Tag Archives: happy

Time to Write Your Own Reality Check, Dear Storyteller.

13 Feb

Following someone else “Writing-Routine” isn’t going to magically fill the gaps in the story or book you’re writing.

Your experiences is what color your novel, and there’s a guarantee that no one in the world will understand your story better than you.

The answers to your problems, why it might seem unbearable to write because your writer’s block is so horrible, is in yourself.

You know what you’re going through.

If you’re anything like me, you’re great at giving other people advice. Your passion seems to be catching, and you have the habit of accidentally inspiring friends to take action while you’re talking of your own dreams. You seem to be able to inspire them, that it seems they are ruthlessly pursuing their passions. You seem to be able to talk down their dreams, to earth, to the possible plane.

You start to wonder, if you’re able to inspire people so well, to solve their own problems of self-esteem, or their “can’t-do-attitudes” why the hell are you so listless? Why are you so little motivated to move the mountains required to conquer your own dreams?

It’s you.

It’s your problem. Maybe it’s a fear of success, maybe it’s the fear or rejection, maybe it’s not fear at all, but your own complacency of failure. Instead of psychoanalyzing the people around you, seeing into their souls to see their problems… maybe it’s time for a little self-reflection.

After all, you’re the only person in the world who you can be sure is actually being honest with you, which makes great character fodder.

Look to yourself, Find out your fears, your creative blocks, and what you believe you can actually achieve and move from there.

As a writer, as a creator of worlds, you literally can shape mountains if you so please, so why in the hell are you not writing? Why in the hell can’t you finish that book? Why in the hell are you worrying so much about what happens after the book is completed rather than writing the book.

You’re a dreamer, all good storytellers are… I’m not saying deny your nature. Harvest it. If you can dream of the rewards of being an wonderfully illustrious writer… you can certainly dream up a book, with conflict, character motivation, and either a resolution or new beginning for an end.

You became, or decided you were a writer for a reason.

Maybe it was because you always enjoyed reading or being told stories as a little kid… maybe you found the nature of self-reflection calming. Maybe you wrote because you had to. It was a way to escape your little reality, and now you want to share it with the world.

Whatever your original reason was, you’ve certainly forgotten it. If you’re still looking at “successful” writers to solve your problems.

Figure it out, the you that you were, is most certainly apart of the you that you are now. The you that is having problems finding the passion, most certainly can take a page out of the book of the former you that wrote for hours, tirelessly.

Introduce the Passionate You, and the slightly-bitter-having-problems-finding-that-fire You, and let them affect each other. Let the one with their boots planted firm into the ground, reach and connect with the one in the clouds, and together allow them to make your story, the reason why you started writing, the story that you have been born to tell, rain down upon the world.

It’s that simple.

You’ve lost passion, right? Find it. You’re lost in your own story? Give yourself directions. You’re having problems with ending your story? End it, all good things come to an end, and I guarantee, that your story that’s changed you over the course of writing is good enough. Some things aren’t meant to be resolved and that’s the nature of the beast. Put a bandaid over it, and carry on.

Confession: I desperately want to act.

27 Jan Sunrise silhoutte

Shortly after in 3rd grade I was told that I was not going to be in the gifted program, because I talked too much. I was told that in the program, you could do whatever you wanted to, and got a zillion field trips… it broke my heart.

That moment became something that defined me, that has shaped my life in so many ways.

That’s when I became shy. I was afraid of talking too much. I was afraid that my mouth would screw me over, to the point, of no-return.

I guess that would make it, my first, real, original fear.

You see, I’ve always been fearless. Before I could properly walk, my Dad tells me, I was climbing and subsequently swinging from the cupboards in our kitchen. At 4 years old, I broke my neck, and heights… sort of became a problem. But I could deal, I just got a little vertigo, and then, I’d cope. Didn’t stop me from jumping off of our roof all the time, and at the neighbor’s house we’d jump out of the 2nd story window, onto a tramp at basement level.

