TRUMP CARD, BITCHES!

As I sat on the bus this morning and had the gentleman beside me shimmy up against my arm for the entire bus journey, I was reminded of a common deficiency in the general population. Now, as I write this, I’m getting a vague sense of de ja vu, in that I may well have mentioned this in another post. But as the condition hasn’t improved, I feel I can let it slide just this once.

The deficiency I speak of? Self-awareness, dammit! That person who stands so close to you at the bus stop that you think you’re about to be hit on. Those people that prattle on during a conversation about the ins and outs of their new bathrobe, or some other ridiculous topic. That individual who just doesn’t realise that the reason I’m leaning away from you as you speak is because you gesticulate so wildly, and speak with such volume, that I am genuinely fearful for my wellbeing and vitality. They all lack self-awareness - they don't know what the hell is going on.

One simply must realise what others see and experience when they come into contact with you. Don’t get me wrong dear readers, I couldn’t give two shakes what other people think of me – I don’t really care if you think it’s ridiculous that I enjoy wearing knee high socks when it’s 8 degrees outside. Still, it is useful information when I see a disparaging look darted at my knees. Because information leads to knowledge, and as the cliché goes, knowledge is power. Though I’d rather say that knowledge is a useful tool to help you trump all those other bitches. But hey, that’s just me…

TIME'S A-WASTING



image credited to http://tinyurl.com/6u6amuc



So, I’m at work, pretending that I’m getting shit done. But to my credit, it’s just after lunch and I had a pretty meaty sandwich with a crunch-corner yoghurt for dessert, so I’m understandably sleepy. Also, when I say “yum”, I can do no more than to understate the matter. But I digress. Sitting here flicking between Facebook and the word document that I’m supposed to be working on, I’m wondering how many hours of my life are genuinely wasted in the pit of inaction.

Now I’m not saying that a person is not entitled to bask in day-dreaming about the moment when their face hits the pillow, and to take a mental break. But I’d be lying if I didn’t confess to looking at the clock in disbelief after toiling away hours with melting my brain on Facebook or twitter or by following various online bread crumbs. And then when I find that I just don’t have enough time in the day to get through my work, plus a blog post, and then a session on refining my CV or professional profile, I can’t help but feel compelled to give myself a good boot in the shin (if that’s even humanly possible.)

If I were to scrape together and stitch up all of the moments and minutes and snatches of time that I’ve wasted by staring out of the window, alone, and used it for something productive, it’s likely that I’d be receiving my Nobel Prize for some great treasure to humanity right now, rather than shooting the breeze in the Thomas Cook HQ. But then again, I’d say blogging for the enjoyment of you fine folks qualifies as a productive pursuit. So I guess I can expect my prize in the mail any day now. Nice.

Jokes aside, I do wonder what I might be if I didn't let quite so many of the precious moments that are alloted to me on this world, slip through my fingers. Can you say 'Superwoman'?

PERFECTION

It was a mate’s birthday celebration yesterday, so we went off and engaged in a bit of a bowl and munch session. All good fun. When it came time to pay the bill, the one waitress assigned to our party of approximately 25 people was understandably a bit flummoxed. So when it came to my turn to pay, I put in a little effort to ease the stress that was surely building up in her temples by complimenting her on her tattoo. It was some elaborate script work on the insides of her wrist, and when I asked her what it said, she reported: “Everything is perfect, all the time.”

Lovely. That was the only reaction I was at first able to verbally express – “Lovely,” was my reply. And after I made a lame joke about it not being so perfect when you’re waiting on 25 people that are all paying separately for a full meal, plus drinks, I paid my part and sent her on her way a little less stressed.

And once she was gone, I was free to ponder the words that she decided to inscribe on her wrists for all the rest of her days. To me, it’s a translation of the clichéd “fate” or “it’s meant to be”, but reworked with a hint of the sweetest, pig-tailed, cherub’s voice. I loved the innocence to it. I imagined a small child uttering the very same view of the world after being fed and tucked in, with a kiss on the forehead for good measure. It seemed to prompt me to stand back and take an objective look at the world - this grand series of action and consequence. The way it has happened simply is. No matter your view on it. Whether the events of your life have been happy or sad, that is the way the pin-ball has dinged the bell and crashed through the flaps. It can’t be changed, so in effect, it’s all as it should be: perfect, some might say.

WATCH THIS SPACE

Mate, it’s a new year. And whether you’re that person that started compiling your list of all the wonderful things that you were going to achieve in the new year in mid-September, or whether this was just a bit of a wake-up call to be a bit more active in the course that your life is taking, we’re all in it together. No matter what opinion you have on it. Now, I just got through a bottle of wine, on my last day of freedom before work takes a firm hold on me until Easter. And it occurred to me that, despite the ridiculous hype that New Years incurs, fundamentally, it is at it its most basic, a great opportunity to do better. I do not agree with putting all of the great things that you wish to achieve on hold until the 1^st of Jan. That, to me, is ridiculous. But it can’t be denied that it is a new start – a new year, which most of the world recognises. And it seems silly to turn my nose up at it.

So instead, I’ll ride the New Years Hype Train. And use it as an extra dose of inspiration to do better with the life that my heavenly parents and the Good Lord have given me. Because, as Tesco says, “Every little helps”.

I’m looking forward to seeing exactly what I can achieve.

Watch this space.