La Vegetariana Loca

Here are some random ramblings of a girl that will probably end up in an insane asylum sometime in her near future...Kookookachoo. She loves her Queen, she loves her Beatles and her Who and her Zeppy and her music in general. She loves her writing. She loves love. And she loves you. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Thursday, January 17, 2008


First, before I get too side-tracked, here is le video of the week. This guy makes me giggle.



Yep. I said ugh. I'm having a bad case of the teenage angsts. The kind that I usually make fun of in people. I guess later, I'll be making fun of them in myself. But that'll be when I get over them.

I feel ridiculous, but I'm going to go ahead and say it. It's cliche. It'll make you cringe. Heck, it makes ME cringe.

Nobody understands me.

Let's break out the emo razors!

Alright, let me explain. I wrote a story for a writing contest. It was really emotional for me: when I read it to my mom, I was on the verge of tears. I'm really passionate about the subject it's on, but both of the people I read it to didn't get it. They didn't understand my point. That's alright, I thought. I kinda expected that. But I figured they'd look farther into it, read between the lines or whatever. Well, they didn't. They expected everything to be laid out in front of them. Yes, it should have been. But remember, I'm moping. So of course I'm the victim here!

Perhaps if I was a poet they would have read farther into the meaning. People do that with poems all the time. Rarely is there a poem that you don't have to analyze before you understand the full meaning. Prose? Not so much. People get lazy with prose. It all has to be there, most usually. It's like there's no room for interpretation.

Well, my story, though written in prose, was written in the format of poetry, whereas it had different verses and a repeating refrain. Each different verse describes a different scene. My characters are by-and-large anonymous: I wanted it that way so it would seem like what was happening in the story could happen to anybody. Not just Joe up the street. Anybody. So that was my point.

So...yeah. I think I'm going to enter another piece. Not sure what. I got second place last year in the county in this competition, and that was using a light, airy story about a father trying to gain the understanding of his daughter. I can't picture myself writing something that light anymore: the only humor I can choke out anymore isn't slapstick or situational like it used to be, but dark, twisted. The last funny scene I wrote was a murder. Seriously, I wrote a murder scene that made people bust out laughing.

I guess I'll write something about a puppy.

Yes, I know I'm a bit of a sell out, but you know what? If you want to succeed, you've gotta sell out some. Sad but true.

And I've got homework to catch up on. Homework on a snow day! Isn't that lovely?

Hm...I ought to go eat. I forgot to, and I got up, what, four hours ago? XD



  • At 12:09 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I'm sorry...that's a shame :( From what I read, it sounded like a good meaningful story. =/ Well, we all have different styles. It's a shame too about that truth:( I hope you enjoyed your snow day - I'll talk to you soon.


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