I’d never really heard of, and certainly not thought about Active Voice vs. Passive Voice before, I may have altered sentences before to change the emphasis but never consciously though ‘this should be active’. I suppose some of my older readers will be grumbling ‘what do they teach them in schools nowadays!’ I have to say, I agree. I did English at A level and this distinction was never mentioned, maybe a creative writing element should be added to the course?
Anyway, this weeks challenge was to ‘listen to the voices in you head’. To see the full challenge click here. I would appreciate your opinions as this diverges from my usual writing style, thank you.
Life as a Laptop
I have sat here, on the floor under the sofa, quiet and comfortable all day. It has been peaceful, no disturbances or interruptions from careless two-legged beings. Occasionally one of these inhabitants of the room where I lay folds themselves into a chair and stares dreary-eyed at a fellow screen. I know at some point my services will be called upon and I will be required to reach out into the cloud and drag relevant images and words to my screen.
Sure enough, I am picked up and placed on a denim-clad lap, my cable starts gently vibrating as sparks of electricity forces me out of a thoughtful slumber. Uncaring fingers prod soundly on my keys before my prized ‘Enter’ button is slammed ungraciously. I can feel the tics and twinges of my circuitry being unwound and the laps’ owner sighs and settles back anticipating a couple of hours of stress-free internet browsing.
For some reason, I find this to be irritating. Grumpily I decide not today mate!
I allow the home screen to load, complete with a photo of the four-legged fluffy thing which sniffs and bats at my wires once in a while. I then cunningly lull the stubby, ungrateful fingers into a false sense of security as the Google home page pops up. A few minutes of browsing pointless you-tube videos, I feel a sense of glee and anticipation as the page stutters and declares: “Windows is not responding”.
Ha-ha got you! What you gonna do now punk? Damn those videos.
A swear word is uttered from up above and as the page freezes I am turned off.
And on again.
I sigh, so predictable. A couple more of these instances and I will be allowed to recover back in my place on the floor. Maybe I’ll read a book, Austen or Brontë perhaps. My English needs rejuvenating after being forced to view bad gangster scenes by the inferior object whose lap I warm.