Wherever via air.

I am thinking of moving away for a few months or however long it takes to write what I have in mind. I am not sure where to go. All I know is that I need inspiration.

Any suggestions?

Folly.

Perfectionism is destroying me.

My journal.

I fill my Moleskine journal with words worth reading, yet transfer none to here. I rarely think of why I write so little here, but seeing as I have not written an entry in nearly two months I am beginning to wonder.

I think part of it is fear of my insights and thoughts being stolen. When I am aiming to rely on something as liquid as words for a career, I fear that anyone could claim them if I put them here.

I also find it unnatural to split between true writing (that in my journal) and guarded writing (that which is here), so I sacrifice the less valuable; some may even say ‘worthless.’

So, what should I do with this website? Should I act as if it is primarily a website and not a public journal? I think that would be the best thing to do. That way I am not misleading those into the thought of regular updates.

Spam.

Due to a massive amount of spam that has hit this site, I have made it so that you must now register to comment. Yes, it is a bit of a pain, but it is better than having your comment buried amongst ones of gibberish and advertisements.

Anyway, this past month has been a busy one. I have much to write about and so I should be back to posting like normal soon.

Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrg.

Midterms.

My nightly haiku.

Creativity,
Peeks through the velvet curtain,
Of the ink black night.

My Twenty-First Birthday.

Yesterday was my Twenty-First Birthday and I spent it with my family and pal Stephanie. Well, mostly with Stephanie. She came over after classes and gave me two awesome books and two squishy swords which led to many epic duels; and will certainly lead to more. She also gave me a witty card which, for my ego’s sake, will not be written about here.

Later we went to Kelly O’Bryan’s for dinner with my family and I feel as if I ate my weight in pachos (they are like French fries covered in cheese and light spice with a honey mustard style dip on the side; they are amazing).  My uncle stopped by while we were eating and had a beer and gave me a warm woollen vest then he left.  Then we went home and they all sang me “Happy Birthday” and I was happy and blew out my candles.  Then we ate the yummy cake.  Then Stephanie and I did more of what we do. It was a great birthday.

Plasticine puppets.

I have just come home from my Intermediate Creative Writing class and would like to share what I wrote in it. Our assignment was create a little plasticine puppet, then to write a short narration, dialogue, or monologue for them. We had fifteen minutes to write and, using an old idea of mine for a short story, I came up with this:

Calico Gray used to stand at the centre of the room. His whole childhood he was told how talented he was; how great he will one day be. This made him believe in himself, but also made him lazy. He found his passion in piano and took lessons for a few years then quit because he lost respect for his teacher. With “genius” being the word he most attributed to himself, he set out upon the world… for a few days. Actually, he only got one audition for a fine musical college, but decided he probably wouldn’t learn anything there anyway so he did not show. For the next ten years, Calico would sometimes play piano at the local cafe. His main occupation was talk. He would talk about how amazing the piece he is composing will be, how he will be the worlds best pianist. However, he let dust decorate his keys and left his notebook blank. One night Calico passed out, drunken, in a snow storm. Someone found him and took him inside, but it was too late for his fingers. Now Calico sits in the corner sipping his soup through a straw, wishing he could play piano.

We then had to perform our writings for the class of fourteen people. Jake, our professor, had turned out all the lights and we took turns sitting beneath a single lamp that illuminated only a few feet of the room. It was wonderful!

Reviews and analysis leech my energy.

Yesterday I wrote an entry about a book which I had recently finished reading. I wrote it in a rush, not really thinking about what I was writing. The entry turned into part synopsis, part opinion, but accomplished neither well. This has reminded me of how much I despise writing reviews.

Reviews and analysis leech my energy. In fact, there is rarely a more striking time when I see how much of a creative writer I am. I will tell you that I do love analysing and critiquing, it is just the manner in which I do it that matters. I prefer conversation, where ideas flow organically so I am not bound to a word on a page. Conversation often has me thinking in ways I may not have otherwise, and has sometimes led me to totally change my opinion; which is something incredible if you know how stubborn I can be. So, I rarely bother writing in such ways.

I will have to think of some format in which I can share my opinions on books, films, music(s), because sometimes I feel as if I must communicate how much I love or hate something.

New Year’s Eve in New Orleans

Last night was my favourite New Year’s Eve since 1999. I was going to write up a short summary of the night until I noticed that my guest, Stephanie (not to be confused with my sister Stephanie whom was also there), has already written an entry on it. So I shall link to her entry here and post a picture instead.

From left to right: Stephanie, Me, Stephanie (my sister), and Emily.