On stories

So two things. One, I changed the layout, because I was feeling empowered. Yes, I can!

Two, I sort of want to tell a story. So I'm going to, even though my hands are STILL really cold and not working (I went for a run because I was really pissed off, and then some lady on a bike yelled at me to hurry up and cross the crosswalk or she'd hit me, and I really wanted to tackle her but she was attached to a small child. So I didn't).

It's the story of the lemmings, the turtle, and the partridge. Or maybe it's not. Maybe it's the story of me being supremely pissed off and not entirely sure how to deal with it. Maybe it's the story I'm supposed to write for English but don't want to (because I think Chekhov is, quite honestly, not worth imitating).

But it's a story.

....And apparently that little paragraph was it. My brain is suddenly empty of all stories save for the first story I ever really told on my own, which involved a port-a-potty named Honeybucket and his quest. Really. I sent a port-a-potty on a quest. He (of COURSE it was a he) met a bunch of other inanimate objects on his way to the junk yard, and the last one was, and I kid you not, the Big Car-Crusher-Thingy-That-Crushes-Cars-Because-That's-What-It's-Supposed-To-Do.

Seriously.

That's what I called the story's villain. This story was apparently hilariously funny to small children, and it involved chirping, "My name's Honeybucket!" pretty much every few seconds. I don't really remember how it goes, but I feel like Honeybucket was eventually able to convince the Car-Crusher-Thingy not to crush him (even though that's what it's supposed to do), and live a free and happy life in the wild. Or something. Maybe he was just happy to go on fulfilling his purpose of holding people's bodily waste.

It's probably the best story I've ever come up with. I sort of wish I could remember it all, write it down, and turn it in.

Sadly, I can't remember it, so I have to write another story, which I should probably get started on. But I hope you were touched by Honeybucket.

On cats and chocolate and yesterday

So a) I totally called it and b) THERE IS NOT ENOUGH CHOCOLATE FOR COPIOUS CONSUMPTION TO OCCUR. Which is depressing. I plan on running to QFC tomorrow to stock up. In between running around the island trying to drop people off and pick people up and do a dance involving three walruses and a cup of tea. Don't judge.

On the other hand, this Saturday is Diwali, which usually means yummy food.

On the other, other hand, I just took the SAT. The high school kids from where I took it make me feel better about myself, but 4 hours of testing is a pain in the ass no matter what. And I woke up at six. And I was babysitting, so I went to sleep at 12:30.

Majorly ew.

At least I got paid, so even if I didn't go to Homecoming (which, in my opinion, is no great loss), I wound up a little richer. Money is power and all that. Or, as LS would say, money means eventually, everyone will work for me. Muahaha.

Oh, the life lessons I've learned from high school. Aren't they precious?

Speaking of precious, we got barn cats, finally. We've been having a serious rat problem, but the problem is that there are always a couple of rather large dogs wandering around, so we've been having a hard time finding cats who'll catch rats and not flip out at the sight of a German Shepherd. Presumably, someone managed to track a pair down. I've only met one so far, but it's super cute. Not as cute as my puppy, or Cuddles, or Elsie the slab cat, but still super cute.

I'm just hoping it doesn't leave dead rats everywhere, because that is almost as gross as the SAT. Almost.

On PMS and massive sleep deprivation

Arr, I be marooned on the island of no inspiration!

And this is pissing me off.

Mostly because I feel a really strong urge to write....but the words aren't feeling so happy with me right now.

And I'm feeling an even stronger urge to read, and I don't want it to be Anna "Love Hexagon" Karenina.

I want to read something good. Something that makes me cry a bit. I need to get that out of my system. And then I can go back to liking books that involve dragons and zombies and badasses in pink jumpsuits.

I'm also really grumbly right now because of these various feelings (oh, the inconvenience of not being a robot). If I grumble at you, or ignore you, or hunch over into a grouchy little fetal position, forgive me. I'm hoping it's PMS. At least then I can cure it with the copious consumption of chocolate.

Also, on the subject of PMS (AKA THIS IS YOUR WARNING: RUN NOW, SQUICK WILL FOLLOW).

