I haven’t been able to write in almost 1 month. If I try to write about work my mind gets blocked. I have taken my most interesting lessons this month, I dream about what I could have done better and when I should have done it and I just circle in a bad mood.
When I was a child I used to lie a lot to my parents; mostly because I did not want to disappoint them. Something, that I cannot recall, happened at one moment and I took an oath to never lie again in my life. Of course I broke it as a child; but as an adult lying has become something intolerable to me. I just found out that it is not something we’ve all experienced and not lying is not a default attitude for all mature adults. But then, maybe they are not mature, just adults. It is funny how we consider adults to be mature by default, but surprise surprise: they often are not.
A friend said today that we should all go to therapy. Maybe mental sanity should be the basic concern of family doctors and not medicine subscription for any finger pain.
This week I’ve been asked by 5 people if I am ok and it has been only 3 days of work until now. I should start wearing make-up. The planets seems to be misaligned and the moon is getting bigger and bigger until it will be ready to eat us. Might also be the fact that I am reading too much Murakami and he is not the most joyful writer, but one of the most intriguing ones.
I’ve written a children’s short story. Cristina helped me and has rewritten some parts. It sounds quite good. Maybe I will sell millions and I will be rich and will work only for pleasure. But then, only me and Cristina like it so far and we both contributed to it. Let me know if you want to review it and I will sign for you the first copies.
Winning the lottery might also help. I will soon start digging for treasures in my grandpa’s backyard. Or maybe I will invent something apparently insignificant and cheap that would sell to millions, like the zipper. My chances to get rich will go sky high. 😉
A life under the palm trees where my only worry would be not to get too much sun cause my skin cannot take it. But then I would be so rich that I would pay the doctors to find a cure for my skin allergy. Not sure what Express Chef put in our dinner but it surely is doing miracles. I’ll start writing also a letter to Santa, you can never know where the happy dreams might pop up from.
Sleep tight and may you have joyfull, workless dreams.