In an ideal world, that title would have emphasis in the right place. Sadly, I will have to keep eying those words up there warily while willing italics into existence.
So, do I write or do I Write? This was the terrible question tearing away at my mind last Saturday eve. Do I just write in the sense that people write grocery lists and ransom notes, or do I actually “write” write, in the way that people who do it for a living do?
This bout of more thought than I like being put into something inconsequential was brought on by a TNL Radio… dude, asking me if I can’t write, whether I failed my English, and if I suck at writing when I was less than enthusiastic about filling out a form that was being distributed at the lobby at Majestic City on Saturday night. I’m sure that experiment in “Aggressive Marketing” has a bright future in public relations.
In other news, Christmas is coming again. I’m starting to dread it because I will be broke by then and won’t be able to bribe Santa into throwing a few presents this way. I don’t even feel like jotting down my usual Christmastime post or even the whiny post about how it doesn’t feel like Christmas. Troubling times, these are. My parents think I’m crazy because I sit in front of the computer laughing at it. Then I switch it on and come here to write down a post and link to it on twitter. It’s so cold out that I grew a beard to combat it, but shaved it off when I started feeling chain-mail on my chin whenever I rested it on my pillow. To top it off I’m not getting tagged in any Christmas pics on Facebook. If it weren’t for the Penguins of Madagascar life would be quite dull these days.
Recently watched “Who Turned the Lights Off?”, another FT from BeyondBorders in association with the Roteract Club of… Some place. It was pretty great. They might perform it again so keep your eyes open of you missed it. Even better than the play was a certain Mr. Kotalawela dancing to…
wait for itt…
when we went out after the play. I apologize for not taking pictures.