C-LEE-NING UP

"A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way." 

- Mark Twain

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Ringo.  He's gorgeous, isn't he?

Sometimes I wonder how he got so pretty.  The contrast in this picture made me think of a few interesting things, so I thought I'd sit down and share.  In about an hour, I'll have to get up and go to solo and ensemble, which basically means my group gets to play for a judge and then get a rating.  And that's all.  And we spend weeks and weeks stressing and preparing over it, only to have them rip us a new one with their comments or criticisms or suggestions.  Sometimes I feel like my characters do the same thing to me.

I've had some very strange writing experiences lately.  There are occasions where I will sit down at the computer and read over things and think to myself, 'Hey.  This sounds kind of familiar, but when did I write this?'  And other times, I'll sit down to reread something, and I'll want to hit myself.  Because it's so obviously not me writing.  It's the character, inserting themselves into a scene that they weren't supposed to, screwing up my plot, and messing with all my plans.  I'm addicted to those plans, but things really never turn out the way I want them to.  It's like my plans are all wasted, but they still help, so they're not?  It's confusing.

I've also had a few out-of-body experiences lately.  Or I've looked at people and I don't see them - instead I see a character.  Someone or something of my own creation.  It's confusing and weird and when I look back, the image is almost always gone, but it's so strange.  I get so attached to these characters that it's crazy.  I have so many of them.  It's a collection of all these people who practically live in my head, but I'm not sure where to put them all.

I feel like if I wrote something in the personalities of my characters - of everyone I write about, maybe if I blogged with them, I could do something I'd never managed before.  Writing in their personalities is one thing, but blogging about their day - in first person - would be different.  Very different.  It sounds so interesting and appealing that I think I'm going to do it.  I'll try to squeeze something in later so that I can test out this crazy new idea.  Maybe it'll help me write too.

But for now, I'm going to go shower and fix my hair and do girl things.  After all, I have to look nice for something that I'm going to get torn down for, right?  Not that I think we're terrible, but it's a few weeks early.  Too early to do this.  And I'm not really looking forward to it.

For now, I'm outta here.  I have to... do stuff.

So here I go.
-Lee

F-LEE-CE

"The best way to predict the future is to invent it."
 -Alan Kay

"You really don't know what you're talking about," he said firmly.  The other's grip on his arm was strong, but not too strong - he was sure he could break free if he really needed to.  "Would you let it go?"

"If by 'let it go,' you mean let go of you," she purred, simply clutching his arm tighter, "then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."

He wasn't quite sure how to respond.  "Uh..."  The verbal pause escaped from his lips before he could think about how stupid it must have sounded.  "Well..."

"Face it, darling," she said finally.  "It's either me or him.  Take your pick."

He frowned and the expression sat heavy on his cheeks.  "Neither," he said solemnly.  "Neither."

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There are things about life that I love, and there are things about live that I don't love.

Today is un día de estos - just one of those days.

It rained all day.  Weather here is so unpredictable, but I guess I'm used to it.  I even knew how cold it was supposed to be and everything, so I was warm and toasty in my nice winter jacket and everyone else was freezing their little butts off.  Honestly, I was quite pleased with myself.  But there was the fact that it's Friday too - that did help.  A little.

It would also help if I had fleece sheets.

This week was so ridiculously long, but looking back on it, it feels ridiculously short.  Where is all this time going?  There's so much I want to get done, but it feels like the clock is against me.  I never have time to do anything I want.  But that's a lie - again, the brutal honestly and lies sort of bleed together.  I guess that's why I like to write.  It's like combining your own experience and lies together and then showing it to other people for them to enjoy and criticize and pick apart.  Huh.

Anyway, I'm really feeling the whole 'starting something new.'  I have so many ideas, but I can't manage to get them all down in time, which is sad.  I end up losing things that I thought were really cool to begin with.  Like this morning, I had a very awesome idea, and now I think it might be sort of gone.  Not really there.  Depends on what I can get down on paper or typed up on the screen right now, but really - prospect's lookin' a little bleak.

Partly cloudy with a chance of rain, all right.

So.  I made a tiny bit of progress on the first item I would like, someday, to call a novel.  Instead of being all ridiculous and crack, it now has a few sentences more of sensible activity.  Dunno how long that's going to last, but at least I tried.

This new idea, I'm not sure where it's going to go.  So far, we have three characters - one whose first name is a fruit, one who might be likened to a Supreme Court Justice, and one named after Antonio Dvorak.  I'm not sure if that's going to change - it's highly likely - but I thought I'd get it all down.  The plot is a little iffy; and by iffy, I mean there might not be one down at all.  But I'm really working on it.  I might have to start little things first, because the prospect of writing a 900 page manuscript is a little daunting.  And I have to admit that that might be what my 'novel' turns into.  If I make you read it, it's only because I love you.

