Therapeutic Ramblings.

So, things have been going very well for me. I finished a short story and I've mailed it off--regardless of whether it's accepted, that is something that I very rarely do and I'm proud that I've accomplished my goal. I have another story I need to edit, but I've got the itch to be creative, so I'm trying to write another short story first. I've got an idea, but it's a bit difficult to pull off so far. I had a bit of luck yesterday--if I didn't break through my writer's block, I at least shoved it a few yards away from me.

Besides writing, though, things have been going very well for me. Last semester was an exercise in torture, depression, endurance, and...just...bad things. I was still recovering from car accident, I probably should have taken a semester off, but I didn't want to fall behind--I wanted to make sure I could graduate on time so that I could take care of Darling Dearest. Because of my decision, I was basically taking two semesters at once. I took all 3 of my major education classes in the same go, so I was loaded down with a full schedule, PLUS make up work from the previous semester, PLUS another extra 20 hours of teacher observations due by the end of the semester. It was...hard, to say the least.

After all of that work, I still only failed one class. I have never failed a class. This was a devastating blow to me.

This semester, however, I am doing much better. I'm re-taking the class I failed, and with my other classes, I owed 1 more extra credit hour. I worried about that one hour--I was afraid I'd have to stay an extra semester and graduate late and become what they jokingly call a "super senior" (a senior who has stayed an extra semester or year--which apparently happens A LOT here). It was nothing to worry about, though. I checked with my adviser, and I am now working on our university's literary journal. WHOO! This is fantastic because 1) it's work I really love, and 2) it's exactly 1 hour--just what I need.

Financially, despite a rough summer where I worked at a fast food restaurant, burned my hand, burned my eye lid, and had to buy expensive new shoes that worked no better than the ones I had, we are now much better off. I lost my scholarship (because of the 1 failed class...ever...) but I got enough other financial aid to not only take care of my debts, but also give me much much money in a refund.

With all of that said, I'm still worried. Things have been going to so well, but I still have to take a few tests that will qualify me to get my license to teach. This worries me because the one that's vital for my internship next semester is my content knowledge. If it were English--writing and grammar, I wouldn't be too worried, but it also includes literature. Since the English literary world is thousands of years old, I'm starting to panic. I've already read Catcher in the Rye, so now I'm going through and reading/rereading classics that I don't feel I read well enough for my exams. Jane Austen, I'm about to get to know you very well. Mark Twain, we're gonna become chums. F. Scott Fitzgerald, you and I will boogie our way through the Jazz Age, and I better get my hands on some William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, and John Steinbeck soon, too, I guess. I'm also gonna read Dracula, possibly the Invisible Man, and Lord of the Flies. So...much...reading.

Of course, this is my panic state. Probably an over-reaction, but I feel so vitally unprepared for what I'm about to undertake. I'll probably calm down in a few days/weeks, but then I have another heap of problems and that's where I'll be living when I become a teacher. Originally, the plan was to stay here where my wife could continue her education, but we're thinking of transferring to a slightly bigger town/metropolis area where one of my best friends lives. I'd LOVE to move there, but I'm nervous I won't get hired, and where I get hired dictates where I'll live, and where I live has to be decided before school restarts in the fall and AND AND--

*sigh* Deep breath, dude. We can do this.

Right...so...that's where I stand right now. This is mostly just therapeutic ramblings on my part. I'm sure (read, I hope) I'll figure everything out and everything will turn out okay.

Okay...I better sign off before I make this any longer. Cheerio!

A Frigid, Soggy Friday

So, how about this weather, eh? Well, those of us in the south, anyway, are experiencing the craziest winter in a while. It's currently 12 degrees Fahrenheit (I can never get that on the first try...yet another reason why we should switch to Celsius!) outside. It's been a long time since it's been this cold, and the wind chill factor is making it as low as -5 degrees outside. Now, I find this a tad bit unfair. All these years, when I was in school and praying to any deity in control of the weather that would listen, it would never snow. Or it would snow a smattering--enough to make the roofs and the grass white, but never touch to roads. This year, when I DO NOT want it to snow because my fiance is in the hospital in a town several miles on a curvy, woodsy road away, the weather threatens to snow every other frickin' day. This shows a cruel sense of humor on Nature's part. Surely she should realize that I've got important places to be--I already missed my check up on my pelvis thanks to this ridiculous weather.

