I'll have to give this one a few days to "rest" before I decide if it's even remotely usable. I think it's a little over the top, but who knows. It seemed cool in my head, although most things do!

This would be an alternate intro to Sam Doleo, the current intro being him discovering his dead family in his home. Both are pretty dark, though this one is a little more.... "out there." My biggest problem is that I'm not sure that either scene fits in with the rest of the novel. I want it to be dark-ish, but maybe not this dark.




    Your God has come
    Don't fall away
    Everything's okay
    Spread your love
    Spread your love

Sam moved with the rhythm of the drums, unconsciously at first, deliberately as the hard beats of the music blended with his rage. It was one of his favorites in his early twenties. Heavy bass with a grunge band feel and raspy, almost whispered lyrics. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard it.

    Your God has come

He stood under the arched entryway to the underground city, the remnants of an ancient town paved over in the name of progress. Thin shafts of light knifed in from the cracks of the modern city above. His eyes were still adjusting to the dark. A wet musk felt thick in his lungs. He inhaled deeply.

    Don't fall away

He pulled a device from his pocket. It was flimsy -- he hadn't had the presence of mind to construct it with more care. His mind had been elsewhere, had been with his wife and sons. With their corpses.

    Everything's okay

From the archway he saw them. Dozens of them crawling around the ruins like vermin. Society's rejects. Perverted, diseased animals feasting on their own depravity. They preyed upon those who lived topside in the name of survival. Sam Doleo, now, preyed on them.

    Spread your love

The device, poorly constructed as it was, served it's purpose. On the streets above, Sam had placed six bombs, each one bigger than the next. He had rigged their sizable payloads to explode downwards into the ground; into the cesspool. Sam pulled the trigger on the device. All but two of the bombs detonated, raining fire and rock and vengeance down onto those dwelling in this God-forsaken place.

Not all of the inhabitants were killed by the explosions. In fact, many were not. Some even spotted their attacker, or perhaps they heard his wrathful screams as he stood with his arms spread like an eagle under the archway. Instinctually they defended themselves. Sam pulled his 9mm Westfall Police issued pistol from his belt and shot them. He killed four, five, six, maybe even seven of them. It was difficult to tell. The music was so loud.

    Spread your love

More came at him. He ran out of ammunition. He pulled the kitchen knife from his boot, the one his wife had used to cut the bread. With the beats of the drum, he slashed and clawed and bit and ripped his way through the mob. The music was deafening. He couldn't see through all the blood.

    Don't fall away
    Everything's okay
    Spread your love
    Spread your love

Hmmm, my last post was rather.... preachy and pissy. We'll pretend it never happened.....

<<

>>

So this summer is looking to possibly be an interesting one. I'm quitting Costco slave labor and taking a job as an Assistant Park Ranger! Unsure how this job will stack up against Costco, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that it'll be a tad bit better than "Would you like a box" for 8 hours (I'm pretty sure that the way I ask that question has a subtle yet unmistakable quality of bitterness and soul crushing emotional agony).

After that, I'm unemployed again. However, I am taking a Customs and Border Patrol Officer application test this Monday. Assuming I get through that OK and advance in their application process, I could possibly be off to their training camp in 8 months, but it might be closer to a year according to James.

Anyway, incredibly possible unemployment in September. Now, I realize that I took 3 months to "finish my novel" after college ended, but I looked at that more like a vacation and treated it as such. And, really, I don't think wanting 3 months of doing nothing after college was too much to ask. I did complete the 2nd draft, but ultimately it wasn't the all-encompassing "I want to submit this to literary agents" draft I envisioned. It was a 2nd draft. I'd fixed a lot of problems from draft 1, but I found plenty more and created quite a few as well.

As I've stated earlier, I've been working on a "Bible" of sorts for the book. Character outlines and plot fixes/streamlining/troubleshooting. Not done yet, but I think I've got a great handle on what I want to fix and how I want to do it. The problem, though, is actually implementing these fixes.

As I've learned the hard way, taking large breaks between working on this book is a bad idea. I forget the little details and things end up getting confused and muddled (I couldn't even write a character outline for one of my favorite characters because I'd forgotten how I'd written him). I need to work on it consistently and often, and with a very physical full time job it's just not something I've been doing. I have the time, sure, but this novel is definitely work, even if it's fun. And I can rarely bring myself to do more (very optional) work after 8 hours of pulling carts in a parking lot or standing at a register. I'm sure there are plenty of writers out there who'd say that that means I'm not a "true" writer and am not devoted to my novel, but I'm also sure that I'd love to give them a rope and have them haul carts for 8 hours and see what they feel like doing afterward. Procrastination, though, is also a factor.

Potential unemployment, though, means that I may have another rare opportunity to get a bunch of work done... possibly even a 3rd draft with all of these big changes I've planned out. I have to see what my situation is in September -- maybe I'll have found another job by then (I intend on looking) -- but if I'm truly without work, I really don't see the harm in taking a month and finishing a 3rd draft. I'm young, I'm single, I have money saved up, and I'll find a job eventually. When else will I have an opportunity like this to do what I want to do as opposed to do what I "should" do? 4 weeks of my life isn't going to be the deciding factor between me getting a job and ending up on the streets. It'll be a little blip, one that my future employers don't even have to know about.

During these 4 weeks, though, I would have to get very serious about the book. I'd have to treat it like a full time job, something I did not do (and am glad I didn't do, actually) last summer. 8 hours a day, possibly more, writing, rewriting, and reading. It'd be a huge undertaking and would require more self control that I think I currently possess, but it's really the only way to get this thing done.

Provenance needs a lot of work, that much is certain! It's not the book I want it to be. Only 1 person has read it from cover to cover w/o me bugging them about it. While it may be embarrassing to admit, most people have not had the desire to finish it in its current form. For a 2nd draft, though, I think that this is fine and isn't really that surprising. If somebody emailed me their rough draft novel, I can't say I'd be too keen on reading it either. I do think that my changes will help this problem quite a bit, though, and should bring it closer to the book that's in my head.

I'm a huge nerd when it comes to certain TV shows/books/movies. And by "huge nerd" I mean that I really get into certain stories and like thinking about their "layers" and deeper meanings. A good example of this is the show Battlestar Galactica. While I like the "pew-pew" spacefight aspect of the show as much as anybody, I REALLY liked the character drama, the religious themes, and the political subplots. That's what made the show truly interesting and unique. The scene where Baltar and his "head-Six" stand watch over their potential child in the Opera house with Bear McCreary's amazing score front and center was probably my favorite scene in the entire series. There were no guns in that scene, no spaceships, nothing of the sort. Instead, it was full of foreshadowing and mood. Was Baltar -- the man symbolizing the fall of man -- really part of God's plan for the humans? How was it all going to play out? What did it all mean?

That's good TV, and good storytelling in general. There was an epic sense to that scene that no amount of explosions or shooting could ever hope to achieve. In a similar vein, the scene where Adama and Admiral Cain plot each others' assassinations in a quick-cut sequence was equally jaw dropping. Again, no explosions, no action -- just dialog and two characters plotting each others' demise.

I also like to talk about these shows/books/movies with anybody who is willing. As such I post on a few message boards, offering quick little reviews of a show or trying to start a discussion. Recently, I posted on one of my most frequented boards (the Allegiance forums, populated by some people I've been playing games with online since I was 13) about how amazing I thought the BSG spinoff Caprica was.

Caprica is not BSG. There are zero space battles. It's a family drama, and it's being advertised as such. I didn't hold out much hope for it being very good (most spinoffs aren't), but after seeing the pilot I can safely say that it's far better than I expected. It had some incredible acting, some very interesting ideas, and a great twist on moral conflict that arises with the creation of a true AI.

