Thursday Night Pandemonium

I am absolutely in love with the world right now: I haven’t put a single letter down for Advanced Writing since last Friday. Want to guess what day this is?

Yup. Thursday. That means I have to turn in fourteen pages of writing tomorrow. I had done four pages for some Advanced Writing Project that I can put in, which leaves me with, yes, you know it too, ten pages to write tonight!

Having to do ten pages in a total of seven hours and eleven minutes (lights go off at eleven PM at the boys’ dorm) would be an abysmal task even if I knew what to write. I could write the same word for ten pages or copy down bits and pieces from the book I am currently reading (“Collected Plays of Neil Simon” —it probably makes me sound more sophisticated than I actually am.) or write down SAT words and their definitions. Except I’m not in the mood for such utterly dull activities. I actually really want to do something creative at the moment. I could…try to write a story; but I am out of ideas. I could start the play I’ve been wanting to write for a long time (and it sure will make me the next Neil Simon, baby. hell yeah.) except I don’t know what to write about. Not precisely. I kind of want to tell the tale of a samurai in search of the perfect #insert something here#. Option two is a very modern piece on the concept of “difference” –as in, different cultures, lifestyles, varying perspectives of the same world we are living on, that sort of stuff- and/or “indifference”-hello, high-school teenage society!- . I like the samurai idea because I instantly buy the honour-bound-noble-warrior-looking-for-perfection idea; and I would find it quite amazing to explore how far a man could go for honour and what exactly is “perfection” for each of us. No, I won’t tell you what my visualisation of perfect is at this point in time. *pushes something out of his mind*

Ahem. Anyways. The modern piece, especially one about the way young people are forcing themselves on a path to indifference and lack of originality would also be nice to work on, simply because, it’d tell what I see around myself all the time. I could potentially take a degree of pleasure if I staged the play (which will, by the way, absolutely happen if I ever write any play in my high-school career; very possibly on second semester this year if I can start writing soon.) —kind of like a slap to some members of the crowd I’m living within.

Oh my, I sound so harsh. On second thought, I’m not sure about the pleasure I mentioned above. Nah, I wouldn’t like that. My ego doesn’t work that way—I do not favour difference in thought and spirit and preference because I necessarily find “different” on a higher pedestal than “ordinary”: One would definitely notice a different voice amongst an otherwise univocal chorus. If that one different voice is a bad one, though, the fact that it’s not like the others doesn’t make you like it, does it?

Though I must say that if it’s a voice different from the others (or at least you hear it so) and if it’s a beautiful voice, too, then very bad stuff happens. To you.

Anyways, I’ve no idea why any of the stuff I wrote in the past three pages would interest you, friends, so I’m finishing this entry here. One thing is certain: I’m not starting to write a play whatsoever tonight.

P.S: Leonard Cohen. Magnificent poet, incomparable song-writer. Please do read his poems and listen to his songs if you haven’t done before, people, though it’s unlikely that you haven’t if you are a person I converse with on a regular basis. Start with reading “A Thousand Kisses Deep” and listening to “Dance Me to the End of Love” (Live in London version) please. His new album will be released on the 31st of January, so I’m overjoyed.

P.S 2: Someone from Russia follows my blog. I do not recall any active friendship with someone living in Russia; but seeing hits from Russia every time I succumb to the desire and check my blog visit counter gives me a huge smile. I don’t know who you are, but thank you, my друг!