“Three Stages Of Tiredness – Grumpy, Depressed And Then Weird”.
I like buses. That’s single-handedly the greatest line in the world to start a post with if you want to lose most of your visitors. Regarding busses, here in the UK, you can have a weekly ticket but, for some reason, they’re called ‘weekly trippers’. That just sounds like the driver is offering me some drugs. That would scandalous if that’s what the driver meant for one very simple reason – the weekly trippers cost £15 and there’s no way I’m paying that much for drugs. Only kidding, kids. Drugs are bad. Really, really bad. Stay in school. I mean, I didn’t and I failed everything and look where I ended up – getting a national diploma with an F in almost every subject I undertook prior. Do you want that? Really? Yeah, it is pretty sweet. You probably do. I never got the ‘stay in school’ malarkey. There’s no reason a drug fuelled life cannot involve education. They should incorporate it into the curriculum. ‘Tony buys £10 worth of cocaine. He can only afford to give the dealer £5. He suffers some side effects that result in the loss of some hair and one testicle. He goes back to the dealer to get a refund. How many caps does Tony get in his arse?” Ah, education. That takes me back.
I got my first ‘like’ this week. On my blog. I don’t know if that person is reading right now, but thank you. I could have worked out how to respond another way (I’m terrible with technology), but everyone’s first is special. Their first ‘blog like’, of course. I can’t remember my other first. Probably because I don’t have that memory, yet, of that hooker I picked up five years from now after I won £20 on the lottery and accidently ended up giving her sexually transmitted porcupine flu. So thanks to that person, I really enjoy reading your blog and thanks for reading mine. Personally, I don’t care for it very much, but then again, I’m only doing this to taste this ‘love’ I’ve heard so much about. I’ve heard it tastes like Bounty’s. Mmm – product placement. Give me some free Bounty’s, Mars. But no Mars Bars. They’re terrible. Truly, Mars Bars are Satan’s wang.
That ‘like’ meant a lot. I never thought I’d get one. Now I just need a comment. Something nice. No, you know what, that’s inviting negative criticism. This post was meant to be about my training. It’s going really swell, but I imagine that won’t interest you. But nout else interesting happened to me this week (other than the ‘like’ and that alien I accidentally killed), so I’ll forge on.
I’m very tired. You can tell I’m tired. I don’t sound rational. I don’t on the best of days, to be fair, but I especially don’t sound rational today. There is that moment of tiredness when you feel gone, but if you stick with it there comes a point when everything is like a magical dream. I’d imagine this is what it’s like being high. It’s nonstop paperwork that’s doing it. I get home at 2 in the afternoon, spend five hours working, then collapse in a heap on my assortment of boxes I’m using as a bed.
Everyone else is used to tiredness. I see people coming out of work and they’re fine. I once did three weeks of 9 to 5 in college (as so often is the way in the UK) and that damn nearly killed me. I am worried. I should be able to cope with the tiredness like everyone else but I can’t. I do have low blood sugar, but even diabetic people aren’t as tired as I. Stress? I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. Well, not a qualified doctor. I mean, I once gave a Taiwanese transvestite small person a prostate exam, but that’s another story.
I’m not massively enjoying the course. Right now, everything is ‘for a reason’. I feel like I have no choice. I have to do the course. I’m then being forced into work in a job I really don’t want to do. I suppose when one is missing vital elements of an ordinary life stress takes hold. I can’t unwind. I know how people function normally. A hard day’s graft and then off home to see their friends and family to enjoy and savour every second of life before they have to return to the man. I don’t have anyone, really. Two brothers I never see and a mum and dad I hardly relate to. And the rest? Just memories on a wall of the long dead. I can’t make friends. Even at the training when you’re fighting your shyness to contribute you can see them smirking at each other making you feel like crap. Everyone in the world is like that. Not one difference. And because of that, I need a job. A stable job and a stable home where I can grow old and alone, doing the same old things that affects me but no one else. And then moan on a blog every week. I’m very tired. That’s my point. I’ll shut up complaining now.
This post goes on out Saturday rather than the usual Sunday. Sunday is an anniversary of something I’d rather not talk about because it’s just too sad; a day I’d rather not post on out of respect because this blog is remarkably stupid. Stupidity on this Sunday doesn’t fit.
Mum and dad are away this week. This post is obviously full of anger and hate and self-loathing and I could go on but I won’t, and it’s almost certain next week will be even more hate filled. Full time (9 to 5) and I have a house to look after. How do people do this every day?
“I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times a little hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best” – Marilyn Monroe. Ah, I miss your wisdom, Marilyn. I wonder if she would know if fate came before coincidence.
Peace out :|: