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2 October 1999 ::: Writing ::: I think my subconscious is trying to sabotage me. The other night I had a dream. I was back in school, taking a writing class. The professor had just passed back our latest writing assignment. I paged through my story, about 15 pages long, glancing at the the comments in the margins. The last page showed the grade. I saw the minus sign first and was disappointed. Then I saw the "F". "F-" to be precise. Then I saw the grade: 0/100. Does my writing suck that bad?? Speaking of high school english class... I think I must have skipped and zoned out all of my english lessons. Apparently it's illegal to end a sentence with a preposition. hm. What the heck is a preposition, again? And present-past-perfect-tomorrow tense? What's up with all that? cheri has no clue. Terribly confusing. Maybe that's why my writing sucks so horribly. So I want to write more. Not necessarily here, since it is kind of a pain to write, upload, edit pages here and there and then send out a notify. But, you know, just in general... Writing more in my paper journal. And writing more in my fictional journal. And think more about writing. Years ago I used to think my whole life was a story, I would think the words of it in my head constantly. Nothing ever got down on paper, tho, thank the gods, it would have been quite boring probably. But I don't think the words of the story of my life anymore. And I should. I really should. I hope I remember how... |
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5 October 1999 ::: Money on the 'Net ::: Making money on the Internet. Can it be done? Well. Yes. But not really. I have been internetting seriously for the past three years... So far I have made less than 15$ plus one free tee-shirt. 'Course, I have not been seriously looking for money. But, you're curious about that fifteen bucks, right, 'cause it's more than you've made. :) I filled out a very long survey about a year ago, and I got a 10$ check in the mail for my trouble. The tee-shirt came from About.com when I signed up with them (My site there was taken down).) The rest of the money I have yet to see. I have two or three dollars sitting in my Amazon Associates account... they don't send out checks unless they are over 25 or 50 dollars or something like that. See, if you people would just start buying stuff from me, I could be rich! :D So. How about other methods?
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7 October 1999 ::: Rambling ::: The Static Girl has a headache. She goes for the Motrin. Oops, it's an empty bottle. Never fear, there's a back-up bottle, brand new! Static Girl rips open the cardboard packaging. She struggles with the plastic seal surrounding the bottle. She is only slightly frustrated with the child proof top. Then she stabs repeatedly at the foil seal on the inside. Then the evil cotton. Damn the cotton. And finally the prize! Yea! But a chain saw would have made the process a lot easier. um. okay. Well. I still have a headache. oh well. Too bad I don't have anything else to write about... Which is a good enough reason to ramble... I am considering sending in a resume to Netscape... Of course I would have to do some serious bull sh*tting on the resume. But that's what I have that Bachlor's of Science for, right. And when Netscape hires me, I will be able to track down those um nice people who tech support for the Netscape home pages. Unfortunately Netscape and AOL are bed-mates. I'll just tell Dax V that I am infiltrating the enemy. We will destroy them from the inside! Spunker MetaPoetry (site went down): And an ocean of blood stills my soul and a goddess whispers my wants in a dream Lists of 100. Ever heard of that? It's a journal technique, just something to get you writing. You think of a topic and you make up a list of 100 things. My first list was "100 things that make me smile" which I wrote when I was feeling kind of down. Puppies, rainbows, unicorns, jumping on hay bales, a fire in the fireplace, spanish moss hanging off the cyprus trees and frogs singing. A quiet day at home, sleeping in, making things work, having a good idea, snow and sleds. Hitting the "save" button, knowing where my stuff is, being soft and comfortable, Adric the guinea pig chasing me around to lick my feet, writing something amusing. Soft side-ways kisses, dolphins and horses, new software. Gentle rain, japanese maples, getting mail, singing and dancing along with my favorite song. Crisp, deep blue autumn skies, framed with the white trunks and yellow leaves of aspens and green pines and the Rocky Mountains covered in snow. My stuffed animal, Pepe. :) Are you smiling yet? What's on your list? |
