Posted by: docdenbow | April 7, 2014

And It Makes Me Wonder

Dad's Weird Dream

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Something occurred to me the other day. I’m weird. That’s what occurred to me. I got to wondering if we’re all weird or is it just me? Is it just me that thinks I’m weird or does everyone think I’m weird? There are not many people who cross my path that I think are weird, maybe I instinctively avoid them or maybe I’m lucky. I’m not talking about window licking weird I’m talking about……..well you know weird. There are people with thoughts and opinions that are odd to me and odd to those who condescend to discuss the weirdness of another. Mind you they may think that the weirdo is in fact weird. They may think that I’m weird and are just agreeing with me as it’s easier to pacify a weirdo by letting them bang on about the weirdness of others rather than to make an intellectual challenge on the subject, the concept.

Weirdness? Is that a quantifiable concept?

Don’t know.

For all that where is the line drawn between weirdness and plain and simple eccentricity? I honestly don’t think that I’m eccentric, unbalanced maybe but not eccentric. I think I’m weird, on the weird scale near the bottom but still I have one foot on the ladder of weirdness. Do I hold my weirdness in check because of peer pressure and the way I’ve been brought up? Does it hold me back, making me unable to fly free, so to speak? Is that what, on occasions, makes my head spin with obsession and unrealistic ambition – unrealistic because I do nothing to bring the ambition to fruition?

Conversely am I normal in wishing something would happen yet secure in the depressing knowledge that nothing ever will? Is it a tale of unrequited ambition where a weirdo looks around and mourns for lost opportunities and mourns the death of his own ambition? Maybe, yet although I mourn the death of my ambition, my lack of desire and drive, I’m lucky that in the distant spring of my younger days that ambition burned bright although little of it has been realised.

I’m rapidly arriving at the conclusion that if I was true to myself then the weirdo that lurks deep within would surface and the consequences would perhaps allow the old ambition to be rekindled. The ambition that I had was for success, but success on my terms. Not success in terms of money or status or prestige, but finding something that I want to do and doing it and doing it well. However, if I want to find and do that thing that will give me my success I know that I have to let the weirdness out and also learn discipline. I will also need to change my mindset and focus on what I want and what I wish to achieve.

“Yeah, yeah yeah Den, heard it all before. Why don’t you just shut up and do it? Do it for the fun, jump in the pool, you can swim and the water won’t be as cold as you think.”

“The thing is I haven’t been in pool in years…”

“So? A bit at a time. You used to swim all the time and play football. You were a member of the snooker team as well and didn’t you start to write that book thing in 1999? Why did you stop doing all those things, eh? ”

“I’m too old now to play football…and well the pool I went to has closed. The snooker stopped me having a few pints and the computer crashed and took my book thing with it.”

“Okay, you ARE too old to play football now. You live within 2 miles of the National Pool of Wales, you don’t drink anymore so snooker isn’t out of the question and you’d printed off your entire book before the computer crashed! You make way too many excuses, Den.”

“Yes, well….”

“Anyway, I wasn’t being literal when I mentioned jumping in the pool, but you really do need to get off your arse and do something, fatty. You’re getting really boring whingeing on about the same thing over and over. We’ve heard it all before.”

I suppose that is the problem, if you think you’ve heard it all before, try living in my head. It’s cluttered and crowded in there with half baked ideas, notions and grandiose plans. There’s so much going on and fighting for attention it’s almost impossible to prioritize what I want to do; and because there’s so much in there it’s easier to ignore the lot than it is to sort any of it out. As well as that entire cluttered, hoarder, messy mind there’s the problem that I’m probably far too concerned with what people think.

English: portrait of Alan Bennett

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In terms of writing, I have three (yuk bleurgh) novels I’ve started to write. I’ve banged out a few mini short stories and have written a couple of Alan Bennett style monologues and have never stuck with any of them. My big problem is that initially I find the words tumbling from my head, through my fingers and onto the screen. When it starts to get hard and I need to think or work at it, I just consign it all to a folder in My Documents called “Work In Progress.”

Right now I’m trying to plan out my latest futile effort at writing a book. This one is a detective story. I absolutely guarantee that I’ll get completely and utterly fed up of writing it when I have written about 8,000 cliché ridden words. I’ll use so much so much nervous energy and bore so many people senselessly wittering on about my latest work that I’ll probably end up having a mini breakdown and slump into depressive gloom encore une fois. I’ll ride roughshod over polite enquiries about my other literary attempts that I’ve drip drip dripped into their minds like water boarding in Guantanamo Bay.

It’s not just writing delusions that I have. I spent hard earned ££££ buying a Zoom MRS-8 home studio. Have I used it? Simple answer is that it could be faulty for all I know – it’s still in the box it came in. I bought that when I thought that I would spend time recording my inept guitar playing and try to get creative. I bought a semi posh camera that remains in its case. Get it? I flit from thing to thing and never stick to anything.

“Aye, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:”

Is being a dreamer such a calamity? I dream of a summer house where I can sit to write and play my guitar. I dream of swimming in the waves at Rhossili. I do dream, I dream so much. If I have a long life then I must fill what’s left with experience, contentment and satisfaction and leave nothing undone.

Ciao For Now,


Enhanced by Zemanta


  1. Just being curious, do you enjoy the planning part?

    • Absolutely!

      However, there is a but and it’s a biggie.

      I very rarely plan ANYTHING that I write, I just get an idea and BANG! off I go. I think that’s why I burn out the ideas so quickly and flit on and on and on to other things. Writing this blog (even if it’s full of crap) I find easy enough as I just wing it and if it turns out well then, great. If it turns out so-so that’s ok, but if I think it’s rubbish then I may leave it and rewrite the idea but never plan it out!


      you can see some of my half arsed attempts at “fiction” @

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: