To love or not to love

We all want to be loved. Quite probably it’s one of the few things in life that we need. Every once in a while we’ll meet a person we fall for and we find that they are the one we hope to be loved by. With any luck the feelings are indeed returned.

But then what? Will the two of you embark on a relationship? That’s what most people hope for. But what if that is not an option? There’s a multitude of reasons why that might be so.

What the reason is doesn’t even matter. At least not right away. The simple fact of the matter is that you can’t be with the one you love.

So what do you do? What indeed…

You keep loving. We don’t have a choice in the matter. Love can neither be turned on nor off. We keep loving and hope for the best.


What we can choose is what we do. And what that might be, everybody has to decide for themselves. It is at this point that it matters why we can’t be with the one we love. Because the reason will influence what we might do. How we choose to deal with the situation.

Hoping for the best is, after all, not necessarily going to cut it. Hope will only carry us so far. In the end we also need to protect ourselves. Our silly little hearts are not very good at protecting themselves. Especially when they are in love.

So what do we do?

There’s no ultimate answer to that. Not even a right course of action to take. Or necessarily a wrong one. The only wrong thing to do is to deliberately set out to hurt someone else.

If you don’t know what to do, try to be patient, especially with yourself. It’s the only thing you can really influence. It’s easy to give up, to lose hope, to let your heart break with the impossibility of a situation. Letting go of your worries, anxieties and of your fears is not easy.

But it is possible to love without asking for anything in return. Because Katherine Hepburn was quite right, “Love has nothing to do with what you’re expecting to get – only with what you’re expecting to give – which is everything.”

Once you realize that it’s not so much about being loved or being with the one you love, letting go is not so difficult. You do have to keep on doing that, though. You have to keep letting go, because our hearts want what they want and you’ll feel that greed over and over again.

At the same time I would never suggest to give up on that love, your own or that of the one who returns your feelings. Even if you can’t be together, whatever the reason might be, that doesn’t mean you should walk away from your feelings.

Bertrand Russell said, “Of all forms of caution, caution in love is perhaps the most fatal to true happiness.”

Not now does not mean never. Though every once in a while it will feel like not ever.

It’s a difficult path to walk. But every moment of happiness tends to be worth it. And we do deserve to be happy. Not everyone is able to pursue their happiness, but that should never mean that we have to forsake it.

As it is, I believe our hearts will guide us. Sure, wanting something doesn’t mean we ought to have it. But wanting something, or someone, enough does make us take on the impossible.

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A symphony of getting lost

“Schroedinger said, at its base level, the universe isn’t matter… it’s just shapes… nothing firm… what it means is that the real world is just a simulation anyway… that even if we’re not real, we may represent a dynamic… a tiny finger tracing a line in the infinite. A shape. And then we’re gone… Listen, all I’m saying is that, if we’re just information, just noise in the system… we might as well be a symphony.” – Root to Shaw in Person of Interest

We have this picture of ourselves in our heads of who we should be. We have an idea of who we are. Some of us even see a path ahead of where they want to be, who they wish to become.

But the question is: how clearly do we see ourselves? Do we have an open mind about who it is we are? And do we actually let ourselves just be?

Most of the time we tell ourselves stories of who we are, who we should be and why we can’t be something else or something more, because we don’t deserve such luck. We judge our failings so much harsher than we celebrate our accomplishments.

We don’t allow ourselves true happiness. Because what have we done to deserve such things?

Even the most open-minded among us recognize that we’re just doing the best we can, trying to be good, trying to do good, that we won’t always succeed and that it is okay to tumble and fall. But we still don’t embrace happiness when it hits us in the face. There’s always a second-guessing, a doubt, a pause to consider whether we deserve this or not.

Until the moment you feel yourself falling for someone. And I mean the moment when it actually happens. When you’re just there, inside of it, allowing yourself to feel all of it.

All of a sudden you’re lost and you don’t mind. Happiness has a way of turning your head around. There’s a part of you that can’t resist. Doesn’t want to resist. You’re willing to follow wherever it may lead. And then you look up and you have no idea where you are anymore. You’ve never been here before. You don’t recognize the landscape.

But you find yourself wanting to explore it. Where does this path lead? Where that? You’re in uncharted territory and none of the paths ahead would take you anywhere you’ve ever been before. You’re lost in a way you’ve never been before. And you don’t mind it at all.

I don’t get lost. A friend once said to me I have a built-in GPS. I always find my way, no matter where I end up, even when I’ve never been there before. I don’t get lost.