I feel like girls blame it for a lot of things, but at the same time it's really weird how consistent it is in terms of what sort of havoc it plays. Like, I always get really mopey, which makes me angry, so I'm miserable to be around. I also definitely have wild chocolate cravings. And then equally consistent, I have terrible cramps for a single day. Which, you know, it could be a lot worse. And I've noticed that if I get distracted (by video games or bad TV or good TV or my PUPPY), they're pretty much ignorable. Which, okay. I should hate less on the girlbits than other people.

But. But. Here's something really weird. Having been a beanpole for most of my life (until my metabolism slowed the fuck down around 8th/9th grade, curse it), I sort of expected I'd get my period...late. And I was all "Oh rats, once again I will be the late bloomer". Except this was not to be. And I realized, as soon as I got it, that it was pretty much THE WORST. I mean, it's inconvenient and awkward and painful and just kind of gross. And it has no respect for the fact that you were in class, trying to go about your every day life. Or on your class trip. Or about to go to Hawaii. Or in India, where most places don't actually have toilets.

Oh, the stories I could tell. I'm not sure if it's just that my luck sucks, or if everyone has tons of stories like I do, and we just never swap them (we should. It would be amusing and I would feel better about how unlucky I am). Is it sad that in some ways, I can't wait for menopause?

OKAY THE SQUICK IS DONE NOW.

But I'm not done yet! I've got more to whine about in a vaguely pathetic manner! Like the fact that I'm so exhausted, I've been driving hunched over the wheel like an old lady in order to stay awake! My sister calls it Beaver-Mode. Beaver-Mode Ishani has created a new dance style called "How to dance while not falling asleep on I-5, which would probably be a stupendously bad idea". Seriously. I was yawing so hard I was crying on the way home today. This is bad. Someone should do something. Like write my college apps for me.

That would be nice.

On imitation and literature

In English class the other day, the teacher said that unless you're a genius, you learn how to write by copying other writers. Now, I don't think I'm a genius (if only, right?), but the few attempts I have made at copying other, talented writers have gone miserably south. I would demonstrate just how far south, but I don't think you would appreciate it. Also I'm not sure I could stand the humiliation.

So here's the question of the day: can a regular person really not learn to write on their own?

Personally, I'd think that good writing comes from reading, and reading alone. You don't have to directly imitate one writer or another; rather if you have a library of sorts in your head you can take your favorite writing styles from various authors and put your own twist on them. It's really damn hard to make yourself write exactly like someone else, and in my opinion it's because you SHOULDN'T be trying to write in a single author's style. Kind of seems like plagiarism, you know? And honestly, it's not anything groundbreaking if someone's done it first-- aren't you limiting yourself by sticking to a preordained style?

Anyways, something to mull over. Also, on a somewhat unrelated note, people (in general) need to pull their heads out of their asses and realize that just because a piece of writing isn't "great literature" doesn't mean it has no value. I used to make this argument and say that the point of a novel was to be both interesting and entertaining. I feel like I should add that I've found a few novels that fit those qualifications and are also astoundingly well-written. And I don't mean, "Oh, they're better than most of the other novels that I think are fun." I mean, "Holy shit, I think I like this better than anything else I've ever read EVER." And that's saying something--I know I don't read tons of "literature", but I am still fairly well-read, and a lot of the classics actually just can't compare to the novels I'm thinking about.

Eventually, I'll brainwash you all into not being the least bit skeptical about my taste in music or books. Really. It will happen.

On being social (or not)

I would not mind the coming of the apocalypse so long as I had a giant flying robot friend. Presumably, with the help of Gigantor or Optimus Prime, I'd be able to save what I cared about.

On a more serious note, it bothers me how willing people are to be peer-pressured into doing something. I'm not saying I haven't done this (I have, and many times), but it's a distressing tendency anyways. On the other hand, it's not like the alternative is much better. I know people say "Your real friends won't care, and you should ignore everybody else", but it's sort of miserable to live that way. I would know. I tend to spend time almost exclusively with my "real friends", and I feel awkward with anyone else. Which makes a lot of things really uncomfortable--I'm just plain awful at being sociable. People who I don't know very well avoid me because I make them uncomfortable in turn.

