Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
i took a break from writing for the day...
...not that i've been mad with creativity... oh wait, i have. sort've.
anyway, i've spent a lot of time just catching up on television series, like Doctor Who, Avatar: The Last Airbender and V. all of which turned out to be really good series, so all in all, a win.
V is everything a remake should be. great telling. impecable moderization. and after a full first season, we still haven't gotten a full lizard person reveal. good job V keeping up wanting more. and the season finale, awesome.
Doctor Who still gets better and better no matter how much i wanna say it doesn't sometimes.
and Avatar. definitely better than the James Cameron movie. it's not futuristic Pocahantas, which i can very much appreciate.
and when i put it in perspective like that, i can't help but feel, i'm getting a lot of inspiration with such great storytelling.
i guess you don't always need a book.
anyway, i've spent a lot of time just catching up on television series, like Doctor Who, Avatar: The Last Airbender and V. all of which turned out to be really good series, so all in all, a win.
V is everything a remake should be. great telling. impecable moderization. and after a full first season, we still haven't gotten a full lizard person reveal. good job V keeping up wanting more. and the season finale, awesome.
Doctor Who still gets better and better no matter how much i wanna say it doesn't sometimes.
and Avatar. definitely better than the James Cameron movie. it's not futuristic Pocahantas, which i can very much appreciate.
and when i put it in perspective like that, i can't help but feel, i'm getting a lot of inspiration with such great storytelling.
i guess you don't always need a book.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
This is why I hate repair men... and machines that need to be repaired.
Funny story: So I've been playing phone tage with the AC repair man until 11AM, when I finally talk to him. I let him know someone will be at the apartment after 3/3:30 ish. So Tiffany, being the wonderful and helpful person she is, comes back after her classes and sits in the stuffy apartyment until I get home. The repair man never shows. So I come through the door, assuming since Tiffany hasn't tweeted about the repair man coming and how we're blessed with cool air, and I am pretty mega pissed. I apologize to her that she had to waste her afternoon inside and in a hot apartment. I mini rant about the irresponsibility of a repair man that says he's gonna come by, but doesn't. Then I flip the switch for the AC, and walk outside. To my surprise, the fan that once was dead is now turning. 'Curious' I think to myself, so I walk inside and feel the vents, and I'll be damned if they weren't blowing out cold air.
So now, it's cooling off in the apartment, and I'm wondering why we didn't try to turn it on again sooner. It doesn't make sense that it wouldn't work for those three days, but then suddenly be alright... eh, oh well, at least we saved on the electric bill for a couple of months.
So now, it's cooling off in the apartment, and I'm wondering why we didn't try to turn it on again sooner. It doesn't make sense that it wouldn't work for those three days, but then suddenly be alright... eh, oh well, at least we saved on the electric bill for a couple of months.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
random super hero question...
just a simple question: since the Hulk is always, you know, angry... did he ever have to deal with ulcers?
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
beer and pizza, while delicious, especially with salt & vinegar chips, makes me feel like a fucking bloated heffer cow. i had the hardest time getting out of bed to take a shower... but that could be b/c i'm a little tired as well. time to do some sit ups, or something.
looking forward to workshop tomorrow. woot. then diner-ish with matt afterward, before his punk ass runs off to new york to be all hip hip horray as an MFA student... which kinda makes me sad and envious. oh well.
looking forward to workshop tomorrow. woot. then diner-ish with matt afterward, before his punk ass runs off to new york to be all hip hip horray as an MFA student... which kinda makes me sad and envious. oh well.
So I'm thinking about opening my own comic book shop, for serious. It'd definitely be a nice pick up from where I am here, but the downside is that I'd be rooted to area for a few years. And the last thing I need is to be stuck here, but who knows... maybe it'll be worth my while. Right now I'm just trying to think about how to make it better than all the other shops that're open around here, and my first thought was possibly opening a self publication part, in which local artists/writers could get comics published, and maybe use that as a stepping stone toward something bigger. It's a nice daydream right now, but we'll see if it pans out.