At around 6, during a particularly high-stakes game of hide-and-go-seek, I resorted to hiding in the dryer, and my little sister started the dryer, and ran off. Claustrophobia, ensued after I had to kick out the door of the dryer to get out, and avoid getting more bruised and hot than bearable. But that only lead to some slight anxiety, when I feel trapped. Most people are anxious when trapped, it’s not a debilitating fear, and it didn’t stop me from napping in our linen closet on the shelves, in a less than 1×1 foot space.

After an encounter with a teenage boy at the not-at-all-ripe age of 3 or 4, my comfort in regards to anything of sexual nature was damaged.

At 10, as a renowned tomboy who could kick ass at any sport, and literally kick anyone’s ass, I lost my guy friends because girls became “icky” and were too weak suddenly to play with. Which lead to the ultimate distrust of the opposite gender, and consequently most people. (You have to realize, these were guys I had hung out with since I was 4, and had spent the majority of my life hanging out with them, who suddenly dropped me, due to what was under my shorts.)

At 7, when I wanted to be a ballerina, and my dad finally took me to sign up for a dance class, and we left without me being in a class because it was so goddamn expensive. I resorted to my much more achievable dream of being a rock star, and wrote a million songs, only to be told that my gift was in song-writing and not singing.

I watched movies, lots of inappropriately adult movies that a girl as impressionable as me, and willing should not have been exposed to. Which led me to confessing my love of our next-door neighbor Ben, at the age of 8, who I so did not actually. Which led us to kissing a lot because that’s what people in love in the movies did.

I determined that when I grow up I was going to own a Siberian Tiger when I grew up after a trip to the zoo at 4, when I learned that siber-toothed tigers had been extinct for a long time. (My first choice of a pet, prior.)

My dream of becoming a clothing designer was dashed when my best friend at 12 Nicole, was better at sketching designs.

My dream of being a vampire, also was dashed when I reached 13, and still had no evidence that any real vampires had ever been alive, ever.

My dream of being a stuntman, is still alive, but I know that it would freak out my Dad, considering how scared he is of me using my tax return money to buy a motorcycle.

A job as an Art Director, Casting Director, or Pyrotechnic Technician is incredibly hard to come by. In Filmstudies/Filmmaking, I quickly learned that being the director, was not exactly where I belonged… or at least not when my scaredy-cat friends refused to get behind the camera, and I had to be the talent in every movie we made, as well as direct.

After every single play I’ve been in, (including 2 different versions of A Christmas Carol, oddly enough when I hate Christmas, plus rehearsals for a Christmas Play during Halloween is lame) I’ve always been inconsolably depressed, after closing night. Not only because being on stage is exhilarating and fulfilling, but because I always miss the weird in-jokes that happen during a production while waiting in the wings. As well as the queer mischievous nature that comes while working in a completely empty theater that may or may not be haunted.

Being an Actor was my older sister’s dream. Being a singer was my younger sister’s dream. Being an artist, writer, was supposed to be my dream.

It is in ways. I will always love writing, and creating art… but it is a lonely, solitary business.

All of the things above, as well as my weirdo ability to completely memorize a movie after seeing it 2x, are factors in why I want to desperately be an actor.

Being an actor, combines so many of the things that I love in this world.

I’m a dreamer. I do want to try everything out in this world. A production, it’s magical, whether it’s film or stage, you get to create something breathtaking with weird milk-water rain, clever camera angles, waving a thing of sheet metal to create thunder and lightening. You get to tell stories (which if the above doesn’t tell you about my love of stories, I don’t know what does). You get to show real, raw truth by deceit, illusion, strings and pulleys.

I can’t say there’s anything that tells more about human nature, than people pretending to be living lives, that they don’t live, loving people they don’t love in that way, pretending to be people who they aren’t. Trying to resolve a neat little problem in 3 acts or less, all while trying to possibly fit it under an umbrella overlying theme about what it means to be human.

