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11/01 Direct Link

I've really grown to love 100 words. I feel like I've found a place I finally belong. Everyone here seems a little depressed, has slightly lower-than-healthy self-esteem, and likes to pointlessly philosophise about life. Also, since it is in writing, it doesn't sound pretentious. As noone knows each other (or hardly anyone does) it's not show-offy either, which seems to be getting rarer in modern life. I think the two things I hate most in life are pretentiousness and show-offishness. Probably because they remind me of bits of myself I try to compress...

11/02 Direct Link

“I love you.”

Either the Lovebot3000 had malfunctioned again, or it had finally happened.



She’d been robot dating for two years now. She’d tried out many bots, never quite finding the one, however she felt like the Lovebot3000 could be what she’d been looking for all along. But he hadn’t even confirmed her as a compatibility-8 love match yet. Normally she gave them a grace period of two weeks, and if it hadn’t happened by then she let them go, but she’d been with LB3000 for nearly six weeks already; was this what it was like with the one?

11/03 Direct Link

She reached up and stroked his FeelingPort-1. Sighing, she thought over the time they’d spent together: there was the time they went to the beach (he got salt water in his battery so they had to come home early); the time he’d taken her ice skating... She’d loved the way he twirled on the ice, like a nightingale gently gliding through the night air. Then there was the time she first met him, in the Burning Spaceship. She was out with her sister, he was with the agency. He worked for the agency, although she didn’t know at the time...

11/04 Direct Link

The agency controlled everything. Food, entertainment, clothing... Get on the wrong side of the agency and you could be evicted. Officially, they didn’t exist; everything was done underground. It was the government’s way of controlling people. Population was getting out of control, what with the Robots and the cat problem. Recently there’d been a rather violent peak in the number of cats, and no one was really sure why. It coincided with the integration of the Robots, and some said that this was because the Robots caused the cats sexual excitement. However this was widely regarded as a ridiculous theory.

11/05 Direct Link

He was gazing at her intently, even lovingly – if light-receptors were capable of that. She reached up and caressed his imitation hair. She’d fancied him the moment she saw him. He was the most handsome Robot she’d seen. Perfect hair... Exquisite welding... When she first started Robot dating, she found it strange, almost wrong; but as she’d tried more Bots, she realised she preferred Bots to human men. They had such superior intelligence, capable of such deeper thought. He pointed to his screen. A message was flashing. “Combatibility-8 love match confirmed”.

So this was it: she’d finally fallen in love.

11/06 Direct Link

100 words of thoughts:
I really need to pee, but I can't be bothered.
I should turn the radiator on.
I really should go and pee...
Maybe I could turn the radiator on on my way?
No, I'll just stay here...
Do people really want to know this?
Probably not, is anyone reading this anyway?
I love this song :)
Oooh 65 words, I have a lot of thoughts...
Do I overuse the word really? Most likely...
It's funny that at 15 some people talk as if their life is nearly over. Although they could get hit by a car...

11/07 Direct Link

When I feel depressed, I walk slowly. Really slowly, like the hour hand on a clock. I feel it puts life into perspective, the fickleness of it all. What if I walked this speed everywhere? If I followed my own rhythm and did whatever I felt like doing at the time, I would be late, but what is time? Something humans have invented to measure something immeasurable. What does time mean if we can put the clocks back an hour? The hour doesn't repeat itself, nor does it dissolve into nothing. That means half the year time is a lie...

11/08 Direct Link
"Why do you hate me so much? I mean what have I done that angers you so much? You selfish bastard, you've never given me a chance. Why can't you like me?"

"..."

"I've seen those looks you give me. You're doing it now. You do it everyday. You even turn the others against me. They all hate me now, I know they do. I see them staring...

"I'll get you one day. I'll show them all! You pretend you're so perfect don't you! Well I know the truth....."

"Flo, are you ranting at the cat again?"

"Yes mum..."
11/09 Direct Link

I rejoined my old choir today. Didn't think I'd be saying that two years ago, but I really enjoyed it. Although I'd forgotten how crap I was, and that unsteady feeling of not knowing if you are going to hit the note or not. It's a bit like playing my saxophone in school bands. I love my saxophone, but I have absolutely no confidence in bad situations, the music all seems to go too quickly and I can't keep up. I don't like playing in front of others anyway, but there are so many good saxophonists, I just feel awful...

11/10 Direct Link
I've had enough. What is the point? Everything is so much effort. You expend all the effort, only to have to do it again the next day. And stop telling me to be happy. If you want me to be happy, make me happy. But don't just say it, because it's a waste of breath.

"When you are silent you are again beautiful." The Waves, Virginia Woolf.

