Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Which Shin-raite are you?
On Friday, December 28, 2001 at 10:23 a.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
Let's hear it for random useless tests! Yeah!
So I came back from a week away from my apartment (or close to a week. No it was really more like four days. But it felt like a week. I had planned on it being a week. Oh well). So since last Thursday, I had not checked my email account. At all. Since there's a total of three (count'em 3) people at my office today, I've been doing nothing but signing for deliveries, and catching up on my internet stuff. This is what greated mine eyes when I opened my tsaiko1 account.
Inbox:121 (101 new)
Twenty minutes later and through the blocking of three new addresses (send me twenty messages of SPAM will you?) my inbox has been reduced to the the two emails actually meant for me and not just SPAM. That's right. A whole two messages. I was NOT amused.
I have finally caught up with all the on-line comics I read, and am still slowly working my way through the on-line blogs, LJ, pitas pages, etc. Many people have had many good Christmas stories. I'm late on wishing people Merry christmas so, Happy New Year! I got lots of clothes (which I needed), all four of the Harry Potter books (THANK YOU CNEKO, gift certificates which were used to buy books and will be used to buy (gasp) more clothes, and money so I can get myself a bike. Other gifts pending (or forgoteen in my extreme boredom at work).
Now I shall instill on you my own personal pet peeve about Christmas decorations. Here's the rules people: Christmas deocartion should not be put up BEFORE Thanksgiving Day. Thanksgiving weekend (you know, when everyone runs around the mall like chickens with their heads cut off?) is considered the official start of the Christmas season. Therefore, I should not see any hint of red or green or Santa at Halloween. It's tacky and pathetic.
As for taking them down, Chritsmas deocartions should be taken down on (preferable) or around January 6th. Why that day? Because that's when Old Christmas is. In other words, the day Christmas was celebrated on before 1582. Go to Christmas Traditions and scroll down until they start talking about the Julian and Gregorian calendars to find out why. Very good explanation. So don't leave your Chritsmas light up until Valentine's Day people! Take them down! And for everyone's sake, don't do what my family does and wait until May to get our Christmas tree down.
That is all.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: One Ring to Rule the Dome
On Thursday, December 20, 2001 at 09:09 a.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
I don't know what to write about.
I opened this browser window, loaded up pitas page, and logged in fully intent on talking about why I hadn't updated in a while. Talk about my life. My annoyance. My problems. Fully intent on venting to you, my unsuspecting readers. Only now, that I sit here with a blank screen in front of me, I have nothing to say. Which doesn't mean I won't fill it up with words. I'm nothing if not talkative, but everything that I was going to talk about seems to have drained out of me. Yet somehow it's not a very empty feeling because a large crowd of thoughts seems to have taken up residence in its place.
I get like this when I'm writing sometimes. When the story is too much, the words too close together, the characters too demanding. When the noice in my head is too deafening to makes sense. It's like a ball of noise, where you can not find the end anywhere, so you can't get the events to neatly lay down in a single line. A single string of words. My thoughts are like that now, with too many worries and stresses and annoyances and pressures within my mind. I wonder if this is how a caged bird feels? Frantically beating its wings against unyeilding bars.
There's another time when I stare upon the page and it stares balefully back at me. When I reach for words and find only silence. When I can't write because there's nothing to write. And you can struggle, and push and search, but in the end you are forced to simply put down the pen and paper and try later. My mind is sometimes like that as well. Calm, and smooth, and deep, but with nothing really breaking the surface. A dark pool reflecting back only myself on a polished surface. I like the stillness, and rarely try to disturb it. But even should I have the inclination to think, I know nothing would come.
Luckily, though my mind is in turmoil, my words seem to be flowing find. Which is good in a way. Because in the past week I've written about 15-20 pages, mostly on two stories. Which is good. Since I got rejection letters from two jobs I applied for, I'm hoping to use my writing skills to get some extra income. To bolster myself self-esteem some, and to keep myself motivated to keep searching for a job I want to do.
I want to be published. I want to be known. I want to be talked about, to be discussed, to have my writing taken seriously. I'm tired of being thought of as a slightly obscure fanfic writer. I want some recognition. And above all else, I want to challenge the way people think about the world. Set in your ways of thinking? Don't read my books.