So, I post about it on the boards. The first replies (and ultimately the only real replies I got before everybody started bitching at each other) are of course about how much it sucked. "Boring." "Soap opera." "No pew-pew in space so I'm not even gonna bother to watch it." And of course, the ultimate insult to the show -- "some of the papers didn't have their corners cut off." *

..... WOW. Are you KIDDING ME?? Are you only entertained by shit blowing up and people getting shot at??? Did you completely miss everything great about it because you were waiting for Stallone to blast out of a building and declare Rambo Law while he arm wrestled a zombie pirate???

These same people detested the final 2 seasons of BSG. And while the final 2 seasons -- namely the last half of season 3 -- weren't quite as engrossing as the first 2 seasons, they were still excellent stories and always had something interesting to say or to present to the viewer. But no, since there were no space battles, they were "boring," "soap opera," "filler," and "crap." The finale, the first half being pure action and the second half being pure character development, predictably received the "great first half, horrible second half" reviews.

These folks dwelling on the Allegiance forums aren't alone. There are a crazy amount of people who agree with them. If things aren't blowing up and aren't blowing up RIGHT NOW IN MY FACE, it sucks, is filler (which, as far as I can tell, is a term used for an episode without explosions), and that's that. There is no further discussion on the topic, just repeated statements that it was boring. And the paper didn't have corners cut off sometimes so it sucked.

Yeah. Fun. Let's discuss that.

On the flip side of the coin, we have the rabid fanbase of ABC's Lost. Now, I am a huge Lost fan. I've seen every episode -- some multiple times -- and have followed it religiously since I chain-watched the first season in my freshman dorm room. In the beginning, Lost was a very unique show and had a great core mystery -- What is the Island? We had monsters uprooting trees, strangers living on the island with unknown intent, creepy underground hatches, and main characters dying like redshirts in what appeared to be a possible pattern that related to the rest of the happenings on the island. It was pretty great.

Now, in season 5, we're time traveling around the island (that recently moved. Geographically.) and are currently living in the 1970's. John Locke has died a few times, is now resurrected by the island, the monster is a judgmental cloud that comes out of an ancient Egyptian grate in the ground, and about 4 different groups of people either want to get back to the island, leave the island, or do a combination of both while preventing the other folks from doing whatever it is they want to do. Oh, and do you know what lies in the shadow of the statue? Cause I sure don't give a crap anymore.

Needless to say, Lost is a pathetic whimper of it's former self. It's still mildly entertaining, and retains some of the key elements that make it watchable (mainly the characters and their respective actors), but it's all a bunch of sillyness these days. Whatever ending they have in mind for next year's final season is going to have to be downright genius if the show is to redeem itself, and something tells me it'll be just as convoluted as Hurley writing Star Wars while the other dude talks to dead people and drives a Volkswagen.

And of course, the show is getting praised for it's newfound awesomeness. People are eating it up and loving it. At the risk of sounding more condescending than I already am, these people are stupid. They are oblivious to how absurd the story is, and how self absorbed the show has become. There is no overarching theme, no message, no real intrigue or genuine mystery to it anymore.

People disliked the final seasons of BSG and now possibly Caprica for the same reasons they like Lost: Superficiality. Lost has become an incredibly superficial show, while the final seasons of BSG and especially Caprica were anything but.

Susan Boyle, the Britain's Got Talent star? Laughed at for her looks even before she opened her mouth. People immediately disliked her because of her below average looks. These people ended up looking very stupid, because Ms. Boyle can sing (imagine that -- singers who aren't also runway models. UNFATHOMABLE!). It's all the same thing -- people appreciating only the superficial, face value of things. They don't care about what's deeper. They just want what they can immediately get.

In a way unrelated to entertainment, I've read various stories in the popular media about how "hooking up" has largely replaced dating in my generation. Young people aren't dating anymore. There are fewer formal date nights and more casual sex with your friends. That right there is the ultimate in superficiality as far as I'm concerned. My generation is so absorbed with looks and first impressions that they'd rather have casual sex with dozens of people over the course of their youth than attempt to make a lasting bond with a few.

I'm too young to know if this phenomenon has been on the rise in recent times, but I just can't believe that the general populace has always been this... unintelligent. I'm fine with people wanting nothing but an escape in their entertainment (I love the show '24,' which is nothing but a slick, over-plotted shoot-em-up), but can't we also appreciate our entertainment for having a brain? Why does everything that goes "mainstream" have to be dumbed down to make a profit (see: the new Star Trek film, video games, film adaptions of many books, etc. etc.)?

Anyway, this has all just reaffirmed my decision that whenever I'm done writing Provenance, it's going to have substance. I can't say I have the writing skill to make it some literary work of art (in fact it's safe to say that it won't be), but it also won't be some stupid throw away action novel without anything to say. My inspiration for writing it was a novel just like this -- it was just boring, mindless action scene after boring, mindless action scene. There was no message, no theme, no character. I thought to myself: What the hell is the point of this novel? I could write a better story than this. So, I decided to try. And while what I currently have written down is probably closer to "mindless action novel" than "substance," I at least know where I've gone wrong and I have a definite plan on how to -- hopefully -- fix it.






*(In BSG, all paper had the corners cut off as a homage to the pilot episodes where the director did this to show that he cut corners financially while filming.)

Added a character outline for Veronica tonight. Next up is Jackson (that one will be a bit more difficult as I don't think I've quite nailed down that character like I have the main 3 protagonists), and then Sam Doleo, who is a little bit of a wildcard! He definitely doesn't fit in the triangle that John/Perry/Veronica form, so I'm not really sure what his purpose to the overall story is other than (vital) plot advancement. Guess I'll have to figure that out before I start doing rewrites! Maybe being the wildcard will be his "purpose" -- to add a bit of uncertainty to the mix.

I've also started reading my first Dean Koontz book, "Dean Koontz' Frankenstein," and he's an extremely good writer. I'm sure at this point he's got a staff of writers working for him, but reading such well written books makes me realize what's missing in mine... and there's a lot missing =) I'm definitely finding myself saying "I need more of that!" to the same types of things in every book I read, so hopefully I can change my writing style to add these elements. Alice Sebold's "The Lovely Bones" gave me a ton to think about as I prepare for rewrites (that book is a huge influence for this outline I've been working on, strangely enough), so hopefully Dean Koontz does the same thing.

Three months since my last post. In those 3 months, I did precisely 0 actual work on my novel. However, I have given it all an incredible amount of thought in those three months. In many ways I think that this pure "thinking about it" business is as important as writing it all down. My brain needs time to figure out how to fix it, what to focus on, what to remove, and how to communicate what I want to communicate. And, in many instances, figure out what it is I want to be communicating in the first place.

A couple of days ago I had a bit of a "thinking breakthrough" where I realized where I was going wrong with the theme of the novel. I was trying to be too "preachy" and trying to force the main character's development down the throats of the reader. He was going from "everything is meaningless" to "everything matters!" in a rather cliched fashion, and it felt forced, awkward, and uninteresting. I am not trying to write a novel that preaches God or the "real" meaning of life. I'm trying to write a novel that makes people think about these things, not force them to think about them one way or another. That was part of the "breakthrough" -- that I need to be focused on an overall theme of the story and how it will make the reader consider the ideas I want them to consider. I don't want to force my viewpoint onto the reader, because frankly I'm not sure what my viewpoint is. But that's what's interesting about it all, the pros and cons of both viewpoints (one being the atheist "nothing matters" and the other being the religious, God-fearing "everything matters." I lean more towards the God-fearing side, I suppose, but the "nothing truly matters" viewpoint is definitely an interesting prospect).

