I stuck this on Mywasteofspace as an experiment to find out how people find you. It is a strange thing that every person who requested to be a friend on there is a musician trying to sell me their wares or a life coach. I even had someone, heaven forbid, telling me to work from home selling their perfume - well that smelled fishy so I declined them. I do wonder if they were informed that I had declined them or whether it is just another of those things that goes passed unnoticed. ++++
I learned something new yesterday but the only problem is that I have forgotten what it was. However, there is a valid excuse and that is due to a poor or impaired short-term memory which according to doctors is caused by belly fat. I am not sure why belly fat causes Alzheimer’s disease or whether I actually have that but it seems I have manky white matter which is conducive to a poor short term memory. I can live with that because it is better or improved now due to surgery but it is still not perfect. That could be something to do with lack of focus or bad concentration, even a low boredom threshold could contribute to it.
So thinking about stringing sentences together and then forgetting what you first started to write about happens quite a lot and it is amazing how something gets completed at all in an almost comprehendible manner.
It has to be said that I can now understand why my neuropsychologist was amazed that I managed to string a book together. That could be something to do with the fact that it took ten years to get it done. The first four stories were probably completed before manky white matter struck, although I did have to write three more recently just to complete something that was never intended to be.
I think writing a book is not an enjoyable task at all which is maybe why I am not looking at the second one and pretending that writer’s block has struck. It is simple really to explain the reason. Writing is fun when you are not doing it for a reason because it is not done under pressure. However, sit down and try to write say a letter or invitation or even a diary, then everything stops flowing and the whole thing becomes a chore rather than fun. I have probably mentioned that before and does it matter?
I have noticed these days that my work structure does not make sense at times and that is also when I wonder about how I ever did do what I managed to complete. This brings on the fear that I could never complete another project and that causes a reluctance to sit down and try. Perhaps it will pass and things will just flow again. ++++
And so that is where it ended and I lost the plot again but that was due to being side-tracked by 'he who knows all' who decided that as the sun was shining, he would go out and masacre the windswept tree. This got me wondering how long it would be before he started hoovering his precious green lawn, making dirty footprints on the conservatory floor for me to clean. Pah, I hate summer. No I don't, I just hate clearing up someone else's mess so maybe I am in the wrong job. I know that Time and Motions would end up scratching their heads over what I do in a day but it is a little more than some who have retired from the outside world. What I would like to know is when I can retire from the inside world. Never it seems because 'he who knows all' once said to me, and I kid thee not, "You should think yourself lucky, at least you have a job for life." This was probably after yet another of my moaning sessions. After that remark I gave up hope of taking early retirement and just try to switch off when tedium is undertaken.
Thank heavens for the infonet, laptops, vino tinto and today, the sunshine. That makes a bad day brilliant. Thank you so much to whoever it is that decides to make the sun shine on me again.
