Well it’s nearly one whole month into 2012 and it still feels like only yesterday (to use the much overused but increasingly meaningful in older-age cliché) that I was dissapointingly only vaguely intoxicated on New Year’s Eve.
I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, mine would end up being counter-productive, at least that’s the thought I comfort myself with completely hiding the fact it would actually be down to my inadequate willpower. Rather a subtle ambition I have is to at least at some point this year take my interest and passion in one of my fields of interest one step further, so to speak. Since flying planes is ludicrously expensive, and believing I have the resources to purchase either an Aston Martin DBS or a Maserati GranTurismo S would be slightly insane, my most realistic option at present is writing. I have decided I can have at least some arbitrary corporeal elements of all my interests merged into one, which is the “immaterial” medium of writing. Since those interests which require the use of, manipulation, or acquisition of material items normally requires money, and presenting my feelings for these interests in writing, which apart from the ink itself, any interpretation is purely mental, but which most importantly is always free, writing is indeed the way forward… and already I am rambling. See, must be talent there somewhere.
So, in short, I have decided I am going to write a short story about something or other whenever I feel like it. It will normally be about stuff I care about or something completely different about which I may or may not care but still feel the need to write about. It may even turn autobiographical… but don’t expect any revealing secrets!
Anyways, I am so f*cking knackered, my eyes actually feel like planets, and it’s only 11pm. What has my life become?! So to finalise you can expect this so far random-natured and slightly dreary example of writing to get at least a tiny bit more interesting in future.
I am sure you’re thrilled to learn this fact.