I haven't seriously written anything in the last few months. I need something fresh. Something that pops. Something that says to people I want to admit me into grad school that I am the next *insert name of their favorite author.* I also need something that doesn't use the word 'fresh' or 'pops' in it, as I don't want it set in the fifties.
I had a lot of fun writing those little short stories from those random ideas people gave me on here a few months back, so if anyone wants to throw out some more ideas I'd definately be interested. I have a lack of faith in my writing as of late, I think the reason I enjoyed writing those was because there wasn't anything riding on them. They were just for this blog and as such it didn't matter how good they came out. But when there is a lot riding on them I just don't trust my instincts on what I'm writing.
I've just been floating around a lot lately. I haven't gotten much done. Job hunting is a pain in the ass. But my jobs of late have been like bad relationships. I go in knowing its not going to last, I stay around until I just can't stand it anymore, then I break up suddenly with it. I get antsy easily. I have trouble staying in one spot for very long. The problem now is that its hurting my chances of getting other jobs. My resume reads like an ad for A.D.D., proof that I won't stick around in any job for more than a couple of months.
I've been thinking its probably time for me to get a serious girlfriend. But then I think that I'm not sure I'm really ready for any sort of actual commitment. I contemplated this the other night and realized I don't think I could handle the level of commitment needed to take care of a goldfish right now. Granted with a human I wouldn't have to take care of her so much as I would a pet, but still, we are talking hours a day devoted to spending time with another human. Hours at least. Maybe whole days. Though it would be nice to have some constant companionship, I can't help but think I would go insane being around someone else that often. Its just such a foreign concept to me. Then again it is possible that I've gone insane without that and I need that to go in the other direction, but that is a completely unproven theory at this point.
I don't know what the hell I'm talking about anymore so this is the end.
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2 comments:
Story idea: A farmer and a clerk stumble upon a smuggling ring and get involved as accomplices but soon get in way over their heads when a local detective gets suspicious and calls in government investigators. Set on the Western British Coast in the early 1800's.
You'll figure out the jobs/wimmin stuff. I have full confidence in you.
That sounds like a cool story but I don't know if I have time to learn the diction of 19th century Britain before this application is due. "Blimey, theres a bloody wicket of a big ol' group o' em gov'ment types comin' up, eh, eh? Ain't there, Blarney?!" Also I forgot to mention the character that said that might be retarded.
Thanks for the encouragement.
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