On the other hand, this weather sort of cheers me up. I worry about global warming, and looking at the thermometer and seeing "12^F" is a nice little assurance that we're not quite as far along to Hell in our hand-basket as I thought.

On another note, I think that our family is cursed. I don't know if our house is on an Indian burial ground, if maybe we hit an old gypsy with our car, or maybe denied some crazy old lady an extension on her house payments, but somehow we have crossed some spirit we should not have crossed.

Just when things start settling down, I learn that my scholarship was revoked because I "didn't complete the number of hours necessary to keep it." Nevermind that I contacted everyone and told everyone important that I was in a wreck, could not return until the next semester, and contacted all of professors thusly. Thankfully, with a little persistence, I managed to get it back.

In addition to that, my brother came home to see water gushing from the house. Since our house hasn't been on anti-depressants in years, he figured it wasn't crying. Nope, turns out a pipe burst in the ceiling in one of our rooms. Hooray flooding! It flooded the kitchen as well as the laundry room. So we'll have to get that fixed tomorrow.

C'mon 2010, you gotta do better than this. Don't you want all of us to talk about how much better you are than that crappy 2009?

On a much brighter note (and the third edit so far) I am pretty much positive that I will transferring dorms. The cool thing is, this is less a dorm and more a private apartment. It has a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom, and is the bomb-diggity. It'll still have the luxury of a meal plan should I have no food in the house, but also have the advantage of being able to cook super healthy meals for myself whenever I want. I don't have everything squared away yet, but I'm very, very excited.

So how has your week been?

(By the way, how do you like the new template? I think a new year is always a nice time for some redecoration. I also have a new template for the main site as well, although I was looking for one a bit snazzier, but it's hard to find good free website templates. Oh, if only I had a web designer.)

Revenge of Lobster Man

How did I get here again? I'd like to say that I made some kind of horrible mistake, and I'm reaping the consequences of my actions, but that wouldn't be true. This is one time where I am not to blame for the misfortune that has befallen me, it is simply sorrow delivered straight from the Universe.

No, I didn't perform scientific experiments revolving around the genetics of lobsters and humans resulting in a super powered lobster man to rampage through my lab and nearby town in a furious rage on a quest to understand his origins. That would be way more interesting.

Thursday was my day off. To celebrate my day off, my friends and I -- and My Darling Dearest -- packed up and headed off to a swimming hole that we know of. It took a while to get there. My brother, who came along, thought we were fooling him when we told him you had to climb rocks to get there. We weren't. We were actually underplaying it a bit. It's a pretty hard hike to get to this swimming hole -- over enormous rocks cliffs.

Once there, I put on enough sunblock to fill the ozone layer and protect the Earth for the next 30,000 years. Then I went swimming. Then we ate lunch. Then I put on even more sunblock. I was literally dripping with it at one point, and I asked my girlfriend to aid me in the quest of rubbing it all in. We're both significantly Irish, so we burn easily. We knew the dangers.

Anyway, by the end of the day, which had resulted in about five hours of swimming, we headed back. It was hot. So hot, as a matter of fact, we all almost passed out. My face started going numb, so we all got back in the water -- a different spot, since we were on the hike on the way home -- to drop our body temperature some. By the time we got back, we were all thankful to be alive.

However, since then I have learned of the price I paid for my desire to continue shuffling along on this mortal coil. My ears, face, and back are sunburned raw, and my shoulders are so sunburned I have hundreds of blisters popping up. It hurts to move, and shirts are things worn only in the most dire of situations. Nobody else got it that but, just me and Oh Dearest One. She got it just as bad as I did.

I missed work Friday because it was so bad, and while it's improved since then, I'm not looking forward to going back to work today just so I can see the little tykes and have them slap me on my burns. By the way, it's "Wet and Wild" themed week at work...yippee dee. I get to be outside in the baking hot sun for hours on end. And I have to go to a water theme park on Wednesday with the kids. Even more time spent outside...

