The Ramblings of a Madman
I’ve deleted a few stories from here. I felt they were a little too honest about my feelings. In truth I hope anybody who read them found them interesting from a people-watching perspective and didn’t just consider them badly written musings from a very confused individual which is probably what they were. But they were honest. Hopefully that won’t mean that they were met with disdain.
It’s confusing to me. I don’t seem to have a filter in many ways. I don’t talk so much as a person unless I’ve had a drink. If I’ve had a drink I won’t shut up, but sober I’m pretty quiet. It’s a headache because I feel so torn when I express myself. Torn between knowing what I say might be met with judgement and between blurting it out and getting it out the way. Sometimes it’s easier to blurt something out, despite probably seeming self-absorbed or just plain rude, than feel that headache of feeling torn.
Welcome to the crazy train.
I am still up. Boring to know, I realise, but somehow I think my body clock might be getting sorted. Up at seven I was ploughing through my iOS learning and I’ve just finished module thirteen. I should be finished with fifteen by the end of tomorrow. Let the knowledge seep in.
I want to get into Android development soon as well. I am to make an app for a friend that slows down the passage of sound. By the time I’ve got to it, he probably won’t want it any more, but it’s a matter of pride. I just need to get some money coming in first.
How do you feel about phones? How scary are they for you or don’t they touch you? I hate them, I don’t know why. I’d call it fear but it’s probably just anxiety. I don’t know where that came from. I’m looking at my mobile phone thinking about how I keep it switched off, so I lied just now when I said I don’t know where that came from. Well. Not so much lied. I neglected to think.
Tiredness does interesting things to the mind. This morning when I woke up I felt like everything was wrong. I felt apologetic for writing on Medium, as if I’d forced people to read my complete insanity which was supposed to fence it in and failed, and the roof “thing”. Of course when it comes to the roof “thing” one could question me as to why I’m not panicked into applying for every job under the sun. Hope I suppose. I am hoping in this day and age I’ll be able to make it without offices. Offices are worse than dry. Aren’t they? I suppose some thrive in them. I have worked with some lovely people. It’s this notion, though, that you can’t leave until the clock strikes whatever regardless of how hard you’ve worked. Which actually, now I think about it, is hard to gauge because I’ve very often got impostor’s syndrome anyway. Except now. When I freelance. I’ve picked up a lot of knowledge. I think I have anyway. Maybe what I could do with more of, though, is proper computer science. That of trees and binary chops. Does anybody care? I’ve got a faint idea of what they are but I suspect they only scratch the surface of what I should know. This is tired ramblings.
One thing I want to get out and down is this “I changed my train, but I lost my bag, Don’t wanna see ya, but I can’t turn back”. That’s all I’ve got for that start-of-a-song. I had more. At the time I was changing trains whilst in a terrible state. I just don’t want to lose it. I was genuinely hearing voices. Like they were from a tape recorder during that time.
Is testing a career worth pursuing? You can’t learn forever, but in my case I don’t want to keep going into jobs and feeling inadequate. Freelancing works so well. Usually. My first stint at it left me rather poor and unfortunately now trying to leave mid-project which is a bit scary because frankly I feel guilty. But. Roof.
I’m just looking at Xcode. Why on Earth would it, by default, indent using spaces? That’s not right is it? Use tabs! I like tabs. Less chance of the wrong number, right? I’ve just made an app that first uses an Apple library to ascertain the location of the user’s phone, then sends that data, the longitude and latitude, over to a web API to figure out the weather and displays this information via an icon and a temperature value on the screen. Having the phone’s location is a tool. And why is Mojave’s background always night time?I thought it was supposed to change.
I’ve completely given up on filtering now. Now I’m just letting rip. It’s keeping me awake. Being tired is a little bit like being drunk and it’s making me worse.
I did like my writing about offices though. In truth, though, you can bring yourself to care but it’s because it’s a small environment. In my last job though, eCommerce sites, I really didn’t give a damn. I mean it was all about big money. That kind of thing makes me sick. Making large organisations with too much money richer. I like small shops, full of wonderful treasures. Modern times, eh? Also the name of a very good album. I shall find a song and put it in here. I found a song, and it’s one of my favourites but it’s not from Modern Times.
There. That’s nice. A picture to look at. Jesus computers blow me away. They’re too much. I wish I could make some money so I could buy some computer games.
This is a great song. I bet it’s easy to play as well. Maybe I should have a go. When I get some money I could probably record it too. I probably just need a decent mic. I don’t think my vocal would be too bad…right?
