Write on.

For some people, writing is something transient. For some, the passion sticks on. Someone, a good friend of mine once said very casually "Oh, people do that stuff, but it never catches on...people write intermittently for a few months and then they are too lazy to do it anymore" - when I informed that I finally started a serious weblog. I don't know why she said that, but it struck me. And the feeling persisted, and maybe I felt just a tiny bit disappointed.
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• The internet is back, and incidentally I have so much of slogging to do that I'll have to dig a deep hole, set up a bunker and insulate its walls with shifty blankets to muffle out any signs of life inside.

• The weather was amazing today and it transformed this hell-hole of a place into an ethereal land of contentment. And all I could think of while aimlessly strolling around the perimeters of the campus, was the ridiculously sticky soup I was sinking into every second that I wasted admiring the fluid winds and the buoyant clouds and caress of the rejuvinated grass against the palm of my hand.

• Now my working week has become 6-day long, and I will trully miss the Procas-turdays.

• Flat broke again.

• I have looked around my room like 3 times now, and I realise that I can't seem to gather anything else to write about. My brain has finally given way after all the merriment of the the last 6 hours. Just when I am supposed to start working, and their is no bending the deadlines.
  

Ah, well. I try.