As if that wasn't bad enough, I got a TB test on Monday. On Wednesday, I was supposed to have it checked, but my boss left for the day and left me in charge, so i couldn't leave. So now I have to start all over!! I hate needles, and now I have to do it again...and then again b/c if you haven't had a TB test in 2 years, they make you take two...

Wake me up when this week is over, okay?

The Bates Motel

Gather round ye lads and lasses and I'll spin you a tale of misery and woe. For on this trip that was such a dreary occasion, the Rayburn family was expecting to have some fun. Unfortuantely, it was not in the cards. The family set out, soon to find that the tv that was expected to work in the van, did not. The movies brought along were useless, as were the video games, and time began to slow. Music can only occupy for so long, and with only one device to listen on, the children were soon sqwabbling over who would get it next, and for how long. Ye it was a long drive, and one taken with few bathroom breaks, as the highway department had apparently been studying our heroes trip, and new to remove all bathrooms, or directions to them.

After much whining and biting of heads, our troop did stop at a quant little inn. Ignoring the ominous skulls and spears and vultures skulking about the premises they went ahead and booked rooms for the whole week. Oh woe, for little they could guess the terror that awaited them. The young manager introduced himself as Norman, a kindly young man, if a bit on the odd side. It seemed odd that he sold weaponry as well as cars and rooms to stay in -- almost as if he were providing one with all they would need for a dastardly night on the town.

Once in the room, the fabulous family was greeted with a shocking sight, one that left them depressed and downtrodden. The walls were dirty, the lights were non-working or dim, the room did swelter, the bathroom was effing freezing, but bearing a forced grin the fam did drop bags and prepare for nighttime. The oldest boy Rayburn, Jason his name was, did learn another horrible truth. Apparently, back problems are a favorite for the fates to play games with, and Jason learned that his back would sing a glorious ode to pain, as the mattresses were built like square bowls, everything sloping toward the middle.

Ye while the beds were unfortunate enough for our heroes, the fates had more in store. For what did Jason find when he rose in the night for a Tums, why bugs invading the room. Much worse than the run-of-the-mill-bug, these bugs were decended from the Huns. They raced in carrying spears and daggers, swords flashing and knashing their teeth. Many a one had a moustache that reached to the floor, which they enjoyed to twirl while they sneered at our tasty looking family of the world. Having slept almost none and already awake, Jason's mother rose to help him find the antacid since he didn't pack the medicine and had no flipping clue where anything that he needed was, but ye, she was ready for the surprise onslaught. Armed with a can of bugspray and a swatter of flies, she beat the demons back to their hole, where they would tend their wounds and plot revenge.

Once Jason had returned to his bed, he learned sleep would dance out of his grasp for the remainder of the night, for lo, did the bathroom grumble and hiss. It seemed the toilet never stopped flowing, and the mystery hidden in the walls threw a festival next to his ear. But surely, if that was enough, more still came to plague him. For while he tried to block out the noises of the room, he heard worse noises still. People in the next room did socialize, with their video boxes blaring loud and true, defiant of what decent people have dubbed "quiet time." What's more, they had kids, who delighted in stomping and screaming and yelling. When the neighbors weren't creating it, the traffic outside would unload noise at the most inopportune times. A fleet of diesels and an armada of motorcycles traveled the road that night, and Jason was awake to count every one.

By dawn the next morn, our heroes were ready to flee from the Bates Motel. They rallied each other from their uncomfortable sleep, and packing their bags in a manic frenzy, canceled the rest of the stay and ran for the hills, to a shining home-away-from-home on a hill, a blessed promise land known as Helluvalotbetter, where they would reside for the remainder of the trip.

Next time, lads and lasses, I shall spin ye more webs of the Rayburn woes, including the Tale of the Stingy Shed Ogre, and the Incredible Shifting Town of Nowhere.

What Kind Of People Do I Attract?*

* Everything I'm about to tell you is 100% true. I didn't make any of these stories up.

