Cabin Fever, Job Worries, and… SCIENCE!

Good god… when is the last time I left my apartment? I don’t mean for a walk to the nearby grocery store for milk or whatever. I mean really went out, did something either productive or fun or funductive (combining words can be fun)… It’s probably only been four days or so, but it feels like FOREVER. Yes, I’ve made decent use of the time, getting some work done, but, really, I’m going stir crazy!

Why am I trapped in my apartment? Well, I suppose I’m not technically. First there was the crazy LA rain that made me want to just stay in, and now that it’s sunny again, I’ve been feeling under the weather and figure I should take it easy and let my body heal via drinking beverages with vitamin C instead of alcohol, getting decent sleep, and just generally taking it easy. I predict by tomorrow I’ll be feeling back to normal… at least I hope so. Right now I’m so antsy and bored that it’s making my skin itch. Ack! Just… TRAPPED.

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Classy, Conan. Well said.

Conan went out with a great show, and this final speech is wonderful. Yes, I realize that this whole story isn’t important in the grand scheme of things, but the sentiment here is indeed important and well said.

Lights Out

From Thursday, January 21, 2010:

Tonight the electricity went out, and I realized how plugged in my entire life was. It went out during Thursday night TV, which sucks because I was really looking forward to Community, Parks & Recreation, The Office, and 30 Rock. That’s right: all four of those shows. A full, exciting, productively evening… a two hour block of comedy DENIED me… well, until tomorrow when, one assumes, the electricity is back on and I’ll be able to watch them all on Hulu. Guess that’s something to look forward to.

But, honestly, there’s not much for me to do now. I’m forcing myself to write, which I’ll be able to do until my computer battery runs out or I run out of things to type… guessing the battery will last longer.

I have one tiny candle. It isn’t producing enough light to read… not really. I have a flashlight, but it’s this little keychain one. I have to hold onto the button to keep the little bit of light going. I could try to read by that, but it might just be frustrating. Yeah, I’m that lazy.

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Mustachioed Ninja

Ninja with a mustache,

your hairy lip aids you in the kicking

of ass.

Whatever your reason for growing your ‘stache,

it works for you.

I say this true blue.

Show off your ‘stache,

and cut a ‘stache hole in  your mask…

In fear your enemies will bask.

Show off that sweet hairy lip…

Oh! And when you kick,

remember to pivot with your hip.

Look, put that razor down.

Without that godgiven ‘stache,

you look like an child clown.

Ninja, sweet mustchioed ninja,

you beautiful bastard,

don’t ever give up the dream.

Shaving your lip,

won’t make your enemies scream

… in terror.

Writing Is So Dang Hard!

Writing is way too difficult for me – when one considers the fact that I claim to be a writer (when not claiming to be a robot superhero). Some folks just have so many damn ideas and don’t have time to get them all out. That fascinates me. Oh, what a problem to with which to valiantly struggle!

When I was younger it was different. I remember in junior high school, maybe seventh grade, we had creative writing assignments. The teacher, Mrs. Smith (who always had a large cup of soda on her desk… how I wanted some of that soda… I often imagined it was Mountain Dew), gave us a minimum word count for each story. I don’t remember what that word count was, but I always went over it. I asked if it was okay to do this, which seemed to surprise the teacher – and my fellow students. They had no idea why I wanted to write more than necessary. I wasn’t sure either. Then I thought about it and came to a conclusion…

Writing is loads of fun.

And it continued to be for such a long time. I started writing epic adventure stories loosely based upon me and my best friends Nate, Tadd, and Patrick (who also doubles as my brother)… well, based upon us if we were somehow vaguely descended from Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and, strangely, Inspector Clouseau (which I misspelled “Clueso” – an accident at first, but then I decided to keep it that way because it was all “Clue? So?” … so clever).

The stories were not really inspired by the Sherlock Holmes adventures. I read Author Conan Doyle’s stories, and I had a ridiculous love for the movie Young Sherlock Holmes (still do, kinda), but the stories I wrote were really just putting me and my friends (or absurdly exaggerated versions of us) in crazy adventures that barely qualified as mysteries. Lots of non sequitors, silly action, and goofy dialog – mostly done to make us all laugh.

Handwritten stories in spiral bound notebooks was my technique. Sometimes the length of a story (or “book,” as I called them) was dependent on the notebook, actually – a sign of quality?

I’d wake up before school to write (or draw), and then write when I got home. So, while it seems difficult nowadays, it must not have always felt that way. I mean, even right now, I’m thinking, “I promised around 600 words every Monday, and I do not want to let down my reader!” I’ve gone from a footloose kid who just had to write, filling notebooks with silly adventures, to this crotchety old cuss who has trouble blogging.

This might not be the best subject for a blog, actually, but… well, it might be interesting to read about a writer who has trouble writing. I don’t know. Is it?

My hope is that by writing these blogs, I’ll get the writing muscles stronger again, and that’ll help me get some of my enthusiasm for the writing. And with that, hopefully I’ll start doing it more consistently and more… better…er… more betterer.

It just takes more discipline, I suppose. Back when I was writing stories with pencil, getting that magical graphite all over my left hand as a sign of having written, I had far less distractions. I mean, typing on the computer as I’m doing now, I have the internets right at my finger tips! How many times have I checked my email then drifted off to other sites before remembering that I’m writing this very blog? I’m not sure of the answer, but it’s definitely happened more times than it should. (Appropriate number of times for this to occur: zero.) It’s just so easy to do. I’m fighting the urge to check my Twitter page now. (I hope you’re not fighting similar urges for your own Twitter or Facebook or whatever else the kids are using to crap out often inappropriately personal info to a worldwide audience while reading this, dear reader, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you were.)

This is just another writerly discipline issue, though. So! I must write more and stay focused on my writing while writing!