Friday, 7 August 2009

Don't Blame It On the Weatherman

Well it’s friday! And you know what that means; yesterday was thursday! Which happened to be a day of watching endless episodes of something-or-other from my vast collection of t.v. box sets and listening to the non stop sound of weeping rain coming from the back yard. If this were a novel you’d might think I was trying to entice you with a little pathetic fallacy, setting the scene for a piss and moan, well you’d be right, the fact that this is just a blog won’t stop me being tricky.

Queue Rant:

Firstly, I bumped into this on my internet browsing http://joeycore.livejournal.com/2006/08/01. This is dated from about 3 years ago. It’s not really wise to be dredging up prehistoric rows for help in maintaining my blonde and brooding alter ego, but it’s all the hard evidence I’ve got to work with.

This livejournal rant comes from a girl who also managed to tell me I’d be strung up before I hit 21, which quite frankly still stings like your bladder would the morning after a long night of vodka and redbull. We were a match made in “BFF” hell. She was over rational to the point of robotic (think of a straight “A” but cynical stepford wife on a musical diet of “Blood Brothers”, [band not stage show] minus the adjustable breasts). Whereas neurosis, the queen of drama and I have become quite well aquainted since secondary school. Two wrongs can never make a right.

It got me thinking about how utterly terrifying modern life is! How it seems to be one big investment plan in anything and everything and 8/10 non of those things ever stay with you. Every few years there is a friend rehashed or a lover recycled, binned, bagged etc. People that you would have taken a bullet for become nothing more than aquaintances. Relationship statuses now pop up on news feeds and our lives are captured in pictures. Our entire lives are logged on and plugged in to everybody else, existing in a fish bowl, trapped and exposed. Ponder the meaning too much and you stop yourself from ever being able to do anything. Where did all the romance go? It probably moved from ‘MySpace’ to ‘Facebook’ along with everyone else.

Are we all just human milk cartons with an expiry date for everything? I shouldn’t complain after all variety is the spice of life!

Note to future best friends: I may be incompetent, socially retarded and maladjusted, but personally I think it makes me quirky!

A picture that sums up Thursdays: