somehow has accessed the files of his supergenius grandfather. My god, I hate waking up.

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