Sep 21, 2017

Brain Drain

I'm trying to write about Starmada, but my brain is a mite distracted. This won't be very long or interesting. (She might have said something like that.) However, it serves the purpose.

I'm sure I told you about Brain Drain — at least once some while ago. No, I am not referring to Brain Drain pills in the movie We're Back.

I am instead talking about the little exercise I have my students do before writing in earnest. I usually have them sit and write for 9 minutes about nothing and everything and whatever. I really want them to write 7 minutes, but I give them 1 minute to dawdle at the beginning and 1 minute to waste their time during the task. I would prefer that they neither dawdled nor wasted, but, alas, I work with what I have.

I love the looks on their faces when I crumple up and throw out the scraps of paper.

I make it very clear beforehand that the task is to write garbage so that the garbage is out of the way when we set ourselves to a real assignment. Typically, they like to pretend their scribblings were important. Obviously, all writing is important, but not all writing should be preserved. This is not even to mention whether it should be displayed.

By gum! Most of my rambling should not be preserved, but digital space is plentiful, and you may either take it or leave it.

Funny story, I am, in essence, Brain Draining right now because I need to write about Starmada.

You should try it sometime. You should write in general of course, but Brain Draining helps tremendously. Some days, I've had to drain twice or more because of how much sticky distraction was clinging to my brain.

My friends, you really should write!

I've heard all the excuses for not writing. Not one of them is effective.

Too little time? Nobody said you have to write a novel every day! I recommend just a little bit every day: a paragraph, a sentence, a thought, or a mere phrase.
No good at writing? Not many are good at writing, but that doesn't stop the shelves from being stocked with tripe.
Writing isn't your "thing"? You've never properly tried it, so you don't even know!
Nobody would want to read it? Since when does your existence orbit around people's approval? (If it does, I suppose you have other issues on your hands.)
Writing isn't useful? If you've lowered yourself to that excuse, you, once again, have far more dire issues on your hands.

Writing isn't some sudden, magical transition from fearful thoguhts to flourishing novels. It's just the slow, steady pursuit of understanding yourself and the world around you by thinking about it with words.

Moral of the story: go frikkin write!

Sep 20, 2017

The Kind of Love You Need

Have you ever met that kind of person that JUST scares you?

You know they are safe and kind and mean well and pay their taxes and say please and thank you and smile and would buy you coffee if you asked, but they just scare you?

I'm not sure what it is. It's something in the eyes or the voice or the mannerisms. It's something in the way they walk toward and away from you. Sometimes, they wear glasses; this makes their eyes seem that much larger — or smaller. It's just plain freaky.

CHEESEBURGERS

Have you ever had bacon on pizza? Bacon on a sandwich? Bacon in an omelette? Bacon on bacon? I think the only force more powerful that love is bacon because bacon is love. I once had a crush on a lady. We both mutually decided that we weren't meant for each other, but it still hurt me in my little heart. For like two days afterwards, I decided I was just going to marry bacon because bacon never did me wrong.

In all seriousness, I wouldn't marry bacon. Bacon may be passionate and exciting, but sushi is a long-term love. Sushi is kind and caring. Sushi is smooth and healthy. You can eat piles of sushi without feeling stuffed, but you always feel well-fed. That's the kind of love you need.

My goodness, all the hearts and the feelings and the hurts. Too many feelings. For most anyway. I like all the feelings. It makes me feel crazy, which makes me feel less crazy.

Here's what I mean: the world has so many confusing things to it that I start to feel like I'm crazy. I feel like I'm crazy because my heart and mind want to make sense of things, but they can't! So I feel very crazy from the outside in. However, when I feel all the feelings, I feel crazy from the inside out, and it aligns better with my circumstances, so things seem normal and parallel.

I totally want to write a story-ific thing, but I'm feeling a bit silly and unfocused. I'm not ready for Meadowvale! Stop telling me to write Meadowvale! I'm getting there. Slowly but surely. Don't pressure me. Jeepers.

What about Seven Colors? I wrote a thing, but it hardly said anything. What about Michael? I have no idea what he's doing. What about . . . I know there's someone else out there. Who is he? Right! My elementals. They're becoming closer and closer to reality. I like them. But not right now. Maybe maybe I'll just write a randomy hoopla. I really don't like it when my computer corrects me. I wanted to write "randomy" on purpose, and he chopped off my Y! The nerve.

