Two Different Corners of My Mind.

The things I usually find funny, nobody else does.
For example, I love the show Flight of the Conchords. It already has a kind of cult-following because it's very specific kind of humor. Sometimes I find it hard to believe they even have international success, outside of New Zealand and Australia because their humor is very Wellington, which Australians tend to catch onto. But success in the United States and United Kingdom? That's like Colin Lane and Frank Woodley doing stand-up comedy in the Netherlands or something.
What I mean by 'The things I usually find funny, nobody else does' is that I always find myself laughing during scenes of Flight of the Conchords (for example) that everyone else just kind of nods along to. The more witty, genius side of the comedy rather than the obvious jokes.
I'm not one for jokes. I don't find jokes laugh-out-loud funny. If you tell me a joke, I'll probably just smile and say "That's clever" rather than have to hold my sides and bite my tounge to stop myself from laughing up a lung or something like the person telling the joke.

I was just thinking about that. So I thought I'd write it down.
I know that this isn't exactly touching on the kinds of things that I normally write about in this blog, but I don't care. Just like the person that I am, this blog doesn't have a theme, a stereotype or any kind of flow whatsoever. It's just a place where I can gather my thoughts sometimes. Usually read back over on the odd occasion and wish I could delete like several pages of my coming-of-age diaries and journals during my teenage years.
But I don't really believe in tearing out pages or deleting posts. The contents may not bring back happy memories, and may even be embarressing at times. But so is life. You can't erase the past. You can't chop out a memory, or twist or shape them. You can't stop remembering. So I don't try to.

I just went from light-hearted to deep-thoughts in 7 minutes. It's a talent.

I Never Really Thought Myself Much of a Hunter.

Sometimes I feel kind of lonely. It's strange sometimes on your own. There's nobody to catch you, you know what I mean?
But I mean, sometimes it's better like this. There's nobody to catch you. You learn the hard way. You learn to look after yourself, to grow up. You're free and it's liberating and it's exciting and it makes you feel like anything could happen. It's nerve-racking in an amazing way when you literally have no idea what could happen next. But it's lonely.

This is just how I feel. Today, I mean. Tomorrow might be different. I might be at the bottom of the mud or at the top of a mountain.
But at least I know tomorrow I will be one step closer to whatever it is that I'm looking for in this wide open world. You don't know what that is yet, and I sure as hell don't know what that is yet. But I'm ready to start the chase, today.

Yet Another Failure.

It’s funny when you meet someone, and at first, you think they’re great. They’re interesting, funny, confident, exciting. You can see yourself with this person. You can imagine yourself going to dinner with this person, or watching movies with this person, talking over coffee with this person. At first, when you meet them, they seem perfect.
Until, of course, you actually go and spend some actual time with the person and find out that you’re trapped in a Japanese restaurant eating raw fish and white wine made from fermented rice with somebody you have absolutely nothing in common with.
Oh the joys of dating.

General Ramblings.

I couldn't possibly know where to begin today.
I'm solely writing for the sake of writing. I just turned off my television so I could think better. I'm now sitting in my room listening to the low hum of my laptop and my sister singing faintly in the distance. It's 10:27pm, dark and cold outside. I've been meaning to get a jumper for quite some time now, but the motivation isn't there.
It's terrible to think that I need motivation to stand up, walk to my cupboard and get out any old jumper so I don't sit here shivering in front of my open window, isn't it?
I cleaned my room yesterday, which actually gave me a strangely liberating feeling once I was finished. I took most of the posters off my wall and put most of my strange useless objects away in the cupboard. I never realise how many little nick-knacks I've managed to accumulate over my nineteen years. Things people have given me, little figurines from my childhood, burnt out candles from times best left in the past, coins from countries I've never visited, stickers and pamphlets from restaurants and concerts I've never been to or attended. These are the kind of things I've managed to hoard and for some reason, kept.
I can't for the life of me remember where I found some of these things, but I really am the person who collects and keeps things "just in case".
I decided to un-clutter my room at an attempt to un-clutter my life. It's not at all like my life is too cluttered, even. I just felt like some kind of refreshment.
I like the cold sometimes, because it feels much fresher than the heat. I don't like being cold, but I don't mind the cold. I'm not sure how that is supposed to make any sense, either.

