I Was Wondering...
... when my life started to get so hectic.
When I was 14 my only worry in life was to get prep done on time, try to get out of sports on as many occassions as possible, and not to fail exams.
I was also extremely bored most of the time and even started writing a novella which featured a very urbane and erudite male vampire (inspired through angst driven readings of Anne Rice) who was broody and charming to his victims. The only cringeworthy thing that makes me turn red when I re-read my teenage perceptions on what construed real grown up charm and the rest is that my character was called Kevin.
Oh the shame of it...
Anyway, in amongst the hustle and bustle of life and all the work I am doing, I take time out to blog, because its very therapeutic getting all your thoughts out of your head and onto a space where everyone can then comment on them. Like a coffee possé, but without all the chatter and hiss of the Gaggia espresso makers, or the annoyance of baristas that always give me the wrong coffee.
Blogging has become addictive and I have become compulsive, and I trawl through the pages of some while I'm supposed to be doing other things. And then I moan that I never have enough time to do things. Then I realise and shut myself up.
Went out with a friend last night, one that I haven't seen for a very long time and it was nice to catch up with him. I've been commissioned (tentatively) to create a piece of artwork for his new flat, and I'm looking forward to doing it after exams. Made me realise that my creative streak has been sapped and replaced with equations and physiolgical ion balances et al.
I'd like to write another short story, or even a novel. Something light and frivolous. But then I realise that blogging fulfills this functions, and I don't have to create characters and plots.
And certainly not make up names that make me cringe.
When I was 14 my only worry in life was to get prep done on time, try to get out of sports on as many occassions as possible, and not to fail exams.
I was also extremely bored most of the time and even started writing a novella which featured a very urbane and erudite male vampire (inspired through angst driven readings of Anne Rice) who was broody and charming to his victims. The only cringeworthy thing that makes me turn red when I re-read my teenage perceptions on what construed real grown up charm and the rest is that my character was called Kevin.
Oh the shame of it...
Anyway, in amongst the hustle and bustle of life and all the work I am doing, I take time out to blog, because its very therapeutic getting all your thoughts out of your head and onto a space where everyone can then comment on them. Like a coffee possé, but without all the chatter and hiss of the Gaggia espresso makers, or the annoyance of baristas that always give me the wrong coffee.
Blogging has become addictive and I have become compulsive, and I trawl through the pages of some while I'm supposed to be doing other things. And then I moan that I never have enough time to do things. Then I realise and shut myself up.
Went out with a friend last night, one that I haven't seen for a very long time and it was nice to catch up with him. I've been commissioned (tentatively) to create a piece of artwork for his new flat, and I'm looking forward to doing it after exams. Made me realise that my creative streak has been sapped and replaced with equations and physiolgical ion balances et al.
I'd like to write another short story, or even a novel. Something light and frivolous. But then I realise that blogging fulfills this functions, and I don't have to create characters and plots.
And certainly not make up names that make me cringe.
posted by Marmoset at
3:44 pm
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