Elective Blackout

The recent posts have been irrational ramblings and cut-and-pastes. There had been little commentary other than some raving and ranting. I had not intended this to be so but there had been far too much of a information overload at my end.

I have become just too happy to turn into a bimbo the minute I can turn off my "power of analysis". My brain is too tired.

Take me literally when I tell you that I am "tired of life". I'm not going to kill myself - *don't worry/sorry for the disappointment. I am just tired of the deluge of minutiae which provide a lot of irri-tainment but little value.

Google news has become my constant companion and so have the other aviation related news headliners and articles which I need to read in the course of my work.

So when I am off work, I simply don't want to talk about what is happening or comment. I can't imagine, sometimes, what my opinions would mean to the Americans if I say how much of a Republican supporter I am and how disappointed I have been of their presidential candidates thusfar. What difference would it have made if I ranted at the Korean missionaries who reduced the nation to adopting a missionary position in front of the Taleban? Who am I to care about global warming since I am part of the problem (I eat too much. Other than that, I am very green.) instead of being the solution? What has Roger Federer winning his fourth consecutive US Open title got to do with me? What good would it be for me to tell you that I very much want to see McLaren get suspended from F1 races for 20 years for industrial espionage?

At the end of the day, I threw out all my thoughts into a thought garbage/recycling bin. I intend to relook the pieces inside there one of these days.

But one of these days is really none of these days and I had just deleted a good number of draft posts from my blog dashboard. I simply can't find it in me to be so impassioned about certain things anymore.

There are things which I am passionate about still but to a large extent, I have managed to find my choir, to whom I preach. Again, though, the futility is evident - why convert the converted? It is such a joke. I feel ready to transcend this level that I am on and elevate myself but when I look around, the next level is where financial positions play a large role.

Upper class folks don't blog. The reporters are their ghost writers and the tabloids and broadsheets are their blogs. Of course, the uppermost crust - crisp, light and delectable - don't even have to do anything. The reporters will think of things about them to blog. Middle class folks like me and many of my friends write our own entries. And I mighty say I feel right at home in their company.

So where am I? Oh, the elective blackout. I still bitch a lot about things that I do not see fairness in. I just bitched about the price increase in public transport. But will I write about it at length? I doubt. It's no longer a writer's block that I suffer but a kind of socio-political inertia - Why ask me if you have already made up your mind? Will my views and inputs make any changes?

Don't get me wrong. I am not indifferent. I could be past that or nearing that. But I have decided that I'll devote my energies to fight more useful battles. For instance, annihilating the ants crawling all over my kitchen hob after my housemate failed to clean up properly after cooking. You certainly can do without certain vermin in your house.

And how has life been during this elective blackout period? Nothing much has changed really. I have more time for television programmes. I have more time to make friends on the web. I still don't like going out although when I am out, I am amenable to meet new people. The trouble to dress up to go out is indeed debilitating. By the time I am ready to get out of the house, my get up and go long got out and went.

I begin to ask myself philosophical questions, such as "If I were adopted by Brangelina...", "If my surname were Wales...", "How do I do a double triple date without getting caught...", "What is the value of being prim and proper...", "When there is is, there was is, then is there is was...", and then decide that maybe the best thing to do is to see if there would suddenly be raspberry ripple ice-cream waiting for me in the freezer.

And when I don't find any, I go and look for blonde jokes and wonder if life would be any different if I were 40 kg lighter, had wash board abs and were blonde too... Life is good.

* - delete where inapplicable.