Phased 2,0

I managed to write 700 words on Phased version 2.0 today. Pathetic amount, I know, but this is something I've been meaning to start for weeks, so to actually DO something on it, even if only a little bit, is a huge step for me. Especially considering the fact that my perpetual case of writers' block is temporarily gone. I actually WANT to write more on this. And that's the key to keeping this going.

So here's the beginning excerpt:

Chapter One:
At eleven AM, my alarm forcefully jolted me awake. For a moment I shoved my head deeper into my pillow, but alas, I knew there wasn't much choice. In two hours I had to be to work, which left me an hour and a half to shower, style my hair, find some clothes, put on some make up, and scrounge up a little food.
As I got into the shower and let the hot water run over my skin to wake up a little, I found myself muttering a famous old war tune.
“Oh, how I hate to get in the morning... oh, how I long to remain in bed...”
Ten minutes later, the song was still in my head while I used the blow dryer on my hair.
“Someday I'm going to murder the bugler... someday they're going to find him dead. I'll amputate his reveille and step upon it heavily and spend the rest of my life in bed...”
While the lyrics were very specific to an army bugler, I had thoughts geared more toward my alarm clock. It was ugly anyway. I needed a new one. Maybe one that had kittens on it? Yes. Kittens made everything better.
Another ten minutes, and my hair was nearly dry and on its way to being styled. I worked on it with precise care. Freshly dyed black and cut in layers from the chin up, I was still in the phase of actually caring what it looked like. In another two months when my ugly brown regrowth really started to show and I couldn't get the mane as a whole to cooperate, I wouldn't be going to so much trouble. Dried and shaped, I added some greasy product to make it look piecey and gorgeous and threw in a cutesy little red bow for the hell of it. It looked weird with my numerous ear piercings, but I liked freaking out the conservative old people anyway.
Next up were clothes. Easy. I threw on a wide fishnet undershirt over my black bra, then added a black tank lined with studs along the neckline. The Gothic red lettering on the front spelled out “Devil Doll”, a little touch I had added in tribute to a retro-style Jazz singer. After the top was ready to go, I wriggled into a pair of old jeans torn up at the knee and slipped on a pair of black sneakers.
Make up. Luckily, I had plenty of time for this one. It took me about twenty to thirty minutes to put on make up, but only because I did the whole shebang. Foundation (no blush, though, because I kind of liked the pale-as-the-driven-snow look), eye shadow (the dark, smokin' look), eyeliner (again, heavy and dark), mascara, and a touch of coral lipstick to add some color. I went so far as to spray on a tangy hint of perfume, but I'd never confess to it. I was too hardcore for anything as feminine as perfume. There. All done. The awesomeness of my dark eye makeup almost justified my boring brown eyes. I would've given anything to have a cool color, like blue... or purple.
With about twenty minutes left for food before I had to leave, things were looking swell. But I really didn't have much of an appetite. I attributed my lack of hunger to the fact that I had just woken up, so instead of breakfast, I nicked a chocolate bar from the fridge and headed to work almost an hour early. The way I saw it, I'd have plenty of time to get work, and could hang out with some of the new friends I'd made before I actually had to start helping people.
I was new to Salt Lake City, as of two months ago. As soon as my mom and I had gotten here (my dad remained in Seattle after the divorce), my mom insisted that I go out and find a job. She said it would give me something productive to do over the summer before my Senior year of high school started. So I had set out, and after weeks of searching, gotten the perfect position. Lo and behold, I was a barista at a little local joint named Bad Ass Coffee. It was fantastic.

And... end quote. At this point, I had to go do some other things pertaining to life. However, I'm very satisfied with this beginning. I feel like it's entertaining and hooks the reader, and I'm motivated to keep writing, and I know where I'm going from here (at least, for this chapter). I'm hoping that this Phased revision will come out well.

Also, just for fun, I created a doll of the main character (Cleo Hellbusch is her name.. yes, Hellbusch is a real name. I got it from the writer of a gardening magazine XD), and even though it's cartoony, it gets the point across of what she's all about. In fact, this is pretty much that first outfit she (I) describes. So that's what the freaky little monster at the top of the blog is.

All's well that ends well! So g'night, folks! :D