As these teenage dreams and nightmares…

…start to fade away, I’d like to wish you all a happy new year and hope you had a good festive period, whatever you were doing. I hate the new year. The mas holiday is lovely for me because I can just chill and read and stay in bed til 12 and play on the internet and go shopping. Then the 2nd of January comes around and its time to leave it all behind and snap into attention like a lean racehorse, with two weeks worth of work to catch up on. Back to reality, back to praying I can hang on to this job for another year. Waiting to see what awful things are going to happen to me this year. Oh goody.   

I’m going to be 20 in 18 days. It’s time to stop fucking around and get on with the rest of my life. I may not ever be as good a writer or as famous a writer as Stephen King or Neil Gaiman but so help me, I’m not going to find out if I spend the rest of my life sitting about watching David Firth films. I can’t do anything else, can’t paint, photoshop or animate stuff. Can’t act either.

Watch this space. I’m working on some new material (some of which hopefully will be unshit enough to submit to a few webzines or something) and than I will be back to kick all your arses!! HA!

Here’s to 2008. I have no idea where I’m going to be by the end of it, but that’s all part of the fun isn’t it, Doctor? Who knows, maybe the good things will outweigh the bad this year! Funny how you get really exciting years and really boring years and the good and bad stuff always seems to even out. 2007 was too much for anyone from my POV. Way too much was going on. I loved the medium rare steak, but I didn’t care for the tequila (both of which I had for the first time this year). Let’s have a nice quiet year, with no shitty relationships or losing of jobs, or people dying, or being promoted (rough with the smooth and all that….), so I can concentrate on taking over the universe.

Good luck this year, dudes. Love you all.

A teeny tiny rant.

What is up with libraries? I do not have the space or the money to actually buy books, so I kind of rely on the library. But the kind of book I like is either horror or experimental fiction (in fact, horror is often experimental but they put it with the horror because they don’t know how else to categorise it) and the bulk of fiction in libraries are either crime or Chick lit, both of which I find to be the most dull and predictable sorts of books. It’s like how most of the stuff they play on the radio is fucking Take That or Shane Ward. Just because the majority of people are either too scared to break away from the crowd or too stupid to appreciatiate anything that makes them think or tries to make a statement…I mean, where does that leave me? I won’t write normal popular fiction, only weird experimental stuff. I could, but it bores the shit out of me.

Uuaaaggghhhhhhh!!!

I really do not like the thought of having to drag myself out of my lovely warm bed in the icelike temperatures in the middle of the night (7am) tomorrow. Still, only 10 days to go…

Uhhhhh…

Screwed

Ok, so I totally screwed Nanowrimo up this year. I think I ought to be forgiven, considering that I was rehearsing for a play every day for 6 days of the month, went out getting drunk on 3 days of the month, was in a play for 2 days of the month and was otherwise engaged (out with friends not getting drunk, watching DVD’s or reading). That didn’t leave me with many days really. And I was behind from the start, and I know that’s no excuse, but I’m still trying to get over…you know….

Anyway, I messed it up totally. I wrote a total of about 10,000 words on 2 different stories during the entire month. And they were both shit. But at least I had the experience of failure. And I haven’t blogged either. I know. But hey, life is goood. 14 days of having to get up at 7am and then I’m free (until January the 2nd). I love the job I’m in now, but I hate having to get up in the middle of the night to get to Nottingham.

 So, for the simple reason that I’m going to have a lot more chance of actually doing this, my challange now is to write 50,000 on any fiction during december. It doesn’t matter if I write 50 stories of 1000 words, or one long story or three stories of 17000 wordsm, 50,000 words of anything and I win. I’m not going to completely fail at this. I’m a Capricorn. I will not lose. 

I guess I’m going to fail at this now.   

After a long leave of absence…

Sorry. I didn’t mean to not post anything for two weeks (again), but life has kind of been running away with itself. I broke my internetconnection, which was hilarious, and then I started an online rune course and I haven’t had time to do much, let alone started this wretched novel that still doesn’t have a name. I might have to do that tonight, as at the present time, I’m doing worse than last year. At least last year I knew vaugely what I was doing.

Help!

No, I’ll pull it together. I always do. Well, mainly. Someone on the Nano forum has already written 30,000 words. I haven’t even done one! Shocking.

You did miss a hell of a post just before my interweb broke. I was having this grandoise rant about the possibility of the legal drinking age in the UK being raised to 21. I’m pissed off about that still, but I’ve lost the momentum of the rant so unfortunately I can’t recreate it. My internet died about 3/4 of the way through this rant. I was bloody annoyed about that as well.

“So…uh…how’s that little novel of yours com-” *BANG* 

My Creative Licence

Life is just too damn short to not be egocentric. That’s it. That’s all I have to say. The only way to be completely original and groundbreaking is to be completely yourself, all the time. I suppose that includes the endless lying on my bed watching Peep Show DVD’s and reading like a fury because I’m so flipping scared of doing any writing in case I turn out to not be as good at it as I thought I was. I’m not that good at writing. I could be, but I don’t do enough to improve, and every day that I don’t write, I get worse.

Henry has posted a lovely comment on this site (just a baby and it already has so many friends!) saying that, just by writing a blog, I was writing. It’s like a lot of things I’ve read but never taken a lot of notice of – it doesn’t matter if you write shit, as long as you keep writing. Even this, even a diary in a scrubby notebook is something. This is the only thing I was ever really good at. I love acting, but I’m not really that good at it. For me, it’s more the kick that I get out of being on a stage in front of people. I just like to be admired and told how wonderful I am. All the world’s a stage! (Shakey! You’re out of copyright now, so I can use whatever the hell I like.) I’m going to be totally honest with you – I’m slightly drunk. And it’s Monday tomorrow.

But hey! Look at me! I’m writing again! I’m so happy.

(Um, does anyone know how to change the size of the type in WordPress? I know it can be done, I just don’t know how…)

Urgh!

Dear sweet lord, I am bored today. All I have done all day is eat grapes, drink Kronenbourg, listen to Greenday and fiddle around on the intranet. I know I should be writing but I can’t be bothered.

The thing is that I owe some writing to a forum, but I don;t feel like writing it, and I feel guilty trying to write anything else. It’s a vicoius circle. I’m trapped between a rock and a hard place, desperately trying to pick between the fire and the frying pan (and other assorted clliches).

Balls.

I also think ‘balls’ might be my new favourite phrase, along with ‘Damn it all to pus-spewing, blood-splattered hell’. That too.

So, yes, I’m going to fuck about with my blog for a bit, because I can;t bring myself to do any writing. Sue me.