So much for a month of bloggery right?
At least I have an excuse this time - I'm back in the real world as a full-time worker bee person.
I'm at a very exciting and forward-thinking company now, and it's getting me thinking about all sorts of new ideas for my own writing / creative pursuits. Problem is: following through. It's a bitch.
So if you have any ideas on how to NOT give up on things, leave them in the comments. Which I will totally read all the way through. Promise.
Sunday, July 20
Friday, July 4
Poltergeists vs. kitchen scissors
"You're all gonna die in there! All of you! You are gonna die!" - Kane, Poltergeist II.
Poltergeist II was a really bad movie.
I pulled that poetic quote from IMDb because I have almost no memory of Poltergeist II. I watched it when I was about seven or eight years old. It was a textbook case of I-wanna-watch-this-because-I'm-brave-no-wait-dear-God-this-is-traumatizing-I'll-stop-watching-before-I-get-scarred-forever-too-late.
Fast forward almost two decades, and this is what I've spent my late evening tweeting:
Aaand we're back to regularly scheduled programming.
Poltergiest II probably didn't break my brain and turn me from a rowdy, confident kid into a ball of anxiety who couldn't be left in a room alone. But it certainly didn't help. Something about the way a normal big-haired 80's family had their everyday life invaded by unexpected, sticky, horrible things definitely stuck with me.
And today's Writers' Boot Camp prompt is "one of my greatest fears."
So my biggest fear - well, besides the existential stuff like never making a mark on the world - certainly my biggest-by-volume fear is the strange intruding on the familiar. A sudden grab, an unexpected voice, a pair of blinking unfamiliar eyes looming in the dark. Typical Stephen King stuff.
You know they say people spend most of their lives worrying about stuff that'll never happen? Maybe. But come on. If there were a psycho in my shower, I'd rather slam on the lights and walk confidently into the room holding kitchen scissors than just kinda assume everything will be fine.
Psychos are shit-scared of kitchen scissors. Everyone knows that.
Poltergeist II was a really bad movie.
I pulled that poetic quote from IMDb because I have almost no memory of Poltergeist II. I watched it when I was about seven or eight years old. It was a textbook case of I-wanna-watch-this-because-I'm-brave-no-wait-dear-God-this-is-traumatizing-I'll-stop-watching-before-I-get-scarred-forever-too-late.
Fast forward almost two decades, and this is what I've spent my late evening tweeting:
I could never live alone. Coming home to an empty house = murderers in every room until inspection proves otherwise.
— Dasia (@awkwardoptimist) July 3, 2014
Full disclosure: I started tweeting to distract myself because by then I needed to pee.
I am currently in the well-lit lounge looking at hedgehog gifs on my phone, working up the nerve to go down the hall / face demon murderer
— Dasia (@awkwardoptimist) July 3, 2014
In my mind, murderers and demons are interchangeable and equally plausible threats.
So I got home 15 minutes ago, if there were psychos here they would've come out by now right? I even asked them to
— Dasia (@awkwardoptimist) July 3, 2014
My exact words were, "Uh, so if there are any murderers or rapists around, could you make yourself known? Thanks..." and then legitimately waiting for a response. Holding kitchen scissors. I went for kitchen scissors because I felt like a knife was just overly dramatic, and if someone walked in on me I could always suddenly pretend to be making a salad or something.
Man if I really do get murdered tonight, these tweets are SO getting me on Buzzfeed
— Dasia (@awkwardoptimist) July 3, 2014
Girl Has Most Ironic Death Ever.
Now I feel like I should keep tweeting to prove I'm not dead. Oh wait, that's how I always feel!
— Dasia (@awkwardoptimist) July 3, 2014
Aaand we're back to regularly scheduled programming.
Poltergiest II probably didn't break my brain and turn me from a rowdy, confident kid into a ball of anxiety who couldn't be left in a room alone. But it certainly didn't help. Something about the way a normal big-haired 80's family had their everyday life invaded by unexpected, sticky, horrible things definitely stuck with me.
And today's Writers' Boot Camp prompt is "one of my greatest fears."
So my biggest fear - well, besides the existential stuff like never making a mark on the world - certainly my biggest-by-volume fear is the strange intruding on the familiar. A sudden grab, an unexpected voice, a pair of blinking unfamiliar eyes looming in the dark. Typical Stephen King stuff.
You know they say people spend most of their lives worrying about stuff that'll never happen? Maybe. But come on. If there were a psycho in my shower, I'd rather slam on the lights and walk confidently into the room holding kitchen scissors than just kinda assume everything will be fine.