Grammar! Don't get me started. GRAMMAR! GAH! Don't get me started.

Really don't.

You !!!!

I said mean words.

The least offensive thing I can say at the moment is that it behooves you to improve your grammar. That is all.

I'm gonna go drivel out a random story now.

You have a nice night.

"Alot" and a Mural

Well, snap!

My next project is designing a creative writing class. I was gonna wing it together from scratch, but, now that I'm thinking about it, I should probably check out some of the writing books I've collected through the years. I suppose I can still format the sessions, set up the general tasks, or whatever.

Did you know that I love writing? I love it. I love it a lot.

Question: How do people still manage to write "alot"? If auto-correct doesn't get you, at least the red underline should give you a hint. Did you know that some people with PhDs write "alot"? I can't imagine, after earning the title "Dr.," that I'd be comfortable saying "alot."

In other news, my hands feel sticky.

In other other news, I'm going to get a mural.

In other^3 news, The Seven Colors is going to be pretty epic.

In other^4 news, I am not quite ready to finish up Meadowvale.

In other^5 news, I need to make Story Time with Nathan Rudolph! A friend gave me a great, great, great bit of advice about purchasing a mural as my backdrop instead of eternally fretting about where I could host my stories. Honestly, I think I should ship off and purchase that now.

Thank you for listening.

Tune in next time to hear Nathan ramble about nothing in particular once again!

Sep 19, 2017

Trash Pandas and Jumping to Conclusions

Can I tell you something? I was recently called a trash panda, and it warmed my heart.

I don't know if you've seen Guardians of the Galaxy 2 (I really recommend you do), but Peter Quill calls Rocket (the Raccoon) a trash panda when Rocket gets pissed about being called a raccoon. I've probably already told you this, but that pair of movies is deep in my heart. I love the mismatched family coming together in the first movie and sticking together in the second despite — or perhaps because of — their jarring differences.

The characters — in their own, strange ways — love each other. I love them for it.

I don't have much to say besides that just now. Tutoring is pretty groovy. I have way too many things to read and write. I hope I can teach a creative writing class series. The weather has been weird. God has given me a fine season of peace. Haters gonna hate. I've been eating more bacon. I haven't played the guitar in a long time. I exercise-ish regularly. Did I mention I've been eating a lot of bacon?

It is amazing, fantastic, impressive, and boggling how devoted some individuals are to seeing and hearing nothing. It's like some kinda magical spell or something. Does it require too much energy? Maybe. Is it too hard a skill? Probably. Who knows. I mean, how do people live like that?! I tell you what, I'm stubborn. I'm stubborn with the best of 'em, but I don't have enough energy to hear nothing all the time. That's too much energy! To be sure, I do my ignorant duty and meet my quota of not hearing, but, dude, I don't make it my day-job AND my hobby. Too much. Way too much energy.

I do so many things in the effort to conserve energy: the way I cook food (all in one dish), the way I do laundry (no sorting), the way I bathe (brush my teeth in the shower), the way I wash my car (I don't). With the way that some people jump to conclusions, you'd think they were the spawn of some kangaroo-energizer-bunny hybrid.

But I won't go there.

In other news, I like creative writing, and I think there are wonderfully simple steps to improving one's skill therewith. Like I said, that's one of the classes I hope to teach. We will see, see, see how it goes. Maybe I'll take a quick walk over to that document and see if I can formulate any more ideas about it.

Pip pip, cheerio!

Sep 14, 2017

Re-Un-Distracted

Well, snap. I got myself distracted, so I have to work out of it again.

I wasn't even trying not to focus, which is probably why I got foiled. I needed to try to focus. Whatever. Here I am, rambling again to ramble out the distraction. It's a bit of a waste of time, but sometimes you need to reset, restart, reload, or whatever.

I'm trying to write about my board game that I'm hoping to make some day. I need to find a space for reading and recording! I need a space.

In other news, I am feeling very warm. Air conditioning is now making me feel less warm. Lovely.