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9 October 1999 ::: Synchronicity ::: Synchronicity. Ever hear of that? The Artist's Way calls it "answered prayers." Julia Cameron lists several examples in her book, of people deciding something then suddenly receiving a push from the outside world in that direction. A woman decides to go back to school and gets a mailing from the very school she wants to attend. A man decides to get a professional opinion on his writing, the next night finds him playing pool with a writer who soon becomes his mentor and collaborator on several successful books. But in my opinion, synchronicity is more than just "ask and you shall receive." Often it is one strange event, predicting another strange event. A dream which heralds the reality. A sudden focus on something at the edge of your vision, leading you down a unique path which is strangly familiar. Not quite deja vu, not quite cause-and-effect, but a combination of the two. Plus a little bit of magic. Yes, I believe in synchronicity. I don't believe it is caused by any god-thing. I believe in the magic of the universe. That there is something special in chaos. There is no conscious force controling the chaos. But every once in a while we hear our name called in the static, and synchronicity occurs in our life. |
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11 October 1999 ::: Bored ::: So, here I am, screaming for something new, for something different. I am bored. I want something else. I don't know what. But, you know, I am no longer finding it on the Internet. Yes, I am an Internet addict, all my non-working, non-sleeping hours are spent on-line. However, I have exhausted that avenue for the moment. So I am going to see what happens when I log off for a little while. Don't worry, I am not giving up this site, for all my devoted fans. I am just going to slide my focus around a little and try and figure out what it is that I want. |
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12 October 1999 ::: Anne Rice and Walks ::: Today is a perfect day for staying indoors with a cup of fake coffee and a book. The sky is a beautiful, blank gray, trees have a couple leaves turning colors but not yet spectacular, the air a cool 67 degrees or so. It's not raining but it may as well be for all the apathy and lack of motivation I feel. :) So, yes, I'm back to reading Anne Rice. Tho some people do not appreciate her writings. Yes, she can "screw up" a good legend. However, it says fiction on the side of all her books... That one little word gives her the right to write as she pleases. If you want real information on vampires, there are plenty of non-fiction mythology books out there. Unfortunately, it is rather easy to get bored with Anne Rice. She does drawl on for a bit. So I decide to get up and go for a walk. And for all my apathy, I had promised myself to get some exercise today. I got all dressed up for my walk, too: put on shoes and socks. I go out, it's all nice and quiet and all. I get far enough away and realize I have absolutely no weapons on me. ack. Well, you will notice that I got back alright :) but that is information stored for the next walk I take. And anyway... There was a girl, walking on the same pavement as I, going the opposite direction. When she got close enough I made eye contact and was going to smile at her. (She was kind of cute after all, heh. Just kidding, can't you people take a joke?) But she took one look at me, looked down at the ground and quickened her walk. When she got past me she started running. laugh. Yes, people, I have kind of a mean look about me when I am not grinning at something amusing. So don't cross me and you won't get my evil eye. ;) I am thinking about getting my own domain. How does www.static8.com sound? Well, it's too expensive at the moment, but it will be a Christmas present to myself. Look for me there in January 2000. :) Appropriate, new beginnings and all. |
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13 October 1999 ::: Driving and Goals ::: So. Today's extracurricular activity: driving around aimlessly in circles. Literally, the town I live in has an interstate going all the way around it. It takes about 20 minutes to travel the whole thing. I did the loop twice. Driving has always been an important part of my life. And I miss it tremendously since I have moved here. As a kid, my family always traveled to our vacations by car. Usually a good 16 hours in the car in a stretch. gods, those were the days. I didn't get my first car until I was 20. And I pretty much ran that Hyundia into the ground. I was living in Colorado at the time, and made trips between Denver and Fort Collins about weekly. Just over 70 miles, made ever so much more pleasent when the speed limit got bumped up to 75 miles an hour. You can get a lot of thinking done in the monotony of driving an interstate. And you can sing along with the radio which is at full blast so you can't even hear yourself. But mostly it's for the thinking. So. Dax V is thinking about quitting writing. And why, we ask? Because he has accomplished his goal of being the best. I have encountered this type of attitude before with WC, his goal was the perfect poem, which he has written. Granted, I