| WARNING: Writing With Brain Off |
[Apr. 29th, 2007|06:09 pm] |
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| |  blah | ] |
| [ | Music |
| | Mungo Jerry - In the Summertime | ] |
I'm in a funk. One reason why I know this to be true is the fact that I wanted to stop writing this post as soon as I had finished that first sentence. I don't know why this is happening. I used to love everything about writing in this journal -- heck, about writing at all! -- but recently I just haven't been in the mood. Add to this the fact that I have made a typo in every other word in this post so far, and I am one aggravated nitwit. Also, I hate to think that what I'm forcing myself to churn out is nothing but whining, especially since I don't think I have the right to be whiny. Only reason I'm even expressing this is because I feel the need to write something in this journal; just because I've lost my groove doesn't mean I don't still love my journal. I just feel less inclined to update it. A shame, really, since so much stuff has happened to me which I would have liked to have documented for future reading. Ah, well, I'll just have to bullet it. Back off, Mr. Chronological Order! I'm in no mood for your hijinx. This list will be random!
• I got a job! It's my first ever and, so far, I like it a lot. It's at a law firm and I get $10 an hour, plus my boss wants me to stick around "long-term" so is willing to work my schedule around school and, later, around college. Looks like I'm set for a while!
• I got baptized! You are now looking at a baptized, confirmed, and first-communion'd QueenGhid. Hooray! Although, true to form, I bungled my ceremony. I really don't understand why I can't have any experience without making a fool of myself (first time I ever went to church on my own, I had to race in and out of the men's room for some tissue paper). Not only did I stumble over my white dress (which took my mother and I ages to find), I nearly gagged on the communion wine after taking only a sip. I'm a prude! I don't drink! The stuff was like fire! And trust me, coughing and wheezing is not the best when in a quiet-as-a-mouse church. I also got candle wax all the heck over the pew in front of me. Whoops! At least I wasn't the only one making mistakes. My grandmother insisted that my mother take part in the ceremonies, but my poor mom was never at practice so she had no clue what to do. Technically, she's not even Catholic. When the priest asked if she was going to take communion, she said no and he gasped out loud. Ah, good times.
• I've lost my ScrapPad! Once again every piece of writing I had done on this computer has been taken from me. Gone! Deleted! Never to return! This time it was no virus -- it was my older brother. I had mentioned to him that the computer's memory was really acting up despite all the unnecessary files I have been deleting, so he came over and erased a bunch of his old files to make room. It helped, but he made one slight error: he erased all of my files as well! So, that means all my music/writing/images are completely kaput. Restoring them ain't gonna be easy, but I had fortunately learned my lesson from the last time and had saved a bunch of it on a disk. Alas, I was not in the habit of updating the disk each time I made a new addition and the loss is still a heavy one.
• I saw Eragon. Notice, no exclamation point this time. That movie was crazy! Nothing happened as it did in the book, and I don't mean in the way that movies usually don't.
I laughed at so many scenes that were not only crazy-wrong, but crazy-crazy, too! How did Saphira get so big, so fast? And what's with the "climatic" battle at the end? And why is Eragon such a prat? The only saving grace, strictly in my opinion, was that Jeremy Irons played Brom. Ah, Jeremy Irons. How I heart you. *adoring sigh*
Blargh, I have much else to write, but that accursed tedium of mine is settling in. What's wrong with me? It's getting increasingly worse, as is my memory and attitude. It could just be the fact that I have so little time to myself, what with school and work and all. I haven't been sleeping/eating well lately, either. Hmm...it's all starting to make sense now. To the fridge!
***EDIT***
Oh, and just to break this horrid period of inactivity, I present a drabble. It is an example of what my work looks like before I go over it a second time and is without any polish. It was made after reading a few of Aesop's stories during my funk (which leads me to hope that recovery is in the near future) and is now part of what I'm intending to make a series of called "Queenie's Fables". The final version will, of course, be fine-tuned once I manage to shed my listlessness. Hope you get a kick outta it, at least.
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Aesop's Fables: Aberrationally Speaking
I.
