For some reason I thought about being fourteen today. I guess it's because it's November again, aka NaNoWriMo, and I can't help but remember how things have changed over the years. I remember only hearing of that crazy venture just two days before November started, and signed up just like that.
Just like that, began a tradition of this really crowded, fun and procrastination-filled month every year, until - of course - the Big Exam Year of Form Five. Then college - with the usual drive that I can't seem to find after college ended - came and I hit the 30k mark for the first time, without actually having anything going on in the story. (There was an annoying kid who kept harping on about missing his ride back to the future and three aimless teens with lots of free time after SPM...)
And then last year, when I attended a kick off party for the second time (first was in college, surprise surprise) and did not even hit 2k. Hmm.
Sometimes I miss that fourteen-year-old's impulsiveness. Spontaneity. The sense of invincibility.
Yet I feel like fourteen today in all the wrong ways. Not like I have a fantasy world worth building and a great story worth writing, but like the real world seems to be against me. A little.
You can tell that I'm tired, can't you?
That fourteen-year-old also started a blog, which was updated very frequently and with rather imperfect English at first. But boy, did she love it. And I'm glad she did. For blogging is about living in the now, and I need to remember this, above all.
0 comments:
Post a Comment