Left wanting, left wandering

"Map it to a sphere! Do it!"

Ah, terrain generation. Good times. I look at his project and think: "Goodness. I'm struggling with sorting algorithms and now he's programming pure awesomeness into his virtual world.

*sigh*

I wish I was a programmer.

I'm reading a fantastic book on feminist theory (or freedom from gender roles) and how it can be compatible with Christianity. I don't believe the husband should lead. I think, ideally in my life, I'd like to share leadership and function as a team with my wife. I think a healthy dose of idealism is important.

*sigh*

I wish I was an arts student.

I've been having more fun writing short stories and working on my novel than I've ever had on any one day at uni. I get a kick out of a well-structured, beautifully flowing piece of prose. I admire those who produce wonderful creative bodies of work. I enjoy getting lost in an environment I've constructed and conveying a message or simply an entertaining tit bit to whoever will read it.

*sigh*

I wish I was a writer.

I love the feeling of accomplishment I get when I manage to jog further than I thought I could. I have fun upping my weights (I'm no power lifter) every now and again. I'm not narcissistic. I'm not vain, but I like to look at my physical being and see something I've had an effect on.

*sigh*

I wish I was a regular gym goer.

I had a fantastic day at the galleries the other day. I relaxed in the sculpture garden. I saw an amazing exhibit on different styles of furniture and the balance between aesthetic beauty and functionality and when they meet in creative ways. Seeing my sister produce beautiful/provocative works of art for her course in Fine Arts makes me so jealous.

*sigh*

I wish I was an artist.

Well...

I came up with a novel construct in one of my algorithm classes yesterday that I'm quite proud of. I guess I'm not a bad programmer.

I had a great conversation on the merit of different political systems and the state of social attitudes this afternoon. Hmmm... In many ways I am a student of the arts.

My book is coming along quite well, with some very positive feedback so far. At least I'm finding an outlet for my writing.

I've been maintaining nightly jogging sessions for many weeks now. I can run further than I would have ever thought, even compared to back when I was a little lighter than I am now. I'm not unfit, certainly.

I gave my sister an idea for a work I'd like her to start on. She's taken too long, so I'll begin without her. I don't want to disclose the details. It's quite special, I'm sure. Here goes my attempt at constructing and conveying meaning from a collection of symbols. I'm about to try ART (Heh heh... I love teasing my sis with words exactly like these)!

Things are actually quite good.

I'm smiling,

TheSovietChairman

P.S. My girlfriend? She never leaves anything wanting (except for more time with her).

Chapter 1, page 1

The iron chains bobbed up and down, became taut, then loosened again as the waves pushed and pulled the giant pontoon around the inlet. A pier reached out to it with a hinged boarding ramp that scraped against the deck in time with the waves. Its movement added rhythm to the night. The only other sounds were the breaking of waves on the shoreline, the creaking of the chains and the occasional rustle of the wind through the native grasses behind the boardwalk. The evening seemed to breathe heavily, but without any obvious signs of life.

An entire college rested on the floating platform, complete with dormitories, kitchens, laboratories and a gymnasium. From the pier it appeared to be as tall as the inlet was wide. The hulking shape of the school made for a terrifying view in the moonlight. It was widest near the middle and the silhouette was jagged with balconies and platforms. Approaching the entrance, the dark, angular shape of the greenhouse could be seen immediately above the large front door. Several lights shone from the surrounding dorm rooms.

From one such room, a paper boat fell and landed silently on the water. Another followed, seconds later. Then another. After a few minutes, a fleet was gathered beneath the window. Some were upright, others lay on their sides, each a different design.

Inside the room a boy paced from his desk to the window, deployed another vessel, then returned to his chair. A desk lamp illuminated his small, wooden bedroom. He pulled another piece of paper off the pile and started folding, first in half, then he pressed in the corners. He turned the paper over in his hands, folding and unfolding until he'd formed a hull and and a cabin. He put this last boat on his desk, pulled out a pen and wrote “H.M.S. Riley” on each side. After switching off the lamp, he pulled himself up onto the bed, lay on top of the blankets and stared at the ceiling.

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

Well, that was the first page of the first chapter of my first children's novel.

That's all you get until it's finished.

Wish me luck,

TheSovietChairman