The Frogs Asking for a King
When Queen Ghidorah first decided to become a writer, she had already figured that it was in her best interest to start things off the right way. Instead of simply sitting and waiting for a random muse to follow her mental waves (a great attraction to the creatures) and risk a bad pairing, Queenie resolved to go out and request one personally from the Nine Heavenly Muses. Only these Mistresses of the Arts would know what type of partner would suit her needs exactly.
So, seating herself cross-legged on her livingroom floor, the pony-tailed brunette emptied her mind of all outside distractions (something which was easier said than done for the scatter-brained teen) and sought with her soul the illustrious Muse-Stream. A slight tickling sensation behind her eyes and a sudden sweet taste in her mouth were the only warnings she received before she felt herself tossed into the Stream, tumbling and crashing like a barrel down Niagra Falls.
When at last she came to a stop, sprawled flat on her back across a marbled floor, she was in the Realm of Higher Thinking and already the Nine were drifting toward her. They neither floated nor walked, these women, but instead seemed to waltz in slow-motion so at times their toes touched the floor and at others merely skimmed the surface.
Queenie sat up dizzily, hand to her swimming head, and watched as they paused a yard away. They seemed to be studying her where she sat, heads cocking first this way, then that as they whispered mysteriously to each other. After what seemed like ages of this bizarre scrutiny, eight of the Nine retreated until only one remained. This was Thalia, the Muse of Comedy, and her laughing nature seemed particularly amused by Queenie's entrance.
"What brings you here?" Thalia asked, one hand covering her mouth to hide her smile.
Queenie got shakily to her feet. "Please, Lady," she spoke as politely as she could, "I've come for a Muse to help me write, since I don't know where to get one who will suit me perfectly."
Thalia chuckled, shaking her head. "Careful what you mean by 'perfectly'," she cautioned in a tone that belied the seriousness of her warning. "You may not receive what you want."
"That is why I've come to you, to get your expert opinion," Queenie insisted.
Thalia pursed her lips thoughtfully. All at once she went completely still, right down to the sudden freezing of her once flowing hair. Her blue eyes had turned pure white and were glowing eerily, a sign that her mind was currently off on an errand. Sensing what this errand might be about, Queenie remained silent and waited for the Lady to come back.
The return of buoancy to her hair was the first sign that Thalia's mind was back. Blinking faintly, seeming surprised to find herself standing in the brightly lit hall with Queenie kneeling before her, Thalia gave her head a slight shake and smiled at the girl.
"Done," she chirped merrily. "Go home and you'll find him waiting."
With much display of graciousness, Queen Ghidorah leaped back into the Muse-Stream and was quickly ushered home in the same rough-and-tumble manner as before. When she was once again in her livingroom, she found she was not alone -- there, seated on her couch with a look of utter bewilderment, was an emerald green kremling wearing the golden crown of a king. Queenie instantly recognized him as being King K.Rool from the Donkey Kong games she played as a child. Thrilled, she immediately threw her arms around him and exclaimed over how much fun they would have together.
King K.Rool, knowing nothing at all about what was happening, pulled away from her and declared at the top of his voice that nothing would be done until he knew where he was and what he was doing there. Queenie at once offered an explanation -- in fact doing so three times before what she said was accepted -- and happily sat down at her computer with the intention of starting her writing.
There she sat in silence for some time before she realized that nothing was happening. Turning in confusion to her muse, she discovered him seated stiffly behind her, an expression of discomfort on his crocodilian features.
"What am I expected to do?" he asked after Queenie scolded his lack of action. "What does being a muse entail?"
Having no answer to this, and disappointed by his incompetence, Queenie instructed the kremling monarch to stay where he was while she made a second trip to the Realm of Higher Thinking.
After another ride through the Muse-Stream, Queen Ghidorah confronted Thalia and beseeched a new muse, stating that her current one was too idle and inexperienced to be of any help.
"Well, all brand-new muses are inexperienced," Thalia explained with a laugh. "But, very well, I'll get you another."
The Goddess again stood perfectly still as she searched for a replacement for K.Rool. After a much longer time than the last, she returned to the present and nodded to Queenie.
