What makes smart people stupid.

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It’s amazing how many emotions you can feel at once. Things happen and somehow you have this never ending capacity to feel things.  And sometimes, relative to the situation, you just want to turn them all off.

It’s so easy to get immersed in one thing and lose grip of a part of yourself, to get attached to someone if you give it a chance. You get used to an idea and then when it doesn’t work out, you can feel it. There’s a part missing... it’s not that it was always missing and temporarily got filled it’s that that idea made space for itself within you and you got used to it. But when it’s gone, you’ve got this space that shouldn’t be there, that wasn’t naturally there. You didn’t ask for it, or plan it, it happened, and it was beautiful while it lasted.

But this isn’t unique, it’s typical. Cliche.

And you can feel every emotion under the sun and go through the motions, like sitting in a dark room watching your fingers type feelings you theoretically know you shouldn’t broadcast, but it’s just like every other story. 

The worst part is not knowing which emotion you should let take over... sadness is pretty naturally prevalent, anger is more bearable, but for some reason you know it’s not fair to be mad or bitter or distrustful because there’s still love.
But I guess you realise, at the end of it all, you’ve learned a whole lot about yourself and you can decide there and then whether you want to re-create parts of yourself...

According to whatsis face...

Statistics - can't trust 'em. I mean, they say "statistics don't lie", oh and I love the phrase "statistics show" to draw some grand, outlandish conclusion, but really, they're always taken from a select group of people which are supposed to be generalized across a whole nation, and most the time, just like science, it disproves itself.

For example, they say (statistics say - I'm sure there's some sort of scientific basis for this) a person thinks about 60,000 thoughts a day with 56,400 thoughts centred on the self. Other statistics say 70,000, others 12,000. Some dude (probably some one important or something) reckons 2-3000 (seems a bit off according to statistics)... I just googled this question to get the exact statistic for you and pretty much every site has a different dang figure! Statistics are soooooo reliable.

And how do they even get those "stats"?? (picturing some sort of inception scenario in labs with a wrinkled, fluffy-haired, toothless grandpa holding a metal helmet over a body, here).. and what even constitutes a "thought"? what about the "slow" G's, the deep-thinker's, analytical and creative arty farts? and that 56K figure, that's a figure for a fairly balanced individual, yeah? so what about the obviously selfish pepos?

Like I said, grand and outlandish.

Obviously we won't remember most our thoughts, just the interesting ones (oh man, I must be so boring, I never remember what I'm going on about) but imagine if we did, we'd have no room in our brains to.... think - el oh el - didn't think that one through.. but I mean we'd be all over the place. I already feel like my brain is cluttered with shiz and my thought bin is empty... but I can't even remember what my thoughts are.. and where was I going with this post?? rambling about something.. oh right, statistsics...

Mmm, I tire of this topic, time to finish.

I think I have bipolar.

statistically

irrelevant

Diary of a tourist 8/10/2010

So I was cleaning my room last night (pause for applause) and I found the diary that I attempted to use whilst I was overseas. Admittedly it only lasted a couple of days (typical me behaviour) but I thought I would maybe share the first entry with y'all - just so you can scahdenfreude at my futile attempt to express the inner workings of my all-over-the-place mind:

"Wake up, it's a beautiful morning" emits through the little plastic sound holes of my earphones as I sit in Hong Kong waiting for my transit flight. Daylight struggles through the miserable looking clouds and tinted windows of the airport at 7am - I'm not exactly sure The Drums is entirely appropriate for this moment. Nevertheless, despite the gloomy weather that has promised itself to Hong Kong, after 9 hours of being cooped up in pretty much a 30cm radius and my sleeping travel companions for riveting conversation, I'm grateful for the stop, if only to freshen up and stretch.

How shall I sum up the last 9 hours? Four movies started and rejected (I'm a hard woman to please), two toilet trips, five attempts at catching shut eye, no spare vegan or even vegetarian meals (feeling peculiar movements in my stomach) and absolutely no success at getting semi comfortable.

And that's only one third of the flight over.. But hey, who am I to complain?

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So I'm back. Boredom  has once again set in during the flight from Hong Kong to London. After finally finishing a movie (the selection is something shocking), a chapter or two of lady Chatterley's Confession and finally a bit of a snooze, I find myself staring at voluminous, fluffy, pure white clouds (yes I scored the window seat). Earphones back in, waiting for the perfect song to make this the perfect moment. I'm so at peace.

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Flying over deserts now, still somewhere in Asia, the flight information on the little screen in front of me promises we're close to Xining, heading in the direction of Delhi, 8.5 hours still to go till London. Errrrrh!

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FINALLY, in London, only 3 more hours of flying left to get to Barcelona.

You're feet swell up when you fly, did you know?.