theashone

Happy: Happy New Year!

Grumpy: Happy Blah Blah. It means nothing. It's just another day.

Happy: It's a celebration. A celebration of a new start, new way of doing things, new year's resolutions, a new chapter in your life.

Grumpy: Another year gone, another year closer to death.

Happy: What's wrong with you?

Grumpy: I'm getting older, I'm losing hair, women don't think the grey in my stubble is attractive, and I hate my job. Music that once inspired me is now tired, and the same, and boring. Kids, you can scream about rebellion all you like - "we kids have a voice" - shut up, you have no voice. Get a job, pay taxes, then lets talk about that bloody voice. Until then, GO TO YOUR ROOM! I am getting moody. I am irritated by the lack of politeness in this world. "Hey Lady, I opened the door so you could pass through, how about a little courtesy back and say thank you, you ugly cow!" And I know that in a short while I'll be old. But I won't be able to retire because the government (enter country here) has messed up the pension scheme, so now I will retire when I am 75 as opposed to 65. I'll be dead before I retire.

Happy: You have succeeded in depressing me. F@#k off!

Grumpy: Happy new year to you, too.

Headed to the sales. It was manic. Of course, I couldn't find anything I wanted - lots of things I liked, but nothing I actually wanted. The things I did want, were not on sale. So that was a waste. But it amazed me today to see how rude people are becoming. No-one says thank you, or gives you the appreciation nod. For example, I stopped to let numerous people walk by - opening doors, standing aside in narrow isles - but no-one said 'thanks'. People just walked on by as if I'm their slave or servant. My immediate reaction: screw you! But now, after a few hours have passed, I realise...I am better than them.

I appreciate people.

I am considerate to those around me.

I'm not weak, push me and expect to be pushed back. But I won't react without reason, without trying to understand why someone acted the way they did. Bad manners? I can see no reason for it. We're all pretty clued up now. We all know that its important to say 'thanks' when someone does something for you. To not give thanks, to simply ignore the other person, is well rude. I pity these people. But also live in hope. Maybe good manners will come back into fashion. And when it does, consider me the Armani, Chanel, and Boss of it all. 

I am going to be a famous writer.

I am going to be known for my books, movies and television shows.

I have decided this, and so it shall be done.

The problem is...writing a novel just takes so damn long! I have the drive and the determination but, having reached page 100, I am struggling. I know what the story is, and I know how my plot works. I am excited about the project, but....writing is just so time consuming. I know its supposed to take time and its supposed to take discipline, but what with my social engagements, work and family, actually sitting on a computer (especially after 9 hours at work looking at a pc) is just so hard.

When I finally do hit the computer, I have to check my emails. Then, I am alerted to a news story that I just have to read. What's that? Britneys gone and flashed again? Jeez, I need to check that story out. Huh? There's a new Batman trailer out - dude, that needs to be seen! Say what? A new version of the ipod? You're darn right I'm hitting that sight!

I mean, I should be writing now. Right? But no, I'm on Livejournal, writing this.

I need to get focused. But it's hard. Why? I have no idea. Maybe it's because I know that after slaving for many months writing this novel, no-one is going to give a damn. Maybe I know that after I send it to a publisher, it will remain on the 'slush pile' for a few weeks until some backpacker from Australia hired by the publisher will read it and toss it in the garbage - because it doesn't tick all the boxes in the 'readers template.'  Maybe it's because I will try my best to write something fun, but won't get the recognition I feel the work deserves. And then, I will read some story about some dumb-ass kid who sold his book for millions when he was 10 (Eragon anyone) only 'cos his parents were editors, or agents, or some crap like that!

Maybe I am a cynic.

Maybe I need a lie down.

Maybe I need to quit time-wasting, and just write. Forget about whether it sells. Just get it written. Because that's what I want to be. Because that's who I want to be. A writer. A writer who finishes his work.  And one who entertains whilst doing it.

Namaste. Ciao. And see ya.
A