how boring am I? so very.
Jan. 16th, 2006 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7So since my brief whining last night, i've managed to write about 3,000 words, so I should probably stop whining. Thing is, I am not convinced they're any good. I mean, I'm writing competently, I just think my pacing's no good. But given the amount of trouble I've had with the plotting, I think the pacing is something I'm going to leave as a concern for the next draft. I just. Want. A. Coherent. DRAFT. In which all the plot elements actually OCCUR. Including the ENDING. So, that's our goal. And if Our Hero tends to have an awful lot of inner monologue about not a whole lot, well then, that's all right, for this draft. (I have just read somewhere that tight first-person is So Not Done, but I'm also not thinking about that.)
I do rather like bits of it, I will admit. I am a vain little bastard.
I have racked up over a thousand of those words this morning, and so am taking a wee break to cruise around the Internet. For some reason (I think![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
killerwhaletank was talking about it) I got to reading articles about the Buffalo Sabres and how inexplicably well they're doing. The weird situation they find themselves in with three goaltenders instead of the usual two has a few interesting articles about it, and for some reason the patient and professional way the goalies themselves are dealing with the issue really gives me a good feeling, almost warm fuzzies. Why? I don't know. They're just being professionals about it. Which is not something you honestly see that much of in sports or, for that matter, anything nowadays.
Also I like Mika Noronen a lot. Not just because he was the goalie in the game I went to see and he was really good until he hurt himself and had to go out during the shootout (bummer), but also because he's the one getting the most screwed so his patience is the more exceptional. And I admit, it rather helps that his exceedingly goofy headshot (Nobody looks that goofy without doing so on purpose. Come on, Mika) bears a passing resemblance to one of my exceedingly goofy cousins (who has rather made a career specialty out of looking goofy, because he does it so very well).
Didn't know I was a sports fiend? I am not. Yesterday during the Godawful Colts-Steelers game there was a point where the entire bar erupted in screams and cheers, and I dropped the drink I was making and clapped both hands over my hears and shrieked "I HATE THIS FUCKING SPORT SO MUCH!" I do. I hate football. I fucking hate football. I hate football fans. I hate the whole thing. I hate how the bar gets full of oblivious fucktards who don't fucking tip and who throw shit and make messes and who trip you. I almost had a panic attack because the bar was absolutely fucking crammed full of people, I could not walk across the floor because they wouldn't let me through, and they were all being unutterably rude. For the first time ever I actually was snide about an asshole not tipping me: "Your generosity is appreciated," I said sharply as he left, my fake-smile wide and my sarcasm on full. He didn't respond, but one of the men in his party turned in astonishment: "Did he tip you?" "No," I said flatly, and walked away.
The other man stood up and put $5 Canadian on the vacated table, and as he left apologized for his friends. I almost cried, because it was the first time anybody had been nice to me all day.
I remain a bit disturbed at how close I came to actually totally losing my shit. I didn't know I was claustrophobic. But I hate it and I Cannot Deal when the place gets so full I can't get through. And when it's that loud. I hate it when it's so loud. Guh. *brainmelt*
That said, I agreed to work 9-5 on Wednesday for a coworker who has a funeral to attend. Why? Because she needed somebody to do it. Will it be pointless and stupid? Yes. But. Still. There I am. It won't kill me. I just have to not forget.
I do rather like bits of it, I will admit. I am a vain little bastard.
I have racked up over a thousand of those words this morning, and so am taking a wee break to cruise around the Internet. For some reason (I think
killerwhaletank was talking about it) I got to reading articles about the Buffalo Sabres and how inexplicably well they're doing. The weird situation they find themselves in with three goaltenders instead of the usual two has a few interesting articles about it, and for some reason the patient and professional way the goalies themselves are dealing with the issue really gives me a good feeling, almost warm fuzzies. Why? I don't know. They're just being professionals about it. Which is not something you honestly see that much of in sports or, for that matter, anything nowadays.Also I like Mika Noronen a lot. Not just because he was the goalie in the game I went to see and he was really good until he hurt himself and had to go out during the shootout (bummer), but also because he's the one getting the most screwed so his patience is the more exceptional. And I admit, it rather helps that his exceedingly goofy headshot (Nobody looks that goofy without doing so on purpose. Come on, Mika) bears a passing resemblance to one of my exceedingly goofy cousins (who has rather made a career specialty out of looking goofy, because he does it so very well).
Didn't know I was a sports fiend? I am not. Yesterday during the Godawful Colts-Steelers game there was a point where the entire bar erupted in screams and cheers, and I dropped the drink I was making and clapped both hands over my hears and shrieked "I HATE THIS FUCKING SPORT SO MUCH!" I do. I hate football. I fucking hate football. I hate football fans. I hate the whole thing. I hate how the bar gets full of oblivious fucktards who don't fucking tip and who throw shit and make messes and who trip you. I almost had a panic attack because the bar was absolutely fucking crammed full of people, I could not walk across the floor because they wouldn't let me through, and they were all being unutterably rude. For the first time ever I actually was snide about an asshole not tipping me: "Your generosity is appreciated," I said sharply as he left, my fake-smile wide and my sarcasm on full. He didn't respond, but one of the men in his party turned in astonishment: "Did he tip you?" "No," I said flatly, and walked away.
The other man stood up and put $5 Canadian on the vacated table, and as he left apologized for his friends. I almost cried, because it was the first time anybody had been nice to me all day.
I remain a bit disturbed at how close I came to actually totally losing my shit. I didn't know I was claustrophobic. But I hate it and I Cannot Deal when the place gets so full I can't get through. And when it's that loud. I hate it when it's so loud. Guh. *brainmelt*
That said, I agreed to work 9-5 on Wednesday for a coworker who has a funeral to attend. Why? Because she needed somebody to do it. Will it be pointless and stupid? Yes. But. Still. There I am. It won't kill me. I just have to not forget.
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 04:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 04:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 05:10 pm (UTC)In that "I like to hang out and be goofy" way.
<3
no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 05:12 pm (UTC)I should start a fanclub.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 05:25 pm (UTC)