I love memorizing lines, I love pretending to be someone and experiencing things that I’ll probably never experience in my real life. I love that I get the chance to go into the woods to escape my mother (who isn’t actually my mother) who locked me away in a tower, and meet my brother who’s trying to help his wife conceive a child by finding a cow white as milk, a cape as red as blood, hair as yellow as corn,and a slipper as pure as gold.

It’s the stuff that dreams are made of. It’s what my dreams are made of.

I realized this last semester when I was working 50 hours a week, signed up for 18 credit hours, and still wanted to audition for my school’s production of a space-age version of Romeo and Juliet (I was hoping for the part of Mercutio, because he’s the only one I liked.), and was heartbroken when I was too busy to do it.

I miss acting. Like writing, it’s an outlet, it’s a dream, and just a little unrealistic. But good things happen. It makes me happy, no matter what little parts I get. I want to do it. Plus, I seem to be pretty good at it.

I haven’t told anyone, the extent of how much I want to strike out in California and join a wonderful community of artists, and creative types… but right now, I don’t see many other options in my dream future.  For someone who has a pretty hard times limiting their options. That’s a pretty freaking big deal.

I’m out of my head…

13 Sep

I have no idea where I’m going in my life. As I can consider myself (at least slightly) Bohemian. There’s nothing wrong with that, in fact, in many ways that’s where I want to be. I don’t want to plan things out anymore… I don’t want to plan out my life and be disappointed when things don’t turn out the way I envisioned them.

Fact of the matter is: plans fall through. Almost anything that I’ve planned out a week in advance hasn’t happened. Anything I plan out 30 minutes prior to actually doing it, does. So why should I plan out my life? What college I’m going to, what my major is, what my profession will be, if I’m going to get married, if I’ll have kids, if I’ll be a skank who makes any lucky son of gun who gets me for a night wear a condom? There’s too many unknowns in life to plan.

I don’t know what’s going to happen in the 12 hours before I go to sleep…. We could be hit by a tornado and be homeless by then. People change their views, their opinions, their selves all based on what happens to them. I don’t know the future me, and I don’t know if that ‘me’ is going to appreciate any choices I make for her, now… I know who I want to be. So far, I just haven’t been that. So far, everything I’ve planned out seems to go to pieces. Even when it comes down to myself.

You think I wanted to grow-up to be a cynical, pessimist that is too afraid to share her opinion, because she’s afraid that when people disagree (and they will) it will start a fight… and then she’ll turn into something that she can’t control?

Naw, I wanted to be somebody that people would listen to, I wanted to be the line between right and wrong, a guiding star. I wanted to be someone that actually matters in this world.

I chose the rule of invisible myself. I chose for all the kids in my school to not even notice me, so they couldn’t get in the way of my life. I’ve also trapped myself into this role. Maybe, after graduation, I’ll move somewhere… where nobody knows me, and I can be my literal self, and maybe I’ll even go to my high school reunions, and people may not even have an idea who I am, or maybe they will, and they’ll think, ‘she’s changed.’ The fact would be, I haven’t, not one bit.

School is either chilling out now, or I’m getting used to it, whichever. Either way, it’s not as hard as it was last week. I feel better about it. However, I can feel myself blinking onto everyone’s radar. I don’t know how I feel about that. In one way I’m happy because then everyone will know what kind of person I really am.

In another way, I love being anonymous, in the crowd just enough to know what’s going on, but apart enough that I can observe without bias. I think I might be sad to know that I won’t have it again, here. People remember you, you can’t change fact, once you’re noticed, there’s no going back. You just exist. You become known, and all those little things that you used to get away with, are spread and heard and seen. There goes your anonymity, with it, your freedom. Not that it was ever that free, not that you’ll be less free with your discovery, it’s just which freedoms are important to you?

