Tag Archives: needs

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.

Good always Triumphs Over Evil

7 Jan

So I got to talk about some crap, because it might make me feel a little less angry….

 

I was one of those children that came from an abusive home. The abuser happened to be my mother. Sadly enough, any major issue with a life event can be traced directly to her.

My weird inability to accept imperfections came from her telling me to scrub for hours.  My hatred and distrustfulness of new people  stems from her screwing me over and then, proving it again by my dad being desperate enough to marry another crazy woman (who luckily is mostly out of the picture now…)

My poverty, the reason in me being a semester late in college was caused by her, stealing my childhood home from my father the breadwinner and the only one with a job. My belief that hospitals are basically obsolete stem from staying too long in them… from her hypochondriac ways.

She’s screwed over my entire family and ripped me from many of the people I care about.

She’s literally, clinically insane. She has quite a few problems with her, and from the moment that my father tried to get her help, she’s been plotting how she would ruin his life.

She has.

Amazingly enough, my Dad has the ability to brush it off and pretend like he’s got a shot at retiring.

Her contribution to my collection of emotional scars has been unprecedented. Ranging from my brother being whipped, for stopping her from nearly killing me, to causing us to basically starve for a couple weeks.

There isn’t a person that deserves to be killed more than her, in my eyes.

My fear of being published (Which is a terrible fear for one who means to be a writer) comes from her trying to track me down and hitch a ride on a rode to fame… taking credit for raising me.

I’ve sworn to myself that if it ever happened, I’d smear her name so horribly that her remaining loved ones couldn’t look her in the eye, let alone strangers.

She’s found me on almost every site I’ve joined. I’ve had to block out things, lie about things to try and hide from her. If anything happens to make my family’s presence known… like a wedding, or a visit from someone on her side of the family… she comes. She has her new husband spy on the house and take pictures and messages or calls us nonstop. Calling my Dad names so awful that only she’s so evil to say such things about such a good man.

My grandma had to get a restraining order because she tried to knock her car off the road.

I don’t want to see this woman in my life, or connected in anyway. I avoid seeing her, not because I’m afraid, but because I don’t want to do jail time.

She deserves jail time at the very least for what she’s done to us. Unfortunately because children don’t have a voice in the U.S. she’ll never do any time.

There’s a reason why I’ll never let my voice go unheard.

She sent my little sister a message, through someone else’s profile and I plan on making sure she learns not to come into contact with us, ever again.

She cannot harm us any longer.

-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

Life Could Be Yours.

15 Jul

Okay, so I’ve been busy… but I just feel like telling you guys about the beautiful things in life…. like the truly beautiful things in life.

I’ve recently started babysitting (mostly because I can’t find a job and I need some sort of money) and I realized something amazing about kids… they really think that you can do anything… they have this belief that once they’re your age… that they can do anything! The fact of the matter is: You can. You really can.

Somewhere in the middle of growing up, you lose that idealist attitude… suddenly the world becomes concrete with certain rules and expectations that no one can break. Think about everything that you’ve ever wanted, maybe you wanted a pony when you were little… maybe you wanted to fly… whatever. The reality is, possibilities are only limited to your imagination! Where there’s a will, there’s a way. You could have that pony right now if you wanted it… you could find a nice alternative to flying… say, skydiving or maybe you could be an astronaut to actually feel what it’s like to literally fly with nothing stopping you… not gravity, nothing.

I’ve been talking to my older sister lately, and what’s sad, what is truly sad is right now… this part of her, the part that was literally her personality while growing up is dead. She doesn’t believe in any possibilities anymore… She’s told me that she’s up against a brick wall…

I’ll tell you basically the situation. She’s had 3 cars… First One: transmission broke, Second One: some jerk smashed into it on the highway maybe a week after she got it, and the Third One: it’s been running for a few weeks… been working perfectly…. than it starts shaking and now it’s transmission has gone out. She has a loan on this sucker and has to keep up on her car payments and her liability insurance and save up to either get it fixed or get a new car.  Which I admit: Sucks. I feel for her, I really do. She’s working part-time, 2 10 hour shifts a week… so she’ll be able to get another job to save up for college and all those things. She can’t find anything… no one I know can find anything… I’ve been looking for a job myself. So have a couple good buddies of mine….

