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I can't even say the word, it's too early in the day to get upset.
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There are as many reasons for running as there are days in the year, years in my life. But mostly I run because I am an animal and a child, an artist and a saint. So, too, are you. Find your own play, your own self-renewing compulsion, and you will become the person you are meant to be.
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I'm motivated by injustice, which is embedded and constant and wrong - not by a vernacular soundboard.
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The most annoying thing I found was all the people pretending to be me on MySpace and Facebook. I'm not a member of either, but apparently there is an 'official' Nikki Sanderson MySpace page, complete with rants about how terrible identity fraud is, which is ironic.
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Being published in Arabic is a strong and consistent wish I have. I live in the Middle East and want to be in some sort of an unpragmatic dialogue with my neighbors.
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If trying harder doesn't work, try softer.
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Tender inner weaknesses, revolting at mild touches of censure, are like diseased parts of the body, recoiling before even delicate handling.
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Anger at happenstance for its absurd timing. Anger at myself for being so angry. I hate being angry and every time I got this angry it made me more angry at the fact that I was so angry. I realized though that I couldn't really be mad at any of those things.
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Throw your hands up in the air and celebrate life.
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I started to hate fame, I didn't want to go out, because I didn't want to be recognised for what I was being recognised for.
