Time is running out

Frankly, if I’d owned a blimp or some sort of rocket ship, I’d be running too. Out, up and beyond. Over the hills and far away will no longer suffice, mark my words. Like a phallic metallic turd, I’d be blasting into space at full throttle. The hills are of little use to me now, for they are dead, with the sound of silence. Where did all the good people go? What happened with wanting to heal the world, make it a better place? What becomes of the broken-hearted?!

So many questions, so little time… So many links, to the songs mentioned above, in the titles. The clock tickens, as nine year old me might have said, having no clue as to how or why one would ‘thicken’ a plot. I like my version better, so the clock tickens it is.

The alarm clock in the photo is the loudest thing in the world. In fact, it likely raises the dead, but I live too close to the graveyard to dare have a peek through the curtains just after the alarm’s gone off. It really is everything louder than everything else. Motörhead.

You might be wondering by now, if these are the ramblings of a woman gone completely bonkers. That my brain has become the dish that ran away with the spoon. (Mystery link!) I don’t know what to tell you – it’s just one of those days where I found myself shouting at my phone to ‘shut the fuck up’ over and over until it stopped ringing, rather than just hanging up. Surely, that happens to all of us, right?

If I’m the only one, please, feel free to have a chuckle on my behalf. I’m sure it looked and sounded pretty funny to the recently undead that were kicking about in the garden at the time. (Alarm clock, remember?). The thing is, it’s just stress. And the more stressed I get, the foggier my brain. I woke up mid-vomit this morning, terrified of having overslept. All I can say is, thank fuck no one’s here to witness it all.

What can possible be so stressful that it makes me throw up in my sleep, you might ask? Life, my friend. Life is stressful. And, had I just dealt with the one thing that kept getting in the way of everything else when I first noticed the pattern, I may have been able to avert the chaos. Instead, I left it to fester, and now even the slightest inconvenience (accidentally placing the loo roll the wrong way around, anyone?) will throw me off my already weakened game. Which brings us back to time.

Time wasted on avoiding the menial tasks on my to-do list by starting new projects. Time wasted on negative self-talk due to having begun said projects. Time wasted on being annoyed with shit that’s beyond my control. Who wants to control everything anyway? Because, ultimately, attempting to control something or someone is a futile gesture indeed. The only thing you can control is your own perspective, if that. But my perspective is bound to be tinted by my past experiences, my situation or my expectations. What caused me to view X as Y, et cetera. There’s no control.

If you want to get into the metaphysics of causation, you can head over to the Stanford University Philosophy Encyclopaedia and have a gander.

People are so hung up on who’s to blame for something, but they’d rather spend time discussing the big, horrible thing than actually doing something about it. Because, if the scapegoat goes away… how will they know for certain that they wouldn’t get the blame themselves the next time?

And I’m now wasting precious time thinking about what I want to write about next week. All I can tell you is that it’ll likely be a little more structured than this. But certainly not rant free! You’ve been warned.

Pending finally being able to manage the 15(!) remaining pages of the book that’s been eating away at my sanity since mid-November, I shall see you next Tuesday!

Until then, buy my book, or perhaps give me a shout via the contact form. Like Arnold used to say in his Pump Club podcast: “I want to hear from you”.