“A failure is a man who has blundered but is not able to cash in the experience”- Elbert Hubbard
Failure can come in many forms. Failure to meet a goal and failure to meet a deadline are just merely two of them.
I change my major in college from forensic chemistry to criminal justice. Organic chemistry…yeah…that didn’t work out for me. It felt like work (the kind where there is no end in sight and is nearly impossible to do) and it lost all the fun I used to have with it. I just couldn’t wait till class was over. Found out that while I love science and learning about science, I hate studying science. I rather learn what I want because I want to and not because I had to. So instead of sticking with failed goal, I changed it even though it added two years onto my college plan.
Deadlines. Deadlines. Deadlines. I’m useless without one. Even if it is an imagery one. I need a deadline to get anything done. I had set a deadline for myself this summer. To write as much as I can. Turns out, that would be very little. I got tennis elbow. From being on my computer. Never thought I’d get a sport injury from being stationary in a chair. The only remedy to stop the shooting nerve pain in my dominate arm was to stop the action that caused it in the first place. Snort. Like that’s gonna happen. I really attached to my computer. And the internet. Can’t seem to stay away. I tried. For weeks I only went on the computer to check mail and other necessities. End of summer. And I still hurt. Since I kinda need my computer for school I’m just going to have to play through and hope it heals up on its own. Even if it takes another three months. This deadline taught me patience and endurance.
Failure comes and goes but experience stays forever.
Posted in Life | Tagged Life, Quote | 1 Comment »
“Electronic books are ideal for people who value the information contained in them, or who have vision problems, or who like to read on the subway, or who do not want other people to see how they are amusing themselves, or who have storage and clutter issues, but they are useless for people who are engaged in an intense, lifelong love affair with books. Books that we can touch; books that we can smell; books that we can depend on.” ― Joe Queenan, One for the Books
I have a Kindle. And five bookcases. I’ve had the bookcases for much longer than the Kindle. I was, like all other bibliophiles, against having one. To me, nothing beats the smell, the feel, the comfort of a real book. A computer is cold. It’s nothing compared to warmth of a personal book. But then I got the Kindle as a present.
I was wary. Seriously. A book can last for hundreds of years. There is always a new computer model in six months. If I put books on the machine, how long will it last? How long till technology surpasses my current model? But it was a present. So I went to the eBook store on Amazon. Two words: FREE CLASSICS. That sold me. Classics that I’ve been wanting to read for years but didn’t have the money to buy (while I love libraries, I rather own a book then rent one). I also have been reading the same authors over and over again, so the free books of writers I’ve never heard of have widen range. (I’m not the type to buy an unknown book. I might regret it later. That’s what libraries are for). So I’m happy having a Kindle.
But the only thing better then the smell of a new book is that of an old one.
-Ashley Shae Hall
Posted in Writing | Tagged Amazon Kindle, Book, eBook, Kindle, Quote, Thoughts | 2 Comments »
“You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.”- Jack London
So I’m writing a book. Have been for the last year and a half. Nowhere near finished. I’m not even sure I’m half way through. Ugh… I really got to pick up the pace. But my Muse is currently backpacking through Europe and I have no idea when she will be back. Her phone has a GPS on it. Maybe I’ll activate it and hunt her down, tie her up and drag her scrawny, little self back in my head. But then she’ll just cry and whine that I cut short her ‘research trip’ short and that she has no good ideas for me. Liar. I know she’s simply procrastinating. She did learn from the best (me). But she needs learn that I’m in charge and that I just give her a leash that disguises itself as freedom. She’s no freer than a collie inside an invisible fence.
She might be an old dog (been with me since I was a child) but she needs to learn some discipline. Seriously, she’s getting as bad as my Imagination who just lies around waiting for me to feed it books. And it won’t even let me approach it unless it’s decides I’m worthy. I’m the owner not her. Sometimes I just want to put Imagination in the same room as Muse and watch her get chased. Maybe that’ll teach her. I’d put her on a leash too, except that I know she will slip it off and look at me as if I was an idiot. At least she comes back at a decent hour. But that’s only for the food. Why do I posses such fickle pests.
-Ashley Shae Hall
Posted in My books, Writing | Tagged Book, Fiction, Quote, Writing | 2 Comments »
“You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.” -Abraham Lincoln
So, I’m giving up on writing. What does it matter that I started to write in my head because I was bored (She wrote while staring at the wall because she has nothing to do). Or that I wrote to prove that I could despite having a learning disability and others said I couldn’t because of this fact (‘learning disability since when?’ one friend said). Or even the fact that my overactive imagination won’t stop working ( ‘hmm, I wonder if a college student ever stood on the side of the road collecting money because they couldn’t find a job’ she said one day while looking for a part-time job and saw a broke man with a cardboard sign).
None of this matters because let’s face it, what having a blog ever done for me (expect, of course, boost my public speaking ability and my confidence in such event). So, I am giving up on writing because it has never benefited me (not even exploring my inner most thoughts and feeling and sharing it with others).
So, goodbye cruel writing world, I’ll never interact with you again.
Happy April Fool’s Day.
Expect another post next month.
2012-092 April Fool’s Day (Photo credit: mrsdkrebs)
Posted in Writing | Tagged Fuuny, Quote, Thoughts, Writing | 1 Comment »
Have desk, will write (Photo credit: Bright Meadow)
“I write-down to speak-up.” ― M.K. Asante, Jr.
