Randomness

[brigdh]

I'm reading The Tale of Murasaki, by Liza Dalby, which is a great book. Very interesting, well-written, and fascinating portrait of Japan around 1000. (Which has some very curious tendencies- it's a huge deal for a man to see a woman's face, they're constantly hiding behind screen or curtains or fans, and yet there's all sorts of affairs and one-night-stands going on, and no one seems bothered by that. Also, women dye their teeth black. Um, gross.) Anyway, the novel's about Murasaki Shikibu, who wrote Tale of Genji (Which, if I remember my world history correctly, is the first novel ever written in all humanity).

But the neat part of the book is Murasaki's poetry that's included in the text. They're almost haikus, except they go 5,7,5,7,7 instead of 5,7,5. My favorite one so far has been:

I know, I know how quickly they fade, the dew and the morning glory both; yet knowledge doesn't serve to staunch my grief at the world's evanescence.

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My sociology class is in the exact same room as my Anthropology 401 class Spring quarter. There's got to be huge odds against that, considering there's over a hundred buildings on campus. Sure, some of them are dorms or commons or gyms, but still...

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I saw a dead bird today. I nearly stepped on it, actually- it was lying near the wall of a tall building. I assume it flew into a window and killed itself. But it was a tiny, tiny thing- I could have held two in one hand- and bright yellow. It was something tropical, a canary or parakeet- nothing from around here. I wonder if it was someone's pet that got loose.

Anyway. Poor thing. It was so small.

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My calendars won't stay on the wall. I have two- Spike, from BtVS, and the Sandman, by Neil Gaiman. I bought these little glue-square things these year to put posters up; they're like really sticky double-sided tape. But they can't hold the calendars, even though each one currently has about 11 of the squares on it.

I can't put thumbtacks into the wall, since the wall is solid brick. Any suggestions on how to get them to stay?

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I bought myself a set of oil paints today. I was buying my textbooks, and I thought, 'Why not?' I've never had real paints before- nothing more than the set of watercolors that you can get for two bucks at a Kroger's.

There's six colors: Cadmium Yellow Pale Hue, Permanent Alizarin Crimson, French Ultramarine, Phthalo Green, Yellow Ochre, and Titanium White. I'm far too amused by this. I'm such a little kid, I adore playing with crayons and colored pencils and paints.

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My textbooks also seem cool, though I only had to buy two, plus two novels. Having now actually been to all my classes, they all seem good. I think I'll like this quarter.

Unfortunately, I have a different professor for Biology this quarter than I did in the Spring, which is too bad, because I really liked that guy. The new one doesn't seem bad, though, and he said he's actually from the Department of Anthropology, which, being my major, is rather cool.

I seem to have a talent for randomly getting Anthropology professors, especially considering how freakin' small that college is. My Comparative Studies professor last Spring was one, too.

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It was cold, this morning, at 7:45am when I had to get up. I feel the need to share this. There were huge storms clouds in the south, steel-gray and metal-blue and low over the buildings of downtown. It didn't rain, though, and they'd gone away by the time I got out of my first class. I don't remember it raining while I was sleeping, either. Maybe they missed us entirely.

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I wanted sushi for lunch today, but alas, all of the three places I stopped at were either not yet open, out entirely, or only had yucky varieties left. So I had Wendy's. It's almost the same, really.

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I like making random entries. None of my thoughts is long enough to be a post by itself, by together they add up. Little images, a sentence or two out of a train of thought... nothing fleshed out beyond that one snapshot. Like haiku. Or drabbles.

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Speaking of drabbles...

I'm still in the mood to write, yet am still feeling unmotivated by ClubSoka. There's other projects I have in files on my computer- a sequel to Summer's Day, an unrelated PWP, a Muraki piece, a Hisoka introspective. But I do not want to write these either. I want something short, something simple, not something that’s going to need multiple drafts and betas and sending out to the lists.

I want… I’m not sure. lostmyskin‘s writing poetry, and I kind of want that. I want something vivid and lyrical and subtle and evocative, I want to hear running water in the sink and smell coffee, that strange little drip-drip-bubble-boil noise it makes when it’s percolating, I want to see sunlight on the kitchen table, the white kind of light that just looks pure and clean and that’s only around when it’s too early in the morning to be really awake. And I want Tsuzuki and Hisoka, of course. I want an established relationship fic for once- not that first times aren’t good, and I’ve written them myself, so obviously I have nothing against them- but there’s just so many of them. And nearly none that focus on the stuff that comes after that first time. Maybe I’m just missing them. Can anybody rec a good one?

But that’s what I want. I want conversations about laundry, and washing dishes, and sharing toothpaste, and “Tsuzuki, I don’t care what the tube says, there’s no way something that shade of pink can clean teeth.”

I want more than just the sex. I want… the life. The everyday sort of stuff. And that’s sort of what I tried to do with the drabble I posted yesterday, but… I don’t think it worked. I dunno. I’m not sure what I want. I’m not sure I’m really capable of doing all this, if it isn’t a bit of an excessive goal for a fanfic, for me.

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In my Sociology class today , we had to say something ‘interesting’ about ourselves. So, after listening to a class full of “Um… I like to run?” and “I was born in Michigan” and “I went to California over the summer”, I wanted to say something different.
So I told them I was trying to write a novel. For fun. Which, okay, is actually stretching the truth about the ClubSoka epic, but if you consider that it’s currently 10,000 words long- and probably 11,000 if you count the vignette from ‘5 Things’- and it’s only the third (fourth, counting vignette) scene, and that most novels end up at only 50,000 words- it’s really not too far off. But then I had to squish the entire plot down to a sentence or two, since the teacher asked what it was about, and that was quite a struggle to do without mentioning fanfic or “lots of sex!”

I said it was about a teenage boy from a very wealthy but dysfunctional family, who acts out and is depressed and rebellious.

She asked if it was based on real life, which surprised me, because do I look like a rich angsty teenage boy? And when I said no, she just laughed and said, “Not autobiographical, then.”

I’ve noticed that weird tendency with people who don’t write or read for pleasure, to assume everything is true. And it’s not that some things aren’t, because of course you have to write what you know, or at least what you’re capable of imagining. It really shows up in music- singers and groups are always getting asked, “So, who did you write that song about?” or “Were you depressed when you wrote this?” or “Is this song about your childhood?” And then there’s all the fervor over trying to guess who Alanis Morisette wrote “You Oughta Know” about, or who the person in that “You’re so Vain” song really is. And then there’s that Phil Collins song- I can’t remember what it’s called, but it’s about someone who sees a person drowning, and does nothing to help them- there’s a ton of urban legends surrounding that song, and about who the person drowning must have been.

Which is kind of strange, because most writers are quite capable of writing about a breakup without it being pulled word for word from the fight they had last week. So why do so many people assume that all fiction is just thinly disguised memories?

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Random thoughts. And somehow this post has gotten really long.

Comments

[katsue_fox]

No problems! I can understand you not wanting to share early versions of ficcage because I'm like that myself. I rarely even show pennypaperbrain anything until it's ready to be beta-ed, and she and I have been RL best friends for ten years!