Bored

Today was the first time in a while where I really felt bored. I just read, and read, and ignored everything, and read. I had little else to do. Yet I felt like my tactics were wrong. I did not feel like I learnt enough for the time invested. Feelings are not always to be trusted. Sometimes one must close their eyes and blindly trust the system. Who's system is this? I don't know. It is a distillilation of life advice.  What else can I do?

Untrodden paths

I have been labouring away at this assignments for eons. I lie. I try, get confused, give up, and do more exciting things. As you are aware, I have embarked upon a quest - one of many, mind you - to gain greater fluency with words. I read, a lot, but not enough. I still feel that many teenagers could construct passages with greater clarity and eloquence than myself. I am a warfarer in an unknown land, plodding along an untrodden path, with no guide or mentor. But that's OK. Surely that lends to greater originality? Surely the best writers were once wayfarers who dabbled, and dipped, and drowned in esoteric lands, discovering new populations, encountering magnanimous benevolent characters. Does exposure to silky sentences automatically translate to an ability to produce such sentences? I know not for sure. There is only one way to find out. Continue upon my path. But first, maybe Umar, just maybe, for the sake of your humanity and your sanity, finish this darn assignment!

Assignments

14.03 I do not want to do this assignment. It's tedious. I have no choice. Telling myself it makes it more so. No, Umar, it's absolutely wondrous. A chance to prance and frolic in a new subject, collecting precious pearls of knowledge along the way. Yay... ... ...why does this not excite me? I suppohe destination of knowledge is more appealing than the prospect of study.

Daily Fight

Every day is a fight in the ghetto. I eat. I train. I sleep. Sometimes I take a hit. Sometimes others take a hit. Today Hasan took a momentous hit. A drop kick square on the jaw. He returned to the wastelands of Amigos. He will eat chips. He will eat milkshake. He will indulge. And he will begin his training again. He will eat. He will sleep. He will train. You fall. You get back up. You do not lose hope. Such is the cycle of a man on a quest. An eternal, ethereal, elusive quest, but a quest worthy of every drop of blood, sweat, and tear. The dream remains alive, albeit a glowing ember. Surely one day, the ember will bloom into a raging fire; a fire that will burn in one's heart spurring one on in the daily fight in the ghetto.

Let Us Embark

Hello Dear Friends, Today, we embark upon a journey across a journey. This journey will, no doubt, expose my incompetence with words. But I seek to improve. It will help me track. Help me track how my mind works. It will help me to keep track of my range of vocabulary, and the ease at which I construct thoughts. I intend not to make this a polished piece of grand writing. That, frankly, is too much effort for this lazy being. I will just write. And write. No edits required. No backspace necessary. I will just let words flow from my mind onto the screen and see how it looks once I have pressed post. That's right - I won't edit. For this is a test. Of my thoughts. I may edit. Sometimes. But not now. I don't have a topic right now. Isn't that interesting that despite not having a topic, I've written all these lines? It just shows that I am, indeed, capable of spewing garbage, maaan. What are these words but rambling thoughts. I will stop. I will post. I will return at a later time (isA), and I will restart. C ya.

Inaugural Address

We observe today the beginning of an venture towards freedom and liberty, a pursuit of happiness and dignity. Wait! Pause. Wrong speech. Where were we... an introduction to this blog. [To be continued. Maybe. I gtg atm.]