I have lots of bad habits (one day I'm gonna make a list of them), and here is the one that bothers me the most: I never learn my lesson. I mean, I do something, it does not work and the next time I do exactly the same. I can not even count the times I said to myself "I'll close my eyes just for 5 minutes, and then I'll get up and keep on", just to wake up 8 hours later. Or the times I delayed doing something believing that I have plenty of time, only to rush and stress out 1 hour before the expiration of the deadline. Or all the ideas that occured to me, didn't write them down immediately, forgot them and then spent hours pressing my memory without results.
This last one happened to me once again last night. I was in bed and somehow, this idea of a post I should write occured to me. It came all ready, nice and coherent and in english. Obviously, I didn't get up in order to write it down, I ignored the voice warning me that the next day I will have forgotten it and I drifted off to sleep. Sure enough, today I woke up and do not have the faintest idea of what I thought last night. No matter how hard I try, all I remember is just that I had thought of something good and nothing else, not even what it was about.
Ok, nevermind my silly ramblings about an unimportant idea for an unimportant post for an unimportant blog... Isn't it strange, though? That ideas, like golden dust, fly all around, dance in the air, touch us for a moment and then disappear, unless they find us available to let them root, grow and bloom?
What if the most beautiful story will never be written because it is already lost?
This last one happened to me once again last night. I was in bed and somehow, this idea of a post I should write occured to me. It came all ready, nice and coherent and in english. Obviously, I didn't get up in order to write it down, I ignored the voice warning me that the next day I will have forgotten it and I drifted off to sleep. Sure enough, today I woke up and do not have the faintest idea of what I thought last night. No matter how hard I try, all I remember is just that I had thought of something good and nothing else, not even what it was about.
Ok, nevermind my silly ramblings about an unimportant idea for an unimportant post for an unimportant blog... Isn't it strange, though? That ideas, like golden dust, fly all around, dance in the air, touch us for a moment and then disappear, unless they find us available to let them root, grow and bloom?
What if the most beautiful story will never be written because it is already lost?
