on writing

I’m trying to get a little bit of *actual* writing done and so far it isn’t really going well at all. Trying to write something creative feels so… ugh. hard now. Like…. I killed my writing soul with novels and novels worth of commercial words. I dunno, it kinda feels that way… but I also haven’t put a ton of time or effort into it I guess. Literally every time I talk to my dad he bugs me about writing a book. He thinks if I churn out a fucking romance novel it’s going to magically make a ton of money or some shit. I swear, my parents are like 300% more naive and …. hopeful than I am. So it’s like that basically. And since I don’t have any fucking paying work to do right now, I figure I might as well give it a try. I have basically the whole story mapped out I just have to …. actually write the fucking thing. Which is weirdly harder than I remember it being. I dunno. I totally hate romance novels and I’m just questioning every word choice every everything instead of just doing it and getting it done. Buuuut, if I have some fucking chunk of a novel to show for my no-work time, it will be something I guess. Plus, my dad will be less pissed / disappointed if I have to ask for money next month. (I really fucking hope I’ll get some paying work soon and I won’t have to, but as things stand now I’ve got fucking $0.00 lined up for next month. soooo… yeah. we’ll see I guess.) I should get an actual stable job probably. a 9 to fucking 5. I have like… $1,000 right now that I earned, but it’s all gone. It’s all fucking ghosted. $600 for rent and $200 for other bills and also I have to fucking eat I guess. (my body currently is telling me that I definitely do.) aaaaanyway, really got off track right there. My main point is that I’m trying to work on an extra-curricular writing project and the fraud police are breathing down my neck, and why did I use the word “he” so many fucking times in that paragraph? Should I have said his name more? Or is that too many times already? How do people actually talk to eachother? Do I need to give more of a back story and / or name of this character that’s going to be in the story for literally 35 seconds and then never again?  Yeah. okay. Whatever. I’m going to attempt to get at least something down. Peace.

en TITLE d

ha Fuck I feel depressed right now. Tired as fuck, doing a bunch of work that I won’t even get paid for for a fucking month. But still, I fucking have to. I fucking have to, and also hope against hope against hope that my client without a huge fucking delay gives me some more work this month, like… soon this month. I have half of my rent money sorted but that’s just half yo. I just paid 3 fucking credit card bills and that was like $100 lolololololololololololololol that means I probably have like… not nearly enough money left in my account, that’s how much. I want / (need to if I’m actually going to be serious about it ) to get myself pads and a helmet and that’s more money and I’m just feeling pretty dejected right now I guess, maybe because it’s 1am and I still have a **minimum** of four hours of work left to do, probably a bit more. I really hope that this client loads another bigger batch after this one. That would be … ideal. That would make me feel a whole fucking lot better. I should get a real job with a reliable paycheck. But like… doing what? I dunno, but I do know that this shit is growing thin. This constant unreliable income and the stress it brings is wearing really fucking thin. I kinda wanna punch that dude at jury duty in the face who fucking laughed when he overheard me telling someone that I lived where I lived because of how cheap it was. “Only $600 a month” I said and he fucking laughed “ha, that’s like more than my mortgage cost.” And I’m like yeah, you old ass motherfucker, I fucking know that. Thanks for tanking the economy and the housing market you baby booming piece of shit. Aaaaaanyhoo… Let’s take a positivity breath, because I feel like I’m about to burst into tears suddenly. *thumbs up emoji thumbs up emoji* The other night when I was riding in the car with my mom she said “I told dad that next year for the holidays all we’re going to get for you kids is stuff for your houses.” Like… fuck. I would love so very fucking deeply to have an actual house by next year. My mom is trying really hard to make that happen for my brother and I, and fuck man… I would love that so much. I would love that so so so much. -deep breaths- Okay, I need to get the fuck back to work now. I might return sporadically because doing this helps keep me sane while I’m working for some reason. Like… why is more typing making you feel better about all the typing you have to do? I don’t know dude. I don’t know. Fuck.

8 done, 7 to go. I forgot I also had jury duty this morning lolololol. It was comparatively not too bad, everyone was relatively chill I guess? and I brought in biscochitos  which everyone seemed to like, so that was cool. There were like 6 alternates it was weird. Still, no one gave me too much trouble, even the one alternate lady who seemed hell bent on trying to add extra charges to everyone. Like… dude… lady… chill. She was dressed all business non-casual too, like… dude… lady…chill.

9 done 6 to go. The same desperate, heart jolting feelings as I had as a teenager, but softened somehow by the horror of time. And time is all it takes. time is all it takes. Time is all it takes. Time is all it takes. Time is all it takes. **finger guns** let’s drink more fucking coffee!

10 down 5 to go. Can I actually do all of these before I pass the fuck out? Or would it be better if I like… try and take a hyperquick nap and then finish? can I even do that before they time out? I don’t fucking know. I probably shouldn’t do that tho. I should finish all fucking 5 of them and then queue up 5 more and then sleep and then queue up 5 more when I get up , so I can finish them all before they expire. I can’t cheat anymore and re-claim them because the client said they would take people off the project for doing that and I can’t afford to be taken off the project no fucking way.

