So...this is a blog. This is a record of my life.
by, 21st March 2009 at 12:13 AM (299 Views)
Huh. Never really had a blog before. Sorta an online journal, huh? All right.
Well, my life. What's there to say? I'm going to be 19 in exactly two months and two days, on May 22nd. I'm a college student, and affectionally called a "Poke-dork" by one of my best friends, henceforth known as Saru or Saru-chan. My first pokemon game was Yellow, and I got it back on Christmas of '99. That sentence sounds wrong...my inner grammar Nazi is rearing it's head. But I got it on Christmas, at any rate, in the year 1999.
I'm not even 20 and already I feel old. My life's goal is to become an author -- a novelist on par with J.K. Rowling, J.R.R. Tolkien, Dan Brown, Dean Koontz, who are some of my favorite authors. Least favorite has got to be Stephanie Meyer and her gods-damned Twilight series. Their success depresses me. I've read all the books. They are surpassed in their shoddy quality only by one work of fan fiction I read a couple years back now, authored by one LordVurtaxADV, who is no longer a member of this forum (at least, not under that name).
But it's selling. It's making money. It's successful. Whatever I write, I'll have to dumb down, or completely change, because writing is now a business. It's impossible for a writer to simply be someone who writes. There is a business aspect -- they must be able to sell their book to an editor, who in turn must sell it to a publishing company. And the publishing company or even the editor won't buy if they don't think the manuscript will sell. It's all about the money, and that depresses me. Non-existent plots, shallow, cliche characters, and riding the current fad are what sells.
Plot doesn't matter. Stories doesn't matter. Meaningful dialogue or thoughts delivered by deep, three-dimensional characters don't matter. There's no attention span for backstories that take more than a few paragraphs to tell. Sub-plots are too complex. Undercurrents. Tones. Messages. The public is blind to the story between the lines. Everything must be neatly summed up in the end, with a simple, concise explanation. If it's not, then it will in the sequel, or at the end of the series. But still, the smaller conflict in each book must be resolved at it's end.
Sure, there are successful works that are true pieces of writing, rather than just mindless trash. How often do you hear about them, though? Not nearly as often as you hear about something like Twilight. Twilight can be marketed in a way these other, deeper, altogether better novels simply cannot. Thus, we may never hear about these other works.
Enough with my writing rant...it's probably much less interesting or substantial than I think it is. What else is there to say about me? I used to be in a relationship. An internet one. My boyfriend lives in Ohio, whereas I live in southern California, was only available through the internet. Sometimes over the phone. Oh god, I don't even know if 'lives' is the right word anymore...
Just over a month ago, on February 17th, he disappeared. No warning. No message. Nothing. At first, I didn't think much of it. 'He has a life,' I reasoned. I felt it selfish of myself to expect him to be committed to getting to a computer every single night. As the days wore on, however, I began to get worried. I called, leaving him a few messages. He never picked up. Never returned my calls, either. That was my first big clue...it was -- is so completely unlike him to not, at the very least, call me back to leave a message in response about him being gone.
I waited. I hoped. His AIM logo, which was usually a constant presence due to his phone having wireless internet capabilities (though it would show that he did not have a strong enough signal to connect and was therefore not online), disappeared. I waited some more. I began to worry more. What if he was in an accident? What if one of his grandparents had died? I left some more messages, growing increasingly desperate to reach him.
Meanwhile, my life went on. One of my three Boston Terriers underwent eye surgery. Schoolwork. My own grandmother, my last remaining grandparent, died. I wasn't able to attend her funeral because I had an essay due. I also had to prepare for finals. Still, I got no response.
I finally grew desperate enough to go to his Facebook page and contact one of his friends. The only one I was able to send a message to was a girl who, according to her, hadn't talked to him in over two years. She checked the local paper. She texted an old ex of his. I believe she even called his mother (he lived with his grandparents). Even she couldn't find anything, though she was the first to tell me that she wasn't the best person to ask. Days later, I discover that his Facebook page no longer exists.
I gave him a deadline. If he hadn't contacted my by the time I got out of my evening final on Monday, the 16th of this month, I would call him one last time. Sure enough, despite the fact that Saru saw him get online for a moment that morning, but got off before she could talk to him, I had received no contact. So, my voice as steady as I could make it, I picked up my phone on Monday evening and dialed his number, praying that he would, against all odds, pick up and save me from having to break up with him.
God, if He exists, has a cruel sense of humor.
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