It's been over a year since I last posted on this blog. Has much changed? Depressingly little, as it turns out. I'm writing this post instead of doing my homework, which seems awfully telling to me that I haven't become that much more improved of a person over the past eighteen months.
I'm almost 20 now. Got a girlfriend. Lost my virginity. I'm no closer to learning how to work, though, and I still feel dreadfully unaccomplished. It's strange - I figured when I got closer to twenty I'd have figured out this sort of thing by now. I still haven't really gotten a job, and I can't get through the door to a counselor who could help me fix these problems with myself.
I guess I thought I'd be happier now, even if I didn't do anything to fix things.
But hey. Socially, I'm doing fine. Dentally, not so much, and I really should get to one in case this whole wisdom teeth thing doesn't go well. I feel somewhat overwhelmed by problems at this point, and I'm not doing anything to fix them. I guess I don't really know where to begin.
This is a fairly common situation with me, and I tend to just leave the problems with myself in the back of the mind until either they go away or I'm forced to deal with them.
I still haven't started that paper.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Lest We Forget
I really need to stop looking for attention. If I were to keep on moaning and trying to act all mysterious, as Alex puts it, I'll just end up getting into the same situation that I've gotten into again and again. I've got to stop trying to aggrandize my own ego through the words and approval of others, and get some actual accomplishments so that I can actually earn the respect I so desperately want to have.
I need to learn lessons from this. I can't let myself destroy something beautiful and not grow from the experience. I acted like a complete idiot, but I need to do what I said I would and make it up to her, even if she doesn't know I'm doing it. I have to do what I can.
Alright. All that aside, it's practically guaranteed I'm not going to show this blog to anyone I know anymore if I'm going to say stuff like that. The more I post, the more I'll want people to see it. I really am a whore for attention, but then I don't know what to do with it and I don't know how to get it without doing damage.
Urgh. That aside, goddamn Red Wings. I'm expecting them to win the Stanley Cup and all, but still, damn. I was hoping the Pens would at least put up a fight... or at least a goal. Bah. I still think they'll win at least one game, two tops, but the series certainly looks likely to be a bit one sided. Although I suppose the bruises from jumping on the bandwagon so hard are showing.
Whatever. Fuck off. I don't particularly care what you think, anonymous internet reader. This is where I come to bitch and rant about nothing in particular for no reason at all beyond liking what it looks like when something I make produces some palpable result. So again we're back at the self-aggrandizement, which is a quality about myself that I particularly do not like. I need to change that, but I'm not sure how and I don't know where to begin.
I think that I need to learn from this. That's why I've started calling myself Arch. If I can't make it up to you personally, then I'll do it in a round about way by making the world a better place for you, and your children if it comes to that.
I'm probably being overly dramatic, which is another unfortunate personal characteristic I've noticed about myself, but shit, I don't care about it this time.
Unfortunate that this whole situation has made it so I can't stand any mention of Iron Man. It was a good movie that had the unfortunate luck of being the focus of my dumb ass.
Ah, well. What's done is done. No turning back, we can only move forward.
I'm out.
I need to learn lessons from this. I can't let myself destroy something beautiful and not grow from the experience. I acted like a complete idiot, but I need to do what I said I would and make it up to her, even if she doesn't know I'm doing it. I have to do what I can.
Alright. All that aside, it's practically guaranteed I'm not going to show this blog to anyone I know anymore if I'm going to say stuff like that. The more I post, the more I'll want people to see it. I really am a whore for attention, but then I don't know what to do with it and I don't know how to get it without doing damage.
Urgh. That aside, goddamn Red Wings. I'm expecting them to win the Stanley Cup and all, but still, damn. I was hoping the Pens would at least put up a fight... or at least a goal. Bah. I still think they'll win at least one game, two tops, but the series certainly looks likely to be a bit one sided. Although I suppose the bruises from jumping on the bandwagon so hard are showing.
Whatever. Fuck off. I don't particularly care what you think, anonymous internet reader. This is where I come to bitch and rant about nothing in particular for no reason at all beyond liking what it looks like when something I make produces some palpable result. So again we're back at the self-aggrandizement, which is a quality about myself that I particularly do not like. I need to change that, but I'm not sure how and I don't know where to begin.
I think that I need to learn from this. That's why I've started calling myself Arch. If I can't make it up to you personally, then I'll do it in a round about way by making the world a better place for you, and your children if it comes to that.
I'm probably being overly dramatic, which is another unfortunate personal characteristic I've noticed about myself, but shit, I don't care about it this time.
