Here’s the story of a man-cold, Inception and Tiddles.
I’ve never liked the phrase ‘whatever floats your boat’. Boats, by definition, are vessels that float on the water. It’s a self-referential argument. It is water that’s floating my boating but boats can only float on water so what floats my boat can only be water. It should be ‘whatever keeps your boat afloat’, meaning you need to do all you can to keep your boat afloat. But think about it. If you’re in a boat that isn’t floating, why did you get in the boat in the first place? Oh sure, the boat may have hit an iceberg, but surely the logical thing to do is to get into a lifeboat or, at the very least, jump overboard. In fact, the original meaning of the phrase is, quite literally, ridiculous. It means, ‘Do what makes you happy’. Oh, that’s nice. Oh, yes. No qualms with that at all, is there? But what if murdering people makes you happy? Then we’ll have to extend the new phrase to incorporate a new condition, ‘Do what makes you happy providing it’s legal’. And that’s even murkier territory. Are we telling people what they can and cannot do? I mean, this is an issue of freewill. “Why obey the law? Sucks to the law! We are all our own people, why should we be told what to do?” What’s the point of all this, I hear you ask. The point is that ‘whatever floats your boat’ is the stupidest phrase in history. And that today marks the 100th time I’ve completely wasted your evening.
I haven’t been well. Probably why this post will sound like the last will and testament of a dying man. With my parents away and nobody for company, I’ve felt a bit lonely this week. Coughing in a quiet house, sniffing in a quiet house, itchy in a quiet house. I always thought this is how I would go. Maybe I am dying. I considered buying a hamster to keep me from going insane. Some would argue it’s already too late. And that a young 20-something buying a hamster for company is incredibly pathetic. Don’t listen to the detractors, Tiddles. It’s what I called my hamster. I couldn’t afford one so I made one up. Somewhat imaginary. What was I talking about? Ah yes, trying not to go insane. I think I’m doing well.
I had a dream I was pregnant this week. Not as a man, as a woman. I don’t believe in sleep analysis for this exact reason. It was a vague dream, at best. I remember waking up not feeling very well at the moment I went into labour. I haven’t been right since. Perhaps it’s similar to couvade syndrome, colloquially known as sympathy pregnancy. I don’t know what happens next, though. Perhaps Tiddles is the metaphorical representation of my daughter. Which is confusing, because Tiddles is a dude. Am I going crazy? Because I can assure you this is only the tip of the Inception iceberg.
I walked into an electronic door this week, too. You know the kind, the automatic ones with the black box at the top. Either side were manual doors. I know all doors are manual but bear with me. Because we now live in a world where we have to say these sorts of things. We now have to say regular mail to distinguish it from electronic mail. It’s ridiculous we can’t think of a new word for automatic doors meaning we have to refer to normal doors as manual doors. It’s ridiculous. What about Mechanical Gateway Contraption?
Here’s what happened: there was a lovely elderly woman in front of me and she walked toward the mechanical gateway contraption. It opened. Seconds later, I arrived at the same scene. But the doors didn’t open. Why, I wondered. Well, they were old, so fair enough. I went through one of the old timey doors instead. Halfway through, I looked behind and somebody mere seconds behind me went through the mechanical gateway contraption just fine. It opened for him. Not for me. What the heck happened?
I spent the remainder of my walk home wondering if I have a soul. And rubbing my nose because it was really sore. And by the time I arrived home, my milk was warm because it was hot on Wednesday. And my hay fever was acting up. And I had my cold. And my hamster had gone missing. Probably. There’s no way to know, really. Miserable Wednesday.
It’s good to see so much has changed in my life in the last 100 weeks. No wait, nothing at all has changed. I’m reading my first post 100 posts ago right now. Let’s assess it. Still don’t have a job. Still never had a girlfriend. Still don’t drink. Still don’t do drugs. Still don’t have a cellular phone. And still not fond of technology. I referred to myself as a walking disaster. Well, some things are truer now than ever before. I’m a walking catastrophe now.
I know you don’t like self-referential posts, but it is my 100th. I thought all those posts ago this was gonna be a failure. That’s what I said in that first post. Nobody is gonna read this. I’m gonna achieve nothing. And I was so wrong. I know I don’t have a million followers and a million hits a day, but I don’t care. I couldn’t be any happier with how the cards have fallen. I’m a happier person now. It sounds stupid, but this blog is a part of that. Thank you.
Yes, I’ve had a strange week. A miserable week. A confusing week. But I’m still standing. Just. I mean, I’m pretty confident that if my cold carries on in this vein I’ll be dead by next week, but until then, I’m still standing. Well, sitting. Well, lying down. Well, struggling to breathe. Oh, yes. It’s not as if this is a man-cold and I’m complaining like a pathetic sponge. Sniff, sniff. Can I have a hug? I could do with one. Oh, never mind. I’ve found Tiddles…
Now, it’s onwards to the next 100 posts. Oh, joy.
German theoretical physicist, Albert Einstein (1879-1955), once said: “Imagination is more important than knowledge”.
Peace Out :|:
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