I always meant to keep a diary - my father, in particular, was an avid diarist. Mum would roll her eyes lovingly and mutter something about not knowing what there was in their house, worth writing about. I tried, but with that attitude in the back of my mind, 'news' dried up and the book got lost, on a regular basis.
Still, without going too deeply into the possibility that public blogging appeals to my ego, or a hidden need to be applauded or somesuch, it seems that at last I have found the secret - diaries do NOT have to be about 'your day', any old rant will do because it diarises thought processes. I have those, occasionally,... honest.
So - as far as complexes and hidden subroutines go, ("here's one I prepared earlier" - Ha! Really wanted to say that. I would mention Hamble and Little Ted and 'through the round window', but, erm, no. Someone would pray for me, or something), Ahem, repeat, as far as 'issues' go, I have several recurring ones that I can only spot in hindsight. Now is such a time and but for this blog I probably still wouldn't have a clue what was about to hit me.
Yesterday's blog - I stand by it. The basic premise that one should earn respect or live without it is spot on. I am BLOODY right. I will probably remain so until it's my turn to be the failure or disappointment, by which time I am sure there will be one or two tenuous exceptions to the rule. The thing is, that seems to be the case right this instant.
I am becoming annoyed at myself. (Only in bold, because its the whole point, but heck, even I would miss it in this mess and I wrote the bloody thing.) I tend not to notice when that starts to happen, however I think this is because when my principles are ready to crystallise into a plan of action, they cut across the board, so I tangentialise. I am nothing if not fair, I do share readily. Think of me as a blunderbus. Light the fuse, pull the trigger, but then I get sidetracked by all the non-targets that get hit in between the weapon and its intended and ultimate mark.
In other words, a growing subconscious sensation that I ought to kick my own arse into gear tends to be shared around any other arses sticking out at the time (how magnanimous), and lets face it, that girl's fella is an A grade bumhole, so he copped it.
What does all this mean? Only that today I will not be happy until I get off this blog and the web, and go tell myself off and get into a temper until I have 'achieved'. Theres nothing like converting negative disquiet into adrenaline into positive action - a bit like spiritual speed training.
Off to have a sudden burst of productivity while it lasts. Wish me luck!