The other part of the breakthrough was realizing that the title of the novel -- Provenance -- is the perfect theme to refocus the novel around. If I do it correctly, focusing all of the characters, the plot, and the ending around the theme of "origins" and "provenance" and "consequences of these origins/'that provenance'" really, truly communicates why I am so interested in this story and why I get so excited about it. What I have written down is NOT what is in my head. The story in my head has weight to it, and what's written down is a little too light I'm afraid.

Also, I realized that my usage of the word "provenance" has taken a bit of an odd turn and I'm pretty sure I haven't been using it quite correctly like, ever. But whatever. Shakespeare made up words all the time. I'm just repurposing one slightly.

To anybody who isn't me, I'm sure this all is a bunch of gibberish, but rest assured it's all terribly important brain happenings. So much so that I just spent 3 or 4 hours (I lost track of time, as usual) writing a WordPad document entitled "Provenance 3rd Edition Revisions/Thematic restructuring/Character re-development." I fleshed out the 2 biggest characters in the novel (Uncle Salty Perry has been given a very detailed backstory that I should have written out about two years ago), but the majority of the time was spent writing out plot revisions, listing the problems with these revisions, and then writing down potential answers for these problems. I think I've solved a number of big issues with the plot from the first half of the book, though I'll have to go back through my notes tomorrow to see if I can write a coherent revised outline from my list of "answers" that doesn't require me to have to delete the entire 2nd half. If it will work like I think it will work, my solutions and revisions will definitely streamline the story and de-complicate the ending, which currently stands as my biggest headache.

Anyway, this is the first time since September that I've actually written anything constructive relating to the book. It's a ways from starting actual rewrites, but it's a huge step towards it!

It's been a long time since I've added to this! Too long, in fact.

This summer I finished a 2nd draft of my novel. At first I was quite proud of it, but as I distanced myself from it with school and work and time in general, I grew less and less satisfied with what is written down. The general traits of the novel are there. The general "vibe" of it is what I want it to be, which is an action/adventure with with some characters that, I feel, aren't instantly forgettable.

But, BUT! I want something different than what's there now. It needs streamlining, but it also needs a bit more complexity added to the characters. My main goal for this story is to deliver a "popcorn munching" action/adventure, but with characters that aren't disposable or forgettable. Right now I think I've got a fairly "munchy" plot, but the characters are more developed in my head than they are on paper. So that needs fixing, and I've got quite a lot of ideas on how to fix that.

The villain also needs a big change. In my head his motivations are somewhat nebulous, so I'm going to go out on a limb and say that on paper it's probably a bunch of crap. Soooo I'll fix that, too. I have a solution that'll be a lot of work and require rewriting pretty much every scene he's in save for maybe the last, but hopefully it'll pay off well.

I haven't actually sat down and worked on the novel since September, but I've thought about it every day, and a lot of my new ideas were generated by simply giving myself time to think about it all. My folks are in the (slow) process of editing it, and whenever they finish it, I'll get back into it and work towards the 3rd (and definitely not last) draft. I'm trying to do much more reading than I normally would, and I recently finished "The Lovely Bones." It gave me great ideas for how to better develop my characters (awesome book, by the way! Got a bit strange in the end, though). Next up is finishing "Clear and Present Danger."

Listening to Johnny Cash's song "The Man Comes Around" last night, I decided that what my story needed was a prophecy. The Johnny Cash song references the Book of Revelation, and it was really quite creepy. It gave me a feeling that I definitely would love to have in my book. I listened to the quote from Revelation, as well as the song, several times, and tried to pick out what exactly made it so mysterious. I borrowed some words from it and tried to emulate the general "vibe" of it.

I'm a bit hesitant to throw it in there, as it might be a bit too much of a cliche (and it might be extremely cheesy), but I think that in this story it fits. I don't plan on making it a central plot device, and I'm not even sure if I'll mention it again after the character recites it. Moreso, I think it works well as a good bit of quick character development and also gives the reader something to keep in the back of their mind. I don't intend for it to have any meaningful impact on the plot. It's more for the reader and more to solidify the at-odds relationship between 2 of the characters.

I took around an hour last night creating it, and considering which character is reciting it, I'm fairly pleased with it. Every word has a meaning in some way and references things that happen in this book and also things that will happen in the next 2 (Trilogy!). I definitely don't want somebody to read it and then immediately know the outcome of the entire trilogy, but I also don't want somebody who's read the book (or the as of yet unwritten sequels) to look back of it and not be able to make any sense of it. It's fairly cryptic, so I think I'm safe for now.

I'm nearing page 100 in my "Revamp" as I'm calling it in the file name ("ProvenanceRevamp.doc"). Unfortunately I'm adding 1000+ words every night I work on it (which has been the past 4 nights), which adds onto the already 400+ page total. But, I'm getting to parts that haven't gotten a good working over, which is good (good!). Unfortunately some of it is pretty shoddy, and I'm having a little bit of difficulty making it sound non-shoddy. I do believe that I've really improved in my writing skill as I wrote the first draft of this novel over the course of, what, 2 years? Unfortunately, though that means some of the earlier parts aren't as good as I'd like. The first 60 pages or so are pretty darn good, I'd say, but that's mainly because I've reworked them several times. I also am hoping that the final 1/3 is decently solid, as I wrote it at a much later date than the parts I'm currently going over. It all needs rewrites, obviously, but hopefully I'll be more satisfied with it. Regardless, I'm having a blast going over it and reading it.

Doing it nightly is definitely a key ingredient, as I have a very clear idea of what I want the story and characters to be doing as it goes without me forgetting during a long break between edits. There have been quite a few minor inconsistencies I've found and straightened out, which is great. I wrote the first 1/3 of the novel not really having a clear idea where exactly it was all going, who these people were, etc. I've always had the ending in mind, even before I had the beginning or any of the characters or anything like that, so it's not all off the top of my head... but I was generating the story and characters during that first 1/3, and it wasn't until a certain key scene change roughly 1/3 (maybe 1/2 if we're going by page numbers as opposed to "beginning/middle/end") of the way through the book that I knew exactly where I was going and who my characters were. This is probably a terrible writer's sin or something, but every time I sat down to do the prewriting plot/character development exercises, I felt like I wasn't getting anything out of it and didn't feel any "closer" to the plot/characters. As I'm editing now, though, I routinely find myself reading dialog or thoughts of my characters and thinking "Errr, he/she totally wouldn't say it that way," and then rewriting the line. Same with actions -- "he/she totally wouldn't do that" -- and same with plot ("That doesn't make sense here.") I find that to be a really awesome sign.

Hopefully ironing all of this out and having a really solid idea of the characters, setting, and plot makes for a more polished read than I had previously. In all reality I'm not really re-writing anything from scratch. I don't have the need -- what I have there is the story I want to tell, it just needs some additions, deletions, and editing... not an entire "select all --> delete --> start over" I've read that this is what many authors do (Tolkein supposedly started LOTR quite a number of times, only to toss out the draft and start from scratch... I'd probably find a new hobby if I found myself doing that. Something more enjoyable, like scratching my own eyeballs out. If Tolkein had had MS Word, I bet Hobbits would have been really big.)

I guess this all just comes down to the fact that nobody told me how to do this. I have no idea what I'm doing, really, and I'm just making it all up as I go. Like Indiana Jones.