______________

One of my friends recently sent me a quiz: "What Kind of People Do You Attract?" I took it two different times and got two different answers. Apparently I attract Geeks and Yuppies, depending on my mood. I'm fine with attracting Geeks. Geeks are awesome. Yuppies . . . I don't know. Well, from what I've seen today, I'm starting to wonder if I don't attract nutjobs as well.

At lunch today, I had a choice of cheese covered mush, hamburgers floating a yellowish, bubbly liquid, a hot dog shaped something, or pizza. So, fearing for my stomach, I went into the pizza line.

Because my friends and I were there earlier than usual, the lunchroom was more crowded than we were used to. I sighed inwardly when some muscle bound shmuck in a backwards cap and a striped shirt took the last piece of any of the pizza. That meant I'd have to wait in line for more, but, considering the alternative, it wasn't that bad.

While I was standing there with my hands in my pockets, waiting on the people to bring out some pizza, I had a total stranger walk up to me. He looked at me and frowned with concern. I was concerned too -- when someone you don't know is concerned about you, you should probably be concerned too. Then, he told me, "I hate to tell you this, but I'm afraid Buddha wants to steal your soul."

My first reaction was WTF?, but I've had experience with crazy people before** and I didn't want to offend the looney, so I responded with, "Thanks for the warning."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. I had encouraged him. He moved out of his line (the sandwich/hamburger line) and stood next to me and replied, "I only warn you because...he's Buddha! You don't know what he can do!"

Fearing that this person might take my polite response as an invitation for friendship, I replied "Yeah, man. Thanks. I'll keep my eye out."

Thankfully, that's all he needed to hear, because he nodded and wandered back into his own line talking to someone he knew -- or maybe some other poor chap -- saying, "Yeah, it's all a big conspiracy theory."

That was really the only eventful thing that happened today, but it was enough to make me wonder.

________

** A guy I used to work with at my old job told me all kinds of stories -- he had buried treasure, his house being built on an indian burial ground (and that meant his house was haunted by the angered souls), he had fought demons, etc. One of his most memorable stories was when he told me his hand was possesed by a demon, and the only way he could exorcise it was to slice it open . . . luckily an angel healed it or he would have bled to death. On a side note, I was very happy to quit that job.

Submission and Opening Pandora's Box

As many of you know, I finally got the guts up to mail off a couple of my short stories for publication. Yesterday, I mailed it off.

I was going to mail them off on Saturday, but we wound up not going to town until the post office had already closed. Since the mail didn't run on Sundays I had to wait until Monday to mail them off. In the mean time, I started researching magazines, because one of the first things I realized was you can't sell a short story if you don't know what market to send it to.

I found some that were perfect, but then I decided I needed to go through one last time and make sure everything was square. Since it was for real this time, since it was for all the bannanas, I wanted to make sure that I had caught all the grammer mistakes, that I had fixed all the parts where the writing was weak, blah blah. What I didn't realize was that, by examining the stories for just a moment, I opened Pandora's box.

I saw one thing that didn't work. No, two. No, three. Now, four. Five? Six? What were they, multiplying? At one point I was so delirious that I swear, when I looked at the page, I saw the words fornicating and creating more and more errors and mistakes.

In horror, I set out with my trusty pen and began hacking and slashing, fixing errors and repairing typos, changing parts of the story that didn't seem to work, or fleshing out areas that needed more fleshing. I must have cost us a small fortune in paper and ink, and I'm sure everyone in my family read them five times, if not more. I apologized to my mom over and over and over again about all the trouble I was putting everyone through. Bless my mom's heart, by the end of the evening, she was probably more frazzled about the mailing than I was.

Finally, I got the last draft done, a few errors had to be fixed but nothing major. Then I stressed on printing out address labels, making sure the addresses were perfect and the right SASE (Self-Addressed, Stamped Envelope to those of you who -- like I did -- have no clue what a "SASE" is) with the right manuscript envelope, and finally, I crashed into bed at one in the morning, exhausted from stressing so much.

The next morning, I woke up at around 7:30 -- the usual time for me on the weekdays -- but by 10:00 I was already exhausted. I had hardly slept the night before; I was still worrying about the manuscripts. So I decided to take a nap. At noon I woke up in horror, my heart pounding, because I realized a few pages from one of my manuscripts still had writing on them from errors I had to fix, and I hadn't printed out the new pages to replace them. I flew to my laptop and, in a frenzy, I fussed with it until every page was perfect.