Unfortunate that this whole situation has made it so I can't stand any mention of Iron Man. It was a good movie that had the unfortunate luck of being the focus of my dumb ass.
Ah, well. What's done is done. No turning back, we can only move forward.
I'm out.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
SHIT
I fucked up. I fucked up bad. Now I've really hurt somebody that really matters to me, and I have to do something to make it up to her.
FUCK. What the hell was I thinking?
Hindsight is a bitch.
I'm out.
FUCK. What the hell was I thinking?
Hindsight is a bitch.
I'm out.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
My Mistake
Seems I've been slipping somewhat in the posting business. Seems I had a busy weekend, and I wasn't exactly in the mood to post on here for a majority of it. I'm at work now, so I shouldn't be posting, but it's exceptionally quiet right now and there's really not much for me to do. So here I am, posting and whiling away the hours.
That situation I was whining about before seems to have settled. Looks like I burned a bridge. Funny to think about that someone that I was close to for several months might be the closest thing I've got to an enemy now. Maybe the fact that I don't really have any enemies to speak of means I haven't tried hard enough.
Although me not trying isn't exactly a shocking development. I plan to change that, but I've planned that before with uninspiring results. Perhaps this is called an inspiration. I want to show her that I'm someone worthy of respect, even if I can't be a good friend right now.
Bah. That's enough emo shit for now. I generally don't have any particular plan in mind when I write these posts - I'm basically just letting my mind and fingers wander until I figure I've written enough, and then I post it. No editing, no second guessing, no thought, I just do it.
Ted Kennedy has a malignant brain tumour, eh? That's unfortunate. I wouldn't wish cancer on anyone, but I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that the first thought that came to mind when I heard about it was wondering what exactly this development will do to the power balance in the United States Senate. It's a shame a large part of his legacy as one of the most successful and longest-serving senators will be tainted by his involvement in a woman's death, but that's the kind of thing that tends to damage a person's reputation.
Not to mention a lot of people will claim to feel that it's a bigger shame that the woman isn't still alive. They'd be right, of course, as a political and personal legacy is a fickle thing anyway, but lives always end and a continuing legacy is far more lasting if you've made enough of an impact. I've still got plenty of time... or so I think. I won't be alive in a thousand years, but if I start working now I may be able to impact events that far down the road.
When I say impact, I of course mean impact beyond the logical impact that my existence has on the world. Nobody can not affect the course of history, it's just the level of contribution that varies.
Hell, if I survive till 20, I'll be surprised. Call it a hunch, but for whatever reason I doubt I'll make it there. There's a grim certainty that I'll end up cutting out early, and I don't mean for lunch. I'm not too fussed about it. I can't say I really dread death, and I can't even name my worst fear.
I don't know. I'm not fearless by any means, but I can't think of anything that scares me more than anything else. It's an odd feeling I can't really put a name to. Honestly, I just view death as the world's longest, most restful nap. I suppose I just need to get over this fatalism and squeeze as much life into the time I've got left as I can.
Don't know how long I'll stick to that, though.
I can try.
I have to, really. Not like I can do anything else.
I'm out.
I'm not insane.
That situation I was whining about before seems to have settled. Looks like I burned a bridge. Funny to think about that someone that I was close to for several months might be the closest thing I've got to an enemy now. Maybe the fact that I don't really have any enemies to speak of means I haven't tried hard enough.
Although me not trying isn't exactly a shocking development. I plan to change that, but I've planned that before with uninspiring results. Perhaps this is called an inspiration. I want to show her that I'm someone worthy of respect, even if I can't be a good friend right now.
Bah. That's enough emo shit for now. I generally don't have any particular plan in mind when I write these posts - I'm basically just letting my mind and fingers wander until I figure I've written enough, and then I post it. No editing, no second guessing, no thought, I just do it.
Ted Kennedy has a malignant brain tumour, eh? That's unfortunate. I wouldn't wish cancer on anyone, but I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that the first thought that came to mind when I heard about it was wondering what exactly this development will do to the power balance in the United States Senate. It's a shame a large part of his legacy as one of the most successful and longest-serving senators will be tainted by his involvement in a woman's death, but that's the kind of thing that tends to damage a person's reputation.
Not to mention a lot of people will claim to feel that it's a bigger shame that the woman isn't still alive. They'd be right, of course, as a political and personal legacy is a fickle thing anyway, but lives always end and a continuing legacy is far more lasting if you've made enough of an impact. I've still got plenty of time... or so I think. I won't be alive in a thousand years, but if I start working now I may be able to impact events that far down the road.
