There is no running away from it. Once you start writing, you just cannot stop. It's either the pressing need to express yourself, even in the most mundane matters, or the likes of Tymek checking up on your progress and letting you know that He's Watching. Well, fair play to you, boy.

I'm suspiciously happy for the last couple of days. I wasn't happy when going through the Hangover of Doom on Monday, but apart from that little interval I'm Little Miss Sunshine. And why shouldn't I be? Unusually for this geographic location the sun is shining, I'm lying down on the greenest grass, sipping strawberry soda and being soother by Sir Samuel's angelic voice. Ok, so the grass might be a bit wet and my lunch break might be coming to an end, but who cares? Honestly. I find myself very easy going about everything. All's working out perfectly and even if something isn't the rest is making up for it. And in the end, I find out that everything's turning out the way it is supposed to be anyway. I got every August weekend planned out thoroughly. People visiting, concerts to go to and a few other ideas still in my head (that's where they should probably remain, mind you).

Hah, and this isn't that bad an attempt at automatic writing, either. Whatever you do, just don't stop to think. Vaguely familiar.

Cause on our deathbeds we won't regret the things we did, but the ones we didn't do.

Salut!