Meaghan’s Blog

I try not to complain, but sometimes things irk me far too much. I'll try and make this brief. If you do not fancy hearing me ramble, you may want to skip the better part of this entry.

Sarah had gotten a book out of the library and I decided to read it, just for kicks. It was previously published as four separate novels about these four fourteen-year-olds who are best friends decide that the remainder of their summer (about a fortnight, but for three it was just a week to find a boyfriend) should be spent trying to find summer romance (I know!). the first book was tolerable. The second, I liked the storyline but not how it was executed. The third I detested. The fourth I could not even bear to finish! It drove me nuts!

I cannot exactly put my finger on what it was that I just abhorred about the book, but I think it was how it was written - like someone had an afternoon or two to spare and didn't plan a thing for it, and just went very vague in all of it. The characters weren't really described in looks, and it was from their point of view, and there was too much talking. There was a certain vagueness (did I get that right?) that I could not stand - in Jane Austen, it was fine when she only said things were only handsome but not much detail . . . this book was just insufferable. Am I whining too much? Don't mind me. I will give the writer props for using big words occasionally, but that was about all I admired. May I add two more things? These four best friends - girls, I forgot to mention - hardly even seemed like that, as they seldom even communicated, except two friends and they only called each other twice (each person also made twenty million other friends, whom they communicated with more than the best friends). Not only this, but the boys they chose were for the wrong reasons. It was like they took what was second best or all they could get! This is no way to treat boys, not in my opinion. In the end, I could see they only really did get together with these boys so as to tell their friends they did, indeed, have a summer romance. Most of the girls didn't even really appear to like their choices, as they ought.

I regret spending my time reading it because since last night my eyes have hurt a lot from reading. I keep trying to place what it is that is so vexing about it . . . I come up with hardly a thing that makes sense. The books could have been longer and filled with less talking, I can assure you. I will stop now.

My story is at a standstill, but I have created two more novels I could do after I finish this series, which will take a very long time, but it is really nice to know I have other things to write when this is finished. I have Tazier, of course, and Olive, as you may recall  . . . as for my two other ones, one is about a girl (about twenty-ish) in Jane Austen's time, I suppose, who is a writer and falls in love with one of her characters. Now, I will not go into detail, because it's a rather dark story, and I would not want to spoil the fun of learning on your own. The other, which I thought up only a few nights ago, is about a girl in her teenage years (not sure what age) who is determined never to fall in love for whatever reason - I do not know yet - and, naturally, meets a boy who she tries not to like. It is set in some imaginary world somewhere that does not say where, really, but I know at the beginning she will definitely be climbing a big ladder up to the clouds to sit on them and the the sunrise/sunset, with her legs swinging over the edge - below the knee, that is. When she goes down the simply jumps off and floats down gracefully. This one all ends very well, the opposite of the other one. I shan't think about it too much, since I have the current one to think on.

There, I feel better now. Mostly just thinking of my stories makes me feel well again.

Today, we get to go down to the community center and play video games with the village children. For some reason, I can only envision little boys jumping around, screaming, and attacking us. We'll see if it turns out that way, but probably not. Well, I hope not.

No work on the story. I tried to write more of it but I just wound up scribbling it out, which is fine by me except a real waste of ink. I may need more pens soon . . . but I need to sit myself down and force myself to work soon, or I shall never be done.

Did I say anything about the tractor yet? I don't think I did. Dad bought a new tractor, which isn't as big as the one we used to have, and I'm sure it'll be the envy of the neighborhood. Not only can it mow the lawn, but it can shovel the driveway and scoop up stuff also! I'm sure when Earl returns from his . . . *counts on fingers* five-month trip in March, he'll be keen to see the tractor. I think everybody will.

The lunar eclipse last night was awesome! My eyes hurt, though, so I probably shouldn't be on the computer at all. Mom and I's (I'm not sure if that's something I can use) cheeks look red and they're very warm. She suggested frostbite - it was minus fourteen with a bit of wind - but I think if that were the case, it would hurt, and other places would be affected. Ah well. We took about a million pictures.

So finally I got some work done on my story last night, when it was very late, which was very fortuitous (or 'lucky') for me since I have been trying to get work done above a fortnight now, and some of it had not been done for months, so it was really good I got some done. I hope I can get most of the rest done today, too, or maybe I just work best at night, when I usually want to sleep, because I just seem to get more ideas then. I had to finish a character in the story who actually seldom appears in the story so far, even though he's important. So I had to think up his childhood, what his age was, and a few other things but I still have more work. I just seem to get distracted by the kitchen needing to be cleaned or I go listen to music with the design to get work done, but really I go do it and my notebook is soon next to me, abandoned completely.

Or I decide to post in my blog. I'm going to go do that work now, or try. I haven't worked on my paintings for some time now, as well . . .

P.S. I just grabbed my notebook, which was on the table next to me, and accidentally hit myself in the face with it. I seem to be getting clumsy lately, or perhaps I'm merely distracted.

Yesterday, we did some plumbing. One of the kitchen sinks leaked, so we decided to fix it which took a while, but now I can use both. It'll take time to get used to it, since I had a system going only using one sink, but that took a lot longer. I believe my mom will post pictures somewhere or other.

I haven't done anything with my story for a very looong time. I did work on it, but the story isn't being written. I'd like very much to write but I don't know exactly what to do next, so it could be a while until I figure that out, which is a shame . . .

And I must work on that third chapter - I need to make a few modifications to the story since when I copied it, I changed it and that was a bad idea. I'll get to it sometime, but not today. Dad's using the other computer that has my story on it, and then Sarah will be on it all day even though she swears I can use it whenever I wish - all I have to do is ask - but she always looks busy. Skipping to a cpmletely different subject, a muscle in my back was sore all yesterday afternoon, and it's a little worse today - it can be felt when I breathe in - but it'll go away. I think maybe it was because I was sewing yesterday. I slipped on the icy driveway a few days ago, too, but I was fine.
I just asked dad what we'd be doing today. You know what he replied? 'We're going to take over the world.' I love those days. I think I should bake something today; I'll figure out what later. Today is a balmy -14c outside. I would really hope that it would warm up soon, but I know it'll still be snowing in April, usually around the beginning of it, no matter what a groundhog says (I didn't hear what it did do, anyway).