bookmark_borderI have a revelation!

Apparently, and this MAY come as a shock to some of you… in fact, before I continue perhaps some of you should make sure you are sitting down, even if you already are. So, please could you (yes, you) double check that you can feel your body weight being supported by your arse on something (hopefully) cushioned.

I mean that the seat is cushioned, of course, not that I think you have a fat arse..

In fact perhaps some of you should prepare yourselves by making sure you have a stiff drink ready, purely for medicinal purposes of course.

OK.

All set?

Right.

The revelation is….

Actually perhaps I should mention that this is not a Revelation with a capital R, this is no biblical tale of the coming of the New Earth and whatnot (and apologies to those of faith, my knowledge of the Book is lacking). It is, however, a revelation of the more everyday sort, so perhaps all this hyperbole is overplaying things a little.

But then, I tend to do that, don’t I. Waffle, some would say.

Yes please, with maple syrup…

Ahhh, but I jest, and even I have to admit that it now feels like I’m just stringing you along further in the vain hope that someone, ANYONE, is still reading (hellooooooo ?), rather than reveal what is likely to be recognised as less a revelation and more a rather obvious fact that everyone already knows.

Guess I should get on with it then.

So.

Did you know that you can turn computers off?

*click*

bookmark_borderFinding the balance

No big revelation but life is all about balance and, currently, mine is a bit skewed. This is completely my own fault, having broken one of my own rules, one which I’ve written down and published.

I only work on one site at a time

And I’m not, I’m working on two, not to mention now having three blogs, and a monthly newsletter article to write.

Somehow, in the midst of all that, I’ve got to find some time to get to the gym. Yes, I’ve decided to try the gym, again. But having failed to find the time to read more books, how on earth am I gonna find the time to get to the gym.

I mean apart from all the time I spend playing games on the PlayStation, or generally noodling about online reading articles and blogs, or … sleeping … working … eating??

Part of me lives by the premise that is something is important enough I’ll get off my ass to do something about it. Part of me likes the comfort of what I know, and another part of me is constantly disappointed in myself as I do always want to better myself, and do the right thing and yet even writing this stuff done has me shaking my head at the angsty, whiny teenager that has appeared.

Honestly, you’d think that, at 35 years old, I’d have this shit figured out by now. Apparently not.

bookmark_borderI am the chairman

Everyday I am someone new. Today I am bored. The mundane day to day churn has nothing to alleviate it but it keeps me busy, and we are told that being busy is good so, by definition, today must be good.

But it isn’t. It’s boring and, more than that, it is slow. I look up from my screen and the view is flat and uninspiring. My email lies silent, and the task that stretches before me aren’t exactly engaging (tidying up the layout and styling of lots and lots, like tens of thousands, of paragraphs of text).

I’m bored. Listless. Lacking. Missing. Absent.

But let’s be honest, being bored isn’t really something to complain about, is it?

I have a job, that pays for a house and food and clothes. I’m reasonably well educated and live a comfortable existence. My lot is not a bad one, it is, to all extents and purposes, a good one. I have nothing to complain about, yeah I’ve had a shitty month but that’s past and the future holds much promise.

It’s probably just because I’m tired, staying up too late last night, candle burning, then up early to light a match to the other end of said candle. I know my sleep patterns have an effect on my mood, and too many late nights make Jack a dull boy.

Which prompts the question, who the hell is Jack? The only one I know isn’t even real (but he IS kick ass and never ever needs to pee).

It also prompts other questions, perhaps I need a good blowout. A night on the tiles might just be the answer. Yes, I need to get my thinking cap on and get something organised. Get plans in place and execute! Yes! Be a go-getter, be proactive and positive and make it happen!

But.

You know.

Until then.

BORED!

bookmark_borderLet the nonsense descend

aka, you have been warned.

Random thoughts pepper my day. The would salt it if they knew how but then would lack sufficient bite and leave me parched. Random thoughts hate leaving someone parched so they pepper rather than salt. Simple.

The unfortunate fact is that I don’t like pepper, preferring the prickly build of a chilli than the all-consuming thwack of a pepper. Another unfortunate fact is that I need to watch the amount of salt I consume, given that it raises my blood pressure, and, having cut back a great deal, it’s surprising what an impact it has on ones tastebuds.

