Writing

I always find it so odd the way I do things. Mostly things like art and writing, but occasionally other things. The way I work is in something of a wave. In other words, I can go for months, sometimes even a year or so, without writing or drawing or anything of the sort. But then, I start getting little urges here and there. It's like a faint call that gets gradually louder and louder, building up until I can no longer take it and just explode in a burst of creativity. Like a tea pot I suppose. Boiling over with creative thought or dozens of drawings. And then, just as suddenly, days or weeks later, it has gone again, and isn't like to resurface for a while.

And currently, my writing spark has returned, however momentarily. I don't even know why it works this way. But I've been lately simply wanting to write something. It started the other night when I picked up the journal I stopped using the day we got them back and graded from my creative writing class. I doubted I'd ever really write in it again. But I did, and spent a good chunk of time writing seven pages. The next night it was six, and last night, as I was quite tired, only three. But last night I also wrote a good number of pages of fic as well.

I think the fic was written out of a combination of creativity and simple need, as it were. Every so often I return to reading Buffy fanfic, and there is a definite decline in good material. One can look back at archives and see how amazing it used to be. Not to mention that my particular flavor of ship is one that so few people ever seem to write, and the few who do do not do so very well. I am talking of Xander and Willow. Watching old reruns of the first few seasons, and even the last ones, those two have always had a really nice companionship, and it always saddened me that so few people ever try to flesh it out. And the ones that do either make it unbelievable, or have the realization come after a death, and that doesn't really count.

So of course, when you can't find what you want to read, write it yourself. That's been something of my motto at times, and if I ever get back to my flurry of fic from last night, it might not turn out so terribly. But at the very least I'm getting it out of my system for the time being.

50 First Dates, What About Bob, and The Terminal

In the last two days, I have seen all three of these movies, save What About Bob, for the first time. We watched 50 last night, and I must say, I finally completely get the appeal that Drew Barrymore has. I never really have before, but that movie totally opened my eyes. Sweet movie for sure, although I was still hoping in the end that she would regain some memory.

As for Bob, if anyone does not love that movie, I will most certainly have to beat them severely with many blunt and heavy objects until they acquiesce. Perhaps twice. Dreyfuss and Murray so make that movie.

And lastly, I have just returned from seeing the Terminal. It is only nominally a chick flick, moments really, but it sure makes me wish I had a chick to take with me. As for the movie itself, I thought it quite worth the money. It has all the good elements, save a rather, in my mind, lackluster ending that didn't resolve the more important part, but that could just be me. I also thought that the peanut can bit could have used more fleshing out, but maybe doing that would have ruined it, so I dunno. And might I add, Catherine Zeta-Jones cannot seem to do a bad movie, or look anything other than tasty. She has class, and it comes through.