But this? This is different. This is the best way to get lost, if ever you do get lost. In some strange way you let go of a part of yourself, lose it and yourself to the experience of the unknown. That’s when those preconceived ideas of who we are or who we should be cease to matter.

We can’t truly lose ourselves. We’re stuck with ourselves. What we can lose is the second-guessing, the doubt, the need to see our shortcomings before our strengths. We can learn to simply accept ourselves and not have expectations of ourselves. We can bravely walk into the unknown and walk a path that we never would have allowed ourselves to walk before. To explore the road ahead with open hearts and believe in the possibility that we might actually deserve what we find along the way.

The most incredible part in all this is: when you choose the path that feels right, you won’t be walking it alone.

Get lost in happiness. Be a symphony with the one who shares the path you’re walking on. Or be a song all by yourself.


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Heart Pickings

It seems that when something is on your mind, perhaps more so on your heart, you keep seeing, reading, finding things that relate to what you are feeling or thinking about. It may very well be that we are more attuned to these things, because they weigh so much on us. You may even be inclined to think that the universe is sending you signs… if you believe in such things.

I tend not to believe in signs, tempting as it might be. I blame hyper awareness instead. An unconscious need for some sort of explanation, even validation. That what I’m feeling is not so outlandish. That my thoughts have at some point been shared by another, perhaps even investigated in a manner that might now enlighten me.

You may have come across Maria Popova’s blog Brain Pickings. She’s a smart woman. And I love her writing. The range of topics on Brain Pickings is extensive. There’s always a hint of philosophy no matter what she chooses to write about. Lately I’ve read quite a number of articles that related to love, relationships and what others have said about it. Writers, philosophers, artists of any kind. Every time I think I’ve got it now, I understand, something else comes my way, which does not negate the previously understood, but enhances and deepens it.

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately thinking about love and relationships. Needless to say this was triggered by an experience I’m currently going through. As an introvert I spend an awful lot of time on self-reflection when something like that happens to me. Past experiences are examined, how much I’ve grown, who I’ve become and ultimately, what it is that I am looking for.

So, naturally, when reading an article on that topic on Brain Pickings, I find it speaks to me, I hold onto some of the thoughts, realizing that someone else has so perfectly put into words the things I’m feeling. I can’t say this any better than they have already and it makes so much sense that there’s no point in trying. I just read this article and I think it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“In 1976, The Missing Piece Meets the Big O (public library) was published — a minimalist, maximally wonderful allegory at the heart of which is the emboldening message that true love doesn’t complete us, even though at first it might appear to do that, but lets us grow and helps us become more fully ourselves. It’s a story especially poignant for those of us who have ever suffered from Savior Syndrome or Victim Syndrome and sought a partner to either fix or be fixed by, the result of which is often disastrous, always disappointing, and never salvation or true love.”

I’ve suffered from Saviour Syndrome. I didn’t choose to be in a relationship where I could fix someone. I ended up in it without having a clue what I was getting myself into. I developed Saviour Syndrome. And yes, it was disastrous. It nearly destroyed my ability to love and for a long time made me wary of relationships altogether. In the end I had to save myself and let go… and ask to be let go.

When I read above article, I realized that I’m the Big O in this scenario. I’m not a missing piece looking to fit with someone. I’m complete already. But finding someone who rolls along with me… that’s a different story.

I can’t fix anyone. I wouldn’t presume to try. When you love someone, you want them whole. You don’t want them to suffer in any way. You don’t want them to doubt, especially themselves. If the person you love is not whole, or does not feel whole, you can’t do anything but be there for them and support them in their own efforts to grow.

Tell them “I’ve got you. I can’t fix you. But I’ve got your back. I’ll be by your side, because I love you.” And you hope that is enough. You’re in this together, for better or worse. And ideally, you both end up growing. Just because I’m already a complete whole, doesn’t mean there isn’t room to grow further or perhaps even in an unexpected direction. We never stop becoming, after all.

I believe in unconditional love. You take the other person just as they are. You want the same in return. Most of us aren’t complete wholes. Most of us have missing pieces or they are a missing piece, or think of themselves as such. Growing isn’t easy. And it does require a certain amount of self-awareness. It’s okay to not be complete. It’s okay to look for the missing pieces. But you may eventually have to realize that it is up to you to fill those missing pieces, or remove those sharp edges that bother you.

Happiness comes from within. It’s a process. It’s in enjoying the moment. It’s in accepting yourself for who you are, and allowing yourself to grow without having a plan what that should look like.