My life might be in turmoil, but there's nothing wrong with my determination.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Green Cube: A japanese Harry Potter site
On Friday, December 14, 2001 at 01:27 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
Several entries ago I wrote a couple of fragments that featured me, myself, and I as a mage. In my stories I often picture myself as a mage or a dragon, trying to get a little more depth for the worlds and generally just watching. It's kinda how I interact with my characters. I didn't think anything of it until I was on the #acidreflux channel of IRC and they were discussing if the channel was an RPG, who everyone would be. Kalil mentioned that I often portrayed myself as a mage and he wasn't going to argue. No one else argued either.
This make me unbelievably happy. It's not often I get proof that the way I think might be right. So i present another little mage clip. I'm Star. For somereason, when i show up in my own stories, I always call myself Star. I don't know why. Better than my real name I guess. So here's another fragment.
The sound of the flute was low and sweet in the hot air. It sang of raindrops and wind. Or clouds and storms. Trills and runs, and low somber notes filled the song it wove. But not clouds gathered. No storm came. In the end, the flute was producing nothing more than song, and both the mage and the crew knew it.
The StormHawk had hit the dead zone a nearly two weeks ago. That place in the ocean where both winds and currents die, leaving boats to wallow in a sea of calm. Water and food were running low, and tempers were running high. Yet still the sky was a dome of endless blue and the sun beat down with baleful fury. The deck smelled of baked wood and dry rot, while the holds stank of unwashed bodies and spoiling cargo. Ever sound made by straining boards or creaking ropes sounded like a death knell to the crew. Finally, in desperation, the Captain had called upon one of the passengers for help.
"Me don't like it. Me thinks it shouldn't be done. None of the other crew likes that sound. Witchery does no good to a ship."
Tradition forbade the use of magic aboard ships. Out at sea a boat had no lifeline. A badly done spell, a miscast spell, or even a spell that was slightly stronger and weaker than what it should be could doom a ship. Ships were built without the benefit of magic. They were chalked without its benefit. Even bringing fortune charms aboard them was frowned upon.
"I don't like either, Haith. But the Captain wants us out of this god-forsaken place and I can't blame him for that. We have a mages aboard. It's about time they earn their keep."
There was another reason for the crew's dislike of the mage. When people are confined to close quarters far away from safety, superstition becomes a powerful force. Every thing becomes a portent. Every gesture takes on great meaning. And with the power of belief backing it, everything can become dangerous. So for the mage to be trying to work a spell was considered almost sacrilegious to the crew.
"Edwards, you be a great first mate. Man couldn't ask for anyone better. But the crew and me, we be getting antsy about the witchery there. Me be telling you this because you a good soul. Mark my words, no good will come of this. And the Captain should hear this as well," Haith replied. The older man was fixing nets, waving the strands back together by touch rather than by sight. It was a menial job, but it helped to keep his hands busy.
"I've already told him about my and the crews concerns. He thinks getting us going again is more important. Though I don't see how this, " Edwards paused to indicate the mage and his song, "is really helping all that much."
"I'll agree. Calling storms is tricky at best. Niccoli should have stopped days ago." The two men turned at the new voice. It was another passenger, another mage called Star. The Captain had first approached her and she had refused. Since then she had gained the respect of the crew. Where before they had actively shunned her, now they tolerated her presence.
"Me would think you'd be approving of this. Being a mage and all," Haith stated. Star simply shook her head, and smiled.
"Oh I approve of magic. I wouldn't be a mage otherwise. I just don't approve of this," Star said as she nodded towards her fellow mage. "I agree with you. No good will come of this." Then she walked towards the mage who sat on the prow, determined to stop this.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Pong... not just a game
On Thursday, December 13, 2001 at 08:54 a.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
So my previous entry was a small demonstration about how I write. Also, it was to impress you with my random fragments. Impressed? Don't answer that. But I was thinking about how I write and how other people write and about some advice I can give to people writing... and yes, this is going to be about writing as will the next post I have a feeling. Not interested? Then move along to White Cat's pitas page and read about her life. She stressed out about finals just like everyone else. So here's my insight into writing.
