Doozy measures
There would be a nobility then, there would be a birthday.
And the knife not carve, but enter
Pure and clean as the cry of a baby,
And the universe slide from my side.
~ A Birthday Present, Sylvia Plath
I was dizzily happy yesterday, to think that there's two weeks of nothing to do. But yeah, as expected, the fun wore off a bit today.
I can't write. I can't write. I can't writtteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Nah, it's not writer's block. Nothing to do with that. I just lost confidence that I can write.
Maybe it is writer's block, but whatever lah.
Used to spend afternoons on weekends typing like mad; I would be locked up with the computer alone for hours just typing whatever came to mind. Not so easy now eh. I care too much about syntax and grammar and the interest factor and yadda yadda yadda.
Hey, novelties wear off fast. I know.
Not to mention that my writing were mostly pretty lengthy; the average length was about 15 to 18 pages. With no frigging plot in mind beforehand, so you can imagine the chaos. I used to think it was inspiration, or one of those chaos theory thingies where you put in random stuff and see how they work - but nah, not now. It's always the what works and heck this is stupid and many times - Would I even want to read THAT?
Clearly, reading too many books can damage your mind. And raise your standards higher, but that's not a bad thing at all.
The worst part of this is, is my writing bad, or just unspeakably sad, or - or - or - boring?
I've got lots to write on this actually, but to write it would mean saying things I would regret later. I won't. Nothing juicy here. Move on move on. I haven't got a sordid life; haven't got an interesting incident to relate; haven't even got involved in some forbidden, scandalous relationship.
Probably a Salieri complex...but haiyo. I give mediocrity a good name, ah ha.
Yeah yeah, if I were to read a post like this on someone else's blog, I might even flame it for being so freaking pretentiously emo. Why is my life so duuuuuull? OMG, I can't believe I'm dying here! Nobody wants to talk to me! They've abandoned meeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!
Takes one to know one.
Probably PMS, if anything.
And the knife not carve, but enter
Pure and clean as the cry of a baby,
And the universe slide from my side.
~ A Birthday Present, Sylvia Plath
I was dizzily happy yesterday, to think that there's two weeks of nothing to do. But yeah, as expected, the fun wore off a bit today.
I can't write. I can't write. I can't writtteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Nah, it's not writer's block. Nothing to do with that. I just lost confidence that I can write.
Maybe it is writer's block, but whatever lah.
Used to spend afternoons on weekends typing like mad; I would be locked up with the computer alone for hours just typing whatever came to mind. Not so easy now eh. I care too much about syntax and grammar and the interest factor and yadda yadda yadda.
Hey, novelties wear off fast. I know.
Not to mention that my writing were mostly pretty lengthy; the average length was about 15 to 18 pages. With no frigging plot in mind beforehand, so you can imagine the chaos. I used to think it was inspiration, or one of those chaos theory thingies where you put in random stuff and see how they work - but nah, not now. It's always the what works and heck this is stupid and many times - Would I even want to read THAT?
Clearly, reading too many books can damage your mind. And raise your standards higher, but that's not a bad thing at all.
The worst part of this is, is my writing bad, or just unspeakably sad, or - or - or - boring?
I've got lots to write on this actually, but to write it would mean saying things I would regret later. I won't. Nothing juicy here. Move on move on. I haven't got a sordid life; haven't got an interesting incident to relate; haven't even got involved in some forbidden, scandalous relationship.
Probably a Salieri complex...but haiyo. I give mediocrity a good name, ah ha.
Yeah yeah, if I were to read a post like this on someone else's blog, I might even flame it for being so freaking pretentiously emo. Why is my life so duuuuuull? OMG, I can't believe I'm dying here! Nobody wants to talk to me! They've abandoned meeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!
Takes one to know one.
Probably PMS, if anything.
posted by Lynn at
8:33 pm
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