Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Letter to a Non-existent Being

This is to a character who I have been having... issues with, for, I don't know, a good six months. She has been in a closet (my mind is set up like an old abandoned house with surprisingly stable locks) for the past two months. And so... here it goes.

My apologies (yes, I know I got that from Dave). I now understand why you are so hung up over a certain someone and I should not be mad at you for being your girly self. Even if you tend to be the complete opposite of me, and so having you make comments is rather annoying.
But I can not release you from your confinement in the closet. I am going to change the lightbulb though! Won't that be great?
I can not deal with you being in love with Obadiah right now. Thanks to spending some time with him (for your story! I promise. Don't get mad.) I am now... I get your point. So, I have to get back to merely putting up with his weird behavior before releasing you.
Please feel free to pass me notes through the crack under the door. Or even have Zipporah visit you. Then maybe I won't want to puke with the lovely romance you let ebb through your words.
Well, before I am tempted to let you go on and on about "your" Obadiah (and how you secretly wish Scotch would fall in a well) , I must flee this section of the "house" for the part with weapons and warring wizards.
I hope to free you soon, patient prisoner.

Yup. I just wrote a letter to someone who lives in my head and notebooks. At least she can't kill me...

Friday, October 15, 2010

Mental Health now means Writing

I can not help it. I am secretly trying my best to squirm my way out of school.

By squirm I mean coming down in the morning with a pitiful look on my face complaining that my stummy hurts. Okay, not really. I only did that once and I did feel sick. But, still. I managed to avoid school for two days.

And I got to write.

Yeah, I know, this is all boring. Why would anyone care? Actually, that applies to everything I write. Especially my stories.

But I don't care.

I would go insane without them.

I am unsure how exactly this is insane, but, okay. I'll listen to Google.

Not that I am not insane with them, just it would be a whole lot worse.

If I am not writing, those little creeps will begin to nudge my mind. By nudging I mean I might randomly begin flirting with the guy ringing up my crackers or trying my best to act "normal" and smart whilst descending some stairs with my friend. In other words, my characters let me know they need to be written about.

And yes, I realize I am already psychotic and should go see a psychiatrist. I don't think so.

Why? Because I am perfectly fine if I write.

So, I have squirmed my way out of a week of school for Mental Health issues. I am going to write. and Write. and Write. But, I will be making myself more mentally stable.

Which, by the way, is really hard to explain to teachers.

"Are you distressed?"

Uh... how exactly do you tell your teacher that it is the characters in your head that are distressed and you really don't want to be crying over your cup being dirty because it reminds Luna of Obadiah?

"No. I just, um, yeah. I'm also going on vacation!" *runs away*


PSAT. Write an essay about how a book that truthfully sucks rocks. Then... lalala la! Writing!!!

And mentally stabilizing myself. Ah...

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Notebooks, Grapes, and Faces

The man who adopted my mother and the woman he has been married to since before my birth, made their way down from Buffalo to visit their lowly "granddaughter" (I use those marks due to the status of adopted and step.) and then took her out for dinner. Whilst there, happily enjoying my fancy Chinese - Ahem. Sorry. Asian - food, the one I call Grandma bent down and came up holding a little bag.
"This is for you." she said.
Well, obviously. I figured it was not for the waiter who was standing there, a twinkle in his eye. (I'd just like to say that surprising people with the staff singing you a song as you make yourself a fat little piggy and gorge yourself will not make them like you very much. In fact, it just might have the opposite effect. Anypoodle, back to the "story") So, being a normal teenager, I took the little bag and opened it.
I got a notebook! It's really pretty and it's blue and green and purple and I LOVE that combination.
that set up, just prettier. and not... that.
There was also this amazing pen that writes on all the paper I tried it on and looks really pretty and I had so much fun with it.

Oh. And I got fifty dollars and a little purse thing that cost a ton of money. But, who cares? I got a notebook!!!!!!!
This is why we don't keep the reason for our insanity wholly a secret.

Until your mother begins making fun of you because you excited about a bunch of paper gathered together. Whatever. She just doesn't understand.

Which is why instead of saying I wanted little bottles of cinnamon and calamuse at the party I was forced into, I went with grapes. Aren't they delicious, though? I could eat them all day.


Photo of Grapes
And, they are perfect for throwing at people. If they are nearby and someone bothers you (as in his nose looks really obnoxious now that all the hair is chopped off from the head attached to the nose), all one must do is take a grape, grin maliciously (maybe this is just me though) and chuck it at their face.