mrfl. rant, rant, rant, rant.
Dec. 7th, 2004 03:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7it is pouring rain when i wish it would snow.
it is cold and icky.
the people who were perfectly happy to give other people jobs for three months won't do so for dave. 'what, you'll want to quit to go back to school?' 'well, yes. see, it's like a summer job, only over the winter holidays instead.' 'oh, we can't do that.' 'but, but you do it all the time in the summer!' 'yes, well, that's different.'
I am afraid to leave the room because of the Unhappiness that is dave. I would bake him cookies, as per the helpful suggestions of several people thusfar (over the course of the rather rough past week), but 1) that wouldn't help the fact that he has no money, and 2) You know, he doesn't really like cookies. Oh, and 3) I have to go to work soon.
As for me, I am getting ready for what I hope will be my first solo shift at Local Bar. One of the waitresses trained me last Tuesday, and has volunteered to train me again tonight, but i'd really rather she didn't because 1) at this point, if one more person tells me what to do I'll freak out, and 2) dammit, I cannot face another night of putting my hard-earned tips in someone else's jar. I can't. I fucking need money. Stop it. This is ridiculous. You standing there making sure I don't fuck up is not helping me, because most of the times you say "you're fucking up" I'm just doing something a different trainer told me to do, and am not actually fucking up. There's a difference. So stop it. Back off and let me work, right? This isn't rocket science. It's bartending. In a slow bar on a cold rainy wretched night that promises to be slow anyway.
Sigh.
Good mood? You know... No.
And I miss writing fanfiction, because original stuff? I can post it two or three different places and wait a week or two or, maybe, three, and nobody gives a shit. Nobody says a thing. I still haven't received one comment on the novel beyond an IM message from Ann asking if I was going to keep updating. (Unless you count various commenters who were impressed by my wordcount. While I appreciated that I could impress them, the wordcount isn't honestly that important.) I wrote a whole fucking novel and nobody cares. Great! I've resumed work, for fun, on the novel just previous and nobody cares about that either. I miss the days when I'd get comments, even vapid and stupid and pointless cheerleading comments, simply because I'd written something with Éomer in it and he was cute for like, a second. You know, just getting a "OMG squee I totally love it when you write stuff" used to totally make my day, if it was on a story I cared about. Because then I knew someone was reading it. This novel? Two people have told me they were reading it, but neither of them has said a goddamn word, so I don't know. Does it suck? Is it good? Did my revisions make the protagonist sympathetic? I don't fucking know. Why don't I update it more? Gee, I don't know. Because nobody gives a shit and I'm too tired and burnt-out now to keep being the only one who cares? Hey, good answer.
Yeah. Bad mood much? Hi wretchedness. It's awesome, isn't it?
I have a bunch of bills ready to go and when i send them, I will have $9 to my name, and $700 in credit card debt, and if I don't make anything in tips then I can't get gas or food. Hell, I won't even be able to buy food during my shift at the 50% discount.
Hoo-fucking-ray.
Rant, rant, rant, bitch bitch bitch, moan moan moan. I'm not even funny, I know, I'm just whiny and stupid, and my awareness of that isn't helping matters either. And Dave's convinced I'm telling the Internet how awful he is, when for once I'm not....
Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms. For all the good it will do anyone. BLEAH!
it is cold and icky.
the people who were perfectly happy to give other people jobs for three months won't do so for dave. 'what, you'll want to quit to go back to school?' 'well, yes. see, it's like a summer job, only over the winter holidays instead.' 'oh, we can't do that.' 'but, but you do it all the time in the summer!' 'yes, well, that's different.'
I am afraid to leave the room because of the Unhappiness that is dave. I would bake him cookies, as per the helpful suggestions of several people thusfar (over the course of the rather rough past week), but 1) that wouldn't help the fact that he has no money, and 2) You know, he doesn't really like cookies. Oh, and 3) I have to go to work soon.
