three full days of the runs have doused my passionate call for civic action and world peace, but i am too in love with eggs florentine and morton’s (free) steak sandwiches to abstain from food so that things could be just that little bit better, so i shall retire meekly and whine about other things instead.
like how work returns after a brief lull – not in the form of a pleasant drizzle, but rather, all at once like a sudden cold shower. i have too much work again, and am somewhat torn between relief and despair. and i hate it when i cannot settle on a single emotion, so it has generally been an annoying day.
the weather won’t settle into any sort of permanency either. i strutted out with my sunglasses at three in the afternoon today, only to remove them and don a cardigan just two hours later because it started to pour. and pour. and pour. i haven’t been friends with sunglasses for something like… ten years (because when you are young and poor, you can generally only afford the variety that makes you look like you need a white cane too). i suppose i should be grateful that i could be as pretentious as i wanted to be for at least a couple of hours.
and in the vein of young bloggers who like to detail every single thing that happened in their lives, and every single thing they have to do in the next twenty-four hours – did i mention that i have yet to look through that nightmare of a piece for tomorrow’s practice; nor have i learnt the arias for voice class the day after (incidentally, the new assignment is due that very same morning); nor have i completed the photo-video i am supposed to be making for The Bride on behalf of ten friends (or thereabouts) and the wedding is in all of four days. i received the manuscript for the new book i am supposed to be working on for the next three months and really have no inclination to even glance at the first chapter (which is due, again incidentally, on the day i return from The Wedding).
i don’t suppose anyone understood any of that, or even cared to read through it (but it is all so meaningless, i would likely respect you more if you had not read it)… but then i write for no one to begin with. i am still not sure why i blog so much when my words do not mean anything to anyone. perhaps having a nom de plume makes me feel mysterious and important, and possibly famous. or perhaps it looks a little more sane than sitting around talking to myself the whole day. or perhaps i could pretend that someday, it would become a celebrated book – a record of life in the twenty-first century, a study of creative expression on the web, a testimonial to the infinite greatness of unlimited cable connection.
oh, i think i’ve lost my point. do you not think it is admirable that i actually spell out all my numbers?
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Tags: blogging, diarrhea, eggs florentine, morton's, rain, sunglasses, work
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