The young man woke up, and got ready for another day of dealing with the ghosts. Continue reading
Today’s post will be a bit short. Sorry. Today’s been an absolutely draining day, and I only just got home after having to go wait in line for an hour to pick up my hormones for the month. Continue reading
Today marks the start of NaNoWriMo. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s an organised challenge for people to write a novel in a month. The name’s shorthand for National Novel Writing Month. I’ve always found it an interesting concept, and even considered trying it this year. Ultimately, I decided I didn’t have enough time to write a thousand or more words a day. Or rather, I did have the time, but I’d rather use it to read, or spend time with friends. However, then I remembered this blog, and that I’m already writing a thousand or more words three days a week, which is very nearly half a week.
Maybe the real reason that I’m not doing NaNoWriMo is that I’m afraid of doing badly, and don’t feel ready. I mention it because all this led to me thinking about how I use my time. I spend three hours or more a week working on this blog. Without counting the ride to and from work, I usually spend between three and five hours a week riding my bicycle. I spend about three hours and a half every week in watching football. I’m currently spending a massive chunk of my day, between five and seven hours, reading. Continue reading
Love is weird.
I don’t mean in the typical pop song way. I mean more widely. What’s love, anyways? We use the word to describe what we feel towards family, or close friends, or partners, but I can tell you those are all very different feelings. Except… also not? Like I said, weird.
On one hand, the affection and protectiveness I feel for my little brother is not anything like the admiration I feel for my best friend, and how excited I feel learning more about her, even after all this time being friends. However, thinking of both of them brings a similar smile to my face, and I’ve found I feel the same about their flaws. That is, I couldn’t care less about them. Sure, I can see in what ways they’re not perfect, but it just doesn’t annoy me in the slightest. At times, I’ve even found myself feeling closer to someone after learning about those things. It’s like, I can acknowledge that it’s not a great thing about them, but I still love them more for it somehow.
Beyond that, I’ve found love, particularly romantic love, to be such an iffy term. I hear people talking about what REAL love is and what it isn’t, but… who gets to choose what the word ‘love’ means, really? It’s somewhat like describing the colour blue to another person. It’s an old philosophical idea to illustrate how impossible it is to know for sure what it’s like to be someone else. Continue reading