Monday, May 17, 2010
i don't keep up with this enough. not that i don't like recording places and times that i have thoughts and conversations within myself. but it seems like i only blog any more to get someone's attention when i can't just bring up the words myself.
but that's not what i'm doing now.
i've just spent hours upon hours revising one story wondering if i'm every gonna go anywhere with this shit. i just joined this writing workshop of people that've been in college for writing, and i've never taken a creative writing class outside of high school. they use this words to describe things, and i only pick up in context what they're talking about. i feel stupid most of the time. and at a huge disadvantage. in the larger scheme of things, i feel like i'm not educated enough to write, like i'm just a little boy pretending.
one of my best friends is going off and abroad (still in the U.S.) but going somewhere to develop and make himself a better writer. he graduated college for fuck sake, and what am i doing? i'm lying in bed all day, smelling like b.o. and revising a short that's most likely not going to amount to anything amazing. maybe it'll get published, i don't know. but i feel like i'm defeating myself because i never gave myself the appropriate means to expose myself to talented individuals. i feel like i've never learned anything about writing from the people who know, because, by god, they have degrees, ceritified pieces of paper that say they know what they're talking about. they've done the time, been put in print and are living the life.
then i remember why i quit. i remember what i believe in. writing isn't something taught, to me, it's something earned. you become a story teller when you have stories to tell, good and bad, happy and sad. my mind has always been weaving these things as a child. i don't need a degree, some special ink, stamped and signed, flammable parchment to tell me how good i am at something. and i don't need to go anywhere to do it. i just need to believe that i can. as retardedly after school special as that sounds. i've also been a writer, albeit lazy. and i feel that if i had gone through the program, reformatted and regurgitated what older, self important people had told me. i would've lost what made my its own. i don't wanna become pompous and worry about publication (although it would be nice). i just have things inside of me that need to get out, need to be told. it's a romantic idea, but it's true. after opening the gates, now the longer i go without writing, the more shut off and agitated i become. i'm like a dam that moans what the waters backing up because the gates are clogged.
i quit because i wasn't happy with someone telling me how to do things, teaching me labels and words describing things i knew how to do on instinct. i decided that i would go about this my way, and do things like the older authors that didn't pay money to get a title they were born with. i've spent all my time lately being slightly depressed, and envious because everyone around me is graduating college, something i should've done years ago. but that's not what i want. i want to be the dumbass that clawed my way somewhere, tooth and nail, to know i deserve where i end up, only on talent, if i have it.
that doesn't mean that i'm not proud of my friends that have chosen their own paths, and finished chapters in their own books. it just feels good to really just get it off my chest. when the modern day says you have to be educated to be an author, i just wanna prove to myself that i can do it the hard way, because i'm a stubborn jackass. and it feels good just to admit it.
but that's not what i'm doing now.
i've just spent hours upon hours revising one story wondering if i'm every gonna go anywhere with this shit. i just joined this writing workshop of people that've been in college for writing, and i've never taken a creative writing class outside of high school. they use this words to describe things, and i only pick up in context what they're talking about. i feel stupid most of the time. and at a huge disadvantage. in the larger scheme of things, i feel like i'm not educated enough to write, like i'm just a little boy pretending.
one of my best friends is going off and abroad (still in the U.S.) but going somewhere to develop and make himself a better writer. he graduated college for fuck sake, and what am i doing? i'm lying in bed all day, smelling like b.o. and revising a short that's most likely not going to amount to anything amazing. maybe it'll get published, i don't know. but i feel like i'm defeating myself because i never gave myself the appropriate means to expose myself to talented individuals. i feel like i've never learned anything about writing from the people who know, because, by god, they have degrees, ceritified pieces of paper that say they know what they're talking about. they've done the time, been put in print and are living the life.
then i remember why i quit. i remember what i believe in. writing isn't something taught, to me, it's something earned. you become a story teller when you have stories to tell, good and bad, happy and sad. my mind has always been weaving these things as a child. i don't need a degree, some special ink, stamped and signed, flammable parchment to tell me how good i am at something. and i don't need to go anywhere to do it. i just need to believe that i can. as retardedly after school special as that sounds. i've also been a writer, albeit lazy. and i feel that if i had gone through the program, reformatted and regurgitated what older, self important people had told me. i would've lost what made my its own. i don't wanna become pompous and worry about publication (although it would be nice). i just have things inside of me that need to get out, need to be told. it's a romantic idea, but it's true. after opening the gates, now the longer i go without writing, the more shut off and agitated i become. i'm like a dam that moans what the waters backing up because the gates are clogged.
i quit because i wasn't happy with someone telling me how to do things, teaching me labels and words describing things i knew how to do on instinct. i decided that i would go about this my way, and do things like the older authors that didn't pay money to get a title they were born with. i've spent all my time lately being slightly depressed, and envious because everyone around me is graduating college, something i should've done years ago. but that's not what i want. i want to be the dumbass that clawed my way somewhere, tooth and nail, to know i deserve where i end up, only on talent, if i have it.
that doesn't mean that i'm not proud of my friends that have chosen their own paths, and finished chapters in their own books. it just feels good to really just get it off my chest. when the modern day says you have to be educated to be an author, i just wanna prove to myself that i can do it the hard way, because i'm a stubborn jackass. and it feels good just to admit it.
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