My Trout of Doubt

I came to my parents on weekend as always. We did not go to the concert that we planned for almost dozen days. Though, I had to run to my car, champing in watery-snowy mess with my winter boots (which were not water-resistant, as I have found out today) after the telephone conversation with mum and dad, who were convinced that we are obliged to listen to the piano play of our family friend.
Nevertheless I had a good dinner with my parents. I was pretty happy to eat something cooked at home, because I have dropped that activity for weeks now. I am pretty sure that if I lived my life the way it should be lived (i.e. Lonli-Lokli style) I would not skip my breakfasts or substitute dinners with pop-corn and chocolate. I am considering taking the challenge of trying to live some time offline. But I payed for the Internet for the next two months and I am pretty sure that I will not survive even one day without it. I am not that autonomic, taking into account that I only have discographies of Placebo and Poets of the Fall on my netbook and my blog is online, too.
I also did a revision of the stuff that piled on my desk (parents' house, of course) for months. I had to read some old magazines before putting them on the shelf. I don't really know why I need all this glossy paper that I don't even like to touch much. But maybe I will find a better purpose for its existence than just taking the room in the house (the room which could have been filled with dust, for example).
While spending the evening in my parents' room I have found out that English grammar books (chaotically scattered everywhere near the sofa) were not that interesting for me anymore. It may be because I picked the books that I have studied at school or because of my eternal hunger for adventures (oh gosh, do I have at least a small drop of this anyway?). Anyhow, I picked another book from the 'languages' shelf - 'German in 3 months'. And I have told everybody that I started learning German. I hope this time it does not end with some fatal move like forgetting the book at parents'.
After the time has come for me to hit the sack, I decided to introduce myself to yet another book in this house. And I took the Salmon of Doubt (postmortem, by Douglas Adams). I want to read his Dirk Gently novels first, before starting to read his last book, but sometimes I find the strength and interest in myself for introductions and forewords. So I read the editor's note (by Peter Guzzardi), prologue (by Nicholas Wroe) and foreword (by Stephen Fry). And thus I have found myself sad and inspired. Sad because I thought that Adams will never write a book again, and that I have spent so much time postponing my life, while thinking that I just have to finish the University. I have let jurisprudence to crawl too deep into the core of my life, while calming my mind with "it is not for long, the time will come and you can write all you want". I had all kinds of depression and suppression on the way, which had not led me to the point at which I wanted to arrive. On the other side I have been inspired by these pages of high-quality praise of Douglas Adams works. It made me realize that I want to change those things that I described above as those that make me sad. I want to live my life as a writer. I know that I might fail at it. That's why I will try to manage my time more efficiently. And do all the blah-blah-blah. Yeah, I have to stay optimistic and this will bring me to success.