Tuesday, 7 January 2014

On Time & Being Myself, Again

Down the road I had a some thoughts but now they've gone...

How many thoughts have we had?

A rough reproduction of thoughts I had sat outside the café this morning:

'This time of year a lot of us think about how we'll spend the amount of days we call a year. Free-thinkers can mock the division of time into neat categories according to sunset and sunrise, how many times it happens, the names we give the blocks of time such as Month and Year etc. Some would claim to snub the concept, thinking themselves free of restrictions adhered to by the common masses. These people don't have jobs, presumably. They used to be called Beatniks, probably. And I've never met one. They may be a figment of my imagination.

I like time division. It helps. Otherwise, I'm in free fall...and out of a job. Plus, if nobody marked time precisely, how would I know when the next series of Gogglebox starts? How would programmers run TV stations? Could there be TV without time demarcation? No. That would be a good thing, possibly. I might get more done, but Doing Things isn't always good. Doing Things tires you out, whether that's painting the ceiling or making Art. I need, we all need, to veg out. Don't we? Clever people do so by reading books, not watching TV, so I hear. That or they definitely do not waste time on the internet watching so many YouTube videos that they inevitably end up looking at pets doing crazy things, or The Worst Plane Crashes Ever.'

Who do you want to be this year? Where do you want to be in a year's time? Ideals spring to mind...but they're often imitations of somebody else's ideal. A successful Artist, writer, musician, poet, baker, lover, accountant, whatever. Actually, as you know, vocational ideals aren't so hard to make real. You just need the right kind of mind and a willingness to work hard, study etc. In theory. I wouldn't know from experience, never having seriously studied anything except record sleeves.

I'm thinking of more creative fantasy achievements, really. You know, you see someone who's 'made it' and you think 'God, they're so lucky...I'd love to be them'. Perhaps it's only a fleeting thought before you return to reality, get positive and tell yourself:
                                                     'Yeah, but I bet they can't make gravy as good as mine...and they probably don't have a life partner, or if they do, they'll break up...or perhaps they'll get a fatal disease and die before they get old...or have a car crash...and they'll definitely be hated by more than one person saying so in a Comments section online and that will never happen to me whilst I remain unknown!'

Suffering from low self-esteem and subsequent lack of confidence from being born a lowly prole in the least ambitious/creative family on earth I sometimes dream of being someone else. Someone smarter, more talented, handsome, rich. Then I tell myself to wise-up. One self is always telling the other to stop being stupid, thankfully. Without it, anything could happen. The divided self...do airline pilots ever think, for a second, 'Christ, I'm not sure about this landing thing!' Unlikely.



  1. A trip through your wandering/wondering mind is not totally unlike a trip through mine sometimes! Where did your creativity come from... a rogue gene or an artistic great-great-grandmother who was unable to fulfil it due to the restrictions of her era/class perhaps...? I often wonder about this kind of thing and find the whole nature vs nurture subject fascinating. In fact thinking about it is inspiring a blog post (thank you), which I'll get around to writing..... once I can liberate myself from the restrictions of time demarcation which bind me today... So must get back to my work now, which, being creative, is currently filling me with self-doubt and huge frustration at my inabilities, but at least I won't crash a 'plane!
    (The song is my cup of tea!)

    1. I've no idea, C. It's something I've often pondered. Without having done a deep lineage check, as far as I know there aren't any artists or writers on the 'tree'. Guess I was grafted on by that Great Gardener In The Sky...heh-heh...


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