I'm getting paranoid here. What if someone I know reads this? Argh.

And I'm not having much to say. My brain is playing russian roulette with me. I can churn out 600 words in an hour which make absolute sense, flow beautifully and I go "Yahoo! Maybe today I will be able to finish my accursed essay."

And then it churns out 1200 words of nonsensical junk which isn't so bad, because there is something precious lurking in there. The paragraphs just need to be fine-tuned by a tremendous amount, and if my brain is working I would be able to separate the chaff from the distaff and salvage maybe three quarters of it. Plus, maybe my spelling wouldn't be so atrocious!

If my brain was co-operating.

Which it isn't because I have been re-writing the same 10 paragraphs over and over and over again the whole of the bloody week!

Which is why my freaking, blasted, entry has so many mixed metaphors and what-nots that it sounds like one those songs Cacophony the Bard sings and which encourages everyone in that little Gaul village to gag and tie him to a tree.

See what I mean?

I hate being sick. I hate being sick. And I hate typing errors. Sick is not spelt isck. Argh.