When I say impact, I of course mean impact beyond the logical impact that my existence has on the world. Nobody can not affect the course of history, it's just the level of contribution that varies.
Hell, if I survive till 20, I'll be surprised. Call it a hunch, but for whatever reason I doubt I'll make it there. There's a grim certainty that I'll end up cutting out early, and I don't mean for lunch. I'm not too fussed about it. I can't say I really dread death, and I can't even name my worst fear.
I don't know. I'm not fearless by any means, but I can't think of anything that scares me more than anything else. It's an odd feeling I can't really put a name to. Honestly, I just view death as the world's longest, most restful nap. I suppose I just need to get over this fatalism and squeeze as much life into the time I've got left as I can.
Don't know how long I'll stick to that, though.
I can try.
I have to, really. Not like I can do anything else.
I'm out.
I'm not insane.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Screamer
I'm in a writing mood, but I don't know quite where to begin, or what exactly I want to write. I want to talk to her again, but I don't know, if I fold again now... alright.
Redefine self. When you want to talk to her, exercise instead, or do something productive. Turn this moping energy into something you can use to improve yourself, or something to improve the world around you. Alright? Let's make this into something positive.
There's laundry to deal with, for instance. You want to write something, so do that. You've got plenty of free time, so make some good out of it, and get stuff done that you've been meaning to do. This is supposed to be an inspirational post, I see.
Alright. Here's the situation. I've spent a sizable chunk of the past four and a half months moping about not being able to be with a girl I really want to be with. I need to stop doing this, but I couldn't do it on my own, so I asked her to block me. Unfortunately, while I'm fixated on her, I don't really notice other girls as much, or I'm afraid to try anything for fear that it'll damage my chances with girl 1. This is illogical as shit considering she clearly has no such compunctions, so... the situation needs to change, as right now it's quite strongly balanced against me.
I don't enjoy having the table stacked, and I especially don't like it when it's not in my favor.
So I'm going to use this setback positively. Make myself someone that she wants back, or someone that she'll wish that she had taken the chance with when she could.
I feel better. Just moping was killing me. Making this depressive energy work for me is something that I'm quite a fan of.
So let's get to it.
Let's make myself into a winner.
I'm out.
please don't stop the music
Redefine self. When you want to talk to her, exercise instead, or do something productive. Turn this moping energy into something you can use to improve yourself, or something to improve the world around you. Alright? Let's make this into something positive.
There's laundry to deal with, for instance. You want to write something, so do that. You've got plenty of free time, so make some good out of it, and get stuff done that you've been meaning to do. This is supposed to be an inspirational post, I see.
Alright. Here's the situation. I've spent a sizable chunk of the past four and a half months moping about not being able to be with a girl I really want to be with. I need to stop doing this, but I couldn't do it on my own, so I asked her to block me. Unfortunately, while I'm fixated on her, I don't really notice other girls as much, or I'm afraid to try anything for fear that it'll damage my chances with girl 1. This is illogical as shit considering she clearly has no such compunctions, so... the situation needs to change, as right now it's quite strongly balanced against me.
I don't enjoy having the table stacked, and I especially don't like it when it's not in my favor.
So I'm going to use this setback positively. Make myself someone that she wants back, or someone that she'll wish that she had taken the chance with when she could.
I feel better. Just moping was killing me. Making this depressive energy work for me is something that I'm quite a fan of.
So let's get to it.
Let's make myself into a winner.
I'm out.
please don't stop the music
Friday, May 16, 2008
Jazz Band
The date on this is backdated somewhat, as unfortunately I could not make it back to my computer in time for this to be a true daily rant. So what? I'm not too fussed about it, and if you have any sense at all, neither should you.
I find it somewhat perplexing that I managed to read fan fiction for over an hour today at work without any repercussions and indeed I'm going to get paid ten bucks for the effort.
It's late. I'm tired. I don't know what to do. With every day that goes by without her even trying to message me back, I expect less and less from her, and I wonder... did I do it just for a response? With stuff like this, I wonder if she ever liked me at all, or whether I even deserve an answer.
Christ. This stuff can drive a man insane.
I need to sleep. Get some writing down, get some music blaring. We'll see what happens. Don't count any possibility out yet. Study something, pick a topic and learn as much as you can.
I'm out.
I find it somewhat perplexing that I managed to read fan fiction for over an hour today at work without any repercussions and indeed I'm going to get paid ten bucks for the effort.