will probably never understand. I don't set goals for myself. And plus, no one gives a living sh*t about the stuff I create. shrug. But to quit just because you have made a goal? I really have to wonder about that one. Wouldn't you just make another goal? Set your eyes on the next mountain over to climb? I have been to the top of a few mountains in my time and can't really believe that the drive up would get boring. Even making the 70 mile drive between Denver and the Fort hundreds of times, it never got boring. But maybe that's just me. And then again. It seems to be the season for change. Everyone is trying to do something a little different. So. Here is my official salute to Dax V. I'll miss your writing. Your poetry is incredible, and your journal entries are amusing, they made me smile and they made me feel important. cheri waves bye-bye. |
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18 October 1999 ::: I am so Boring ::: Okay, so it's been about five days since the last journal entry here. I'm gonna blame it on depression, apathy, lack of motivation and letting the evil Editor have way too much control. You see, it's not that I am am not writing. I've written several entries. And then my evil internal Editor comes along and says "That is SO Stupid!" and then everything gets deleted. So, hopefully today we can tell the Editor to bugger off. And that's about the time that I realized that, yet again, I have nothing to write about. My Editor says I am the most Un-interesting person alive. sighs. So I go out on my porch to watch the sun set. I have my lawn chair, my feet up on the guard rail, a book in my lap. And the sun goes down and I listen to the crickets and the traffic. I open my book and look at two pages before I realize that's exactly what I'm doing: looking, not absorbing anything. This is a very easy thing to do with this particular book. cheri waves Simulacra and Simulation around in the air. "Does any one comprehend a word this silly man is trying to communicate???" I get no takers. |
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19 October 1999 ::: Once Upon a Time ::: Once upon a time there was a silly girl who believed in rainbows and love and good things and magic. But very often the girl was sad. Because rainbows are rare, and are only just tricks of the light. And love doesn't really exists. And good things are hard to find in the horrible world. And by living life, we are not so awed by the every day magics. One day the girl was very sad. Lying in bed, dreading the day before her, thinking sad thoughts. And then a little magic happened. Her stereo turned itself on and started playing a good song from a cd. The girl did not know how this happened, but she was not surprised. It was just a small magic, after all, but it did make her smile. The End. |
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21 October 1999 ::: Tidbits ::: Call me Deaf Girl today. I went to the doctor and they couldn't help me. They only charged me 75$ to inform me of this. I went to the pharmacy and they charged just as much for some nice ear drops. Sheesh. It should be obvious at this point that I don't actually have anything to say. Those "Horizontal Rules" are a dead give-away. Here's another one for your viewing pleasure: Apparently, October is PeTA's "Cut Out Dissection" Month. Did you have to do any dissecting in school? I didn't per se, but I did have an anatomy class in college in which we looked at a bunch of dead, sliced up Gray Hounds. I hated that class. I just don't get it... killing animals to learn how to be a veterinarian? Sounds stupid to me. But, you know, whatever. Humans are the stupidest people I have ever met. WC says If you DON'T have to distract yourself from reality, then you're not paying attention. Yeah. They have found that people with major depression have a more realistic view of life... And the normal people out there are actually mostly deluding themselves... Interesting tidbit, huh? I think today is tidbit day. :) Dax V has a cool new web site. And today's journal entry says he's going to run away when he gets rich. In a boat. You know I would run away too. Unfortunately, I get motion sickness, so boats are out. :) One time I rode on a hover craft across the English Channel. It was fun for about five minutes. Then I was throwing up all over the place. Charming, huh? Well. I guess I'm about done for today. |
