5. Rather not should

Its 3.46 on a Sunday afternoon and I found torn between doing what I should, and what I rather do.

The should part refers to a tax provision memorandum (i.e. work) that needs to be done by start of business tomorrow.

The rather do part refers to pretty much anything else.

So what to do. What to do.

4. Six words

Sunday's newspaper had a little article about Hemingway's six word short story ("For sale: baby shoes, never worn."), and it got me thinking about the beauty and emotion of the english language. How those simple six words can draw out so much feelings of regret, and sadness.

It reminds me that the written word is powerful. Its a tool that I should harness.

Flicking through fffound for inspiration for a tattoo (something that my mind has fixed on in recent days) and I came across the quote, "Be fearful of mediocrity". Suffice to say, it struck a chord, a raw nerve in my heart.

What am I fearful of? Wasted potential of my life? Experiences and events that have not come to pass?

Lets not be fearful.

Listening to triple j's like a version volume 5; Philadelphia Grand Jury's cover of 99 Oroblems b. Its almost six word short story like; "I have 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one"

I can understand the sentiment on a pure intellectual viewpoint, but goddamit, its a problem that I wouldn't mind.

So six word short story; lets brainstorm.

"Rainy morning, unsatisfying job, slept in"

"To call or not, demonstrating weakness"

3. Sleep

Sleep is for getting healthy.

I know this for a fact as I have slept the following since Sunday night;

Monday 0100 - 1300 - 12 hours

Monday 1430 - 17.30 -3 hours

Monday 1900 - 1000 - 15 hours

Thats 30 hours of sleep,

And I'm feeling much much better for it.

Not prettier though.

2. The word turns on a L

Taxi drivers always ask what I do for a living, and I always want to lie.

Admittedly its often late on a workday and I"m wearing a business suit, often crumpled. So my range of lies is somewhat curtailed in a smaller range.

'Undercover spy' would be unrealistic I suppose. Although that being said, how many honest to god undercover spies would actually admit to being one to a taxi driver? Not a lot. Well at least the competent ones wouldn't, and the last thing you want to be is an incompetent spy.

So that leaves me to "office worker". "Yes", I say, "I work in an office. In my business suit as thus, and with my business hat as thus, and my business'y air of confidence". "I am mr business making a living".

Lies are prettier when they involve rabbits.

1. Hajimette

Hajimette?

My Japanese isn't what it used to be.

A lot of things aren't what they used to be.

So its time for a change.

Post number one. Day dot. One post a day; rain, hail or shine.

Let's bring back the fun.

I see your pointless rambling and raise you a soul searching poem about love...

...would be a wonderful heading if, in fact, I had taken the time to compose a soul searching poem of love.

Unfortunately, I could not think of any word that rhymed with "boobies".

It is now 3 minutes past midnight on a Tuesday. Or to be accurate, it is already Wednesday. Twas the Easter break last weekend so I have the pleasure of a four day working week, which on the one hand sounds absolutely wonderful until I do something silly like accept at 9.15am meeting for Wednesday to go over work thinking it was Monday so I could do the work on the Tuesday.

That sentence may not make sense but the takeaway is that I have to go into work early tomorrow and do enough work to pretend that I know what I'm talking about.

Just like always, bluffing my way through life.

Sooner or later someone will call me out, right?

Kung fu rabbits would have too much muscle

"Do you like rabbits?"
"Why yes, its strange that you mention that, I was talking about rabbit stew just yesterday to an acquaintance of mine"
"Oh, I meant pet rabbits"
"Oh."

So yes, I am the king of the social faux pas. Faux pas is a word that I always associate with 'kung fu' in some weird word comparative way. I don't know as much kung fu as my appearance generally lets on to narrow minded racist people.

Unsettling behaviour

In what is a damming picture of my current psyche, I am currently feeling upset that I am unable to do a tax provision review tonight because I accidentally brought back the wrong working file from my desk.

So yes, to answer your question, I'm doing well thanks.

Pointless rambling on a Friday afternoon

My french isn't what it used to be. "Bonjour", I would say sometimes to people who didn't understand me.

Many people don't understand me. Hell, I don't understand me on most occasions. But thats just the brilliance of life I guess, there is no explanation on why people are like they are, they just are.

I'm sitting at my dining table surrounding by notes and texts on subjects that I derive no enjoyment at all. My only emotional response is the fear that I feel that I have to know it enough to be able to fluff my way through the exam. Surely there should be more to that.

My skills in life, besides my ability to say hello in french to complete random strangers, appear to focus around studying and undertaking exams. Not much of a skill I grant you, but its a skill nonetheless. Its the trying to transpose this empty skill to a meaningful career that is alluding me at this moment of my life.

I would like to play piano. Or be able to write screenplays that people would pay to watch. Or be able to indeed juggle.

In any case, its a four o'clock on a Friday afternoon. I might get off my arse and go some vacuuming followed by a small jog then head into the city for dinner with my workmates. Then I've been told that there is football to watch on television, so I suppose that that would work.

Au revoir

Forty-nine

The little battery on the top right hand corner of my screen is red. Forty-seven minutes of life remaining, whether or not that changes as I type will be interesting.

Forty-nine now.

That just doesn't make sense.

Fictional Dates

Going to the movies alone has always been the epitome of loneliness, he thought. Sitting alone on the couch in the privacy of your own home wasn't as bad just because the loneliness was yours alone, unseen to others. Going out to the cinemas by himself just seemed to confirm it to the outside world.

All fine in practice, he knew, but when you run out of shows to watch at home, going outside ends up being your only course of action.

So thats how he ended up in line at the local cinema. It was a Tuesday, with the clear view of hindsight he knew he should have waited a day at least, Tuesdays in the nothing week between Christmas and New Years was always going to be busy at the cinemas. Nonetheless, he was there, in a line that snaked through the shopping mall, a line that was too long for a sane man to join.

It should be all fine for now, he thought, everyone else in line would just assume that he was getting tickets for friends. How does one create that illusion, he wondered, should he be periodically checking of the mobile phone for that phantom call, how about a permanent look of annoyance at that fictional friend who was always running late. That friend could even be a female, yes, yes, its a fictional person anyway, lets make it a fictional date.

Fictional dates.

Fictional dates always went smoother in his mind than actual dates. The beauty of a fictional date was that it was all in his control, from the locations, the weather, the woman, her reactions. Sometimes in the stillness of the night he would wonder if these fictional dates had destroyed any real chance he had with anyone whom he could not control.