nanowrimo

All efforts are currently being poured into NaNoWriMo, see you soon with more miserable laments.

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a bright sunny day in Spain (ten years ago)

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  He lay alone in the darkened room. The blinds were closed to the maximum in order to block out any potential light breaking through from the dazzling Spanish sun. It was the day after his birthday. He had spent the previous day with his girlfriend. But that now seemed an eternity away. Lifetimes had passed since then. It was a Tuesday morning and he simply did not know if it would be possible to get out of bed and go to work. Life seemed empty. Everything was lost to him except the deep throbbing pain reminding him that he was alive. To be alive like this… in this space of black desolation and despair… was it even to be alive? He had found something, something worthwhile and meaningful… something that brought light and hope, but it was now lost. It was inevitable. It seemed as if it was surely, at the very least, the end of his Spanish adventure.
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dedicated to bad writing

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Writing is a window to the mind. A true view of the full person behind the words. Face to face, when speaking, an individual can come across as calm and collected, they smile and use charm… they pretend to be what they want, and they wear a mask to disguise what lies inside. When they write, it pours out… their inner darkness and angry and emotional despair. For some, it also reveals their grammatical chaos… often caused by simple and pure blind fury. Writing is a powerful tool to use… it is also a powerful tool to be used against you if you are only a good person behind your mask.                   Communication in all walks of life is vitally important. In the professional realm, it is required to be seen as credible… it’s about timing as well as delivery and audience. As a leader, it is absolutely crucial. A leader firing off spouts of furious phrases that are poorly worded and contain grammatical er...
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greatness

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  The sun drains towards 0% as we sit on the dock over the lake and wait for an orange haze to fill the sky. Each day dies into a blossoming night, but here the temperature doesn’t drop very much. There are days I am desperate to leave, and others that I am in love. This, I suppose, is the human condition… we are prone to ups and downs. Often violent. Violent joy. Violent despair. What a turbulent existence for a turbulent species racing at high-speed towards its own extinction. The flies hover beside us cautiously, for they sense the spider webs for which I am grateful. I see a tiny spider dancing excitedly upon its carefully crafted web as it waits for food to land. They serve as a metaphor for a role reversal in human society. The spider might be the big bad boss awaiting the talented, educated, ambitious individual to land and be trapped in the web. A gondola sails by with the pilot singing a sunset song. A couple on the boat sip wine as they are serenaded… and a couple to my r...
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