even fictional rafts get destroyed sometimes.

so today is wednesday. how do we feel about wednesdays? wednesdays. wed-nes-day. old norse.

the topic at hand is: that in all aspects this job is interfering with my life- for instance one of my writing friends just had to pull an intervention, concluding that perhaps depression and perhaps something horribly wrong, would keep me from my novel project because she hasn't heard from me in a month... but no. sadly it's just this job. this bless'ed job. but as much as i love it, it confines, you know. it makes diligence a word i need to use in order to... get whatever it is i'm suppose to be doing done. which is usually creative. the other day i was watching a gallery show about an artist and i went to bed thinking I'm going to die if I don't paint. i turned over in the dark and scrawled PAINT bcs my subconscious didn't want it's more forgetful brother, conscious, to forget. so the next day I embarked on some art projects: put stuff on matts, cleared off the walls of old paintings that are done, reorganized my portfolios and started work on a canvas. so now i'm prepared to paint.

now why can't i do that when it comes to writing. i should be able to read virgina woolf and say, I'm going to die if i don't write. although admittedly the nagging of non-accomplishment, as in being novel-less is like a plague and it probably will lead to death one day, probably like a long term quiet illness. if one can be quiet when one is dying and i think one can. where as dying of not playing with paint is a more turbulent death and can be more immediately satisfied to avert said death unless your an alcoholic maybe or a manic depressive and even then. so i suppose one must be aware of the symptoms. certainly blogging for little or no amount of time is an indication of one's mind being elsewhere or being infected with mold or termites... perhaps water-logged and currently being washed ashore on reality television.


((stay tuned for what else is being interfered with bcs of day to day employment))

i find them quite useful, myself

especially as i delve deeper (read: get sucked deeper) into the exciting world of Customer Service, exclamation points have been coming out my ears.

 

exclamation points convey Extroverted Enthusiasm, which, while i agree falls into the nauseating, laughably fake realm of "gee, that's thuper!!!!" is unfortunately valued highly by our society. therefore the exclamation point can and should be wielded as more of a weapon, a tool to worm your way into the heart of whoever. an angry and/or obnoxious customer, a hostile co-worker, the CEO. keeping in mind that the exclamation point potentially holds as much sarcasm as it does enthuthiathm.

 

also, while tone can be a hard thing to reflect in written forums such as email, the exclamation point can be a most excellent provider of the peak to the period's valley. and why bash question marks, so much? indeed there is a fine line between proper, sophisticated usage and stomach-turning overuse. however, the wisely chosen exclamation point and/or question mark can help convey how you are really feeling, or in craftier instances, exactly how you are not.

 

in conclusion, always be the best spartan cheerleader you can be!!!!

woohoo!!!!!

all RIGHT!!!!

exclamation points!

why i wouldn't mind if you never felt like using !! again.

I have never been one for exclamation points. i have always felt them to be a trite indicator of emotion. and i used to have a friend who over used them all the time. like, i can't believe you never told me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and she'd have at least four sentences just like that one as if her finger was permantently glued to SHIFT 1. it says less than just the one! don't you think. like when i read them i read them sarcastically- a proper context would be "Thuuuper, thaanks for ath-king!!" or "I love my job!" but to use them in a sincere way seems to invite either derisive comments or- I guess it depends on if the person thinks your sincere, like, "I fucking hate you!" I can't take that sarcastically can i?

anyway i'm losing grasp of my original point but i feel the same way about question marks. i really don't like to use them at all. like a question mark is an up beat. so if i were to say, I can't take that sarcastically can i. that's a down beat. perhaps i don't like to end my sentances on up beats! a raise in the voice. a wha?? who?? wha!! who!!
wha. who. now that's better.

perhaps though i'm a depressed and unenthused individual. like logging for a month now and i've missed the blog and felt a disservice for neglecting it so. but no, i've always hated anything but periods. i'm also fond of dashes -- and elipses though sentimental . . . as i have always loved you . . . until a professor said i overused them, like my proponderance of shakespeare quotes. . . and i had to stop-

the -

dramatic pauses-

. . .and the lamenting sighs.

. . .

and thus was born my love of dashes say i.

life after Superbowl Sunday

I wake up today and instantly, life seems bleak. Not because the Superbowl is over, not because the underdog has lost. I don't really care a fig about football.

 

I don't care a fig: Why don't people say that anymore?

 

At some point life has just gotten grumpy. I used to take pleasure in small things like grocery shopping and the movies in my Netflix queue. I used to look forward not to work, but at least those hours after work. And the ones on the weekend, however quickly they might fly by.  

 

I even have a writing project. I have a few projects going, if you count the sitcom script and the claymation movies, which you surely should.

 

Spring is almost here, that is good.

 

I love daffodils, and in North Carolina, daffodils pop in February.

 

I even love Groundhog Day, just because.

 

And Valentine's is coming up, and despite that we have no money, we have a gift certificate to a restaurant that will assist in us having a fine feast. Also there is a concert at the Soapbox laudry lounge, Donovan Frankenreiter, and we love him, and the tickets were ultra cheap.

 

The fact that we don't have any money is depressing, but it's really no different than last month, the month before, or anyone else's lives that we know for that matter.

 

"Lost" is new this week.

 

"Survivor" starts next week, for pete's sake.

 

Yet using exclamation points in either writing or speech feels...

simply...

painful.

And I cannot do it.

 

Blog, blog, blog, blog, BLAHG.

Gilmore Girls

last night i concluded that the scripts are written by drunk people.

of course, this moment occurred after drinking 2 very large glasses of something French.

and before i set the glass down on the table so hard it left me holding just the glass and the broken stem.

but, i'm telling you, it all just made SENSE.