I haven’t posted properly in quite a while. This is mostly because I’ve been suffering what we now know is an abhorrent sleeping pattern. I kid you not. These beasts will ruin your waking hours and your natural habits. I’ve just eaten chocolate brownies for breakfast at nearly four in the afternoon. This is what my life has become.
I was actually really tired at a normal time last night… but then I couldn’t sleep because certain characters decided to start an argument about a scene I haven’t even written yet. At least they’re enthusiastic, I suppose. Still, it’s not an excuse to keep me up all night with discussions about this and that happening. It makes it especially difficult to shut one of them up, as well, because she’s a werewolf and doesn’t take any crap from anybody. That rule also applies to me. It’s nice to know that your characters are so real that they take on a mind of their own… at the same time, though, I wish I could control them. It would help me to make sure they followed the plot properly instead of going off on little tangents of their own. I should write them a letter. It would start thus:
You are fictional. Please remain fictional.
I somehow doubt that they would listen, though. I mean, I’m just their lowly writer. All I do is write about their escapades whilst they actually get involved in them. Apparently I’m being sent a letter from their lawyers about compensation claims in regards to the various injuries that they have suffered working for me. Personally, I don’t think this is fair. Why can’t I claim money off them for keeping me up all night and turning me into a paranoid wreck?
Anyway, I forgot to tell you how the ballet went. My mother has always wanted to see a ballet, so as her Mother’s Day present, we arranged to go see one. It was Swan Lake. It was very good, even though I did feel slightly put out by the lack of dialogue. I know that ballet isn’t supposed to have dialogue, but, well… it just seemed a bit odd. However, watching pretty strong guys prance about in tights was very enjoyable. I thought the jester was especially nice… until my mum pointed out that she thought he looked like my friend and therefore she ruined the entire scene I had playing out in my head. I won’t tell you about that scene. I don’t want to get sued by a ballet jester for sexual harassment as well as getting sued by my own characters. So, I had to find more entertainment, which came in the form of a very cute usher. He was tall and he had longish hair… and I really wasn’t staring at him… I was just… looking in that direction and… musing. He was looking in our direction too, but that may have been because we were near the exit and there was another usher behind us.
Nevertheless, I can’t escape an evening out with my mother without being embarrassed in some way. The first embarrassing act was that as I was leaving some old guy (and by this, I mean, I think he was a pensioner) thought it would be funny to call out that he was over there as if I’d been looking for him. I seem to be getting this a lot now. It must be a new sign that I’ve acquired above my head that says I’m an easy target for old men. It’s probably sitting right next to the sign that makes people think I’m more intelligent than I really am.
The next embarrassing thing involved the poor usher. He’d helped somebody out in a wheelchair and as he was coming back with it my mum thought that it would be a good idea to say loudly, “Oh look, Rebecca! You could have asked him to carry you out! Maybe you should give him your number!” I can affirm that I maintained eye contact with the floor and told my mother to shut up through tight lips as the poor guy looked up at me whilst we passed by. This is a very good reason why I don’t go out with my mum.
(Lyrics in the title are from Characters by The Elation)
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