a further intro to the intro

I'm at home this weekend(this intro is very patricia williams by the way), eating pringles and perfecting my slob persona. i can't bring myself to study, so i've taken instead to surfing music channels and checking my hotmail once every half hour for updates. this would be an effective use of time if it weren't for the fact that only two people have my hotmail address and both are away from their computers this weekend.

i did begin a prayer for owen meany yesterday on my train and bus journey home so i'm not completely absolved from mind usage this weekend. the volumes of coke i am drinking might change that though. the christian references throughout the book are causing two distinct reactions. one is a guilty sensation beginning in the stomach and working its way up to the conscience, stemming from the reminder of how little scripture I've read in my short lifetime. i am still very reluctant to give up the catholic 'tag' despite the fact the pews in my 'local' have not been graced/dammed with my presence in a very long time, and i don't know where my bible is. nor do i care, unless it is 2 am and my mind is racing with the thought of actually having to go to sleep.

going to sleep means having to wake up, which seems a pointless activity to me. why do something so you can return to doing what you were doing before the act?sleep tends to make me tired. returning to the original reflection i was attempting to make, that book-like all other literature, encouraged me to think. you see, thinking really means 'confronting'. i had to confront the fact the book evoked in me a strong urge to be schmaltzy with my friends and family. schmaltzy? i don't know what that means but it is very American Bronx isn't it?you could imagine some mafia members over an Italian supper fiddling with their guns, and when one member mentions his 'chick', another snarling a heavily accented 'none of that schmaltz'. the snarl would come from a hat tipped face shrouded in darkness.

in Ireland(not that that corresponds with being more logical according to the 1970s oxford dictionary) i believe i mean closely tied to, or affectionate. literature(just some kinds) always reminds me of my own mortality(yes that again). Although literature(read widely-Ann rule is literature to me) always scares and delights me both at once. art makes me feel ecstatic, but also dreadfully scared. my mind(and often my mouth too)starts uttering fears of general incompetence, envy that i cannot write like the 'greats' and fear that unlike the 'greats' i am going to disappear into obscurity.

of course i could just watch 'it's a wonderful life' again, any fears could be brushed away into the fire ashes once more. I could console myself with thoughts of all the lives i have touched, even when it seemed insignificant to me. like the time i allowed somebody to walk through the door of castlecourt shopping centre before me, and by doing that i inadvertently saved their life. due to their further existence, they managed something spectacular and won a Nobel prize. due to my manners, i could be accredited in some small way to this greatness.

i suppose it does sound good. but deep down, the ambition in me is crying out for a task to carry out. it is the bird that Emily Dickinson calls hope, only in my soul the bird is a vulture known as ego.

speaking of ego, i am reminded of what was a life defining moment for me. like all life defining moments not involving self induced epiphanies, mine came about by interaction with another person. it was a turning point. for a couple of years i was a scared feminist, but this 'moment' made me want to be what some people call some women. 'bolshy'. I'm guessing it means fun and fearless (thanks cosmopolitan), and for the purposes of this blog this is exactly what it means. there is no subsequent female, i like my words genderless. to say bolshy female suggests two things. one is that there are no bolshy men, and the other, that female alone cannot imply fun and fearless. bolshy sounds like something a cushion would be, and i like my cushions to bounce back up when sat on.

i will detail this next blog, and will sign off with a quote taken from a 'schmaltzy' book of wisdom

"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams!live the life you've imagined!"
Thoreau