And though I had slain a thousand foes less one,
The thousandth knife found my liver;
The thousandth enemy said to me,
'Now you shall die,
Now none shall know.'
And the fool, looking down, believed this,
Not seeing, above his shoulders, the naked stars,
Each one remembering.
--John M. Ford, The Final Reflection

The Asylum Director

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"The only thing I was fit for was to be a writer, and this rested solely on my suspicion that I would never be fit for real work, and that writing didn't require any." - Russel Baker

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Cry. Scream. Die. Rinse. Repeat.

There are days when it just isn't worth the effort to get out of bed anymore...

This feels like one of them. It's Thursday and, to quote Arthur Dent (The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy), "I never could get the hang of Thursdays." Work is what it has become, as of late. Work. This, interestingly enough, is a seizure-inducingly bad thing. You see, my current project is about to be replaced with something that I know nothing about and, unlike my current project (which I knew nothing about when I started this whole mess), I thoroughly don't want to know anything about. There's a certain degree of incompetence involved in this management decision to put this new project on my plate (though I can't say I know when I'll be starting this torment), which I believe is proof enough that the higher up the chain of command you are, the more incompetent you are.

I think the words that best describe my daily thoughts on this matter are as follows:

"Another drab, dreary project with which to dull my creative skills. Joy."

Despite this, I am still here. One must wonder where I get this energy (or idiotic loyalty, depends on which of the voices in my head you ask) from. I suppose it stems from my innate desire to just keep writing, regardless of a majority of external factors. Yes, that's probably the case. Still, no words can possibly fathom the hatred I have for the people running the company I'm in. As I've said multiple times before, I'm underpaid, under-appreciated, overworked, and I'm damn tired of it. Right now, there are only a few things that give me comfort.

First, my little unconventional love story, Cecilia & Mint. I swear, not a single idea in that story is original. Then again, human beings stopped having original ideas a long time ago. Still, who would have thought I'd actually enjoy narrating that particular story? I mean, I'm crazy and all, but this story just explores the depths of how nuts I am, not to mention everyone else that's played an important role in my life. Still, I have the outline for this one set and, oddly, despite all the distractions and things that get in the way, I fully intend to finish it. Not an easy task, considering my writing of Chapter 8 is sluggish and I've got 60 chapters planned for this baby.

This is a love story I can really get into, oddly enough. There's hardly anything romantic about it, though some areas wax a little too philosophical for its own good. Still, I like writing the characters (particularly the currently nameless narrator, Cecilia, and Mint) and I feel comfortable tapping into the inner voices of my mind to characterize them. They give voice to my madness, which no fictional character really deserves to be burdened with. Days like this, I wish I could draw. Maybe then I'd add illustrations to the text, add that extra kick to it that I think would make it better. Oh well. Back to writing Chapter 8. At this rate, I'll be 45 before I finish the whole thing.

Second comfort in life would be the Haruhi Suzumiya series. Not since H2G2 have I felt so compelled to love a series of novels. There's a certain madness needed to actually enjoy these books at the obsessive level that I'm in, but they're worth it. Why? Because deep down, somewhere in our subconscious mind, every person out there has had dreams of being something like Haruhi Suzumiya. I'm inclined to think that, at one point, that boundless energy and imagination is something that all humans went through. Sure, the book can be a bit confusing to read sometimes, but the strain is worth it. Yes, Haruhiism is a great comfort to me.

Third is the idea that, at some point in my life, I'm going to get out of this mess I've walked right into. One day, I'm going to finally accomplish my goal of getting a novel out. I have no delusions of getting it into the New York Times Bestseller's list. Right now, I'd be content just to get a damn thing published. When that day comes, find me and shoot me, because I can die happy. I'm hoping it'll be Cecilia & Mint, but I'd be content if it was anything original I've written.

As pointed out by a friend of mine, I seem to have developed a fascination for characters portrayed (voiced) by Natsuki Kuwatani. Two roles of hers, in particular, stand out for me. Kanako Urashima of Love Hina Again (the OVA) and Ryoko Asakura of Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuutsu. A friend of mine, Tuxedo Jack, believes this fascination may eventually extend to include Kuwatani herself. Unlikely, as the only voice actresses I've ever found to my tastes are Aya Hirano and Maaya Sakamoto. Still, considering my mental state, I wouldn't put it past myself.

On a final note, election time is coming. Like my cousin, I have no intention of voting. Everyone knows the people casting the votes don't determine the election results. The people counting the votes do. Thank you for that overwhelmingly intelligent piece of wisdom, Joseph Stalin. However, I do plan on cruising the local vote-buyers and getting as much money out of them as possible. I could use the extra cash, honestly.

Now, I end with this paraphrased conversation from H2G2:

Marvin, the Paranoid Android: I have an intellect the size of a planet. Go ahead. Pick a number. Any number.

Mattress: Five.

Marvin, the Paranoid Android: Wrong. See?

And the mattress took that as a sign of great intelligence.


Horny Peter said...

Hahahaha! Ditto here! We got a fuckin' management! But the thing is, we can't get rid of them unless we leave this equally fucking company as well.

For the meantime, let's all make tiyaga na lang while kicking the management's ass. After all, we don't write for them naman.

Spongebabe said...

lol. nice post harvey. ^_^