I really did try and write in my blog today, but it's not my fault.
I got entangled within the 1000,000,000 degrees of separation that is the internet, and what started out as a simple search on 'Freedom of Speech' ended up with a google video of a cat playing the piano.
I mean it was okay, y'know for a cat, but its tempo was all over the place.
Showing posts with label Excuses for not posting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Excuses for not posting. Show all posts
Excuse For Not Posting #308
This time it really wasn't my fault.
When trying to post to my blog, several months ago, the furious typing from the fountain of inspiration caused the keyboard to overheat.
In fact it overheated to the point where my fingertips suffered 1st degree burns and had to be bandaged for several weeks. Knowing that nothing was more important than writing in my blog, I then proceeded to try and type with my nose, but in doing so accidently managed to hack into, and forward, documents held within US Goverment Security Servers to a man whose email address was, randomly, j_assange@wikileaks.com.
MB
I'm pretty sure nothing came of it.
Anyway, after months of feeling guilty about the blog I am desperately trying to resurrect it, for my sanity if nothing else.
A little light dusting of the rubbish that I've managed to accumulate in my brain. Aren't you lucky?
A little light dusting of the rubbish that I've managed to accumulate in my brain. Aren't you lucky?
MB
x
Staggering Out From The Black Hole...
So I was going to post a lot earlier, about how I procrastinate about posting, but then I put it off for another day.
The universe, faced with such a closed loop of irony, swallowed me into a black hole, which is where I have been residing for the last few months.
And so that's why I haven't written in a while.
... as excuses go it probably needs some work, but at least it's original.
Anyhoo - when I started this blog, I sort-of promised to myself that I would never use it as a diary, so much as a respository for the slightly/moderately/oh-very-much-so insane musings cluttering up my mind. But unfortunately, I think I'm going to have to break this sort-of rule today.
----------------
I got some bad news earlier this week. It wasn't terrible news. It wasn't tragic.
There's something I've observed about tragedy - with what luckily little contact I've had with it - and that is that sometimes things are SO tragic, so horrific, so awful that your brain can't react. Instead some sort of safety fuse blows, and instead of your brain exploding, as it so logically should, it gets distant, protected by this strange, invisible, yet protective bubble.
Is it a protective mechanism? Or is it what occurs when we reach the boundaries of our brain, where it does not even know how to react?
Does the calculator of our mind - which adds and divides the hand dealt to us - refuse now to answer when '=' is pressed because it does not know the answer, or to stop itself exploding on realising the true nature of everything that is happening to us?
Ugh, my stomach is objecting to so many metaphors attempts.
I agree, Stomach - I will never use the phrase 'the calculator of our mind' again, unless I'm planning to make someone else a bit sick too.
Anyway, I ponder on this because the bad news I had was only that: bad news. Not tragic. Not horrific.
And it has made me so unhappy, and frustrated, and angry...
I wonder if it's because it's not that terrible. - it's simply disappointing.
And my brain - instead of finding the safety fuse - is simply too tired, and yells WHY ME???!!!!??
I am angry. I am really angry.
I think, in many respects, I have had all the trouble and pain I can take, and I think this news is really, really unfair.
I am angry, but not adult, flustery, pretending-to-be-reasonable anger.
I am toddler angry - the kind of anger not tempered by rhyme and reason.
I want to throw a tantrum. I want to throw all my toys out of the pram, and hit God in the eye.
I want someone else to hurt, but since no one else is there to blame, it looks like it's you, God.
Sorry.
Omniscence can't be all fun.
So... what does this all mean, this rambling nonsense?
I don't know.
I just know that something has happened in my life. Not tragic. Not terrible. But for the life of me I can't reason or analyse my way out of it. I don't know how to make it better. I don't know who to talk to, or what to buy myself, or what to tell myself. I suppose time will have to do, which is pretty deflating.
And I suppose, after all of that... that's life.
That's the most profound thing I can come up with.
It's pretty rubbish, so Descartes's in no immediate trouble.
I've got bad news. I'm upset.
It's bad now. But it will get better.
Be thankful it's not worse and be patient for the day when you not only think it, but believe it too.
And I suppose, most importantly, there's no such thing as a 'normal life'. They're all slightly extraordinary.
I don't know if it's true, but it sounds good, which, when you get to it, is a pretty good substitute for the truth.
The universe, faced with such a closed loop of irony, swallowed me into a black hole, which is where I have been residing for the last few months.
And so that's why I haven't written in a while.
... as excuses go it probably needs some work, but at least it's original.
Anyhoo - when I started this blog, I sort-of promised to myself that I would never use it as a diary, so much as a respository for the slightly/moderately/oh-very-much-so insane musings cluttering up my mind. But unfortunately, I think I'm going to have to break this sort-of rule today.
----------------
I got some bad news earlier this week. It wasn't terrible news. It wasn't tragic.
There's something I've observed about tragedy - with what luckily little contact I've had with it - and that is that sometimes things are SO tragic, so horrific, so awful that your brain can't react. Instead some sort of safety fuse blows, and instead of your brain exploding, as it so logically should, it gets distant, protected by this strange, invisible, yet protective bubble.
Is it a protective mechanism? Or is it what occurs when we reach the boundaries of our brain, where it does not even know how to react?
Does the calculator of our mind - which adds and divides the hand dealt to us - refuse now to answer when '=' is pressed because it does not know the answer, or to stop itself exploding on realising the true nature of everything that is happening to us?
Ugh, my stomach is objecting to so many metaphors attempts.
I agree, Stomach - I will never use the phrase 'the calculator of our mind' again, unless I'm planning to make someone else a bit sick too.
Anyway, I ponder on this because the bad news I had was only that: bad news. Not tragic. Not horrific.
And it has made me so unhappy, and frustrated, and angry...
I wonder if it's because it's not that terrible. - it's simply disappointing.
And my brain - instead of finding the safety fuse - is simply too tired, and yells WHY ME???!!!!??
I am angry. I am really angry.
I think, in many respects, I have had all the trouble and pain I can take, and I think this news is really, really unfair.
I am angry, but not adult, flustery, pretending-to-be-reasonable anger.
I am toddler angry - the kind of anger not tempered by rhyme and reason.
I want to throw a tantrum. I want to throw all my toys out of the pram, and hit God in the eye.
I want someone else to hurt, but since no one else is there to blame, it looks like it's you, God.
Sorry.
Omniscence can't be all fun.
So... what does this all mean, this rambling nonsense?
I don't know.
I just know that something has happened in my life. Not tragic. Not terrible. But for the life of me I can't reason or analyse my way out of it. I don't know how to make it better. I don't know who to talk to, or what to buy myself, or what to tell myself. I suppose time will have to do, which is pretty deflating.
And I suppose, after all of that... that's life.
That's the most profound thing I can come up with.
It's pretty rubbish, so Descartes's in no immediate trouble.
I've got bad news. I'm upset.
It's bad now. But it will get better.
Be thankful it's not worse and be patient for the day when you not only think it, but believe it too.
And I suppose, most importantly, there's no such thing as a 'normal life'. They're all slightly extraordinary.
I don't know if it's true, but it sounds good, which, when you get to it, is a pretty good substitute for the truth.
Subscribe to:
Posts
(
Atom
)