Oh.
My.
God.
OH MY GOD.
...OH MY GOD!
That's the most I've used the word "god" in a long time.
Holy shit!
I just finished listening to the audio books of Stephen Kings Dark Tower Series. Finally. I've been reading these books since I was twelve.
HOLY SHIT!!!
These books have a supreme significance for me. For one thing, they are some of the only books by Stephen King I will actually read. I don't like him, damn it. He's too popular and it pisses me off... because I'm jealous. Yeah, jealous. I said it. Finally.
Anyway, I just finished reading THE DARK TOWER SERIES by STEPHEN KING (mentioned that, haven't I?). If you have not read this series--well, I don't entirely blame it. It's ridiculously long. AND FRIGGEN GOOD SO PICK IT UP GODS CURSE YOU!
And if your too lazy to read it, get the audio book from the library (if you're poor like me) or buy it off eBay or just go to your local mega-chain bookstore and shell out $40 for each copy. Hats off to you for that, you rich bastards.
Sorry, I'm being insulting again but I cannot really help it. I feel like cursing up a storm, a big sooty-black clouded storm that rains all over everyone's parade.
I've been listening to book VII (Seven, for those of you slow on the uptake) and it's been ridiculously distracting. I've been sleeping in the guest bedroom/office so I can listen to the audio book on my computer while I fall asleep. I've been dreaming of Roland's and Susannah's and Eddie Dean's and Jake Chamber's and Oy's. And fish, for some odd reason...
There's something about this story that is ridiculously compelling to me. The bits that Stephen King throws in about himself, the bits the SK writes in the prefaces and afterwards about how he FEELS when he writes the story, about what it means to him...
I read Stephen Kings "On Writing" and, for the most part, it described my process, though mine is a little different in aspects. Still, writing is something that I feel I do because I was given the task of doing it, not because I woke up one morning when I was nine years old and said, "Hey, I want to write for a living". No, the stories were always there, they've been there for years beyond measure and before I was born, I'm only here because I have the ability to listen and to put pen to paper, keyboard to screen. It sounds hocky, I know, but it's how I FEEL, it is what I KNOW.
When Stephen King writes about himself in the stories, writes of how the voices sing to him, speak to him, how he knows that there are other worlds then these... well, it strikes a true cord in my heart. I feel kinship to this man I have never known and will likely never know, for I suspect his passing will come before or soon after I finally publish a finished work.
So the Dark Tower books, to me, are something of a religious thing. Almost. Not quite--scratch that. They're spiritual. That's all. And I know that one day I will spin a yarn that will be as the Dark Tower was to Stephen King. A master story, if you will. It's already in progress, and has been since a strange dream on the eve of my eleventh birthday. Dreams are my way into writing and always have been. Do not ask me to explain, because the way I just wrote it is the best I've put it so far. I know that my story is not the Dark Tower and a small sliver of me feels envy in that, but not really. The Dark Tower was King's story to tell, and he told it well. "Say true, say thankya." I only hope I can spin the tale I need to spin with the same dexterity as he.
I am glad that I have finished it, for I feel that this is my year. I don't know why, and a rational part of my mind is whispering caution against making statements such as these. That I do not know anything for certain and never have, but I have an INCLING. That's enough for me at most times.
What does that mean? My year? Everything and nothing. Everything and nothing.
Ah...
School is good but the homework has piled again. I'm going to be studying most of the night away tonight when I'm not doing laundry and cleaning up the condo a bit. The office stays remarkably clean, I think because it is my workspace and I must keep the place I work clean. The rest of the place is a mess. I must do laundry before I drown in dirty clothes.
And shower.
My first Spanish test is on Monday and I have two chapters in History to read and two in Anthropology as well. History is on Saturday, early morning, so I'm going to jump that hurdle first if I can, and then move to Spanish to study well and good and then onto Anthropology, which comes rather naturally since it is my favorite subject. Still, History is proving to be quite fascinating. Who knew?
Alright, alright, I feel I've talked enough. Hello, hello, to all of those I have not said hello to for a while. Please allow me this time to be in my own space, for there is much I have to do and I get overwhelmed easily these days. Sometimes the stress of handling almost everything on my own gets to me in a strange way. Feels like a great, crushing vice on my head. Other times I'm fine. Most of the time anyway.
