My “friend” today said to not call it writing a novel. She said to do it one piece at a time and don’t say novel. I’m eating macaroni and cheese and I have a headache. I’m writing a chapter today. Tommorw = chapter.
This blows. I don’t like starting. My teacher said if I can do short stories and stuff then I can write. I saw another blog said 3500 words a day he’s doing. I google it and it says thats 7 pages single spaced. So I’m going to do what he’s doing. Doing it now.
(…he will commence with his well re-knowed sweater wearing abilities )
last night I was trying to fall asleep and pretty proud of myself for not being freaked out as much anymore about things that go bump in the night when I hear this soft patter. Like footsteps on the roof. I don’t assume and just lie there saying it’s the irregular rain and then I keep hearing it like little chunky freaky footsteps. So I get up and turn on the light and its this HUGE moth. I try to catch it in a box and it freaks out and I say “it’s okay moth I’m not going to kill you” and then it disappears in my dresser.
It’s super late so I finally realize I’m going to have to sleep in the room with the moth and it’ll probably crawl on my face, which I dislike. Then I think what if it’s that weird magic guy from down the street who morphed into a moth to antagonize and probably spy on me BECUZ THATS HOW I THINK and that makes me super annoyed
I wake up and it’s still ther and then I get online and some blogger posted about watching the link for silence of the lambs wtf. Not Like. unlike. Wtf
i know my therapist is going to say blah blah nobody can morph their body Stacy and blah blah just the universe and blah don’t be paranoid. I’m NOT paranoid ijs. Screw that moth crawling in. o face and shit
Oh yeah he’s gonna fire Muller.
Bet your bottom dollar, take it to the bank and pin a tail on it.
I feel weird today. I don’t know if it’s reading this book and thinking about murder and what it means to live as a crazy person and liking this guy and all the stuff I gotta do. Everything feels awful and beautiful all at the same time and it’s making me want to cry but not even in a bad way but not in the usual good way either like i’m too full up with all this love that doesn’t even want to go awaya nd i need to figure out what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m dehydrated.
I also have bad thoughts. so I guess that cancels that out and its all even again. I like this song :
https://youtu.be/mtf7hC17IBM its how i feel and now i think this blog was all about feeling but my doctor says thats improvement ha
whatevs you care wht i listen to ha Reading the Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes and I keep stopping and thinking the weirdness of everything. Listening to this:
This book is crazy and I don’t want to give it away I just want to talk about it. I like how she’s writing in the present and not all the “he jumped” and “She said” but like it’s happening right now. He jumps. She says.
It goes with the book being about time travel. And then there’s the murdering guy with is freaking me out a little (but not a lot) when I think about the stalker I had. HAs. Ugh. The guy I like I WANT to stalk me and I hope he does but it never really happens like that. I think. I want to write a story with the present tense instead of the past but when i try it feels awkward and like the person if they read it will smirk, smug. Like, “This asshole, who’d they think they are writing this bullshit” and then I keep thinking that and my story dies.
I wan t Ben2Times and the rest of them to come back and let me write something awesome about them but I think I did something wrong, and I don’t know who it is yet.
I’m starting this book for the summer. It looks good and not putting me to sleep at the beach. My mom says don’t read it and my imagination but I think it’ll help me get better with my stories. I want to read Stephens King writing tips book too.
And the “Shining” is on Netflix now June too ha
I want to watch that “It Comes at Night” too but it looks for real scary I’ll see if I can
I know it’s all imagined
I was just joking when I asked you to unclasp my bra.
I was serious.
I was playing