Ramblings of a man who has nothing to say
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;
- Work is work. I work in a Bank designing computer systems, how exactly exciting do you think that can get? Of course, the slightly annoying element of me being no longer required come 31st December does cause some concern… but 31st DECEMBER?! That’s like a lifetime away! (feel free to point me in the direction of this post in 2011 and rub my face in it if things don’t entirely work out the way I hope)
- Karate is still providing the source of me getting beaten up in various, and intriguing, ways by multiple peoples. Just as an aside a new lesson has been learnt; do NOT do leg exercises at the Gym just before a karate lesson later that evening. The results are not impressive and the scowling by ones Sensei is something frightening to behold.
- Home-life is home-life. Trying to resolve the latest home based dramas; house, heating, repairs, family arguments, money, etc, etc. is starting to feel like work. In the spirit of holding my hand up though, this is no different than anyone else. However the feeling of just throwing the arms up in the air with some of the new drama’s and say “Fine, I give up, have it your way!” is just too strong at the moment.
- Sleep is not sleep. ‘Nuff said.
- Go back to step #1
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).