instead of writing
Sep. 9th, 2005 09:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7I know. I was going to actually write something. I did about a page of random exposition last night, in the beginnings of my nebulous attempt to re-tackle Ye Anciente Novelle About Dragones. Difficulties inherent in that project: 1) 15 years of baggage (really? Wow), 2) a co-writer whose version of the story is going in an entirely different direction, 3) holy shit waaay too much plot. Of these, 3 of the 3 are currently surmountable in my head, by simply 1) throwing out any of the baggage I don't like anymore, as I haven't used it in so long that the unusable parts have grown quite stale anyway, 2) the co-writer never listened to my ideas except to plagiarize them so why am I so worried about offending her? our stories are so different now she can still write hers as she sees fit; they're separate novels, or I will make them so, and 3) Pff, again I have plenty of distance and can just cut out the parts i don't want. Although I'm a little worried by the fact that I stumbled across an attempt of about a year ago to re-tackle the story, and the bit I wrote then is way lamer than any of the cringe-worthy bits I composed in high school. Although what makes me cringe in the early writing, mostly, is the fact that I could not adhere to a point of view for the life of me. Starts out strongly from A's point of view, T reacts and we hear his thoughts, then the baby has a paragraph, and mid-paragraph I'm back to A worrying what T thinks-- you know, it's really quite dizzying. And not once, never, ever, in any of the writing or composition classes I took throughout the eight or ten years I was in one form of school or another and studying creative writing, not once did anyone comment on this. I had absolutely no idea until I got into fanfic that a consistent POV was important.
It boggles the mind. I have a bachelor's degree in creative writing, and the Internet taught me about POV.
But I digress.
But I can't stop thinking about running away to Japan.
After high school I went to Scotland for a full year. OK, ten months. I put everything I owned into two suitcases and a backpack, and crossed a major ocean, and didn't come home. I called once a month or so, and e-mailed maybe once a week, and travelled Europe a bit, but mostly I was stuck in a school far more repressive than anything I'd ever encountered, and also spent a month in isolation because I was horribly ill. I didn't actually get that much adventuring done. I mostly studied, which was dumb.
I didn't mind the ten months without family-- well, I did, I cried a bit, but I was perfectly fine. I don't see most of my family above three times a year anyway as it is.
I had a... well, it wasn't a lovely time, but it was an important time, and I learned a lot from it. I also didn't write for a year. But that's another point. At that point I think I thought I was going to be a history major. I ended up the year convinced I'd eventually join a commune that raised llamas for their wool and did IT consulting through the Internet (ambitious, given that in 1998 there wasn't all that much Internet. Some, but not all that much, and not in the Outer Hebrides, which was where this llama commune was going to be.)
But, again, I digress.
At this point the only reason I wouldn't run away to Japan is that, well, I have a nice little life here. It's on the boring and frustrating side in certain respects-- devoting 36 1/2 hours a week of my life to a job where the management laughs at my misfortune as it enacts destructive policies, and where friends and neighbors innocently ask when I'll get a real one. But for the most part, I'm happy here. I have a garden, finally, and want to be here to see the lilies I planted bloom next summer. I have irises, I have snowdrops, I have crocuses. I want to see all of that.
And I have a boy I'm happy with. For three years he has completely failed to give me significant pain or annoyance. I still cannot believe he used the dish brush on his feet and claimed that was OK, but he is adorable and he gave me a high-five goodbye as he went to work this morning, with the lunch I packed him. And he says he'd miss me if I went away, but that I should go anyway. I asked him what he would do with all my stuff, if he'd sell it. And he said no, but he'd put it in the attic.
Sigh. It's all terribly ambiguous. I am as gaijin as is possible to be, and the fact that I can spell in hiragana doesn't change the fact that I am probably 80 pounds heavier than the average Japanese woman and still can't read kanji. I could reliably ascertain that I would not be able to find clothing in Japan and would have to order exclusively from the Internet-- but that wouldn't be different than normal. I also could reliably say I wouldn't see my family for the year, unless I came home at the mandatory holiday at New Year's-- but that wouldn't be much different from now, when it took a move of Heaven and Earth to get me a weekend off to see my family for my birthday. I mean... I'd have New Year's off. That's something I can guarantee I won't, if I stay in my current job. Yes, I am more likely to see my family for the holidays if I move to Japan.
Also, I'd have health insurance and a visa.
And it's stupid, but I can't stop thinking about it and wondering why not?
I had The Talk with Z, and he was reading messages online about scooters so it was difficult for him to stop snickering. But he did get serious long enough to say that he really doesn't anticipate having any major life events in the next year, but he never plans these things. It was slightly maddening, and sort of reassuring, and sort of ambiguous. I dunno. I've never been really successful at the Long Distance thing. But maybe... I don't know.
I'm still thinking about it.
And I've neatly managed to avoid doing any writing in the sole hour I had for it today. Hurrah for me!
It boggles the mind. I have a bachelor's degree in creative writing, and the Internet taught me about POV.
But I digress.
But I can't stop thinking about running away to Japan.
After high school I went to Scotland for a full year. OK, ten months. I put everything I owned into two suitcases and a backpack, and crossed a major ocean, and didn't come home. I called once a month or so, and e-mailed maybe once a week, and travelled Europe a bit, but mostly I was stuck in a school far more repressive than anything I'd ever encountered, and also spent a month in isolation because I was horribly ill. I didn't actually get that much adventuring done. I mostly studied, which was dumb.
