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The Last Angry Girl Rants Again
Aug. 22nd, 2002 12:24 pmI sit down at the computer every day, with the intention of writing something, and wind up staring at the screen for hours on end.
“Oh, Heather, you should write, blah blah, you’ve got such a talent for it, but you shouldn’t write fanfics,” is something I’m sick to death of hearing.
I don’t know why I’m seemingly incapable of writing something original. Fanfics I can think up one after the other, no problem, but try to do something that’s your own and you hit a wall, you know?
So mom tells me just to change a few details. Oh, yes, I can see exactly how this is going to go. “Fuck-head and So-and-So had to go on an important mission to the land of Oogerbooger to destroy the Magical Necklace of The Goddess of Death, which, as every other bauble know to mankind, had some kind of horrible power and if it fell into the wrong hands the world was going to end. Or maybe it was a crystal… The Black Imperial Gemstone of Doom? Or how about the Baseball cap from Hell? Anyway, Fuck-Head and So-and-So met up with a Mysterious Stranger, and they fell into a trap, like, three times, before they finally destroy the thing. Oh, and by the way, one of them dies a heroic death so… yeah.”
Please, show me the originality.
I’m just pissed because I’m almost twenty and I have absolutely nothing to show for it, except for a few bad paintings. Well, they’re not bad. I consider them quite mediocre, just like everything else I do or have done. I’m not bad at anything, I’m just average, which we all know is worse than bad.
So fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I feel like crying but I’m not gonna because emotions don’t exist and anything pertaining to them is A) psychobabble or B) mumbo-jumbo, and should be avoided at all costs.
I don’t know. I just don’t know. Fuck.
“Oh, Heather, you should write, blah blah, you’ve got such a talent for it, but you shouldn’t write fanfics,” is something I’m sick to death of hearing.
I don’t know why I’m seemingly incapable of writing something original. Fanfics I can think up one after the other, no problem, but try to do something that’s your own and you hit a wall, you know?
So mom tells me just to change a few details. Oh, yes, I can see exactly how this is going to go. “Fuck-head and So-and-So had to go on an important mission to the land of Oogerbooger to destroy the Magical Necklace of The Goddess of Death, which, as every other bauble know to mankind, had some kind of horrible power and if it fell into the wrong hands the world was going to end. Or maybe it was a crystal… The Black Imperial Gemstone of Doom? Or how about the Baseball cap from Hell? Anyway, Fuck-Head and So-and-So met up with a Mysterious Stranger, and they fell into a trap, like, three times, before they finally destroy the thing. Oh, and by the way, one of them dies a heroic death so… yeah.”
Please, show me the originality.
I’m just pissed because I’m almost twenty and I have absolutely nothing to show for it, except for a few bad paintings. Well, they’re not bad. I consider them quite mediocre, just like everything else I do or have done. I’m not bad at anything, I’m just average, which we all know is worse than bad.
So fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I feel like crying but I’m not gonna because emotions don’t exist and anything pertaining to them is A) psychobabble or B) mumbo-jumbo, and should be avoided at all costs.
I don’t know. I just don’t know. Fuck.
