Freak Thoughts

Trying to figure out a good title for my story. It has been untitled since it came to me as a first idea. So is there anything that comes to your mind when you think of my story?

I am currently adding the last pieces of needed information to my story. I still have one voice in italics that has long portions of description of Heaven, it’s rules, and sometimes incorporates the main characters.

My problem is finding a voice for this. I feel that I have decided on Raphael to be writing this or thinking it. My reasoning for this is:
1. Lucifer fell. (a friend of Michael)
2. Gabriel (his eluded lover) took the fall for him.
3. Michael (Lucifer’s friend and Raphael’s confronter) took a stand against the council and became Gaven.

This would leave the only Archangel with characterization in Heaven being Raphael. He could be telling someone these rules or stories. He is the only one who would hold any true emotion toward any of this. The rest would merely be doing their duty.

What do you think of this?

Just want to thank the class for the discussion today. It really helped me figure out exactly what I have to do moving forward.

So. Yeah. Thanks.

Immensely sorry for making you read 27 pages,
-Garrett

I have kept journals all my life. Laying down in bed, recapping my day, speaking to this book that I wanted no one to read, yet thought so hard about. I can reread these old books and laugh, but back then it was my life, it was my biggest secret. I journaled like this up until I was 18. It drove me nuts, but I had already committed so much to journaling that I had to press on.

When I turned 19, I had had my computer for a semester. I was ready to fill it with my journal entries of the future, but something stirred in me. Something that made me HAVE to make journaling fun again. Or simply stop it all together.

I eventually came up with the idea to write journals as a narrative. Something that I am saying, in actual dialogue, something meant to be read out loud. I had also realized that no one cares what I had for breakfast, not even me, and what is important is perceived, felt, and thought.

Since then, my journal is complete, and I have started a new one. Below is an excerpt from that journal.

“…it’s that feeling you get just before you jump over the cliff’s edge. That tremendous and eruptious lurching in your heart, your ribs ache and the beats of your heart slam against your sternum. Your knees grow weak and the mind is consumed to a soft pudding of emotion behind which are only rose tinted thoughts, dreams and a skewed vision of reality, wrong in almost every way, but right because you made it so in your blinded eyes. Some would call it love, I call it a complete loss of yourself, everything you are, everything you want to be is now potentially compromised and it might all be for nothing, after all, nothing is pure, nothing is JUST out of innocence, every punch is meant to hurt and every comment is meant to earn a reaction, even if the reaction is nothing, for even nothing can be perceived and used. This love, this all consuming, disastrous being, this monster, this zombie creator that is love…is simply horrifying.
I am tired of the abusers of love, for love is abusive enough, it forces you to fall, for you do not rise up into love, you do not climb to that level with someone, you dig your grave with them, for only by death do you part. I loathe the men who dream of cheating, I hate the comments about how they love their significants and yet, complain and wonder about other options. I despise the women who enthrall themselves to the men made of lies. I mock the girl who walks from the one who matters, not for someone else, but for herself, one should never cave to love as if it necessary for survival, but nor shall you stumble away from it out of selfishness. And when she realizes that she is alone…that will be simply horrifying.
The deeper you dig your trench, trying to leave a mark on the impervious world, it becomes clearer, you cannot change anything in the grand scheme of things. For many, it is bothersome, it hurts them that they are insignificant, that they, the great ones, who are the worlds future, are not cared for because no one gives a damn, especially the world. For me? For me it is only comforting that I can effect people on a personal basis, I can kill, resurrect, punish, or save, the world doesn’t mind, it might convict me, but it doesn’t care. At least I know that by not being able to change the world, I can’t screw it up too bad either. The leaders have no power and the blood spills only because we want tears to fall, nothing is all there is, and for what is, is not known, and what is known, is a lie, for under every fact, lies another, under those rests even more, eventually, we run out of knowledge and are left with nothing, everything we know, is based upon nothing, for even our own existence, our gods, and our hope for purpose, while believed in, is still unknown, and that… is simply horrifying…”

~Excerpt From “The Life of Alone: An Oral History of my Nineteenth Year” a completed biography by Garrett Radant

Notice that this quite literally is an ongoing rant of my own. This can lead to grammatical errors, especially run-on sentences. When I finished writing for the day, I just stopped. I would the pick up the same idea, or a totally different when I sat down to write the next day. I never dated entries. It was and is very different to normal journaling, what do you think about my revision to classic journaling?

Thanks for reading.

Side Note: I used to have this old notebook filled with quotes or lines that came to me at the time. Over the years, I used those single lines in other pieces and such. What i had left was all of these “What i want…” quotes. I decided to use them all, whether or not they were totally cohesive. This is what I ended up with.

“I want your mind to wander to me because I want you to know I exist when I am not within sight. I want your face to look in the mirror, envision your lips covered with mine and I want you to get that grin on your face when you know that you won. I want to bend backwards for you, until I break. I never want to let you down, but I want you to understand that I cannot be trusted. I want to go to out on the town, letting the car take us where it pleases. I want us to share gifts that we get from others, except chocolate, I want us both to know that sharing chocolate never works out quite right. I want you to make the moves every once in a while, sometimes feeling desired is better than getting what you want. I want you to understand that I am not the type of guy who needs time away from you, just the situation. I want you to know that I won’t tell you every little thing because I enjoy some level of introspection. I want to enjoy the simple things with you; nature, the unknown and forever. I want you to know that I will never search for you, not because I am arrogant, but because “meant to be” doesn’t require fate, it requires “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey. I want happiness to be over looked and raindrops to be celebrated. I want to look over the waves with you, splashing into each others wonders, dreams and desires. I want the soft grass to grow wet around us as morning dew and the sun rise in unison, for we have lost track of time under the moonlit night. I want everything you have to offer, but even more than that, I want your word that everything will be okay when I wake up…do I have your word?”

Now I know the above work is not perfect. I know it isn’t all cohesive. I know it doesn’t have this amazing underlying meaning. But it is a work years in the making and it happened without my knowledge. I have since started a new notebook with just lines that do not have a home yet. However, I fear I will never be able to recreate this experience again.

I know it is an obvious thing to do as a writer, but walking around with a notebook that I can simply jot down a line or thought in has helped me with writing more than anything anyone has ever told me. See, I feel that ingenious ideas comes to us everyday, we just ignore it. I am not going to tell you what to do, but here is a thought to consider:

Do you want to be the one ignoring genius? Or even worse, yourself?