Prejudicial Thinkings - Another Kind of Yoke

"That's the price I pay for loving you the way that I do." (Billy Bragg)

There was a time when I used to write everything that came to my mind to paper. I have a bad habit of telling people everything. I keep babbling until they turn away bored. So, I start colouring my stories to make them more interesting, so people don't turn away. That works for a little while and then they start picking up on the colouring and get bored again and turn away. Worst, if I try to stick to the plain old truth, they think I am exaggerating as I usually do, and so I can't get my point of view across. That in turn frustrates me, so I scream out by telling people everything. A vicious circle. I am aware of it. I know I should change. Funny enough I've had many chances in my life to start fresh. I moved a few times, changed jobs, gotten into a new environment and had all the intention to keep things straight. Somehow, that never worked and I find myself in that circle again with no escape. 

So, I began to confide in paper, and later in blogs. This found me many friends and readers on other sites that shall remain nameless. I found love, too, again, and again, and again and finally - I hope - forever. Again.

I'm not really sure where this is supposed to go. This blog, this entry. In the end, I think, this is the first place I have had in years where I can write about myself, coloured or straight, without any prejudice other than my own.

6 Comments | Link to This | Back to top

Time

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but its sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in the relative way, but youre older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the english way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought Id something more to say

Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
And when I come home cold and tired
Its good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells.

(Pink Floyd) 

... 

2 Comments | Link to This | Back to top

Burnt Toast

... been sitting here now for an hour reading online papers and waiting for shoutpost to load... I know, we are a-non-profit-low-priority-corner-of-the-blogging-world... but this is getting tiring, isn't it? Toast don't taste the same reheated for an hour.

5 Comments | Link to This | Back to top

Music

I like all sorts of music, and - I guess - as I continue to write here, I'll write about some bands I like. Well, I'm sitting here collecting my thoughts and my playlist kicks up "Harry's Wondrous World" from the Harry Potter soundtrack. Now, I'm neither into Harry Potter, nor really into classical music, but this is pretty good... kinda bubbly, funny... light... yes... light... diet classics... lots of umph, and no calories. Now, where is that broomstick of mine...

you should try it sometimes.

 

1 Comments | Link to This | Back to top

Not much bugs me

Not all that much bugs me, but this blog was supposed to be about those things that do crack my shell and make my yoke runny. Some would think of me as hardboiled, but I guess I am a soft egg after all. Need coffee. May brain squirt later...

3 Comments | Link to This | Back to top

Powercord

Did someone trip over the powercord on my eggwarmer? I haven't been able to boil for a few days. All I got was a time out and the occasional server error... and something about Shoutpost being back in 3 hours...

2 Comments | Link to This | Back to top

Chocolate is good

Chocolate is good. I would be a good egg, but why can't I be a chocolate egg? And what makes a good egg? One that's easy to crack? One that spreads easily on your english muffin in the morning, and cuddles up to your rasher of bacon? In that case, chocolate would be bad. How would Ronald McDonald feel about selling Egg and Bacon McMuffins with chocolate eggs? Contrarily, what makes a bad egg..? One that's cracked?

6 Comments | Link to This | Back to top

Appearances...

So, I wrote my first post and it was promptly flagged as spam... even though I am an egg, from a vegetarian free range hen... well, ok, so I had some spam when I was a kid... and you know what they say... you are what you eat... which would make me chocolate... right?

6 Comments | Link to This | Back to top

Welcome to my kitchen...

Welcome to my kitchen... follow me from the fridge to the frying pan.

0 Comments | Link to This | Back to top

Created with ShoutPost