I'm so excited about this, you don't even know. I've started my Avatar marathon, and even though I've watched most of the episodes more than once, I don't get bored. And, seriously... SOKKA = <333333 He and the "fluffy snot monster" are my favorites.

I really don't have anything else to update about. You know what makes me really sad? Chuck Palahniuk is already picking out finalists to include in his anthology, and I have yet to write anything. Pffft.

Off to bed.

I've figured out why this place doesn't inspire me at all: everything is so fucking familiar that I can't find anything interesting to say-- I'd gotten bored with it years ago, and going back to the same thing was very, very unexpected.

I have, however, started writing again last night. My mother reminded me that I should just stop thinking about crap that aren't my problem and focus on myself. She also reminded me that this little autobiography-like text came out of what I've gone through here.

It was a good wake up call. Now let's see if I can pull it off, even though I've always felt very awkward letting my mother read my stuff.

I was cleaning my room (again) and again I found old stuff. Below is my 12-year-old self who wrote and submitted a little something to the student publication. And those dumbasses published it, hahah. I cannot believe they wouldn't even FIX it before printing it. Anyway... I've looked at the date, and this was written 6 months from the day I started learning English, which explains how much it sucks. And I don't have anything to say about the subject matter-- I guess I was born fucked up.



* * * * *

I've been reading Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book and loving it. And then, earlier this evening, I was checking his journal and found this: he himself is reading the chapters, which is pure magic. I've been reading AND listening for a while now, and I'm in heaven.

I've also noticed that I have the UK version of the book, and he's reading the US version because chapel became church and trainers became sneakers to name a few.

* * * * *

Lastly, I just got an e-mail from Amazon about my pre-ordering the Twilight DVD months ago. I really am not that desperate since I already have it on my computer and all, but it was a good laugh.

( Under the cut )

And now I'm going back to my book.

Actually, this morning. I wrote it down before I left for work.

- - - - - - - - - - -

When he swung the door open, she was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, holding a gun in her mouth, her finger resting on the trigger. Staring off into empty space and deep in thought, she didn't hear him come in. He walked over to the other side of the bed in a few quick steps, turned the night light off and spread the curtains wide open. "You're wearing my favorite shirt," he said as he admired her collar bones showing through the neck, her skin sparkling under the ray of sunlight.

"Don't get blood on it now," he said, raising his voice this time. She put the gun down on the silk sheets and turned to him: "I was just doing research."

"And what exactly are you researching?" he asked.

"What it would be like to die while giving a blowjob," she answered, and they both started laughing.

- - - - - - - - - - -

I know. I probably DO need therapy.

Taken from Willa Cather's My Antonia, this is one of the best descriptions I've ever read. I love love love this kind of writing where the author doesn't just say, "the sun was setting so we decided we should head home."

This is what my author page looks like now =D

I collected ALL the winners badges in addition to the *pdf format certificate. Screw picking only one.



And here's the first thing that comes up once you win:

( Cut for size )

I will admit I did cheat by putting in full song lyrics and poems. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Plus, the authors at the website had suggested in an e-mail themselves that if you do get desperate, your characters can always burst into song.

I'll take some time off now from writing, until after the holidays. After that I'll put my manuscripts in order, take out the junk and make it read-worthy.

In the meantime, I already made plans with my best friend for tomorrow night, where I'll actually go out and see a movie --Burn After Reading, hopefully-- and have coffee like a normal person.


ETA: The motivational e-mail that the NaNoWriMo website sent today was pretty cool. In case you want to check out the beginning of it, which very much amused me...

( Cut for length )

After reading the small preview I've posted in this entry, my sister had said she would like to read what I have so far. Tonight, when she got home, I printed it out for her, and she's half way done reading it...

Her comment was something along the lines of "I don't mean to kiss your ass, but you know when I was reading the Twilight Saga I didn't want it to end yet I couldn't wait to see what happens next? That's what your story is doing to me."

What else could I ask for?

Also, the NaNoWriMo e-mail of the week was very inspirational, and definitely made me believe I can finish this. And I will!

23278 / 50000 words. 47% done!

Created with wordle.net
It's the PERFECT application for word nerds like myself. Heheh.



P.S. I need to download some Joni Mitchell albums as background inspiration.
P.S.S. Happy birthday to Mr. Ville Valo. Your sexy ass is still in tact, darlin'.

Just so you know, there are mistakes in this and probably unnecessary words and repetitions. But I'm on a deadline so I'll worry about that after I hit 50,000.

- - - - - - - - - -
“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad,” screams Eva and jumps down from the bar stool she’s been sitting on and runs to me with open arms. To the rest of the crowd who are sitting at their booths and enjoying their drinks, this move might look very fake, but I know it’s not. I can feel that she’s as glad to see me as I am to see her. “Oh, the infamous Eva Gale,” says Ethan as I let my body awkwardly fall into her arms. She holds me by my shoulders and pushes my chest back and gives me a kiss on the lips. As the rest of the bar goes, “Wooooohoooo” and Ethan rolls his eyes, she grabs my hand and drags me to an empty booth. Ethan sits beside me, and Eva sits across from us, her arms folded on her chest.

( Cut for length )