Harsh, warm light radiated from the window to his right. He could feel the heat on his closed eyelids. The combination of the gentle warmth and the silky sheets he was wrapped in made his wait a very relaxing one.
And then the writer suddenly lost interest.. Human 2.0 was trapped in a couple paragraphs, forever locked in a small room, on his bed, waiting for his arm to connect.
I think I have writer's block. I haven't written a story in a while, so it's kind of hard to come up with new ideas and stuff. The skill must be exercised.
Friday, May 8, 2015
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Missed a Day
I missed a day. Maybe I'll make up for it. Alright. Now to begin.
I think I want to organize this thing into a few main events, and then work from there. So first I have to come up wit an idea. That's really the hard part. I always come up with horrific cliches first, when I'm trying to come up with a story idea. I won't even bother to write those down. I think it should be something...relatable. But not so much that it's just a slice of life story. Dunno though. Slice of life might be the way to go. I'm picturing a forest. Lots of trees. Tall ones, too. Something like maybe a cross between a game of tag and paintball with real bullets. Or..maybe bows or someth--Nope, that's the Hunger Games. Maybe it should take place in somebody's mind. maybe two minds. Maybe a battle of minds, or perception, or something. Or maybe it should have something to do with robots. Or transhumanism. Ah. I like where this is going.
Just a quick sketch of what I'm thinking. It's pretty horrible, I know. I didn't put a whole lot of effort into it. That contact looking think up top is like a skin for the electronic eye pictured to it's right. The gray matrix in the arm is supposed to look kind of like silicone or something. Ahright. Now I will try to just write it out.
Human 2.0 fit the smooth hemisphere to a dip in his exposed scapula. He held the new arm against his shoulder as the gel between natural bone and the stuff grown in a lab became harder, to simulate a joint. Blood vessels reconnected, guided by markings in the individual cells. The feeling was strange. Like an insect was moving around under his skin. Not entirely pleasant.
It was stable enough to let go of now. He lay down in his bed wait through the remaining forty minutes he had until the connection was complete and seamless. In an earlier upgrade, he had tried to read, but found it...Difficult to concentrate. After he had read the first four pages over again several times, he just set the book down, closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Harsh, warm light radiated from the window to his right. He could feel the heat on his closed eyelids. The combination of the gentle warmth and the silky sheets he was wrapped in made his wait a very relaxing one.
AAAND....Now I'll stop for the day. I can feel my writing getting clumsier from lack of good descriptive language and stuff, so I'll resume tomorrow and see if I'm better. If I'm not, I'll just have to push through and see what I get.
I think I want to organize this thing into a few main events, and then work from there. So first I have to come up wit an idea. That's really the hard part. I always come up with horrific cliches first, when I'm trying to come up with a story idea. I won't even bother to write those down. I think it should be something...relatable. But not so much that it's just a slice of life story. Dunno though. Slice of life might be the way to go. I'm picturing a forest. Lots of trees. Tall ones, too. Something like maybe a cross between a game of tag and paintball with real bullets. Or..maybe bows or someth--Nope, that's the Hunger Games. Maybe it should take place in somebody's mind. maybe two minds. Maybe a battle of minds, or perception, or something. Or maybe it should have something to do with robots. Or transhumanism. Ah. I like where this is going.
Human 2.0 fit the smooth hemisphere to a dip in his exposed scapula. He held the new arm against his shoulder as the gel between natural bone and the stuff grown in a lab became harder, to simulate a joint. Blood vessels reconnected, guided by markings in the individual cells. The feeling was strange. Like an insect was moving around under his skin. Not entirely pleasant.
It was stable enough to let go of now. He lay down in his bed wait through the remaining forty minutes he had until the connection was complete and seamless. In an earlier upgrade, he had tried to read, but found it...Difficult to concentrate. After he had read the first four pages over again several times, he just set the book down, closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Harsh, warm light radiated from the window to his right. He could feel the heat on his closed eyelids. The combination of the gentle warmth and the silky sheets he was wrapped in made his wait a very relaxing one.
AAAND....Now I'll stop for the day. I can feel my writing getting clumsier from lack of good descriptive language and stuff, so I'll resume tomorrow and see if I'm better. If I'm not, I'll just have to push through and see what I get.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Commitment
My school is just about over. I have an assignment to do. It is a commitment to write for ten minutes each day for two weeks, starting today. So, I think I will begin work on a new short story. And I promise--I will finish this one. This is just sad. -_- Like talking to a brick wall. But the good thing about that is, I can say whatever I want. That also has it's drawbacks though. So, this is going to start out looking really rough. I'll just type up any ideas I have and then publish them all as soon as ten minutes have passed and I'm done. This should be fun. This blog is like a journal. But without all those sketches in the margins. I must work on that. Maybe I should start drawing all the illustrations.(I think they're pretty important in a blog, if the story goes on and on. Kind of gives a rest, does all the visualizing work for you for a scene or two.)
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
It's my own fault anyway. Nobody to blame but myself.
I don't know quite what this was supposed to be. I wanted to express my present feelings and this is what came out of that. Stop laughing. As you can probably discern, my fingers are getting worse. It almost looked like they were looking better. Guess not. :/ Alright, this is the last bit of...Writing about me. I'm kind of feeling a new story idea coming on.
Gradually
Into my mind it's creeping
Only fine when I'm sleeping
It all rose from a sting
I've got no time for this
Don't have the mind for this
Why won't it just go
Driving me crazy
Typing's no more for the lazy
I'm kind of sick, my mind's hazy
Maybe
Yep, I've got contact dermatosis.
