Rambling Recalcitrant
I'm sorry for the question I posted about Sodom. Last night, I figured out the actual answer why. Nobody bother answering, okay? :)
Had a terrifyingly harassed day today. I just wonder if this is how life is for most people? It sure sucks. It can't just be happening to me, I'm sure. When I was younger, I had dreams of loving my work. Of actually enjoying it day in and day out. But the one job I know will keep me happy is an extremely hard one and pays so little. I cannot just write. A sad truth. So I have to keep the job that pays.
Tonight, I have been browsing through some of my old works. There were so many back then. In high school, I must've churned out a story a month. And those were goddamned novelettes. Of course they have the depth equal to nil, but it was the mental exercise that I miss. Nowadays, I feel guilty when I even dare imagine a story. Not with this overwhelming details I must look to at work...
But of course, not to imagine would be not to breathe for me. SO I feel like I'm living a criminal life everytime I try to create stories. This ain't a way to live.
Others would just tell me... so just write.
Ha. Why d'you think I have a hyperactive blog life?
This is all I can do for now. A bit of journal keeping on the net. And a couple of stories once in a while. Maybe for now, it's enough.
Had a terrifyingly harassed day today. I just wonder if this is how life is for most people? It sure sucks. It can't just be happening to me, I'm sure. When I was younger, I had dreams of loving my work. Of actually enjoying it day in and day out. But the one job I know will keep me happy is an extremely hard one and pays so little. I cannot just write. A sad truth. So I have to keep the job that pays.
Tonight, I have been browsing through some of my old works. There were so many back then. In high school, I must've churned out a story a month. And those were goddamned novelettes. Of course they have the depth equal to nil, but it was the mental exercise that I miss. Nowadays, I feel guilty when I even dare imagine a story. Not with this overwhelming details I must look to at work...
But of course, not to imagine would be not to breathe for me. SO I feel like I'm living a criminal life everytime I try to create stories. This ain't a way to live.
Others would just tell me... so just write.
Ha. Why d'you think I have a hyperactive blog life?
This is all I can do for now. A bit of journal keeping on the net. And a couple of stories once in a while. Maybe for now, it's enough.
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