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Today, I have picked my word for the day out of a little book of children' s verse "about the everyday as well as the fantastical". It is by an author named Irene Rawnsley, and it is called The House of a Hundred Cats. I picked this little treasure up with Ben at my favourite hospice shop, the Sunflower Hospice. It's a truly lovely book and fills me with little ripples of glee when I spot it and take it from the shelf to treat myself to a truly silly little gem of a poem or illustration.
The word I stumbled upon in this little book of wonders is "clockwork". It's a word that brings up both positive and negative connotations for me - I entertain a truly ambiguous stance towards it.
On the one hand, I have always been a big fan of things working out perfectly - timed "like clockwork" and completely faultless. There is something exhilarating about completing a task or reaching a goal seamlessly and efficiently, as if it were set to run as smoothly as the clock on your wall. A few highlights of this past year at university have been executed so perfectly, so flawlessly that I can't help but to attach some positive meaning to this word when I think back on them. It leaves you feeling empowered, proud, and ready to take on ninja lions.
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Clocks, however, are perfect because they are mechanised, and this is never the way I would like to live my life. It's going to be tough, every single day bringing new challenges and moments of pure bliss - you can be sure of this. Everything else is a gamble! I would never want my life or the life of anyone I love to be reduced to mechanised routine and jerky robot dancing... Oh, wait, that's not what clocks do. Plus, jerky robot dancing can be pretty fun!
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...and with that, I must be off - my last exam beckons me to the books!
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