Trash or Just plain Trashy?
Finally took out the trash.
it's amazing how long you can live with a trashbag filled with fish and other such obscenities by just shifting its location from to day. if someone starts complaining of dead rats in the sink, baddabing, baddaboom - you relocate the bag to the bathroom.
You enterain this secret fantasy of that one day, your prince will come - or in this case- a country bumpkin roommate- will realise that barnyard scents don't do as well in the confinement of a 49 square meter apartment and carry the trash out because he never never does otherwise, but no.
Tommorow- his room.
I beleive that this is called silent warfare.
Right. I submitted my story for Creative Writing today. Yay. Only problem is that it's an angry piece. Well, hell. Thing is, how you write reflects upon who you are as well. Your work is, to some extent, mixed with relaity, and since your reality s the only one truly available to you, well, you write what you know. And then, sure you can write about Tom Dick or Harrys adventures in Wonderland, but it will be their adventures in wonderland through YOUR eyes. your point of view will be visible, to some extent or the other.
I guess my greatest fear here would be that people associate my writing with me. That they label me angry girl, or necrophelia nymph, (even though I have a hard time seeing me and nymph associated in any context) -or what have you. I'm not any of these people, although I do share some of their views. I do collect old boxers*. (hey Andreeeeeeasssss?) Except the necrophelia nymph. I have no idea where she came from.
Another thing about telling stories is that sometimes you get so caught up in your character that you start thinking alike. You get these "Gah!" experiences. "Gah! That's what he/she would have done. Gah!" I like those though. Unless they mess with my everyday life. It introduces an interesting question- did you create this character, or was he or she there all along?
Yegads. Working tommorow. The great thing about my job is that I sit behind a two inch thick pane of glass. You say hello, how are you", to people, have one minute conversations. this I like. No fuss, no muss. Serving sized people. just me and Neil Gaiman and a few select American Gods.
I like.
*^(Simply because I've either borrowed them or they've been left behind by mistake and never found their owner again, not for sexual purposes)
it's amazing how long you can live with a trashbag filled with fish and other such obscenities by just shifting its location from to day. if someone starts complaining of dead rats in the sink, baddabing, baddaboom - you relocate the bag to the bathroom.
You enterain this secret fantasy of that one day, your prince will come - or in this case- a country bumpkin roommate- will realise that barnyard scents don't do as well in the confinement of a 49 square meter apartment and carry the trash out because he never never does otherwise, but no.
Tommorow- his room.
I beleive that this is called silent warfare.
Right. I submitted my story for Creative Writing today. Yay. Only problem is that it's an angry piece. Well, hell. Thing is, how you write reflects upon who you are as well. Your work is, to some extent, mixed with relaity, and since your reality s the only one truly available to you, well, you write what you know. And then, sure you can write about Tom Dick or Harrys adventures in Wonderland, but it will be their adventures in wonderland through YOUR eyes. your point of view will be visible, to some extent or the other.
I guess my greatest fear here would be that people associate my writing with me. That they label me angry girl, or necrophelia nymph, (even though I have a hard time seeing me and nymph associated in any context) -or what have you. I'm not any of these people, although I do share some of their views. I do collect old boxers*. (hey Andreeeeeeasssss?) Except the necrophelia nymph. I have no idea where she came from.
Another thing about telling stories is that sometimes you get so caught up in your character that you start thinking alike. You get these "Gah!" experiences. "Gah! That's what he/she would have done. Gah!" I like those though. Unless they mess with my everyday life. It introduces an interesting question- did you create this character, or was he or she there all along?
Yegads. Working tommorow. The great thing about my job is that I sit behind a two inch thick pane of glass. You say hello, how are you", to people, have one minute conversations. this I like. No fuss, no muss. Serving sized people. just me and Neil Gaiman and a few select American Gods.
I like.
*^(Simply because I've either borrowed them or they've been left behind by mistake and never found their owner again, not for sexual purposes)
