Omission

One minute.

Two minutes.

...

The wrists had fallen asleep quite a while ago, the nerves entertaining themselves by tracing the rhythm of circuit workings under the grey keyboard.

She glared at the silent screen, feeling her frustration build. An elf in the Christmas ornament, with a dolty smile waved out to her from the static monitor. He could do that all day long, alright.

Writer's block. Helplessness left her feeling indeed like a clueless human midget, taken away from his beloved North Pole and misplaced in a lively fabrication – dropped without hesitation in the impersonal New York City of December. What honorable agraphia! Her friends would have said. She smirked a self-pity and fell slump back into her chair.

'If and only if I was an elf,' she thought sheepishly. Facebook, AIM, MySpace and check five. What was the point? The true job of a pupil – to elevate one's sense of worth through virtual means. Come; Three cheers for me, me! ME dammit.* Here at the University of Florida. Tangible nature of things, now archaic virtues, rarely availed. Reading islanders, smoking philosophers, nonexistent critics. Pseudo reviews, all-praising, only widened the vacancy in the writer's heart and left her destitute. The digital dreams mocked her.

With the rock symphony beating in her head, she slowly returned to the bedpost. Picking up the accustomed ball pen, she begun the doodling, an attempt to free herself from the typical asphyxiation.

She did not want to see her life betrayed, after all.

* I apologize for this. Take it only for the intended effect and nothing else.

====================================


Meh.

That has been my attitude towards most things around here recently. By things I mean (1) my mind and its lack of creativity, and (2) virtual reality and its oh so overt pretentiousness.

Meh.

*shrug*

I feel like Holden Caulfield -- my single most disliked character in any given book, ever -- and that's saying something.

Meh.

Lawl.