Happiness is a Creep

So I've been writing a book lately. It reminds me a lot of The Cell (with J.Lo) and LoTR...of course. I don't want to get too much into it, because that is not the main point of this blog. But honestly, it's been a pretty creative few months.

Creativity = Insanity

I feel like I turned some sort of knobby in my head that loosened the floodgates. I can't turn it off. I see a thousand possibilities in every idea I come up with. Writing a book is the craziest thing I think I have ever done. You quite literally start tabula rasa style, and build up an entire universe. Any universe. Anything goes. And that doesn't just mean that I can make my characters as bitchy or as obsessed with The Beatles or whatever as I want, it means I can make my main characters slimy reptiles floating through the cosmos is the twenty second dimension. Or I can create an entire universe that doesn't allow you to say the word "blueberry". Or whatever. I can create languages, hammer out the complexities of their society and the societies of their world, create physical laws...I can create something out of nothing. I am god.


...No I'm kidding (kind of, remind me to talk about The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown ((and if you just groaned aloud I'm going to punch you.))).

I just had a nice argument with myself about if writing a novel is indeed creating something out of nothing, and I decided that it isn't. I am creating the words and ideas for my stories, for even my most eclectic of universes by using my brain's functions. UNLESS somehow I come up with an idea that is so abstract and insane that nothing I have ever experienced with my six hundred and twelve senses has influenced it in any way. But still, I suppose I am still producing these abstract and insane ideas with electrical synapse magic. So I guess it still doesn't come from nothing.

I'm glad you got to witness me arguing with myself. I should mention that if you disagree or have any comments whatsoever on whatever I say in my blogs, comment! I really, really love to argue. All that I ask is that you give me logical explanations of your point of view, rather than unfounded feral cat bitch fits.

I guess maybe I should introduce myself, just in case somehow someone reads my blog that doesn't already know who I am. Call me Wendy, because real names on the internet are creepy. I am 20, I live in Texas, I go to a university. I like to politely disagree. I have a lab mix, Fawkes, who is about 9 months old, and a cat, Mia, who reminds me of a disabled child. She's extremely cuddly and loving, but when you aren't looking, she poops on my bed and pees in the four corners of every room. I really love animals, I plan to either work with dogs when I grow up (NEVER!), or dabble in some counseling if I decide that I can endure another billion years of school. I also am incredibly fond of gross exaggeration. I am a stickler for grammar, I enjoy reading and spelling really big words correctly and using them in sentences. I raid every night on WoW. I am a lovely little bouquet of contradictions, here for you to enjoy.

Oh...so about happiness. That was the title of this blog, after all. I forgot. I've recently found a nice little pocket of it. It's not the new love, wild parties, good friends kind of happiness. It's the quiet, early morning coffee, daily dog walk with my boyfriend, good book in a comfy bed type of happiness. I have a routine, which I never thought I would enjoy. I feel old, and a little guilty for enjoying a stable life so much. I keep panicking a little bit, thinking, aren't people my age supposed to be getting wrecked at parties? Don't older people look back and wish that they had done more when they were young, don't they wish they could have their youth back so that they can live it up like they used to? Should I not be so stable and predictable? Shouldn't I be wearing tight dresses and dancing all night? But instead, I wake up at seven every morning, even if I don't have class. I drink coffee and read whatever is laying around my coffee table for an hour or so before I got work out. And then I go walk my dog with my boyfriend down a few really long, country roads with cows and honeysuckle hanging from the fences, and we talk about my book and his philosophy classes. We watch movies, we go on dates, we honestly love each other. And I am so, incredibly happy. Happier than I think I have been since I was a kid making up all sorts of balogna with my cousins in my grandparent's pool. It creeped up on me. Last I remember, I was an unstable, hormonal teenager with no sense or direction. Somehow I woke up one morning with an incredible compass, and starting walking in the right way with resolution. It's a much deeper happiness than just running around going to parties with friends. I can hardly explain it. But I think I like it.


Anyway, I have to go to the dog park, but I'm sure I'll be back rattling away later tonight. Once I get my motor running, it's hard for me to shut it off.

<3 Wendy