Nondescript Monosyllables

You may have noticed that I haven't blogged anything interesting recently, or blogged anything at all, nor have I started my sparkley super amazing pixie blog for writing. Aren't you clever.

Unfortunately, Constantine--the Laptop, for all you n00bs (aka, non-family members) out there--suffered a bit of an accident. Actually it was more like a direct attempt on his life, executed by an old Nintendo DS. Clearly embittered by its looming obsolescence, the chunky console got the drop on Con while was chilling out on my carpet--the jealous blighter. Constantine is still technically functional, but his screen is a bit shattered, in an LCD way.

I've been free-loading off of my mother's and sister Shannon's laptops for necessities--like e-mailing, Facebook, and watching Doctor Who on Netflix Insta-Play--but for something that requires extensive, intense, personal time such as writing, obviously other persons' laptops aren't going to be available and/or useful. Shannon uses her's a lot, and mother's is super tiny. Very, very small. Trying to type on it for more than about an hour or two every week is like begging for carpel tunnel syndrome and chronic claw-hands. And I won't get into details because this is a G-rated blog and I intend to keep it that way, but the house computer is my arch-nemesis and therefor not an option either.

What this means for you, dear reader, is that the whole writing blog thing will be a bit of time. I need to figure out how/where to get my screen replaced, and to do that I'm going to have to find someone to discuss my problem with who's more interested in telling me how much that will cost, not trying to sell me on the latest super special awesome deal on Dell laptops including their two year, $150 service plan complete with a new cord every year. Yeah, Staples guy; I wasn't even there and I saw right through you, so don't think you sold my mother on the idea either.

So I thought I'd let you know. In case you were wondering. I can hear my one fan weeping in the distance--it's gratifying.

If anyone knows how to replace a laptop screen, or knows about anything related to that, like where to get one cheap, you'll probably be my new favorite person. I'll find a cute/funny picture on the internet and post it on this blog for you.

Who can resist such incentive?

My Heart is a Bird that was Just Approached by Another Bird that Didn't Know Her but Still was Super Nice and Said "Hey, Nice Shirt!"

In other words, my heart is super duper gratified. Gratified seems inadequate, but I can't think of a better word. I'm super duper excited right now, because I just got my first:

STRANGER COMMENT

Huzzah! Ashley Cail gave me a lovely comment on my last post with lots of good ideas on how to brainstorm writing ideas. Honestly, I'd probably still be really thrilled if she had left a comment to the effect of "You smell. Stop contaminating the Internet with your gross boring posts, you Smelly McSmellpants", but I digress. My heart is full of fuzzies for her right now. Ashley, you officially beat out Jeremy Wade as my favorite person that I don't know right now. Admittedly, that list is usually totally dependent upon what I happen to be reading or watching on television. But you could be on top for at least...three days! I wish I had something nice to give you...Do you like ladybugs? Do you like dinosaurs? This picture moderately relates to those questions:

See, it's a patchwork dinosaur trying to eat the ladybug...he's probably just curious and will spit it out right away when he realizes it tastes yucky, and then the ladybug will fly away (it won't even have to wait for its wings to dry, because see the dinosaur is just full of cotton and the love of children, so it doesn't have spit). How's that?

Anywhoosie, I'm pretty positive that I'll be starting that writing blog. Thanks to you all who commented with advice/encouragement--I'm so grateful I have friends like you. Now, the remaining two questions in my mind are: should I make it private or no? And how am I going to make it pretty?

Pretty blogs are very important to me. I really like pretty blogs. I'd like my writing blog to be pretty; this way, when I write a really crappy post, I can dazzle people's attention with the snazzy design of my blog and then they won't notice that the post they're reading is made of ugliness. "What pizazz! I'm bookmarking this blog, definitely."

Oh, one more question: judging from your comments, most of you seem to be under the impression that one dimension of this writing blog is to put myself out there, so to speak. That isn't my intention--I'm really only interested in the exercise--but I'm wondering if you really think that's what will happen?

Since I Never Claimed to be a Nonconformist....