I started a blog at Blogspot.com, but I prefer this site, so I shall blog here instead! Here are my entries from Blogspot:

Monday, February 25, 2008
"Lots o' blood. Very sad. Anyway..."

Last Saturday night I had the urge that occasionally hits me to work on Ye Olde Novel. I started near the beginning, and just began editing things and fixing problems as I came across them while adding a minor subplot (which is intended entirely as a form of character development and comic relief). Today I continued, and I think I'm getting some really top quality changes in. I'm always afraid that my editing is going to make it worse, but I do believe that I'm improving the quality of the story 90% of the time. That other 10%... we just won't talk about that.

I suppose it's a good sign that I actually enjoy reading my story... it's been quite awhile since I've read certain parts of it (there are some parts I probably haven't even read since I wrote them, mainly in the middle. That's definitely a sign that it's nowhere near finished... or maybe it's a sign of pure brilliance!), and more often than not, I read over them and find myself getting sucked into the story. I suppose this could be because I wrote it and obviously it's the type of story that I'd want to read (as I wrote it!). Usually, though, when one writes something, then steps back for awhile, and goes back to re-read it at a later date, it's more like reading what somebody else wrote (and one generally vomits). I can safely say that I'm not at all unpleased (displeased? Which one is a real word and which one did I just make up?) with what I have... most of the time. I obviously edit things and change dialog around and, in today's case, dramatically change the end of the story with a simple gender change (No, there are no hermaphrodites in my novel... OR ARE THERE?!?!). But the general story and the general flow of things, I believe, aregood enough to warrant my continued work. GO ME YAY.

Also I'm back on a Firefly binge. It's been many fortnights since I've watched the series, and as long as I force myself to take a year off between viewings, it's almost like watching it for the first time each time I see it. Of course I commit certain lines and jokes to memory with each additional viewing, but with 15 episodes, there is usually something I'd forgotten about that makes me love the series all over again. And the R. Tam Sessions on YouTube are disturbingly brilliant!

Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Subplot! And Survivor!

I've decided to add an entire subplot to my novel! This is a pretty big deal, but I think it'll go a long way of increasing the readability and enjoyment of the novel. I had a character in my head very vividly drawn out, but he had a unfortunately minor part in the novel. I figured I'd just make him more of a central character in any sequels I wrote, but the chances of me ever getting THIS one published, let alone having the time and motivation to write a sequel to an unpublished novel... I figured I'd solve some of my plot problems by tying loose ends together and un-vaugifying parts by adding in a subplot focused on this character. I've written the first half of a chapter, and I really am liking where it's going. It fits with the novel really well, I think. It'll probably be awhile before I get it done, but as I did with the novel, I have the whole story plotted out in my head. I just need the time to sit down and write it.

I find it a bit of a mystery where these plots come from. I can see definite influences from all of the TV shows and movies I've seen (and of course novels I've read), but I'm pretty confident that I'm not blatantly ripping off plots and characters and what not. I've never come close to anything resembling "writers block." The only reason I haven't written all 3 novels in my planned trilogy (HAH AH, that is so much work) is lack of time and motivation. The story is there, and given enough time and willpower, I could quite literally sit down right now and write 2 more novels. No problem. They'd need editing and rewrites and all that good stuff, obviously, but I can gaurantee I'd never have to stop for long periods of time for lack of an idea. The plot of 2 more novels is all up there, with potential character arcs, new characters, scenes beginning/middle/end, all of it. Any holes I'm totally confident would be filled in as I went.

I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. I read about other authors lamenting over their writer's block and how difficult it is to come up with an idea and how they slave over plots and make flow charts and diagrams and brainstorm, and I'm sitting there thinking "Um... yeah... totally.... heh... heh..." while I replay the entire story in my head at lightning speed. I see it all like a movie in my head, and I just need to sit and write it down. Maybe I should do some of these pre-writing activities? I'm so completely new to all of this, I don't know what I should be doing, and what I can safely skip since I already have everything (basically) planned out.

Aaaanyway, enough of that. Changing subject, I would like to urge Planet Earth to give the TV show Survivor another chance. If you can ignore the drama and the occasional hack-job editing, it really is a great escapist show. Seasons 9-15 are on iTunes for $20 a pop. I blew the majority of my $75 iTunes gift card on these and am loving every overly dramatic, you-shouldn't-be-wearing-a-bathing-suit-on-national-TV moment of it. One of these days I'll send in a submission... maybe I'll go find a Grizz and kill it with my bare hands. They'd be all "HOLY FRICK THAT GUY JUST KILLED A GRIZZ WITH HIS BARE HANDS" and hand me the million dollar check. I'd just smile and take a bite of still-beating Grizz heart.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Progress?

Today marks some random number of days since I began writing my novel. I'd pull up the calendar and give a more detailed estimate, but I'm lazy and nobody (including me) cares. We'll say 503 just because that's one kickass number.

The idea came to me like a really old, old dog attempting to fetch. It was somewhat deformed and not entirely coherent, but it showed promise. (Obviously the dog analogy is the reverse of this, since the old dog, in younger years, did show promise, and now does not. But you get the idea. I do, anyway.) I threw down my Biology book I was studying onto the ground in dramatic fashion (picture a slam dunk, but with a hardwood floor replacing the hoop, and a giant 3,000 page hardcover textbook replacing the ball) and got to work. Four hours later, I had the beginnings of my glorious novel, none of which was any good. The idea was there, though, much like that old, old dog is there... just not really worth anybody's time.

Add in some long hours of furious writing, long periods of deep thought processes, and even longer periods of completely ignoring it, and I had a "finished" manuscript. By "finished" I mean a coherent story that would print out to be around 300 "book pages," but not "finished" in the way that that old dog will be any day now. There's more to be done (a freaking crapload more, which is a scientific form of measurement I'll have you know), but I've got what I need to make it worth somebody's time. Somebody with money. Lots of money. And women.

That's the basic story (not of the novel, but of the novel. Get it?). I submitted the novel to Amazon.com's "Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award" contest (ABNA), but didn't manage to make it past the first round of cuts. I could write an entire novel (LOLz) about that contest, but it's easiest to say that the only reason I didn't advance is because one single amateur book reviewer didn't like it. Granted, I'm well aware of how much work needs to be done to it, but I daresay I'm not all broken up because one random dude or dudette didn't likey. I also daresay I won't use the word daresay again... or will I?!?!

At some point in the near future I'll post about the hilariousness of some of the people in that contest, but I daresay that is for a later time.

Recently, though, I've started re-writing and re-working the story, starting at the beginning. My ultimate goal is to flesh out the characters quite a bit more, and also to add a sizable amount of humor. There's humor there already, of course, but it needs more. DELICIOUS HUMOR, YES, PRECIOUS!!!

Incase I didn't mention this in my first entry, the title of this blog is taken from one of the later chapters in my novel. It's a pretty stupid line with extra cheese, but I daresay I love it to death. I are genius!

Saturday, January 19, 2008
My non-first blog!

I've actually started TWO blogs before. Unfortunately I suck at some things pertaining to sticktoittoitiveness, but this one is different.

I will not be writing about my personal life and my needs and desires and all that crap that nobody cares about. My personal life is fairly boring, and I generally think about it when I'm having trouble sleeping. Works brilliantly.

What I will be blogging about is my attempts at writing and publishing a novel, as well as anything else I want to. When I am published, which will happen mind you, this blog will serve as a time capsule documenting my brilliance. so STFU and read damnit!

Or is it dammit? The wise and noble Firefox spell checker says Dammit. But the word "Damn" is spelled... um... like that. "It" is invariable. So Damn it = dammit? Kinda sounds like a cop-out to me. Like sammich.

