Maybe it was because it was Monday, maybe it was because it was a grey December day that leads to melancholia, or because Christmas is coming, or for another reason, but I daydreamed quite a lot at work today. This is something I have done since childhood, when I was at school and bored stiff: I used to invent myself stories, sometimes very complex ones. Some of them we ended up playing them my brothers and I (in teenage and later I got a fair deal of D&Dr material through this), some they were just left in my head.
I guess I never quite grew up and my imagination has always been vivid. I mentioned it before: I am very conscious of my "Don Quixote" side(and I never read Don Quixote). It is strange because my daydreaming did not prevent me from being a good student, neither is it now a hindrance at work. I can have very good, productive days, yet daydream during a fair deal in them. But I sometimes think that I waste what could be good writing material. If I was putting on paper all of what I think about (a character, an image, a certain scene with atmosphere, a good line, what have you) when I should be doing something else, then getting rid of the bad stuff, then working on the good stuff, then trying to organise this into a whole that stands together, maybe I could write a good play, a good crime novel, maybe even the great Québec expat's novel. Well, one can dream. I would need first discipline, I think.
This Country is Doomed
11 hours ago