I forgot what I wanted to write about

Honestly, I had a great blog post in mind on Monday night. I was thinking myself to sleep and about what to write. Woke up. Completely forgot.
I am also a day late in my attempt to write at least one thing per week.
And I am stuck on my essay on 'Porphyria's Lover'. Its a poem about how a man strangles a woman with her hair when he realised she loved him so that their moment would never end. So far I have written about how pathetic fallacy is used to set the scene for an emotional feel, repetition emphasises the importance of the words....
The difficult thing is, when I write an essay, it always sounds pretentious and I don't buy half the things I say. The more difficult thing is, those essays receive really good marks.
I write about how the author uses techniques to convey this and that. But I think we read too much into things. So, the room was silent.
The room was silent.
But we have to read into that phrase as: the room held unspoken secrets .... etc..
That's how we could interpret it. However, did the author really mean it?
In English we read stuff, and make our own assumptions on it. That's fine. But I don't want to say that's how the author used these words or techniques. And I don't think being able to create meanings from words means you are good at English.
There's a saying, about how beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
I guess that is the case with this. A story is as story. But you can interpret it so differently to everyone else.
Dissecting and thinking about the meaning we receive from words, takes away the whole point of reading. When you read a book, your mind should automatically interpret those words into messages and signals for your brain. If you need to look at each sentence at a time, and think deeply about what it 'could' mean, where is the fun of reading?
If I were to write a story, or a poem of some kind. I wouldn't want the readership to analyse every utmost detail. What's the point? The likelihood is they will never get to the exact ideas I had when I wrote those words. The ideas they form for themselves are perfectly acceptable, that's the beauty of words, everyone can see the same words, but read it differently.
A piece of writing should not be dissected. Takes the romance out of it.

Frustratingly, I need to go against everything I said, and try and finish the outline of my essay. Full of pretentious  analysations, and meaningless assumptions.

There's my rant about my homework. I should get back to it. Be 'productive'.

Goodbye

A writer's block. And lets just talk.

When one finds oneself stuck.
I would not call it a writer's block.
But rather a lack of inspiration.
And though I would not call it, oh I don't know, a lack of oxygen.
It does feel a little empty.
So I will just talk.
Romeo and Juliet.
What we are studying in English.
And I must admit I hate to admit this.
I 'kinda' appreciate Shakespeare.
I guess when you look at something in depth.
There's always more.
And that something more.
Is what makes it so clever.
And how he uses poetry and writing skills.
Well, I wish I had his skills
And then there's my shaved carrot joke.
A joke a fine comedian - yours truly, made up.
But everything think its terrible.
But everyone still laughs at its stupidity.
And in a way.
Thats why its a joke.
Its not clever, but it made people laugh.
In fact, one could say because of how bad it is.
Its good.

And, so with the effort of a tired Friday evening brain.
I wrote a blog post.
About.
Well, being uninspired.

What did the shaved carrot say to the cucumber?
'I'm smoother than you.'
What did the cucumber say to the shaved carrot?
'At least I'm cooler than you.'

I'm joking, its just bad. But considering its the first joke I have ever made up.
I think I have a good chance of being better than Michael McIntyre.