So what we've learned here is that dammit is to sammich as vapid whore is to Paris Hilton? Yes!

Sooo, I'm going to enter it here, just incase I become wildly famous and have no time for such things in the future:

I was studying for my biology exam, and a crazy good idea for the end of a story popped into my head. It was a really badass, "6th Sense" type twist. I was like "Damn, that's really awesome..." So, I neglected studying for the rest of the night and stayed up till 4am writing out the basics. I really had no idea where I was going, but I just started writing whatever came to mind and whatever I thought sounded "cool." I've wasted a lot of my life watching these overly-serialized TV shows and reading the Harry Potter novels... but, all of that made me want to write my own story and create my own characters. So, finally, I came up with a good idea, and I'm now sorta obsessed with it.

For the past 3 nights or so I've sat down and typed out more, added to it, changed things, etc. I've come up with an entire make-believe world and I have some characters w/ some backstory all plotted out in my head. As I go, I think of something "neat" to put in, so I go back and make some sort of reference in the opening paragraphs so it all fits together. I'm having a total blast, and I'm really excited about it. No idea if anything will ever amount to it, or if I'll ever finish it, but right now I'm planning on working on this all summer. I had a few people read what I've written so far, and they liked it, but they were also friends or family, so they are biased =P In my opinion it's pretty good so far... it's not perfect by any means, and it needs a lot of editing, but every night I go through and fix things, change things, etc. Eventually, I hope that it turns into something really awesome. Who knows, maybe in a couple years I'll be a published author :P If anything, I can use it as a kickass icebreaker at parties. "Hey, so, I WROTE AN EFFING NOVEL."

I'm pretty sure that nobody will ever read this, but whatever =)

Been awhile since I updated! Although nothing of any importance has happened - still at school, still mildly bored, still waiting for summer to come so I actually have something to look forward to every day that doesn't involve being lectured at and tested on things that I honestly don't really care that much about (DAY CAMP! Even though I was TOTALLY sick of it last year, I don't think I've ever been this excited for camp to start)!

My newest obsession (changes about once every two weeks) is back to Harry Potter. I've discovered a pattern of obsession with Harry Potter that crops up about once every 2 years, maybe a bit less. I vividly recall finishing book #5 back several years ago and being completely, 100% obsessed with the series and the characters, not knowing where to go to get my fix so I could go worry about something else... but, like anything, it passed, and eventually I reach a point where I actually start to think that I've lost all interest in the series and have "outgrown" it. Then last year we had the new movie and the new book... I don't recall getting *TOO* obsessed with the series (I never even managed to re-read any of the books around that time), although I'm sure I did to some extent. But it passed fairly quickly.... until 2 weeks ago when, being bored at home on the weekend, I opened Mom's copy of the newest Harry Potter movie (which I saw in theaters) and watched it. Suddenly I had the urge to read book #5, which I finished in less than a week (it's like 850 pages), staying up till 2-3am, even though I already knew how it all turned out. This week I re-read book #6, and last night I stayed up till freakin' 4am to finish it, even though, once again, I knew exactly how it ended. OBSESSED I TELL YOU!!! I had to really talk myself out of walking down to B&N today to buy a hardcover of book #4, which I plan to start re-reading this weekend (the copy is at home).

ANYWAY, I have to read 1-2 more of the books and then I'm sure my interest level will (hopefully) start to die down a bit... if not I'll end up re-reading the whole series and I won't have anything else to read, so I'll just naturally gravitate towards something else, ha ha. I'm pretty sure that my fascination with this particular book series is the friendships between the characters... in movies and what not, it's very common for there to be a few people who are complete, die-hard friends who are closer than family. They have adventures and stories to tell that make anything in real life look like a complete snoozefest (which is, of course, why they write a book or make a movie about it). In real life (or at least in Garet-life!), nothing like this has really happened since college started, and I don't really get that "comradary" feeling anymore anywhere outside of Daycamp with my coworkers, which is a brief 2.5 month break from the tedium that is the UW campus... 9 months out of the year I'm pretty much on my own, which is fine, but it gets pretty boring and I rarely have anything interesting happen at school. Summer is when I get my stories =) I probably COULD write a book or make a movie about my past 3 summers - they've been, for the most part, pretty fantastic. I'm not quite sure what will get me motivated to move back here next year, but I assume I'll get tired of Camp and be ready to get on with school. Begining of this year I had the single room to look forward to, and I thought I had a girlfriend-in-the-making, but this coming September the single room will be old hat, and I'm pretty sure there will be no girl this time, unfortunatly! Oh well...

Looking back on Highschool I had a lot more of a social life, and strangely moving to college, it's gotten a lot less interesting (which is totally opposite of what most people were telling me was going to happen! I attribute this mostly to not drinking... everything social around here revolves around alcohol). Now, granted, I wasn't exactly Mr Social during highschool, but in retrospect I had a much more varried day-to-day life than I do now... I still look back on the 3 week period of when I worked on the stage crew for the play as the highlight of highschool... I had a girlfriend (who was in the play) and hadn't quite realized that we didn't quite match up right (ignorance is bliss, ha ha ha), and I was doing what I loved to do for long parts of the day. I plan on joining up with a stage crew at the UW next autumn, but somehow I doubt it'll be quite as fun as highschool was... in highschool, it wasn't overly serious, and I instantly became a very important member of the stage crew the second they had me painting sets, heh heh. I'd imagine that at the UW, you have to work your way up a bit, and it's a bit more formal and organized (which is of course never as fun). If only I had joined the stage crews my freshman year, I'd probably have had a much better time at highschool... that's really my only regret about highschool - not joining up with the drama dept. I suppose the same can be said for college - I probably should have tried harder to join something like this my first quarter here, but I didn't quite get how all this stuff works (now I do, however). Oh well... I'll join next year, and if it's any good, I'll have 2 years to do it.

So I have a midterm tomorrow that I REALLY don't want to study for right now (Bio180... bit bland) and a Stage Design project due on Monday, which I haven't started and am not 100% sure how to do =) Week 5 starts Monday, which means 6 weeks (7 including finals, though I never include finals, too depressing) to Daycamp and actually having somewhat of a life again, ha ha ha =)

Wheww... that got long...

Just a week left and it's break time...

I was telling The Father that college definitely makes you appreciate a couple weeks off... as I told him, it's really not THAT much work if you compare it to say a 40 hour a week job, but just the fact that I have to live here and am CONSTANTLY thinking about due dates and learning new material that it's more than a full time job. I probably spend a lot less time per day actually studying/going to class/going to lab than I spend over the summer at daycamp, but work feels like a vacation compared to this (usually...). I can only imagine how horribly strung out people taking more than 15 credits are feeling.

I do think that, in general, I spend less time on school work than most people here do, but it's always been that way. I manage to generally stay above the average in my classes, though, so that's acceptable, especially at the UW.

It may just be a defensive stance on the matter, since I'm not getting straight A's anymore, but I honestly don't see the need to get 4,0's here in classes like Chem and such... if I'm just going for a BS degree in Bio, which only requires like a 2.5 out of all classes, why on earth would I absolutely kill myself in pursuit of the 4.0 pipe-dream? When I graduate I'll have the same degree as that kid who 4.0'd every class - what did he accomplish besides some short-lived bragging rights? Granted it is totally important to do well at college - it isn't cheap - but I do think there's a line between doing well and going overboard with it. I feel that as long as I understand the concepts and do above average (and, in some classes, average...) in the classes, I've done my part.

But hey, if I get another 3.9 out of a class (Bless you, Astronomy 101 and Phsychology 101), I won't be complaining about it...