First of all, as stated yesterday, the best way for me to write is in scenes. Usually in quick, connections with the major scenes being more filled out. As soon as another scene intrudes, I skip to it. This is one of the reasons I *heart* computers. Because I can go in, write, and then edit to my heart's content without having to worry about loose sheets of paper. But I didn't get a computer until mid highschool. So unlike some people I can actually use pencil and paper. But it usually involves me in the end with several sheets of notebook paper trying to put stuff in the right order before typing it up.
After the scenes comes the filling in. This goes a little bit slower because I have to remember what I need happen to get to the next scene then make it happen. This is where I am with Ani and why it's going to slow (in addition to my computer problems, of course). I have the next major action scene written out (and have had it and the next three major scenes done for awhile) and just need to get things in the right place in order for it to happen.
Once this initial draft is done with all the scenes connecting, I do a revision. This is where I add details, fix awkward wording, and do what I call story weaving. Word choice. Mood. Sentence structure. This is the time that I love the most and takes the most out of me. This is when the story becomes real to me. St. Theresa is what my stories look like before I do this last step. Tower is what a story looks like after this step. Maybe it's just me, but I can tell the difference. Tower just has a much more finished feel than St. Theresa.
This quick and dirty writing of scens and then filling in the material later is the best way for me to write. I get more done in a shorter amount of time this way. I also am generally more pleased with the work. Sometimes I get something like Freedom where I've revised the thing three times and it still feels incomplete. But that's rare with this style. So having found this way of getting things done, you would think I would use this method all the time, right? Wrong. I still suffer from this grand delusion that story must be started at the beginning and written till the end. Straight. No jumping around. No filling in. Just from beginning to end writing, then some editing. Maybe.
I think a lot of new writer's are under this delusion. That they have to write beginning to end with out interuption. Which is not the case. In fact, I've found that most professional writers don't do this. Why people suffer from this grand delusion that this is how people write is beyond me. But I have it too. So allow me to disabuse you of this notion. Because how a person writes is as varied as the stories they write.
How do I know this? Because I read the forwords, the author's notes, the afterwords, anything that doesn't relate to the story that the author has added to it. I also have read a books written by authors giving tips on writing. In my quest to become a better writer, I learn from these things. How do writers get inspiration? How do they write? When do they write? How dothey know when a story is long enough? When a story is done? This information and more can be found by reading these things.
For instance, I know Piers Anthony tends to write from beginning to end in his stories. But he has these things in brackets (dang if I can remember what he calls them) which are these random thoughts that occur while he's writing. Instead of letting these things stophim writing, he just puts them down and continues. Sometimes ideas for other stories are hidden in them. He writes by hand on a clipbaord, doing editing when he puts it on computer. He judges the length of his stories by words, not pages. All this from reading the stuff at the end of his novels.
Stephen King writes in bursts of inspiration, sometimes triggered by the most ordinary of things. Generally he writes for long periods of time without distractions. Often when he first creates a story, it's him in the story. Then the character slowly becomes someone else. But intially it's him, acting and reacting like he would in the situation. Not how he wishes he would act, but how he actually would act. Which is why his characters seem so real. Because no matter how strange the situation, they seem based in reality.
Some people write the end and work slowly backwards to the beginning. Some people do what I do and write scenes then fill (that's how I first found out I could do stuff like that). Some people start with a place. Some people start with a character. Some people start with a name. It's different for each person. There is no set rules. No "right way" to write. It takes courage. It takes patience. And above all else, it takes practice. Trying new things. Forcing yourself to write in different way. Finding out what works for you. Finding out what doesn't.
In the end, you have to teach yourself how to write. Because no one else can.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Oekaki BBS
On Wednesday, December 12, 2001 at 09:33 a.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
I was planning on doing my Christmas stories this week, but have decided that they will get done closer (or possibly on) Christmas. Instead, I'll post this link to a nifty doodling board. Yes, even I added something to it though there are artists who are much better than I up there. Comments appreciated. Some yaoi pictures (you have been warned).
Also I will post the fragments to the following story I found while rumaging around on my computer at work. I only vaguely remember starting it, though the idea behind it is rather old (six years or so, from before college). The idea: what if there was a world where reality was unsettled? Where the locations of cities, rivers, buildings within towns, even rooms in houses changed daily? What if one morning you woke up in a blizzard, and the next you woke up in the tropics? How would you live? How would you survive? And what if, amid all this choas, there were a few great people who could make things stay put, make reality take form and become solid?
