You never know what you want – this is your main problem.
I have no opportunity to fulfill my dreams. Statement false.
What stops you from going on? How can you overcome it? Examine your personal qualities, find your faults (be cruel – they are there as long as you are not where you want to be) and imagine you are a superstar who has no rights to have them.
No money. Wealth does not equal willpower.
No time. There are two types of people – those who never have time and those who always do. You are the second, because we all have 24 h a day.
I have failed. Not an excuse. You are still closer to where you want to be than where you were before. You can create a new aim – and move there from where you are – with an experience and newly acquired resources.
Measurement of your success – your satisfaction. A satisfaction of somebody who is a champion of self-criticism (yes-yes, no tears, no pity, no forgiveness). To earn a praise from yourself is a great achievement. The moment you feel it – you are on the right track.
But remember – no matter how much you have achieved, you have no excuse to stop.
Nobody feels anything about this strange number. Eleven. It is between the top ten and fairytale twelve.
Eleven is also a fairytale. Eleven elves. And in German elf means eleven.
Eleven a.m. is too late for getting up. Eleven p.m. is too late for arranging meetings. Is eleven too early in any case? No. Always too late. Or in time. Simply because there is no other option.
What can you express in eleven words? Too strange a word-count to think about it.
Eleven steps away? Too precise to ever find a place like this.
Eleven roses? Probably an acceptable present to your sweetheart. At least something.
Eleven songs on an album? Frequently observed.
Cannot think of anything more.
Eleven deserves more of existence. In our thoughts, associations, realisations. I am glad to think that this blog post sounds like one more day in the life of number eleven. One more day in the life of an elf.
I’ve started the countdown from eleven seconds. Now I am pressing the “publish” button.
Read Pride and Prejudice. Now I’ve got my third favourite novel along with Wuthering Heights and The Thorn Birds. I cannot decide which one of them I prefer over the other.
Pride and Prejudice – my ideal romance and marriage mixed with charming humour.
Wuthering Heights – violent, crazy love of heroes raised out of hell, surrounded by wild nature and some Gothic motives of magical influence.
The Thorn Birds – contradiction of need and moral principles, duty and affection, religion and love.
I shall never forget that my perfect man is Mr. Darcy, as he has always been. But I want him sometimes to forget his high position at least for an instant and run away with me to the moors. So, a slight influence of Heathcliff would do no harm. But he can still be who he really is – just Mr. Darcy. I shall still love him more than anybody else.
You know you really like the pink colour when you cannot decide what it means to you: love, strawberries, your new lip gloss, sunset, your best friend’s nail polish or your cat’s tongue. You just like it. Everywhere.