I suppose if I had plans for Grad school I'd be singing a different tune, but I'm pretty much done with school once I get the 4-year (or perhaps 5 year... ha ha ha) degree.

Yeah so I went a bit insane last night. At 1am or so I listened to a song called "Signs", which basically freaks me out if I listen to it when I'm tired and it's dark outside. I suddenly had the overpowering urge to get out of bed and go write about it. I ended up staying up till 4:10am, the night before a midterm (WHICH I DID AWESOME ON... I think), writing an essay that I totally didn't have to write. What the crap is that all about?? This whole single-room thing is totally screwing with my head!! =P

So anyway, it's super long, BUT HERE IT IS IN ALL OF IT'S (unedited and unproofread) GLORY!

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I’ve told this story a dozen times to a dozen different people. I’ve told it quickly without much detail and I’ve told it with every minute bit described as best I could. Every time I tell somebody, the impact is never what I intend. Usually I get a nod of slight interest or a small reaction of surprise. Even my friends who were there with me don’t seem to have been as effected as I was by it, and seem to think I exaggerate when I talk about it. On the contrary, I think I tend to downplay how I felt at the time because I feel awkward making it out to be a big deal, when everybody else is silently letting me know that it “wasn’t a big deal.” In hindsight, my reactions at the time were gross overreactions, and of course everything worked out perfectly, save for maybe a strain on an already awkward friendship. But that’s in hindsight – when considering only what information I had at the time, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t go camping or go on extended trips with my friends very often, I’m not sure. Either way, that night had a much larger impact on me than I can seem to relate by verbally telling this particular story in addition to what happened at the very end of the summer.

At the beginning of the summer of 2005 I went on a camping trip with my closest friends - Tyler, Eric, Angela, Rachael, and Nick. The camping trip started off on a sour note – our intended campsite (the Washington coast) had a weekend forecast of clouds and rain. I tried to coax the group into heading up over the mountains to sunny Eastern Washington, but ultimately due to time constraints we headed for the coast.

On the way down I rode with Angela and Rachael. At the time I still was rather fond of Rachael and in the back of my mind was hoping perhaps we’d “hook up” again on the trip. Of course this wasn’t based in reality at all, but I couldn’t help thinking about it. Our relationship was already rather strange, since it had been made clear several times that I had a hard time trying to “just be friends” with a girl whom I cared for so much, yet she was fine with it. As much as somebody can’t date a person whom they aren’t attracted to, it is equally hard for somebody to remain casual with a person whom they are attracted to. Regardless, it is safe to say that my mind wasn’t equally divided amongst the group, just as it hadn’t been on the previous year’s camping trip.

Upon arriving to the coast (after listening to the song “Signs” by the Five Man Electrical Band over a dozen times in the car), the weather was surprisingly nice. After a hysterical failed attempt at putting up a tent with many missing pieces, we successfully erected our brand new Wal-Mart tent. After the darkness set in, we headed out to the beach for some late-night rough-housing in the sand. It was an odd, enclosed feeling being out on an unfamiliar beach so late at night (it was around 9 or 10, I believe). I felt very secure and happy that night, tackling my friends and hiding in the dark, and running up behind them screaming rather loudly. There was a very light rain and a slight, cool breeze that night, which had me worrying about the next few days.

The next day was amazingly sunny and warm, requiring the application of sunscreen and sunglasses. I went out for a walk with Rachael (at my request) on the beach in the morning, and we began to build sandcastles. Eventually everyone else showed up and we spent the vast majority of the day building (and destroying) sandcastles as a bunch of children would (and, of course, throwing the girls in the water when they weren’t expecting it). Later in the day, Eric began digging a hole in the ground which became quite large. After he’d dug out the majority of it, I helped him make it even bigger. At our friend’s goading and my odd exhibitionist desires (it’s all about people’s reactions), we stripped down to our boxers and posed for various pictures sitting in the mud hole. Eventually we placed a large piece of driftwood in the hole, and the ocean filled it back in, leaving the large driftwood sticking straight out of the ground. Later we would use this as a sign for where we were on the beach. (Tyler’s obsessive desire to dig a trench from the Pacific to our hole to sabotage it still makes me laugh to this day, five months later.)
That evening, after we’d all gone back to the tents for awhile, we split up into several groups and went off in different directions. Tyler and Rachael went off on a walk down to our newly situated beach marker, while Nick, Angela, and Eric remained at the camp. I decided to follow Tyler and Rachael and jump out of the woods when they returned to the camp. I stalked them out to the beach, running low and diving into the grass where applicable (and ignoring the odd looks from the other beach-goers). After about an hour of them sitting on the log, Nick showed up unaware of my presence. I called him over and told him to distract the two while I ran up behind them. Of course it failed miserably and I sprinted back into the woods. To make a long story short, Eric met up with me and had the brilliant idea to hide in the trees. On their way back, sure enough, we got a great scream from Rachael. Of course, the reason for the whole stalking was because I was hoping for some attention from Rachael. At the time I wouldn’t admit that that was the reason, but obviously I wouldn’t have sat in the bushes and gotten eaten by mosquitoes for two hours had it only been Tyler. I blame the hormones.

The night in the tent was a good one, with a full on pillow fight and a bunch of ridiculous jokes and one-liners. The following day was much less frivolous. It was much colder outside and the sun had disappeared behind the clouds. I went out with Rachael on the beach again, but no sandcastle building this time. We went back to camp and the whole group decided to head up North and explore the beach. At that time Eric and I were still trying to throw Rachael in the water, though I believe it was getting a bit tiresome for everybody at that point. The whole group seemed a bit less excited to be there, and I got the impression that everybody was ready to leave. Eric had been planning on leaving that night along with Rachael. Of course, we began begging the two to stay until morning, when the whole group was leaving. Eric was adamant on leaving, and Rachael was doing whatever Eric was doing. We pleaded and offered deals, tried manipulating him, everything. He seemed very convinced on heading back as to not miss any classes that Monday.

That afternoon, which was still cold, cloudy, and somewhat depressing, Angela, Tyler, Rachael, and I went out into the local towns to go shopping. One of the various stores we entered was an old antique shop full of an assortment of random decorations and items. I looked around the store, feeling a bit out of place, when a sign caught my eye. It hung above a stairway, strangely out of place itself. It read “Don’t Rock the Boat.” A cliché, to be sure, but for some unknown reason I was completely awed by this sign. I was mere inches from purchasing it, though I felt I had no use for it. Why would something so simple and so ordinary cause me to literally stop dead in my tracks and stare at it? I was thinking about it the whole way back to the camp, regretting my decision not to buy it.

After reaching the campsite, the group decided that we needed some sort of game to play that night. Having successfully convinced Eric and Rachael to stay the next night (following removing the spark plugs from his car and using an unfair amount of peer pressure), it was clear that everybody needed a distraction from each other, and a board game would be a good means to focus our attentions. Tyler, Angela, and I headed into town to buy some sort of game. Of course, we never found a game, but we had a good time shopping around Wal-Mart and buying random items that we really didn’t need. We left Wal-Mart defeated on our board-game quest and returned to the camp.

