I haven't written properly in about a week and a half, don't know why, when I look at my screen I roll my eyes and just think: NO.
Instead, I research, and read and look and study. Everything. I think I'm trying to get a broader picture of what to write about. Because believe me I'm fed up of reading the same thing. Like, short stories seem to be about some form of domestic, child abuse, sexual abuse... Films are either crass comedy, or battle themed action flicks (which I do love) but come on, we all know how it's going to end don't we? Good guys win, with a few loved supporting characters dying to make the story seem realistic enough.
Enough. There must be some originality, somewhere. I believe my blog is finally witnessing some of my ever persistent procrastination.
Thanks to some money, I was finally able to go back home for 5 hours yesterday. London is changing; I am missing it. Darting through the advancing Underground was peaceful enough for me, but the bustling atmosphere of Oxford Street sent me on edge and I quickly retreated back to urban outskirts. Walking through markets and overcrowded centres became tedious and I headed back to the land of inbetween.
I made cookies on Thursday. My mother bought me a little kiddie pack with a hedgehog shaped cutter (I love hedgehogs, honestly I squeal when I see one) for Christmas last year and I finally decided to make them before the cookie mix expired. There was something very therapeutic about making those cookies, and I wish I had the inspiration (and money) to cook and taste more exotic food than my current staple diet of poverty, I mean egg on toast and so forth.
I think they looked as cute as a button.
Instead, I research, and read and look and study. Everything. I think I'm trying to get a broader picture of what to write about. Because believe me I'm fed up of reading the same thing. Like, short stories seem to be about some form of domestic, child abuse, sexual abuse... Films are either crass comedy, or battle themed action flicks (which I do love) but come on, we all know how it's going to end don't we? Good guys win, with a few loved supporting characters dying to make the story seem realistic enough.
Enough. There must be some originality, somewhere. I believe my blog is finally witnessing some of my ever persistent procrastination.
Thanks to some money, I was finally able to go back home for 5 hours yesterday. London is changing; I am missing it. Darting through the advancing Underground was peaceful enough for me, but the bustling atmosphere of Oxford Street sent me on edge and I quickly retreated back to urban outskirts. Walking through markets and overcrowded centres became tedious and I headed back to the land of inbetween.
I made cookies on Thursday. My mother bought me a little kiddie pack with a hedgehog shaped cutter (I love hedgehogs, honestly I squeal when I see one) for Christmas last year and I finally decided to make them before the cookie mix expired. There was something very therapeutic about making those cookies, and I wish I had the inspiration (and money) to cook and taste more exotic food than my current staple diet of poverty, I mean egg on toast and so forth.
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