I'm writing again. It feels lovely.
Goodbye, all, and until next time,
-Lady Teigra-
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Captivated by the legends of the undead.
Listening to Godsmack's "Vampires". Great little composite piece with no vocals save some guy--sounds like someone off a radio or old time television program--talking about the legends of the undead; what interests humans so about vampires.
I realized something yesterday with a shock quite like a lightening strike--that I'm not going to be happy with a normal life. I may convince myself, if I fail, that I am happy, but I really will not be. I am a writer and, above all, I want and need to write. I have extremely high expectations of myself--that I will be part of those 3% of writers that are actually able to support themselves with writing alone.
To me life is not about owning a house, or marrying and having children, or how much jewelry I have or fancy new gadgets I acquire. Life is about fulfilling my deepest desire--which is to go into a bookstore and see dozens of books on the shelf that are written by me. To speak to people about my writing and share my world. I have more books inside my head even now--at eighteen--that I could not write them all down in one lifetime. I'm fascinated with the paranormal and it's correlation into the sociological and psychological aspects of human beings. My stories are not just about vampires, werewolves, druids, gods, demons, immortals; they are about the human condition. What we find in life versus what we crave.
I'm not going to be happy, really happy, unless that is my life. The only alternative I could think would be if some dimensional portal opened up and I was actually drawn into my world--which would take some adjusting, but I'd be ridiculously happy there, as well. Just a fantasy.
Speaking in real life terms; I want to be a writer. I want to look around and be able to say, "All of this is from the words that I weave together, gifts from my head and from my heart and my soul."
Sounds a little cliché, I know, but it’s what I want.
I expect to be a highly successful writer. I will be satisfied with nothing less.
One thing I’ve noticed about all of my heroes and heroines is that, they have all experience an inordinate amount of pain. They have lost family, friends; they have personally gone through nightmares themselves—physical, mental and sexual abuse. I realized this the other day when I was in a counseling session, and this is why.
I’ve never met an interesting person who has not had some great tragedy befall them.
I keep hearing from people, on all sides, that I’m too wise, too smart, too mature for my age. There’s a reason for that. I’ve gone through a lot of hardships and a lot of tragedies my entire life. It has only recently began to calm down, for the first time, really, in all of my existence. This has been a time of tremendous emotional growth for me, because I realized that I had to learn from all of these experiences or have them all befall me once again. I’ve self-analyzed myself; put myself under and emotional microscope, tracked most of my motions, actions, feelings and wondered why, and come up with general explanations. This work is never finished. I’ve psycho-analyzed friends and family—as well as people I meet in a general day-to-day occurrence. I’m critical and sometimes cruel, but generally correct. The only way in which I will deal with a regular person is to ‘observe’ them, much as a scientist would in a laboratory—except this is the lab of my mind and the world that I am doing the experiments in.
I’ve been told that I’m a passive manipulator and that I’m generally dangerous (this was from a psychologist who analyzed me when I went to Juvenile hall for nine days when I was fourteen). Not because I was violent or criminal, but because I was so smart. She said that I had to be careful because I could too easily influence the minds of others. I have found this, though experimentation, to be generally true.
I consider myself an old soul in a young body. My insides have experienced things that my outside does not reflect—aside from looking older then your average eighteen year old (an effect of stress, so I’m told).
I’m a bit arrogant, a bit self-critical. I have the highest expectations of myself and I do not allow myself to feel pity for my past situations. I am very happy to be the person that I am today. I consider myself SO very ahead of the game. Where others my age will spend the next few years doing a variety of unmentionable idiocies, I will try to make my mistakes more rational then impulsive. I understand that I am imperfect and subject to all sorts of nastiness, but I will try to avoid it. What the last eighteen years has taught me is enough to fill an entire book. Which, eventually, it will be.
Maggio il vostro amore di luce non penetrare l'oscurità della notte,
-Lady Teigra-
Godsmack
“Vampires”
(Sounds much better then it reads)
No creatures of the night have captured our imagination like vampires.
What explains our enduring fascination with vampires?
What is it about the vampire myth that explains our interest?