So, I've been thinking.I've been a very bad writer for the past yea months, in that I've hardly written anything at all. The problem is, I haven't really written consistently for about a year now, maybe more. Which means I'm rusty, which means everything I write is so inadequate and dull even I notice. Which means that I stop writing whenever I start (who doesn't know the frustration of trying to continue with something you're doing horribly at?). Which means I get more unpracticed. Which means I get more dreadful, which means I get more frustrated, which means I get more unpracticed, and so on.

Well, it's summer (for me, anyhow) now, so I want to break free from this rut. And I know how to do it--I have to knuckle down and start writing crap and just keep at it until it looks less ugly--but it's the actual carrying out of the solution that always stops me. Therefor, I'm toying with the idea of committing to write something--a sentence, a paragraph, a scene--just something creative every day (as much as is possible, because there's always vacations and Youthcamp and days where I'm just weak). Following that vein of thought, I'm toying with the idea of following in the footsteps of basically every creative friend I have and starting a writing blog.If I did start one, I'd be open--nay, rabid--for suggestions and prompts on what to write on, because I really can't just pull ideas out of my couch cushions. I'm also thinking I'd at least loosely use that "100 Themes" list that seems to be so super popular around the cybersphere these days as a potential framework for the project.

The process of thinking through this idea is extremely back-and-forth in my mind.On the one hand, having a blog that other people (potentially) would read might keep me more accountable than I would by my onesy; on the other hand, it may just mean that I have more people to throw pitchforks and full wine bottles at me during those long gaps of weakness and lack-of-posting than just my own brain. On the one hand, it would help me if I had people reading and critiquing my work as I went along so I could continue to improve; on the other hand, my creative psyche quails at the thought of subjecting you poor readers to some of the melodramatic, inane space-waste I have been known to and most likely will produce. On the one hand, the vain side of me has grand dreams of complete strangers reading my blog and thinking I'm the next...Marcus Zusak, and lavishing me with praise and book deals; on the other hand, the more practical side of me knows that will never happen and it's more likely that if it's read by strangers at all they'll glance over it, never read it again, and forget they ever heard of me; and then there's also my paranoid side that wants to make it sacrosanct so no one evil will steal my brilliant ideas; so the vain side and the paranoid side are at war and neither of them are speaking to the practical side because she's against both of them and is just mean to suggest that someone would think my literary prowess is less than the level of a god-Shakespeare.

You may be telling yourself I'm over-thinking this. If you are, are you surprised? You shouldn't be.

Thoughts? And I mean complete, helpful thoughts on the whole subject entirely, not just "Gawsh I love reading your stuff!" Don't just tell me to do it because you want me to write more (Ben). This isn't exclusively about me writing more.

[You'll notice I've broke the lovely repetitive format of my post titles. It's my blog, I can do whatever I want.]

Back to Real Life--This is Probably Anticlimactic

After spending--oh my word, four months? I spent four months of my life that involved in the Twilight Saga?! I'm not certain of how I should feel about this. Should I be proud of my dedication to the cause of thorough, educated analysis? Should I be apathetic since it really doesn't matter all that much? Should I be horrified that I dedicated that much time and energy and witticism into something that in the long run probably matters less than Paris Hilton's autobiography?

I think yes.

But I'm digressing from the point...what I meant to start out with was:

After spending four months (guh) blogging (oh my, I'm blogging. I'm a blogger. I feel like I should know more about this world with a title) about the Twilight Saga, I feel like going back to my normal blogging--aka, "Have you ever pondered Mondays"--is even less adequate than it was before. And it helps very little that I just read over some older posts and am now wondering why on earth anyone bothers to read this. I'm so puzzled--this stuff is boring. I think there's something wrong with you people. Of course, I'm going to keep writing anyway, because I'm far too fond of Archives to just abandon him now, but I really do look at you all askance for reading. Truly.

I think I should carry a tape-recorder around with me everywhere I go, and this is why: in the past week, I've been legitimately (marginally) preoccupied with what I would post now that I'm done with Twilight forever. Every once and a while something would happen, something epic, or funny, or that just made me happy, and I tucked in away in my brain as "Blogging ideas." But the problem I face now is, since they already happened (and just ages ago, too) I really don't feel like mustering the narrative prowess it takes to retell things so they sound as awesome and cool as they were the first time. However, if I had a tape-recorder, then I could just narrate them in the moment, with dialogue peppered with witticism and emotional language inspired by my feelings for the moment at that time. In the moment. Because usually about a day after I meet the moment I get bored of the moment, and to each other we become one of those weird acquaintances that one smiles and waves at as they pass but at the same time tries to look extremely busy and destination-bound so that one doesn't have to stop and actually make conversation.