Basically even at the crappy minimum wage (jobs previously renowned for hiring needy teenagers who are saving for cars) places where they’ve always had a revolving door haven’t been hiring… or at least hiring teenagers… Which I can understand… the economies bad… blah blah blah…. major unemployment.. many people with kids you need the job worse than some teenager living in their parents’ house.

I get it. Fact of the matter is: My dad needs us to get jobs so we can be paying for our expenses and helping out with the bills… I know kids who are in worst cases too… kids who the moment they were fourteen are expected to pay for room and board.. the school fees and other such stuff… basically if they need anything they pay for it. Mostly because deep down their parents didn’t want kids and are stuck with them and want to either make a profit off of them or get rid of them A.S.A.P…. I realize that me having a job right now makes it so that some poor recently unemployed family may have to pawn off stuff to eat or such.

It sucks. I wish it wasn’t so…. I wish we were back in the thriving nineties where you could expect candy bars to 5/$1, or even as low as 6/$1… now we’re up to 79 cents on average for a candy bar. Honestly that’s the way to measure inflation overall just look at the prices of candy bars rise.

But anyways…. back to that problem with sis, she believes that she can’t do anything to make her funds more happy and that if she gets a new car it’s cursed… but the one she has must be cursed so after fixing it up she’s planning on selling it. She doesn’t trust in the world to take care of her…. this is a common problem with adults…. that I’ve seen anyways.

A few years back… maybe 2 or 3 I had a very philosophical conversation with someone… I think it was my older brother… now I don’t remember this conversation nearly at all… but at the end of the conversation I started to get thinking… and realized, “There’s no reason to worry, until that something happens.” Which I’ve found is very true. Should you worry about going into a coma? Should you stress about the possibility that you could go into a coma because of a car accident and take ridiculous precautions to prevent that from happening? (Such as, wrapping yourself in bubble wrap from head to toe, if you leave the house.) There’s no need to be paranoid, there’s no need to worry and what’s going to happen, will. The fact is, that I believe that certain events in our lives are not coincidences. If you are meant to die in a revolution to become a saint to someone who comes after you, then you will. Everything you do is to just sculpt you into who you will be. You have to go through trials and all that crap to become the best you possible.

I’m not crazy religious, I haven’t learned this at a church or anything and at the moment I don’t know if I believe in any higher beings… or creators or guardians (Past those that love you ie: father, mother, best friends, sibling, the love of your life.) I’m not trying to preach or to dis on anybody’s God/Goddess(s). The fact of the matter is, it’s hard to believe that the crap I’ve been through has no purpose and this explanation makes it easier to live through… the belief that something good and pure will come out of all of this weird crap. I don’t believe that this is some punishment for the “original sin” (I don’t believe in the original sin btw) I simply believe that somewhere out there the crap that I’ve gone through will help someone. I have to.

God, I get off-topic so much. Life is meant to be enjoyed. It isn’t meant to be worried over. It isn’t meant to be a journey to get the most money. Life isn’t even meant to be anything really. Life is literally what you make of it. Life is simply, yours.

A Very Good Morning

A Very Good Morning

Just so you know about this picture. I woke up at around 4 am, to go climb a mountain and get a picture of this sun rise. I admit it was crazy, and pointless and I literally did it because I could. I was so tired… and it probably wouldn’t be worth it to other people… but we double trespassed, gave blood, sweat and tears to take a few amazing shots… and I loved every second of it… It was thrilling. You can find beauty in anything.

Good luck in all that you do.
-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.