Maybe my observations of life on Earth, and they are observations, come from my weird mind make up. I see people, and of course if you like them then humanity takes over. The good in it. But people you don’t know so well. I mean they’re harder to empathise, right? I feel like a robot whose tape programme’s got jammed.
Why should we be any more important than any other living thing and that includes teeny tiny little things you need a microscope with which to view.
Some songs are magical. I like the idea of blood in the eyes, but I don’t really know what it means. Unless he got into a fight and the blood rolled down his forehead and into his eyes.
I don’t have a topic to write about. I could write about freelancing but I’m not exactly a success at that. Idiot Wind.
Another great song. It wouldn’t sound right with any other voice.
Time! Time is interesting. Forget physics. Yesterday I was thinking it’s time I have an issue with, and I don’t mean with the passage of my life, although that probably eats me as well. But if listening to someone talk I need to be able to remember the sound of the beginning of what’s been said for considerable time to be able to absorb it. It’s like getting stuck. I am processing the beginning whilst the rest of the words are being said. Could that just be anxiety? Tiredness? I bring time into it because it’s like I always need the big picture to absorb the whole, and that includes the past apparently. Sound memory, audio memory, whatever the fuck it’s called, is good when it’s good though. I can hear the sound of songs I’ve not heard in decades. Long term memory is great as far as I can see too…I can remember crawling. At least I think I can. Certainly it was in a house we’d lived in before I was three. Three year olds can walk can’t they. Yes they can! Because I remember my third birthday cake and I wasn’t crawling then! No sir! It was a hedgehog! With chocolate buttons for spikes. Some things you never forget. Painful to remember in a way, though. What happened?
I remember a mobile. The hanging kind. It was red and the bedspread was turquoise. Now I was two at the very most there. I remember falling down the back of that bed, head first too. I was having a nightmare. I have a very faint sight of the dream too, but it is faint. I know it was animals. Tigers and lions are what I remember, fading in and out and for reasons I don’t know it scared me. Maybe it was too vivid for me at that age. I freaked out and somehow fell down the back of the bed. My legs were sticking up and I remember waggling them because I half thought it would be funny. That’s what happens in cartoons.
I miss those times. I feel like my family have never been happy. I hope I’m wrong and it’s just my anxiety that’s making me feel that. Probably not then and not now. At some point, though, you have to stand up and walk on the hot coals of realisation that you are, indeed, thirty fucking six, and build something for yourself. And those hot coals are acceptance of where you are and what’s going on. If you don’t you’ll live in denial your entire life. About your age. About times long gone. It’s like shock, though. To face it head on. Not the kind of shock that gives you a pale face and makes you throw up. More like a brief floating feeling. It seems even those of us who think we see the world for all we humans can see it is, those of us who throw out the idea of free will, there are some realisations that’ll always fuck us up. Like. Well. Reality.
What gives you that shock? Do you think that’s normal? For me it’s my age. My father died back in ’93. That’s still shocking sometimes. It’s experiences I’ve had. It’s the drink I’ve drunk. The years that pass. Productivity. How does one make their life productive? It’s subjective. Some people seem not to even think about it. But I can’t see beyond creativity but I always set aside the things I actually want to do for the things I don’t. Coding’s always got in the way of painting, drawing, writing, guitaring, drumming. Everything I want. I think it’s like leaving the parsnips until last in a Sunday dinner. Bloody love parsnips. So how the fuck did I get here? In Bath!? And I know if I had some kind of ability to do life properly I’d have done all of those things to a larger degree.
I am small minded. Often I’ll do things the same way because I want to rather than because I think they’re efficient. This is not automatic writing.
Cloyster said to the hallowed that the ducks were dawning, the shawn and the shed, the fire and the fed, the stamina wasn’t for the soothed because the desecration was too much to bare. Tantamount to Holland’s graphic interface a duckling sallied its soul. It wasn’t until much later the skulls reappeared and the veracious moon voiled and vallied it’s vorocious moon. Toiling away in death, the living showered.
Lots of words there I didn’t know I knew and I knew you didn’t know them. Look at that. Lots of knows and knews.
Music is God.
Hahaha, I’m fucking exhausted. Should I ever be allowed on the internet? Sorry anyone who got this far. There’s no magic words. Magic. Physics. People.
Here have this back.
If you hate my ramblings I’ll probably realise later and delete this crap again.