Then, I had another problem. Paperclips! I needed paperclips! Everyone knows you can't mail off a manuscript without paperclips!!! So then I had to search the house for paperclips. We were out! So I called my mom and had to have my brother pick up paperclips from her work so that I could mail them off.

So then, I finally had to go to the post office. The last time I went, I had made a simple mistake -- I thought I had grabbed all the money in my pocket to buy stamps, but I had forgotten a nickel, so then the old, bald man behind the desk had to look at me like I was an idiot and tapped his fingers impatiently after saying, "If you don't have more than that you're not getting any," while I searched for the missing, elusive nickel.

With that event still fresh in my mind, I felt my chest tighten. I didn't know what to buy or what stamps or how many I'd need. What if I messed up? What if I didn't get enough postage and then they got sent back, and then I'd have to wait even longer for a resonse. What if there was a line at the post office and, after running out of patience with my doddering around with my little stories, they rioted and sacrificed me on a table made of postage stamps and Express Mail boxes.

My heart pounded as I approached the desk. I cleared my throat and said, in a pitifully soft voice, "Ma'am, I'm here to mail these. I'll need a lot of stamps."

She smiled at me sweetly and looked at the envelopes. Then, she helped me buy giving me four stamps for the SASE, a book of stamps for home (because we were out) and then weighing and putting the proper stamps and their proper number on each package.

When I finally paid and left, my hands were cold, clammy, and shaky. I had done it. I had finally done it. I mailed off my stories, I submitted a manuscript...something I'd heard on author's blogs and biographies all my life, but never actually thought I'd do.

I drove in a daze, not really taking in anything that I saw as I drove. I got home and collapsed onto the couch.

A short story is only a fragment of what a novel would be. Just the thought of making sure every page of the novel was mistake-free makes me break out in cold chills. Not to mention, all this horror, all the ink and effort and stress and strain, and I still won't hear from them for months, and when I do, it may not (probably won't) be a "yes."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go dig my stuffed tiger "Hobbes" from my closet, fix myself a cup of hot cocoa, and curl up underneath my bed covers and hide from the Big Scary World.

Preparation

The other day I was watching TV, and I saw an advertisment for a new movie coming out. It's called The Bucket List. I immediately wanted to see it, because it starred Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, and they're both "must watches" on my list. The premise of the movie is supposed to be that these two old guys get together to do all the stuff on their "Bucket List" -- a list of things they want to do before they kick the bucket. It looks hilarious.

But, since I've been watching more movies and stuff lately, because I missed out on some serious TV watching in college (we almost never watch any), I started thinking about something I want to do. I want to make a "Bucket List," but it would be a bit more practical.

In movies, often times, people get put into the most extreme of situations, but situations where, if they knew one skill or another, they'd fare much better. For example, in Poseidon, everyone flocked to the guy from the...Navy I believe, but it may have been the Marines...because he knew so much about survival and ships and stuff like that. But Kurt Russel's character was a fire fighter, so he wasn't really a pansy either. And yet another character got things done because he used to be on the swim team.

So here's my idea, I'll spend my life learning all these little things, little, silly skills so that, when the time comes, I will be a survival god. I'll learn sword fighting, fencing, all the different martial arts styles, I'll learn speed reading, I'll train to lift tons of weight, yet be fast as a bullet. I'll train to power swim, I'll learn the architecture of buildings and ships, I'll learn the best ways to escape in a situation, and even pro-wrestling.

Imagine, stuck on a sinking ship? I'll get out. I'm a power swimmer and I know all the ins and outs of ships and submarines. What? Zombies are banging down my front door? That's okay, I know all kinds of ways to keep food fresh, purify water, building handy useful things from virtually nothing, like MacGuyver, and I'm a marksman with any weapon. Even if they break into my hiding place, I'll take them out with my mad shooting skills.

What? I'm transported into the past during the middle of a war? No problem, I know tons of different fighting techniques and weapon styles, I'll have it covered.

Sure you could call it extreme paranoia, but I prefer to call it being prepared.