Of course, the greatest happiness is the one you share with the one you love. But experiencing that is impossible, if you’ve not already been happy on your own.

I’ll never arrive at the end of my understanding of love. Love is the ultimate unanswerable question. You will always find yourself wanting to know more and trying to dig deeper. This article simply reminded me of something. I’ve known for years that I’m not looking for someone to complete me. I’ve not felt incomplete for a long time. It also reminded me that loving someone means letting them go sometimes. So they may do their own growing and walk the path they think is right for them.

I don’t know how long ago I first came across this quote from the inimitable Khalil Gibran, but I’ve always known it to be true.


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Living dangerously

It is rather rare that you meet someone, hit it off right away and end up talking about life, the universe and everything. Surprisingly, none of the answers are 42. Unsurprisingly, the questions are legion.

There are two ways for me to learn more about myself: contemplation and conversation. I have a penchant for the former simply because I’m an introvert with a lot of alone time. And I find that I do know myself quite well, but I would not claim that I know myself fully or completely, because there’s a lot of potential to learn about oneself through another. That is where conversation comes in. (Let’s keep it simple, because there are other ways in which we can learn more about ourselves through another that doesn’t involve conversation.)

Through conversation we may voice thoughts previously unspoken. We find validation or discourse that allows us to further examine thoughts we’ve been having but couldn’t form completely, with any sort of conclusion.

And it’s oddly difficult to hold up a mirror to ourselves. The best we can usually do is not to lie to ourselves, but it helps infinitely more to have someone hold up a mirror and show you what they see. Because we can never see ourselves through the eyes of another. They have to show us what they see.

I learned an enormous amount of things last night during the course of what turned out to be a nearly non-stop conversation of almost five hours. And I did not just learn a great many things about my conversation partner, but about myself. I’ve not had a talk like that in far too long. Needless to say I walked away from the evening with a gazillion thoughts.

Most of these thoughts and the things I learned are mine to keep and perhaps to share with the one who caused them. But I’ve also arrived at a conclusion that I felt the strong urge to write about. Because it’s the urge to write that woke me up with vengeance this morning after barely five hours of sleep.

I write every single day, mostly for my clients, and there’s not an awful amount of creativity involved. That I have been bottling up. I’ve been holding it in and keeping it to myself. But over the last few weeks and, oddly enough, even more so since the beginning of the New Year I have found that I need to let it out. Need to let it go.

I cannot sit any longer on all these words and ideas I’ve been collecting. All the things I’ve started but have yet to finish. It’s time to start finishing things.

I’ve been running from safety for nearly 11 years. The safety of a comfortable life and a career. When I decided to ditch university and travel around the world instead, I was chasing my dreams. And I abandoned what most people want to keep. Granted, I’ve been lucky enough to know that I could always return, because I have a wonderful family and incredibly supportive parents. But even now that I returned to Germany I chose to live alone in a different city rather than hurrying home.

Yesterday I realized that I have been holding on to two things, however: my heart and my writing. And then I realized that I have absolutely nothing to lose. My heart’s been broken before and yet I’m not afraid that it’s in danger of being broken again. It might happen, but I’ll only find out if I’m not afraid of it to happen.

And if I never get my writing out there, then I’ll never know if it’s worth anything. It’s my biggest dream and the thing I’ve been most afraid of. But what is there to be afraid of? Rejection? No. I don’t think so. Not for me. Failure then? How could you fail if you don’t try?

I already write for a living. I just have to start getting my own stuff out there. The writing that I truly care about.

I have a few dreams I want to pursue, a bucket list of things I want to do. But I’ve also done so many things already, seen so many places, collected experiences, that I would have few regrets if my bucket list remained nothing more than a list of things I’ll never get around to. But this, writing, is something I have to do.

I came across this two days ago and it says it all.


I may have been running from safety, but does that mean I’ve lived dangerously? I think not. But it feels as if I might just do that by no longer holding onto my heart or my writing. Instead setting both free and hoping for the best. If you’ve got nothing to lose and nothing to be afraid of… the possibilities are endless.

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Personal Space

I value my personal space. Quite highly, actually. Considering that I am an introvert that’s probably not a surprise. Quiet and peace is where I can collect myself and even thrive. I hate crowds, but I can manage them when necessary.

At the same time I have chosen to work in a job that brings me in contact with people constantly. It’s been a very deliberate choice. As a freelance writer I work from home and don’t get out of the house unless I need food. That’s been true for most of the last nine months that I’ve lived in Hamburg.

