Like a zombie dictionary, dripping with torn pages plucked gleefully by a schoolboy giggling at the word bum, this blog refuses to die.
Or more poignantly, I refuse to be dragged into the current mire that is plaguing my sleep and inspiration deprived brain.
I think I've been getting it the wrong way about. Complaining about my job has now become a sport, of which I am the current Lance Armstrong. A multiple world champion in bemoaning my lot in life, I achieve this level of self-loathing with seemingly little effort. However, I am cheating myself. See, it shouldn't be the shitty things in life that dictate our moods and outlooks. Rather, it's the very fact that 'regular' life can be so mundane that should force us to transcend such misery.
The roller coaster of my attempts to work out just what I am has most recently been on the down slope, but any sane person knows that if you don't pick up that downward momentum, you won't get up the next rise. I'm not usually classed a sane person, so I often lose sight of these simple physical laws. Twice before in this life I have hit rock bottom and only then realised that the next part is up.
So what does this amount to in terms of actual action?
Do things to force the momentum. Add a few horsepower to that carriage. Take some practical steps to ensure that when you hit the top of the next rise, you're going so fast that you barely notice the subsequent dip.
Oh, and fasten your seatbelts...
