Complaining

I was recently complaining about the fact that I find myself complaining a lot. I was bitching about the small things that warp my pretty comfortable existence into something more interesting to talk about... such as a train being late (I don't travel well), weather being too hot/cold, having too many pillows on my bed, not having won the lottery yet and putting on a couple of pounds. All these beefs can be simply solved whether it be by putting on an extra coat, removing a few pillows or not eating all the brownies and the rest can be even more simply be put up with as, let's be fair, I'm one of the lucky ones. I can afford to take that train, I'm normally going somewhere fabulous and the person meeting me doesn't give too much of a toss about 15 minutes and I have that extra quid to gamble once a week.

This is not be harping on about how lucky we all are but simply readjusting my brain to the point that things aren't perfect and not everyone wants or would like to know how not perfect they are. I purposely avoid conversations with those people who when you ask "How are you" you are immediately regretful as their mouth opens and their troubles however acute become your acute problems too. I do often have a good moan about these people but in doing so I begrudgingly become one of them. 

So I hereby will try to not complain or complain about complaining as much, as I don't want you going off complaining about my complaining about complaining blog.

I'm going to head off now and try not to complain about how the word complain and all it's derivatives have lost all meaning.

My Guilty Pleasures

Guilty Pleasures I Have Felt Not One Ounce Of Guilt About Taking Pleasure In.

In no particular order.

Eating a cookie while I make dinner.
Correcting someone when they say would of, could of or should of instead of would have, could have or should have.
Passing an exam with flying colours despite not studying for it and having spent every class thinking about the musical episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Digging for compliments.
Outwitting drunk people.
Pretending my bloated belly is a baby and naming her Leonie or him Spike. In my mind.
Playing alarming amounts of Bejewelled Blitz when I should be doing something productive and blaming the parent who beat my score for my non-productivity.
Waking my Mother when she falls asleep during a film and telling her it's been three hours when it's been three minutes.
Watching Inglorious Bastards and double checking - again - that the guy with the baseball bat isn't the cute kid with a guitar from School of Rock.
Singing a song until Connie tells me to stop showing off.
"Fuck you very much" "What was that?" "Wank you very much" "Sorry?" "THANK YOU VERY MUCH!
Pouring more wine in my glass than theirs.
Staring at handsome men through sunglasses yet swearing at men who beep at me from white vans and make me jump like I've been electrocuted by the pavement.


Genuine pleasures. Genuine non-guilty feeling.

My actual guilty pleasures.
In no particular order.
You'll never know.

Perve.

Atheism

I've come to the conclusion I'm an atheist.

I don't understand how I could be any other way. I believe in evolution and the randomness of life.I believe that people are generally miserable despite their amazing selves and the opportunities presented such as chocolate and comedy and the creativity that their brain provides. I believe that governments are arseholes who can't do right for doing wrong simply because logic and morality is so warped and misguided through the mix of religious beliefs and stupidity on this planet that pleasing everyone is simply impossible so they endeavour to please themselves. I believe in the signals to my brain that create feelings of love when I see my family and friends or come across anyone who can make me laugh or doesn't dawdle in central London. I believe in laziness as well as inspiration. I believe in language and metaphors. I believe in Stephen Fry and his complexities. I believe in novels that take you to different worlds, times or dimensions. I believe that violence and cruelty are results of the imposers' religious beliefs, stupidity, mental illness or all three. I believe that I could write a book about a yellow dragon and in a couple of thousand years someone could discover it in whatever format and decide it is sacred fact and that everyone must worship this yellow dragon of Chocolateland simply because of the morality the story provides.

I believe in people's right to decide for themselves even if they decide to only listen to someone else's conclusions.

I believe that peace is nearly impossible in this world as we are too busy telling each other that peace is what our God or Gods want.... instead of reasonably thinking about it and coming to the conclusion that things would be better if smiles replaced guns and music replaced debt.

I also believe in Tom Hardy sweet patooty.