Sunday, March 21, 2010

Occupational Hazards

Whew! I'm back from a refreshing week of housesitting, armed with new lufferly insights! Now, now--don't all groan in excitement at once, you hear?

You hear about occupational hazards all the time. Researchers of deadly diseases might contract the diseases themselves. Zoo workers might get eaten by their charges. Writers might fall into despair and kill themselves because they're sure that "It's just not for us" is code for "u suck we all hate u go get a real job not writing this crap".

Housesitters also have occupational hazards. Besides the usual--burglars, housefires, alien abductions--you have certain dangers unique to particular houses. The hazard I faced this last week can be summed up in two words: Demon. Cat.

The people I was sitting for are old friends of my mom's. I've known them my whole life. They've always had criminal numbers of cats. Right now, it's four. Not that I mind--I've got two cats of my own, I'm not allergic, and three of the said four kitties definitely do not pose a significant threat to my health.

However, the fourth cat is Demon Cat. Also known as "Oni Neko," which is Japanese for "somebody put that cat in a freaking asylum because it's going to kill someone really soon."

The hair on the back of my neck prickled so much I thought I was getting allergic to cats after all. Practically every time I turned around, there *he* was. Demon Cat. Glaring at me with those evil yellow eyes of his. I was almost afraid to go to sleep at night, sure that I wouldn't wake up again. Or, if I did, it wouldn't be for long, because DC would be... well... eating me.

I did, indeed, survive. The cost was great. I may never get that patch of hair to grow back. But it was worth it. One word: FastInternet. Hah! I cheated. But it's one word. So there.

Hm... wit. Some people have it. Some don't. Haa...

Friday, March 12, 2010

Decisions, Decisions...

Okay, being on the Internet right now might not be the best of ideas. I just tried to spell "decisions" with first an initial "des" and then a "desc." Twice. Each. Ugh. The funny thing about being me is I never get to look back on stuff I wrote when I was really tired or typing really fast and giggle at some serendipitously hilarious typo I made because I catch a good 99.999999% of them.

And now I can't remember why I titled this "Decisions, Decisions." Dang, there I go with the almost-typoing again!

Oh, wait, now I remember. (Don't give groans of appreciation all at once, now, hear?)

So, I was planning out some maybe slightly witty-ish blog post in my head (as I try to do because I pretty much have no spontaneous wit section in my brain, woe is me) and an odd little discussion occurred. Yes. I started debating with the blog post that hadn't even been written yet. I wasn't even sure I was going to post tonight. But I digress.

Lilli: Blah blah (I don't remember what this part was, in case you can't tell) blah... I love Japanese grammar... blah... grammar... blah... drug of choice... blah...

Post: This is boring. Do I have to come into existence?

Lilli: If I want you to. Yes. Yes, you do.

Post: Shouldn't you be writing something else?

Lilli: (Here goes the Stare of Intimidation.) Like what?

Post: Two words: Urban. Fantasy.

Lilli: ...I have no idea what you're talking--

Post: You sound just like Jaina there.

Lilli: ...

Post: Remember? That one character you think is funny? The one you were giggling madly over while writing that scene today--

Lilli: Maybe I want to procrastinate.

Post: You always want to procrastinate.

Lilli: It's legitimate! I... I have a fear of commitment! And intimacy! Even when talking about a fictional story!

Post: You know those people on AW with finished books? (Awkward pause.) Yeah. Them. You could totally do that if you spent half the time you spend complaining about how you can't write on writing.

Lilli: Was that grammatically correct?

Post: I refuse to formulate until you start writing something productive. Other than me.

Lilli: ...I hate sentient posts. (Here goes the Glare of Ultimate Rabbit-Infested Doom.)

Bah. That wasn't exactly how it played out, but that's the gist. I've decided I'm going to write some more of my currently favored WIP. With breaks for random shows in Japanese.

Have I mentioned yet that I almost literally get high on learning new Japanese grammar constructs?

Thursday, March 11, 2010

On Breaking Twilights...

...and other screwed-up titles.

Lots of people dislike Stephenie Meyer. I've been thinking lately. I think some of the hate might be jealousy, but a lot of it is that Twilight is crap.

I'm not going to get into it. Honestly, I'm sick of anti-Twilight ranting, both from other people and from me. Twilight has... a very, very few good points, I think. And Stephenie Meyer isn't necessarily a bad writer just because she churned out the Twilight books.

A list! List! List frenzy! I can has list? Hoo... I think I'm slap happy! ...does that need a hyphen?


A random Stephenie Meyer-related list of wonder! !! !!! !!!! (Enough with the freaking exclamation points. Sheesh.)

1. I actually like part of Twilight. Namely, the part between the "preface" and the part where Mr. Sparkly Melodrama Pants comes in. After that, I hate it. It just took me four books to figure that part out.

2. I loved The Host. And I still do. I love the characters and the idea, and I usually hate alien invasion stories.

3. Ergo, I think SMeyer is only a bad writer in terms of the Twilight books.

4. Why on earth was there ever any debate on who Obsessive Girl was going to end up with? Hm. Mr. Sparkly Pants vs. Mr. Angsty Werewolf. MAW was a convenient plot tool in the first book. OG is the female lead. Female leads don't fall in love with convenient plot tools.

5. I love the MAW's chapters in the fourth book. Or, rather, the titles. Freaking hilarious. I wish I had wit.

Seriously. Wit is nice. Wit makes people like you. If I had wit, my life would be perfect. [/scapegoat]

Is SMeyer ever going to write something else? I'd love to read another book like The Host.

On an unrelated note...

I'm so sick of getting new ideas. I just need to finish something. Stupid lack of self-discipline. Stupid Internet--it's such a distraction. Stupid scapegoating. [/scapegoat2]

I jump from project to project way too much. Who says I've got attention defi--ooh! Shiny!

Saturday, March 6, 2010


So, I've been doing some thinking lately. Life sucks. I've known this for a long time. I'm a pessimist. I've known this for awhile, too. Something I haven't really been able to believe, though, is that happiness is, at least partly, a choice.

I tend towards the negative side. It's just my natural attitude. And I don't remember very often to try to be happy. That's just a foreign concept to me--either I'm happy or I'm not. I've never been good at trying to be happy. But being in this play has taught me something.

I had a bad experience with the previous show. There was just too much stress involved and I wasn't enjoying it because I really have a hard time respecting the director. He's not very effective, and that put a lot of stress on me because I have this tendency to worry about stuff I don't have control over--like whether we'd get the whole show blocked before opening night. The same thing happened with this show. I almost quit because of it. The only reason I didn't was because said director--and my relatively few friends in the theatre group--are really persuasive.

I hated doing this show, pretty much up until opening night. The final rehearsal, the day before the first performance, was great, however. And I didn't really get why at first, until I figured out that I'd been trying to like the show, because I missed enjoying theatre.

And there's the kicker. Once I realized that trying to like it helped, I tried to enjoy the performances. Guess what? It worked. I'm in love with the theatre again, and if only for that reason, sticking with the show was totally worth it.

So, I'm not promising results, but from now on I'm going to try to look on the bright side of things. Like I said, doing so is unnatural for me. But maybe if I do it long enough, it'll become a habit. And maybe by doing so, I'll become funny, and reading my blog will be slightly more fun than porcupine juggling.

Huh. Somehow I thought that would be wittier. Oh, well...