So I’m writer (thanks Captain Obvious), but I realise how creepy writers are just last night. For an assignment I’m writing about a character who is rather ironic (tl;dr his name is Cain and he kills his brother Abel). Thus I have to look up the religious context in which Cain and Abel are mentioned (I also watched a bit of Supernatural where Cain is in it… I hate Supernatural). Which is fine, though if you were to look at my history you’d find some weird things (aside from the fan fiction… shut up).
Cain has a power of blood manipulation (if you’ve seen Avatar: The Last Airbender – they’re basically blood benders), thus killing his brother by giving him a heart attack of sorts. Anyway, in my tabs currently I have three tumblr tabs, twitter, Facebook, Lego Marvel walkthrough (it’s kind of difficult), a webcomic, an 8tracks for the Cain character (this took a day, I was going to work on this assignment but no this mix was calling my name. Plus I needed inspiration of sorts so welcome Talking Heads, Marilyn Manson and Placebo!), a thing of Cain’s background, Instagram and (besides this post of sorts) lastly the Mother Nature Network about 5 weird things that happen after you die.
Being a writer is weird, because you have things in your history which any sane person would never have. So much research for one small detail. I want to know what happens to the blood after you die, and basically it clots and it moves with gravity to one central spot. Though I’m me, and I love researching, I love learning! I mean that’s why I went straight from secondary college to tafe because I needed to learn otherwise I’d go stir crazy. Writers are weird, they have to be everything, every profession. I don’t have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder but I can tell you a hell of a lot about it. I’ve never been to war, I’ve never lived in the 1940s, I’ve never died but I can tell you about it.
I mean I don’t mind being a writer, for being a writer I as I said before hand, become so many professions and I learn about things I will never get to experience (like going to war, or being a young adult in the 1940s). It also has me create so many unique characters that are unlike the other one (even if the majority of my male characters are arseholes with a heart of gold). So sure I can be a creep [starts singing Creep by Radiohead] with what I research but I guess the creepyness triumphs in some odd aspect. I don’t know, don’t become a writer, we’ll Google some of the weirdest things on existence.
Maybe I should shut up and stop procasternating and write this God damned assignment. I mean, it’s almost 1:30 and I haven’t written anything today and it’s due tomorrow… okay fine.
mortem auctoris 