Episode VI: Return of The Blog

I realized today that I've been neglecting my blog. You may say "Why is that? Why after all these months are you feeling the stirrings of remorse? Why, after all these years, have you decided to feel the guilt you deserve to feel?"

To which I'll respond, "I just started back to school, and I need a way to procrastinate creatively."

Also, my professor suggested it. So there, it's authorized procrastination. Really, now that I've grown up a little bit, I need to start putting things out there. Plus, I think I can handle running a blog without having an attitude now.

Any way: no promises, but I think I'm going to start a good habit called blogging what I write.

NaNoWriMo and other things

I have never been able to participate in NaNoWriMo before. I have always been too busy, or too aware of my responsibilities to write a marathon. And now that I have discovered Camp NaNoWriMo, I have developed another obstacle to my write-athon-ing: I don't want to.

The ceaseless writing is just as unappealing to me as ceaseless running is. I can write 3,000 words in a day, no problem. Maintaining that is a bit of a stretch for me, at the moment. I need to exercise the writing muscles. I'd rather be an endurance writer-- one who writes daily throughout the year, with the occasional sprint to the deadline.

Still, I like the writing I have done (which is probably a bad sign), and will continue novel-ing.

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I am still trying to figure out a social network balance. I would like to be able to blog here, post on my tumblr, and maintain my twitter account. I like the variety of these sites, and the creativity required to run each of them. (If I had any talent at video editing, I would probably do Youtube as well; but I suppose I am a text-based creature.)

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I have rediscovered the library.

Just walking into the library, reading the back of books, walking out again in possession of books... It makes me giddy with joy. It's better than Goodreads. (Which I am now addicted to.)

I read so much less in college than I did in high school. For example, I have 90 book reading lists from 9th and 10th grades. Last year, I read 17 books. I am a much sadder individual these days. I miss the days of ridiculous free time for reading.

I am actually quite proud of the selection of books I checked out of the library: The Name of The Star, Daughter of Smoke and Bone, Pathfinder, A Brief History of Montmaray, and The 10 p.m. Question. Beautiful.

Social Network Mad

I have a confession to make. 

I have way too many social networking accounts. It started off innocently enough. "I think I'll sign up for Facebook." "I should probably get a blogger account so I can stalk these authors adequately." "You know what, Twitter is a fantastic place." 

Then I found Tumblr and Pinterest. It's like digital scrapbooking. I have never been one for crafts. I have always maintained that I didn't have the attention span necessary to knit a blanket.

And now look. I have quit Twitter and given up the blog entirely. But I found out, while contemplating the universe this past week, that I miss this blog.

So, I have taken all previous posts off of the good old blog; I have a tendency to write things that I wish I hadn't, and I don't have the stamina to edit 80-something posts at the moment. Maybe I'll re-post some earlier material in the future. 

But I do want to keep writing here, because this corner of the internet is quite cozy. It's welcoming. 

Oh my goodness, I have begun to detect nuances in the world of social networking. I am a social network aficionado.

The horror!

Hello Again

First, I feel more like writing these days. That doesn't mean I have been writing, necessarily. It’s just part of the returning curiosity that abandoned me during the school year. It is much too easy to focus on grades instead of actually learning anything. Perhaps the desire to write comes from the excessive journaling Summer Break allows.

Second, Doctor Who. By JOVE what an end to the season. I have so much admiration for Stephen Moffat, the entire cast and the production crew. The skill and passion that goes into making that show continually shines through.

Third, my family adopted two young cats, one of which never stops speaking cat-speak. We have (very shallow) conversations. Some of these conversations involve my feet being attacked at 5:30 in the morning.

There you go: brief update on my thoughts from the month. MOVING ON.

Now, The Voice: much better than American Idol, but people still sing with bad intonation. Yet it's addicting. And so awkward. So, So, Awkward. If it isn't evident, I love awkward. (Plus, my ears have a crush on Adam Levine's ability to sing in tune.)

Awkward. I love awkward.

I've done a bit of reading (the unintentional kind, where I wander around picking up books at random,) during the past two weeks. I just started A Farewell to Arms and I've been thinking about Hemingway and his life, and Europe and things. Also, I read Maureen Johnson's 13 Little Blue Envelopes, which has an amount of European backpacking. There's something that's so romantic about struggling in Europe, as though we would be okay, we would be perfect, if we could be that culture and have so little but be so far from normal.

I think they call that wanderlust. I think the reason I read is to sate my wanderlust, the reason I own books is to share worlds with my friends, and the reason I write is to build my own little countries and learn their languages.