From the hen

... and not from the little wise one, ah why not

From the wise little hen - from me =)

I have been thinking a lot lately. Every morning I turn on the news, and as I enjoy having a long morning with time rather then the rush hour many prefer - I get the news run over and over a few times. Plus the occasional political discussion and opinions. Yes, I have chosen this before music and happy breakfast listening. Why am I preparing to complain... Hmm, I am wondering if I should jump to the conclusion of being contempt... It is hell for my blogg me being contempt (almost happy... shhh!) To little to write about, and since I have to big papers to write in one month (and two exams) I do not feel like writing about my usual social ponders.

But.. The news... should finish what I started. I have started being so critical to every little opinion, feeling no one ever manages to give a good story. It feels like everyone is saying "no comment", at least that could leave me speculating about what that means. Making any sense? But then again I suddenly go ahead being totally naive in some questions, dahh... Just when I need my critical thinking I fail myself. Something that comes with time, but with this speed I will be the biggest skeptic ever (believing in God and alternative medicine... hehe)
...and there goes all my arguments as usual. I must like discussing with myself, and in the end pointing out that I failed to actually make a point!

By now my hair removal cream has stayed on waaaay to long, and maybe the itchy feeling from that is making my blogg a tad incoherent (a good psychological protection when I publish a post I just should have deleted)

Looks like the wise little hen remained just a hen today, might as well be just that.. without feeling the wrath of my own judgment of mediocrity. (That ended up being a strange sentence that I am not sure I made understandable... hmm)

Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation. 
Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900), De Profundis, 1905