Black Stiletto Shoes

Work it harder
Make it better
Do it faster
Makes us stronger
More than ever
Hour after hour
Work is never over

Indeed at times, when I sit in my cold and calculating labyrinth of inner genius, it seems that our work is never over. For do we not, as the great philosopher Max Wade once said whilst slightly tipsy at some private function, hide from some nameless dark creature of the night who is, as always, infinitely more subtle powerful and grander than ourselves? Do we not, in short, fear?

There are many things which would initiate such feelings of dread or that gut wrenching, wetting-one's-pants feeling that can sometimes be disassimilated into the simplistic title of fear. One can fear doing one's taxes for example, but this is a fickle fear and therefore should not be paid significant attention to. Just do your taxes you mong! On the other scale of things, waking up to realise that the local police have found that dead body you habitually hung in your freezer at your place of work and are at the door RIGHT NOW! is somewhat of a greater fear. Unless you have too done such a heinous thing I doubt you must worry about such things.

No, I fear that fear is a subject that escapes such meager means at classification, and yet prevails not only as a major player in our card-table of life, but is also a major subject of my thoughts in recent times. Why? Because I am consumed by it. And I'm not talking, obsessing over the cool movie you went and saw with your 'significant other' and didn't actually see most of the movie because you were 'conversating' in the back row (possibly on the floor). No, I'm talking obsessed as in bad obsessed. I live in fear, and as such it has become quite a taxing presence on my thoughts...

I got a message from my mother today. As side notes go, this is quite an aside, but it still remains within the bounds of the "fear" conversation, yet at a lower level. This is not my dead-body, gut wrenching fear. This is something lesser, but family related... Basically she sent me a txt, or text if you will, that was unsettling. "I need 2 talk 2 u. Pls ring me" Under normal circumstances this is not a huge thing, but due to my current mental state when I received this message paranoia instantly settled in. It's like when you get pulled over by the police but you know you haven't done ANYTHING wrong, but you still sit there and run over anything you might have done wrong, sometimes convincing yourself that you must have done something and so fear settles into your head and feeds you little goblins of hellish thought to deal with. That's where I'm at now. I shall call her soon and may or may not report back on the situation. At most I shall ascertain whether or not my paranoia was unfounded or not. Only time will tell.

I feel a greater satisfaction with this post as compared to previous postings. This was not intentionally an intentional thing. I did not really set out to write in this slightly different and somewhat lilting manner. I am still "blogging my feelings" and yet I find comfort in the fact that I can happily say purple covered glow stick dew with stomach ulcer enhancing properties and not have it feel out of place in the general (or indeed specific) scheme of things. As far as schemes go, this one is pretty bizzare whist still retaining a semblance of cogency. Nice.

Well, I shall move on, as inevitably one must always move on, and shall endeavour to face my paranoia head on and hopefully prove it wrong, or at the least just face it and whatever comes from the "confrontation". Go me!

See you when I see you. Unless I don't.