Temporary? Insanity

I scrawled this one night after feeding Becca – 3am or thereabouts:

“I’m quite besotted with the idea of one day being so famous a writer that companies will shower me with free merchandise in the hopes of receiving an honourable mention in one of my works. In fact, the idea has taken such hold that I scrounged up a pad of paper and pen in order that I should not forget this fantastic bit of egomaniacal dreamery (and that, is a new word).

It has been made abundantly clear to me that I’ve forgotten how to write. Not only the craft of stringing words together in a vaguely pleasing way, but using pen and paper. This is the part where I write something remarkably clever about bicycles, or would do if it weren’t too ridiculously early in the morning for being clever.

Were I intelligent enough, I would form some sort of logical construct which would prove indisputably that my unwieldy use of the pen is all Gutenberg’s fault. Damn that moveable type! And damn whoever invented word processors as well.

My fingers hurt. I’m going to bed.”

I still cherish some form of literary ambition, but it’s a vague, directionless one at present. I’d like to write something worthwhile, that would have some sort of good effect on people. Maybe I’ll write a book about surviving housewifery – if I ever figure out how to do it, that is.

I’d also like to be a fantastic cook. I’d like people to salivate at the thought of my cooking to the extent of puddles forming at their feet. I’m in it for the glory, you see.

I want to play the piano a great deal better. I haven’t had a chance to improve, as I haven’t had a piano for the past five years. My dear sweet mother has given me my inheritance about forty years early though, so I can finally tinkle the ivories again. I’m incredibly aware that this means I don’t have an excuse anymore.

I want to learn. I haven’t thought of anything specific yet, I just generally want to keep my mind alive. It’s gone through a few dry spells, and I don’t want to do that again.

I’d like to be less selfish and self-centred (you may notice that most of my paragraphs start with “I”). I want to help people, in both tangible and intangible ways.

Mostly though, I want to stop blogging so I can crawl into my nice warm bed.