3 November 1999 2:35 a.m.
That engagingly time-consuming bastard Tom had me talking until 2:30 am again and I'm damned if I can say a word to the effect of "listen I have to go." Neither of us can and that's the problem. So in between Instant Messages I just sort of flipped through my writing notebook and typed in pointless little tidbits I found scattered throughout. The fourth chapter reads like a crappy Twin Peaks spec script right now, bouncing from plot point to plot point, real-time to subconscious-time, sense to nonsense with no semblance of brilliance at all. But hopefully editing will help some. I dread editing with all the energy of my being but seeing as how I've dropped out of college to try this on for size I guess I should get with the program. I need to do laundry. It rained yesterday and so one of my shoes is ruined. You know, that is the biggest bite in the ass, when one of your shoes....just one....gets ruined in the rain. I mean, I am thoroughly pissed about this and until I can recover I won't be making significant progress. I can't even say with any certainty how just one of my shoes got left outside. I'll just shake my head and wonder about it as I'm trying to fall asleep tonight (today?). I also got sidetracked into making a website for this stupid little hackneyed story so if that tells you anything about how my mind operates post-educational-responsibility...
I need sleep and food (not necessarilly in that order) so I'll let you poor bastards get back to your lives.
In chipped black nail polish,
Veronica J. Hoffman
4 November 1999 2:30 AM
It is a cold, cold day in Florida and my own parents decided to starve me today. I didn't know that when I decided to forfeit my school-attendance duty I'd also be waiving my privelige of food. Ah, well, I was able to whip together a makeshift Chicken Parmesan Ranch Wrap that mroe or less made me sick.
A little writing completed today--Chapter Four steams on, unfettered by threats of complete senselessness. A lot of work has gone into the site. While I am still wincing over the fact that I did, in fact, pay $120 for JASC Paint Shop Pro, a program that works wonders despite a relatively lifeless package design and hardly any extras. However, the features of the program are integral to the design of this site and therefore--justification.
I can't get back into the swing of things for some reason. I need to retreat into the woods somewhere...somewhere warm...and take my little black notebook. I got so much writing done in the mornings before class...maybe I should just start driving to the college every morning, sitting in my car, and jotting down dialogue. Eventually I'd be found out. They have Campus Cops who ride around in golf carts down there. You do not want to mess with someone in a golf cart.
Oh, and I want feedback. Go here. Now.
Why do sappy 1980's teen romances make me cry, yet I considered 'One True Thing,' 'Stepmom,' and 'Notting Hill' huge pieces of sentimental tripe? I guess it has something to do with soundtracks. Hey--someone should make a really heartfelt, intelligent romance and add a bitchin' soundtrack--that would make sense, wouldn't it? Except there seems to be no such thing as an intelligent romance these days. 'It Happened One Night' was only good the first time around. Why do cheesy 80's songs mean "bitchin' soundtrack" to me? You know, my friend Gretchen and I used to listen to this radio station called 'The Zone,' where they played the best music ever known to man. We'd listen to songs and think they were brand new, and only years later would we start finding out that songs like 'Games Without Frontiers' and 'Psycho Killer' were pretty damn old. I guess that warped my mind. But--hey!--Gretchen ended up marrying this guy and later found out that *he* was the one programming all the old songs into the playlist!! Isn't that wild?!!
So, today's lessons: It's cold. Don't starve your children. I write well in my car. JASC Paint Shop Pro: worth the money but just not flashy enough. Feedback-yum. 80's songs=bitchin'.
Freezing my ass off,
Veronica J. Hoffman
Day Three (?):
9 November 1999 2:02 PM
I have not slept for 24 hours.
I have not updated this diary in 4 days.
Kinda balances out, in some grand kinda way, huh? Anyway, I've finally regained my bearings, stepped away from the increasing temptation to work on other projects (including a silly little M/K slash story that everyone knows I'll never finish), and returned to Helen consciousness (as everyone eventually does.
And everyone loves me because I added a new plot twist/character today! I introduce everyone to Floyed Harrison, the elder Harrison brother and unknowing interloper in the Helen situation.
Guess you'll meet me when I get there. I've decided to change a few things, but nothing major. Helen is 5'3'', not 5'8'' as previously reported, and....never mind, that's a chapter that hasn't even been posted yet.
I hope everyone will get more sleep than I seem to be getting. I have auditions tonight. The play is called 'No Sex Please, We're British' (Helen and the Harrison family are not British, by the by).
My back hurts. Why? *snap* Oh yeah! I HAVEN'T SLEPT FOR 24 HOURS!!!!,
Veronica J. Hoffman
Day Four (??):
November 13, 1999 2:53 AM
So the ol' subconscious sez to me, it sez: Veronica, I got some good news for you and I got some bad news. The bad news is, someone drank all your root beer. The good news is, that sorry excuse for a mutt of yours who takes his malehood far too seriously is getting neutered today.
Okay, well, cool, I sez, I can live with that.
No wait! The subconscious chimes back in. Further good news: you got the part of a prostitute named Susan in 'No Sex Please, We're British'. You don't get paid for it (the acting, that is, you sickos) but Noel gets to play your co-prostitute (say what? That's good, right?).
Alas, more bad news.
You have to go judge the First Annual Gulf Coast Community College Forensics Invitational tomorrow, which means you'll probably make like you normally do and stay up all night, go for a light walk around the park, and show up at the college with no idea what the hell you're doing or where the hell you're supposed to be, dressed in some scary outfit which will include excessive black and/or spangles. You'll glare menacingly over the frames of your purple glasses and make one or two high school kids wet their pants while you're scrutinizing their every move. You'll give first place to the kid who most reminds you of you. Then you'll disappear again as that mysterious chick who dresses funny and dropped out of college but hot damn, does she know her stuff when it comes to forensics!
Okay, crimony, am I ever going to get the chance to go see a movie this weekend?
Unless you finally get together with Noel to watch the last twenty minutes of 'The Usual Suspects', which ain't gonna happen, then no.
All right. Whatever. Good night.
By the way, forensics is competitive speech and debate,
Veronica J. Hoffman
21 November, 1999 2:29 AM
It's November 21st. Two years ago today I was came very close to being arrested for reckless endangerment. Ah, that magical call to the State Attorney's office that saved the futures of myself and six friends...ah, being led out of the minivan, one by one, hands on our heads walking backwards as I smirked at the 'Exit 69' road sign...ah, sweet innocent Gretchen hopped up on Sudafed and Dramamine, incompetent and disinterested beside me...but that's a different story. It's also Priestess Ashkta(aka NOEL)'s birthday, so let's all applaud her for not dying another year. Al I can say is she'd better like her birthday present and I'll definitely remind her that we could all be sitting in jail as we speak (as I make a point to mention everytime the group gets together, you know...life of the party here).
Looks like Veronica has been bitten by the Smutty Fan Fiction bug!!!! Three stories in one week, what the fuck are you thinking, Hoffman!?!? **slaps self madly** Hey, okay, back off, that hurt. But anyway, a thousand ships is on hold until I squeeze this last drop of delicious fan fiction from my system--it certainly seems to be getting me attention, which is more than I can say for this piece of rubbish. I take that back, I love this book. I just wish it would write itself, goddammit.
Gonna go to Noel's birthday party today. Might also rent some movies. Torture some small animals. The usual. Oo--and have some cocoa. **Leaves to get some cocoa**
Oh, sorry, forgot to wrap this up. Bye everyone. Remember: New Willenium y'all. That two thousand vault, we breakin' the lock.
Breakin' the lock,
Veronica J. Hoffman