Second Deadly Sin

I'm writing a little story right now. I should have realized this earlier and rectified the situation, but I think it's too late now. The story is in second person.
I think I like having it in second person. Now, we all know that second person is weird and bad and icky, but there's something about it in this context that just works so well. I'm sort of playing around with the chronology too, so maybe playing around with time and playing around with narration work together. Maybe.
Anyways, the story is called (as of right now) A Million Reasons Why. It has (as of right now) three parts. It will be published on the blog soon-ish, which means sometime before NaNoWriMo.
In other news, I've determined my wordcount goal for NaNoWriYe. It feels like a huge and terrifying number right now, but I've decided on a specific wordcount goal for every month, depending on what I'm doing. For instance, I do not plan on writing anything in December, because December is the month of sleep. On the other hand, July, August, and November are looking like pretty productive months. If you can't tell, I'm very excited by this prospect.
I have the excel spreadsheet to prove it.

In which I fail

I went to the movies today. I was supposed to be meeting some friends there, but I arrived late, and I looked for them, but I couldn't find them. So I watched the movie alone and wallowed in my loneliness.
God, I am so whiny.

I like this idea

I had this idea last night, and I'm not sure if it would work or not. I'm considering having my main character be in a relationship. Not a happily ever after type thing, but to contribute to the "I've messed up my whole entire life" scene. I like this scene quite a bit, it's the only one I've thought out entirely, and it inspired the whole thing.
I hate happy endings.

Figuring.

I wrote this out of no where a couple weeks ago. I think it kind of pulls everything in my life together, but I'm not sure if I like having everything in my life pulled together like that.

I think I like books because I am an incredibly lonely person. When I was ten, I had no friends, so I read books. I was lonely and sad and angry, and no one at all knew what I was feeling.
Except for them. I could go to them anytime, and they accepted me and more importantly, they loved me back. That's why I write. Because Holden will always be lonelier than you, Harry will always be under more pressure than you, the Baudelaires will always be less fortunate than you, and Anne will always be more killed by Nazis than you. That is huge and comforting ot me, and I think it's huge and comforting to other people too.

I'm nearly to the end of Travels with Charley, and it's making me think about one thing. You already know what that thing is, probably.
I'm thinking about home. Not home as a place, but home as a set of ideas that you carry with you. I'm thinking of all these schools that aren't here. They aren't going to be here, and if I go to them, I probably won't be living at home. How doe we create a home for ourselves outside of the place we've known? Maybe this is striking me more because I've always lived here, but it does make me wonder. If I moved to some other city, how often would I see my parents? How often would I see my grandparents? How do you keep in touch with people when you never see them? When you're old, do you still have the same friends?
God, this idea of moving is almost as interesting as the idea of going to college. It would almost be worth it to move someplace else and not bother going to college at all, at least not right away.
We're going to forget that I ever suggested that last idea.
In other news, it's Christmas break. I'm allowing myself the weekend to slack off a bit, but after that I have to study quite a bit for APUSH and finish my extra assignment from physics and finish my self portrait for art and clean my room. There's a novel that needs a hellava lot of planning too, but I don't know when that's going to happen.

This is my life.

"It harbored many northerners whose hatred was directed not so much at slavery as at blacks and who gagged at the prospect of sharing the newly acquired western territories with African-Americans."
That's a passage from my APUSH book. I had to read it at least three times before it made any sense.
On the next page, "The overnight inpouring of tens of thousands of people into the future Golden State completely overwhelmed the one-horse government of California. A distressingly high proportion of the newcomers were lawless men, accompanied or followed by virtueless women." Does that irritate you like it irritates me? The biggest worries are men who break laws and women who don't have virtues? Does that mean that they dare to do things that men can do without anyone blinking an eye?
I do believe that it's time to bring out my angry eyes.

Quote of the Month

"Training is everything. The peach was once a bitter almond; cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education."
Mark Twain

A Gulag Sighting

Seen Here.
I had never thought that gulags were the Russian version of walking three miles, barefoot, uphill both ways to go to school, but there you have it.

Who let you go?

I can't believe you said that. I always knew that I was the fuckup and he was the saint, but did you have to say it to his face like that? You knew he was going to say it to me, did it really take a genius to figure out that I would ask you if you actually said it? It's no wonder that I'm trying to get away from you, when you do things like this.
I knew all along that I needed to do better, that it would matter one day. You should have realized. You should have realized all along that no one gives a damn about who I am, the just want someone with the right numbers.
I don't have the right numbers, but you don't have to go around using me as a poster child for why you other people have to be better than that. You could have at least asked me.
Just let me go. It's too late to change me, I'm already too set in my ways and self destructive.
Self destructive to the bitter end.

I hate this.

APUSH is killing me right now, and it really shouldn't be, but I really do focus too much on the big picture. Little pictures are important too, but not too little, those are like writing and don't involve hand movement. Scratch that. They involve hand movement, but drawing should involve movement at the shoulder.
French is getting harder. Harder. Hah. That really wasn't funny.
I'm making bread. I like bread a lot. That explains a lot of things, including, but not limited to, the size of my ass.
I'm in love with my new novel. It's pretty close to Dean, and Dean is the perfect guy. I will hate it more than anything else at some point in the next six months. Things like this make me wonder if I have a problem. I hate that I can't keep liking anything. I want to like a novel. I want to be dedicated to the stupid thing.
Or keep liking anyone, for that matter. The last time I had any kind of real relationship was the summer before freshman year. Tragic, that is. I saw both of the guys I was in a relationship with in middle school in less than a minute today.
We're not talking enough in French, but we're talking more than we did in French II. We're talking less than we did in French I. All we ever did in French I was talk. That's why I was good at it. I'm terrible at grammar.
Physics is possibly my easiest class right now. But it's not easy. It's really hard. That wasn't funny either. I think it's very strange that I'm thinking of science as being possibly my easiest class. I'm not a science person. If I had been blogging in eighth grade, I would link to some things right now. I can't memorize anything. I know three phone numbers. I know my address. In terms of numbers, that is it.
I kind of wonder if I should ditch the art school thing altogether and go to some college around here and get a degree in history and then realize that I have no employment opportunities. What do you do with a degree in history? Do you teach? I could never teach history. Ever. I have no patience
I should have gotten my last essay back before I have to write the next one. I hate that a lot.

Clearly, someone needs to get out more.
Are you doing anything in the evenings this week?

Balloooon.

I've been having one of those weeks where everything is a shade of grey. It's post-NaNo, post-break, pre-snow. Then...something awesome made my day.That rhymes.I am very sure that these are the best balloons in the world.I uploaded a third of the pictures from this to flickr, then flickr cut me off. When you use the timer, you end up with a lot of pictures. Funny, that is.The other hilarious thing today? My APUSH teacher has a tattoo of a polar bear on his neck. Because that is a badass tattoo. Yes, it was temporary, but I think it makes his chinbeard work so much better.
And because I like random bits of Euro, Machevelli reference of the day. Yeah, the fic is craptastic, but I laughed at it. Are you someone from Euro, Dea de Verum?