Arriving at around eight, it was dark, cold, and drizzling out. The campsite was a mess and all of our belongings were soaked. Nick was the only one in the tents, and he told us that Eric and Rachael were out on the beach. Tyler and I decided to head out onto the beach and meet up with them. Of course, had it been perhaps Eric and Nick out there, I would have stayed back and probably fallen asleep. But Rachael was out there and I felt the desire to go out in the dark once again. We headed out on the beach and walked a good ways North calling their names and looking for clues to which direction they took. A pair of boys walking South informed us that “nobody” was up North, which caused us to turn around and head South for a ways. Using our protruding stump as a marker, we walked a few hundred meters South and saw no sign of them.
Heading back to camp, I began to feel worried and slightly concerned. It was dark, they didn’t have cell phones, a flashlight, or warm clothing in the drizzle and wind. Tyler and Nick were unconcerned and brushed off my wariness as overreacting and “jumping the gun.” Angela, however, was equally concerned. I decided that if by 9:15 they weren’t back at camp, I was going to go out and try to find them again. 9:15 comes around and there is no sign of Eric or Rachael. I recruit Angela and Tyler to come out with me as Nick stays back to call us incase they sneak in behind us. I take a flashlight, a light jacket, and a pocket knife. I send Tyler and Angela up North to look for them while I head South by myself. At this time, the “Signs” song begins repeating in my head, with the booming chorus “Sign, sign, everywhere a sign” blasting in my head, as it had most of the trip. I begin a brisk jog up the beach, using the driftwood post, once again, as a sign to my location on the beach. This time, however, I do not feel safe and secure out on the beach. The prior feeling of being enclosed and happy have been replaced with an eerie feeling of being extremely alone and unsure of what lies in front of me. The flashlight illuminates very little, and the water condensing on the lens dims it considerably. What it does illuminate casts long, oddly shaped shadows up and down the beach. Behind me I can see nothing, up ahead – nothing. Complete darkness on all sides, with only the knowledge of what it looked like in the light to guide me. Vast, flat emptiness to my right, a dark and foreboding forested area a hundred meters up to the left. I am alone, and never before was I so keenly aware of it.

Calling their names, the song began to reach my lips and I started to hum the chorus. “Sign, sign, everywhere a sign. . . do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?” I started to realize that it was an odd pairing, Eric and Rachael, since they had been the ones we practically forced to stay an extra night. My mind began to race. What if something did happen to them? What if some psycho tried to grab Rachael, in the dark, and both were in serious trouble? What if somebody had stumbled into the black water and been sucked out by a riptide? What if . . .? I began to feel a bit panicked. I had forced them to stay, I had changed their plans. I had . . . I had rocked the boat. “Signs, signs, everywhere a sign . . . do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?” The song was audible in the silence, my mind racing, the antique store sign hung in front of me. My hair stood on end, I pulled out the knife in defense, and I whipped all around shining the flashlight in as wide of an area as I could manage, briefly brightening the dreary surroundings and the falling rain. With the song blasting in my head and the image of “Don’t Rock the Boat” matching with grotesque images of my friends in trouble, I turned around and began jogging up North towards Tyler and Angela. After I managed to calm myself down a bit, I called them on the phone and told them they weren’t up this way, and I was headed back to them. After a long run, I finally saw their flashlight in the distance and began to calm down. I wasn’t alone anymore – I could see them, I could see the pole in the ground, a sign of familiar, safe territory. Never before in my life have I felt so completely isolated and alone. That mile of beach I had covered could have been a thousand miles – had I come across something desperate or something dangerous, nobody and nothing was there to help me.
After reaching them I had calmed myself down considerably and began thinking ahead. If they were in trouble, which seemed the only conclusion as I had run a good mile South, we couldn’t just sit by and wait longer. If they were in trouble, wouldn’t they want us to help them? If they weren’t in trouble, that’s great, we’ll all laugh about it later. Tyler didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but Angela saw my predicament. If they were in trouble and needed our help, we’d be a bad excuse for friends if we ignored the signs and wasted more time waiting for them. We headed back to camp praying to find them, only to be greeted by a lonely Nick.

I called 911 after a few minutes of deliberation, feeling it was the only option available. I had described my odd revelation on the beach to Angela, and she seemed to have an understanding as to why suddenly I was extremely serious about making sure they were OK. I may have been basing my decisions on a somewhat odd superstition, but obviously that moment out on the beach had a large impact on me.
Waiting for the emergency responder to show up, I began to feel very worried for Rachael. Eric, I felt, would be fine. He’s a tough kid, he’ll be back. Rachael, however, I was worried sick over. I told Angela this and she shared my worries. We individually said a prayer and hoped for the safe return of our friends. At this time it was close to 11pm, nearly three hours after they had gone on a “quick walk.” I was soaked to the skin from the rain, tired, and scared. It took a lot of time before I felt it appropriate to go sit in the warm car – but I was quickly running out of energy waiting for the responder.
After what seemed an eternity, I received a few more phone calls and the responder showed up. He was to drive out on the beach a few miles and look for them, taking their descriptions from me. He headed out, and twenty minutes later, a phone call let us know that he had found them. They arrived back to the camp, as cold and miserable as me and Angela, but completely fine. Was I happy and relieved? Of course – but at the same time I was furious. They were fine? Nothing was wrong? What the hell happened? I had just had quite possibly the most frightening moment of my life out on that beach because they had walked too far and lost track of time? After receiving no hugs or thanks or anything other than a quick “sorry,” I angrily asked “What the hell happened?” and walked back into the tent and went to sleep.

Once again, in retrospect, I should not have been angry at my friends. That was a mistake and I regret it. I should have given them a huge hug and laughed about their silly mistake, cracked jokes, etc. But in all honestly that’s irrelevant. Everybody was OK and it seems that my “revelation” on the beach was nothing but my mind being overly dramatic. . . or, was it?

When the emergency responder showed up, I recall feeling safe and secure once again. He was there to help and we – I – was no longer alone. Earlier that year my grandfather had passed away in a less-than-desirable manner. He was bleeding out on his hospice bed, with my parents trying to clean up the blood as it came. We decided that we couldn’t handle the amount of blood and called 911. The EMTs/Paramedics showed up and suddenly everything was OK – my grandpa would be in good hands during his final hours. I went with my Dad and Uncle to the hospital and was there as long as we could be before exhaustion set in. The following month, my cousin’s grandma (sort of a 3rd grandma) was going through the hospice program as well. I was there when the EMTs showed up and took her away, relieving an incredible amount of stress from my already taxed Aunt.

After the camping trip, I began my regular summer job at the day camps. On the last Monday of the last week, I decided to bring my own personal music in to play on the radio. One of my selections was “Signs” by the Five Man Electrical Band. That morning I played the song repeatedly, probably close to six or seven times. I was singing it and humming it all morning and into the early afternoon. The morning went as usual, and we headed to the park. Our walk over was briefly interrupted by an ambulance racing somewhere outside of Redmond, while I was humming “Signs.”

Out at the park that day, we set up the usual game of Capture the Flag for the children. I was off to the side with James, my co-worker, and David, the much disliked city Intern who was filling in for lunch breaks. We were having a quick conversation about if we should be more active in the game or let the kids go at it. All summer we’d been having issues with the children not liking our specific rule-set for Capture the Flag, so we figured we’d just let them enjoy themselves. One kid in particular, Mikey, was out on the field being the flag guard. Mikey had a tendency to get angry at the other children for things they didn’t do, and to exaggerate things to draw attention to himself.

Immediately after we had decided to not participate in the game with the kids, one of them runs up and tells us that somebody is hurt. I look up, and of course, it’s Mikey. He’s standing up and screaming about how some kid broke his leg. I casually walk over and tell him from a distance “Mikey, dude, if your leg was broken, you’d be on the ground screaming your head off.” Not looking at me or anybody in particular, he screams “That kid broke my leg! It bends the wrong way!” I say something along the lines of “You’re fine, dude, calm down.” I finally reach him and kneel down, and lift up his short leg. I see some blood and figure that perhaps he cut himself on a stick.