It's late. I'm tired. I don't know what to do. With every day that goes by without her even trying to message me back, I expect less and less from her, and I wonder... did I do it just for a response? With stuff like this, I wonder if she ever liked me at all, or whether I even deserve an answer.
Christ. This stuff can drive a man insane.
I need to sleep. Get some writing down, get some music blaring. We'll see what happens. Don't count any possibility out yet. Study something, pick a topic and learn as much as you can.
I'm out.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Fan Fiction Update - May 15, 2008
Word Count: 2687/10000 for the week.
Current Priority: The Broken Arrow - Chapter One
Y'know, I'm wondering if I should count my blog posts and planning sheets as part of the word count assessment for the week? All these words should go towards something, and I feel so productive when I have a count.
So let's use this brain. What do I want to do?
Well, let's get with an overview. Otherwise known as the "summary", that most scurrilous of beasts; the cramming of thousands and thousands of words into a snappy sentence. How doth one sum up a life in 250 characters or less?
I'm taking a shot at it! I'm doing it! You can't stop me! Don't even try!
The Broken Arrow by Xeric
Ron Weasley expected to spend his seventh year hunting Horcruxes at Harry's side, but his future changes course when he's suddenly abducted by a unusual band of mercenaries right off the Hogwarts Express.
Fiction Rated: M - English - Adventure/Horror - Chapters: 54 - Words: 230, 842 - Reviews: 533
Etc., etc., etc. That's the fanfiction.net summary. I still have yet to make a planning sheet for this story, and the statistics underneath the story are pretty much complete fabrications. Hopefully, some day I'll be able to match and surpass those numbers.
I'll come back with a planning sheet - truncated for online posting, of course, don't want to give the ending away - but I don't know when I'll be doing that. I'm out all day tomorrow, as I'm hanging out with an old friend from high school.
Suddenly, I'm not so sure I'll be getting a response. Sigh. Ah, well, this is what I asked for, isn't it? Christ, it sucks right now, though.
I'm out.
I'm afraid, I'm stuck in my ways
Current Priority: The Broken Arrow - Chapter One
Y'know, I'm wondering if I should count my blog posts and planning sheets as part of the word count assessment for the week? All these words should go towards something, and I feel so productive when I have a count.
So let's use this brain. What do I want to do?
Well, let's get with an overview. Otherwise known as the "summary", that most scurrilous of beasts; the cramming of thousands and thousands of words into a snappy sentence. How doth one sum up a life in 250 characters or less?
I'm taking a shot at it! I'm doing it! You can't stop me! Don't even try!
The Broken Arrow by Xeric
Ron Weasley expected to spend his seventh year hunting Horcruxes at Harry's side, but his future changes course when he's suddenly abducted by a unusual band of mercenaries right off the Hogwarts Express.
Fiction Rated: M - English - Adventure/Horror - Chapters: 54 - Words: 230, 842 - Reviews: 533
Etc., etc., etc. That's the fanfiction.net summary. I still have yet to make a planning sheet for this story, and the statistics underneath the story are pretty much complete fabrications. Hopefully, some day I'll be able to match and surpass those numbers.
I'll come back with a planning sheet - truncated for online posting, of course, don't want to give the ending away - but I don't know when I'll be doing that. I'm out all day tomorrow, as I'm hanging out with an old friend from high school.
Suddenly, I'm not so sure I'll be getting a response. Sigh. Ah, well, this is what I asked for, isn't it? Christ, it sucks right now, though.
I'm out.
I'm afraid, I'm stuck in my ways
Game On
Word Count: 0/10000 for the week.
Current Priority: The Broken Arrow - Chapter 1
Well, here I am. Survived another day, although there's very little threat in my job. I've yet to suffer any real risk of injury during a strenuous day of sitting in various chairs and typing. But hey, I've made $155 in two days just for sitting around and doing what ever is requested of me, so I'm not going to complain about that.
She hasn't answered my letter. I'm not surprised. Last time I wrote one, she elected to wait to see if I would change my mind again before responding. Which is legitimate, I suppose, but I feel like I'll eventually get a response. This weekend, probably. I don't see any way that the situation is magically going to turn out positively, though.
There's my whinging for the day.
I'm watching the Pittsburgh-Philadelphia game, and I'm cheering for the Pens. Yeah, yeah, bandwagon jumper, I'm well aware. In my defense, I've been quietly supporting them ever since they got Crosby. Just... not supporting them in any way that involves my money.