Is it the overtones of sexual lust, power and control?
Or is it a fascination with the immortality of the undead.
What dark and hidden parts of our psyche are aroused and captivated by the legends of the undead?
The mystery of the undead will continue to fascinate the living.
I realized something yesterday with a shock quite like a lightening strike--that I'm not going to be happy with a normal life. I may convince myself, if I fail, that I am happy, but I really will not be. I am a writer and, above all, I want and need to write. I have extremely high expectations of myself--that I will be part of those 3% of writers that are actually able to support themselves with writing alone.
To me life is not about owning a house, or marrying and having children, or how much jewelry I have or fancy new gadgets I acquire. Life is about fulfilling my deepest desire--which is to go into a bookstore and see dozens of books on the shelf that are written by me. To speak to people about my writing and share my world. I have more books inside my head even now--at eighteen--that I could not write them all down in one lifetime. I'm fascinated with the paranormal and it's correlation into the sociological and psychological aspects of human beings. My stories are not just about vampires, werewolves, druids, gods, demons, immortals; they are about the human condition. What we find in life versus what we crave.
I'm not going to be happy, really happy, unless that is my life. The only alternative I could think would be if some dimensional portal opened up and I was actually drawn into my world--which would take some adjusting, but I'd be ridiculously happy there, as well. Just a fantasy.
Speaking in real life terms; I want to be a writer. I want to look around and be able to say, "All of this is from the words that I weave together, gifts from my head and from my heart and my soul."
Sounds a little cliché, I know, but it’s what I want.
I expect to be a highly successful writer. I will be satisfied with nothing less.
One thing I’ve noticed about all of my heroes and heroines is that, they have all experience an inordinate amount of pain. They have lost family, friends; they have personally gone through nightmares themselves—physical, mental and sexual abuse. I realized this the other day when I was in a counseling session, and this is why.
I’ve never met an interesting person who has not had some great tragedy befall them.
I keep hearing from people, on all sides, that I’m too wise, too smart, too mature for my age. There’s a reason for that. I’ve gone through a lot of hardships and a lot of tragedies my entire life. It has only recently began to calm down, for the first time, really, in all of my existence. This has been a time of tremendous emotional growth for me, because I realized that I had to learn from all of these experiences or have them all befall me once again. I’ve self-analyzed myself; put myself under and emotional microscope, tracked most of my motions, actions, feelings and wondered why, and come up with general explanations. This work is never finished. I’ve psycho-analyzed friends and family—as well as people I meet in a general day-to-day occurrence. I’m critical and sometimes cruel, but generally correct. The only way in which I will deal with a regular person is to ‘observe’ them, much as a scientist would in a laboratory—except this is the lab of my mind and the world that I am doing the experiments in.
I’ve been told that I’m a passive manipulator and that I’m generally dangerous (this was from a psychologist who analyzed me when I went to Juvenile hall for nine days when I was fourteen). Not because I was violent or criminal, but because I was so smart. She said that I had to be careful because I could too easily influence the minds of others. I have found this, though experimentation, to be generally true.
I consider myself an old soul in a young body. My insides have experienced things that my outside does not reflect—aside from looking older then your average eighteen year old (an effect of stress, so I’m told).
I’m a bit arrogant, a bit self-critical. I have the highest expectations of myself and I do not allow myself to feel pity for my past situations. I am very happy to be the person that I am today. I consider myself SO very ahead of the game. Where others my age will spend the next few years doing a variety of unmentionable idiocies, I will try to make my mistakes more rational then impulsive. I understand that I am imperfect and subject to all sorts of nastiness, but I will try to avoid it. What the last eighteen years has taught me is enough to fill an entire book. Which, eventually, it will be.
Maggio il vostro amore di luce non penetrare l'oscurità della notte,
-Lady Teigra-
Godsmack
“Vampires”
(Sounds much better then it reads)
No creatures of the night have captured our imagination like vampires.
What explains our enduring fascination with vampires?
What is it about the vampire myth that explains our interest?
Is it the overtones of sexual lust, power and control?
Or is it a fascination with the immortality of the undead.
What dark and hidden parts of our psyche are aroused and captivated by the legends of the undead?
The mystery of the undead will continue to fascinate the living.
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