Post XXII

Comedy Is Acting Out Optimism.

Call centres are funny places. I know of someone who works in one. He deals with accidents and fatalities in places of work, you know like in schools or care homes. So here’s the deal: you ring up, you give information about what’s happened and a form is filled in and sent to a central agency. One of the very first things one says to the caller is ‘was there a fatality?’ On one day, the response was slightly disconcerting: ‘Not yet’. I swear to you, that is 100% true and of no relevance to anything other than my own amusement. Hilarious.

So what’s been happening with me? A bit. Sprinkles here and there. I think the word ‘sprinkles’ is the correct adjective. I’m not sure. I’m not good with words. Or numbers. Or people. Or anything, come to think of it. You would think authors are good with words but I don’t think many of them are. When you really think about what they’re writing, it truly makes no sense. ‘A yellow brick road, you say?’ Some see it as a great work of fiction; I see it as a metaphor for Baum’s decent into acid addiction. I think the Wizard of Oz is his dealer. And that, my lovelies, is how to destroy children’s dreams.

I think I over think. I think that made sense. As an author and a photographer, I don’t think I can switch off. It bleeds into my everyday life. I pause the television after I hear a word I’m not familiar with to look it up. I think if I ever get a girlfriend, she’d be really pissed off with me a lot when we’re watching movies. Just seeing words on signs and on shop fronts in all there magnificent typography and multitude of colours makes one appreciate the ability to be engrossed by the simple pleasures of language and the visual canvasses of our urban surroundings. Everything I look at is a composition. Every sight a perfect photo. I think it’s a benefit of being quiet and introspective. There are many – I think it’s one. You notice things. You pay more attention to the world. To the little things that make it so beautiful and so conflicted. Yes, while the extroverts are clubbing in clubs and frolicking in said toilets, we are outside staring at a leaf. I think that gives us character. I think that gives us heart.

I don’t think it makes us intellectual. I think everyone is equal and inequality is created through negative desires. People used to say to me ‘why not come out drinking with us, it’s really fun’, and I just thought ‘why?’ That’s not fun for me. Reading a book is more fun for me. Everyone’s different. Just because staring at that leaf or reading that book is considered nerdy or boring or a pleasure of the elderly doesn’t mean it is. I think I’ve struggled so much to stand up and be proud of what I am, even though it is far from perfect and I’m far from happy about it, that I’ve created a world for myself that I am happy with but that is under attack from my own emotions.

I think everyone has something about themselves they aren’t happy about. For many, there’s a list, and yes, we shouldn’t let it bother us but we do let it bother us. It’s one of these funny negativities that kind of make us human in a weird sort of way. For me, I think I’m scared far too easily. I left my fourth year of college a year ago and I never go out or talk to anyone except at the job centre (who are useless). I wanted that detachment all my life and now I’m scared of it.

I had to attend a work program this week, which turned out to be filling out paperwork. Great job, Cameron. Really  doing us proud. But I was terrified. I believe that negative emotion creates it but it’s hard not to be negative. ‘What if the bus is late?’ ‘Which stop do I get off at?’ ‘Where are the Co-Operative Buildings?’ ‘Which floor?’ ‘What’s going to happen?’ ‘What if something goes wrong?’ I mean, I did everything I could to ignore these feelings. But, try as I might, hypnotherapy didn’t work. I was fine. Everything went well and I have another appointment tomorrow. I might be in work by next week. And I’ll panic again. It’s the circle of life. I suppose. I don’t actually know what that means.

I try to find answers all the time. Through any means possible. Life presents itself as black and white. If I sought for help, I’d be labelled as God knows what, so that’s why I probably turn to the occult. Hypnotherapy has never worked. I don’t even know why I’m trying different things. I shouldn’t be trying anything. I’m just desperate to alleviate the stress I bring on myself.

As I said, I think I over think. I think I over think so much that I think I haven’t got a message to end on, but I think I said that last week and I believe I came up with one. I think we all need to do is to face up to our fears. I walked into The Co-Operative Buildings this week with my chin held up high and my heart in my socks and it was fine. I think in being shy, it is easy to forget about optimism but I’ve discovered this week a wonderful world of optimism through a community I’d never thought I’d encounter. And I feel great.

I think.

Peace Out :|:

(If you want to read more, even though this is a weekly blog, there are countless other entries on here you could go through. Please be sure to tell people if you enjoyed this and please ‘Digg’ the best posts. Thanks).

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