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23 October 1999 ::: Ugh ::: Ever have one of those days? You know, one of those days that you just should have stayed in bed. Friday was that kind of day. Big things went wrong. Little things went wrong. I was dropping things left and right. People were doing me wrong. Work was busy and by the end of the day everyone's tempers were frayed. And I wanted to cheer everyone up, but I had lost both my humor and my hope by that time. sighs. The work day finally ends and I decide to stop off at the grocery store to get myself some weekend essentials. You know. Beer. But I had to walk by the bakery on the way out and an impulse buy could not be resisted. I grabbed a container of yummy looking cookies. And promptly dropped them on the floor, container busted, cookies everywhere. Lovely. But that's okay. Because, really, I am beyond caring. I get home, pack my bags, make sure Adric the guinea pig will be okay by himself for a couple, and skip town. Last night at 7pm there was exactly Nothing keeping me in this pathetic little town. Yep. Good bye and good riddence. Yeah, and you notice, I came back. Not because anything changed, not because any magic occured, and not because I wanted to. But I did learn... today I spent all day in bed. Here is my great big "F*ck You" to the world. |
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25 October 1999 ::: Not Normal, not interesting ::: Okay, people? Here's a news flash. I am not normal. I'm not a normal girl and I'm not a normal human being. It's not really my fault. Tho if I did have a choice, I still would choose to be not normal. I suppose that no one really believes that they are normal, huh? And to explain how not normal I am, I would have to define what is normal. shrug. And then I would have to go into why I'm not normal and how I got to be this way. Hm. This journal entry could get very deep, very quickly. Damn. Well. Maybe I will spill my guts here one day. Just not today, okay. So. Um. How 'bout them Braves? ;) |
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26 October 1999 ::: Project Journal ::: So I tote my poor deaf self back to the doctors. They made me wait for an hour and forty. Boy, was I ever getting pissed. Then they looked in my ears. They nodded and said yep, you're deaf alright, come back in a week. Damn them anyway. But at least they didn't charge me anything this time, so I got free nods and free naps in an exam room. But I'm still pissed. And still deaf. gods. I hate it when there's no Hershey's in the house. You know, in general, I find it very difficult to live with myself. But when I get chocolate-deficient I'm quite intolerable. Cheri is back to eating ice cream topping right out of the bottle. yum. You may have noticed the "surfing" link in the sidebar. I went cruising through Writing the Journey again today and discovered the Project Journal exercise. Remember Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? Indiana's father has a project journal of his search for the Holy Grail. The article lists other project journals as well, such as a gift/card exchange journal. Pretty good idea. It reminded me of my own project pages. And, looky, that essay I wrote ages ago is still around. hehe. Creativity. But my project pages are for smaller, more defined projects. The project journal is more for life projects. So I decided that I want a project journal too. As if I didn't have enough journals lying around here already. :) Now I have to decide on a good project... |
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30 October 1999 ::: Hiatus ::: I suppose I am on hiatus. It has become increasingly difficult to write, not just here, but my private journals as well. Yes, yes, everyone is all depressed. But don't worry excessively. Maybe I will have something to write about tomorrow. |
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31 October 1999 ::: Prompt: A Day ::: I am still on hiatus. "Oh?" you say. "Then what is all this writing I see here?" It's fake. Fake writing. Not really real writing. It's just pretend. You and me both are hallucinating. :) A journal prompt from Topics du jour: What would you like to have in your life if it were only for one day? Death. Isn't that a strange thing to say? I would like death in my life for just one day. I've lived a very sheltered life. And on top of that I steer clear of any potential tragedy, running away both physically and emotionally. So I wonder what would happen if death were staring me in the face for a day. I would hope that it would be a learning experience, teaching me that this forever is finite. That there is an end, and I've got stuff to do, damnit! And you would think that a depressed girl like me would be familiar enough with thoughts of death that a day with it would not make much of a difference. But I am too familiar with those thoughts, too familiar with that voice coming from the side, interupting every conversation I have in my head. Basically what it all winds down to is this: I couldn't get that lucky. I couldn't get lucky enough that the world would end tomorrow. I couldn't get lucky enough to die in my sleep tonight. I couldn't get lucky enough to accidently chop off my head. <smirk> I don't have any ambition. I don't have a little devil on my shoulder telling me what to do. I don't have any goals and I don't have any drive. And maybe a day with death would kick start my engine. Or maybe it would leave me just as apathetic as I already am. |
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