I gave up and feel much better for it and I do not think I'll bother with it again. BOOYAH.

I'm going to hop along to youtube, listen to some debate videos (UPPING THE ATHEISTS, but I wish they wouldn't swear so much) and then dance along to some ragtime. I love the 1920s.

Had a monster of a headache yesterday... possibly the computer screen will bring it back but another deathly BORING day in bed will not do!

And I lost out on an interview last friday. How positively shy-making!

On the plus side, now I'm not nano-novelling, I have gone back to work on my Pantheon novel and possibly my poetry. Down beazy, down!

Project: National Novel Writing Month
Novel Name: The Pastel House (working title)
Word Goal: 50,000
Time Period: 30 days
Present Emotions:

Hurling myself in the thick of it, just like last year. And I fully expect to collapse in a heap once I reach that final word... 'The End' not included.

I finished last year, so why the hell shouldn't I do it again??

Raising last year's tragic main character from the grave... or should I say simply writing a new story entwined with his... More about artists and ideals, plus a general rant about housewifery and the uselessness of certain lives. And manic summer storms over the sea. It all makes sense in my head, promise.

Just to add to the frustration, I have an odd cold/throat infection that wont leave and makes it very hard to sleep. This could come in very handy for writing, but it seems at the end of November that I'll be even more wiped out than I was last time...

It doesn't help when ideas for two other stories (both of which I've been working on for at least three years) keep popping up. BEHAVE!!

But telling the various dark muses in my head to obey orders is like telling a dragon not to breath fire. Or a pirate not to dance the gallows jig. I've been listening to Nox Arcana recently- much dark fantasy, perfectly fitting my Evil Fairytales project.

Be-e-e--e-e-babbling. Feeling like I want to scream. Being a writer is extremely useful- whenever you're dreaming up some scenario for your character, you can just use them inside your head to get out some evil form of emotion! Just let them scream forever. Or giggle hysterically. Always makes me smile.

Just to update the journal. ANSWER OR DIE!!!

1. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
2. Am I lovable?
3. How long have you known me?
4. When and how did we first meet?
5. What was your first impression?
6. Do you still think that way about me now?
7. What do you think my weakness is?
8. Do you think I'll get married?
9. What makes me happy?
10. What makes me sad?
11. What reminds you of me?
12. If you could give me anything what would it be?
13. How well do you know me?
14. When's the last time you saw me?
15. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
16. Do you think I could kill someone?
17. Describe me in one word.
18. Do you think our friendship is getting stronger/weaker/or staying the same?
19. Do you feel that you could talk to me about anything and I would listen?
20. Are you going to put this on your journal and see what I say about you?

National Novel Writing Month [link] is here again and EXACTLY like last year, the book I've been planning for ages has decided not to be written this November. It will instead be replaced by yet another story whose first page I wrote randomly whilst trying to concentrate on something else.

It's a theme I've never used before. Housewifery. It's also stream of consciousness which basically means that any chapter planning is impossible. I simply know the beginning, end, the events in between and I simply have to keep writing until I hit the final page.

WAH. I let myself in for this every year, I swear...

In other news, I am feeling very very sick. Food is clearly not my friend today.

...that requires heavy metal, angry lyrics, but MELODY, rather than just painful pounding drums.

If it weren't for the lil babies sleeping next door, I'd have this music up so frickin' loud.

Not written anything for a week- no chapter plots, nothing that barely resembles poetry, no prose. Nada. Can't read. Been watching DVDs and organising room. ALOT. Physical work makes me forget. I can daydream, live in my own private world when all I'm doing is moving my limbs and heavy boxes.

Failed an interview, though apparently I am a 'lovely person.' No complaints at that, but I was so sure I would get it.

Add to that crrrrrrrrap with raised tempers, supposed 'adults' throwing tantrums and whining like children, getting into nasty, bitchy fights... not great. Hence the rock music. Because noise is good. It blocks out all the thoughts you don't want. And maybe turns one deaf if listened to much. But if that blocks out the voices downstairs, no problem!

Sounding dangerously close to a stereotype, I know.

There, I have vented. Sleepy. I know I take a while to comment, but I find I don't have the energy and I can't take in the art or poems that I read. So please don't take it personally. I just can't find the right mood.

Byes.