They are the few. The eternal. Those chosen to create order from a world of chaos. The wanderers. The worshiped, and admired. They are the Mapmakers.
I'm posting it here because it illustrates just how my normal writing mode it. I tend to write in scenes, sometimes just a few paragraphs long (as in this case) sometimes a few pages long (as in the case of Ani. I work on a scene until it just stops and then I'm left with the job of connecting the scenes in a logical manner. Trying to get all that I need to happen to actually happen. There's no chronological order to the scenes I write. I don't write the first one first, then the next. I jump around. So before I actually connect the pieces together, or set the story up, you get something like this:
"Tis a fine story you weave minstrel," a voice stated from across the common room. All eyes shifted from the minstrel to a table in the back, one hidden in shadows. There sat traveler, dressed in fine but worn clothes. Impoverished gentry. "But it is nothing more than that. A pretty tale told to keep the winter cold at bay, and make sense of the chaos of our world."
"There is no fault in entertaining those who wish to hear my words," Treval replied. The strummed notes from his mandolin spoke of longing dreams and mild rebuke while the rough feel of strings on calluses brought comfort to the minstrel.
The stranger retorted with a short, harsh laugh.
"You bring fault with your words minstrel. You give false hope to those who need to see reality." Treval felt his fingers falter, the mood shattered into a thousand glittering fragments. Like the sound of voices filled with remorse and sadness where once hope reigned. The collared servant reverted back to a slave. The servers reverted back to fair prey. Treval reverted back to a tired, hungry, scraggily minstrel.
And nothing more.
"Why did you have to do that?"
The traveler paused in her movements but did not turn her head to look as Treval stalked through the stables. He had shut the stable door quickly against the bitter cold. Still a draft sent icy fingers around his ankles and through the thin cloth of his pants. The inside of the stables was warm and musty, filled with scent of horse and grain, dirt and leather. Lanterns hung at regular intervals providing indifferent lighting.
"Don't act stupid. You know what you did. I had food, a bed, maybe even a noble to keep me for awhile, and you stripped it away with you words." Treval stated. His words were short and angry, the rolling dialect he usually feigned clipped with emotion. "You maybe poor, but your gender and status guarantee you a room and respect. Some of us aren't lucky enough to have been born female or to family of rank. Some of us have to do whatever it takes to live."
Treval felt his whole body shaking with anger. The words that flowed from his mouth were hot and bitter. They tasted better then finest feast he had ever had set before him. "Some of us have to fight for life. Some of us will never get anything that we don't earn handed to us. We will never get a break. We were born poor and will die in the gutter. Is your life so meaningless that you must find your entertainment by stripping others of their livelihood?"
"Come here minstrel." Treval looked up from his place beside the fire, from the first decent meal he had had in days with great reluctance. The lady watched him with expectant eyes from her place upon the bed. Deep inside where no one could hear, the minstrel sighed. He knew that the promise of a free meal and a warm bed had been too good to be true.
With a sense inevitability, Treval slowly stood up and walked towards the bed. The thin blanket that had been around his shoulders fell to the floor. The minstrel had never understood why nobles had found him attractive. He was thin, tall, and a bit of a klutz. But in the past he had been grateful that whatever they saw provided him food and shelter when others could get none.
Now he just wished he was like all the other starving peasants in the world.
"Pick up the blanket and sit down here. I swear that shirt is so thin I could count your ribs through it." Treval quickly snatched the thin cloth back. Despite the thick thatching and roaring fireplace, the loose boards and thick bubbly glass of the inn let in too much cold for the minstrel's taste. Then he gingerly sat on the farthest edge of the sagging bed.
"Do you know what this is?" The noble asked as she held something out for Treval to inspect.
The lines represent the breaks between scenes where I'll fill in stuff later. Sometimes, when I'm doing it by hand, you'll find such notes as "Describe building here" or "Add more stuff" or "Add the helicopter scene" or even "Fix later." ^_^
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Nethersphere.com
On Thursday, December 6, 2001 at 01:09 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
Wheeeee! I feel hyper today. No, I don't know why. I just do. Wheeee!
