grape_soda: (srly?)
So I've been up all night because I can't sleep, because my protagonist has suddenly started to take shape and the getting is good for writing right now. I don't know how it is for other people, but for me, writing is either feast or famine. I mean when it's famine I still write anyway, even though it's dry and tasteless and makes no sense. I've got this whole folder of stuff I wrote through famine periods, because my fingers move on the keyboard no matter what. But when it's feast, it flows endlessly and it's like I have some weird connection to some distant world of magic or something that sends these thoughts and this sort of weird wisdom I'm sure I don't really have into my fingers, through my heart and not my brain. Like, my brain has no part of writing when it's feast.

But the point of all this is that I was thinking that I want to be annoyed because my writing won't let me sleep, but all I can be is happy because all I can think about is how much I LOVE WRITING. Seriously, it's the one thing I've been consistently passionate about since I could form coherent thoughts. Before I could hold a pencil I would come up with these long and complicated tales on my head and draw them out in scribbles, and then in grade school I'd tap out these stupid long stories on notebook paper, and then eventually I moved on to writing horror novels in notebooks in high school. And then I discovered writing on the computer and I was pumping out thousands of words a week of crappy fanfiction and horrific tales of the occult, endlessly, until it started becoming something like actual novels. I think I've morphed into a completely separate person at least four times since I got really into writing, but this crazy blinding passion for it is something that's remained consistent no matter what, no matter how sad or scared or self-loathing or stupid or jaded or whatever else I've ever been I was, writing still WORKED. It's like this connection to something outside of myself, something bigger, some other world that I can only scrape a little bit of fairy dust off the edge of when I write. Is this what it feels like for monks when they meditate? Is this that sublime state of mind they reach, or what? Am I tasting it a little bit? It's so exciting to think about, and it makes me so damn happy.

So wow... that was a novel in itself, wasn't it? XD I guess the point of this is that it's good to have passion for at least one thing, even if it's just purely recreational like mine is.

So what's your passion? Comment here, or write up your own minirant and link me to it. I want to know <3
grape_soda: (TamaHaru cheek kiss)
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Gave up a chance to be with her so she could be happy with someone else.
Oh... and smashed into a plate glass window when I was running around panicking after I first realized I was in love with her. Sheesh.

(PS: life and Xmas updates come later. I'm too lazy right now. But I'm back... and thanks for the wonderful gifts, you guys! <3 ^^)

December 2011

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