Gradually
Into my mind it's creeping
Only fine when I'm sleeping
It all rose from a sting
I've got no time for this
Don't have the mind for this
Why won't it just go
Driving me crazy
Typing's no more for the lazy
I'm kind of sick, my mind's hazy
Maybe
Yep, I've got contact dermatosis.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Specimen
A flame of hope,
a bucket of matchwood
To my surprise,
A deviation
A new curiosity,
responsibility,
Life I can hold in my hand
Delicate now but hopefully,
I'll have a routine
A tiny structure dependent on me,
I have to watch attentively
Plans held down by a few strands of root,
But carefully they will substantiate,
For now though, I'll have to wait
Explanation:The sagebrush specimen I brought from Idaho has rooted!
Monday, April 13, 2015
Jolina Mae~Short Story
I'll probably draft this a few times, but for now, this is what I've got.
Jolina Mae was a rather quiet person. She was the mother of five children, who were all gone, and the grandmother of twenty five children, who rarely got to visit her. It was all fine with her; none of them liked her, and the littler ones found her terrifying. Her husband was dead and she lived by herself in a house in the middle of a large forest. When she and her husband had first bought it, she found the whole thing very romantic. Now it was the perfect place to be for an old lady who quite frankly despised other people.
When she felt like dying, she planned to sit in her rocking chair facing the door to her house and quietly pass on into whatever awaited her at death, leaving her withered corpse staring into the frame with cold, burnt out eyes. A kind of sentry to guard her house from the attention of children too curious for her own good. Eventually, that time came.
She was dusting her furniture; slowly making her way through the house when an odd feeling of release washed through her whole being. It felt like the conclusion to an extremely long story; rest for someone who had been walking without pause for a thousand years. Euphoria filled her mind as she hobbled over to the chair. This was it, and her end felt almost...poetic. She sat down and reached across the table at her side to turn on a small stove that had been worked into the surface. As Jolina Mae was waiting for her final cup of tea, her grip on the armrest loosened, and suddenly, there was nothing.
Jolina Mae was a rather quiet person. She was the mother of five children, who were all gone, and the grandmother of twenty five children, who rarely got to visit her. It was all fine with her; none of them liked her, and the littler ones found her terrifying. Her husband was dead and she lived by herself in a house in the middle of a large forest. When she and her husband had first bought it, she found the whole thing very romantic. Now it was the perfect place to be for an old lady who quite frankly despised other people.
When she felt like dying, she planned to sit in her rocking chair facing the door to her house and quietly pass on into whatever awaited her at death, leaving her withered corpse staring into the frame with cold, burnt out eyes. A kind of sentry to guard her house from the attention of children too curious for her own good. Eventually, that time came.
She was dusting her furniture; slowly making her way through the house when an odd feeling of release washed through her whole being. It felt like the conclusion to an extremely long story; rest for someone who had been walking without pause for a thousand years. Euphoria filled her mind as she hobbled over to the chair. This was it, and her end felt almost...poetic. She sat down and reached across the table at her side to turn on a small stove that had been worked into the surface. As Jolina Mae was waiting for her final cup of tea, her grip on the armrest loosened, and suddenly, there was nothing.
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Put wet in--Get dry out
This isn't really relevant -- Sure it's a story, but I did even worse than writing myself in.(cause that's apparently a bad thing) The whole thing is about me. Sit back and read. This seemed longer when I put it on Google+.
So, I don't expect anybody to care;I'm just kind of logging something kind of...Ironic I guess. So, in the past week I've noticed that the skin between my fingers was was starting to sting. I noticed a fine webbing of what kind of looked like --trigger warning xD-- xacto blade cuts. It's gotten worse and I became slightly concerned. Now, for anyone to get this, you have to know that I have...An ocd...Of sorts. If I touch anything that a lot of people touch, I get a weird feeling like I can feel the germs moving around, trying to get in and I refrain from touching any of my stuff(cause it might get dirty) until my hands are washed. I sometimes bring toilet paper to public spaces to avoid touching stuff. So I wash my hands a lot. After almost everything I do. So now you know that, I will continue. I was on my computer, and I thought I should look it up to see if there was some kind of cure for my dry hands. I looked up the symptoms and in about ten minutes read something in the description for 'contact dermatitis.' At the top of the list for causes was frequent hand washing. O_O It appears that in a strange, ironic twist of fate, I made my hands all dry by getting them all wet. I have contact dermatitis. In a few weeks, my hands should be fine.
So, I don't expect anybody to care;I'm just kind of logging something kind of...Ironic I guess. So, in the past week I've noticed that the skin between my fingers was was starting to sting. I noticed a fine webbing of what kind of looked like --trigger warning xD-- xacto blade cuts. It's gotten worse and I became slightly concerned. Now, for anyone to get this, you have to know that I have...An ocd...Of sorts. If I touch anything that a lot of people touch, I get a weird feeling like I can feel the germs moving around, trying to get in and I refrain from touching any of my stuff(cause it might get dirty) until my hands are washed. I sometimes bring toilet paper to public spaces to avoid touching stuff. So I wash my hands a lot. After almost everything I do. So now you know that, I will continue. I was on my computer, and I thought I should look it up to see if there was some kind of cure for my dry hands. I looked up the symptoms and in about ten minutes read something in the description for 'contact dermatitis.' At the top of the list for causes was frequent hand washing. O_O It appears that in a strange, ironic twist of fate, I made my hands all dry by getting them all wet. I have contact dermatitis. In a few weeks, my hands should be fine.
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