Anyways, I read somehwere around 40 blogs a day. this does include livejournals. there are always lots of rants and social blogging going on. And complaints. Lots and lots of complaints. About life. About the internet. About life on the internet. And above all else, abount fanfiction. You see, I read alot of the blogs by people who's fanfiction I read/have read. For me, part of the writing process is not only reading other people's stuff to see what they do but also finding out where these other writer's are coming from.
This is also a great way to collect view points and character ideas I've found (just as long as the people can't figure out that they are the people being represented in your stories. Because if they figured out that would be bad and would get me trouble. So I never do that, you know. Use real life people in my stories when I'm too lazy to make up my own characters. Never. Uh-uh. And I'm still in parentheses aren't I? Wheeeee!).
So I'm reading the blogs and people start complaining about stuff that fanfic writers do. They don't take into account all the series. Male pregnancy fics. Housing muses in your head. Mary Sue's. Cross-overs. Putting together characters just because they look pretty. Ignoring female characters (or male characters) in order to get two guys (or girls) together. You get the drift. And I'm reading this stuff and wondering "Are they talking to me? Am I one of those people they always complain about?"
And then I realized, "Hey, it doesn't matter because none of these people read my pitas page anyway!" Wheee!
And how do I know this you may ask? Even if you don't ask, I'll tell you anway! Because only one lone person has linked me from their blog/LJ/pitas page. And I can't find their page again. So I am a nobody, a zero, a non-person as far as the internet goes. And you know what? At times like this, I LIKE IT. Because it means if I do any of those things others complain no one cares. I am free! I can do what I want and I won't have to worry about letting anyone down! Or about people writing me telling me how much my stuf has gone down! Freedom! SWEET FREEDOM YOU TASTE LIKE THE LEMON CAKE THAT'S BEEN HAUNTING MY DREAMS FOR TWO WEEKS!
Did I mention I was on a diet? No sweets, lots of veggies, lots of water. I want lemon cake.
So I bring to you my own list of complaints. We're going for 10, but it may be longer or shorter depending on my mood (and how often my boss walks behind me while I'm typing this). So here it goes...
LIST OF THINGS NOBODY COMPLAINS ABOUT THAT REALLY TICKS ME OFF
- People who complain about Mary Sue's. Okay, rationalize this all you want. Claim that you never wrote it down, that it was only in your head, that you subjected it to no one, or only your close friends. You're nothing like those people on the internet who write that kind of stuff. The truth is, you did it too. Try to deny it, and I know you're lying. Everyone wants to be the character in a show, a book, a movie at one point. So you didn't write it down. So you didn't waste badnwidth with your delusions. You did it too. Some people just have the guts to do it in front of everyone.
- People who think that because they write fiction they can automatically write poetry. You can't. Writing poetry and writing fiction uses two different skill sets. Kinda like sculpture and painting. Those who can do both, great. Those who can't, shouldn't. And while were at it, let's include...
- People who never learned how to critique their own stuff. YOU SHOULD NEVER POST A FIRST DRAFT OF ANYTHING! You should learn to read what is actually on the page instead of what you want to be there. You need to learn read your stuff like you have never seen the words before instead of like you have lived there your whole life. It's a skill. It must be learned. It must be practied. Do not use it for evil. Use it only for good. But I will be understanding if not everyone can do this. Because I, of course, am better than all those other people who write these kinda lists. Yep. Sure am.
- People who take down their old stuff because it's "Not as good as there new stuff" or "Becuase they've lost interest in the series." So? That doesn't mean everyone has lost interest in your stuff or the series. You have no idea how many times I have gone on a mad hunt for fics that people have taken down for these two reasons. Are you ashamed for having liked it? Are you ashamed of your work? Well too bad! You put time and effort into writing that. Be proud. Besides, I wanna read it! And that's all that matters to me.
- People who complain about male pregnancy fics. Before you complain about them realize that male pregnancy has its roots in norse mythology. What? Has Tsaiko lost her mind? Well, yes, but the male pregnancy thing in norse mythology is true. Loki gave birth to the horse Sleipnir by the stallion Svailfare. So basically, Loki got turned female long enough to give birth then went back to being male. I'm sure I've hear of this happening before? I know! It was in a GW fanfic. True, Duo wasn't turned into a horse for it to happen, but you get the idea. So Male pregnancy fics have a long and glorious history and have actually been around longer than fanfiction (which can trace its roots back to the fifties). So there.