I hate speaking in front of a large group of people. It’s so bad my heart races when I’m waiting for my name in attendance. I mentally prepare myself for my name. I count the letters in previous names so I know how much longer I have till my name is called. And when it does… I speak softly. Then when it’s over, my body temperature cool downs and my heart rate slowly goes back to normal. This stage fright I have is inconvenient and annoying.
But when it is necessary, I speak. Even if it comes out awkward. Which is most of the time. I spend a ridiculous amount of time preparing what I’m going to say out loud and half the time I don’t even use my voice. I do so much better writing than speaking. Speak. And it’s out there forever. Write. And you edit.
Writing. Writing. Writing. The only way my thoughts can touch your mind is though ink. And not literal ink. Virtual ink. You know, through the internet. Because my handwriting is the worst. I literally (literal literally) had to have someone write for me, for a short period of time, in seventh grade. Even now, the coded text I call longhand is a decipher (One which even I have a hard time cracking.) Woe is to the classmate that needs my notes (Though by now, they know not to ask.)
Clickly click goes my keyboard. Well, it’s a slow clickly click. Never learned how to type. Well, that’s not entirely true. I tried to learn. Many times. Never stuck. So now, I’m stuck looking at my keyboard why I type and glance at the screen every few words to make sure that they’re spelled correctly (Last two words I had to retype (And that last word (Bangs head on desk)).)
Well that’s it for now, my followers (Laughs manically at the synonym for minions (Yes, yes, I’m in a weird mood (I blame the snowy and windy cold outside)).)
Posted in Writing | Tagged Quote, Speaking, Writing | 1 Comment »
Painter on His Way to Work (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
“I passionately hate the idea of being with it; I think an artist has always to be out of step with his time.” -Orson Welles
Artists often have been hated in their own time and yet become beloved eons later. Vincent Van Gogh was thought as a mad drunk who died in poverty. Johann Sebastian Bach was known as being only a competent organist in his time. Edgar Allan Poe struggled as a writer to make just a few dollars. And yet decades after their deaths they are quite known in their various fields of study. They were out of step with the rest of the world. They were scorned, under-appreciated and mocked. And now they are loved, revered and awed. They followed a path seen only by them. They did not deviate. They followed till the end, regardless what that end beheld.
We must do the same. We must listen to our innate guide to take us there. We must forgo the opinions of all others. Life has many distractions that will try to lead us down a detour. That detour will never lead back to the road for he is Loki, Mischief personified and a false help.
Turn off your ears and close your eyes. Feel your trail. Let none occupy your mind. Let your feet go and watch were you end up for it will be worth it.
Posted in Writing | Tagged Art, Edgar Allan Poe, Johann Sebastian Bach, Literature, Loki, Orson Welle, Quote, Vincent Van Gogh, Writing | Leave a Comment »
“In films murders are always very clean. I show how difficult it is and what a messy thing it is to kill a man.” - Alfred Hitchcock
Some find it disturbing that I spend time completing murder. Of fictional characters, yes, but the notion is still there. How can someone think of something so twisted? How can someone read books about asphyxiation or decapitation without despair? How can someone study pictures of human remains without grimacing? For me, it started as an unconscious attempt of immersion therapy.
Everyone is born dying. Some are just more aware of it than others. I’m prone to cancerous moles. I was practically born with one. I remember as a toddler going to the doctor to get a small mole on my thigh freeze off. It came back. Again. And again. By the time I was five it was about the size of a nickel and quite dark. The doctor said I needed surgery. Or it will kill me by the time I hit puberty. Went under. Came out. I was fine. But I had a scar that would grow to be two and a half inches long with an indent running the entire thing. The cancer was so deep they had to dig into my muscle. I was told that this was not a one off thing. It could come back. But as a young thing I didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation.
I was a precocious child. Desisting lizard eggs. Trying to convince mother that since marshmallows has less sugar than milk I should be able to eat them all the time. Figuring out how to rearrange furniture for maximum benefit faster than either my parents. But no matter how intelligent I was, death never seemed to bother me. It was an abstract idea that my concrete brain could not comprehend. It wasn’t till I was eight when it knocked me upside the head.
I was at my grandparents for the summer. We went to a funeral. A toddler died of brain cancer. We shared the same favorite chips, pizza flavored Pringles. Nothing flushes out the abstract like an example. For the next six years I would cry, scream and whimper if I came near a graveyard. I was able to force myself to go to a grownup friend’s funeral during that time. But guilt overrides every other emotion I felt that day, the last time I was with her I acted like a spoiled brat. And yet she still gave me a story book to say she was sorry about the confusion of going to a rollerblading rink instead of an ice skating one.
I was in the band from sixth to twelfth grade. I play the flute. And the high school I went to for my ninth year held a tradition on Veteran’s Day. We play at the local cemetery. On top of the graves. Not beside. I dreaded it. But I had no choice. I played. But kept my feet off the grass the best I could. And when I had to step upon the lush green, I walked around the plots. I knew that necrophobia was irrational. And I hate being irrational. So it was shortly after Veteran’s Day that I become fascinated about forensics.
To get over a phobia, one has to understand it. And so I did. Some might call me strange or morbid but…I rather be weird than illogical.
Posted in Life, Personal | Tagged Alfred Hitchcock, Inspiration, Life, Murder, Necrophobia, Quote, Thoughts, Wisdom | Leave a Comment »