she knew she had to change her plans

If you’re going to try, go all the way. November 25, 2007

Filed under: Uncategorized — deloresdefacto @ 6:52 pm



I haven’t written anything for a while now. I just haven’t wanted to. Whenever I think about writing an entry, I think about how there’s nothing to really talk about so I just don’t bother. Today though I have to do the last two things for my class so I have to sit at the computer and work. I figured I’d write an entry while I was at it. I haven’t had to work on my class much in the last week because we finished up our workshop stories and mine was, as always, critiqued on my tense shifts and my lack of detail. That will be my task today; to rewrite the story. My writing teacher said that when she re-writes, she prints the original out, lays it beside her, and then writes in a fresh, new document file from scratch. I’ve always done it that way since she explained that to me some five years ago. I need to flesh out the whole conflict and add some more scenery. I wasn’t going to go into that before because I like the telling it like it is type of writing. I don’t like bogging myself down with the intricate details of each characters facial expression, body language, backdrop and surroundings. I like giving a taste of where they are and a bit about what they look like and then let the rest rely on imagination. But I guess in this age of modern literature, the extensive detail and the trying too upscale everything is more to everyone’s liking. Not me. I can understand needing to go into extensive detail with sci-fi and fantasy, where the world and the situation have to be explained in clear detail. But for a story that I would just as soon write to someone in an email, no, that’s in desperate need of an explanation of every crack on every sidewalk.

Anyway, so back to earlier this week. Fran and her husband left for her in-laws on Wednesday so I had to dog sit that afternoon, Thanksgiving Day and the morning after. So there I was at eight in the morning on Thursday, driving my happy ass to Circle K for coffee and then traipsing through Fran’s back yard to get into the house. Then I got back home a couple of hours later and my parents were ready to have dinner already. At ten in the morning. They even made some dramatic, grandiose comment like they would just eat their dinner and I could come over whenever I felt like it…Just to make me feel guilty. Absurd. So I took my shower and left the apartment again to have Thanksgiving brunch with my parents. It was damn good too. In our family we have always had the same things for every special occasion; a dinner passed through our Irish German Appalachian family forever. Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, bread dressing, scalloped oysters, noodles, chicken, lima beans, buttermilk, pumpkin pie and Cool Whip. Granted most of it is typical Thanksgiving but we have this for everything; Easter, birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Sometimes we even have it when it just simply sounds good. No wonder Thanksgiving dinner has become a little hackneyed in my opinion. Anyway, so after the dinner and watching the dog show on TV with Mom (Dad, of course, wants to watch football alone in the garage), I went back to Fran’s, took the dogs out again. I came home and passed out all to get up at dinner time and do the whole bit over again. I went over to Fran’s again and talked to her on the phone about what was on TV (which was nothing and I’m pissed that the networks didn’t come up with good holiday television this year. No cutesy reruns, only a couple of Christmas movies, nothing special, nothing interesting.) Afterwards, I went back to my parents, had leftovers, felt stuffed all over again, came home and went back to bed. That was my Thanksgiving.

The next morning I had to get up at eight again and I damn near fell asleep on the couch on Friday morning while I was waiting for the dogs to do their breakfast, morning run business due to the massive carb intake. Then that night, last night, I went to her house and ate the leftovers she brought back from her in-laws (the yellow squash dressing was awesome by the way) and we watched Knocked Up. Fran and I had seen it in the theater but her husband hadn’t so we watched the unedited version. It just wasn’t as funny the second time around. I think it was because I couldn’t focus on it as much as I did in the theater and had no idea what to expect of it, walking in to the show. Some of it was still making me laugh harder than any movie has in a long time though.


Money. Another subject. Supposedly this is the time to start Christmas shopping and I just am not going to do it. I have Mom, Dad, Fran and Laura to buy for and when I think of something to get I will. I’m not going out to purposely shop for Christmas because I just don’t have any money and I’m totally not caring about the whole season at all right now. I have that little Christmas tree that I can put up and I can try to decorate and feel festive but, eh, apathy is a reaction most relevant to this whole time of year. I like the cold but I don’t go out to wear the cute clothes. I gained weight so I don’t look that great anyway. I’m have an overwhelming feeling of whatever-ness that may or may not pass in a few weeks.


Watched Factotum. It was pretty good. I’d known nothing about Charles Bukowski until I looked the movie up. Apparently “frontman Al Jourgensen of the industrial-metal band, Ministry, has a Bukowski tattoo.” Cool.

Here’s the trailer, to give you an idea of what the movie is like: Factotum trailer

My favorite quote from the movie is this one that I found at Wikiquote — Charles Bukowski. I didn’t know they had such a site today. Damn.

Even at my lowest times, I can feel the words bubbling inside of me. And I had to get the words down or be overcome by something worse than death. Words not as precious things, but as necessary things. Yet when I begin to doubt my ability to work the word, I simply read another writer, and then I know I have nothing to worry about. My contest is only with myself to do it right, with power and force and delight and gamble.

It sucks that writing requires this overwhelming beat down sort of feeling. It requires being isolated and unsure of yourself and confident in your mission all at once.

Photo credit: liquorsnob


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