Life presses on. Unfortunately tonight I don't offer much in terms of cohesion: I always feel as if I'm abusing my power as a writer when I publish these disjointed and subheading-laden posts, but I fear that the cocktail that is a mixture of the itch to write something with a bunch of semi-topics floating around in my head (all pressing enough to be written though not significant enough to stand alone) proves to be a little bit too toxic for me and my creative standstill to handle. My antidote, then, is this: voila. (besides, I think this lets me get lighthearted and silly if I intend for these little snippets of my borderline obsessive-compulsive - though always illuminatingly charming - thought process to exist on the basis of humour, anyways)
It has happened.
My obsession with this girl is so, so far gone. In fact, scroll down the main page of my blog and you'll see not one but two images of the beauty (two out of three, if you count Madonna's endless tripping. Silly, silly Madonna), and here's a third. Rejoice!
I'm still very aware that Lana Del Rey has an extremely polarizing effect: you will love her voice, or you will hate it; you will love her songs, or you will hate them; you will see her as a travesty live, or you will see her as refreshing. (I'll say that I think she's got some work to do when singing live but I won't hold some inexperience and nerves against her) Yeah, yeah, I drone on about her. She's commandeered my iTunes, especially now that I've downloaded demos and unreleased songs and her first unofficial and unreleased full length album on top of Born to Die which was only released a month ago. Point is, she's my new it when it comes to music; suffice to say I got myself a little bit sick of Lady Gaga and the obsession I've had for her - still love her, not to worry - but as she's faded from the forefront for now and her music's grown really stale for me (BTW, unfortunately, does not have a lasting effect, and I'm patiently waiting for what's next), I desperately needed something else. Now I've gone and went gaga over another.
An update from the land of television
Speaking of things I've let get a hold on me this year: my love for television, the love that gets me through my single, free-time ridden nights here holed up in my room on residence. (doesn't help I've gone into the deep end when it comes to torrents, and they are now my entire existence) The Walking Dead's latest offing had me staring at shock upon my computer screen, and though I blame Twitter's trending topics for spoiling the massive character for me minutes before I started my video, I was still taken aback by the violent manner of this character's end as well as feeling slightly affected (although I didn't like them at all) by the brutal emotion from the rest of the cast of characters as they came across the devastation. Well done, cast. As for Smash, I'm coming off of an emotionally charged episode aired only tonight with a sizable shocker in its final minutes, and I'd really implore anyone with an inkling of interest in Broadway (and I don't even mean you need to love it; just a flare for the performance) to watch it, because the performances are incredible and I'm impressed at the quality of writing for an NBC show. On a related note: stop what you are doing right now and watch Awake. If you haven't heard of it, it only just premiered on Thursday, and the basic concept is a man, after getting in a car accident with his wife and son, experiences two separate realities on an alternating daily basis where out of his wife and son one is alive and the other is dead, and vice versa. The mystery of the show is the thinking that: is one a dream? Are both real? Neither? The psychology is interesting, as is the fact that the two cases the protagonist works - he's a cop with two different partners depending on the "world" - begin to overlap with each other. Quality at its finest, I promise you. Finally, working off of "quality," I recently watched the Canadian miniseries Bomb Girls on suggestion from a friend, six episodes dealing with the women workers of a bomb factory during World War II. Great television, especially for a Canadian production: I'd wager that, in recent memory, I have not adhered to characters as quickly as I did with this series - specifically a tomboyish worker and her growing attachment to another, a meek runaway - and the finale is heartbreaking. Interesting on the historical side and compelling in terms of the drama.
But go watch Awake. Now. If it means not reading on, so be it - I've already got your page visits. ;)
A personal challenge
You may think to yourself that, damn, I must have a ton of free time on my hands to watch as much television as I do (all of the aforementioned plus many more), and you'd be right. In the final haul of the semester, I only have three essays to turn in - the first, I've finished; the second has an alternative creative assignment option I might take heed of; the third is based on Watchmen, so let's all laugh out loud at the ease this will pose for me - and just two final tests in the last week, both in film classes which knock on wood aren't a grand challenge for me. And so, with all this free time: I'm sure you recall my venture into the world of fiction once again with my attempt at NaNoWriMo this past November, so I thought to myself, "why not make things full circle and do it again for the final third of my semester?" It's true that my November was relatively stress-free regardless of the sheer amount of work I had to do, but I attribute that entirely to having a creative outlet. I recently reread what I managed in November and I've decided I've fallen out of love with my concept; and yet, reading the words made me yearn for that output once more. This brings us to now, as I sit on top of a solid concept with an actual direction this time as well as a brief 3000 words under my belt. Naturally, there's no time constraint this time, which I think might encourage my ongoing writing past the close of my semester.
Tis my life. I eat a lot of cafeteria food because of the amount of money left on my meal plan, and I cackle in my room at the anomalies of my life with my trusted fellow assholes a swift text message away, beer in hand optional. Oh, and Lana's probably playing. She is now.