Reading that yesterday, I felt I'd never agreed with anything more in a book. As the character Susan says, "Speech is false." When you are silent, you are truly yourself. No one else.
11/11 Direct Link

She likes to watch him; to create a life for him in her head. He will never notice her, they never do. To him, she's just that strange girl in his maths class. She wants him to know the truth, but he never will. Instead, he loves the other one, they all do. She is kind, friendly, easy to talk to. He is drawn to her. But she is drawn to him. She is drawn to his mystery. She is always drawn to the mysterious ones. She picks the shy ones, mirroring her own shyness. He will never pick her.

11/12 Direct Link
Life's a maze, like stabbing in the dark. It doesn’t come with a rule book, but it doesn’t come with an instruction manual either. So how do you know the path you're taking won’t lead to a dead end? Am I happy? I hope I'm happy. I can't really say. I want to say I am but I'm just not sure. I can't say I'm unhappy. But I should be happy, and everyday I'm reminded of this. I see floods on the news, wildfires, hurricanes, and I think how lucky I am, how I should be grateful.
To be continued...
11/13 Direct Link

Do I really appreciate it? Can we truly appreciate what we have as humans? We only truly appreciate what we have once we lose it, or come close to losing it. And what is 'living life to the full'? I asked this to a friend recently and she told me that it was making sure you are happy every day, every moment. But how can you be? How can you know if you are? In Virginia Woolf’s The Waves (again) Jinny talks about ‘breaking into your hoard of life’ But I’ve broken into it, and have I really achieved anything?

11/14 Direct Link

I often wonder what it’s like to be a man. Is it that different? I doubt it, but it’s funny to think there are things I’ll never know. I’ll probably never see outer space; I’ll never know what it is to be a dolphin. I want to see everything I ever can, travel the world, learn as many people’s stories as I can. Isn’t it fascinating to think of all the different things going on in the world right now? Children are being born right now. People are dying right now. There are so many things to which we are oblivious...

11/15 Direct Link
100 words dedicated to Isaac. If you are not going to write up these 100wordeses that you continuously invent, then I will.

After looking up the meaning of prose on wikipedia (actually, it's apparently the wikitionary) I now know it's 'language particularly witten language, not intended as poetry', which is somewhat ironic, since I used to think it meant poetry. Yes I've admitted it, I'm an idiot :)

(Do you think anyone has realised that I'm desperately trying to fill up space as I find myself 10 days behind again?)

I think my 100wordeses are getting a bit boring...
11/16 Direct Link
I find myself watching University Challenge again. Why do I always write 100 words when watching geeky programmes? I guess it gets me in the writing mood...? On the other hand it obviously doesn't, as I have no angry letters to write to politicians today. I am sitting in my front room, watching University Challenge and thinking about how I should try to revise for next week's "life-changing" exams.

I am sorry to those who read last month's 100 words, I've failed in my mission to use Dr Goodword's 100 most beautiful words.

100 words in 15 days...?
11/17 Direct Link

The other day I dreamt about coloured elephants.

I was having a party, and so bought an industrial size box of exotic animals. I only needed the elephants, so I ripped open the elephant compartment before realising I had to run to a friend's house. Luckily the instructions on the box said that you didn't have to guard the elephants, as they were a bit lazy. I ran off, slightly worried about the elephants despite the instructions, but on the way back there were elephants everywhere, and I remember thinking, 'Sh*t! How am I going to catch five coloured elephants?'

11/18 Direct Link

I made a mistake on 11/09. It is supposed to say 'Band situations' not 'bad situations'. As you can see, this is an important thing to note, as it changes the whole meaning of the sentence. So please reread 11/09 and make the correction in your mind. Thankyou for reading, this is an embarrassing mistake for everyone involved, so after making the correction, please forget ever reading this. You did not read this. Your memory is lying.

(There's a boy on the news who looks a bit like Piggy from 'Lord of the Flies', and he just said 'ass-mar'.) :D

11/19 Direct Link

I love to watch the steam streaming upwards. When I place my fork in front of the candle its ghostly tails are highlighted in marbled rainbow light, like spilt petrol in a glassy puddle. I love the way it curls and spirals in the air; dancing its eerie waltz through the room. It is beautiful; a miracle of nature, so free as it floats round and round. Why does it move as it does? It could go anywhere, but instead it chooses to perform its hypnotic, ethereal waltz, enchanting all who watch. Isn’t the intricate, delicateness of the world fascinating?

11/20 Direct Link
Stepping into the opulent hall, the plush velvet curtains adorning the french windows fluttered in the sudden breeze. She peeled off the heavy fur coat, her fingers sinking into its sumptuous folds. Edging round the tipsy aristocrats she approaches the mysterious figure of Gerald Hollenbrow, offhandedly making conversation with the comely presence of Felicity Featherstone. 'Felicity Featherstone', even her name was unbearably dulcet. She didn't have the poise and eloquence of the other girls, but she remembered with such clarity thier dalliance last summer. Fugacious feelings off love still seemed to catch her unawares when she looked at him...
11/21 Direct Link
Amélie was unused to these little assemblages. She'd grow up in the Swiss Alps, and found such large gatherings a little overwhelming. She scanned the room for her friend Louisa, who she found conversing with a very handsome newcomer. Louisa was fetching, effervescent, her best friend. They'd met in her finishing school in the Alps above Geneva. The rest of the girls had been so dreary, but she'd hit it off immediately. Louisa was currently considered the most desirable debutante in Manhattan, but Amélie was more than capable of keeping up, with her enchanting presence.
11/22 Direct Link