At this point, I don’t recall exactly what happened, but somehow I end up standing over him and notice that his shin bends at a very odd angle. It looks like a piece of spaghetti, and there is a bone sticking out underneath his sock. A brief moment of panic flashes through me as I think to myself “Holy shit, he isn’t kidding.” It should be noted that I do not regularly swear in day-to-day life. I recover from my half second panic attack and calmly tell the other kids to back off and to give us lots of room. I desperately try to remember what the first aid course told me to do in this situation, but I can’t remember anything of use. He begins grabbing at his leg and I somewhat recall him moving the lower half around, showing me how it bends the wrong way, screaming about the pain. Surprisingly unconfident in my knowledge, I quickly tell him to not touch it and to lay there and look at me. I calmly talk to him about other things and try to get his mind off of it as best I can. The intern, after letting out a rather feminine yelp at the sight of the break, is on the phone with the 911 operator. I do not feel scared or panicked, though my hands are shaking a bit due to the adrenaline. I sit there, alone with Mikey in the middle of the fields, with “Signs” coursing through my mind. Mikey’s mother and the EMT show up, and I walk back to the rest of the kids and try my best to resume the day.

One might find it a coincidence that both the night I find myself in the middle of a beach completely alone on a dark, stormy night and the day I witness firsthand a very serious injury to another person, I had a song about “Signs” running through my mind. I, however, do not think it was merely a coincidence. I do not think that the song itself is directly about paying attention to signs in one’s life – however, when standing alone, the chorus definitely does, and it has definitely impacted me. (The strained friendship with Rachael – I sent a few rather gushy emails and tried to explain this whole thing to her, which didn’t turn out as expected – was maybe a sign to move on.) I have suddenly become extremely interested in becoming an EMT or even a Paramedic. Right before all of this happened, I meet a girl whom is actively perusing a career in this field.

Was the sign “Don’t Rock the Boat” intended to steer me into doing something that maintains lives, into something that keeps things running smoothly? Or was it nothing, and I’m reaching a bit too far? Whatever the case, all of this has lead me into finally narrowing down a major at school and having a direction to strive for. There is a chance I may not do any of this – I might change my career goals tomorrow and fall in love with something else entirely, and be embarrassed that I stayed up till 4 in the morning the night before a midterm to write this.

I doubt it. All signs are pointing towards it, and who am I to ignore the signs?

---

So yeah, a bit sappy, but whatever, it was late. I need another hobby.

So I've decided that I'm obviously missing something here. All the weekends I've stayed here at school and not had plans before the weekend started have been COMPLETELY USELESS AND BORING.

Everybody else seems to be having a good time, though, so I'm totally missing something.

I think it's this dorm. People are afraid of it.

Dude, life is so boring during the winter. Everybody's all depressed and low key. And thanks to living in a single (WHICH ROCKS OMGWTFBBQ), I discovered today that I go the whole day without saying a word until either a) I am forced to talk during English class, or more likely, b) I say "thanks, have a good day" to the guy that makes my sammich... Human interaction, nnnnnoooooooooo!!!

So anyway, I have to decide if I want to take Physics 121 or 114. 114 is easier and doesn't have a lab, and fills the requirements for biology. 121 would fill more requirements if I decide to change my mind about biology. If I take 121, though, I'm going to have 3 labs Spring quarter, and that would pretty much suck. Dad's all "Oh you can do it for a quarter, it wouldn't kill you." Yeah, easy to say when you don't have to do it!!

Well I managed to get in 3.5 hours of hardcore studying before I got bored of it. That's pretty frickin' fantastic.

TOO MUCH SCHOOL! Holy cow, it like, never ends.

Got up at 9, went to class, came back, finished my essay, went to class, came back, ate, finished my Chem post-lab and did part of the pre-lab, went to chem lab for 3 hours (chem lab blows - they give us one set of data tables to put into our lab notebook, then give us a different set of data tables to fill out once we get to lab, and then they grade us down when our lab notebook is a total mess because we actually came to lab with our data tables set up and ready following the template of what's in the actual lab manual. Next week I'm coming without any tables filled out and doing it there. Sooooooo frustrating.), and now I'm eating again, and then I'm off to the library to study till like midnight for my bio test tomorrow.

!!!! Stupid college. This quarter needs to end. Although next quarter will probably be just as bad.

Although, I'm not sure if I'd enjoy going back to Day Camp quite yet. Each summer it's taken me longer and longer to feel the urge to go back and corral small children all day again. First summer it was immediate, second summer it was around now, and this past summer burned me out on the whole camp thing... probably gonna be till around May before I feel like doing it again :P

And does hanging out with my sister and her hubby constitute as a social life? Cause that's pretty much all I got going these days =) At least with camp I have more desire to go be social - this place just sucks it out of me! SUCKS IT! SUCK!!!

K bye!

So I just locked myself out of my room (again). And instead of using this golden opportunity to meet the supposedly attractive (I'm going by Justin's 2 second glance) girl next door and ask to use her phone, I run all over the place looking for my RA's room. Of course, I didn't think to go next door till after I had started my RA search, but, like, double you tee eff mate?

The door had to be forcibly shut, however, when I locked myself out. As in, I had to pull really hard to make sure it closed. Of course, I didn't stop to think during this time "where the crap are my keys?", but instead thought "PULL HARDER MUST SHUT DOOR!". Anyway, I think somebody was trying to tell me to either a) not lock my keys out or b) was trying to show me that locking myself out wasn't just an accident and I should have gone and met said supposedly attractive girl. Or, c) I am procrastinating more because I have to start my essay.

I'll vote for c).

So I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon (a bit late...) and start this livejournal crap. Not that anybody will read it, but hey, life's all about pretending everybody's watching *you*!!! Also my life at college is horribly boring compared to the aventures I endure over the summer, but hey, I'm not here to entertain everybody else.... or am I???

So yesterday people were RIGHT outside my door playing some sort of ball game. I wasn't sure on the details, because I just walked by to go to the shower and smiled like an idiot (little did they know my true motivations), but they were loud for a good 2 hours and I wanted to murder them. This is Hansee Hall - there is no talking. I had glorious daydreaming episodes of either a) running out there and murderng them all or b) walking out and giving some well rehearsed speech that both embarassed them, shamed them, and made them rethink their goals in life. Neither came true (I don't think option 'a' would go over well with pretty much anybody, especially the ball-players. But you never know.)

Uhhhh... oh, there was a guy at the Bookstore who sold me my printer paper, and he was EXTREMELY friendly. I was terrified. He was almost worse than the burrito guy last year that winked at me like 5 times as he was making my delicious mexican meal. Yesterday a toothless woman down at Ian's winked at me as she sold me my frozen burrito. Maybe I should stop ordering burritos.

So today I have to do several things, first being procrastinate more. Second, chemistry, third, BS my way through yet another essay, and fourth, study biology so I can make up for sucking on the last one (that was bad). I should totally be an English major - I spent like 2-3 hours total on our first "major essay" and her notes at the end were pretty much saying I'm a badass. We were supposed to write it on a movie, and I didn't even watch the movie again. Granted I've seen it before, but it's been awhile. The most recent essay? 45 minutes. Her notes? "Good, Garet - this is a well thought out paper [blah blah blah add this and this and it's perfect]." ... HA HA HA. Oh man. Highschool flashbacks. Anyway, I'm going to continue procrastinating, go down to the IMA where it feels like I'm being productive when in fact I'm procrastinating more, and then do stuff. K bye.