I get my social contacts from visiting friends and family or when I’m the one doing the visiting, then usually leaving the city altogether. But working as a freelancer in a new city, where I basically don’t know anyone, makes it difficult to meet new people and make new friends. Hence I decided to get a mini-job, which has the benefit of earning me a little extra cash but also gets me out of the house.

And does it ever. Instead of going for an office job, I got a job in the hospitality industry. That is so very much against my nature, but I’ve been enjoying it immensely. Home is my comfort zone. Going to work means leaving my comfort zone, but truly, I’ve never actually been afraid to leave my comfort zone. I just do it and consider it an opportunity.

Not only does my mini-job bring me in contact with a great number of co-workers, but also the guests we’re looking after. And whilst my contact to the guests is fleeting and ephemeral, I do enjoy it more often than not. Few people thus far have chosen to be difficult and whenever it happened, I handled it.

I have been getting to know a few of my co-workers as well. Most of them are lovely people, some of whom I wouldn’t even mind having as friends. In other words, I’m achieving what I set out to do when I got this job.

Fundamentally I still don’t like crowds, of course. And there tends to be one at every event I work. Most of the time my personal space does not get encroached on too much. Only when I am around my co-workers is there actually any opportunity for anyone to get closer than I might be comfortable with.

On two occasions this week people have gotten closer to me than I really would have liked them. Once a colleague noticed that my black jacket was very dusty and he helpfully brushed all over my back to remove the dust. Whilst that was a nice gesture, I did not welcome his touch and ended up holding the jacket away from my back so he would not touch me more than absolutely necessary.

I appreciated the help and thanked him, but I felt uncomfortable regardless.

A day later I needed to produce an ID badge to security guards, but it had gotten tangled up in my scarf and I had trouble freeing it. Another co-worker helpfully turned around and grabbed for it, almost ending up with her hand in my cleavage. In her case I fumbled quite forcefully to solve the problem myself, because her hand really had no business being where it was.

Some people don’t seem to have a concept of personal space at all.

Now, I’m not a recluse and I actually like hugs from my friends and family. I find that I miss that when I’ve been by myself for some time. And I do allow a fair number of people in my personal space. Usually not straight away, but eventually. It’s the rare exception when someone is allowed to be close to me practically all the time (which means whenever I am with them). Those few people are special to me and not only are they allowed in my personal space, I invade theirs as well, usually without even thinking about it.

The reason I’ve been thinking about this and paying closer attention is the fact that I have this new job and meet so many people after having been alone for a considerable amount of time. Living alone and working from home I seem to have become a little more sensitive where my personal space is concerned. So I notice more when it is being invaded or when someone is inside of it and it doesn’t feel like an invasion at all.


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May the force be with you…

It’s been said that 2016 can’t get any worse. Two days ago George Michael passed away. Incidentally I was at a gay club when I heard the news. I was shocked and so were many others around me who’d come to enjoy a Christmas party. My friend, who’d shown me the news, said something about the curse of immediate news in our connected world. You can’t escape.

George was not the first icon we lost this year. It started with David Bowie, continued with Alan Rickman, whom I adored, moved along with Prince and Mohammed Ali and on and on.

Four days ago Carrie Fisher had a severe heart attack on her flight home. I was worried. But since her mother said that she was stable, I had hope that perhaps Carrie would recover.

Alas, she did not and 2016 dealt us yet another sucker punch.


I’ve loved Princess Leia long before I came to love Carrie Fisher. I’d always liked her, but I didn’t know much about her for the longest time. I knew she had struggled with mental illness and drug abuse. But I learned much more about her when “The Force Awakens” came around. She was on every talk show and spoke oh so candidly. It was refreshing and amusing. She was smart and witty, delightful in many ways and I just loved to hear her perspective.

She was 60 years old. She was a princess. Then a general. And to her adoring fans she will always be a queen. I hope she knew how much we loved her.

RIP Carrie. May the force be with you.

Or, as some others on social media are putting it now: Carrie is one with the force and the force is with her.


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Living on hope

The appeal of writing science fiction and/or fantasy is quite simple: you can do anything. Everything is possible. That is amazing.

Tonight I decided to have a glass of wine. Okay, maybe two. I just felt like it. I never really drink by myself, unless I feel like having some Baileys and actually having a bottle of it at home. But that’s usually just a sip for the flavour of it. Nothing to actually get drunk on, because that would be rather sickening. Too sweet. Anyway, it’s red wine today. For once. And I’m watching ‘Interstellar’ to accompany the glasses of wine. Or perhaps it’s the other way around.

