I find myself in a bit of a pickle, namely that I have no way to pay my rent in a month.
Lemme 'splain.
I've been going to university full-time, summer, fall and spring, for two straight years. I am now burnt out. So I decided to take the summer off this year to recupe and teach myself stuff that isn't taught (or taught to someone who learns like I do) at my school. Naturally, I saved enough money to get me through May. Naturally, I lined up work that would mean I could supplement this cash and get me to September and perhaps replace the torn and ratty hoodie that is my constant companion. Which brings me to the pickle.
The job fell through.
I have bright pink, short hair.
I have multiple facial piercings.
I have visible tattoos.
I am a trained, very adept bookkeeper.
So is it an affront to my schooling, my talent and my ability if I get a job washing dishes because it's the only temporary job I can get looking the way I do? Or should I bite the bullet, bleach out the pink and dye it brown (ick!) wear long sleeves and take out my piercings and apply at temp agencies?
I don't work well with others, I am a horrible boss (though a good reference for new people) and prefer not to communicated with clients. I really am a naturally born bean counter or philosopher...
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
We're running out of plots!
And I don't mean sepulchuric plots.; there's lots of room in the cemetary, I noticed so on my way to my parent's house on Sunday...huge sections with no one buried, but that's beside the point.
The point is, truly, that I started reading a novel today loaned to me by a very understanding (and also university-attending, which may have a lot to do with the understanding part of things) friend many months ago, before I started the four months of hell that were taking Logic & Computablility and Latin II and Socio-Political Philosophy and the Philosophy of Art all AT THE SAME TIME.
It's an interesting novel. But I can't get over the feeling that it must be rooted somewhere in Greek mythology or possibly common English folklore, because it strikes me as being very close in conception (but not inception nor actualisation) to Terry Pratchett's Reaper Man. I think of Pratchett's work (and if you don't read his Discworld series please do so now as otherwise you shall NEVER be able to understand my extensive use of parentheses in place of his rather unorthodox use of footnotes (why does it seem that blogspot doesn't believe in footnotes and is there something I can do about that?)) as holding a funhouse mirror up to reality (as opposed to slice of life fiction that holds a normal mirror up). That screwiness is why I can manage to bring myself to read work that has a lot to say -without subtlety- about daily life. And now existentialist literature seems to be doing the same thing.
So now I fear I am not the only person out there that thinks dada, surrealism, existentialism and social commentary can be mixed with science fiction. I'm never going to publish those damned crap novels at this rate.
The point is, truly, that I started reading a novel today loaned to me by a very understanding (and also university-attending, which may have a lot to do with the understanding part of things) friend many months ago, before I started the four months of hell that were taking Logic & Computablility and Latin II and Socio-Political Philosophy and the Philosophy of Art all AT THE SAME TIME.
It's an interesting novel. But I can't get over the feeling that it must be rooted somewhere in Greek mythology or possibly common English folklore, because it strikes me as being very close in conception (but not inception nor actualisation) to Terry Pratchett's Reaper Man. I think of Pratchett's work (and if you don't read his Discworld series please do so now as otherwise you shall NEVER be able to understand my extensive use of parentheses in place of his rather unorthodox use of footnotes (why does it seem that blogspot doesn't believe in footnotes and is there something I can do about that?)) as holding a funhouse mirror up to reality (as opposed to slice of life fiction that holds a normal mirror up). That screwiness is why I can manage to bring myself to read work that has a lot to say -without subtlety- about daily life. And now existentialist literature seems to be doing the same thing.
So now I fear I am not the only person out there that thinks dada, surrealism, existentialism and social commentary can be mixed with science fiction. I'm never going to publish those damned crap novels at this rate.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)