Random Rambles

Here we are. Sunday. September. Raining. I sit looking out the window, watching the water fall down. It’s like looking at a painting as someone pours water down the front of it, the colours run, mixing. It’s almost exciting, watching a painting swirl out of it’s original form. The blues of the ocean interlace with the oranges of the sky at dusk, the greens with the pinks. The reds, accentuating the hot sky as the sun disappears below the horizon slowly drip into the white of the waves. Like Blood. As if someone had pricked their finger and let it drip. A clap of thunder breaks me out of my fantasy. I have once again let my mind run away with me. Sometimes its easier to deal with reality if I romanticize it.

As usual I’m sat here, at the computer trying to come up with something insightful, exciting to write. Once again my brain has failed me. It’s like when you’re in your final year of school, sitting in your final exam and every last bit of knowledge goes flying out of your brain as if it were a greedy seagull that has just eyed some unsuspecting fool with a bag of hot chips. It’s frustrating. My fingertips are itching to type. But what? I could go into the details of my somewhat humdrum life; you know, the usual stuff… My demented family. My friends I love. My friends that are grating on my nerves. My Fuckwitts (boys). My work. But none of that seems interesting enough. Who wants to read that? Do I even want to type it? No. I don’t think so.

So back to the scene existing outside of my window and my world of a keyboard and a screen with nothing but rambling looking back at me. Yup. Still raining. Oh the Shit, shock horror! Should it be surprising that it’s still raining? Been going on for about a week now. At first it’s exciting, almost electrifying, a sudden change to the weather in a country that has been in drought for the best part of 2 years. But soon enough, as with most things in life, it becomes boring. You cant go anywhere or do anything in fear of the rain. You have to plan around it. All I want to do is lie in the sun. Summer’s coming soon I need to look good.

Back to the matter at hand. What will I write about? I’ve already crossed off pretty much every aspect of my life. I look around me in a desperate bid to find inspiration. My dad is sat at the TV absent mindedly flicking through channels until he finds something that stimulates his brain long enough for him to pass the time. It reminds me of life. Him sitting there searching for something better to watch. The best. People Search their whole lives to find something better. Better than what? Better than what they already have? Or better than what they don’t already have? He soon decides on M.A.S.H reruns. The deaf defying theme tune is enough to turn my attention back to my aim at this point in time. Writing something meaningful.

You know what? I like writing. Pretty funny for someone who can’t actually write isn’t it? I once wanted to write for a magazine, a newspaper, anything. It’s a creative outlet. The only one I have considering I’m no Whitney Houston, no Nicole Kidman. A part of me still wants to, write that is. But how? Mediocre exam results, a brain that malfunctions on a regular basis, absolutely no idea of how to go about it. Not exactly going in my favor is it? Is a thirst for something enough? Speaking of thirst… Break time.

Eh. It’s Sunday. There’s nothing in the cupboard to eat, nothing in the fridge to drink. I hate Sundays. It’s the day before Mum goes shopping. By Friday we are practically living off of the stuff no one wants. You know… the Barbeque flavor chips that never seem to shrink in numbers, the canned fruit because there’s no fresh fruit, and naturally, because my brother guzzles down soft drink by the gallon, water from the tap. I settled for some water crackers and cheese (not bad) and a chocolate milkshake (I like flavored things). Ideally, I could have gone for some French fries and a big glass of coke (premature death anyone?) but ill take what I get, there are many more in this world less fortunate than me.

I told him to tell them I wasn’t home! I tell you what. That kid is either deaf, ignorant or unable to speak the English language. Considering I have lived with him for the expansion of his life, 13 years I’ll go for option number 2. Ignorant. My little brother. “Jamie” I said as the phone rang “If that’s work” I continued in my hurried tone, trying to beat him to picking up the phone “If that’s work… Im not home ok?”
“Ok” he replied as he picked up the receiver. “Hello?” silence. “Yeah, I’ll just get her”. He takes the phone away from his ear, looking at me as he does so. “Work” he mouths as he hands it to me. I resist the urge to smack him in the face. I’ll deal with him later. Panic kicks in as a snatch the phone. Should I sound sick? Busy? Tired? Uninterested?
“Hello”
“Hi, it’s Glenn can you work midnight till 6 tonight”
‘Fuck off’ I think
“Uh no. Sorry. I have to get up early in the morning”
“Ok no problem. Bye” He hangs up. I go after Jamie.

Back at the computer again. Four hours later. The nerve! Calling me up for a midnight start. Im still fuming. Mostly now, because I just had a fight that is bound to start world war 3, with my mum. You see, when I got off the phone to work; I hunted Jamie out like a hound. He was the cat to my dog, the fly to my spider, the fox to my hound. I found him playing Xbox in his room. I, being the levelheaded human being that I am went in there and ripped the controller from the console. He started, I started and then Mum started. Soon Jamie dropped out, becoming almost nonexistent. It ended with a rant about my attitude problems, which consequently ended with a “fuck off” from me. My dad hates swearing. He does it. But he hates it coming from me. “Ill kick your arse if I hear you swear one more time today” is the usual threat. Today was no different. Aside from the fact that I had no threat, no warning. He just pounced. Like that scene in The Lion King where Mufassa is trying to teach a somewhat eager Simba to pounce. I was defenseless. I got a firm hand to the thigh and told to keep away from the computer for the rest of the night. I storm into my room. Watch TV and await the bedtime of my soon to be 50 year old father.

Nine forty five pm and still nothing. This writing lark is most likely not for me. Sadly. I can’t even write a blog without causing international incidents. I get distracted easily. I am currently, while writing a fine specimen of a blog, essay, mess (whatever you want to call it), trying to upload songs from my computer to my mp3. To do that I need to rip some songs from a CD. As usual something has gone wrong and I cant open the disk drive to put the CD in. Another plan, made by me gone haywire.

Im beginning to think that maybe something gets in the way of everything and everyone at some stage. I think this thought is right. I think it’s these things that stand in our way, test our patience, and irritate the hell out of us that help us to become better people. To shape our existence. I mean, here I am finally surrendering to the fact that I am not going to write the best, most planned out, most organized piece of writing and trying to match a decent conclusion to it, and my brain has, once again decided to become momentarily retarded and won’t let me function properly to go out with the bang I never came in with. I guess that’s just the way it goes. For all I know, tomorrow could be the single most exciting day of my life, everything could go right and it could be sunny. But for now. Ill settle for the rain and the images it creates in my mind as I stare out the window at it.

Once again something goes wrong. It has taken me that long to think of something to write about that it is dark outside. I can’t see the rain. But I can hear it. It’s thumping down. It sounds like you are in a tin box and someone is standing there rattling it constantly, at different consistencies. Fast, slow, fast, slow, slow, slow, fast, hard, soft, hard, hard, hard. The mind of an erratic thinker. What a place to be. I get sidetracked so easily. I still never established a topic to write about.