Friday, August 26, 2005
SLUMBER PARTY & WORDS PER DAY
I am finally half way there, 6 months to go, 189 days left. It’s finally the weekend here and I have 5 hours until work ends. Tonight, my younger brother and I will be going on a slumber party. Yes, that’s right a slumber party. And it’s the kind of party where computer graduates here attend to. Well, at least the next generation of kids.
It’ll involve 8 computers; I think 6 desktops and 2 laptops. The slumber party is actually an overnight of Multiplayer games. I try and avoid playing these games for the past three years, I spent a lot of money and time playing it and I hated the fact that it didn’t provide me any good, I mean I didn’t learn anything that can be of use. Sure, it’s fun and if you win you can brag about it, but it has no value intellectually, and this is merely my opinion. I will play those games this weekend and I am glad I’m not hooked in it anymore. My childhood is full of afternoons spent with video games, and I hope when I become a father I can teach my kids to learn and love reading, as well as value the things that are enjoyable to do at the same time worth something to taking pride in.
These past couple of days, I’m glad that I know I helped a couple of people, erasing a doubt about she has, accompanying some at times of boredom and being there for someone who finds herself crying in front of the monitor of her pc, even if I wasn’t there for her physically, at least I was there with her to provide her comforting words. I just wish I could say those words instead of her reading it. I am a bit depressed the good thing is I didn’t let it get to me, how can you provide a support and show of strength to someone if you can’t hold it together?
This feeling of depression will pass and I might feel better tomorrow, after I have taken the time to relax and do some more soul searching.
I’m happy though, that I’ve been writing constantly this past month, though a bit sad because last night I was writing something down and I already wrote about two pages when the software application hanged on me. I lost what I wrote, I forgot to save it, and I saved a couple of paragraphs but I erased it all since the key points to what I wanted to tackle on where gone.
Anyhow, one must look on and see that experience as a lesson; I won’t use that pc when I write my entries (snickers).
I wonder how many words I write per day. Usually I write up to two pages in my journal and that isn’t counting the paragraphs that I delete afterwards. So I suppose it takes four to five pages, at “single-space”, per day. I think I was 40,000 words, that’s what I read from Nicholas Sparks’ website, how professional novelists usually writes per day. It takes about 5-8 hours a day. And I hear Mr. Morla’s words in my mind at least 50 words when you write an essay, Mr. Morla is my English professor back in elementary and first year high school here in Riyadh, I heard he’s now assistant principal at my old school. I wonder what he’ll think of my writing now when, back then, I believe I was one of the worst in his English class at B section. The two professors I’ll
probably never forget is Mr. Morla and Mrs. Licud, their teaching has been etched in my mind to this day, and I’ll always be thankful for their strictness. A friend of mine emphasized on my writing last night, and I thought I was the only one who realizes it. She gave a comment about something I wrote and well, she said the words that captured my feelings when I wrote it a year ago. Even if the words written there were well hidden with humor and I was flattered because I saw she felt the depth of it all.
I remember this story I read in one of my English books, I used to read my English books during the summer, because I didn’t have anything to read at home then and well, I didn’t want my parents to spend money, I always thought that we needed to save money for our future, little did I know that it was all for not, but that’s a different story to tell for another time.
Back to the story; it was about a king and a Christmas pudding. He had a lot of chefs who prepared different sorts of Christmas pudding for the feast wherein the king’s grandmother would come and visit. A boy, I think he was a chef’s assistant asked the ingredients of the Christmas pudding to the Grandmother and in the end all of the puddings prepared by the chefs were Christmas puddings. How did it become so? The boy whispered a prayer into the puddings as it was being prepared. My point of all this is, I learned that everything that you do, you have to be passionate about it, for it to become special. And I remember this story from time to time as I do something that I am passionate about.
posted by vinz @ 6:25 AM
|
0 Comments:
