Patience and Selfishness? Understood.

Literature is dead, but we all knew that already. My first book was rather disappointing. It was riddled with rehashing of every conventional story out there. It lacked any sense of creativity or finesse. I assume that every writer must strive to immerse the reader in their story. The goal I thought was to make at least one character have generally identifiable troubles or similarities. There is a problem when I read a book and all the characters are the same exact person, after exonerating their names from them. It does not stop there with pallid and green characters, the setting was what anyone would consider a desert of elucidation. Reading a book with seven plus identical characters, inside a white box or room, is absurdly boring. In my head everything took place in one room. It really makes me wonder how people get to publish such trash. It does not stop there though. I started to gander through another one of my new books. The one with the theories. It abhors me what people can get away with, in this day and age. The book was pretty much a paraphrasing of all Sigmund Freud's theories. It is shocking! A book that can be considered plagiarism in the lowest court of law and order, plagiarising from a crackpot buffoon. Monkey see, monkey do I guess is the anecdote I am looking for.

The gardening book is being a good read so far. I can imagine the cause being the fact that I am actually learning something. I have never wanted to grow something so much in my entire life. Perhaps I shall head to the nearest floricultural repository and pick up a flower pot of some sort. I hope that I can actually remember by the time this week is over. It would seem that gardening would be a facilitator in learning the process of patience. I know for a fact that I need more patience within my quintessence. One plant should be enough to begin my lesson on that issue.

My smoking has finally slowed down, I have smoked thirty cigarettes total, as opposed to my nearly 20 within the first twenty four hours. On coffee; I always thought buying coffee beans was a stupid idea, but the taste was beyond compare. Grinding your own coffee is definitely the way to go, it is well worth the time for what you get out of it. I am obviously the poster-child for unhealthy. Drinking coffee while smoking cigarettes. I need to get around to making myself some tea, but that will have to wait till the weekend. It takes me too long to make good tea. Much too long. Then again, I savour it. It is such an open ended drink, and half the reason I like it so much is the process of making it.

I have been making peace with myself on many issues. So many things I have realized that I simply need to let go. I do an absurdly good job burdening myself with matters that should not even begin to concern me. I always forget I have bigger issues to think about. Selfishness is what makes me worry about the little things. I am not the only person that I have been making peace with. I ran into one person who I simply shut down on. Granted, I had done nothing wrong, but I pointed no blame. I simply listed the ways I was wronged and peace was wrought from the lips of the other. It felt rather good to smile genuinely that time. I hope I can do that more often. This is where I cut short this post. Pardon the random disjointedness. I have just awakened and have a lot to do before I head to work, hence I am a bit rushed.