(I have a few people in my life under that category. I'm rightfully ashamed of my lack of gumption and social dexterity.)

What was the point of that paragraph? I think it was to say that if I had a tape recorder I could narrate said event while I was still excited about it and then in effect dictate it to myself later. I think that was it.

So biggest news in Meagan's life to date is that her poor fish are starving! I just realized neglecting this blog means neglecting to give love and tender care to the pixelated koi pond and it's adorable denizens! I'm a horrible parent...Remington, Steiny, Alphonse, Earl, Fitz--forgive me.

Oh yes, I'm also on summer break. Which is extremely nice for me, but probably not the most awesome for you, since that means right now I'm determinedly doing literally nothing. Well, I am going through Les Miserables; I think that's pretty epic of me if I do say so myself. But other than that, you probably don't want to hear about it.

I smell like an Icee right now. And now I want an Icee.

Things I am looking forward to:

• Prince of Persia and Eclipse because they both look hilarious.
• The return of Psych--Season 4!.
• Seeing the Leaches again (soon, soon, please be soon!).
• Getting together with Hannah (aha! You didn't think I was thinking about it, did you? Well I was).
• Getting to meet my niece, Julia Mae Smith, in July! [it's special. It gets special formatting]

Mbye!

The Twilight Experiment--The Final Final Review

[If you've felt in any way bashed upon, hurt, angered, or annoyed at any point during this long series of The Twilight Experiment, please read my address to the bulldozed masses.]

At last it is the long overdue Final Final Review of the infamous Twilight Saga. I honestly have no idea why you had to wait so long for this, dear reader. I'd like to be done with it just as much as you...maybe. It's been a long journey. One that has felt even longer--oh, Smeyer. But I've waited so long, and have so little left to say, that this will probably end up seeming anti-climactic to you.

I think I'll do this quick, like pulling off a band-aid.

The Final Final Review: I could spend hours upon hours simply nitpicking this series (as some of you probably have already experienced. Apologies). However, I won't--for which I'd like a reward please and thank you. But I will say that the fact that I can spend hours nitpicking a published book is a strong indicator that Smeyer left out a very important part of her writing process, that being peer review. Speaking from a writer's perspective for a moment here: I have written some truly dreadful things. It's not impossible for an author to treat a horrible, cliched, melodramatic, just-plain-stupid, idea like their shining, sweet, angel brain child; in fact, it's all too easy. However, what saves your authorly life in these moments are two things: putting down your work and coming back to it many months later when you've forgotten just how brilliant you think it is (this process usually reveals some very embarrassing things in the cold, unforgiving light of day), and getting others whose opinions you greatly value to look over your work. A good friend will be able to shed logicality and practical...ness into your passion-sodden piece of inspiration, shedding light onto areas of weakness that you probably never would have seen yourself. Most importantly, they are able to catch plotholes, errors in logic and factual evidence, and just tiny awkward things that could besmirch an otherwise respectable manuscript.

Smeyer, clearly, did not go through this process. Putting aside the fact that she herself wrote such a large amount of sheer grammatical, factual, and logical errors into her books for a moment--did no one think to point just one of these things? Did she have no friend willing to say, "Well Stephanie, see if you're going to get scientific to explain how Bella could possibly be having a baby, you're going to have to also explain why all of the natural processes of Edward's body have stopped except the reproductive ones."

I just can't fathom how it can be that sloppy and be published. A manuscript goes through legions of editors and proofreaders, and this is the final product?

That is my last block rant, I promise.