And the weird part about all this is that I'd like to think I'm pretty good at reading people(admittedly, I can be oblivious about some things-- mostly romantic interest between two people). I'm good at analyzing why people do what they do. So it follows that I should be able to figure out why I'm making people uncomfortable and then remedy that.

Sadly, that would require me to talk to people I don't know. Eek.

I'd rather live in my own little world--I don't mind interacting with masses of people, but I much prefer to be alone. You actually learn a lot about yourself that way, and you get to do some good thinking. For example, I've started working out a formula for the sort of movies I can't get over my love for. It's not precise yet, but it's pretty cool to see what I like and what I don't like in particular--rather than just saying, "Oh, these are my favorite movies because they're awesome." It turns out there are more than a few common factors.

Also, this way I can save myself from the embarassment of giggling at random intervals in front of other people. And I get to read, and listen to music, and read some more. I've actually read some amazing things online (also a lot of crap, but it's a price worth paying). So you all should take my advice: BE A HERMIT. IT ROCKS.

On pants and other things

Once again, dear readers (and the senior retreat was very enlightening--it turns out there are more than two of you!), I have failed to post.

So let's talk about pants. In particular, red pants (red pants, blue pants, one pants, two pants).

Now I personally have nothing against the color red. But. But. As I'm sure everyone knows, denim fades. Dyed denim is no exception. So if you have red jeans and you wash them...won't they eventually turn blotchy pink, a la calamine lotion on chicken-poxed-skin?

Just a thought.

Also, there are some phrases that should never be taken literally. Like "scared shitless". I'm sure it could happen--if, say, you woke up one morning and you were dangling upside down over a pit of toothed giant slugs by your shoelaces, it would be pretty much forgiveable. But otherwise? It better just be a figure of speech, because ew.

Speaking of ew: starving people. Not like people starving people, but more like people reaching the point of starvation on their own. I understand why people suffer from eating disorders, but the truth is that if you watch those ridiculous beauty pageants on TV, the contestants are often appallingly thin. Not, oh wow, she's got great abs and no visible body fat. More like, oh look, I can count ALL OF HER RIBS. And clearly, many have had...enhancements. When you lose weight, I'm pretty sure that the fat from your chest area goes too.

But enough on that topic, because it's kind of making me want to brain-vomit.

Let's talk for a minute about how glad I am to not feel all cotton-stuffed. Granted, my sinuses are still filled with unmentionable fluids, but at least my head doesn't feel all funny. I mean, honestly. There's a point at which the sane person just says screw it, I'm going back to bed to sleep it off. If I'd had any modicum of sense, I'd have done the same. I just have this weird compulsion to work through illnesses. I'm guessing it's because I get sick ALL THE TIME. If I didn't go to school every time I caught a cold, I would quite possibly miss enough school to not graduate. Which would suck. Because I really don't want to graduate with this year's juniors. They are crazy and scare me.

On sci-fi and religion

I am feeling spiritual. Like, "Praise the Maker!" kind of spiritual.

Translation: I am feeling nerdy like whoa, and wish to ponder sci-fi for a minute.

See, if you're really, really nerdy, you'd understand when I explained how I was referencing two different sci-fi gods in that one quote. But you'd would have had to have read Dune and seen Episode IV recently.

But I digress. I was vaguely sort of interested in mumbling (virtually) about religions in sci-fi, and why they can't just, you know, offer peace and hope and shit. Instead, they've got to be half religion and half granter-of-mystical-power. I mean, belief in the Force is practically like believing in a high power, except no God that we've managed to come up with lets us choke people with our minds.

In the same way, the Bene Gesserit sisterhood is very much like a cult religion, but once again they're somehow granted mind-control power and also the ability to change their baby's sex in the womb. Or something. How else would one have the ability to choose which gender their child is? Sperm manipulation?

And the Fremen all but worship the giant sandworms, who bestow upon them the good drugs and hallucinogenic water that lets certain people gain the knowledge of all those other special people who came before them and drank successfully from the magical toxic water.

On the other hand, there's Star Trek, in which technology is the religion. Never mind about those backwater aliens. For those on the Enterprise, there appears to be very little belief in a higher power. I'm sure there's an interesting conclusion to be drawn from all this, but I'm not interested in drawing it. I just felt the need to post.

So I did. Obviously.