The universe has a strap-on and is pointing at me [I sense malign intent]
January 3rd and the universe is trying to screw with my resolve to look positive at things. Sneaky bitch… Simple things like studying for the exam in microeconomics turned out to be quite the deal with me today. I think a Rowling character broke loose from my library and soaked my notes with sleeping potion, because I could feel the lids of my eyes sliding down my eye balls and whispering “Check your mail to stay awake… Do it… Do it…”. I managed to get through the half though, so I am satisfied with it.
Exam related issues include missing Holy Scriptures. I managed to miss out on the lecture on Monopolies, the material I can’t get at all from the text book and will drive myself mad from. It should have been the simplest thing to borrow them from a friend and copy them, but nah it so happened that the mentioned center had to restock on that very day and the next was naturally 20 minutes part one way. It was cold enough to get my legs numb and then there was the clerk that was stuck in slow motion mode. For a moment I mistook myself for a rogue in an RPG game. Those pencils could have done super damage to the clerk. *hehehe*
Then comes my faithful Computra. Poor thing might have caught a sex disease from the internet. For some time I have been struggling with maintaining her secure and yet again I fail. The problem with loading sites is rather serious. It either loads a blank page or redirects me to Google. And it does so when I decide to do a blog-hop-a-hop, but this is nothing. The pretty red cherry on top goes to Computra restarting herself when I click on an icon. Thank fully it doesn’t happen very often, but soon my face might become a mask of permanent twitches.
The biggest concern right now is the ability to AVOID editing. It is physically impossible for me to edit. I just sit there in a trance and first wonder what to do and then wonder how to portray what I see on the screen or on paper. I am reading “Seaborn” by Chris Howard and I am ready to cry, because the guy, pretty much has my essence down in his own style. Something I had and then lost. How can you lose your writing voice is beyond me, but I am stuck with an incredibly small vocabulary in English and no power at all to bend it to my biding the way I want to do it… So I guess this is the amazing trap hole to try and fight through. I am a non native speaker. English is foreign to me no matter how many words I learn and it has its own specifics, known only to the natives and this exceptionally hard for me to push though. So I guess I found my arch nemesis in writing, but will I be able to conquer it. Here is a tiny snippet and if you have encouraging AND constructive things to say I would be most grateful.
“It was my pleasure, Clockwork Meister. I hope you are as good as the whisperers claim you to be. Reap blood and harvest agony.” He caught her smile. It was a budding expression that fleeted her face.
It has been so long, since he had to decipher the facial muscles and hers were a topographic map of energy, intricate and detailed. Was that malice or curious voyeurism captured between lips? He wished he had a mouth for that smile was contagious. What a fascinating way to start a night. Her walking shape preoccupied his senses for quite some time. He didn’t posses authentic eyesight, but her violet ink mist compressed to the body of a woman lingered in the darkness up ahead.
PS: The pic is called Public Relations by Francois Benveniste