Daft White

OK, I must try to understand why blogging has suddenly become one of the hardest things to do at the moment. I used to effortlessly rant on about this or that. I'd simply open the New Post page, and from the whiteness of the box would spring a witty observation about something trivial yet fundamental.

Now the whiteness remains white.
Why, I ask myself?

My life is not less interesting. Quite the opposite, whereas I used to be unemployed, drained in beer-piss, theoretically penniless and selling my soul to any design firm with an extra computer at hand, I am now happily employed, on my way to a raise, out every night on the other side of the bar (drinking white wine, not beer-piss), invited to parties and music festivals. I've got a lounge, a cat, I go to the gym, I cook to eat -not to drown my frustration-, and I don't fret about going to places by train and not by bus.

Is this what they meant by life sucking the soul out of you? Has my semblance of balance stolen my creative spark??

Is my life suddenly uninteresting because I nag less????

I kind of miss the good ol' days of desperately trying to sniff glue to be one of those teenage delinquents I read about in novels, the drama made me a queen (in my head). Or later on, being jilted and having half of my heart ripped out of my chest... at least I became poetic.

So it's true that being happy kinda makes you boring.

But, then again, I'm not really that happy. Human and happy don't mix. I mean, I'm me, and me loves melancholy. I just drown myself in white wine these days, not in words.

I will one day return to the life of a student, and going cold-turkey on the ability to shop at will shall probably return to me the power of witty observation.

Until then, here's some pictures...