Was helping out with a few shifts in a wee local bar in the west end of Edinburgh last night. As it was really slow most of the night I mainly spent the evening failing to read some important documents I had brought with me. Instead I ended up thinking. Not always a good thing.
Some of the topics me and my brain have tried to sort out:
- Why is it that as soon as I want to write a short story, I end up with heaps of texts about my own private thoughts and issues? Have I perhaps got a need to share? Or am I just one of those wanky sort of people who think their own views are superior and therefore deserve their own space? Or is it just procrastination?
- Why does my awesome low-carb / high-fat foods give me such horrid breadth?
- Why do my feelings about
work, friendship, lovelife have such a roller-coaster behaviour, switching at an alarming speed between utter despair and extreme happiness?
- Does it make me a horrible person that I am less interested in the crisis in Syria than figuring out when the new Sherlock series starts, when browsing the BBC web page?
- Why am I the only one who openly wants gadgets mainly because of the way they look rather than their specs? I mean come on! No one wants to use things that are ugly! The beauty/feel/athmosphere component is so important!
There. A scraping off the top of the vat of guey, slimy, nonsensical things that has been brewing away in my mind.
|Deep in thought|
// Tee -- Has just realised that she might be a shallow, bipolar procrastinator with a need to voice useless opinions through a bad smelling mouth. Bloody great.