Day Two And The Resolutions Are Falling Apart Already

Well, I think I'm gonna have to set some goals and be specific, because so far, the goals are falling apart. I've resolved to write more, finish some short stories, come up with more story ideas, and start running every morning. I've had some story ideas, but the rest of the goals have been iffy.

I ran today, but that's the first time for several days. I've learned that when the temperature when you wake up is 12 degrees, it's best to wait a few hours before you go running, and give the air a chance to warm up. By the time I came back, I suspected I had frost bite on my ears, my hands, and several other placed I would prefer not have it.

I've had a couple of story ideas, but I've just been letting them slosh around while I finish the story I'm working on. I'm not plotting this one, just letting it go and see how things go. This is just an experiment. I mapped and planned and sucked all the fun out of writing trying to get every little detail down, so now I'm going organic-ish for my stories to see if I can make it more fun.

Two problems with that:

1. It makes for getting stuck to be very easy.
2. When you get stuck, it makes it easier to procrastinate.
3. Procrastination leads to no writing.
4. That's bad for my goals.

So I need to find a happy medium, where I can plot out and know how things are going, but also leave room for loosey-gooseyness and fun.

Anyway, how's the new year going for everyone else so far?

It's Been A While

Whoo, it's been a serious while, hasn't it? I opened up this thing and I swear, it was like opening one of those old boxes in the attic that you keep because you want to look back later and reminice. You know, every now and then, you add something new before you bury it in boxes and dust. Just a second ago, I think I saw a virtual spider attacking a helpless family of flies.

Sorry, I'm feeling rusty. I've disappeared, because college life is not as easy as it looks on TV (who would have thought?), but I think things are gonna work out okay. It was a rough ride, though.

Damn it all, I missed Halloween. Here, there was nothing, but this coming weekend my friends are having a very belated Halloween party, and that should be fun. Nothing like Halloween in November. I wonder if that's like Christmas in July? Thanksgiving is coming soon, the perfect chance to eat a whole hell of a lot and spend the next three days suffering from the side-effects of making yourself look like a pig. I can't wait. It will be the first Christmas with my best friend, and I'm sure he'll get a kick out of my uncle, he's quite the character.

Let's see, what comes after Thanksgiving? New Years Eve, April Fools Day, Groundhog Day...oh yeah, CHRISTMAS! Oh, I can't wait for that one. I've already started shopping, ha ha. I'm definitely NOT one of those last minutes shoppers.

If I used to go to your blogs, I'd love you to post the link to them in the comments. Both my laptop and my desktop at home had to get wiped out, and I lost all my links that I've been collecting for the better part of four years. *sigh* I was sad to see it go. That was a nightmare. My laptop was littered with errors that brought up a pretty striped screen of death. It turns out it was the graphics card, but that was before we wiped out my computer. It probably needed it, but I would have liked to have had a backup record of links and files that are now spiraling into the abyss.

Then, my desktop got a pretty worm virus on it and I had to wipe out the entire thing. That pissed me off a little, because that computer was the dumping ground. It had EVERYTHING I loved on it. All my old stuff, old stories from the sixth grade, essays I wrote to get into college, songs lyrics, music sheets, drawings, lots of stuff, gone in an instant. But that'll teach me. I should back up my stuff.

Oh, and in other news, it's NaNoWriMo! For those of you who want some fun, Lynn Viehl has some great stuff on her site in the archives, and she usually posts every year. More news on NaNoWriMo when I get some. I never participate because I never have the time to dedicate that it requires. I barely have time to write as it is.

Anyway, that's all my catching up for now. How's everyone else?

Exhausted Thursday's Doodles

Okay, so let me fill you in on where I've been. I had a friend come over Tuesday, and I was very excited about that. It won't be long and I'll move away and leave my best friend behind. It's sad when I think about it. Anyway, then after he left yesterday, we had a very rough day. We had family problems that escalated into some very bad stuff. I won't go into details, but my family was called in as a peace keeper. I worked on my storyline, although I hit a snag I'm trying to work around. So between company, peace keeping, and trying to work around my story problems, I had very little time to doodle. I have a couple of drawings, but didn't have time to scan them, so I'm posting a picture that I sketched that's on the main site. I really like this picture. It's Garra from the anime Naruto. He's my favorite character on the show. Anyway, enjoy! Here's hoping things clear up.