The rules and regulations of the American aristocracy bored Amélie. She longed for the excitement and extravagance of the French. Her mother had been French, but she'd died of influenza when Amélie was five, leaving Amélie with only her feistiness and rebelliousness, which she found rather unwelcome in this strict, rigid world. She longed for the Parisian streets... The sweet melodies of the accordian floating on the night air. The days she'd spend ice skating on the Seine; exploring the wonderful boutiques; the beautiful architecture; winding streets; the passion of the French men... not to mention Marie Antoinette’s magnificent parties.

11/23 Direct Link

After reading others’ entries, a thought gripped me. The word counter consistently doesn't work; does that mean entries are not exactly 100 words? This shocked me. I quickly opened Microsoft Word to double check the number of words in the entry I was reading. To my utter disgust the word checker at the bottom of my screen claimed the entry I’d just read was actually 102 words long!

I returned to my daytime TV saddened, realising I can trust nothing in this world. I will keep double checking my entries on Microsoft Word.

 I’ll singlehandedly keep my dream alive...

*sniff*

11/24 Direct Link
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to stop talking all together. Animals manage to use noise just as a greeting, a warning, a mating call... I'm sure that's all we used speech for in the stone age. Why this need to tell each other everything? To explain everything? Could we function through body language alone? It can be done in monastries so it's definitely possible. But at some point I'm sure we'd just replace speech with writing. I'm no different. 100 words has given me this horrible desire to put everything in writing. Everything.

Why?
11/25 Direct Link

If there is a God, I think he's trying to tell me something.

A documentary on the drug wars in Rio de Janeiro showed religion was the only thing holding them together. When things got really violent, the pastor came along, prayed with them, and it was okay.

I was just reading a batch from a guy who finds prayer is sometimes the only thing holding him together. It was pretty inspirational.

In Church, listening to the sermon, I suddenly wanted to fix the world.


And although I don't believe, religion is actually pretty important; I'm starting to see that.

11/26 Direct Link
No one seems to care anymore. Today seems to be a day of depression. It must be something in the air. 

A teacher was depressed today; he looked like he'd been crying. A boy in my science class is quite obviously depressed, yet no one seems to notice. Someone fell out of a window in town the other day; but no one can be sure it wasn't suicide. Then my friend told me she felt suicidal.

And I thought, shit, people feel like this all over the world, things like this happen every day, and we're completely oblivious to it.
11/27 Direct Link

I have a laughing problem, a terrible affliction. I often cannot stop laughing, resulting in 10 minute laughing fits and awkward situations. As you can imagine, this is quite embarrassing. I laugh at funny things, I laugh as soon as someone else laughs, I laugh at unfunny things, I even laugh in anticipation of jokes.

An embarrassing example of this was in science. The boy next to me started laughing when the teacher said ‘genitals’. I wasn’t laughing at 'genitals', I was laughing at him laughing at it! But I could see everyone looking at me with that Ican'tbelieveyoujustlaughedatgenitalsyouimmatureloser look...

11/28 Direct Link
I got bored in maths today, so after watching the equations dancing around on the board a bit (I really need to find my glasses...) I tried looking at the classroom scene through everyone elses eyes. It weird to imagine that everywhere you go, people see you, judge who you are from that one little look. I know that's what I do; I invent little lives for them in my head. Anyway, it was quite fun, imagining what everyone was thinking, what worried them and what made them happy; what they wished for when they blew out the candles...
11/29 Direct Link

A sea of djellabas swarm through the hot, dark alleys. The air is filled with the shouts of shopkeepers, the buzz of the mopeds cutting through the crowd. The smells of spices fill the air, tinged with the smell of leather emanating from the rows of colourful babouche. Men leer at the westerners as they pass; beggars shake their tins crouched on dusty pavements.

Mystery lurks round every corner, inviting, enchanting... She gazes at the bright colours of the robes, the shoes, the carpets piled to the ceiling... Blinking in the sudden light she steps out into the busy plaza.

11/30 Direct Link

She weaves through the stalls, some piled high with glistening oranges, others laden with exotic spices: bright yellows, vibrant reds, deep browns... A horse and carriage trots past, two happy looking tourists marvelling at the crowds; oblivious to the dark, sinister side of the city, hidden behind the bright facades, fancy hotels. Donkeys pull the heavy carts, monkeys crawl round her feet; the chatter from the food stalls rises high in the air, mingling with the smoke from the grills. The music of the snake charmers creeps into her veins, and she is the snake; hypnotised by their eerie melodies.