11 to 4. Seriously, can I really do all these? Or is it too much? fuck, I dunno. I know I’m tired as fuck. I know my eyes hurt and my soul hurts and my brain hurts. My poor brain. Not enough sleep last night or the night before or tonight or tomorrow night. ~10 minute crying break~ *thumbs up emoji thumbs up emoji* back to work

12 to 3. It still feels like so much. Should I just let these go and pick different ones and pick back up after a few hours sleep? Or should I push the fuck through and do one more or two (or three)?  This is difficult. * skull emoji sleeping zzz guy emoji ghost emoji ghost emoji * Oh shit, so check this out, I just started writing two of them at once in two separate windows, and I’m gunna try switching back and forth between them, and fucking fight me yo.

14 to 1. That actually worked pretty well, doing two at once. I was a little worried that I might get them all mixed up in my head and fuck it up, but that didn’t happen. I dunno if it was really any faster than doing them individually?? but I think it might have been, and if nothing else it felt better for my brain I think. Sooo… one more to my goal. fuck. Right now I’m tied for *most in one day ever* and if I do one more I’ll have set a new goal and also made $300 in one day (assuming all of these make it past the editor okay, *knock on wood*)

15 to 0. Holy shit, I fucking did it. FUck, I really hope these all get accepted. I’m feeling pretty paranoid about it, but… at this point all I can do is wait and see. dude. wow. I just realized that in like 20 minutes it will have been 24 hours since I woke up for jury duty… and besides like an hour long nap I will have been awake that whole time. so… like… uuuh…. that’s funnnn. Okay, yeah. I’m going to go grab 5 more guides for my queue, and then I’m going to grab a few hours of sleep. peace.


bags of 5 cent goldfish

Besides my usual anxiety about money and work and stuff, so far I feel better today than I have in a little minute. My brother and I just had our second official rehearsal for our live show that is happening in 21 days. It went really well, and we’ve pretty much got one of the 3 songs we’re doing live down. You guys can listen to it if you’re curious. (no seriously… you should listen to it)

It’s a cute, upbeat little ukulele song about having fun, and drinking, and setting fish free, and my fear of being trapped in my corpse after I die, and getting buried and still being trapped in my corpse in my coffin and being aware of my own body’s slow decomposition! It’s a lot of fun. You guys should listen to it.

Let’s see… what else? I guess that’s all I really want to say on here right now. I’m going to go row, and then shower, and that’s basically the extent of my plans for the moment. I haven’t used my rowing machine in like… almost two weeks? I’ve been going to the gym all the freaking time instead, which is cool, but I’ve kinda missed rowing and right now seems like a good time to go for it. yeah. cool. okay. bye.

Receipt fire

I am the master of all wedding venues. I have supreme knowledge pertaining to catering services and how many people can be seated in a room depending on its square footage and whether or not they want a dance floor. Behold my awesome power! For I can describe the same 8 amenities in dozens of different ways! But seriously… But seriously… I’m sick to death of this project, and I think it’s almost over… which is cool in a way but also sucks money wise. I hope they have something else afterward… but who fucking knows. I really don’t know. I guess I should try to contact someone about my grad school application since I still haven’t heard anything and I don’t know what the hell to do and I’ve secretly resigned myself to not getting in but I would really like to know for sure what the deal is. What’s my plan B? … No freakin’ clue bro. I feel stressed to death about a bunch of different shit honestly, but I’m trying to be chill about it. haha. yeah. nice. yeah. I really need to get my insurance application together. Fuck. My friend asked me to review his comic book script for him like over a week ago but I just haven’t gotten around to it at all, and I feel kinda guilty and like a shitty friend dick for taking so long, even though he said no hurry. ugh. Have to pay rent tomorrow, it is the day of reckoning money wise. My guts feel tight and knotted up… and not just because of that off brand pizza lunchable I just ate for dinner. Good thing pizza is a vegetable, am I right? So far I’ve been pretty successful with my quiet goal that I’m not gunna talk about on here. It feels agonizingly slow but I know it’s not really. I’m starting to be able to see it and feel it a bit. It feels nice. It requires CONSTANT VIGILANCE. But that’s okay. I should be living my life vigilantly anyway. I need to go get back to work, so I’m going to do that. Peace.

************** a number of hours later *************

Haha! here I am! I’m feeling pretty jacked on coffee still and I feel like typing more except not typing fucking wedding guide shits I want to type some type of stuff for myself. Like whatever, just to do some fucking thing you know? Just to do something different. I churned out another one and I would like to do two more before I do the sleep thing. Before I do I do I do the sleep thing. yeah. yeah. yeah. cool. That’ll bring me up to a total of 9 today, and a total of 57 all in. fifty-fucking-seven goddamn wedding venue write ups. How many words is that? how many is 500 X 57? *calculator go!*  haha it’s 28,500 words. That’s like more than halfway to a fucking novel’s worth of words in two goddamn weeks. MORE THAN HALF A NOVEL’S WORTH OF FUCKING DESCRIPTIONS OF WEDDING VENUES. WHAT? IS? MY? LIFE? EVEN?? Too bad it’s not that many words into an actual fucking novel… and instead it’s this thing that’s happening. By the time I’m done tomorrow it’s gunna be 60… or approximately 30,000 words. haha. What even? How did I write so many of these fucking things? How did I even do that?? Good job brain, you’re some kind of trooper. Some kind of sweet sweet thinking friend.

Tiny fire tiny fire. Though I may not be expecting those desires to be met, I’m happy that you’ve come home to burn inside my chest. It makes me feel more like myself, lit from within, warmer and more alive. I don’t even feel you gutter when you go,  just a coldness and “hey, what’s wrong?” “I don’t know.” Until once more you spark and smolder and I whisper “oh, oh.”