Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Lunch Hour Ooga Booga

I post more than anyone else I subscribe to. Well, usually I suppose. I just like to write. I write and write and write. I have always wanted to be an author. But every time I begin a story I find myself hating it. With a passion. Basically I don't want to write anything that I would not enjoy reading. And everything I write is poo-dins. We write from our knowledge base, right? Well, I'm 22 and haven't lived a lot of life. So my specialty at this time of life would be everything college and under. Poo-Dins. Capital P capital D. Everything set in that span of life is either children's books (which are a hard sell) or pre-teeny romance mush (which is ridiculous) or sci fi (which would be a full time job in and of itself, to create my own world). Sigh. I'm hoping that once motherhood comes I can foster my creativity and spend more time figuring out story lines. I compare myself to the greats and wish I could write something nearly so wonderful. By "greats" I mean my personal favorites, which I think the world considers great as well. Jane Austen, of course, most British Literature actually- I wish I lived in that time frame. Everything seems so much more romantical, but of course, it really wasn't when you think about it. But since we're in the here and now, it seems much better. J.K. Rowling- I am actually getting out of my Harry Potter phase. It came quite suddenly and I actually kind of miss my passion- but she came up with an original idea that was great for every age. And it's become a multi-million dollar industry! They're building a theme park in Orlando! Amazing. To come with an original idea like that and have seven sequential books that only got better with time... amazing. Orson Scott Card, again, came up with his own world. Several worlds actually. And I can read the books over and over again without ever getting bored and always learning something new. That is along the same likes as Steven Spielberg's genius with Star Wars- and Indiana Jones for that matter. Genius. That is the key. To have genius. And I don't have it... at least not yet. It's a work in progress. Can genius be learned? Or does it have to come naturally?

I could list more authors I aspire to be like someday, but that was quite a lengthy paragraph. Enough on that topic.

I have decided that I personally don't care too much for flip flops. I feel like they look sloppy and are annoying because either they're slapping your feet or getting stepped on by the person behind you. Or they get twisted around and stub your toes. Annoying. I also don't care for how they look. Sure, at the beach a good pairs of havaianas is a necessity, but for every day walking and living I prefer flats or sandals. I am very partial to the gladiator-esque sandals. I don't like the ones that wrap entirely around the ankle, but I like the ones with straps around the entire foot. So cute and stylish. Much better than flips. But, I will still wear flips because they're so much more convenient. Maybe someday they will only be beach shoes to me.

I have also decided that I am not fond of jeans any longer. Of course, I'll probably wear them every day of my life. But specifically jean shorts. I just don't like them. I think other pants, skirts, or dresses are just so much "prettier". But of course, jeans are kind of a necessity to everyday wardrobe. Sigh. I still think jeans are very comfortably, but maybe someday I'll only wear "dress up/ professional clothes" all the time. Not likely since children spill and stain and basically ruin clothes. Again, sigh.

Yes, I have been thinking about this.

One last thought. Sunday night I was trying to fall asleep. I was almost completely out and was having a few half-dreams. Where I'm still partially awake but mostly asleep. I was dreaming I was at work and I couldn't remember the correct words to say what I was thinking. It was so frustrating. Matt eventually came in the room to see what I was doing. He thought I was on the phone with someone! Yes, I was talking out loud and it sounded just a garbled and nonsensical as in my dream! Ridiculous. When he asked me what I was doing I just stared at him. I was thinking, "I'm going through the call flow! Duh!" Then realized I was at home. in bed, and didn't have to go to work for another 6 hours. Yes, I occasionally talk in my sleep. Poor husband.

Almost the end of lunch. The end.

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