Tuesday, February 17, 2009

I'm growing old...and I wanna go home

I've had a pretty horrible week. My boyfriend was sick and as soon as he was better I was sick. It started on Thursday, it's now Thursday again, and I still feel like crap. I've missed two days of work. This month's paycheque is not going to be stellar.

Just before creating the den of sick, my boyfriend and I had one of our little talks in which we discuss breaking up for the millionth time. I guess this time it was a little different. At least it seemed more final somehow, but we haven't talked about the specifics. He brought it up the other day when I was already wanting to jump off a bridge because I already I felt like crap. He didn't like it too much when I just changed the subject, but there's only so much misery I can stand at one time, you know?

I have a really special kind of self-loathing going on these days. It's even preventing me from working on my novel. I can't stand the thought of my main character right now; she disgusts me because she comes from me.

All that keeps running through my head is it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter...cause a black-eyed dog he called at my door.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Will Stephen King Publicly Announce That I Can't Write After I Publish a Novel That Sells Millions?

Wow. My last post could be a book. A really crappy book. I think this will be a short post. It's quarter to ten and I am wiped. I hate getting up at 5:45 AM. It's just wrong.

Current Events: Last night was our staff 'Christmas party', in February. We went to dinner theatre, and it was mildly entertaining. I can't believe it was four hours long.

Ranting: I don't know if I mentioned this, but I'm a big Twilight nerd. And today I read something on the Internet that pissed me off. And not really because I'm such a huge fan of the series, but because of the principal of it. Stephen King is apparently going around like a big shot saying that Stephanie Meyer sucks. I am so tired of people saying that Twilight is garbage because it doesn't feature teens fornicating. But even if he criticized the premise of the book, that would fine; annoying, but fine. But to basically say that a fellow writer can't write worth a shit, seems petty to me. Who defines what it means to be a good writer? Isn't a writer someone who tells stories, to entertain the readers? Well, I would say that Stephanie Meyer's readers are entertained, to say the least. And let's face it, Stephen King's work - not exactly literary prose.

Over and out.