Post XVI

It’s NOT an Issue.

Seriously, why do people focus themselves on trivial matters? Chicken or the egg? Stupid argument. As is the grandfather paradox. You know the one – if you go back in time and kill your grandfather how could you have gone back in time to kill him? Unbelievably, one of the leading theories is something to do with temporal splits and chasms and alternate universes. Stupid people. Logically, if you kill your grandfather you could never have went back in time to kill him in the first place. Why isn’t that the leading theory instead of being like the 10th leading theory? Stupid, stupid, people.

I was at church today. I hate it when people judge me for that. They call me a religious nut. Going to a building to see a dude in a robe preach to me once a week, every week, hardly qualifies me as a ‘religious nut’. In his sermon, he talked about how suffering brings people together. Hmmm. I’m not one to doubt a priest, but I was robbed this week, and I don’t love that guy. I know you’re thinking that’s not what he meant, but he did say all suffering. But this isn’t a theological debate. I mean, I wasn’t standing there shouting – ‘Oh God, wherefore art thou?’ to the sky. But I’ll give you this – that would’ve been hilarious. I mean, the only thing funnier than someone falling over (providing they’re not hurt) is somebody who falls over and gets up with a smile on their face. I’ve seen that. Somebody who always see the happy side of the coin fall over, get up and cheer. I just stared at her and thought, ‘what the hell is wrong with you?’

I keep getting distracted. I was robbed. Not much taken. Some money. My bus fair. I almost had to walk home. Four miles (6 ½ kilometres) away. Jeez. I asked a local for some money so I could get home and he started a tirade against how all young people are pathetic, thieves and thugs, and how none of us deserve anything. I’m sorry, but do I look like a thug? Why am I asking you, for? How do you know what I look like? You don’t want to see me. It’s not a nice image. I’m the type of person who thinks I’m not bad looking, not gorgeous but not hideous, but nobody else thinks that. Am I getting distracted again? Yep. Moving on.

I wasn’t scared. I saw a knife. I can say that nonchalantly because one has to expect that around here. Everyone has a knife. Except me. I’m a little angel. What? Do I not look like an angel? Oh right – you can’t see me. I didn’t think he’d use it. I see many people with them. And a few guns. It’s a lovely town. He didn’t seem a threat. He was more of a pickpocket. He was on a bicycle. That’s not threatening. A drive-by bicycle pickpocket attack. I was on the verge of laughing, which after a picked pocket is a sign of mental illness. Like laughing after falling over. But if everyone did it, it would be a better world. It’d be The Prisoner. I’m trapped. I’m being gassed. Hey! I have an idea. Let’s have a gay old time!

The whole town has a crime problem, but I’m fed up of complaining. It’s like Blade Runner at times. Probably because the guy who directed it was born just outside town. And raised here. And has confessed to using the town as inspiration for the city in the film. You know, the vast majority of people in this town see that fact as something to be proud of. I don’t think that percentage of the 165,000 people here have ever seen that film. That’s not an advertisement. That’s a big warning sign saying ‘stay away’.

I’m fine. It wasn’t a lot of money and he didn’t hurt me. I got home and I’ve gotten on with my life. Same old, same old. Sitting around the home, waiting for a job to show up. It happens a lot, blah, blah, blah. Not my point. What is my point? Oh, I’m losing it. I really need to get out more.

It just so happens that this week such a thing will happen. I’ve actually been admitted into the Saint Mary’s Centre. No, wait – hang on, that makes it sound like I have a mental illness. I’m going to the Saint Mary’s Centre. It’s for retail training. Yes, that is as fun as it sounds. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m scared. No reason to be. It’s just because I’m ridiculously shy. Everything scares us. Even rabbits. Especially rabbits. Man, they’re scary. Furry balls of death. It’ll go wrong. Everything always goes wrong. Just my luck. You’ll find out next week what has gone wrong. I’m such an optimist.

I was struggling to think about how to end this week’s entry. It was quite a difficult decision. I really had to think about it. So much has happened and there’s so much to happen. For the first time in a long ol’ while, something to talk about. I had to really ponder, and ponder like I’ve never pondered before, what to write about. This, that or the other. It was so difficult trying to wrap everything up. Then I realized that I could do a random blab for a few lines leading to the biggest anticlimax since – oh wait, I’m legally obliged not to talk about that. Oops.

Peace out :|:

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