- People who think that because all there words are spelled correctly they are better writers. I am a product of the California reading system from the early 80's. What does this mean? This mean I was never tought phonetics and didin't learn to spell words such as "minute" until 4th greade. My spelling skills suck. even when running it through a spell checker, and two proof readers, mistakes get through. This does not mean I can't write. I am a good writer and know it. But jsut because you know how to correctly spell "ambiguous" (looked up to make sure it was right) does not mean you can write. I have read stuff with fairly bad spelling that was great and stuff with perfect spelling and grammer not worth the screen it was printed on. Plot also counts, you know.
- People who don't do random pairings for the fun of it. What's the point of writing if you dan't have fun? Yes, it's stupid. Yes, it's pathetic. Yes, no one will read it but you. That's not the point. The point is, writing fanfiction is fun and is a way to break the rules and go all out. It's a practice, a breeding ground. Why not write about Nuriko and Yolei? Why not write about Heero and Kurama? Break boundaries! Be innovative! Who knows? You may discover something about yourself you never though of. You may find out you can do stuff like this beleivably, and with grace and style. If you never try to do the impossible, you'll never know what you can do.
- People who's pages scratch at the back of my eyeballs. Use contrasting colors. Oh wait, others have complained about that. Ummm....
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Technomancy
On Monday, December 3, 2001 at 10:40 a.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
So a bunch of the people over at Technomancy were talking about doing the snow dance. For those of you who don't know (or are too lazy to click the link above) the snow dance is kinda like the rain dance on longer and more involved. It includes not only trying to get it to snow, but what happens when said white stuff falls. So i would like to present the North Carolina version of the snow dance, comiled by me after observing this strange behavior for several years in North Carolina.
First off the beginning of winter for NC varies greatly from year to year. There are some people who will tell you that it starts on the same day every year. This is a load o' crap. In NC winter officially starts sometime between Dec. 1st and Christmas and runs to early March. See this is about the time of the year when it gets cold. As in, at nights it gets below freezing cold. This does not mean that at any given time during the winter period we can't have weeks where you can wear shorts comfortably outside. Because NC weather loves to do that kinda thing. It just means it's less likely to happen during this time refered to as "winter."
The optimal snow falling time for NC is January through late Febuary. Sometimes you get snow as early as Thanksgiving. Sometimes you get it as late as April 17. Most of the time it falls in that two month period. The greatest amount of snow to fall is about 20 inches inone storm. More commonly we get 2-3 inches total for a season. Ice is considered to be part of that total since it gets kids out of school and me out of work (and that's what really matter here).
The snow dance starts with the weathermen. I'd say it starts with all the people who hope something will happen to get them out of work, but that occurs all the time. The weathermen get on camera and put up their charts and graphs and do their little weather voodoo magic which involves seeing which way the feathers of a chicken are laying (down) and what color the fuzzy caterpillars are (dark). Then they mention the magic word. "Snow."
Many people have written humorous essays about how Southerners loose all common sense when you mention the word "snow." I would like to say, after living here for over a decade, that these people don't know the half of it.
First of there is the (in)famous rush to the grocery store/Wal-mart. At the grocery store you are required (I'm pretty sure by law) to but the following items: milk, bread, peanut butter or luncheon meat. Beer or some other form of alcohol (ie moonshine) is also acceptable. Then, if the weather man predicts more than 1 inch, you will head over to Wal-mart or Home Deopt or Lowe's and buy candles, hurricane laterns, and a space heater. In case the power goes out.
Now in all my years of living in NC, very rarely does the power go out during the winter. Every couple of years you'll get enough ice on the trees or lines that power will go out. Usually it's restored within a day, at worst within two to three days. Why these people don't go buy sensible things like blankets is beyond me. And space heaters? Is it just my imagination or do they need electricity to run? Anyways...
