20 octobre 2005


See, I'm in a bit of puddle (I had to think about this, as I always always always want to say "poodle", and I don't think I can cope with the hate-mail).
Life is kind of pretty good to me these days. I don't want to jinx myself, but it kinda is. All financial trouble aside, which I brought onto myself anyway, all singleness aside, which I suspect those three assholes in their car last week would say I brought onto myself as well: one of them digged me after all, this might have been my chance!, all looking-for-a-job-in-another-country-not-working-out situation aside - oh yes, you might not be aware of that, but a hospital (I've
obviously been applying left, right and center) out in Middle of Nowhere, USA, is currently reviewing my criminal record; however, I've been strongly advised not to take the job should I be offered it: it is the US, granted, but Middle of Nowhere does not have any appeal whatsoever; all that aside, then, I'm generally feeling pretty good.
My problem is, I can't write* when I feel good. And quite rightly, too! Nothing to rant and rave about, nothing to scream obnoxiously in silence about (yeah, I'll let you ponder this one), no names to call anyone... No wonder, really.
Sure I could talk about the fact that I've been having several bad hair days in a row and that, honestly, it's getting quite tiresome, but that's hardly my nails and knuckles, is it? And I've done that already. Or I could post an untimely rant about buses and metros that's been sitting in my drafts for ever, but I don't even know why I'm keeping it, it's that bad.
So should I decide to be
happy-ish (first, I really don't want to jinx myself, and second, come on, if I actually said I was happy, I'd probably get struck by lightning, but, having decided once and for all that I'm not dying before I'm married**, I am not taking any chances...), which would lead to my abandoning this here site and the umpteen stories that I've started and not finished? Or should I go for the doomed wannabe writer attitude, shuffling forlornly while lamenting the unfairness of it all?
I'm not asking for suggestions for (un)happiness, by the way. Just vocalizing my puddle. And yes, I'll let you ponder this one too.

* Yes, OK, I am physically able to write, but I'm putting even myself to sleep.
**Re-reading this, I realise I might have stumbled upon the secret of eternal life...

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