If you thought your day was bad, you haven't seen mine. I mistook a flooded drain for a flooding footpath and gave myself a nasty abrasion. True, it wasn't the worst I've suffered, but still, that's gonna leave a scar. For about 6 months or so...

Still, it hurts. Like those kind of dull kind of pain that stays there and you get used to it after a while...

Then someone hits it or you get liquids on it, and you start cursing like a drunk pirate being castrated with a shoelace.

I'll give you a moment to absorb that image.

Alright?

Good.

Now, let's move on to something else. I've never worked out why people have such long playlists, or they don't even use playlists. Use playlists to sort out your songs, when you don't want to listen to certain artistes over and over again.

Well, it turns out that long playlists are incredibly useful if I'm planning to go on long flights and I have my laptop and iPod with me. I can run my iPod till it's nearly dead, then hook it up to my laptop to charge it.

Back to referring to old blogposts, I've decided against writing a fake blog. I'd need inspiration, and I can't won't break character. So, I can't mention events that happens in my school, or anything too personal.

Back to writing. That was on Friday. The wound's healing quite nicely, though games such as dodgeball, rugby and contact sports are out.

Screw it.

If there's a game of dodgeball, I'm in.

Anyway, I've been playing Pandemic 2 while trying to continue writing. Screw the homage to Harlan Ellison. I'm doing another one of those stories that lie in the middle of the sliding scale of idealism versus cynicism at best, and firmly on the cynicism end at worst. If I don't get in with this portfolio, I'm gonna rewrite what I have to and make them part of the same universe. Things that follow chronologically later will have references to those that are earlier. I'd most probably throw things into an anachronic order just for kicks. Besides, if my stories become something students study for their exams, I get to screw with their minds. There's very little separating a brilliant piece of work, from a piece of shit.

Mabel, back to writing.