Say To the Prince
First of all, a quick note for Elyse. Sooking, I've concluded, is much the equivalent of griping. Dictionary.com terms 'griping' as: "Informal: To complain naggingly or petulantly; grumble." I looked up the aussieslang.com site and according to them the word 'sook' is an Australian term. Sorry for the confusion there.
This whole website colour thing is really depressing. I had no idea it was so widespread. Is it like that throughout my whole website? I have no idea where to start to fix the whole problem. I've waded time and time again through all the base HTML jargon in my main page, but the problem, wherever it is, it's well camouflaged.
I'm barely HTML literate. I have bandaids over bandaids in my CSS codes which I realise if I had a little extra knowledge I could have done a much better job, but being the lazy person I am I just bluffed my way through. I remember I did make a point of choosing to use the colours they recommended as being readable on any and every computer and browser. What baffles me is how something so strange could have then happened. How is it some silly browser can't interprete the universal HEX code for white?
It's late. It's 2am here and I'm more than a little riled. My sleeping pattern has gone completely out the roof the last two weeks. I had some huge migraines and a few cases of really bad insomnia. Last night was my third 4am night, so I guess I should accept the fact that I probably still have two more hours of my day to fill.
I hate this sometimes. I don't hate it like I used to do because it doesn't affect me emotionally like it once did. I haven't sat in the corner and cried myself to sleep for months. Sometimes now it's almost fun. I'll put on the movie I've been dying to re-watch for ages or use it as an excuse to serf brainlessly across the internet. But it grows old, you know. This is the second week and I'm sick to death of waking up after lunch.
I can never get much done in half a day, and even though I might be awake half the night it's hard to do things under the glare of a bright fluro light when you're really trying every trick in the book to get to sleep early. Then of course the original reason why my sleep is so botched is because I'm having some major allergic reaction. Lately this has involved migraines, brain fog, hyper-tention, bloating, hypoglycemia reactions and it's really hard to read books when I can't focus my eyes straight or process what I'm reading.
I want to write. Maybe this is half the reason why the last two weeks have upset me so much. I can't write when my brain is exploding like this. I can't think straight or visualize what my characters might be doing.
I was laying in bed just before trying to get to sleep when a scene from Meet Me in Arabia began playing before my eyes. It was strange really. This was a scene I'd left off writing because I couldn't see it and suddenly, randomly, here it was.
It's an intriguing scene, a rather pivotal one, where the main objective is for Rebrina to have a complete breakdown in the backseat of a white convertable in the prescence of an arabian prince, a Texan, and the rather rogueishly cute guy she's already made a fool of herself more than once in front of before. I skipped to writing a later scene simply because Connor was being way too jovial, the prince wasn't saying his lines right, and Rebrina wouldn't stop crying.
It was nice when the scene came back to me with an opening line from the prince that was dripping in just enough leer and sarcaism. I could see the arabian dust swirling up behind the back wheels of the car to settle in Rebrina's flying hair and her eyes were flashing with anger instead of pooling with incontrollable tears. This was good. I could see it--then it went blank. I hate how late nights, migraines and brain fog do that.
I could begin the scene and suck the words out, but I'd hate it more than I do right now. I've tried writing through the fog before, but the lines only come out smudged and blurred.
If I was to write anything I probably should go back to Liana. I swore solemnly to Rach H, my writing partner, that I wouldn't even read Meet Me in Arabia for a year. I wanted to have the rough drat for Liana almost finished by the first week in February, which was probably a most unatainable goal, but in December I was on quite a roll. I left Liana on the brink of the most pivotal scene in the whole story and I feel almost bad for leaving her to wander the shelves of a cold Organic Dairy for so long.
It's funny how I can talk about my stories and they sound almost cool. The thoughts and connotations are much more impressive than the actual reality. I want to go hide my head in the sand when I think of my characters who repeatedly say the most piously inappropriate lines, my descriptions of arabian desert villages that make sandcastles look good, and this one British dude who's most atrocious swear word to date is "damn". I write the most inconsistent, unoriginal rubbish imaginable. I should be dragged out and hanged as the worse writer of this modern millennium.
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