land of hope and glory
04.23.03 @ 6:41 p.m.
The good thing about having a diaryland account is that I'm compelled to write often, even if it's just the simple task of detailing my day. I'm in a writerly mood, having started on a second valient attempt to read Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. Which is not to say that it's not interesting or that it's a trial to read, because it isn't. Just that my first attempt was at a time when writing (and other people's opinions on writing) weren't interesting to me. But now I'm interested again, especially after having enjoyed Stephen King's On Writing so very much. That got me interested in his other writing, or at least in perusing Everything's Eventual which was good except "The Road Virus Heads North" scared the bajeezus out of me. After that, a firm rule was established: no reading Stephen King after six when I'm at home. At school it doesn't matter so much because the sheer mass of people around me negates a lot of fear, but at home there's the kind of silence you only get in the country. Nocturnal creatures moving around, snapping twigs outside your window while everything else is very, very quiet. *shudder* Yeah. But otherwise, I quite enjoyed it. I wish I had more life experience so that I could write something other than a vapid Mary Sue, like how I really want to work on Traveler and Finder, but... well, no buts. I should force my ignorant way through, shouldn't I? That, or I could let myself detail the aftermath of the plagues that ravaged the earth of that particular story. Right now, Traveler and Finder, their horses, and their dog, Sally (I couldn't keep myself from putting in some stupid "me" references, but now I'll probably take them out, looking at the story in the cool, cynical light of day) are preparing to set off through Eastern Washington... which is a place I've only gone a couple of times. I have no idea what Montana is like. And that's where I set down the one cult that was the whole inspiration for the thing. The point is to actually write, though, isn't it? Good or bad, I need to make myself write more often.
Now for something completely different. The one year anniversary of this little diary has come and gone and I can hardly believe it. What reminded me (apart from my gold membership nearly running out, I just paid for more because I'm too lazy to transfer all my image links to my school server space) is that the time has come (yet again) for the Spring UO Street Faire. The air, when not weighed down with rain (ha ha, when is that again?), is filled with the mingled smells of nag champa and indian food. I like nag champa well enough, but when the Street Faire rolls around, it gets to be a bit much. It's so stereotypical Eugene, the patchwork clothes and guy selling a wide range of marajuana-related t-shirts (watch as I start getting google hits off "drug shirts" again) for $5 a piece, people selling stickers and patches, the crazy guy that always wants to know if I'm interested in buying the world's funniest joke book, but I'm not, sorry, thanks, I'll be moving along now. It's always the same. And while Poster Guy was there, promising to feed my addiction to buying rock posters for my walls whether or not I have wall space to display them. And while there was an intriguing James Dean poster, I only let myself flip through one rack. I would not have been able to restrain myself if I had seen the "Who the fuck is Mick Jagger" photo of Keith Richards, I think. Fortunately, I rarely have any cash on me, anyway.
It annoys me that E* spends so much of her time in the room sleeping lately. It puts a crimp in my style to have to tip toe around her while she sleeps and then fume silently at night while she stays up late working (I cannot sleep with a light on... unless of course I've just read "The Road Virus Heads North").
I also wish I wrote in a more serious and artful vein and that I had someone to exchange writing with. Apart from Rachel, anyway. We swap our ridiculous Mary Sues. But I wish I could swap stories with.... *whisper* Slavik. I like being artsy with him. Beth down the hall thinks I have a thing for him and that I should "go for it." Apart from my semi-knowledge that he has a ladyfriend, I admire him more the way I admire Martha: They're just cool. I like talking to cool people, it makes me feel less like a dork. By the same token, I'm hugely thrilled with the way I'm exchanging many emails a day with Martha of late, even if they're mostly kind of bitchy. That's the way it goes. It's nice to be a bit more honest about how I feel about certain people, and I know Martha isn't tactless enough to reveal anything. And we mostly agree, anyway.
In a related note, Amy sent this thing to "break the silence" in our high school yahoogroup listing a bunch of people and requesting what associations people have with each name. I don't fucking want to know what people associate with me. It's all lies anyway, or at least it's not honest. You can't do something like that and expect anything other than stupid sugarcoated compliments that they've sat and struggled with, or at least they have if they're remotely as cynical as me. It makes me mad, half the stuff they list. I'm starting to think that Amy sees me as conceited and condescending, and maybe I am. That doesn't really bother me that much. She's getting presumptuous about some things (like that I want or care about a fucking Mamas and Papas vinyl album. I don't goddamn want vinyl, I don't have a record player, what fucking good does it do me? And I have a passing fancy for the M&Ps. I admire Cass Elliot's voice and humor. And she tends to hang around too long. I'm a solitary person. I don't like just sitting around with someone doing nothing... at least in a situation where it's one friend visiting another. I feel compelled to entertain, but I'd much rather just have the time to myself.
Wow, I was so cool and collected, and I started up a rant. Okay. That's enough for now. I don't want to keep bitching about Amy 'til I lose all respect for her.
Besides, I'm starving. I really really need some foodd and I'm on edge again because E* is back from wherever she was and... she tries to talk to me when I am POINTEDLY writing. About how she's never really 'experienced' alienation. So now she's trying to, and I just don't think it works when it's self imposed. Whatever. She can do whatever crazy things she wants, it's not my concern. I can sit here and write or read. I need to do a bunch of annotations tonight, or at least two, I shall try to make myself do at least two annotations tonight. I also really want to drop out of Astronomy, but I have no idea what effect a "W" has on my transcript.
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
