On disappointment, strangers, and ramblings

Things have been odd in my mind as of late. I have really been living in the world of my characters (from my vampire story “On Death and Immortality") as I try to figure out how I want to end the story. I have grown attached to the characters that should be the antagonists, so I know that, if I must, I’ll have a hard time actually killing them. I don’t know which angle I should go towards. That is why I’ve taken a break in writing and have started the long process of typing up everything I have already written (I hand-write all my stories into a variety of notebooks I buy and scatter around my living room). I am hoping to come to a conclusion as I relive what it is I’ve already written.

“Are you okay?”

I’ve heard that a lot this week. I thought that I was acting sociable, friendly, maybe a little less talkative but not unlike my usual self. But, my friends, peers, etc. have constantly been wondering how I am. The truth is I’m better than I have been in a long time, and I don’t know why. I’ve suddenly begun sleeping better, leaving me to feel rested during the day (a phenomenon I recently thought was purely a myth), and I realized that I have a greater handle on my school work than many other people in my situation. Is it perfect? Not by a long shot, but it will never be perfect. Those that strive solely for perfection will continually find themselves to be disappointed by what they do achieve. I do not wish to be disappointed.

I love all of my friends, and I keep them as close to me as I feel comfortable. Some are closer than others, and they generally know where they stand. Strangers? I have no time for, unless I am put into a situation where I am forced to talk. It’s not that I am shy, or introverted, or whatever you would like to call it. I just don’t have interest. They don’t know me, I don’t know them, and it’ll stay that way unless an outside force intervenes. That is how I have come to meet any of my friends. None of them are from random walk-ups on my behalf because they looked interesting. I figure that, if I’m not interested in a person, they aren’t interested in me, so why bother? Perhaps this is normal to more people, but I know many people who actively try to meet new people, walk up to strangers at anything (event, school, public place) and try to start a conversation. Which seems intrusive, but they have good intentions.

On a similar subject, I have realized how little time I have for certain things. If a person strongly opposes a view of mine, and will talk at length about their side (even if they do it in a fair manner), I find that I have no interest in listening. To me, I have my reasons for my view, and I don’t really care to listen to yours (there are exceptions, both for views and people). If I see a homeless person begging, coming to me time and time again, I do feel like I can’t possibly connect to them even though I probably CAN. I make judgments very quickly, but I can change those views if push comes to shove. I feel disconnected from so many groups that I’ve always strived to be in, and it’s starting to not matter. High school mindsets are in the past; I’m in college now and petty things such as groups, name calling, etc. shouldn’t matter anymore. And, to me, they mostly don’t.

This is a bit of a rambling blog update. I want to strive for similarity amongst one post, but I am not in a similar mind today. Living, mentally, within another world takes you far out of the normal one. I have a test today that I didn’t do hardly any studying for, but it seems fine to me because I also got around 10,000 words written in the last week. Justification? Not entirely. But that’s what my mind is trying to do. It’s what it has always done to prove that, even though I didn’t do one thing, at least I did something else. If I spend an entire day doing nothing, just sitting on the couch staring blankly at the television, I cannot stand myself. I have to do something, whether it is helpful or not.

Until next week (or whenever I get the time to sit down once again)…

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B.K.

Getting the ball rolling.

So many things run through my mind when I am given the time to sit by myself, stuck again with my thoughts, and usually I don’t know what exactly I can do to entertain them. Should I dwell on the strange thoughts that come into my head, the ones that show me stories to write, stories I have written, things I should edit? Or should I try to focus on something that, to outsiders, would be more important? I, as should be clear, almost always dwell on my stories. There isn’t a moment in the day that I’m not at least partially focused on something to write. A classmate of mine told me I have “graphomania,” an obsessive impulse to write, and I agree. I have over ten notebooks scattered across my house that all have different stories started in them. I can’t stop buying more, because I always think of new stories.

Anything sets me off. I don’t get my stories from dreams, which is something I might be a tiny bit jaded about. My dreams? What could possibly go through my sleep mind? The same mind that obsesses about school shootings, vampires, serial killers, and death? Work. School. Everything that is normal in my life. It seems almost like, when compared to my day dreaming mind, I get worn out of certain thoughts. I want to find something that will cause more vivid and strange dreams. Think of the possibilities! I’m bound by my own set of morals and limitations, I can only think so far, but when asleep, the mind can create such fantastical worlds and characters! Maybe I will begin having dreams that will excite me when my life doesn’t revolve around schoolwork and retail work. I have at least another year to wait until I that will happen, however.

How do I get my story ideas, though? Clearly, as just said, not via dream world. Damn. No, I watch a large amount of television and movies, and read so many books, that are mysteries, that include story lines that absolutely fascinate me. I approach situations like this in a different way from many people I know. I go in almost always knowing who did what, and why. Yet, I’m not always right, and generally, when I am actually wrong, I enjoy those stories a great deal more. I enjoy being tricked when I’m reading/watching something. Without that trickery, there isn’t the guessing game and the intrigue. I take the storylines that I see and put my own twist to them. I wonder what would happen to those characters if their friend had really died in that car accident, if their parents hadn’t gotten a divorce when the character was a young child, anything. How could I make this story my own?

Daydreams are have a huge contribution to my story writing, along with just paying attention to things people tell me. I react to things in a strange way (as long as no one I personally know is, in any way, involved; keep this in mind). Here is an example: a friend came up to me not to long ago and told me a story. Their coworker’s friend had gotten a phone call from their ex, the ex said a lot “I’m sorry. I miss you. I’m back in town.” Anything that was possible to show that this person wasn’t in a good state of mind. And then they said the one thing that caught my attention. “I’m so tired.” And a sound like a gunshot. I don’t know what happened with this individual, if the noise was just a general misunderstanding or not, but it really interested me. I haven’t made a story based on it yet, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been simmering on the back burner for awhile.

“I’m so tired.” What a wonderfully dark phrase that is all on its own. It could mean so many different things, from true general sleepiness all the way to severe depression. I can’t even begin to express how many different story ideas I thought of when I heard that story. I acted sad (and, in a way, I felt for the person who had heard their ex say this), but really, I couldn’t feel the correct amount of empathy. I can’t. This isn’t to say that, if you were to tell me a story, I will just smile and start writing. I know what I’m supposed to feel, and I try to. But I honestly cannot pull up the emotions that convey empathy, sadness, etc. towards stories that are deliciously twisted (another phrase I am very fond of). I do feel a great amount of happiness towards strangers (watching reality television has done nothing but prove that to me), and I feel embarrassed for characters, but not sadness/anger.

I want to add some short stories to this blog, but I need your help. Is there anything you’ve ever want to see written into a story? A character that you have created, but you don’t like/don’t feel like you can write? Anything? I have a large list of things already, but I haven’t touched on them in so long that I am afraid to touch them again. The characters guide my stories, and I’ve ignored them. Help me out?

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B.K.