I don’t know, I’m in a philosophical mood, it might be the storm that’s coming… it might be that I haven’t worked on my book since school started… it might be that I haven’t eaten anything yet. Who knows? I still feel it’s important to go into your life… and move a few things around, see if your perspective changes with it.

I feel alone in anonymity, alone in my unplanned life… alone in all my views… singular. Like there’s only one of me. Uniqueness and Singularity are worlds apart. One, you’re in common with at least something, part of something… with Singularity, it’s just you. Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes it’s a bad thing.

I’m not saying I’m depressed or lonely or anything… just alone. It feels nice right now… and yet, I wish I did have a future that I believe I can just map out… like my peers…. I wish I could have that undeniable optimism that for once, things were going to go my way. I can’t.

I’ve lost my expectations to many things in life, with each major, life-changing event… I’ve lost 3, 4 sometimes… Now I have none. It’s weird to not expect anything, no loss…. yet an emptiness lingers.

If I were going to write about someone without a soul, I think that last paragraph is the closest you could get to it.

Well, good night fellas… sleep tight, plan well.
Truly,
♥Aspiringtobesomeone

Fighting for viable Dreams

5 Aug

I realized something today… just when I was finished a reading session with ‘The things they carried by Tim O’brien’. I really care about quite a variaty of things… acting is the door that led me into this brainwave. As you probably well know by now, I’m trying to be a writer. It’s important to me. Literature is important to me… I know that even if I never make it as a writer… I’ll still write… I’ll have to. The lose and regainment of Vinsin made me realize this.

But, I’m also an actor. I’ve been seriously in love with acting since at most the age of 7. I conciously recognized this love when my older brother was in his 6th grade play. I wanted to own the stage… I was going to learn how to dance, sing, and act. (However, I didn’t know you could do all three at a the same sime)  I’m an actor… no doubts about it. It’s deep within myself… and I doubt it’s really something that I’ll ever get rid of.

This morning, I went babysitting… the kids I babysit are nice and it was real fun. I even took pictures because I felt like it. They ate it up… I sent their mother an email of the pictures… she deserves a copy of every picture that exists of them… she’s super swell too.
I come back and my brother yells that I got 3 phonecalls while I was gone. 2 of them turned out to be related to my friend. One was to call and warn me that this acting thing was going to call because she gave them my number… the other was the acting place calling. The third was my best friend.

After talking to her, I was alright with it… than I realized she said the audition was tomorrow. I got oddly excited and I was planning on calling them until she mentioned that they need my parents permission to audition… (I’m aware that some of these are scams… which is why I researched them on the net before doing anything.)

So I mention it to my pops and he falls asleep… must have had a hard day at work. I let it slide… he’s been doing overtime… and besides he’ll have to wake up before tomorrow. I get bored… I want to run around… when it starts raining what I call a hurricane (but in reality… probably isn’t considering that we live in a land-locked desert) So we shut all power off, just in case if the lightning decides to hit our house. So I’m stuck… no phone… asleep Dad. So I read.

I read with the curtains open to let in any light and spot a branch that literally flies off of a tree… So We can’t even go outside…. I love running around in the rain. But when everyone thinks it’s okay to turn the power back on… I decide to take a break… (War books either piss me off or get me emotional.. either way it’s not good to at least pause to let it soak it.)

Then I think excitedly, “I bet I can learn an accent before the audition tomorrow!” (I have a horrendously fast learning curve… it’s weird stuff… especially if I’m actually into the stuff I’m doing.) Than I start to thinking about how I was fine with giving up Play Productions… and Improv… for the most part and realize that the only way I was able to deal with said loss, was lying to myself and saying that I couldn’t act.

