I really should write thoughts down when they come to me rather than almost twelve hours later, after going to work, a football match, and endless amounts of cleaning, so consequently this may go astray. Then again, these posts always do, so I don't really see the point in making such a statement. I always end up reading these posts back thinking 'Yeah, that's what you should've said' in my head. I digress. The point I want to make is that there's something big brewing: something I've been dwelling on a little recently and I just need to get it together in a coherent manner before I discuss it. It's rather philosophical, and epic, but watch this space...
In all honesty, today's been something of a non-entity: I awoke today, full of the joys of, err, late Summer (?), awaiting the pleasure of viewing the top-ten making Greatest Show in the Galaxy, only to be greeted by an episode of Dangerfield and a 30 minute clip show concerning 'The Best Who Monsters'. I mean, come on UK Gold! You were only a fortnight away from the end of the McCoy era! The show itself was alright, but it was mostly just the same old same old. I mean its good to see the old folks ambling around the stage, but its always the same guys! I mean, how many times do we have to see the Autons wreaking havoc on Ealing high-street? Yes, it's classic, but surely they could've mixed in some Terror as well? Ditto that with the Ice Warriors. Leaving out both of the Peladon stories is, quite frankly, careless! However, the show did leave me wanting to a) watch The Ice Warriors once more, and b) track down Seeds of Doom, Brain of Morbius and, strangely, Ark in Space. All that, and no Greatest Show means that I'm pining for a lot of different stories at the moment. Bet none of the unreleased above, nor Delta, ends up on the BBC release list for next year. One of the main saving graces of the formerly mentioned show though was the joy in realising Tom Baker was wearing a jacket similar to the one I recently purchased. Oh yeah! I'm slowly becoming like one of my idols, probably because I don't want to become myself.
It was strange Morbius should be featured in the programme, seen as though the word 'Morbius' has been running through my head a lot as of late. I don't know why this is; I just seem to go through stages when certain words appear in my conscious, and I just want to blurt them out at random intervals, just to get them out there and see how people react. Anyways, I ended up sketching Dear Morbius on a piece of paper at work this morning, much to the disgust of the woman sat next to me. I don't think she knew what it was, and I wouldn't blame her for being scared. The character itself is quite grotesque. Then again, that's probably why I like him.
In relation to work, I thought this resignation thing would feel different to what it does: after weeks of being told how valued you are, reaction has been very subdued. Now, I didn't want any kind of fuss or fanfare, not in any dimension. However, it'd have been nice to have been able to explain the reasons behind it, and keep a few options open, instead of just 'Right, ok then. Off you go'. Similarly, in myself, I thought I'd feel a mix of joy and relief. Instead its just boredom and accenuated frustration. The only saving grace for today's shift was the fact that I saw the rather lovely (x) that I've been admiring from afar for the first time in ages. Typical me though, I did my usual and said nothing to her. Instead, I just got a strange wave of nerves inside telling me not to say anything stupid, and with that the moment passed. I should've asked her where she'd been, but that'd have probably come across as a bit wierd and stalker-ish. I'd like to turn around to her and say something along the lines of 'Hey, look, I'm leaving this place soon and I'd really like to take you out for dinner, or a drink, or a movie sometime as I think you're pretty, err, pretty, which is probably why I've never said anything to you for ages, since I have this horrible habit of saying really stupid things in front of people who make me nervous, such as you. So what do you think?' but I know she'd just look at me as though I'm wierd. Having said that, she's probably been away for ages as she's been getting married, or had some serious illness, or something similar, and subsequently would make an excuse similar to that, smile sweetly, and forget me as quickly as the news broadcast she heard on the radio that morning.
And so in the above, we hit upon one of the internal questions I eternally struggle with: when is the right time to risk looking like an idiot, and admit your feelings? Or is it better just to ignore these thoughts and stumble around in life until, as people always tell you, someone stumbles into you? Thus, we hit upon one of my Big Questions in life: how can you be sure?
Bloody hell, we've gone deep, and that's not even what I was going to go deep about. Sorry if all of this seems a bit whiney but, as Coupland rightly observes, of all of society's taboos, loneliness is the most taboo of them all. I just wish I was as good at describing it as he was. Unfortunately though, that's one person I'll never get close to immitating.
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