"Go on home and you will find your muse."
Elated, Queen Ghidorah thanked Thalia for her help and tumbled her way back to her apartment.
When she got there, she discovered her newest arrival standing before King K.Rool, heatedly demanding of the frightened kremling where he was. Queenie at once came to the rescue, latching onto the arm of her latest muse warmly. It had to be his arm -- the shell of King Bowser Koopa, for indeed that was who he was, was so riddled in spikes that any attempt to hug him from behind would have resulted in Queenie's death. As it was, his spiked wristbands nearly carved her a new belly-button.
Outraged at this unexpected "attack", Bowser roughly shook her off and roared the same question he had asked of K.Rool. Queenie likewise offered the answer she had given the kremling -- although Bowser needed her to repeat herself twice as many times before he accepted what he was hearing -- and planted her rear in front of her computer expectantly.
Bowser, unlike K.Rool, took a position beside her and stared at the blank computer screen much the same way she was doing. After five solid minutes of this, Queenie at last turned to him and asked what she should do. The Koopa shrugged and told her to do as she liked, so long as he was allowed to go home after she was done; whatever he could do to speed this process along, all she had to do was ask and he'd consider it.
Somehow aggravated by this passive action, Queenie excused herself and hurried back to the Realm of Higher Thinking, nearly cracking her skull open when she face-planted onto the marble tiles. Apparently, the ride grew shorter the more she traveled it.
By the time she managed to peel her face off the floor, Thalia was standing in front of her, looking rather put-out.
"Yes?" she asked curtly and without her usual cheer.
"Please," Queenie entreated, "Permit me another muse. K.Rool continues to do nothing, and Bowser is far too uncaring to be of any help."
Thalia blew a frustrated sigh through her bangs. "Fine," she snapped impatiently, "but this is the very last time!"
Immediately she went rigid, leaving Queenie to pick her teeth up from off the floor and try to fit them back into the empty slots in her gums. The girl had just gotten the first one replaced when Thalia returned quicker than expected.
"Go home, and he'll be there," she directed as usual, but this time there was a malicious glint in her eye and much of her humor had come back. Somewhat distrustful, but too eager to make use of this suspicion, Queen Ghidorah crashed home to see to her newest muse.
This trip through the Stream was the first that didn't end with a painful landing. In fact, it didn't end with a landing at all. Her livingroom, as became obvious the moment she entered it, had for some reason lost all sense of gravity. Her furniture floated haphazardly through the air, as did she and her failed muses. The two were shouting something at her from across the room, their cries blending into a senseless garbling.
"What?" she yelled back at them, flailing wildly for some idea of balance. "What happened?"
In flawless unison they both stopped yabbering and instead pointed at something behind her. Taking hold of the sofa drifting by her, Queenie pushed against it and used the propulsion to twist herself around to see what was being pointed out. To her horror, she was met by the sight of a giant golden dragon. It's three heads and easily recognizable wings were all she needed to know who this behemoth was: King Ghidorah, Godzilla's ultimate foe.
There would be no hugs for this demon, nor any writing done for Queenie, for the moment the dragon spotted his namesake, he let loose a cackling roar and dove at her with all three jaws.
Their jobs terminated the instant Ghidorah's fangs clipped together, all three royal muses were sent back home, to be called upon when a new writer needed their help.
King Ghidorah, in particular, was sure to come back; the dragon was a favorite of Thalia's whenever one of her charges became a nuisance...
Morale: When you seek to change your condition, be sure that you can better it.
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Now for some background info! In the official storyline, Queenie really did have to enter the Realm of Higher Thinking to get her muses, Thalia did actually become her Rep, and riding the Muse-Stream is just asking to have your head cracked open like a melon. Only difference in this fic is that Queenie had to actively go out and snag some muses and, obviously, K.G. didn't eat her. Or, to be more realistic, mutiliate her hideously in front of the other two. Good gravy! I just realized poor Bowser and K.Rool did see that! My babies! |
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beryl_and_groul's journal
feelin' like me
excited
uncomfortable
giddy
hopeful
Meh...
wonky and slightly critical
embarrassed
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