Outside it is a glorious day, the morning fog has burnt off and the sky is a lovely powder blue. Not sure why I wrote that.

Since getting a laptop at work my back is noticeably sore, it’s the crouching over to read the screen, need to get a screen stand but not a pressing issue really. It’s a familiar pain, as is the people who sit in the outside lane of a dual carriageway even when they aren’t overtaking anyone.

How much water do you drink a day? I drink a few cups of coffee, a can of diet juice, and a couple of glasses of diluting juice most days.

I once had a daydream that was so lucid it took me some hours to realise it hadn’t actually happened. Yet, like most dreams, I don’t remember the detail, nor even a broad sweep of what it involved, which is a shame. There was a rhythm to it, an incessant drum being beaten, and everything was a similar shade, but beyond that the detail is lost.

bookmark_borderSnip snip

I need a haircut.

It’s starting to look messy, so on Saturday afternoon my niece is coming over to cut my hair. She’s a proper hairdresser and everything so I might get her to style it, colour it, or just put in some highlights, well, maybe lowlights… hmmmm not sure.

Most likely I’ll just ask for a “number 2” round the back and sides, a trim at the front, and a “tidy up” on top. Thankfully she’s also done a course in barbering for which I modelled a couple of times. It was quite interesting getting your hair cut whilst a tutor advises on how to tell the hairline, and how best to get an even finish, quite educational.

Although I did feel sorry for my niece, it’s not like it takes long to cut my hair.

I’m not at all bothered by my receding hairline, in fact I think it may now just be a receded hairline as it hasn’t really changed much in the past few years.

I have a mix of hairlines. My Dad has a bald patch towards the back, whereas my Grandpa (and also my Uncle, his son) was completely bald bar the sides. So I’ve got hair round the back and sides but it’s much thinner on top than my Dad.

Sometimes I do consider just running a razor over my head and getting rid of the whole lot but I’m not sure I’d suit it.

I’m thankful that, at the moment, I don’t have to sit and wait in a barbershop to get a haircut. Generally I end up waiting 20-odd minutes, and 4 minutes after sitting down I’m done!

One time I was even offered a discount as “It didnae take that long…”.

Bloody cheek.

bookmark_borderTattoo

The slow drag of the needle across skin is a primitive sort of pain, one you can relax into, one which ebbs and flows as nerves are uncovered, one you can surf through highs and lows.

My first two tattoos, as I’ve mentioned already, were not borne from any particular event nor as part of a fad or fashion. I got them to challenge perceptions of who I am and, to this day, I still have a fascination with them.

The act of having ink etched into your skin, creating a permanent piece of art is at once terrifying yet utterly intoxicating. It’s hard to explain to people but a worthwhile conversation to have for the reaction you get when you mention them is hugely interesting.

Many people have tattoos for fashion. They don’t necessarily belong to any tribe or group, they have been through no rite of passage, nor are they declaring devotion to a higher power. And that’s fine. I don’t fully understand the reasoning but such is life.

Would I have gotten a tattoo (or two) had it not started to become fashionable? Probably not, but I did consider WHY I was getting one for, let’s be honest, I’m no fashion icon.

Recently I’ve talked of getting a third tattoo. But why?

Well, life continues to change me and as I retain my tendency to question everything I find myself understanding my self more completely than before. Despite the cliche, life really is a journey and every step is teaching me something new. I embrace my own foibles, my own construction more and more, and find myself making excuses for that less and less. I’ve still got a lot of questions but the realisation that I can finally see ME does, I think, require some mark in the sand.

Enter the tattoo.

The word “and” is very powerful, I use it a lot in discussions with other people both as a way to drag out more information, to coax and tempt them into saying something else, and to punctuate any statements. It may sound arrogant or self-servcing, and I don’t always vocalise these thoughts (or indeed the conversations as they are often between me, myself and I), but that word has stood me in good stead these past few years.

I find myself drawn to that position now, the ‘so what?’ and ‘what else?’ of life. I squiggle ampersands in the margins. &

So, I’m thinking something like this:

Once again pondering Tattoo, might have a final choice? Hmmmmm on TwitPic