Nothingness Overdrive

Having to live as an adult - because "overgrown child" isn't as acceptable in modern day society - means I'm rapidly running out of time to do nice things. The arduous tasks of going to classes, self-imposed studying, buying food, cooking food, eating food, defecating, cleaning, tidying, walking, even waking just seem to occupy every second of the day, if each day lasted approximately 173 hours. I've resigned to the fact that I'm simply existing rather than living right now, and will do for a considerable chunk of the foreseeable future. Even socialising feels like such a chore when I have to walk through the cold and dark, especially considering that sometimes I'd prefer to be alone and lie motionless with my head propped in a fixed, non-moving position directed at the moving-picture rectangle. Either that or sat bolt upright holding some form of interactive game-playing control device and doing the interacting; either way, the TV's involved. The fact that I've managed to put aside twenty-or-something minutes to aimlessly tap a bunch of letters into this thing seems nothing short of a miracle these days.

But surely, ya daft idiot, that means you have an awful lot to talk about from your past week of adventures, rather than moan on about how boring you feel your life is?
Ah, but that's just it. I find it unbelievably boring to even think of such misadventures, since that would actually involve active thought on my part. I'd much prefer it if, when life happens, it managed to be interesting and the memories of experiences gone by stayed inside this sieve-like mind, but life (being life) doesn't like to cooperate like that, instead opting to occur as monotonously as possible. Case in point, you just read a paragraph or two in which absolutely nothing has happened. Ha! Take that, you! You just got owned by life!

Even so, when something interesting does feel like happening, it tends to be on the verge of sleepytime, when the brain goes "Hey, I've got an idea" and the rest of the body shoves a tranquiliser in its gullet and rubs its neck 'til it goes down and forces it to slumber and leaves me to ponder why I've suddenly anthropomorphised my brain and given it a throat. Furthermore, I'm now creating sentences with far too many words and almost as many commas, without breaking them up any other way. My tedium-ridden mind is now in nothingness overdrive and likes spouting off words consisting of more than nine letters, which is ironic since Countdown's on in the background, bringing with it that daytime-friendly version of the Apocalypse through song upon the elderly and those who can't find the remote in time. Or those who just want background noise as they make words appear in a blog post and it's either that or The Alan Titchmarch Show, which, quite frankly, is a programme title bad enough to strike overwhelming depression into anybody's existence.

Is this actually going anywhere? No? Didn't think so. Anyway...

It's now been half an hour since I tapped Enter twice after "Anyway..." and I seem to have lost the will to comprehend any human thought whatsoever, meaning I might as well pretend to do some work towards studies, cook something, eat that something, tidy up and socialise once again, and stare forlornly at the red standby light on the Wii, as I apologise for neglecting it for yet another day.