Monday, March 09, 2009

Drivin’ on 9

I’m nose into the arse end of the first week of March and totally unable to say how I got there. I am, however, stuck fast and unsure of how to get out. I’m thinking of backing up slowly but I suspect that time will not kindly follow me and if it did we’d just be repeating the same patterns, the same boredoms, and the same tedious conversations. I’ve quite had enough of conversation. I’m not sure if it’s a peculiarity of mine or it is endemic to the interaction but mine are never straightforward. If there is a tangent I will pursue it. If a bird flies into my head I will mention it. Heaven forbid if you have a point.
I wonder if the wandering point and possible pointlessness of my conversation owes something to my own intrinsic pointlessness. Or, perhaps, if the habit – developed at school, I swear – of trying to be the weirdest and most interesting person in the room is the problem. I somehow rewired my brain to throw out and throw up oddities. This has the painful, slapping, ring of truth to it. There is a part of me that is partly sick of this part of myself. And then I engage in conversations that are so banal that I can speak both sides after the first sentence and I applaud myself for generally refraining from being so extremely dull. Better to be peculiar than predictable or predictably peculiar than demonically dull.
I am, of course, and as ever, finding myself oddly fascinating in comparison with, oh, everyone else. Well, I’d need to, wouldn’t I? How else would I function? How else could I magnify my neuroticism and tedious tales into the magnificent text you see before you? How, indeed. There is also, of course, the need to satisfy my public. Those folk who, bizarre as it seems, seem to have missed this semi-apocalyptic train-wreck during my unintended hiatus. You’re really a bunch of cute kids. I must have you all buy me alcohol units at some stage. No really, I insist.

6 comments:

TimT said...

I don't think I had to try to seem like the most peculiar person at my school.... Being the most peculiar person was a distinctly low-maintenance job. I slotted right into it.

I know I promised biscuits for this post, but how about lamingtons? Perhaps alcohol-laced lamingtons?

nailpolishblues said...

I shall be cast out of the country for this but I am not a fan of lamingtons (yes, yes, am a fussy little so and so). You do not need to bribe me with food.

There were odder fish than me in that school - it was quite a large school - I just wanted to outdo the room.

JahTeh said...

I remember the weird kid in the class, I think it was me. I was the one in year eleven who wore pigtails in an era of hairspray and teasing hairdo's into the stratosphere.

Lamingtons should only be tolerated when eaten with cream and strawberries.

nailpolishblues said...

It amuses me to think of attempting hair like that. I'm sure the humidity would have defeated the hairspray.

JahTeh said...

Those were the days Nails, when the most pressing need was money for a can of hairspray. I don't think I could cope with today's pressures, mobile phones, facebook, anorexia, exams. Being old has its pleasures.

nailpolishblues said...

I've never managed anorexia or bulimia. I am almost ashamed of my inability to conform.