I've been writing on my creative writing's short story the entire weekend and today even more. On Saturday it seemed like an excellent idea, on Sunday it was nothing but bullocks, and now I'm somewhere in the middle (for now, anyway). I've tried so hard to make it the way I wanted it to be but as all children, they are never what you expect they would be.
- - -
I have now spent the past... three hours writing the story in a place I know for certain I will see Her. Err... I'm not stalking Her, am I? What the definition of criminal stalking in Finnish law? I have to remember to check that. Nonetheless, She looked so amazing and her voice... I could listen to her talking a whole day. I am just utterly and thoroughly enchanted by Her voice.
I think I might have made a mistake, though. Next spring I will have the chance to see (and hear) Her every week regularly but what if I have no concentration left? Well, should be interesting if nothing else.
- - -
The picture's name is Frozen silence, from misanthropia.net (the grammatically correct form is of course 'misathropy' but who cares?). This picture reminds me of Her eventhough my feelings are nothing but frozen. One can also consider this as a very subtle tribute to the foregone Sentenced. I have just spent the weekend listening to their album Frozen, which gave me the mood and subject of my short story.