(Which sounds cocky… the lying part… except that I really can act… it’s something that I discovered a few days ago when I was bored and started to silently recite an old monologue I still had memorized (you never know when you’ll need one!) while filming it on my camera… needless to say… you could tell what part I was at by my expressions… I never thought that I had this ability! It really surprised me… and I know that my voice is very accurate to whatever emotions I’m supposed to be feeling… I think it’s partly the empathetic part of me… because I can empathize with the characters’ emotions…. same thing happens when I’m writing… which is probably why people say my characters are very, very much alive)

But anyways… this made me realize that I’d be a pretty good actor… and another dream lives again! I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it to this audition or even if I’ll get in…. but I’m not nervous about it at all…. if I’m meant to make it… I will… Besides… I’m much more confident than I was in 8th ; ).

I realize that my dreams are what I really care the most about. I really care about being able to do anything I put my mind to. Which anyone can, If they really set themselves out to do it… maybe it won’t work out the first 100 times you try… but eventually you’ll get it. Which is probably why I always fight against any form of opression that is an injustice. Just Naturally Opression, Injustice and Me don’t get along… I’ll fight against any Injustice that happens to me, or someone close to me… I can’t pick my fights if injustice is involved… maybe it’s a flaw… maybe it’s a good thing…

But yeah, I care a ridiculous amount about paths that I’ll never take. I guess it’s important.. because maybe someday… my fight will help someone that wanted to take that path… but couldn’t.

Nice talking to you sweet kids
Yours Truly
♥Aspiringtobesomeone

Back from the dead and better for it!

4 Aug

So the past few days have been horrendously stressful compared to what was before.

There’s a really good reason. I hadn’t backed up my novel on my computer since the 13,000 word mark and the computer crashed. (which has happened to me before… the only difference being… I was only like 3,000 words into it. So I really knew to back it up…. but I didn’t it).

To be frank, I was depressed…. all those 8 months of work… when I felt like I wasn’t just wasting my life was gone. Which actually meant I did waste all that time. My Dad felt really bad about… mostly I think because I came into his room tears streaming down my face and asked him where the set-up disk was… hoping I could boot safe mode from disk.

We’ve been having an effing-crazy virus that would pop up every 20 minutes and say that we had a virus and that we needed to take care of that… I’ve found random programs that have weeded their way into our system and hunted down every single one of them and rid ourselves of them. I couldn’t find this one… my dad believes it was in the browsing history… that my younger sister didn’t even know you were supposed to clear out…

Surprisingly enough, our computer didn’t die because of viruses…. it died because the harddrive was full… and couldn’t run because of it. The harddrive was full because my family has recently started using hulu a lot. Hulu saves the entire movie to your harddrive somewhere…. my little sister had been watching the O.C. for a couple days then… I think she was on the second season when it happened… we only have a 40 GB harddrive in the laptop… which is pretty good considering that it’s like 10 years old. I was never worried about it overfilling mostly because our main computer was a 20 GB for a couple years and we had never filled it.

But anyways… the sucker would not even load up safe mode…. and I admit I cried at the lost of basically my whole novel and the 8 months wasted.

My dad, who used to fix computers as a living started in on it. I didn’t watch because I didn’t want get my hopes up or put pressure on him…. I believe he must have worked on it for at least 4 hours… the poor guy… seemed like he wasting all of his time… until linux started up. Through Linux (which will run by C.D.) we were able to access all of the files and back them up. 

My Book was an astounding 119 kb in a .txt file which my Dad said was the biggest he’d seen and was really worried that it was too big to have the computer extract it. But it worked out! The Novel is now on a flash drive and on my Dad’s other computer.

I almost think that this whole thing… thinking the book was gone for 2 days was meant to motivate me this whole time….. Can I just say that I’m so glad that I didn’t blog about this while I was in Mourning for my book?

My Dad literally is a witch doctor of computers…. he did crazy voodoo and resurrected a surly dead laptop. I had never witnessed him fixing a computer first hand… especially when it was so important to the person that wanted it fixed.

Well, I’m over and out! Good luck, Good weather and Good Day
♥Aspiringtobesomeone

Fitting into a mold isn’t for me.