The Three D's: Doubt, Depression, and Disgust**

Okay, I'm going through something right now. I may just be blowing this out of proportion, but I'll just rant here. Maybe I'll feel better.

Today I tried to re-plot my novel. You remember Jivtor, and all the trouble I had with that story, right? Well, I'm still having trouble. Maybe I should just kill the story, I dunno, or leave it and come back to it. Let me explain, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Lately, I haven't really been in the mood to write. Everytime I look at the page, I get up and do something else. I try to run through things to get my novel going. I always have a pretty good start, but not long after that, I just fizzle out. I don't know what to put in the middle. All my plots always fizzle out by then. I've tried a thousand different ideas, and I just don't know what to do. It's not just this story either, I'm just learning it on this one sooner than the others.

On all my other stories that I've ever started, I fizzle out about 30-40 pages in. It never fails. I never know what's going to happen to make the story progress. I've got a whole folder full of ideas that I just can't bring myself to throw away because they've got promise, I just don't know where they're going. The difference between those stories, and my current two isn't much. On the current two that I'm writing, I've tried plotting out what happens instead of just writing by the seat of my pants. Apparently, my butt can't write. So anyway, most of the advice I've ever heard says, "If you're fizzling out in the middle, then you should try plotting it out. It's not like it's set in stone, and you can always change something, but it gives you an idea of where to go." The problem? I can't think of anything to put in the middle, even when I'm plotting it out.

At first I thought this problem might be the genre I write in. Maybe fantasy, as much as I love it, just isn't my thing. Maybe I should write something else. But it doesn't matter what genre I write in, the problem is the same. I can never think of what should happen to the person. Maybe I just don't have a theme that's defined enough? Maybe I don't have my story developed enough? Maybe I should just pack up all my writings, all my papers and research and books on writing, and my computer, dig a big hole in the backyard, dump my stuff in there, cover it in gasoline and watch it burn while dancing naked around the blaze chanting Native American war chants...*sigh*.

And it's not just that anymore. Now I'm terrified that if I try to drop these stories, like I did all the others, maybe I'll run out of ideas. So the situation is: I can't work on the stories I have because I hate all the ideas that I come up with--they're too weak, there's not enough of them, they're not interesting, they're just filler scenes, etc; I'm afraid that if I leave these that I'll never end my streak of starting novels and never finishing them; I'm afraid that I just don't have what it takes to be a writer; I'm afraid that I'll eventually just run out of ideas because I can never finish one and I'll use them all up.

I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Is it normal for writers to go through this sort of thing? Is it normal for them to question giving it up and working as a door-to-door vacuum salesman? Is it normal for a writer to hate every idea they come up with? Is it normal for writers to eventually just think that every idea they have is trash?

*sigh* I'm going to bed.

** -- 2/3/2008 -- I fixed the title. I'm glad that someone searched my archives to find a spelling mistake from almost 7 months ago.

Home Stretch

Today was my weekly test and project in college algebra. I think I did okay, but I won't hold my breath just in case. I'm holding a pretty high C at the moment, so if I can just pass today's test, make a decent grade on my project, and pass my final I'll be in good shape.

Today is Friday, which means the Friday Snippet is being hosted on a lot of sites. I'd have participated, except I haven't been writing for several weeks, I've been doing homework. I'll have to get back into the habit, but first I gotta get this final out of the way.

Some bad news: my laptop took a dive. Apparently Windows Vista didn't agree with most of the programs on it--and they were default programs that came with the laptop. The webcam was the first to go. It only lasted a couple of days after I got it. I just shrugged it off. I mean, I've never had a webcam before, why would I need one now? Except then more programs started to fail. Windows would bring up error messages saying "An error has occured. Searching for solution." Then another would pop up and say "No solution can be found. We'll notify you when one is available." Thanks, that means so much. Except then core programs started to fail. Adobe Reader failed. Then one of the core programs in Vista--Superfetch--failed, which kicked me off the internet. Then Internet Explorer failed.

