Worry

I hate that the majority of things I worry about turn out to fuck-all. Will I get paid? Yes, I will – not a big amount but still money…

Will I be ok at Bloodstock? Of course I will, won’t be perfect getting there but once I’m there it’ll be great.

Will I get good results tomorrow? This is what I’m stuck on at the moment and if I don’t pass, seriously it will suck, which I suppose will not happen, but it’s good to spend some time worrying on it anyway. Where would life be without all of this worry? I don’t understand why it is so much like this. There must’ve been so many times in history where this has occured. Did the Prussians worry about defeating Napoleon? Hmm. Did Lord Sandwich worry about the monster he’d created (when in fact Lord Bap made the same sort of thing over a century before him)? I dunno…

I’m not saying I’m nervous…goddamnit.

I’m learning more every day, but I don’t know if it’ll come to a conclusion any time yet. I’ll just watch and wait.

Decisions

Today, in a slightly philosophical and back-to-when-I-started-this-blogathing way, I discuss decisions.

Someone didn’t turn up to the exam I was taking today. This got me thinking (halfway through the exam of course) – why didn’t he turn up? Did he not want to face the exam? Did he oversleep, and why did he oversleep? Did he, in an ironic yet evil twist of fate, spend too long staying up revising and end up curled up warm in bed instead of getting comfortable on a creaky chair, getting annoyed at no pens working properly and having a headache at the end of it? What did he do ‘wrong’ when everyone else has got here on time, done the exam, complained about it and gone home?

It’s not just that – it’s the idea of if fate exists. Is life a long, straight path that we can only occasionally see 1 foot in front of us, or do some people have nice big torches that shine the way clearly? Are some people completely blind on this walk of Life? Is there a sprawling, unending link of pathways – all spread and waiting to be walked on as you look at the greenery around you or stare at the floor, change your music or check your phone – that you know every step you tread you are never, ever going back. Fate, it seems, pushes you forward helplessly as you stumble up the next passageway in life. There isn’t a change in tracks for days, weeks, years. Are you happy with it? Depends on how you treat the walk.

I myself believe that we are on a straight path – no off the tracks, no path less trodden, not even a rite of passage. One can believe that if they want to, but for me it makes a lot more sense that fate senses you’re going to do something and quickly lays the tracks in front of you without you noticing the tar being a little sticky under your heels or the cats-eyes winking brightly at you…yes, Fate can cheat, and I believe He does. Nothing could know all as it happens – the human mind is a stupid machine and does irrational things when it shouldn’t – what’s under the box and why is it steaming and emitting green stuff? I wonder what happens if I take those pills, I love her so I’m going to walk miles, etc. If I was a machine I would conserve energy and say the right things. I wouldn’t screw up, frankly. But then again, as I have just described in almost touchable detail, can you ever screw up?

This is the beauty of life – knowing we will never get the chance to turn back time, but doing the same things again and again because it makes us feel safe. Let’s do new things with that time. Fly a kite, capture a butterfly, shoot a hooker even. Be unsafe. Fate doesn’t know what we’re going to do yet so let’s surprise Him, and hopefully we’ll catch it napping and gain control of His cement and steamroller.

Way, way more on this later I think.

Cleanliness (+More)

“So I have too much stuff. I’m clearing up now (kind of) but I’m realising it’s actually hopeless – I don’t have enough space to put all of this shit. Stuff like magazine CDs, books, guitar shite, headphones (1 of 10 works in both ears but I can’t bring myself to throw them away) and other assorted rubbish. I’m annoyed with myself in places (I have a book-light which is out of battery and a feeder for SeaMonkeys which have died months ago on my desk for example) and I know I won’t throw a lot of this away until Uni…even then it’ll take about a week to decide what.”

I don’t wish to divulge anything else to Myspace.

It’s so annoying – I think my parents are actually right about how being organised helps grades. Meh, I’ll be more organised come Uni because I’ll have a smaller room and one, lovely subject to concentrate on – language. (Start tangent)

Think of all the ways different languages create an image in your mind…Spanish has a dusty, old feeling to it. “Mis tíos viven en el campo” – My aunt and uncle live in the countryside – it’s nothing like in French where you would say “Ma tante et mon oncle vivent á la campagne”, where if said in a traditional strong accent, you imagine a big mansion in the middle of nowhere with servants and a vineyard. The Spanish version, said out loud, builds a picture of a tiny shack with a pen for alpacas and 3 small, tanned children running around it shouting and playing – the aunt and uncle come out and shout ‘ven conmigo mis niños!’. End tangent.

Going back to cleanliness…my parents have a strange urge to be clean. I don’t know why, maybe I’ll do it when I’m older, but they come in with a cup of tea or something and take old cups out, tell me to make the bed, ask if I’m going to put my clothes away, etc. I wonder if I’ll miss this when I’m in uni…the problem is I’m taking a big dislike to cleanliness no matter what they say. Sure, baths and showers, but when it comes to material possessions I’d rather have them strategically placed around my bed and computer, which is kind of what it’s like now. Still, I’m going to have to clean today because otherwise I won’t find a matching A2 past paper and cassette for the listening part.

This brings me to the next point I’ve been thinking about recently. When I’m older.

My Dad has been disappointed in me in certain bits – he is annoyed I don’t work as much as he did when he was my age, I don’t go out nearly as much, I’m generally lazy whereas he didn’t have the choice and had to bike 5 miles a day to school. I spent hours and hours on the computer every day pretty much doing nothing.

When I’m older will I be like this? Will I tell my 6-year-old kid to go to bed at 7:30 and he’ll tell me he’s just finishing learning about nuclear science for his homework, and can he stay up another 30 minutes so the computer finishes uploading it to his brain? I’ll tell him it’s cheating and when I was young I had to learn by memory, becoming disappointed.

Will I be disappointed when he has his first girlfriend…on MSN?

Will I be disappointed when I see on the curriculum that writing is no longer needed and is replaced by typing?

I’m giving this up, it’s making me a bit depressed. Woo, cleaning and revision here I come.