23 Jul

So Today I’m going to get my haircut… I’m nervous… mostly because it’s at the community college (Woo! Support people who know what they want to do!). But also, I’m not exactly sure what I want… I have pictures that are similar to what I want but anyways… I found them on the internet and the printer’s broThis is what I wantken.

Tomorrow we’re going to dye our hair… and honestly I don’t care what my Dad says about Green Streaks… I’m doing them. I know that’s a jerk statement… but he’ll be okay after we’re done with it. I’m doing it nice and short (mostly so it’s easy to manage). I look good with short hair, my hair for some reason is less frizzy when I have short hair… it’s weird.

I’m excited about it… I just hope my older sister will them what I want… last time, I wanted about the same thing and what I got was a very short plain a-line. Which wasn’t too bad… but honestly I hate a-lines…

I’m just so very excited. Although I act mature, and most of my friends see me as a tomboy… I love hair, I love having a french manicure (Done by myself of course! It’s not worth it to pay someone to do it everytime..).

I love dressing up, and I love what you can do with make-up. I Honestly, hold a lot back mostly to protect me from the preppy girls. I used to be one of them… (a couple years ago… but after my parents’ divorce and we moved I decided I was sick of the work to be in them)

I’m glad that I’ve stopped that course in it’s tracks… but as much as my friends don’t realize… I enjoy being dolled up. I like being dressed different to the point that I’m mostly unrecognisable. I enjoy the fact that most people freak out if you disobey the laws of your social class…

I love showing up to school in a baggy T-shirt, Large Jacket, and PJ bottoms one day and the next showing up completely girly… make-up, jewelry and the whole bit… and the after… I might dress up as a punk. I think it’s funny.

I’ve been all of these people before and I understand how to pull it all off… it looks legit.. because it is legit… Those parts of me have never left and the sooner people realize that… the sooner I’ll be able to be understood.

I guess I just don’t like fitting into any one mold… I think it’s funny to fit a mold perfectly one day and the next just different. I chose this haircut because of all the different easy ways I’ll be able to style it so it fits who I want to be that day.

I don’t know.. I’m just your average girl…. although I don’t mind mud.

Yours Truly
-Aspiringtobesomeone

Inevitable Success

1 Jul

Sometimes at the end of the day, the only success you’ve had is that there weren’t any successes.

Most of the time, this in itself is a success itself. When you look out there in the world… there are definitely a lot of possibilities. A daily success can be measured in many ways.

You could consider a day, a success if you literally stop to smell the roses. I do this twice, everyday. Once on my way out of my house and again on the way back. Going among the same lines a day could be considered a success simply because you saw the sunrise and set. There are few places where you can’t do these same things. If you can’t, you can always find some alternatives… instead of roses, it could be the hot smell of asphalt and tar in the summer, the nice smell of mud after the rain, the smell of getting out of the shower.

Maybe it’s not a smell at all, but a nice reassurance that everything is intact, perhaps that the ratty old teddy bear that your grandparents rushed to the store to buy at the occasion of your birth, before meeting you for the first time at the hospital. Maybe it’s saying goodbye to the moon every night before you go to bed, and being memorized by the stars or by the clouds that will hang overcast in their place.

Maybe you don’t consider these everyday things successes.

Maybe it’s not considered a successful or eventful day if you don’t see that boy you like at school, or you happened to forget an important homework assignment. Maybe you don’t consider it a good day, if someone neglects to tell you that they love you, or to otherwise pamper your ego.

What if at the end of everyday you could feel peace instead of fretting about how on earth you’ll be able to write a book report assignment before school, or have enough gas to drive to work when you’re on your last dollar for the next week. Maybe you’re afraid that your deity of choice is going to strike you down from the heavens because you said something particularly blasphemous or did something particularly sinful.

I’ll let you in on a little secret: No matter how you might have failed by the end of the day, however many mistakes you made today….today will still end… tomorrow you will have another shot at perfection and bliss.

So you go to bed quiet, blissful, and happy because you know that tomorrow will come and nothing can stop it.