Sunday, November 19, 2006
I'm Cuckoo Batshit Crazy
It has been two weeks since I began my NaNoWriMo endeavours, and those of you who check back from time to time (bless your soul) must be wondering where did all the written words went.
Well, I kid you not: As of now I have actually written very close to nothing. I don't actually have very convincing excuses to fend off allegations of laziness, so I'll be frank and admit that I've been gaming too much, and whenever I'm not caught up with computer games (the devil!), I'm doing work (of the planning-a-year-end-camp kind, applications still open, hint, hint).
Oh wait, that's an excuse. Ha ha. And pretty much the rest of this post is an excuse, too: Justifications created by a person to fool himself into believing that there was an external force in making him fall short of his intended goal(s).
*Cough*
However, even with only 10 days remaining on the NaNoWriMo clock, I remain hilariously optimistic. You could say that I am the kind of fellow who would deliberate over what to have for lunch even as he discovers that his parachute is faulty while skydiving ("Who knows, I could fall into the sea and become comatose instead of dying, but the doctors had better wake me up before it's already time for tea"). Even when faced with seemingly insurmountable odds, I can still stare blankly at the circumstances and flash you a thumbs-up while proclaiming, in typical unflappable Malaysian fashion, "Can what..."
In this case, "what" specifically refers to writing upwards of 5,000 words a day. That's not an impossible feat, mind you, all you have to do is just throw quality out the window and engage in the verbal diarrhoea of wordcrap. That was the aim of NaNoWriMo anyway, quantity over quality; we can always edit later.
Besides, when I joined, I already told myself not to yield until the 50,000 mark is reached. When my mom heard that, she laughed, no thanks to my brilliant track record of always cheating myself with promises. So I thought, why not prove her (and myself, for once!) wrong?
Yet I wonder why I fool myself into thinking that this would all be so simple and would end happily with me drinking from the goblet of success and a 50,000 word tome - albeit a shitty one - under my arm. I thus came to the conjecture that I may have, by and large, turned cuckoo batshit crazy. Insane in the membrane, I have gone mental and lost my marbles. Claiming that my mind has gone unhinged is such a simple and ambiguous response that I should begin using it as an excuse for any kind of shit I throw myself at. Occam's razor: The simplest explanation is usually the best. And after that I emerge from the ruin absolutely guilt-free ("I was crazy back then")!
And people like me, who spend almost half their lives in front of computer monitors, take all the crazy we can get. Plus, the phrase sounds funny, so it justifies everything, eh?
In any case, expect updates on my progress to come much, much more often from now on. It'll be one hell of a wordcrap-ridden ride.
Well, I kid you not: As of now I have actually written very close to nothing. I don't actually have very convincing excuses to fend off allegations of laziness, so I'll be frank and admit that I've been gaming too much, and whenever I'm not caught up with computer games (the devil!), I'm doing work (of the planning-a-year-end-camp kind, applications still open, hint, hint).
Oh wait, that's an excuse. Ha ha. And pretty much the rest of this post is an excuse, too: Justifications created by a person to fool himself into believing that there was an external force in making him fall short of his intended goal(s).
*Cough*
However, even with only 10 days remaining on the NaNoWriMo clock, I remain hilariously optimistic. You could say that I am the kind of fellow who would deliberate over what to have for lunch even as he discovers that his parachute is faulty while skydiving ("Who knows, I could fall into the sea and become comatose instead of dying, but the doctors had better wake me up before it's already time for tea"). Even when faced with seemingly insurmountable odds, I can still stare blankly at the circumstances and flash you a thumbs-up while proclaiming, in typical unflappable Malaysian fashion, "Can what..."
In this case, "what" specifically refers to writing upwards of 5,000 words a day. That's not an impossible feat, mind you, all you have to do is just throw quality out the window and engage in the verbal diarrhoea of wordcrap. That was the aim of NaNoWriMo anyway, quantity over quality; we can always edit later.
Besides, when I joined, I already told myself not to yield until the 50,000 mark is reached. When my mom heard that, she laughed, no thanks to my brilliant track record of always cheating myself with promises. So I thought, why not prove her (and myself, for once!) wrong?
Yet I wonder why I fool myself into thinking that this would all be so simple and would end happily with me drinking from the goblet of success and a 50,000 word tome - albeit a shitty one - under my arm. I thus came to the conjecture that I may have, by and large, turned cuckoo batshit crazy. Insane in the membrane, I have gone mental and lost my marbles. Claiming that my mind has gone unhinged is such a simple and ambiguous response that I should begin using it as an excuse for any kind of shit I throw myself at. Occam's razor: The simplest explanation is usually the best. And after that I emerge from the ruin absolutely guilt-free ("I was crazy back then")!
And people like me, who spend almost half their lives in front of computer monitors, take all the crazy we can get. Plus, the phrase sounds funny, so it justifies everything, eh?
In any case, expect updates on my progress to come much, much more often from now on. It'll be one hell of a wordcrap-ridden ride.