You are required to make this run everytime the word snow is mentioned. Even if these events occur within the same week. Personally, I think that everytime the power doesn't go out, these people have a massive candle burn off. "Dangit Marlene, we bought these fifty dollars worth of candles and by God, we're going to use them." Don't ask me where all the space heaters go within this seven day period. I wasn't born in NC so I'm not privy to this information.
Mention the word snow and every redneck or busniess man with an SUV or truck instantly pictures themselves confidently traveling over snow packed roads while laughing at all those pitiful people with normal non-gas guzzling safe cars sliding in the ditch freezingly waiting for help. Which of course, being the manly men that they are, they will provide with a sturdy chain and four wheel drive. Tow thos epoor suckers out of the ditch they will, mhhhm. Yess. Go towards the dark side they will. Then they will drive off leaving the little car to go twenty feet down the road and slide in the ditch waiting for the next testosterone laden man to kindly help them out.
This never happens.
For starters, all these people with trucks and SUV's (because they need to ford all those rivers and stuff on the way to work in downtown Raleigh) think that driving in snow is like driving in wet sand. In other words, they don't think they need any actual skill to handle it. After all, they've got a big manly truck. (Not that I'm implying that being arrogant and getting stuck in the ditch when it snows has anything to do with being male. But I will say that in the decade I've lived here I have never, never seen a woman driving a truck stuck in a ditch. Thank you). So of course, the ditches are lined with trucks and SUV's come snow fall. Just once, I want to see some woman driving a Geo Metro offer to haul one of these trucks out of the dicth. It will be a Kodak moment for me.
Schools are also kind of funny about the whole snow thing. If one flake falls, most schools in eastern NC will shut down. With the exception of Wilson County. This is the county I had the misfortune of going to. These wonderful poeple will make you come to school and wait there until they serve lunch (because this will then count as a full school day and won't have to be made up). Nevermind if there is a bliazzrd going on outside. Nevermind that by the time they send us home the buses are sliding off the road it's so slick. But hey, at least we don't have to make that school day up.
They even once threatened to keep us there for the night because the weather had gotten so bad. You know what we did? We laughed. Trying to keep over 1,000 kids locked up in a place where they don't want to be? HA! We would have been sneaking out windows. Juniors and Seniors would have been offering rides for anyone who wanted them. And if they decided they wouldn't let the Junior and Seniors go? there's always a window. Or threat of legal action. "You want to keep me here? Fine. I'll just go call the police and have you arrested for holding me against my will. BTW, did I mention I'm over 18 and you can't leaglly hold me here?"
The hardest part of the snow dance is trying to figure out exactly how much snow will fall before hand. what you have to do is flip through all the local weather stations. If all of the weathermen predict five inches of snow, and one guy predicts 1 inch, go with the one guy. I don't know why this works, but it does. Always trust the one guy going out on a limb.
So there is the snow dance in its entirity for NC. If you'll excuse me, I'm off to look outside. Something white just fell to the ground. It's probably a feather, but I'm going to run to the grocery store. Just in case.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Lord of the Rings Character Test
On Tuesday, November 27, 2001 at 12:35 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
You know what my biggest problem as a fanfic writer is? It's not that I can't write. Because I can. I've won nifty awards with my stories and people bug me (alot) about writing more. No, my biggest problem is that I am so incredibly slow. I am. My one completed multi-part fic took me four years to finish. Not because One of Those Days was particularly hard. or difficult to write. No. It's because I am slow as Hell about getting something done from idea to paper to internet.
It also doesn't help that at any given time, I'm working 25 or more stories. I work on something, put it up until inspiration strikes, then drag it back out and work on it some more. The problem is if I can't get to the file or put my hands on the hand written copy of a story when that happens, I loose interest. Then it gets put back on the shelf that is my brain until inspiration comes again.
Another problem I run into is I get the inspiration for a story, write part of it down, and then can't remember where I was going with it. Usually I can jog my memory or come up with an alternate ending. Otherwise, poof! there goes that story. If I'm lucky I can reuse the writing in another fic. If not, oh well.
My worst habit is writing stuff on whatever is handy. Envelopes, hoework, notes, calenders, napkins, etc. This makes it really hard to track down sometimes. And once I write something, I cannot rewrite it. So if it gets thrown away or eaten by the computer, that's the end. I can't work on it anymore and I can't rewrite it. My mind just doesn't work that way. I write the story to get it out of my head. Once out there is no return.
