Never blog an hour or so before you decide to throw up and get a bad case of the vertigos. Not that it was a conscious decision, but the resultant blog post was a lot more depressing than I had originally anticipated or meant.
Ah well, I shall leave the original blog post up for posterity’s sake, no censorship here… and now if you don’t mind I am off to go and call for Ralph and Huey down the large white telephone.
It’s true, I have reached a kind of prolonged brain-fart. The brain is whirring around, as much as it ever does, the fingers are itchy to put something down in words, but all that comes out is some slightly stale air.
As much as I want to jot down the daily doings of me, in some kind of narcissistic ‘dear diary’, the truth is that not an awful lot of interest happens. Life certainly isn’t in any shape or form as life-and-death as Ann Frank’s, or as tally-ho-trousers-down-and-up-the-constituents as Alan Clark’s.
So I find myself, during lunchtime at work, again within one of the music pods, sitting in front of this blog wondering what the hell to write down? Life, as I see it, is pretty much consisting of the following;
In my actual verbal self I am a person who doesn’t mind not having something to say. I am completely comfortable, when I have nothing of interest to say, in saying nothing at all. I don’t have the gift of the gab or have a hundred and one amusing anecdotes with which to regale friends and colleagues alike, and as seen from the above there’s nothing of note to bore the poor person I happen to be with about.
I just wish I had the same control when it came to blogging, although why blog in the first place if that were to be the case? Here’s as good a place as any to dump any brain-fartage and it’s not as though anyone reads the thing!
There, “ramble” done and dumped onto the t’interweb along with all the other rubbish that inhabit it. No violence (or at least none seen), or porn (that would be too terrifying a vision to dwell on) or conclusion to this post….
…just a faint stale smell, depending on how long after I posted this you read it, and a slightly relieved feeling on my part to expel it albeit somewhat publicly (which is very rude).
Meh, you know what? I had sat down with the absolute intention to try and list some resolutions for this year, but after faffing about without typing anything at the keyboard have come to the realisation that I really can’t be bothered to set any. This is not actually 100% true, I do have some goals that I have set for myself, but these are the same I always have;
But that’s about it. I also can’t be much bothered to review last years, apart from; I did achieve the two belts, but didn’t get fit.
Ever so slightly uninspired today. However the cartoon below did brighten the day somewhat…
The walk to the hairdressers shouldn’t have been this hard, but add a sprinkling of snow, a fair few nights in the negative celsius’s, a hill and one 6’1 lolloping idiot into the mixture and things take their usual course.
To be honest I didn’t think the path rose quite as much as it obviously does, but the one step forward and slide 3 feet back seemed to confirm the fact. I also discovered the now hard learnt lesson that, no matter how cold it is, you shouldn’t keep your hands stuffed deep inside your coat pocket when tackling an icy slope. Keeping one’s dignity when face planting the grassy border is difficult if not nigh-on-impossible.
Despite the slightly longer than anticipated journey my hair is now back to its usual short ‘n spikey self, I can also confirm that gravity still works and my trip DOWN the hill was considerably quicker and more painful than the trip in the opposite direction!
Arse!… literally.