The Little White Lie

And so I now find myself in a land I don’t know, a dimension where the laws of physics or some such mystical nonsense no longer hold sway.  It must have been while I slept.  Perhaps it was those greys the little blighters, deciding a trans-dimensional shift was the order of the day ignoring ritual back passage shenanigans (they must get very bored and to be honest I’m sure it’s a chore).

In my previous existence not telling the truth was a sin of a sort and not looked upon as a way to influence people, make friends or get a job.  In fact one sniff of such dishonesty and your copy book was blighted, burned and the ashes scattered.  A little white lie could be just as damaging as a dirty big honker (though a million plus parents will tell you differently I’m sure, it’s all down to the situation and season).

Here it’s different. In fact the bigger the lie, the more outrageously crass, the bigger the reward.  It’s as though the lie becomes invisible, it becomes a mis-truth which we all know boys and girls is not the same thing as a lie, it’s cosy and smart and smiles a smile you just have to forgive… Or forget.

I’m in bed by 6:00 most nights, I leave the window wide open. Those big eyed guys from the far flung galaxy – where a trip to earth is like a holiday at Butlins (but with extra bodily embarrassing games that make carrying a water filled balloon clenched between straining buttocks look safe) – are welcome to come back and take me home.

The Right Signals

Today I shall be starting with a rant, something I rarely do in public and usually only when driven to it by my perception of something ridiculous, absurd or plain stupid.  This is usually when behind the wheel of a car but does sometimes happen when I’m a mere passenger (in a car or a bus it doesn’t really matter).

Now I have to admit I am not ranting out of a sense of my own perfection I am not perfect and like all humans (yes I am actually human though sometimes I do wonder, perhaps I’m an alien whose mind was wiped clean or a new species born from humanity but ever so slightly different – then I tell myself to cease the deranged day dreams and get back to driving) I make mistakes every now and then.

I have mixed my colours (reds, blues and whites) in a washing machine and ended up with a lovely pink shirt (very fashionable I’ve heard though not really to my taste).  I have started my car and somehow managed to lock the doors but still been firmly and securely stood at the side of the car, my mouth dropped open in amazement at my stupidity!  I have let my children draw on my face and forgotten completely as I rushed out of the door to go to work (I wondered why so many people seemed happy that day with most people greeting me with hesitant but vibrant smiles).  And I have on occasion forgotten to signal when either changing direction or at a junction – for this I apologise profusely and it makes me feel ever so guilty it really does.

I have noticed an increasing number of people who seem incapable of indicating.  I am not sure if it is a one-off occasion (as with me above and to you people I also apologise profusely and I do understand completely how each evening you now spend some time in tortured anguish over the guilt).

What I am certain of is that there are far too many people not doing it to tell me that most of them simply don’t want to, don’t care or have forgotten that not only is it helpful to other road users to know which direction you intend to go but also one of the things you get tested on when you pass your test.

Of course it could be that they’ve not passed their test which means they simply won’t know which I suppose I can excuse; if you’ve not studied the highway code taken lessons or taken a test then of course you’re not going to know what that little stick connected to the steering wheel is for are you?

The majority of people I’m sure must have passed their test at some point.  So why do they sit there at a junction as traffic drives steadily past, with a look of pained anxiety on their faces, desperate to pull out and wondering why nobody seems willing to oblige?  I have a little rule I usually use – if somebody is waiting to pull out and I can let them do so safely then I will, as long as they are indicating!

There has been a couple of occasions when a car has sat there indicating correctly and I’ve slowed down half a mile down the road, flashed my lights madly, waved my hands etc. only for the person to calmly sit there seemingly waiting for a much bigger gap!  But that type of person is a lot rarer.

I am trying not to let other people’s’ driving annoy me.  Put simply there is not a lot I can do about it, I don’t have a blue light I can pop on the roof, I don’t have a machine gun installed in my car grill and getting angry tends to make me sweat far too much (which then means I have to use the washing machine a little more and I get more pink shirts).

Safe driving everybody.

Questions?

Do you know any answers?  Can you see how the world works when the night falls in pitiful shades of gray, dampening the light from a weak sun filtered through clouds of melting mountains?  Is it good to say I ache from the machinations of a crowd that pushes me in all directions with angry power?  Once I stood naked before the mirror and saw a man not yet old and no longer young but I didn’t see me, I couldn’t see me.  Why can people only glimpse that part of us that boils and simmers with some parts rage some parts love?  Am I going mad when I remember you from so long ago as though it was only this morning?   You were so fresh and new and I wanted you more than the air I breath.  Is it brash to lay down my feelings like so many open sores to be eaten away by time?  I dream in colours so vivid they hurt my eyes and pulses of pain seep deep, laying trenches in my conscious waking life, can I survive or sink into a spiral of hurt?

On The Nature of Existence

I was worrying last week about age and I’m glad to tell you that today I’m managing just to keep away from the mirror.  It’s not that I spend a long time in front of the reflecting device, in fact as little time as possible so I don’t have to dwell on the sagging jowls, spreading crows feet and travel bags packed with stones that hang loosely beneath my red eyes.

This week I have more worrying concerns to occupy my time.  No it’s not money or sex or food or even the state of the world – although I will admit to being a touch worried about all those things at some point since my last communication (mainly food as I’m still dieting – I’m craving a double chocolate muffin with plain chocolate chips and chocolate sauce oozing deliciously from it as I raise it to my hungry mouth…).

Where was I?  Oh yes my biggest niggling worry?  Existence.  Have you ever thought to yourself, can I really tell if this is all a dream, would I know if I was asleep or awake?  Perhaps I’m in some kind of coma and my mind has built a construct of such detail that I’m living a life full of people, places and things from my imagination.  Well if I am all I can say is I wish I had a little bit more imagination, one where I had just a little more money, a little more play and a lot less work and I could munch chocolate cake until it made me sick (but didn’t add any inches to my waist).

Apparently we all build a model of the world which we carry around in our noggins until the end of our days.  And nobody knows exactly how another human sees the world.  All our models could be completely different but unless somebody develops a way to ‘mind jump’ then we’ll never know.

I’m feeling a touch paranoid.  Have you seen Red Dwarf (and for you non-sci fi savvy non-uk based non Dwarfers this is a little BBC programme with quite a cult following, a comedy about a guy who is the last human, stranded aboard the good ship Red Dwarf with a cat, a hologram and an android – the special effects were excellent for the £5 per episode budget, but that wasn’t the point, the comedy was in the timing), the best ever episode involved the crew awaking from a false reality machine, the adventures had all been a ‘dream’ with each crew member taking on an alternative self.  There was a catch at the end but just in case you ever see it I won’t spoil it.  Knowing my luck I’d be even less cool than I am already (I’d be Duane Dibbly – you’ll need to look this up to get the full meaning)!

So am I dreaming, do I really exist or am I just a character in somebody elses book or a character in a cheap computer game (one of those that you can get for pennies)?  And on that note, for now, I’m shutting my program down for a few days but I’ll be back soon if you eat that cheese before bedtime or watch that really boring documentary again!