I am terrible at keeping this blog (it's funny that blogger spell check doesn't accept blog as a legitimate word...or blogger), but I think now that I am living away from home I might use it more to keep in touch with people. Maybe a diary kind of thing and less emphasis on what I'm wearing, as often I have very boring things on, and I find it so hard to take nice photos with my poor poor camera skills.
Every time I ask Tim to take pictures of me he always stands behind the camera with a dumb look on his face, trying to get me to smile. But the smiles always look so fake and I definitely think that photos are so much better when the smile is a spur of the moment thing. Perhaps I should try and work on my smiling abilities! Am I really such a grinch? I got mad at him for it before so probably. He was just trying to help.
He is playing video games right now "pew pew BANG BANG". These are the soothing sounds off my work place on a day to day basis. Still, I shouldn't complain that the only sounds of gunfire I hear in my life are from a simulation.
I also might showcase some of my writing on here because I am TERRIBLY unmotivated. I keep buying big books to write in and never filling them with anything. I started a short story about an ************* (censored so as not to spoiler it) so I might type that in here. To be fair I do write for Canta as well as cook dinner every day and study full time so I don't have much time left for writing. I've been really lazy with English at the moment because we are studying "A Clockwork Orange" and I have read it before, though that was at least three years ago. It's not my favourite book, I have to say, the nadsat is really hard to get used to (possibly the point).
So here is the beginning of my story:
The women was there again. Frank could see her in the rear view mirror; the blunt black hair and the angry face. She couldn't have been there for long or he would have noticed her. She must have boarded while he was busy clipping tickets, there had been a hoard of people moments ago. Frank always felt ill at ease when she was on his bus.
He shoved the bus into gear and took off without checking if all were seated. What was it about her that he found so unseemly? Was it her eyes? Certainly they were always on petrol. He was never able to consider her for more than a fleeting instance before she locked onto him like a predator to its prey. They filled him with a chill, a kind of uncanny fear, as if the mere exchange of a glance between them could mark him for life.
Henry could not understand this. What harm could he possibly do to her? He was merely a simple bus driver.
He cranked the bus into fifth and speed along the pot marked road.
But no, her eyes weren't the weirdest thing about her. What disconcerted Frank the most was the sheer amount of jobs she seemed to work her way through. Frank was a loyal man and had been with his bus company for almost 20 years. He saw it as a outward threat to his way of life that this women could shirk her civil responsibilities so flippantly.
Whoops, almost missed the turn off, he cranked the wheel hard to the right.
Yet, every time he saw her, she was clearly in a new profession, a new uniform for every day. Builder, Secretary, Fire-women; one day she turned up in a clean suit, a briefcase and slicked back hair as if she had somehow got into business or law without any training. The nerve he thought, slamming on the breaks.
Today she was wearing overalls and carrying a wrench. Always the stereotype, he thought. It was as if she was playing a game.
And that's as far as I have got. What do you think?
ps. I bought a tapestry jacket today for $5. It's great but HUGE. It fits in the shoulders though and it looks home made, so I don't think it will be too hard to take in (no lining!). Might show you a picture tomorrow.