Lion Cat

I don't know what it is that makes her make this face. It's odd because she's purring all the time she looks like this, but doesn't look particularly happy about it. Just before this picture was taken her jaw was much wider and more set in the 'Lion Face' expression. Just after this picture was taken, she bit me. Probably because I'd discovered one way to get her to pull this face is to tickle her tummy. She doesn't like that.

Grumbly in my Tumbly

I've had a stomach ache since Monday afternoon. Last night I was deciding that everything is pointless, and reading through my blog I wish there were more optimistic moments. A lady I work with is the most inspirational person I've ever met when it comes to embracing optimism, revelling in life, enjoying what you enjoy, and choosing not to regret anything. Maybe the ache is a lack of Joy, or the lack of nurture for any Joy I possess.

I thought this was quite cool

Newspaper Club is a service that helps people and communities make their own newspapers. www.newspaperclub.co.uk

For How Long Or Short Can You Hold A Thought

I want to look up a word, by the time I've typed dictionary into google I've forgotten the word.

There is a train of thought I wish to pursue with some more thinking, upon thinking that I wish to think about this thought more I forget the thought.

It has just taken me ages to remember the snapshot of someone else’s life that I witnessed yesterday that made me wonder what an average human person is, and the possibility that a perfectly average person would probably turn out to be below the average I would expect.

I stood in disbelief listening to a mother making excuses and deferring responsibility onto her child, explaining to the teacher that the reason her six year old daughter didn't have her book bag that day was because the child forgot it and left it in the car, and the reason she doesn't regularly read her school book, is because the child forgets to remind her(this also explains why her reading record book doesn't get written in by the parent, as the child hasn't read anything to record, and the child has forgotten to tell the parent that the parent should be doing so) The teacher explains that if the problem is that her school book has been lost, to let her know and they'll arrange a replacement. This is met with more excuses. Teacher closes with grace and diplomacy by explaining that the book bag and reading issues have been raised with the child previously, and that she had reached the conclusion that it would be best to discuss it with the child's mother, as she would resolve the situation and maybe take on some of the responsibility to help her daughter to remember to do her reading and bring her books to school.

It reminded me of a conversation I overheard on the bus between a girl and her phone, explaining the reason for her enrolling on a hair and beauty course at the local college was that her only other option was to sign on. And while part of me admired her determination not to sign on, I was confused and disheartened that she would pursue something in which she had little interest, because she didn't seem able to consider that there may be more appealing opportunities outside of the 10 mile radius in which she exists.

Describe the smell of static

I have recently become more aware of the smell of static in the office. Upon mentioning this I realised I was the only person who has noticed this and added further credence to my 'odd one in the corner' credentials. That said, I'm still most likely the 'most sane person they know', to paraphrase a previous description of me.
I'm not sure if the smell is related to a recent affliction that has swept through much of the networked electronic equipment, which creates a new little hurdle most days. Though this is not a bad thing. I made the mistake of getting quite good at doing my job quite quickly and accurately when faced with an overflowing in tray and no replacement for my colleague.
Now that the process has been largely simplified, most of my self taught skills (which I am despairingly proud of) have become redundant. I don't get to play on the cool stuff that would give me the skills to work elsewhere in the industry, and this position is pretty rigid in its dead-endedness.
Not that I ever intended to stay here, but I can't say I anticipated to be working for a company that has decided to buck the industry trend, to neither it's benefit or credit, and has left me in possibly a worse position than if I had never worked in publishing before.
The prospect of becoming self employed is becoming ever more distant, since it relies on my completing the training. If I'd completed it within the six months I had intended to, the momentum might have acted as motivation for at least eighteen months. As it is I'm stagnating in an office with no future, failing to complete yet another course of study, and questioning my lack of ambition, desire or enthusiasm for anything.
Last night, it was suggested that the way to determine your purpose in life is to write a list of possible purposes, and when you happen across the one that makes you cry, you have found your purpose. Flaws in this theory include the poor person committing endless possibilities to paper until they sob in desperation at not seeming able to determine their purpose, thus committing themselves to something irrelevant. Another flaw (more in the person than the process) would be to list ideas that are not appealing and find yourself crying at the things that you don't want. But surely this is more down to spending too much time concentrating on what I don't want and what I don't want to be, until this becomes the sole focus of thought and ends up the outcome of existence.
So what do I want.

JobjobJubjub

The sheen on the shine of the job is most definitely tarnished, and the shine shone it's last a while ago. With it went the gleam in my eye that accompanied the interest in learning new (though decidedly mundane) things to do in this employment.
It's certainly deaded, and would work quite well as a support in creating an environment in which to do the things I want to do, if I knew what I wanted to do or felt in anyway creative.
Contentedness does not invigorate creativeness (in myself at least), and I'm fed up of the blandness left in its' place.
Discipline, near financial stability and a dream of achieving an ideal home envrionment are no where near as cool as I thought they might be, and it would seem clawing ones way back from that potential abyss is more difficult than one would anticipate.