Second Helpings

Distractions

It’s a rare day I find myself home alone with a couple of hours to spare. I plan on developing a story I wrote a while back for a competition which closes on the 20th of this month. I make a bit of lunch and head for my writing room, feeling quite excited at the prospect of actually settling down to some serious work.

So what do I do?

I write a paragraph then come to a standstill. The writing seems flat and lifeless and I’m not sure how to inspire myself. I decide some music in the background may help – I’m not used to silence in this house.

I glance across the room and see the iPod I received for my burpday. I decide it’s time I actually put some music on it, so download iTunes and find myself exploring the site while my already downloaded music loads itself onto the fascinating little device. I scratch my head in awe of technological inventions.

That reminds me I need to design a new header for the Blogville News so I fiddle around with my graphics program, then my editing program, before loading it into my portfolio at WDC. It’s not quite right yet, but I need to get on with my story.

I return the iPod to its original destination on top of my digital camera box then remember I need to load my latest photos onto the computer. That done, I mess about moving them to appropriate folders and altering titles.

Looking at the photos I recall I promised to send a few to my sister via e-mail, so I sign into hotmail, attach the required photographs and write an e-mail to my sis complete with appropriate emoticons.

Once that’s sent I notice my weekly horoscope is sitting unread in my inbox. My horoscopes have been scarily accurate the last few weeks, so I have to read it to see if I’m in for a good or bad week. Looks pretty promising, so everything crossed there’ll be some truth in it. Feeling cheered I decide to read a few of the forwarded jokes I’ve also received; all too often I dump them without reading as I’m usually too busy. One of them in particular makes me laugh out loud.

My eyes drift to the clock on the computer. MY GOOOOOD. That time already? I jump off the computer and head for la la land feeling extremely guilty about my lack of progress with the story and knowing it will be a long time before I get chance to return to it. After an afternoon in la la land I am, of course, too tired and brain-confused to write anything now but this blog entry.

I once thought I had a burning ambition to write. I conclude I’m an impostor and would also be a useless psychologist as I don’t even understand myself, never mind anyone else.

P.S. To appease my conscience here’s the joke I really liked. In light of the political manifestos being bandied about WDC I thought it quite appropriate.

A modern day cowboy has spent many days crossing the western plains without water. His horse has already died of thirst. He’s crawling through the sand, certain he’s about to breathe his last breath, when all of a sudden he sees an object sticking out of the sand several yards in front of him.

He crawls to the object, pulls it out of the sand and discovers what looks to be an old briefcase. He opens it and out pops a genie. But this is no ordinary genie. She is wearing a Tax Office I.D. badge and a dull grey dress. There’s a calculator in her pocket-book and a pencil tucked behind her ear.

‘Well, cowboy,’ says the genie. ‘You know how I work. You have three wishes.’

‘I’m not falling for that one,’ replies the cowboy. ‘I’m not going to trust a government revenue official genie.’

‘What have you got to lose?’ asks the genie. ‘You’ve no transportation and won’t last much longer without sustenance anyway.’

‘Okay, I wish I was in a lush oasis with plenty of food and drink.’

POOF. The cowboy finds himself in the most beautiful oasis, surrounded by jugs of wine and plates of delicacies.

‘Okay, cowpoke, what’s your second wish?’

‘My second wish is that I was rich beyond my wildest dreams.’

POOF. The cowboy finds himself surrounded by treasure chests filled with rare, gold coins and precious gems.

‘Okay, cowpuncher, you have just one wish left. You’d better make it a good one.’

After thinking for a few minutes, the cowboy says,

‘I wish that no matter where I go, beautiful women will always want and need me.’

POOF. He turned into a tampon.

The moral of the story?

If the government offers you anything, there’s going to be a string attached.

Maybe I’m not cut out to be a writer after all – just a silly bugger blogger.