Evolution of the Novel, Vol. 1

I think I'm writing a book.

I say "I think," because I'm not quite sure that the mounds of scrap paper with clever one-liners, twenty-four word processing files with beginnings of chapters, and six hours of minidisc recordings of me talking in goofy British accents actually amount to a book. Eventually, it might. Hence, "I think I'm writing a book." Right now, it's all a collection of jumbled short stories in the life of a fictional character who's a bit more of me than I'd like to admit, but in time, it could be equivalent to my life's work, as silly as that sounds.

What gives me hope is the fact that the basic premise of the book hasn't changed in the approximately three years since I've been scribbling 21st century proverbs into half-used notebooks. I even have a title -- ironically, "Work in Progress" -- and a set of characters which have been basically unaltered. Everything else, unfortunately, is in constant flux; the motivations behind certain characters' actions, secondary characters that flesh out the main ones, narrative style, novel structure -- these things have been changing constantly to the point where I feel very tempted to burn the paper scraps, delete the .doc files, and wipe the minidiscs so I can start all over again.

Actually, I won't go that far. But I am starting over again. Wish me luck.

Hello, from School Mode

First off, I'd like to say to my friend the Shoestring Traveler that, no, I haven't been ignoring you. I've been working 30 hours a week and going to school, so anything I used to regard as "free time" has been passing me by for the last month or so. But I would very much love to walk your bike path (which isn't nearly as dirty as it sounds) and have a nice chat. We'll totally have to do that sometime.

And, for the aforementioned reason, this post is but an intermediary, "hey, I'm not dead" post. The first four weeks of my summer classes (I still have to take my 2nd year German class and finish an online Polysci course in the next four weeks) were a rude awakening for someone who hadn't been this involved in "academic" (read: not music) classes since probably high school, some, god, seven years ago now. But still, I did about as close to flourishing as I could have, given the circumstances. My Samurai in Film class, a great course but unfortunately second on my list of priorities, was more representative of what I expected all my classes to be; my laziness got the better of me, so I missed a few classes, and some mild cramming for the final enabled me to get my (I think) well deserved B in the class. Indian history was another story. That class now represents to me what I could be -- I learned, I participated, I did all the assigned readings (something which I'm not sure anyone in the class can boast), and I walked away triumphant. I'm glad that class came when it did, for now I have new confidence in my decision to pursue history, which is good.

So, all in all, I'm still in School mode. I'm learning, and I'm liking to learn. So don't be offended, all five of you who may or may not read this blog, if I'm scarce for the next month or so -- but not to worry, I have several topics to opine on, just not right now.

And if you'll excuse me, I have to go find my wallet.

Of Walks and Change, Part 2

Read Part 1 before coming to this narrative. I'm not sure it matters much, but I couldn't bear it if my three followers read things out of order.

Of Walks and Change, Part 1

People don't change. They evolve.

Sure, we might superficially alter our current interests, opinions, physical appearance, and attitudes toward others, among other things, but who we are as people -- the stuff we're made of, as it were -- remains the same. The longer you think about it, the more you'll realize that I'm correct in this. Alcoholics are a commonly cited example; it doesn't matter if someone hasn't had a drink in ten minutes or ten years, if he has the genetic disposition and the characteristic mindset where alcohol is concerned, he is an alcoholic. Likewise, as a more mundane example, someone who despises, say, broccoli, won't ever really "like" broccoli, no matter how often his parents made him eat it. Our circumstances change, as do our motivations -- and, for that matter, our motivators. Our selves have not changed. If this depresses you, I'm sorry. Join the club.

An Ode to the Match Game (or, Where Have All The Game Shows Gone?)

I was not raised like most kids of my generation. According to my mother, I taught myself to read by scanning through newspapers and picking out stories that interested me. There are home movies of me at age 4, inside my bedroom, pointing at posters on my wall of Neil Armstrong and Abe Lincoln, and reciting facts and dates like I was some sort of damned history professor or something. In first grade, Mom and I thought it would be "fun" for me to memorize Lincoln's Gettysburg Address and recite it in front of my classmates. I'm not saying this stuff to tell you how smart I am -- if I were actually as smart as all that, I wouldn't be a 25-year-old Wal-Mart cashier still working on her undergraduate degree. I'm saying this stuff because, looking back, it's a wonder that I have things like friends or social skills.

Welcome to the blog world, me!

Well, I guess it's time I'd graduated from the MySpaces, Facebooks, and Twitters of the world, and leaped headlong into the world of the blog -- or the "realsies blog," if you prefer. Hopefully, on a semi-regular basis, I'll be writing some deep thoughts, not-so-deep thoughts, and perhaps some exerpts from some writings or other random witicisms. I say hopefully, because I know that, as I write this, a few immediate roadblocks come to mind: