Monday, September 5, 2016
So this might as well be a celebration because this is maybe the ump-teenth blog I've started. However, I regard this as morose as a funeral... For it'll be the death of me procrastinating habits. The most difficult thing about maintaining a blog on Blogger, or any of those sites ( be it Wordpress or LiveJournal) is that there's a strange feeling of you running out of things to say or comment on. Me? Well I tend to find myself talking about a lotta things, whether it be movies, music or philosophies, to name a few. But one key aspect I've noticed missing and outlet in my life is... Well, my life. As it is, I live a very tumultuous existence to which ends aren't in place. But because that is the case, I get a buncha raspberries blowing up in my face. They say it's best to put yourself, whole-heartedly, into the work your create but let's just say I do a bit much of that. I want my storytelling and the ever-increasing quality of such to improve on its own, not with the rancid flavoring of my own struggles and heartbeats literally interlaced to where I'm doing some meta-thing like some people on the Net do.
In other words, to make my work less involved and in-tango with my private life, I will use this as essentially, an online diary/journal of sorts.
I won't mention names here but if I do feel angry about you, likely you might see what I REALLY think on here. And rant-writing---um---I feel like it's the Ugly Duckling of the genre. Not so poetic, nor puzzling, nor entertaining really, unless if you love seeing conflict erupt outside a novel.
But alas, it's just something one needs to do to let the pressures of life unyield him when nothing else works. (This includes talking to other sane-beings around me... We've had a famine of that lately here in Santa Monica.)
Anyway, that's all I really want to touch upon in this introductory. I may write more in the future but likely this'll be the main Blogger Blog to end all other Blogger Blogs.
Also, I will keep these entries separate from that of actual notebooks I write in. As those are for the purpose of scribing specific journeys I go on...
Well, I guess I have a little more to say. One may wonder if being on an iPhone, I utilise the opportunity to speak into the microphone and have this transcribe my spoken into written. This however is not the case. I like to admit that I'm trying to learn how to type with my eyes closed. It, I feel is only necessary for me to do in this time of hardship I endure.
To speak to those lucky enough to trail their eyes along this long-ass blog post--which , rest assured, is free of emojis and smileys, considering how truly insipid I find those things--my day consisted of waking up to a fallen-down MacBook Pro W/ Retina Display and trying to manage how I feel about that, in hindsight of better judgement being necessary to be taken in the future regarding waterbottles.
(I'm clumsier than anyone could tell.)
I feel largely dissapointed in myself and obviously scared as the screen is glitching and the battery may have been functioning improperly for a portion of the day as I wrote a screenplay, whodunnit, space log and job application all on one computer.
Meanwhile, I practiced shorthand, Morse Code, wrote a short-story partially based on this, sadly, and Took notes for a class.
I would've said TWO classes but, truth be told, I barely got through the cold open of Dan Harmon's "Community" pilot script (Well-Written, no matter which screen you read it on.)
I roll my eyes at how dumb my roommate sounds as he speaks and mutters fake gangster phrases to himself in between sending voice messages (to text) . Usually m, I would have some remorse for this soul but that's just it. He's basic and without a soul. Incessant, stupid, uncommitted and nondriven. Let alone, needlessly foul. I dare not speak his name, not out of fear he may read this someday--which I hope he does so he can wake up and realise that he needs to grow up--but out of nonchalant care, in spite of his overly-intense flavour. For, how I see it, he's a lost cause of somebody that'll never be someone reputable.
If anything, he's the inspiration for me to keep being a writer. So I may never end up as foolish as him... And yet he is happy... Why?
In other words, to make my work less involved and in-tango with my private life, I will use this as essentially, an online diary/journal of sorts.
I won't mention names here but if I do feel angry about you, likely you might see what I REALLY think on here. And rant-writing---um---I feel like it's the Ugly Duckling of the genre. Not so poetic, nor puzzling, nor entertaining really, unless if you love seeing conflict erupt outside a novel.
But alas, it's just something one needs to do to let the pressures of life unyield him when nothing else works. (This includes talking to other sane-beings around me... We've had a famine of that lately here in Santa Monica.)
Anyway, that's all I really want to touch upon in this introductory. I may write more in the future but likely this'll be the main Blogger Blog to end all other Blogger Blogs.
Also, I will keep these entries separate from that of actual notebooks I write in. As those are for the purpose of scribing specific journeys I go on...
Well, I guess I have a little more to say. One may wonder if being on an iPhone, I utilise the opportunity to speak into the microphone and have this transcribe my spoken into written. This however is not the case. I like to admit that I'm trying to learn how to type with my eyes closed. It, I feel is only necessary for me to do in this time of hardship I endure.
To speak to those lucky enough to trail their eyes along this long-ass blog post--which , rest assured, is free of emojis and smileys, considering how truly insipid I find those things--my day consisted of waking up to a fallen-down MacBook Pro W/ Retina Display and trying to manage how I feel about that, in hindsight of better judgement being necessary to be taken in the future regarding waterbottles.
(I'm clumsier than anyone could tell.)
I feel largely dissapointed in myself and obviously scared as the screen is glitching and the battery may have been functioning improperly for a portion of the day as I wrote a screenplay, whodunnit, space log and job application all on one computer.
Meanwhile, I practiced shorthand, Morse Code, wrote a short-story partially based on this, sadly, and Took notes for a class.
I would've said TWO classes but, truth be told, I barely got through the cold open of Dan Harmon's "Community" pilot script (Well-Written, no matter which screen you read it on.)
I roll my eyes at how dumb my roommate sounds as he speaks and mutters fake gangster phrases to himself in between sending voice messages (to text) . Usually m, I would have some remorse for this soul but that's just it. He's basic and without a soul. Incessant, stupid, uncommitted and nondriven. Let alone, needlessly foul. I dare not speak his name, not out of fear he may read this someday--which I hope he does so he can wake up and realise that he needs to grow up--but out of nonchalant care, in spite of his overly-intense flavour. For, how I see it, he's a lost cause of somebody that'll never be someone reputable.
If anything, he's the inspiration for me to keep being a writer. So I may never end up as foolish as him... And yet he is happy... Why?
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