So lately I’ve gotten into the unhealthy habit of going on a rampage and watching two entire seasons in a day, and I can’t even say I’m sorry for it because gods damn, Suits is going to flick me in the forehead every single time I think of trying to become a lawyer. Not necessarily a good thing, you understand, but it has its merits; it warns me, for one. Somehow I keep getting the idea that if I do try to become an attorney and they unleash me into the world, I’ll only end up becoming a sub-atomic shrimp in an ocean full of sharks and that creature large enough to swallow a nine-foot great white. I assume that will have to be one hell of an adventure, though, because c’mon, a whole ocean to watch? I’d be a fool to let it pass by right?
Wrong, as evidenced by my shallow tears and the fact that I empathise with fictional people more than actual living human beings with real experiences and who I can actually touch and converse with had I given it more than a split-second’s thought. In any case, I’m a Donna, and I might not be as dashing as she is (oh, her boobies are heavenly too, may I add, and those are the words of a girl who hardly thinks breasts are anything special at all) nor as quick-witted and humorous, but I can try, at the very least, to be that awesome.
Well, this is a sad attempt at trying to revive my writing as I haven’t written anything remotely readable for the past two years or so, but given that I have been handed the task to tell a couple of kids stories about writing stuff about life and its many mundane wonders, I guess I need to start retelling myself everything that I should have told myself all those years ago.
And start relearning how to make sense of these jumbles of letters.
And maaaaybe start coming up with a better blog.