'I think the word house implies more legroom'

[Quote: Breaking Dawn - Stephenie Meyer. It would be Twilight wouldn't it?]

What is with this house? Seriously. Yesterday a cupboard door fell on my foot and today I had to have a shower in the dark (though I'm not complaining, a lot goes unsaid for things like that). Also I had to pluck my eyebrows by candlelight because most of the lights have blown.

I mean, I knew I lived in a cave and that my family are cavemen ('Dad? Do you want a drink?' 'Nfff.'), but c'MON, this is insane.

I've been known to get my best ideas in the shower, and today was no exception. I figure I don't really want to be a doctor anymore. If this is the way my immune system reacts to pressure, a hospital is the best and worse place for me to be. And also sick people are fun to poke.

So what do I do now? I asked myself.

Well I'm perfectly happy to do something in the background, work in a music store or a bakery or something (a nice bakery, like Millie's Cookies or some place, not a crumby (haha! Crumby...) place like Woodheads where they practically spit into your pasty-to-go), but I like to be creative, and so I thought maybe something along the lines of writing as well. I have plenty of ideas for stories, and I sometimes spend whole days just typing away at things I've been dreaming about, but I don't have the time at the moment, which is always a flaw.

So writing in the future is a definite maybe (a 'definite maybe'... don't mull over that one too much, my brain hurts), which is good, that eases the pressure of living off somewhat.

This is definitely a good thing blogbugs, all of a sudden I have a little more bearing of what my life could be like.

But then again, I'm easily swayed, just look how much this groovy new thing called THE SEA distracted me...



Nicole.