(Probably)

Pros of the Twilight Saga:

•  Jacob Black--for the entirety of Twilight and the first five chapters or so of New Moon. He's a genuinely likable character; a cute, cheerful, little fifteen-year-old (although there's something wrong with him if he likes Bella that much).
• Jasper--because he hardly ever talks, and when he does it's just to be a badapple.
• The histories--Smeyer did indeed create fairly involved histories for each vampire character, that are really interesting. So no matter what else happens, you'll be engaged for the equivalent of about two chapters of the Saga.
• The Volturi--really good concept--the execution of the concept didn't quite live up to its potential, but they were cool nonetheless (too bad they never actually got to use that coolness in BATTLE)
• (To connect with above) Basically every other vampire except the Cullens--those being the ones introduced in the last dozen chapters of Breaking Dawn. I don't know what it is--maybe Smeyer's talent lies in giving characters the illusion of unseen depth before she goes into detail about them (thus revealing them to be flat and unlikable)--but the vampires that gather to defend the Cullens against the Volture in the last book both intrigue intrigue and please me.*

 (Overall) Cons of the Twilight Saga:

• Jacob--from the rest of New Moon onward. After he turns into a werewolf he becomes your normal, annoying, angst-ridden supernatural teen; all sullen and tortured about his lot in life. He's also kind of a skeeze, and full of himself.
• Bella--is a poorly done main character. She's really a just plain unlikable main character, and pretty much static even though the Saga takes place over almost three years of her life; her states of being change, but not her character. And there are little to no transitions between the changes in her states of being (much like this paragraph and the transitions between its ideas). She goes from not knowing who Edward is to being completely in love, with him with no real catalyst; she goes from ignorance of vampires to complete acceptance of the concept, with no time of processing or shock; she goes from not caring about her human friends to--never caring about her human friends. And she treats her parents like children, which just plain ticks me off.
• The only "cool" (and good-looking) characters in the Saga are Bella and the supernatural creatures surrounding her. Honestly, if I was one of Smeyer's friends I'd be worried about the way she feels about the human race.
• Her climaxes--they fall pitifully short. The most exciting of these was the climax for Twilight--which wasn't very impressive to begin with. Smeyer constantly writes as if she's leading up to something big and potentially eye-popping, but always fails in the follow-through. Yes, I am still bitterly, bitterly disappointed in the Breaking Dawn climax.
• Stephanie Meyers is Bella. And you can tell; I don't know about you, but pretension like this never fails to irritate me greatly in novels (I have the same problem with the Inheritance series). But if I were Smeyer's husband, I'd feel a bit self-conscious.
• Edward--is not romantic, is not sweet, is not an old-fashioned gentleman--he is an overly controlling, emotionless stalker.
• Description--is gratuitous in the places it shouldn't be (Smeyer never stops eloquently describing Edward's beauty and Jacob's body. Never.), and underdone in the places it should be eloquent.
• Small typos, plotholes, and logical fallacies that alone probably wouldn't matter very much but add up--believe me.

You can do the math and come to your own conclusion about reading them.

*Honestly, if a better writer wrote an expanded universe about some of those side characters' lives, I might consider checking them out.

The Biggest Con:

I've separated it because I feel it's the most important; everything I've pointed out above, for the most part, is arguably a matter of opinion. This particular issue I have with the Saga, however,  is something that I'll stand by no matter what, because I think it's important that people be aware of it.

The most important problem I have with the Twilight Saga is its message. In a nutshell, the message of Twilight is that you can't be happy unless you have a significant other--and that once you have someone who loves you, whom you love (because everyone loves Bella but it's only Edward who has the privilege of being loved by her), everything in your life will be perfect. And I do not exaggerate when I say perfect--after Bella marries Edward, at the end of the Saga, what she has is Stephanie Meyers' version of a perfect life--she has a picturesque, fairy tale cottage for a home, eternity with the man of her dreams, who is the most beautiful creature imaginable (which we can never forget), a beautiful, well-behaved little girl that she doesn't even have to bother training, she's inhumanly gorgeous herself, and she gets her own personal stylist. This end basically sums up what's woven throughout the entire story; the only time Bella is ever truly content is when she and Edward can be together. And she gets everything she's ever wanted through no effort on her own part aside from continually loving Edward.

Not only is this tedious to read about, but I feel for younger readers--and Twilight readers are getting progressively younger--it can be a downright dangerous idea. It's never explicitly stated, but always subtly implied. The focus and truly important things in the book are all shallow, brief, tenuous values.

