Page After Page

Today I said some words I never thought I'd say in summer. I want some work to do. A nice English assignment or a creative writing task. Something structured to sink my teeth into. Does that make me a geek? I guess I'm bored of the endless summer already, and I still have another two months to play with. But I've been being a good student, probably a better student than I've been all year. In Creative Writing we get told that when writing, 500 words a day is a good benchmark. And through the whole year I never got anywhere really with my writing. I mean, I probably started about five potential novels that never got past 5,000 words. Lots of short stories, but not so many that I actually finished. I ought to read them all over really and see whether now I've got lots of time on my hands there are any I'd like to pick up again. But I've been writing a new story, I think I've mentioned it here before actually, and I've been sticking to my 500 words a day, with more if I feel like it. It's a good amount. And this story actually seems to be going somewhere, which is more than I can say for the other things I've produced in the last year or so. So I'm going to persevere with this one, even if or when it gets tiresome. So at the very least I can say I've done something with my summer.

The Scrooge In Me

It's strange, when I'm at uni I miss home, I miss all the people here, my family, my friends, the place. But when I'm actually here, I miss uni. I miss the flat, the freedom, the people at halls, the people on my course, my really good friends. It's wanting what you can't have, which has become a common thread in my life. Tomorrow is Christmas day, which is strange too, because it doesn't feel like it at all, it feels like just another day. I haven't wrapped up a single present, I'm not in the Christmassy mood, I'm being a bit of a Scrooge really. I went to Jrs last night and it was so good to be back with everyone. But it wasn't the same as clubbing with the uni lot. And now it's Christmas eve and I'm wholly unprepared and not really in the mood to be all happy clappy tomorrow. My Great Grandad is really ill, and that amongst other things is getting me down. I just want it to be another time, summer maybe or Spring. I don't really know when I want to escape to. Or where. I feel like a holiday, we were talking a couple of days ago about going back to Dublin which I would absolutely love to do, but I also fancy Lisbon. Just a few days, on my own, soaking up the sun and the culture, and writing to my heart's content. Even though I haven't been story writing or doing any writing that's particularly productive lately, at least I've been writing every day. But from writing to wrapping, I must get on.