Psychos are shit-scared of kitchen scissors. Everyone knows that.
Wednesday, July 2
And when I see how sad you are, it sorta makes me happy
Long-time readers of this blog may remember that I've discussed my favourite words before, which led to a tiny meme, hilariously odd offshoot posts and my blog ranking quite highly on Google for the keyphrase "Benedict Cumberbatch weequashing."
But it's been two years since that post, and my Writers' Boot Camp challenge today is to list my top five favourite words. So, putting aside Benedict Cumberbatch weequashing in crisp twilight (for just a minute) here they are. In no particular order.
Just
Just like, just let me tell you this one thing. It's just that I just love the word just and I just can't help myself when I'm just writing or whatever to just slip justs in wherever they just might be.
Editing for me isjust about 80% just-removal. And 15% wondering why I didn't just study engineering so I could just have a real job by now. And just 5% actual work.
What is it about the word 'just' that's so appealing to my unconscious brain? Is it a verbal act of minimizing, making my words and ideas smaller and less significant, (it's not an idea, it's just an idea)? Or maybe it's about justice, stating that my words are fair and just and RIGHT.
Whatever the root, it'sjust annoying.
Direwolf
Yes, I've been watching a lot of Game of Thrones. And I'd probably be a Stark because I enjoy bulky layers and I'm really rubbish at staying alive. But come on, doesn't the word direwolf send a shiver down your spine? Doesn't it instantly invoke fear, respect and awe?
Also, you can buy a direwolf now. Okay, you can buy a giant grey Alsatian, but STILL.
Facetious
Means "treating serious issues with deliberately inappropriate humour." Which is what I do best. I was never quite sure what this meant until about a year ago, and now it's one of my favourite words. It feels really fun to say. FUH SEE SHUSS. You could definitely incorporate that into a killer rap. Also, it's fun to just drop it into casual conversation when you can tell the other person isn't QUITE sure what it means but just kinda rolls with it and pretends that they do.
Schadenfreude
Just listen to this. I can't really make a stronger case for this beautifully cruel German word. The title of this post is from the opening lines of this song. I'll be forever grateful to Ali for introducing me to Avenue Q.
Monkey
Pet names are gross, aren't they? Love is gross. Gross and awesome. (Don't worry, I have an equally ridiculous pet name for him.)
So I guess my favourite sentence would be something like "Not to be facetious, but I just get schadenfreude when that monkey just rides his direwolf."
But it's been two years since that post, and my Writers' Boot Camp challenge today is to list my top five favourite words. So, putting aside Benedict Cumberbatch weequashing in crisp twilight (for just a minute) here they are. In no particular order.
Just
Just like, just let me tell you this one thing. It's just that I just love the word just and I just can't help myself when I'm just writing or whatever to just slip justs in wherever they just might be.
Editing for me is
What is it about the word 'just' that's so appealing to my unconscious brain? Is it a verbal act of minimizing, making my words and ideas smaller and less significant, (it's not an idea, it's just an idea)? Or maybe it's about justice, stating that my words are fair and just and RIGHT.
Whatever the root, it's
Direwolf
Yes, I've been watching a lot of Game of Thrones. And I'd probably be a Stark because I enjoy bulky layers and I'm really rubbish at staying alive. But come on, doesn't the word direwolf send a shiver down your spine? Doesn't it instantly invoke fear, respect and awe?
 |
| Who's a bloodthirsty puppy? Who's an awe-inspiring fluff? You are! Yes you are! |
Facetious
Means "treating serious issues with deliberately inappropriate humour." Which is what I do best. I was never quite sure what this meant until about a year ago, and now it's one of my favourite words. It feels really fun to say. FUH SEE SHUSS. You could definitely incorporate that into a killer rap. Also, it's fun to just drop it into casual conversation when you can tell the other person isn't QUITE sure what it means but just kinda rolls with it and pretends that they do.
Schadenfreude
Just listen to this. I can't really make a stronger case for this beautifully cruel German word. The title of this post is from the opening lines of this song. I'll be forever grateful to Ali for introducing me to Avenue Q.
Monkey
Pet names are gross, aren't they? Love is gross. Gross and awesome. (Don't worry, I have an equally ridiculous pet name for him.)
So I guess my favourite sentence would be something like "Not to be facetious, but I just get schadenfreude when that monkey just rides his direwolf."
 |
| THEY CALL HIM THE YOUNG WOLF. |
Tuesday, July 1
A blogging challenge and deathbed confessions
It's July! I'm still reminding myself to buy 2013's Christmas presents. How is it July even.