-----

Well, that's it for The Twilight Experiment, dear reader. Now hopefully I, and you if you wish, can go back to forgetting the Twilight Saga even exists.

I think I'll go read Dracula now.....

(Picture was paired with this post solely for the purpose of having something interesting to look at when I link this on Facebook. I'm not ashamed to admit it.)

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Wow. That wasn't quick at all.

The Twilight Experiment--A Brief Aside to Twilight Fans

Dear Reader Who In Any Way Enjoys Twilight,

I know I've been considerably harsh to this Saga. So I think it important to note: the things that I say about Twilight and the way that I feel about it in absolutely no way applies to you. I wish to make it abundantly clear that all Twilight Experiment posts are my--small, fallible, human, slanted--opinion. And that my view of this book series in no way reflects the way I feel about anyone who should happen to enjoy them. I do not think the less of you, I will not browbeat or otherwise abuse you, and I don't spend my spare time thinking about what silly fangirls (or boys) you all are. I might, if we should ever happen to engage in dialogue regarding Twilight, attempt to (passionately) bring you around to my way of thinking, but at worst that will only be me debate-mongering, I solemnly promise.

That being said, I strongly suggest--nay, implore--that if at any point during this journey of analysis you have felt remotely irritated or offended, ignore everything I say. And if someday we do engage in dialogue regarding Twilight and you feel the same inklings of doubt or annoyance during my impassioned persuasion, please feel released and, indeed, obligated to slap me across the face and walk away.

Your servant,
The Writer

An Anecdote--Interruption of the Flow

So, I know I'm supposed to be writing the final review of the Twilight Saga, but it's taking a while so I thought I'd favor you with a humorous anecdote from life. Mine, specifically.

My creative processes need a little more discipline added to them. This fact was cemented in my mind after hour three of trying to write a short story due today last night. You, dear reader, may have some words about my grasp on the obvious, but I have to say: don't try to write a story the day before you have to hand it in. It's just a miserable experience.

Anyway I know that now.

Around ten all creative juices dried into acid. Around eleven the temptation to type "the last thing he saw was the barrel of a gun pointed at his head" was stronger than it ever has been in my life. Around twelve thirty I was done and disgusted (it's really quite extraordinary the amount of self-loathing one can muster during a creative endeavor. Just ask my sister).

Around one, I was dozing over the keyboard while trying to get the family printer to spit out twenty five copies. Cue noticing a huge typing error. Meagan cancels print job, fixes error, resumes printing. Cue black ink trickling to nil. Meagan cancels the print job, changes all text to blue instead of black, resumes printing. Cue printer printing at the speed of one page per five minutes.

You should be admiring my perseverance at this point--even though it had morphed into more of a one-track, zombie-like "Must get done....must get done..." compulsion. But eventually, the practical part of my mind concluded, "This is dumb." Meagan cancels print job for the final time, making satisfactory plans to print the rest out at school.

So of course, I need to bring a stapler to staple them all together before I hand them out, and logically I should check to make sure I have enough staplers because it would just be in keeping with the whole process if I got to school in the morning and discovered I was stuck with a stapleless stapler. Naturally this leads to prying open the forty-year-old stapler, and after finding satisfaction in the number of staples therein, wrestling the decrepit tool closed.

Protestingly it finally snapped shut, and the action was accompanied by a stranger sensation in my finger. Curiously, I glance down at the digit, only to be met with the sight of a staple in my finger.

Before you stop reading, dear reader, I will add that it didn't hook. A fortuitous circumstance. But I still found myself with an old metal staple dug a good half-inch into my finger at one-thirty in the morning. Through my fuzzy brain (that I'm pretty sure was trying to thrust me into an out-of-body experience), I stared at the skewered appendage blankly. Reason compelled me to remove it, which I did, and then immediately worked my frayed mind to think who I could talk to about the experience at this time of night.

How very telling.

After this, I put a band-aid on it, scraped up enough incredulity to spout some profanities (shameful of me; I'm glad everyone was asleep), and went to bed.

And this morning I typed up a completely different short story, that I despise slightly less, and am now minutes away from turning it in.

I'm not sure what's wrong with me, but something definitely is.