Blogging on this thing is good for my mental health, it seems.  I feel a lot calmer than I did when I sat down.  One more thing before I go - I want to talk about the little things that frustrate me to no end.

Sniffling.  Honestly, get off your butt and get a freaking tissue.  You don't have to sit there and sniffle incessantly until a teacher tells you - go US government - that nobody will laugh at you if you want to blow your nose.  Now go do it.  Before I murder something.

This guy in my orchestra class.  There's so much I could talk about disliking in him, but he just doesn't get it.  There are people that just don't get hints, but he's worse.  I drop hints.  I've said things loud enough for him to hear.  I have told him to his face.  He doesn't listen.  I hope something explodes near his face.  Rawr.

Not knowing things.  I like to know everything.  I like to know the future and the past and the present and everything in between.  I don't like surprises, I don't like cliffhangers, and I especially don't like puzzles.  Or those escape the room games.  Those drive me insane.  

I have to admit, though, that this blog is turning into a rant of things I dislike.  As good as it is for me, it's not interesting to read, so I'll peace out with a few more words.  I did some work today.  Not all of it was productive, but I worked.

I'm trying.  For now, I'm outta here.

So here I go.
-Lee

LEE-PING IN

"There's no place to hide - but I don't think I'm scared."

-This Side, Nickel Creek 

"You know, kid," she said with a mirthless smile.  The cut on her cheek was dripping.  One small drop of red-black blood fell to the ground; she had never bothered to stem the flow. "You really have no idea what you're getting yourself into, do you?"

"Of course I do," I answered with conviction.  I was proud of that - honestly, the woman was starting to send alarms off in my mind.  Master had pointedly told me to avoid her type.  "You can do your worst."

She was much faster than I had figured, and her figure belied that monstrous strength - a single blow, faster than I could follow, knocked me to the ground, and the night sky hovered over me.  The stars - I admired them before the world shrank to black.

Only this time, when I opened my eyes, the world was gone.

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I'm not a fan of blogging, to be honest.  And let me assure you, when I'm not lying to your face, I can be brutally honest.

Sometimes it's just difficult for me to sit down and try to put words to my emotions or put emotions to my words.  I'm not good at expressing myself because most of the time, there's no one around to listen.  Or if there is, I just don't trust enough to actually open up.  It's difficult to explain, and even more difficult to understand.  But I guess that's why we write - to understand ourselves more than we did before, a little bit each day.  Learning about yourself is a valuable lesson, sure.  But that's really not what I came here to blog about.

Lee is going to be an author someday.  Not that she enjoys writing in third person as a hobby, but because putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard is more than a hobby.  It's become that, over the years.  Because eventually, you find that when there really is nobody to talk to, the keyboard is all you've got.  And even though it can't offer advice or make you feel any better, the keyboard will be there for you, rain or shine.  Unless, of course, it breaks.  Then, well... there's always paper, right?

Anyway, I have to admit that I don't consider myself that much of an interesting person.  This blog isn't going to be filled with tales of adventures or wild teenage activities.  The most I do is maybe - oh God - stay up until eleven.  I like to sleep - I like it maybe too much - but I'm not going to let that get in the way of getting what I want.  Or who I want, but that's another story entirely.

I'm going to start this blog with my goals.  I don't have a lot of them, but they are serious goals and I'm going to accomplish them.  There is no question of if - only when.

Goal #1:
I will publish something.  It doesn't matter if it's a book of poems or a photo book of my cats.  Something of mine will be published.  I will be out there in the world.  I would definitely prefer if the something published was writing, but first I want to be out there.  I can worry about the little things later.

Goal #2:
I will learn.  Languages - I want to learn them all, the way your tongue curls for a Spanish 'r,' the way your inflection matters for Chinese 'cat.'  I want to learn languages so badly, but the education system in America seems to prevent me from doing too much.  This one might take a little more work than just typing, but I'm willing to put in the effort.  I want to learn.

Goal #3:
My writing will be finished some day.  I have so many things I want to work on that I can't get all my ideas straight half the time.  I want to create worlds - somewhere nobody can dwell in but those of my choosing, and it's already halfway there. There's so much out there for me to create, and some day, everything I want will be real.  It only takes some work on my part and the participation and encouragement of people who care - whoever they are and however much they do - and I'll be there.

Wish me luck, because I'm going to need it.  I'm not confident enough to do this on my own - much as I would like to be.  I'll do this, it just might take some prodding.  And a boost.  But I'm not giving up - not on this one.

So here I go.