I'm feeling a dash less distracted, but there are a bunch of things on my mind. Tomorrow is on my mind. This past Saturday is on my mind like the superluminal jets on an active galactic nucleus. My paintings are on my mind. The need for a recording space is on my mind. Tonight is on my mind. Too much is on my mind, and I'm trying to let it sift out for a bit.

How do you quiet your brain? Usually, I just need to write, and my thoughts become a lot more sorted. I miss my pipe. It has such a quieting effect on me overall. I miss sushi; it has a milder but similar effect.

I might be focused enough now. What do you think?

I've started word-counting like everything. Often, when I get emails, I'll check the word count. Whenever I write a post, I check it's word count. Fun fact: my "Estimated Reading Time" in minutes is determined by taking the word count and dividing it by 200. I round to the nearest minute. For example, my last post was 407 words. Boom. That's about 2 minutes.

Some guy wrote an article about wasting people's time or being up front with people about the commitment required to do/read something. I hope it's a helpful tool.

That is all.

Thank you.

Showing Up and Feeling Tired

Well, my friends, I might be teaching an origami class tomorrow.

Set me back one year in time, and I'm just toying with the idea of tutoring on my own. In the here and now, I'm determined to tutor academic subjects, teach small classes, sell paintings, publish a book, and more.

The future looks like a gritty pile of colorful adventures.

How did I get here? God's grace entirely. Inside of that, support mostly. Besides that, persistence I guess. I just kept tacking along, mentioning that I do things, taking in suggestions, and winging it. Somebody once said that 90% of success is just showing up. This seems to be so true.

For example, I make paintings, but they're kinda funky. I figured they wouldn't go in a fancy restaurant, so I almost avoided the building entirely. However, I figured why not just ask. I stroll in and have a brief chat with the guy I guess is the manager. He flips through the pictures on my phone. "This is beautiful," he remarked about the painting I call The Path. It's definitely one of my more passionate ones, but I never imagined hanging it in a restaurant!

Showing up. Stuff like that. Crazy.

In other news, I need a bloomin' library! Or like an office. Or a study. I need a well-lit place to read my literature for something like "Story Time with Nathan Rudolph." I went to a normal library that actually has a designated recording studio that people can use for free. It was too empty though: a simple, grey background. I want books behind me or a fireplace or something cozy and inviting. Maybe I could just rearrange my room? Who knows. I'm looking forward to reading my stories though. I love writing and sharing and reading.

I'm feeling kinda tired, so I don't have much to say. Once again, I don't feel like contra dancing right now. I've been sleeping really poorly. Dexter-dog doesn't help at all. He's gotten into the habit of barking late at night and/or early in the morning. I have my theories, but let's not get into that now.

I probably need to go contra dancing though. It has been too long. I'm prepared: I have my sneakers and my bandana. I'm halfway there. Meh. Nap time? Not yet.

Anywho, I'm gonna go write a random, random story about whatever I feel like writing.

Boom.

Pip pip, cheerio.

Sep 13, 2017

Mad Hatters and Steamrollers

Well, hot crossed buns and mashed potatoes! The world is craaaaaazy!
I might get my paintings hung up in a restaurant! Holy moly! What?! WHAT?!
Holy moly. I don't know how to process that. It's crazy.

In other news, I missed writing. I miss writing stories. I even wrote one recently, but I still miss it. I miss creating the worlds. I have so many worlds packed away in my heart, and I try so hard to talk about them to relieve the pressure inside.

A friend of mine once said, "You have more creativity in your little finger than I do in my whole body." I appreciate the compliment! Why is it though?! Why do I have these worlds itching to get out?! To some extent, I've worked at it. I grew up with stories, so I like stories, so I try to write stories. Still, even I am sometimes surprised at the weirdnesses that burst out when I'm not expecting it.

UGH

I'm not going there, but it pisses me off. But whatcha gonna do?

Back to it, though: I need to get just one book published so that I can start rolling like a mad hatter.

Do you know why the hatter was mad? It's because hatters used mercury to harden their hats, and mercury fumes make you crazy.

Rolling like a mad hatter! Rolling like a mad hatter on a steamroller! Bing bang boom, even if I got stuck in any one of my stories, I'd be happy.

Well, the galaxy calls, so I must be off, but thanks for listening.