I think Dad's snoring.
I need to do some research into the background of the name "Philadelphia". Hey, goal! Awesome. Anyway, as I was saying, the name of a Roman city known for having a little Prophet situation seems kinda misplaced in Pennsylvania. Although I'm honestly somewhat intrigued in finding out just how the names of a lot of places were decided.
I know that the major cities in Ontario (Ottawa, Toronto) both have Native Canadian roots, and honestly reading the words it's pretty clear that's the background. Mind you, English is a fucked up language anyway, and the composition of many words I'm writing strike me as unusual as I type them. Although that kind of confusion only occurs when I try to look from outside the language in a bizarre perspective change I'm at a loss to explain to anyone. To be honest, I don't understand what I'm doing with my head myself.
Yep, Dad's definitely snoring. Mind you, he was across the country earlier today, I can understand him being a little tired. Up now, though, by the arrival of my other parent.
Well. Politics? Spent a lot of time looking at the people at Hillaryis44.org, and I'm somewhat mystified. These people display an astounding level of fanaticism to their chosen candidate (the erstwhile Senator Hillary Clinton), while decrying any level of attachment to her opponent (in similar introduction, the frequently mistyped Senator Barack Obama) as drinking the "Kool-aid".
As though they are the blessed few individuals that are brilliant enough to see through the mysterious fog that surrounds Obama to the true form beneath; aye, they see the truth of that cursed Moor from the brackish deep, unlike those who have imbibed from his Chalice of Misdirection.
Or such is my impression.
Note to self: Standardize the spelling of Kool-Aid before starting my own fanatical site. This kind of inconsistency cannot be borne.
Well, that'll do it. Philadelphia just won with an empty net goal. At least Pittsburgh made it exciting.
I was going to write a fanfiction update here, but I'm just going to fit that into a different post. This one is long enough.
I'm out.
Current Priority: The Broken Arrow - Chapter 1
Well, here I am. Survived another day, although there's very little threat in my job. I've yet to suffer any real risk of injury during a strenuous day of sitting in various chairs and typing. But hey, I've made $155 in two days just for sitting around and doing what ever is requested of me, so I'm not going to complain about that.
She hasn't answered my letter. I'm not surprised. Last time I wrote one, she elected to wait to see if I would change my mind again before responding. Which is legitimate, I suppose, but I feel like I'll eventually get a response. This weekend, probably. I don't see any way that the situation is magically going to turn out positively, though.
There's my whinging for the day.
I'm watching the Pittsburgh-Philadelphia game, and I'm cheering for the Pens. Yeah, yeah, bandwagon jumper, I'm well aware. In my defense, I've been quietly supporting them ever since they got Crosby. Just... not supporting them in any way that involves my money.
I think Dad's snoring.
I need to do some research into the background of the name "Philadelphia". Hey, goal! Awesome. Anyway, as I was saying, the name of a Roman city known for having a little Prophet situation seems kinda misplaced in Pennsylvania. Although I'm honestly somewhat intrigued in finding out just how the names of a lot of places were decided.
I know that the major cities in Ontario (Ottawa, Toronto) both have Native Canadian roots, and honestly reading the words it's pretty clear that's the background. Mind you, English is a fucked up language anyway, and the composition of many words I'm writing strike me as unusual as I type them. Although that kind of confusion only occurs when I try to look from outside the language in a bizarre perspective change I'm at a loss to explain to anyone. To be honest, I don't understand what I'm doing with my head myself.
Yep, Dad's definitely snoring. Mind you, he was across the country earlier today, I can understand him being a little tired. Up now, though, by the arrival of my other parent.
Well. Politics? Spent a lot of time looking at the people at Hillaryis44.org, and I'm somewhat mystified. These people display an astounding level of fanaticism to their chosen candidate (the erstwhile Senator Hillary Clinton), while decrying any level of attachment to her opponent (in similar introduction, the frequently mistyped Senator Barack Obama) as drinking the "Kool-aid".
As though they are the blessed few individuals that are brilliant enough to see through the mysterious fog that surrounds Obama to the true form beneath; aye, they see the truth of that cursed Moor from the brackish deep, unlike those who have imbibed from his Chalice of Misdirection.
Or such is my impression.
Note to self: Standardize the spelling of Kool-Aid before starting my own fanatical site. This kind of inconsistency cannot be borne.
Well, that'll do it. Philadelphia just won with an empty net goal. At least Pittsburgh made it exciting.