I turned the laptop over to my mom to try to fix it. She ran a check and the computer had 19 programs that Vista had blocked/had errors and had failed. She tried to configure the webcam software. The window read "configuring..." and then another window popped up that said, "Uninstall complete" and my webcam software was gone forever. Then she tried to restore it back to the day we got it. It said an error occured in the restoration process, no settings had been changed. In the hour my mom worked on it, the computer got worse. My mom tried to view the Control Panel and it closed by itself and Vista told us that an error had occured so the window had to be closed.

When mom looked back at the errors to see how many there were, it had jumped from 19 to 32*. It was like a virus, but it was Vista! We sent the computer back, got a refund and now I have a Dell laptop with XP coming in the mail. It should arrive soon, and I can forget the nightmare that was Vista, but...*shudders*...it'll be hard.

That right there is one of the reasons I seriously want a Mac. I'll get one someday, but right now I don't have near enough money. Someday. Maybe after college. But for now, I'm excited to get my Dell, and get a laptop that actually works.

So...how's you week been?

Added: Also, I'm thinking about having a weekly thing I'm gonna put on here, probably on Saturdays or Sundays because those days are hard for me to blog on. I'll be posting drawings. I don't know if I'll do it, but it's in the works. I'll let you know.

*--fixed. It didn't jump to 23, it jumped to 32.

A Story About Teachers

Well, I've completed another day of school. Barf. But it's almost over. As a friend of mine said:
"Soon we will be thrown out into the harsh cold world!!! A world where we have to fend for ourselves. Where we make car payments, electric bills, house payments, food payments, full-time job, college, homework, horrible bosses who scream at you when you drop a packet of ketchup. Won't that be awesome?!!! Wait...never mind! MOMMY!!!!! DON'T LEAVE ME!!!!"
I know how she feels.
On the much brighter front, I've written close to five pages on Clairvoyant today. I don't know what that translates into wordwise, but I'll get it typed and find out soon. Right now, I'm trying to let my mind recover. I've had to close twice in a row, and I'm still really tired. On the plus side, we passed the audit, so I won't lose my job. That's a good thing...I think, ha ha.
And now, something that came to my mind while I was in the Art room yesterday:
With a quirky smile she swaggered into the high school classroom. The room was noisy and a few crumpled balls of paper narrowly missed her head. Her smile faultered momentarily before she sat at her desk.
"Alright, shut up! That was the bell," she said, "let's get our books out and read."
Obediantly, the students stopped talking and pulled out books and began reading.
A girl with straight black hair and a Hello Kitty shirt raised her hand.
"May I go get a book, I left my book at home today."
"That's it! Detention!" the teacher shouted, slamming her hands on the table.
"What? How am I supposed to read if I don't have anything?" the girl cried in outrage.
"I don't care! Get out of my classroom!"
The girl bitterly grabbed her purse and stormed out.
Several minutes passed before another sound was made. One guy in the back of the room, Kevin, who had been sick for a week, sneezed. He had a terribly stuffy nose, and the sneeze broke whatever barrier had been keeping it in. As his nose began to drip like a faucet, he held his hands cupped in front of his face, his eyes wide in horror. He leaned over to his friend.
"Suzie, help. Do you have a Kleenex?"
Suzie chuckled silently and started to reach for her bag and her small package of Kleenex, but her hand never made it. From across the room, all the students heard the teacher rise to her feet. Legs pumping, she flew across the room and tackled Suzie. Suzie went down in a crumple, crying out in shock. Then the teacher went after Kevin.
Kevin let out a cry of shock and scrambled to get out of his desk, but the teacher was too fast. She grabbed him by the neck and hurled him across the room, letting out an animal-like growl. A group of girls screamed and scattered as Kevin crashed through the table.
"Now class," the teacher said coldly, "I said READ!!" Her eyes rolled wildly in her head and she snarled at every guy and girl darkly. All of the students trembled in terror.

The Teacher From Hell

Rated C: Common everywhere

Coming soon to a classroom near you.

Has anyone else ever had a teacher that infuriates you to no end?