It is 5.25am in the morning and thanks to the constant curse of light that floods into my room, I can’t sleep. I am presuming that insomnia-like symptoms are one of the many plagues that wear away at any writer. The author of the Mr Men books must struggle with nightly terrors. It’s been a while since my last blog but due to my hectic schedule (and eternal laziness) I’ve been unable to find time to write anything (seriously, my sister is still waiting on her birthday card).
I have taken up a new hobby, which I am going to share with you all right now in the hope that you all may join in. Due to the recent brushing up of my grammar, my inner stickler has re-awoken and I have decided to carry, at all times, a black marker pen around with me. It is now my daily task to correct any grammatical errors wherever I see them and I do so gleefully.
For people who actually care about punctuation, when you’re faced with a sentence that isn't grammatically correct, it tends to arouse feeling of violence and often despair.
So, lately I’ve been thinking about loyalty and faith in friendship. I am beginning to think I actually believe the whole “with age comes wisdom” thing. It is only now I am starting to see the bad in people, no sorry, not the bad in people; who people really are. When I was younger I didn’t actually have much insight into the deeper characteristics of my friends, even my closest ones. Unless you’re sporting some sort of supernatural internal ESP that allows you to plunge deep into your friends soul, then you’re going to make harsh errors in judgment. Even Clark Kent was friends with Lex Luthor in the beginning, but as he got older his eyes were opened to who Lex really was. Now, I am not comparing any of my friends to Luthor; nor am I suggesting that any of them are capable of conjuring up evil, diabolical schemes that would threaten the world, but the comparison is valid. I recently received a text, not an hour ago, from someone who I used to declare, for years, was my soul mate. The text said that there shouldn’t be a rift between us, as it was a waste. I am inclined to agree with her. Though I highly doubt our friendship will ever burn as bright as it used to, it would be tragic to just dismiss what we had, for she was one of the very, very few people who actually understood me in all my oddity. Sure, a conflict was formed, some harsh words were exchanged, but I think that’s life. Am I right in saying that? Friends disagree all the time and perhaps go months without speaking but this girl did a lot for me over the years, she was there when no-one else was and though a good few people with criticise me for building a bridge with her, I’m glad we are beginning to sort things out. The way I see it is: if someone is meant to be in your life then they will always be in it, despite whatever gaps or obstacles may occur.
Moving on. Next I’d like to gather peoples opinions on Stagecoach health and safety. I am seriously toying with the idea of writing a guide or maybe even making a Microsoft power point display advising, warning and guiding the various passengers that rely, albeit reluctantly, on stagecoach. The other day I boarded the bus and, soberly, stumbled up to the driver. I told the driver what my desired location was (as far away from him, preferably) and paid the extortionate fair. After receiving my change I swiftly turned and examined the bus. Do you ever do this? You analyse the bus and its contents, I mean fellow passengers, before you even begin your assent to your desired seat. I do. Every time. Much like Frodo I had a burden to bare on my journey: over my shoulder I sported my laptop case, and in my other hand I held a bag of clothes. I turned and began scrutinising the bottom deck of the bus and I was horrified with what I saw. There they were, in full display of the public, parked at the front of the bus, these two fatties sitting adjacent to each other, taking up two seats… each! It was like they had been strategically placed at opposite sides of the bus to avoid it toppling over. To make matters worse they were dog owners. Now, I will openly admit that I am cat person, through and through, so naturally when I see a dog I am inclined to give it a sly kick, casually reminding it and its kind of their place in the grand scheme of things. Bow down to cats, you filthy animals. Anyway, both of these “people” had two bastard devil dogs who had spread themselves so inelegantly in front of their owners feet. At this moment, if I survived this ordeal that was, I knew I was defiantly equipped to handle MI6 training. I took a breath and, with the mission impossible theme tune playing through my head, began to venture to my desired seat. I hadn’t moved but an inch forward when the inpatient twat that was driving the bus slammed the vehicle into motion. You all know that stagecoach isn’t exactly renowned for its smooth journeys (or for turning up on time, if at all) and this voyage was no exception to that rule. The bus shook uncontrollably as I staggered up the isle, each step bringing me closer to the fatties and their pet monsters. Due to the size of the dogs’ and the over flow of their owners bellies, it was near impossible to see a way up the passage , but never the less I went for it. After squeezing past them and only smacking one of them with my laundry bag (accidentally, of course) I found my seat and sat down. I felt like a king on his thrown, what a task that was. Please feel free to share your stagecoach ordeals with me for I’d be more than happy to included them in the epic letter they’re going to receive very soon. (NOTE: safety gear should be worn when attempting to mount a stagecoach bus whilst intoxicated).
Affairs of the heart. Every blog I write seems to feature at least one paragraph with me bitterly ranting about either some guy that has screwed me over or the 5-years-wasted past romance, so why should this one be any different? Answer: No one has, really, screwed me over. I am inclined now to urge everyone to follow some Vulcan philosophy, “Do not let your emotions rule you, Spock”. If you master your emotions then you can control yourself a lot easier. At this moment in time I do sort of like a guy, but as of yet I haven’t told him (but I guess since I am writing about it now he may find out) because I am not sure myself how I feel, so rather than jump the gun and purchase a wedding ring, I am now able, thanks to learning to control myself, to let things play out. I think everyone should try this. Oh, and we should all wear Star Trek uniforms. I’d totally do Seven of Nine. Baby, assimilate me.
Anyway, this concludes my blog for the time being. I’m going to force myself to write one at least once a week from now on. Before I finish though I’d like to ask if everyone would be so kind as to promote my blogs to their friends? I would appreciate it very much.
Topher
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