A Rant To Rule Them All · 6:17am Jun 16th, 2014
Drunk Drawdex Online…
Scanning…
Target: Blog Post
My Tolerance: Low
Alchohol Intake: High
Target Available: Yes
Action: Time to Rant.
-------------------
This is a rant from a person with his life on the mile a minute, and the things he wants to do getting in the way of how the real world works. Contains, I think, spoilers, and rambles, it’s a rant, it contains rantering. So if you wish to read strange metaphors, and possibly other cultures understanding of good to bad life, join me. And maybe comment, whoever you are. And 'Ctrl+F' (The ending theme here that may be of importance to you, reader, ) if you wish to read what matters to readers only. Thanks for your cooperation.
I hate my story for one thing, not its setting or plot, or even characters, I hate the fact that it was ever out to begin with. It’s one of those things you always want to truly create right, and you, and your brainless ego, sorts you to just toss all your moneys at one piece of pie, expecting it to give you that car you always wanted. But you never get that car, or eat the pie.
The pie being self-respect, tossing being posting it on the site, and the car being a car. I have no car. I want a car. I don’t know why. I think it’s the booze.
But back to the rant before I tangent and lose my mind to getting nice flowers to girls that hate me. That bitch. I have found that I had a thousand ways to present my story. I could’ve gone to make it generic, and make it so people just had it all nice and tidy, maybe like to read it without much to think of it, but no~ I said to myself, “hey? Why don’t you make it different? Begin somewhere else, show readers the eggs (characters), the milk (setting) and then the flower (plot), and then jump to be eating the cake, without ever seeing the cake to begin with, and then show the cake, mix it up!” And if you’re too slow, that was a metaphor of me eating a cake… or it could describe how I planed my story. I know nothing and I must scream.
The thing being, from how I have started, the follow up is supposed to be thought through, well implemented, and wisely conducted. So to grace your minds with the reason for all my hate, this shit takes time, but the worst part is. It takes CONSTANT time.
You ever had that day where you found an old notebook from long ago when you were a kid, and when you open it you see all those ideas of the future you had, and you get this tickling feeling of having no idea how you got to think of all that stuff, or why? Yes? No? Maybe? In any case, picture that, every day, all your life.
Hello~ Me.
It’s a thing I had ever since I was birthed and got my weeny chopped off, or as religious people call it, circumcised, I think, I’m not sure anymore. Just understand that I got a lot of stuff written about everything, everyone, and any-case. And I do mean every-case…. Anything.
So when I leave to get updated and advance in normal not internet life, I literally, leave for life. And when I come back I find strangers that if I hadn’t written about them in my notebooks, I wouldn’t know anything about.
But that’s life, what about my story? Well, imagine my story is one of those nice old projects you have, and you want to advance that project because you feel compelled to do so, but now add that thing I talked about up there of forgetting stuff. This, for writers, is hellish demonized carnage on all its juicy glory. But hey, when you think of something, write it, right? You’ll get back to that later… yes.
I have so much written and I have no idea which to present first, or how to. I am literally drenched in tenths of hundreds of words with sense on themselves that flow with no start to set it, or end to transistor it to another pool I call chapter.
Like, I have this one scene where I show my human characters, and how they ‘function’, rationally and physically, then I have another where I have the main villain’s origin story starting all nice and good with her as a child and then villain ideals like a TCB writer that shall not be named, another where I have an old prison ‘released because reasons’ mass murderer enter Ponyville trying to find a job or something in those lines, yes this is written, and then another where I got the arrival of the steampunk humanity onto Canterlot and successfully insult everypony without noticing and Twilight having to be polite all the way within an earful without making it look forced. And that’s just four scenes! I make two a freckling day! It had been MONTHS.
But the rant is not of little poor me not being able to combine and build my scenes correctly because of stupid brain deceases or whatnot, but this is from my personal life kicking me in the nuts and calling me a wanker. I want to have success in life out here on the other side of the screen, so when I go out, I get easily drawn and forget I ever had stuff here, and when I come back home, I am alienated with what I see in my computer. Like if I didn’t write it at all!
But before I am placed in the ‘first world problems’ list, keep this in mind. I am not in the freckling first world, okay? One of the recent amazing achievements of my country was establishing an emergency number in which you can call government services at any given moment in any location of the country. But if you’re too slow to get it, here’s a hint. 9-1-1 now online. So here, being successful is getting the fuck out of this country. That’s at least the mentality people are buttered to believe since childhood. People here think ‘New York’ is a country on its own, like Boston.
