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ravenMy journal's apparently been in read-only mode for much of the day. I sense devilment afoot.
The day has been one of some revision, some writing and a lot of listening obsessively to OK Go.
Well, make that attempts at writing and listening obsessively to OK Go. Pedar has decided he's not letting me have the modem on my computer until after my exams are over, which would be a very tough-love, it's for your own good type gesture if I weren't absolutely certain that the only reason he's done it is so he can have the modem to himself for a month. Therefore, downloading music is out of the question and as I only have the one song by the band, I've been listening to that obsessively.
As for the writing, well, I've been finding it very hard to write lately. My fic output has dwindled to almost nothing, and although I'm sure no-one's really paying that much attention, I've noticed I'm making less entries and their average length is getting shorter. Similarly with pen and paper - zilch. Nothing. There's any number of reasons to explain this, but I'd rather not go down the justification route. I'm just not writing.
That said, I did manage a five-minute fic response. It was done in five minutes precisely because of my lack of ideas.
Mines
by Raven
In time, the smoke and dust cleared from the exploding mines. It was changes in weather that made them explode suddenly – expansion and contraction, high school physics explained it very well.
That didn’t mean they weren’t extremely disturbing when they spontaneously detonated close at hand. Hawkeye jumped and swore as it happened – the explosion did nothing but melt some snow and frighten some rabbits, but it shattered the surgeon’s nerves for the time being. Radar, whose slight connection to the otherworldly had warned him barely in advance, watched his friend impassively, seemingly unaffected by the shock and noise.
“Jesus,” Hawkeye said. “Radar, don’t pick up bad language from me, will you?”
Radar shook his head, and they continued. This was a job for the enlisted men, Radar had told Hawkeye. This wasn’t something he should be involved in, begging his pardon, but he was an officer. Hawkeye had said something about “the Frank Burns school of delegation” and remained adamant. He wanted to see how it was done, to help out. So here he was, in the chilly winter morning, and the silence had been unbroken until the explosion.
They trudged on. Hawkeye was engaged in shivering and stamping his feet to keep warm, so it wasn’t until Radar said softly, “We’re here,” that he realised they’d arrived.
“Here.” Radar threw him a shovel, and he began to dig. His surgeon’s hands were soon thick with dirt and almost immobile from cold, but he dug. Between them, he and Radar dug just as much as was necessary. This field would make good fertile land for some impoverished South Korean farmer, Hawkeye thought, and was suddenly inwardly shocked at the callousness and sheer horror of the thought.
Radar lifted the tarp, and they got to it. There was a note of hysteria in Hawkeye’s voice when at last he spoke.
“BJ’s going to ask me where I’ve been all morning,” he said, “and I’m going to say, I’ve been burying arms and legs!”
*fin*
I've revised history today, but there's so much of it that it gets me feeling hopeless. I went on to French without much luck, and I don't want to try English Literature because it reminds me of how much of a mess I'm going to make on Wednesday.
This isn't really going very well. I wish I felt better.
The day has been one of some revision, some writing and a lot of listening obsessively to OK Go.
Well, make that attempts at writing and listening obsessively to OK Go. Pedar has decided he's not letting me have the modem on my computer until after my exams are over, which would be a very tough-love, it's for your own good type gesture if I weren't absolutely certain that the only reason he's done it is so he can have the modem to himself for a month. Therefore, downloading music is out of the question and as I only have the one song by the band, I've been listening to that obsessively.
As for the writing, well, I've been finding it very hard to write lately. My fic output has dwindled to almost nothing, and although I'm sure no-one's really paying that much attention, I've noticed I'm making less entries and their average length is getting shorter. Similarly with pen and paper - zilch. Nothing. There's any number of reasons to explain this, but I'd rather not go down the justification route. I'm just not writing.
That said, I did manage a five-minute fic response. It was done in five minutes precisely because of my lack of ideas.
Mines
by Raven
In time, the smoke and dust cleared from the exploding mines. It was changes in weather that made them explode suddenly – expansion and contraction, high school physics explained it very well.
That didn’t mean they weren’t extremely disturbing when they spontaneously detonated close at hand. Hawkeye jumped and swore as it happened – the explosion did nothing but melt some snow and frighten some rabbits, but it shattered the surgeon’s nerves for the time being. Radar, whose slight connection to the otherworldly had warned him barely in advance, watched his friend impassively, seemingly unaffected by the shock and noise.
“Jesus,” Hawkeye said. “Radar, don’t pick up bad language from me, will you?”
Radar shook his head, and they continued. This was a job for the enlisted men, Radar had told Hawkeye. This wasn’t something he should be involved in, begging his pardon, but he was an officer. Hawkeye had said something about “the Frank Burns school of delegation” and remained adamant. He wanted to see how it was done, to help out. So here he was, in the chilly winter morning, and the silence had been unbroken until the explosion.
They trudged on. Hawkeye was engaged in shivering and stamping his feet to keep warm, so it wasn’t until Radar said softly, “We’re here,” that he realised they’d arrived.
“Here.” Radar threw him a shovel, and he began to dig. His surgeon’s hands were soon thick with dirt and almost immobile from cold, but he dug. Between them, he and Radar dug just as much as was necessary. This field would make good fertile land for some impoverished South Korean farmer, Hawkeye thought, and was suddenly inwardly shocked at the callousness and sheer horror of the thought.
Radar lifted the tarp, and they got to it. There was a note of hysteria in Hawkeye’s voice when at last he spoke.
“BJ’s going to ask me where I’ve been all morning,” he said, “and I’m going to say, I’ve been burying arms and legs!”
*fin*
I've revised history today, but there's so much of it that it gets me feeling hopeless. I went on to French without much luck, and I don't want to try English Literature because it reminds me of how much of a mess I'm going to make on Wednesday.
This isn't really going very well. I wish I felt better.
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no subject
on 2003-05-18 04:32 pm (UTC)Don't fret about not being able to write much lately. It will come back... can't be forced. No need to justify it to anyone, either. :)
And I do hope you can wheedle the modem out of Pedar at least for some short sanity breaks!
Re:
on 2003-05-19 01:27 am (UTC)The modem, alas, is a lost cause. Last night, Pedar discovered eBay!