I've had the same bed and mattress since I was old enough to be moved out of a cot. I'm not sure if that's comforting or worrying anymore. I think I'm the only person who can sleep in my bed. I think the springs have simultaneously moulded to my body over the years.
I need a new bed.

Speaking of motivation earlier, I have this list in my mind that I have been adding to for quite some time now. It's a "To-Do" list of all these things I need to get done. It's simple things like return DVDs (three or four weeks overdue by this point), return library books (three or four months overdue by this point), get my license (three or four years overdue by this point). I'm not sure why I don't get get out there and do these things so I can relax about them and finally cross them off my imaginary list.
Perhaps I should actually make a list on paper.

On weekends, I never seem to get into bed before 3am. Even if I don't go out, I always manage to stay up past 3am by choice. It's just something about that time where it's dead quiet. Nobody is awake besides me and I walk out onto the street, stand in the middle of the road, even just in front of my house, and just take some time to think.
Standing alone in the street past 3am. Nothing but the sound of possums rustling in the trees or the street light flickering. It would seem like you would be more than insignificant, and even perhaps a little depressing. But I would say it's the only time where I feel like I fit somewhere in this obscene world we have created ourselves.
But you'd think the opposite, really.

We're freaks, the two of us.

I stumble out of my house, face flushed red from rushing around getting dressed and organized to leave, eyes squinting in the morning sun as I realise I left my sunglasses inside but it's far to late to run back. Especially since the cab driver hasn't stopped beeping his horn since he pulled into the driveway less than a minute ago.
And then by the time I get into the cab, I'm so exhausted that I'm just about ready to get back into bed. And the truth is that I don't really feel like talking this early in the morning, but I always manage to get some 65 year old cab driver who decides that I'm interested in his entire life story.
From experience, I've come to realise that any conversations that involve camping, family reunions or begin with "When I was a lad..." need to be skillfully avoided at all costs.
The thing that I don't understand about it, is that when I'm in a cab and the driver is telling me about the last time he saw his family or how when he was young, women wouldn't be caught dead wearing the clothes that young woman are running around in these days and I really should re-think the length of my shorts too if I want to gain any kind of respect from men, I'm kind of sitting there in the cab just going "Uh huh" and "Oh okay" while staring out the window. If that's not a brush-off or an "I'm not in the mood for talking" then I don't know what is.

Now that I think about it, I've noticed it at work, too. Clients who call up out of the blue with no real problem or enquiry, they just call up to talk about products they have bought and then the conversation kind of starts to slip into the weather and what they did on the weekend and how many children their daughter has.

Do people really just get that lonely that they need to call up a company and talk crap with Customer Service?
Do people really start to loose their minds so much that they can't even tell when someones clearly not interested in a conversation?

Now that's a scary thought.

Revelation at the red light.

I’ve been thinking a lot over the past couple of days.

And I’ve come to another realisation. It’s not that I don’t know who I am. It’s that I do.

I know exactly who I am. I know who my friends are. I know what I’m doing. I know where I’m going and which roads in life I’m willing to take.
If things don’t exactly turn out the way I want them to, I won’t be upset. I’ll make them better.

It’s scary sometimes to actually be so sure of myself in this aspect of life. My mind is telling me that it’s not normal. No nineteen year old knows who they are. Most nineteen year olds are still soul-searching. Most nineteen year olds would write an entry expressing the complete opposite to what I’m writing.

I know that I’m a hypocrite, and I’ll admit it. I know the difference between right and wrong, and I’ll admit that I don’t listen to myself sometimes.

I’m more than happy with the way everything has panned out so far.

But I’m afraid of not getting to feel this way forever.