That was a joke. Learn to take a joke. From the rear. Nice and easy. With a lot of lotion.
So in a country like this, there’s a system of rich, medium, and poor. Which is somewhat similar to what people in the US understand and see happen. Now, what is different from what I’ve seen in everything I’ve learned of how the US works, compared to how here works, here. So from medium down, everyone is basically slaves. If not from a bank that owns you because of the borrows you did, without your actual acknowledgement, to get into a decent school, which is medium class, then you came from the farms, or low wealth city, that makes you believe your life is for the country and idiotisizes (a common phrase here) you with silly books. Have you ever seen North Korea’s books? Imagine that, but looking in fact serious. That was until ten years ago, but for many the wound is done.
But I am what you consider the ‘first world’ here. Keep in mind, blackouts are common place, internet is a rare term for many (low class more than the others), and the government is so corrupted I got my license without making the test because apparently, I am from a “high anarchy.” I threw up for three days straight when I found out about that. I went to that driving test prepared to die, and I was asked to park it on the side of the road, and done. People don’t call our country the wildest roads in Caribbean because people respect the speed limit. Even my parents, which I love, are like this. Corrupted asses. I love them to death, but I hate everything they follow and use as guide with true passion.
But the bad thing is, if I ever want to make a different, I need to be at the top of the chain so I can screw with the putrid chunk with my bare fucking hands. Having impossible to corrupt morals helps a lot. Learned them from the internet, as astonishing and misguided as that sounds. So to be subtle, I require to have pass college and impress people in high places with my work out of the world of the cybernetic to make a footstep shake the base of industry in this country.
So here’s the deal of the ranting. I have no idea what to do. I really, really want to stay here and do stuff that makes me feel productive. I mean, I am in several projects, one with zombies, another with crusaders, I help on a story about a human turned alicorn called Mordane (it’s actually fine, I kid you not), making cover art and animations and gears of that nature, essentially the common brony artist going about its way. I am amazed I haven’t gone into making music as this stage. Everything with ponies though, heh, I guess that’s the point, huh? But I can only help in those because I am not the one to keep tabs on things, I just help it get made with as much content and connections as possible, because I’m good with that, making stuff by myself? Not so much apparently.
The ending theme here that may be of importance to you, reader, is that I may re-organize my story all over again. Change the fourth chapter so it becomes my first. That way I can follow the simple setting of ‘introduction of problem’ + ‘introduction of characters’ + ‘introduction of mystery’ formula I have going on in a way so even a retarded mentally traumatized ass with a memory disorder can follow it no problem. That way I could have the stuff organized without having to make my real life a living nightmare.
So this lovely rant is brought to you by, my loving family, my proud nation, a college close to end, and lots, and I do mean LOTS, of alcoholic satisfaction. I wrote this in less than thirty minutes. I am right now in my cellphone. It’s easy to type because it’s touch screen. And will now share this to all those that I know, because why the fuck not. And so, the brave hero will now fall flat in my face to the nearest surface with hopefully only his own juices from his stomach content making contact with his clothing. If only dreams could come true.
Tune in next time when I want answers on why people say that with alcohol one becomes a blubbering mess. I mean, I am as serious as I have ever been, if not seriouser because of the potion of courage. Bye bye now.
My ears bleed and my hair has been swept back....
damn.
2211347 Hopefully from this blog and not from something actually bad, I hope.
... Drawdex, how intoxicated were you last night? Are you cool, bro?
2212206
It was strange really. I was intoxicated enough to see three people when there was only one
, threw up several times
, and passed out and in to consciousness enough times to be asked kindly, and forcefully, to stay at a friendly hospital a few hours just to see if I was fine
. But I was with complete, somewhat, control of my faculties given that I can remember everything with the most amazing detail.
But it was only in the reasoning department that was fine and dandy, the ‘keep thoughts to yourself’ branch of brain goverment was in a spin the wheel of secrets game, hence this blog. It has my most personal opinions and thoughts in minuscule detail for the world to read.
But after all is written and done, I am fine with the blog here, weirded out, but since in the end, it’s a blog for me to write on, I'll let it stay. Though I dislike bothering other people with my issues. Unless it’s their problem as well.
And thanks for asking, yes I am okay.