It’s a fascinating movie. Relativity, time, metaphysics, interstellar travel, wormholes, the end of humanity and our future. It’s a quiet sort of movie, which is perhaps why it is rather a long movie. It’s introspective. It’s better on second viewing, too. It’ll probably be even better on third viewing.

I chose the movie because of Anne Hathaway. I might very well be harbouring a crush on her right about now. She’s quite a gorgeous creature and a pretty good actor, too. Earlier I watched ‘Becoming Jane’, which is a lovely movie and one that appeals to me as a writer. I admittedly have never actually managed to read any of Jane Austen’s novels, though I watched ‘Pride and Prejudice’ ages ago and want to watch it again, especially after reading some of what Emma Thompson wrote about the making of the movie. I might have to read Austen’s novels now, too.

I’m buzzed. Slightly all over the place, which I find quite enjoyable. I wonder what it’d be like if I attempted to actually write whilst being buzzed. I mean, beyond writing a blog. I do feel inspired, mind you. Very much so.

‘Interstellar’ is bleak in many ways. But there’s hope, too. We need hope. I think, fantasy and science fiction is often very much about hope.

This year was pretty hopeless. If the electoral colleges cast their votes for Trump tomorrow, we’ll need a lot more than hope not only for next year, but for the next few years beyond that. I digress, I suppose. When you’re not completely sober your mind scatters.

Still, I’m happy. For no particular reason at all.

And then there’s this:

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

We live on hope.

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1,000,000 words and counting

I wish I could say that I’ve been writing that many words over the last month. But the truth of the matter is that I’ve been reading that many words over the last month. Easily.

I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole and it was educational. It was supremely entertaining as well, which was kind of the main point. But I would have been remiss merely to read for the entertainment value of the thing.

Considering that I really should have been writing instead, I wanted to make the most of the experience. I did sign up for NaNoWriMo this year. I had every intention of making it. I had and have plenty to work with. But I could not. I had to read instead.

And what, you may ask, had me so spell bound? I confess it was fanfiction. A guilty pleasure, if you will. But… and this shouldn’t even really be a ‘but’, there’s nothing actually wrong with reading fanfiction. Or writing it, for that matter. I’ve done my share of that.

I have read some excellent and at times stunning writing. And few of the writers would have considered themselves such. I also plowed through some not-so-great writing, because the stories were good enough. They should have been proofread and edited by someone, beta’ed as they say in fanfiction slang. Alas, that was not always the case.

Still, as I said, the experience was educational. And whilst I wrote less than 9,000 words on my NaNo story, I at least collected words. Whenever something struck a cord, I wrote it down for myself. A phrase here, a sentence there.

I also noted an unusual amount of repetitions or phrases, metaphors, analogies some writers were particularly fond of. So much so that I could identify the writers of various stories without knowing their names.

What I realized whilst reading some of the better stories is this: the writers truly cared about their subject, the characters, the source material they based their writing on. And some of them told the story so much better than the original story tellers, pointing out flaws in the characters and their actions that hadn’t occurred to me before. Quite a few stories vastly improved on the source material.

That is the beauty of fanfiction. It is non-commercial and it allows the writers to tackle an aspect of a story that the original author may have treated erroneously or overlooked. The truth is: the characters we create develop a life of their own. And sometimes storytellers are so intent in telling the story instead of honouring their characters that they make them do something that seems rather out of character. Fanfiction writers tend to ‘fix’ those mistakes.

I confess that I’ve never fallen into a reading frenzy such as this one before. I’ve read brilliant books until 4am before, but for the most part I do stop eventually and put the book aside to sleep. Over the last few weeks I’ve been consuming writing voraciously.

I regret nothing.

Especially since it is now time for me to go and write my own stories again. I’m ready. So ready.

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Pandora’s box

The myth goes like this: Pandora was the first woman created. Zeus ordered Hephaestus to make her and so he did, out of earth and water. Athena gave her clothes, Apollo gave her musical ability, Aphrodite beauty and Hermes speech.

But when Prometheus stole fire to give it to humans, Zeus wanted vengeance and thus he gave Pandora a box, knowing that her curiosity would get the better of her and she would open it despite instructions not to do so.

When she did, all the evils in the worlds escaped, including death, sickness, famine and what have you. Pandora hurried to close the box and kept one thing left inside: hope.