The lovely Roxana, with whom I used to work, has invited me to join Writers' Boot Camp this month. That means 60 minutes of blogging for every day in July.
I'm not usually up for these meme-like challenges, but looking through the posts people have already put up today, I got all inspired and I figured - why the hell not? (Which is obviously how all great creative ventures start.)
So here goes. Day one's topic:
Even if you know me well, you don't know this.
I have freckles!
Wait...
I'm awkward!
Um...
I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die?
Sorry internet, I have no deathbed (blogbed?) confessions. I'm incredibly lucky to have a handful of truly close, loving relationships and if you know me well - then - here I am! (Don't tread on me.)
But obviously, I'd like to share something in this post. So here it is - not a confession so much as a question mark, a parallel universe, a what-if.
I've always wondered if I could have made it in the performing arts.
I understand if that dorky little thought made you chuckle. If you know me, you know I'm one of the most awkward, self-conscious people in the world. I can barely make eye contact with people, and I can't remember a time when anxiety wasn't my constant companion. That's why I love writing! You can backspace, edit, and construct a confident tone even if you actually feel like your insides are being microwaved.
So you might wonder why on earth I'd think performance wouldn't be my worst nightmare.
You know what's weird? Probably my favourite memory from high school was being a co-MC of our grade eight play. I was on stage for maybe a minute, I messed up, and afterwards someone told me I sucked - but it was SO MUCH FUN. I felt completely at home on that stage. I laughed off my mistake and a hall full of bored parents even cheered for us! I mean, how cool is that?
If some angelic sponsor descended into my life and let me go back to varsity for another degree, I'd study drama or music. Maybe it's the compelling secret urge of every insecure introvert to be the centre of attention. Maybe I would just love more storytelling skills. It's probably a little bit of both. With a massive wad of Gen Y entitlement to fame and fortune stuck in the middle.
So there it is, something you probably didn't know about me! It's not so much a regret - I don't honestly think I would be incredible at acting, or singing, or stand-up - but it's a little something about me that I don't usually share.
I've always toyed with the idea of having a youtube channel, and discovering Anna Akana has re-ignited that urge. But I honestly don't know what I could do with video that I couldn't do better with writing. Except maybe karaoke. And drunk makeup tutorials. And drunk karaoke.
Wait, all karaoke is drunk.
Nevermind.
The lovely Roxana, with whom I used to work, has invited me to join Writers' Boot Camp this month. That means 60 minutes of blogging for every day in July.
I'm not usually up for these meme-like challenges, but looking through the posts people have already put up today, I got all inspired and I figured - why the hell not? (Which is obviously how all great creative ventures start.)
So here goes. Day one's topic:
Even if you know me well, you don't know this.
I have freckles!
Wait...
I'm awkward!
Um...
I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die?
Sorry internet, I have no deathbed (blogbed?) confessions. I'm incredibly lucky to have a handful of truly close, loving relationships and if you know me well - then - here I am! (Don't tread on me.)
But obviously, I'd like to share something in this post. So here it is - not a confession so much as a question mark, a parallel universe, a what-if.
I've always wondered if I could have made it in the performing arts.
I understand if that dorky little thought made you chuckle. If you know me, you know I'm one of the most awkward, self-conscious people in the world. I can barely make eye contact with people, and I can't remember a time when anxiety wasn't my constant companion. That's why I love writing! You can backspace, edit, and construct a confident tone even if you actually feel like your insides are being microwaved.
So you might wonder why on earth I'd think performance wouldn't be my worst nightmare.
You know what's weird? Probably my favourite memory from high school was being a co-MC of our grade eight play. I was on stage for maybe a minute, I messed up, and afterwards someone told me I sucked - but it was SO MUCH FUN. I felt completely at home on that stage. I laughed off my mistake and a hall full of bored parents even cheered for us! I mean, how cool is that?
If some angelic sponsor descended into my life and let me go back to varsity for another degree, I'd study drama or music. Maybe it's the compelling secret urge of every insecure introvert to be the centre of attention. Maybe I would just love more storytelling skills. It's probably a little bit of both. With a massive wad of Gen Y entitlement to fame and fortune stuck in the middle.
So there it is, something you probably didn't know about me! It's not so much a regret - I don't honestly think I would be incredible at acting, or singing, or stand-up - but it's a little something about me that I don't usually share.
I've always toyed with the idea of having a youtube channel, and discovering Anna Akana has re-ignited that urge. But I honestly don't know what I could do with video that I couldn't do better with writing. Except maybe karaoke. And drunk makeup tutorials. And drunk karaoke.
Wait, all karaoke is drunk.
Nevermind.
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