It's Not Like it's not Important, Though

Save it. Please just do so. I shoudln't even be writting right now since I have this Network Performance Report to write, BUT since one of the weekly reports is missing, how in the Fucking Hell, would you FUCKING expect me to FUCKING write the Fucking Shit? Make it up? Pretend it was never there? Shit, right. Like I do that.

So, you brownse the news papers and you think:

1. Either she was hunt down and killed
2. She has been arrested and is somewhere in Guantanamo
3. She realized what a bunch of political shit she's writing about and decided to quit.

Neither. I believe the things I write, so I won't stop writing them because people don't like them. Sorry, but the things happen in the world I live in and I have the right to express my opinion about them. Then, I have not died, I've just been transferred to a new office where I have loads of work to do, so I can't spend that much time here. So why didn't I say a word about Darfur, Kenya, Tchad or Cameroon? Because I had no time. Same with Timor. No time. Then again, I guess time is something that stands in such a limited quantity, we all shall see how to make the best of it. That or it can also depend of the things that are demanded from us. Job, Family, Business, significant other, responsabilities, law... and so on and on and on. Are we the owners of our own time? Why is it that we let others take a chunk of it? It is the price of company, of "means", of peace, I guess. Independence, freedom can only give us back so much of it. Solitude... it only guarantees us so much of it.

Oh well, some positions came with the added functions, plus tasks, and it ain't like I mind that at all, au contraire ! I love it, but it would be so nice if the rest of the crew would share my passion for doing the job, and would actually provide me with useful feedback.

I'm sick again. Down with the flu. Oh damned. I hate being sick. then, which is better: the mental sickness or the physical one? Am I rather emotionally disturbed, stressed out or struggling with flu? Stress doesn't make my nose run. Doesn't give me fever. doesn't make me sweat. And it gives me happy-pills. ^_^ Happy pills are good. Then again, the muscle relaxants are groovey as well. Once a doc gave me a relaxant and it worked within 20 minutes. It was like being at the beach. Dude, you gara get a hold of that stuff!!!! Makes you feel like Carlos Slim!

I have a few issues to talk about, things that worry me and then some other things I just can't get myself through, but I dunno whether I should write them down here or with Hókisasszony. It's a matter of relationships. I'll still mull on it a little bit before I put it down in words.

I received a --- shit, I haven't checked my news mail! Oh well. So, I received a letter from this chick Xenasoul, an old acquintance from my lj days. She wrote me a "comment" to my old lj, Locky The Bunny, telling me she missed and she was wondering whether I was still into the Krumggory. Oh dear, when was the last time I actually worried or busied myself with fanfics? Ages ago. Haven't wrote anything, truth, and the last thing I actually worked on was ... a fanfic, but it has been a while. Can I still write fics? I've been adjusting my mind to keep working on some of my novels, as now even though some ideas still come to me as Krumggory-plots, I can easly translate them to original stories. Only have to work on ripping myself out of the gay-sex world and into other topics. Mystery? Death? Pain and emotional issues are by far my favorite topic. Should go on writing the books I wish to read.

Kinda that's how I write: I write what I need, what I miss and what the world fails to give me literature-wise. That's why I wrote Krumggories and Snockharts: there were not nearly enough and definitivelly not written in the fashion I wanted to read.

After Xena's question, I went back to my writings and checked some of my old fics. Found myself tracing the words of Scholomance. Each time I read my unfinished fanfics, my unfinished stories, I think I should sit and write them. But can I finish them? I don't like finishing them, specially not when they have become long stories. What would I do when they are done and I can't go back to write them? It's one of the worst, most empty feelings in the world. The stories are good, or at least I like them, but I wonder if I still have it in me to write them. Can I seclude myself again into that childish, tiny world? Maybe I still can work the Krumggories, since I have found a few personal topics, some issues that are still inside me and which I can work out with them, but can I write something else? I've been trying, to just picture it, but no. Well, these things things hardly stick with me for long.