I found out in college I write the most when I'm sharing the room with someone I don't really know. If I'm by myself, I keep making excuses. Or thinking up other ways to entertain myself. I just can't seem to get motivated.
Tsaiko: Ooh look, I can play Vagrant Story again. It's doing research. Yeah, that's right.
When I'm around people I like, I want to hang out with them. And despite repeated attemps otherwise, I can't write when they are doing things like watching TV, playing games, reading, breathing, and other little unimportant things. I keep getiing interested in what they're doing. I'm a nosy little bugger, yes I am.
But when it's just me and someone I can't talk to... then I write. Most of Ani was written during my freshman year when the situation was like that. At times like that writing becomes my only outlet. The only time I can let my imagination out around people I don't trust. The only time I can be still and vunerable. Where I can cry and grieve and laugh and feel joy and not have to worry about what others are thinking or whether it will be used against me. It's the only time I can feel comfortable around this person I don't know but am forced to live with.
The only time I can be the Unicorn.
As much as I'm glad to have friends and a life and a feeling of belonging in my own apartment, sometimes I miss that desperate need to write. It grips me every once in awhile but it seems to take second place to the demands of my life now.I was this way back in highschool a lot. I made it through still able to write for hours at a time. I figure I can do the same when my life becomes a little less demanding.
So if there's a story you are desperate to have me finish, please be patient. I writing as fast as I can. Which is to say, not fast at all.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: #AR Blackmail file
On Saturday, November 24, 2001 at 08:13 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
I love the #AR channel on IRC. They are great people. Come in sometime. If you stay around long enough you're bound to slip up and wind up in the blackmail file.
So why haven't posted in awhile? I was hoping to have the new layout done before I posted again. Oh well. As you can see that didn't happen and is not likely to happen anytime soon. I have the layout and graphics done. Now just to link everything. it seems I read 31 different weblogs, pitas pages, and LJ's a day. Good lord. I don't even want to contemplate the number of friend's webpages I'm going to link to. My brain will explode.
In other news, I may have a job lined up. A geology job. I'm getting called in for a secon interview. That's always good. Now if I can just beat this cold I'm coming down with. My head is achy, as is my body. And I think I'm running a fever. I can't be sure, but I think i am.
I went home for Thanksgiving. I am thankful i only had to spend two days with my family. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time with my family. But I can only take so much of them. My sister listens to two types of music: Christian Rock and Country. Neither of them makes my top twenty list. Besides that, my sister is very devout Christian (which I am not) and likes to make comments about health and diet whenever we eat togather. "Did you know you shoudl eat one vegetarian meal a day> It's healtier." or "You really need to eat steamed fish instead of beef." or "You don't need to put salt on your food. It's salty enough as it is." or "Water is better for you." thank you, but if I want to eat healthier I will do it. I do not need a portable reminder system around to say such things everytime I sit down to enjoy a meal.
And my mother decided that she wanted to go shopping the day after Thanksgiving. Oh joy. I hate shopping and as it gets closer and closer to Christmas my mom get smore and more stressed. We've had screaming fights in the middle of the mall before. Luckily that didn't happen. My tire got a big rip in it (probably because I forgot to put air in it -_-;) and I had to get new tires. Which meant I could avoid my mom for an hour or so and window shop. Then I found a whole bunch of clothes I liked. This made my mom very happy and so I'm getting a whole bunch of clothes for Christmas.
In other news, while at home I found an old notebook. Guess what was in the notebook? The first part to a GW story I thought I had lost! Once I wirte stuff, I can't ever rewrite it. I thought I had lost it after I wrote the second part and couldn't ever find the first. Now that I have the two parts I can write the third part and have a complete story. Happy. Too bad I left the notebook at my house. Sad.
I wrote more on the Fox and the Tiger. The Fox and the Tiger is an original yaoi story I've been working on for a little over a year. I put it up, work on it, then put it up again. It's nearing compelteion. It stars two of the most messed up little characters I have. Hayashi: the white tiger half who seeks revenge for his brother's murder. Kojiro: The kitsune assassin who takes care of his targets in a most unusual fashion. I can't wait to get it done.
Off to work on more fanfics. Bye!