Scherzo

Every time I make a decision I can’t tell what the consequences are, and I have come a full circle back to sitting inside my head watching the outside world go round and round. Like sitting in a washing machine looking out through the round little window. I would be an awesome washing machine troll, sitting invisible in the coin laundry stealing buttons, making decorations of them to hang around me like seaweed.

I made some great decisions yesterday and promptly ignored what I’d need to do for those to work and continued existing the same as ever. Ah, morals, wherefore hath thou forsaken me? I wish I could wash all this grit away.

I have no song for the day. I'm still on Xavier Rudd. He is a glorious man. I can't find the song where he almost weeps 'I'm so, so, sorry' but it's in my head. When I went to see him he had three didgeridoos and a chest which clearly hid a huge diaphragm because to be able to sing with that much emotion and also play didgeridoo with circular breathing (!!!!!) AND then switch right onto harmonica, and do all of these thing almost at the same time... yeah he makes me happy. And not only these things but also dancing around like an imp of joy and bowing and speaking words of wisdom and gently mocking the universe...

Goodness I feel like people have been actually directing ideas at me through blogs. Pretty sure I was mentioned in three, at least. Which made me wonder if the reason we right blogs is to communicate without blame. You can’t blame someone for what they say if you choose to interpret their blog as being about you because hey, you could be wrong, it could just be you being self centred and presuming the world revolves around your insignificant life. Or at least that’s what I tell myself about the whole caboodle.

Wow, spell check automatically corrected caboodle (no k. Huh.). I didn’t even know it was a word. Apparently it comes from the phrase, ‘the whole kit and caboodle’; this indicates that that phrase didn’t just appear out of my mother’s head. Caboodle is an archaic word for... stuff. A group. A collection. Sometimes of people. Me and my caboodle are going to go hang. I like it.

I’m in a flippant mood. It’s awful. I just cannot take myself seriously. If people choose to take this joke of a person as if she means anything then they are very very silly. I’m made for standing on my head not for Romeo.

On to finer topics.

You, okay yeah I’m an awful person.

You, okay yeah I shouldn’t let you think I don’t know what I think. I am terribly, terribly sorry. You’re right.

I always thought I couldn’t understand why people did what they did to me. Surely they knew they were doing wrong. I didn’t know that sometimes that’s inescapable. That sometimes the law of double effect is something I enact. I’m on a learning curve. Katie tells me she’s never seen anyone destruct stuff with the lack of knowledge I do. Like I’m so naive that I can’t be held to blame. Nice of her, but blame is not something one can escape when one deserves it.

What I really wanted to say about myself with that bluebell simile, which was cruel to bluebells because they are lovely serious things and should not be likened to a scherzo like me is that although I mainly rise like a flame my mind is always drawing me back down to earth. See Kundera for serious thoughts on this.

I really enjoyed sitting cross legged on a stepping stone full of wine talking on the phone under the stars at midnight last night. I’m glad my school turns off their street lights at 11, even if it has been a cause for alarm in the past.