Let's get one thing straight: this "blog" will be about nothing.

I will not try to post meaningful, life-changing events. I will shamelessly rant, ramble, and talk about horribly boring tripe.

That is me after all, a normal person with a boring life.

My name is Ordell, but many just refer to me as Kat. (Also Devil, but they're just being overly dramatic.)

So without futher ado, I welcome you to my "world."

Also, feel free to critique my writing, or anything really. I *cringe* care what about you think.

I'm freaking paranoid

So, it's my third day in college and i hate it here.

I think i'm homesick. Plus, today, I read part of a book on zombies. I think the book was called World War Z, but now I feel really, really bad.

I wish it could rain.
I miss familiarity.

Reading Scripts and Screenplay Writing

I'm currently reading the pilot episode of "Being Human."

Still can't write a script.

No creativity

Writing Weird Tales and Life Stories

I tried and I tried to write today. It was nearly impossible. The closest I got to actually writing anything was my personal essay, which, I might add, is complete nonsense right now. I try to remember what my English teacher said, which was something like, "Writing is slow and not always perfect the first time." Yet I still feel discouraged.

I guess it's because I'm trying to write a story to Weird Tales. I can't for the life of me write a creative tale. It's not in me! I begin my stories the same way each time: "(Something weird, full-stop)."

Well, anyway.

Yeah, that's it.

It Begins with "A" . . . It Ends with "Z"

Apples--none ever grew near my house, nor will there ever. Because the ground is too malnourished, and the desert cannot sustain most kinds of tree life. Corn and squash grow in abundance, however. Ditches and revenes are often used as irrigation systems for the farms on the Reservation. Ever the resourceful, Navajos and most native indians used unique farming techniques unknown to the Europeans at the time. Forgetting the main topic of the "story," I am sorry. God, I can't do this. Honestly cannot go on like this with the letters and the consistency of a story. I'm an idiot to believe I could do this. Joking to myself that I could ever become a magazine editor. Kindly put me out of my misery. Lame writing. Moronic thoughts. Never interesting.
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Sallie. Polly was her friend and they both lived together in Salt Lake. Quietly they whispered in the night, as their neighbors slept next door. Rats were caught and stewed for dinner. Sallie didn't know how to cook--but with rats it didn't really matter. Today, anyway, Polly didn't come home. Unable to sleep, Sallie stayed up, her heart beating in dread anxiety. Various times Sallie woke and each time there was sign of Polly. Windows glowed with the stirring morning, and Polly walked in. Zombified.

That was "fun."

My Eyes are the Worst

FINALLY got an eye appointment and my eyes are terrible.
I found out I am nearsighted (-5.6 on both eyes, also the examiner described it as "heavily" nearsighted)and am/or might be at risk for "detached retinas."
. . . interesting.

Also I have allergies, whoo!

Haven't felt so lucky since I checked my debt :p

Also dilated eyes SUCK!
Couldn't read my text messages and couldn't even read my prescription. :(

Well, it's over now and so is this "post."