Today hope seems to have escaped as well.

When Obama was elected eight years ago, there was a great feeling of elation and hope. Many thought it would be the beginning of a new era. Whilst his presidency did not hold the many promises we had hoped for, he didn’t do a bad job. It could have been a marvellous job and one could argue that it should have been. But with Congress and Senate firmly under Republican rule, it’s hard to do what you want to do.

Still, the Obamas as people, as a family, were the coolest family ever to reside in the White House and Michelle as the First Lady will long be remembered as one of the best and most beloved.

It’s hard to fathom how much people obviously detest Hilary Clinton. She’s deeply flawed as a person and politician. But she is also very accomplished. And at least she was a Democrat and the status quo, as flawed as it is, would not have changed much. At least that’s the theory.

But now the Republicans are in power, as much as they have ever been. They can do as they please and overturn pretty much every piece of progress that has been made during the last eight years. Regardless of any antipathy one might have for Trump as a person, Republican policies and Republican rule in the US are not a good thing. We can expect Planned Parenthood to be defunded. Who knows whether gay marriage will be upheld? Immigration laws will become impossible. Universal healthcare will be overturned.

And that’s just the beginning of it. If ever any of Trumps campaign trail ideas and promises will be made the law of the land, Muslims will not be welcome and black lives won’t matter.

We cannot now foresee what the future holds. If his dangerous insanity, at least the one he spouted everywhere during the last 18 months, will take a foothold and spread further divisiveness, the future will look dire. Perhaps the Republican Party will rein him in, use him as nothing more than a figurehead. God knows he has no political acumen and he’s not even a good business man. But the Republican Party is conservative at best and is now leaning so far to the right that progress is out of the question. Whatever policies they are overturning or adding, the country is likely to be thrown back decades.

Whatever hopes disillusioned voters might have had when they cast their lot for Trump will be sorely disappointed. Trump does not stand for hope and he will not make America great again. Of that I have no doubt.

At the same time I do believe that the DNC has brought this fate upon itself. Constantly underestimating their opposition, fighting dirty and setting their hopes and the fate of the country, even the world, on the shoulders of a woman so hated and vilified, one is inclined to say that they asked for it. How they could not have seen this is beyond me.

Had they nominated Bernie Sanders as their candidate, today would look rather different. I have no doubt that he could and would have won this election. This wasn’t about the lesser of two evils. It was about the establishment. Hilary Clinton is the embodiment of the establishment that people, voters, have become so disillusioned with.

So is Trump, for that matter, though in a very different way. But because he’s not a politician and he speaks without thinking, he gets the popular vote, “because he says it like it is”.

Of course, this is all moot now. The voters have chosen. The establishment deserved to fail. But it is impossible to say what the prize for that will be.

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I was tired most of today. You could blame it on the weather. Grey, drizzly, typical November, really. Or perhaps it was the insufficient sleep of the last two nights. Always restless, brain never stopping.

It probably doesn’t help that I’ve been obsessively reading fanfiction ever since I ended up watching The Devil Wears Prada a few days ago. It was probably only the second time I’ve seen the movie.

Meryl Streep is exquisite in every role she plays. And whilst I’m not a huge fan of Anne Hathaway, she’s quite alright most of the time. As it happens, reading fanfiction inspired by the movie, you become aware of all the flaws in the story.

Never mind that, though, it’s only served to keep my brain busy constantly… all the reading, I mean. It’s been a bit of an obsession over the last few days, to be perfectly honest. A guilty pleasure I found myself unable to resist.

And now, at nearly 11pm, I have been more awake after darkness descended than during the hours of dim light today. I don’t even feel ready to go to bed, which only promises more tossing and turning.

During my student times I used to be a nightowl. The night is my preferred time of the day. Always has been. The pressures of having a 9 to 5 job of some kind or another over the last few years have changed that. I prefer to get my work done as early in the day as possible so I can have the rest of the day to myself.

That doesn’t go well with being a nightowl at all, of course. Yet, lately, I’ve been drawn back into the night and sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t relent and follow the rhythm that feels more natural to me. I write more at night, too, which is always a good argument for simply flipping.

They say you should eat when you’re hungry. Similarly you should sleep when tired. It doesn’t seem that difficult. Quite natural, really. So why don’t we do that? Because of those 9 to 5 jobs. But if I were to do a few jobs now and schedule them for posting in the morning, I would have done my duty and needn’t worry about once the new day dawns.

It’s worth considering…

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