Good thing I've always considered my own studies to be not only more interesting, but more useful than the ones that pass supervised. Otherwise I might not be comfortable with the idea of reading everything but the course material at a period when my high school completion hangs by a thread... No worries. There always is an exception to any rule. (Someday this'll bite me in the ass, I can tell, but I'm also confident that this is not the day.)
Yes, I changed my blog's language to English for the time being. Trying to get used to diaring with a keyboard, and self-reflective text has for long been easier to produce in English.
It feels rather uncaring and brutal to actually hammer thoughts down rather than let them flow and shape themselves on the way - I'm surprised at the difference in mood. Also, I feel the need to correct wayward words just because it's so darn easy and no-one will ever know... Turning into one of those nafty writers, bit by bit. Beware...
I've been leafing through my archives for the last few weeks - a friend asked me to contribute in a project I cannot yet reveal the nature of. Let's just say it has a world to do with Arsène Lupin, and my enthusiasm is justified. The truth is, it is the project I've quite naturally grown up with, something very fitting for my literary tastes. A variation on something I would have done eventually by myself - I've been planning it half-passively for three years, waiting for the opportune moment, the natural revelation of the form, the reason to start in earnest, the maturity, the possibility.
Sometimes these things do come on their own accord. Sometimes faster than imagined, in a different form, with a different label on... No matter. The form is a good one. Besides, it is to be two wills instead of one and, as soon as the mutual key is found and constantly used thereafter, this will turn into a strenght. Savoir-faire and straighforward communication, brilliant once it truly works.
And material there is aplenty... Funny, how anything might come in handy.
So I've gone trough several bookshelves, antediluvian notebooks and a two-year-old script and am currently having the time of my life. Starting with the details with a right feel, getting back into the world... I have a pleasant tingle about this. I'm very fond of this quiet, intuitive, groundlaying part of the project because it's something I'm adept at. But there are some challenges in store as well, and I'm looking forward to a busier time.
Meanwhile, I'm turning into a hypocondriac, suspecting I'm asthmatic and hardly feeling like smoking's such a great idea after all. But I like smoking! "The perfect pleasure, for it leaves you unsatisfied"! On the other hand, soreness and cough lasting all winter? T'is not good. We'll see. As it is, I hardly dare to resume my singing lessons.
There. I think that ought to defeat the Baffling Blankness of the New Diary. The next entry will be easier. I'll make a keyboardist yet.