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Living the Aftermath...

Still slightly nauseated from that three-hour session with Mel Gibson. Gah. All in all, it wasn't a bad movie, just parts of it. But there was more gratuitious violence in that movie than was necessary. Everywhere you looked, it was hack this, slash that, crush his skull. Ew. I really didn't need to see that. Yes, I admit that I'm fairly squeamish. I'm okay with that. Enough bad stuff happens in real life than I don't need to have it played out before me, moment for bloody moment. Movies are a form of escapism for me, and I much prefer the neat deaths of science fiction to the dismemberment of historical dramas. I know that you bleed. I know that mortal injuries are messy, gory things. I know what death and violence look like. I resent that these things are employed as mere "shock tactics". They say that my generation is becoming too used, too familiar with the violence in the media. And yet no one questions the director's decison to make the stuff on-screen.
Have an early lesson tomorrow. I think I switched with Emily. Not that I care, only means I have to get up an hour earlier. One of these days, I have to give serious thought to the concept of sleep. As is, when and how much. I either don't sleep at all, or, like yesterday, finally crash around noon and don't regain consciousness until after midnight. And then I'm awake.
Okay. I have a glimmerling of a story idea, and I've been kind of letting it stew for a while. And since it hasn't gone away, I might actually attempt to dredge it up from the depths of my subcousciousness and type it up. Scary, I know. But I do occasionally have flashes of inspiration. Well, actually, inspiration is never hard to grab onto. What continually eludes me is the rest of the story, especially the ending. My ancient hard drive is littered with the beginnings and sometimes middles of stories. The problem is, some of them are quite awful. I knew they were, and it was only desperation that kept them going. But then I reach the point where reality drops on me like an anchor, and I have to abandon them. You know what my whole problem is? (Stop laughing, you guys. I meant the writing one.) I just refuse to be mediocre. If it isn't perfect and wonderful right away, I end up deleting it and then staring haplessly at a blank screen. I could write bad stuff very easily. But it would be bad, and I would know it. Funny, eh?
On a positive note, I got an e-mail asking to archive one on my fics. Yes, I know that's not much, but, hey, it's cool and I so rarely get fedback of any kind, let alone positive.

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
veijukka
Feb. 27th, 2002 01:45 pm (UTC)
*#$^%@ muse!
Actually, believe it or not, I have the same problem (yes, I know, among others). One of the things I've had to do is get over the thought that everything I write has to be good. Or that anything has to be good, for that matter. Sometimes I think I have to get all the crap out before I can write anything decent. Remember, you can always cut, weed, chop and eviscerate something, but only once it's been written. Can't do a thing to it if it's stuck in your brain... =)
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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