I didn't mind the ten months without family-- well, I did, I cried a bit, but I was perfectly fine. I don't see most of my family above three times a year anyway as it is.
I had a... well, it wasn't a lovely time, but it was an important time, and I learned a lot from it. I also didn't write for a year. But that's another point. At that point I think I thought I was going to be a history major. I ended up the year convinced I'd eventually join a commune that raised llamas for their wool and did IT consulting through the Internet (ambitious, given that in 1998 there wasn't all that much Internet. Some, but not all that much, and not in the Outer Hebrides, which was where this llama commune was going to be.)
But, again, I digress.
At this point the only reason I wouldn't run away to Japan is that, well, I have a nice little life here. It's on the boring and frustrating side in certain respects-- devoting 36 1/2 hours a week of my life to a job where the management laughs at my misfortune as it enacts destructive policies, and where friends and neighbors innocently ask when I'll get a real one. But for the most part, I'm happy here. I have a garden, finally, and want to be here to see the lilies I planted bloom next summer. I have irises, I have snowdrops, I have crocuses. I want to see all of that.
And I have a boy I'm happy with. For three years he has completely failed to give me significant pain or annoyance. I still cannot believe he used the dish brush on his feet and claimed that was OK, but he is adorable and he gave me a high-five goodbye as he went to work this morning, with the lunch I packed him. And he says he'd miss me if I went away, but that I should go anyway. I asked him what he would do with all my stuff, if he'd sell it. And he said no, but he'd put it in the attic.
Sigh. It's all terribly ambiguous. I am as gaijin as is possible to be, and the fact that I can spell in hiragana doesn't change the fact that I am probably 80 pounds heavier than the average Japanese woman and still can't read kanji. I could reliably ascertain that I would not be able to find clothing in Japan and would have to order exclusively from the Internet-- but that wouldn't be different than normal. I also could reliably say I wouldn't see my family for the year, unless I came home at the mandatory holiday at New Year's-- but that wouldn't be much different from now, when it took a move of Heaven and Earth to get me a weekend off to see my family for my birthday. I mean... I'd have New Year's off. That's something I can guarantee I won't, if I stay in my current job. Yes, I am more likely to see my family for the holidays if I move to Japan.
Also, I'd have health insurance and a visa.
And it's stupid, but I can't stop thinking about it and wondering why not?
I had The Talk with Z, and he was reading messages online about scooters so it was difficult for him to stop snickering. But he did get serious long enough to say that he really doesn't anticipate having any major life events in the next year, but he never plans these things. It was slightly maddening, and sort of reassuring, and sort of ambiguous. I dunno. I've never been really successful at the Long Distance thing. But maybe... I don't know.
I'm still thinking about it.
And I've neatly managed to avoid doing any writing in the sole hour I had for it today. Hurrah for me!
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-09 01:53 pm (UTC)To go off an a complete tangent, do you mean St Andrews uni there?
Oh, god. *wibbles*
As for running away to Japan... when the reasons to stay seem less pressing than the reasons to stay, then your decision is pretty much made for you.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-09 02:00 pm (UTC)NO. God no. No. I was in St. Andrews, but I attended a high school there-- it's now a sixth-form college, and is now co-ed, but when I was there it had been a girls' school since 1877 and was nominally Anglican or somesuch, and they locked us in at night and threatened to expel me for lesbianism, etcetera.
St. Andrews was down the street and we used their library all the time, and i occasionally fantasized about coming there on a university exchange program and finally getting to see what Scotland was like. I didn't, of course, and thus still don't know.
Not that I don't miss the place. There's a great cave down on the Castle Sands, where you can smoke and the teachers don't catch you usually-- St. Rule's Cave, right near the big rectangle in the water that used to be (and I am not kidding) St. Leonard's School's swimming pool. Yes, they had a swimming pool in the North Sea. Clever birds, what?
no subject
Date: 2005-09-09 02:03 pm (UTC)(The expulsion for lesbianism thing is probably why I am so fucked up even now although I do plan on dropping in on my old high school and telling them one day.)
I will posts lots of picture of St Andrews and let you know. And my acconmmodation is right by the beach, so I will try and find that cave.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-10 01:04 pm (UTC)I would be delighted, however, to see lots of pictures of the city. I have an odd memory and so only certain little parts of it are vivid to me; I have forgotten entirely about large swathes of the place, so much so that it is disconcerting to try to piece together memories. I do recall Ogston's was where we went, ostensibly for "coffee" but really for booze, and we would buy a coke and then keep the glass so that when we went back and got a mixed drink, we could put it into our coke glass and look more innocent.
And of course, Janetta's, for ice cream. Here's a little snapshot of the school: Girls in uniform were not allowed to eat or drink anything while they walked, not apples, not coffee. One brutal morning I made myself a cup of tea and put it into my insulated thermal travel mug (all American girls have one) and used it as a handwarmer to get to class through the raw wind, and was soundly berated once there for breaking rules.
But-- Janetta's ice cream was the exception. Girls were allowed to eat Janetta's ice cream cones.
(Janetta's has some of the best ice cream ever, and it's right across from the school gate.)