• There are 11.6 million children in sub-saharan Africa who have been left orphans as a result of Aids
• 1.1 billion people in the developing world don't have access to an adequate water supply
• 1500 women die PER DAY while giving birth
• Half of the world's 2.2 billion children live below the poverty line
• Approximately 1.2 million children are trafficked EACH YEAR
• Finally: 10.5 million children in the developing world die before their fifth birthday

And we sit in our comfortable houses, or we buy that second car, or we drink that extra large frappuccino, or we go on our overseas holidays, or we give our children birthday parties with bouncy castles, or we buy the fancy camera with all the extra features, or we fly to another city for a two hour meeting....

And we can still look each other in the eye like it doesn't matter.

Its a shame this blog isn't more interesting, really. And I had such high hopes for it. Perhaps it was just that I got boring?
(Thats not a question for you to answer)
Everyone else seems to find the time to write witty anecdotes or tasty recipes or sensual poetry, but I find myself devoid of creativity. Devoid of effort, of caring, of knowing what defines me anymore.
I spend most of my days at home, working on assignments, and when I'm not doing that, I'm sleeping. And, perhaps sadly, thats not a euphemism.

Who am I now? I'm not the funny girl, the cute girl, the girl talking in a circle of friends. I can't be bothered to go out anymore, and when I do, I find I'm easily bored or intimidated. Usually both. I don't care about small talk, or topics that don't interest me, and I've lost my smile.
You know, the bubbly one that overflowed into laughter and thoughts of squirrels or foxes or fun things to do. I'm too cynical, too lazy, too deep. And increasingly I find myself questioning how it is that we end up living the lives we do: the choices we make to get here, the boxes we feel confined to, the laws that society or religion dictates for us and we rigidly abide by.

However, the one area in which I'm non-conformist draws me back in and reminds me that I have a deadline in two weeks. A deadline for five assignments that all must be finished, and well, if I'm to stick it to the man in the manner I wish to.