The first episode of „Flight from Hell” is out!

I had this crazy, complicated dream last night. Of which I can barely remember anything, which is a problem since I can remember the plot was awesome and the settings were so perfect they could make Hollywood cry.

I’m under the weather again today. Somewhat dizzy, somewhat nauseous. It’s either some sort of flu, or the meditations of my ’enemies’ are actually working for once (yes, I live in a context in which people meditating for my downfall is not entirely out of the question, even if I think it highly unlikely – I’m not important enough).

Today I felt sort of like crap. I think there’s some sort of virus striking at random and it was my turn to feel as if I were hit by a particularly nauseating bus. So I wrote a bit and played a bit. World of Tanks, because it’s apparently what I play nowadays.

Just a short announcement: my novel, „Flight from Hell” will be launched on the 4th of August on the Big World Network. Keep an eye out for Roxana Kiril 😉

There is this wide-spread misconception concerning writers, which I suppose comes from literature lessons in high school: that writers need ideas.

A friend of mine, KD Heart, is participating in what is probably a really bad idea. Namely, a challenge to record fanfiction. No prizes as such, that I know of, but she’s having fun. This is for her 😛 All the rest of you are probably way better off ignoring this current batch of crazy crap. I mean, you probably like your sanity and all that.

Author’s Note: This is another one of my infamously stuck-in-first-draft stories. One day I’ll actually edit it.

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The first time I saw her – really, really saw her, not just glanced at her as we tried our best to catch the back seats in the small university classrooms – she was at a piano. Maybe I’d never have really been able to notice her had it not been for that one, strange evening when destiny gently pushed me out of my awkward life and into hers.

If only children can be prodigies, then I wasn’t one any longer. I’d lived through my glory years at school, where I’d gone off and won prizes for art and English, maths and physics, running circles around classmates and less talented professors. Eventually, when push came to shove and I had to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, I hid behind some more studying, delaying that dreadful moment when I’d have to prove that not only was I smart, but that I was also able to do something. I chose English and physics as majors, convinced I could do both easily enough. I wasn’t right. I wasn’t very wrong, either. There wasn’t much of a personal life left between the two, but I took my exams with flying colors and dreamed of the day I’d win a Nobel prize. I don’t think it will ever actually happen, but even fools can dream.