In the midst of having nothing to do
She asked me if i was good at writing. Having the complete absence of self-confidence over the major years of my life, obviously i said "No". Blunt, as usual. Have always been and always will be. I don't have any previous writings to parade or any other recent articles i've written because honestly, i've done none. My writings have always been locked in a journal, scribbles and doodles of crush's names on rubbish-dumped lined paper or up here, on my blog (which i've said before that i am absolutely unwilling to share).
We all know me. I come here, in times of desperation, in times of despair, in times of need. I come here in times of depression and death. Nobody should be given the chance to read about me in my most vulnerable states, not because i would then seem gullible and fragile, but because it would draw an impression that every time i start to write, i become an emotional person. I'm scared the emotional relationship i have with writing would frighten people away. If only there were columns on emotions all the time, i think that'd be just about the only thing i could probably excel at.
I don't want to promote a cause or an event. I don't want to interview someone and find out what they do for a living. I want to know how they feel. I enjoy digging up the deepest, darkest secrets of the heart (as long as they have no relevance whatsoever to anything gory). I would think it's best no one sees my reaction and awful expression of my face when i hear someone turn to me and say "... I killed my wife". Well, thanks but no thanks. I'd rather suffer emotionlessly.
I'm in the office again, typing on Comp38 as we speak. I am again, jobless and dutiless for the day. I've proudly done my calls and i've written my emails. I've also tweeted the necessary and now all the waiting is taking place. This is where i find productive things to fill my waiting time with. Read other people's work, social network, improve on my own writing abilities, communicate (maybe) with the colleagues who don't look like they'd strangle me if i start a conversation and yes, that's just about all an office can accommodate. My last resort, iPod. Yup, music. Escape reality for awhile. Escape the office, the people. Escape me.
And hopefully, escape you too.
xx
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