monday monday
01.13.03 @ 12:41 p.m.
I had started writing in Liz's guestbook responding to her entry about the Enneagram when I decided I was writing so much I should just do a proper entry.
Sometimes things like the enneagram are fun even though I don't like being typed. Besides, I'm typed differently almost every single time. My dad often claims I'm a 9, just like him. Haha. Well, if you've been reading this for a while, you might know that my dad is a horrible, manipulative, sulky person and the last thing I want to be is like him. It kind of pisses me off that he thinks he knows me so well when there is an awful lot he doesn't know. At any rate, I am no 'Peacemaker'... I don't give a shit if other people argue. If anything, I'm a 5. I obsess, I live in books, and I have little to no social life. Ha. Actually, I'm just happiest seeking out other people who share my own esoteric interests, hence my close friendship with Rachel Rene. We're both Monkees obsessed and trying to press our other obsessions on each other. I keep trying to get her to read Pride and Prejudice, she fills my inbox with 21 Jump Street fanfic. It's a bizarre symbiosis.
I'm getting kind of worried about my chances for passing history... see, the last two days, I have barely been able to stay awake. I could blame having to get up early lately, I guess... On the surface, Prof. Luebke isn't boring, but I actually have a piece of paper I was writing a story on (tacking on a courtship piece to Riverwood instead of the craptacular epilogue I put on the end of it) and there are places where I closed my eyes while I was writing and the word I'm writing actually makes a right angle turn and degrages into a pathetic scribble. It's so sad! Part of the problem might be the habit I developed of typing with my eyes closed when I'm writing fiction. I don't know why but it goes faster and smoother that way, and I can concentrate on the story.
Not that I'm writing much lately. I wrote about 300 words on Rael the other day, and it's slightly frightening that I'm having fun writing the apocalyptic decimation of humanity. Bioterrorism is the course of action I decided on for the depopulation of the earth. Doesn't that sound like an incriminating sentence? I started writing this story based on a song and now I don't know if I can even work it into the story. Now it's just whacked out cultist in a post apocalyptic world. You know, cheerful stuff like that. Hah.
I need to get off my lazy butt now and start doing some of the homework I blew off this weekend and study for Italian and Rock, my two classes tomorrow.
PS-I'm watching a rerun of Conan O'Brien and this Naked Trucker thing is pretty hilarious.
PPS-My Who albums work in my stereo now, I'm going through a Mamas and Papas phase, and did you hear about those recovered Beatles tapes?
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