I was going to write a fanfiction update here, but I'm just going to fit that into a different post. This one is long enough.
I'm out.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Work Begins
Current Priority: The Broken Arrow
Word Count: 0/10000 for the week.
Well. I started my job today, and I'm having the strong urge to write things. It occured to me, "Hey, you've got that blog that you're not even using, use that?" and so I am. Behold the glory of my first real post.
I'm not exactly in a mood for letting my mind wander, because it inexorably returns to one point. Or rather, one person. For somebody who doesn't like to foist their problems onto somebody else I certainly manage to find places to bitch. For instance, here's another one. Can't claim this is particularly anonymous either, considering that's my name down at the bottom of all this.
Okay. So I need to say something of note here. I'm getting back into the whole fanfiction writing business, just for shits and giggles. I need to write something and the idea of a novel that focuses on Ron as a main character is intriguing to me. Thus, The Broken Arrow (heretofore TBA), which should make for an interesting experience if I actually manage to go where I want to with it.
TBA starts with an unexpected scene - Cornelius Fudge once again occupying the Ministry of Magic as the Minister, for a perplexing reason that leaves the reader wondering what exactly has gone so terribly wrong in the world that he is once again in that most illustrious of offices. Fudge is the narrator for the opening chapter, and as such narrates it from his own perspective, which is... shall we say, somewhat biased. It's around April 1997 at this point, by the way, so there's a lot of unanswered questions right off the bat.
Oh, yeah, and Ron Weasley is on trial for the murder of Harry Potter. Surprise!
So, yeah. It's one of those stories that starts in medias res, Danny said like the literary fag that he is. I've yet to actually finish a story, but I desperately need to finish a story or I'll forever feel as though I've never accomplished anything.
Self esteem problems, somewhat. Isn't that charming? I'm such a card.
Well. It's getting late, and I need to walk my dog, empty some laundry hampers, and get some stuff done. If I'm not in bed by midnight, there's a problem, as eight hours of sleep is something I badly need for seven hours of hardcore sitting tomorrow. Although I don't exactly need to be there until 11, technically, I do enjoy having money and being there longer is a good way of achieving it.
Righto. I'll get back on here tomorrow, let you know where I'm at. Can't stay still, gotta keep focused, otherwise my mind swings back to focus on one thing - person - and that's not something I want or can deal with right now.
I'm out.
Word Count: 0/10000 for the week.
Well. I started my job today, and I'm having the strong urge to write things. It occured to me, "Hey, you've got that blog that you're not even using, use that?" and so I am. Behold the glory of my first real post.
I'm not exactly in a mood for letting my mind wander, because it inexorably returns to one point. Or rather, one person. For somebody who doesn't like to foist their problems onto somebody else I certainly manage to find places to bitch. For instance, here's another one. Can't claim this is particularly anonymous either, considering that's my name down at the bottom of all this.
Okay. So I need to say something of note here. I'm getting back into the whole fanfiction writing business, just for shits and giggles. I need to write something and the idea of a novel that focuses on Ron as a main character is intriguing to me. Thus, The Broken Arrow (heretofore TBA), which should make for an interesting experience if I actually manage to go where I want to with it.
TBA starts with an unexpected scene - Cornelius Fudge once again occupying the Ministry of Magic as the Minister, for a perplexing reason that leaves the reader wondering what exactly has gone so terribly wrong in the world that he is once again in that most illustrious of offices. Fudge is the narrator for the opening chapter, and as such narrates it from his own perspective, which is... shall we say, somewhat biased. It's around April 1997 at this point, by the way, so there's a lot of unanswered questions right off the bat.
Oh, yeah, and Ron Weasley is on trial for the murder of Harry Potter. Surprise!
So, yeah. It's one of those stories that starts in medias res, Danny said like the literary fag that he is. I've yet to actually finish a story, but I desperately need to finish a story or I'll forever feel as though I've never accomplished anything.
Self esteem problems, somewhat. Isn't that charming? I'm such a card.
Well. It's getting late, and I need to walk my dog, empty some laundry hampers, and get some stuff done. If I'm not in bed by midnight, there's a problem, as eight hours of sleep is something I badly need for seven hours of hardcore sitting tomorrow. Although I don't exactly need to be there until 11, technically, I do enjoy having money and being there longer is a good way of achieving it.
Righto. I'll get back on here tomorrow, let you know where I'm at. Can't stay still, gotta keep focused, otherwise my mind swings back to focus on one thing - person - and that's not something I want or can deal with right now.
I'm out.
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