As for me, I am getting ready for what I hope will be my first solo shift at Local Bar. One of the waitresses trained me last Tuesday, and has volunteered to train me again tonight, but i'd really rather she didn't because 1) at this point, if one more person tells me what to do I'll freak out, and 2) dammit, I cannot face another night of putting my hard-earned tips in someone else's jar. I can't. I fucking need money. Stop it. This is ridiculous. You standing there making sure I don't fuck up is not helping me, because most of the times you say "you're fucking up" I'm just doing something a different trainer told me to do, and am not actually fucking up. There's a difference. So stop it. Back off and let me work, right? This isn't rocket science. It's bartending. In a slow bar on a cold rainy wretched night that promises to be slow anyway.
Sigh.
Good mood? You know... No.
And I miss writing fanfiction, because original stuff? I can post it two or three different places and wait a week or two or, maybe, three, and nobody gives a shit. Nobody says a thing. I still haven't received one comment on the novel beyond an IM message from Ann asking if I was going to keep updating. (Unless you count various commenters who were impressed by my wordcount. While I appreciated that I could impress them, the wordcount isn't honestly that important.) I wrote a whole fucking novel and nobody cares. Great! I've resumed work, for fun, on the novel just previous and nobody cares about that either. I miss the days when I'd get comments, even vapid and stupid and pointless cheerleading comments, simply because I'd written something with Éomer in it and he was cute for like, a second. You know, just getting a "OMG squee I totally love it when you write stuff" used to totally make my day, if it was on a story I cared about. Because then I knew someone was reading it. This novel? Two people have told me they were reading it, but neither of them has said a goddamn word, so I don't know. Does it suck? Is it good? Did my revisions make the protagonist sympathetic? I don't fucking know. Why don't I update it more? Gee, I don't know. Because nobody gives a shit and I'm too tired and burnt-out now to keep being the only one who cares? Hey, good answer.
Yeah. Bad mood much? Hi wretchedness. It's awesome, isn't it?
I have a bunch of bills ready to go and when i send them, I will have $9 to my name, and $700 in credit card debt, and if I don't make anything in tips then I can't get gas or food. Hell, I won't even be able to buy food during my shift at the 50% discount.
Hoo-fucking-ray.
Rant, rant, rant, bitch bitch bitch, moan moan moan. I'm not even funny, I know, I'm just whiny and stupid, and my awareness of that isn't helping matters either. And Dave's convinced I'm telling the Internet how awful he is, when for once I'm not....
Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms. For all the good it will do anyone. BLEAH!
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no subject
Date: 2004-12-07 08:12 pm (UTC)I can read and offer beta. I am at your disposal.
no subject
Date: 2004-12-09 02:29 am (UTC)I would be ecstatic if you'd look over the revised beta stuff, of course-- I haven't been providing thorough beta work for you, just thematic and impressionistic comments, and I don't mind if you don't get farther than that either. I just need... I suppose I just need some kind of audience that's going to care what I post. You know the feeling? I can labor in isolation all I want, but without the impetus of someone else looking at it, it's very difficult to summon the attention span to keep slogging through the difficult spots, and it's very very difficult to keep writing something readable by other humans.
Not that I'd say no to someone willing to tell me where my pacing is off or whether the characters are wooden either...
I'm just not sure how to post the thing, if I should post it to my primary journal or keep going with the ye-unpronounceable-friends-only-journal crap. Meh, it's probably better to reserve unpronounceable-secondary-journal for rough alpha stuff... Maybe your friends-filter idea is cleverer after all...
Oh the choices!
no subject
Date: 2004-12-07 08:21 pm (UTC)Sorry things are blegh right now. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2004-12-09 02:16 am (UTC)I've kept plugging along and will post another chapter on there, at least.
Take your time; I was just whining because nothing's been going right and some part of me seems to believe that listing all the things that make me sad is somehow going to help. it doesn't, but then at least I can feel sort of silly about them. Which may somehow be helpful, indirectly, I don't know...
no subject
Date: 2004-12-08 01:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-09 02:21 am (UTC)But it's OK if you don't even have time to read it. I was just complaining because I'd hoped that somebody would read it, especially as several people said they would. And, y'know, I was feeling whiny. :)