Oh You Sneaky Devil

This blog nonsense is difficult, I'm not going to lie. (I'll just confirm for you, I'll lie from time to time, but that's for your own good). I can't keep anything regular of these sorts, particularly because as much as I talk about myself, I can't do it to myself - which is what blogging is in essence unless others begin to read.

So I'll tell you - the reader, the spy, the possible giraffe - that I have been busy. I'll then contradict by saying I have been wasting time playing a certain video game. Now I'll stop stalling. Today has been another of those days that dwindles past yet something has told me that "You know what, this day achieved a little." And that little was in the form of narrative progression (Yes! I say. What? You ask).

I fear right now that my writing still has a manic sense of nonsense. An erratic frame of an aimless mind. I apologise in advance and I'm trying to fix this. The thoughts are coming and I'm trying to focus on the correct ones whilst allowing the others time to mature in the waiting room before setting them free to create havoc.

And so off the tangental road I tell you that where I left off was this idea of a new narrative. The whole set of books (starting at nine to create my great trilogy, don't ask) are all stand-alone stories and hold meaning and morals by themselves. As a whole they create an outlook on life as a whole, each holding onto aspects of humanity and each portraying different ups and downs. Now the first book originally was completely based around a character once only known as Optimism. He later became Christopher [Insert Surname]. Now he continues by this alias but more has developed. I know a lot about his backstory and his future, so much so as to think he is worthy of a novel. But I couldn't decide how to tell it. At first I wrote three chapters from his perspective, jumping straight into his mind and giving the reader first-class crazy, erratic, and verging on insane as he made comments on the simple things in life and flipped them on their insignificant heads. But my problem was that the reader thought his storytelling too unreal, that it was impossible to decide what was really happening and what he was prancing about in unreality. And so I was unsure how to keep the reader hooked apart from the strange sense of a new wave of surreal.
Today, after a series of thoughts jumping from my peanut bobbler postal worker to my newly-acquired (thank you, Albert!) 100 year diary, I decided that perhaps Christopher was not the main character in the traditional sense. Perhaps this was about someone else finding his life and learning it. I think what I see now is that his never-ending optimism (don't worry, it does all make sense, but I can't tell you why) would affect the character reading it. Possibly what I have here is the simple 'troubled man finds new meaning to his life' story. I suppose it's not a superb leap of storytelling, but I think for the project at hand (remember I said 9 books?) a simple start may not be such a bad idea.

You Have Spikes On Your Back

So after all the various annoyances of the day combining into an unhappy me, I finally found the moment and sight that relieved everything. After all the idiocies of a co-worker, the mind-numbing seven hour shift proceeding, and the general altercations of what keeps us unsure about our lives, I walked home from a friend’s house at half past eleven in the evening to see a beautiful thing.

Something scurried across the quiet road and I wasn’t quite sure whether it was a strange looking cat or a lost squirrel, perhaps. But it had no tail, so it seemed. My vision of it was void at the point it disappeared behind a lamp post, but I kept on walking to pass the obstacle and I saw it, frozen beside a wall, tiny and unique. A hedgehog, staring at my feet. I stopped and I crouched down to meet its level, within reason, and we stared at each other for a while.

I cared little for whether anyone was watching, I said hello. I asked the little thing, with fear in its eyes, what it was afraid of, but all it could do was keep in its one position and stare at me. I was looking deep into the tiny eyes of this animal, and I was calm.

I understood that it didn’t matter what was going on for me. No matter how useless I felt, or how unfortunate I believed I was, that hedgehog had a harder life than me. And at that point it was probably scared to lose what it had. Not daring to even breathe it would only stare, until the monster that stood before it would walk on.

So I stood up and I started to go home again, continuously looking back at the creature that I had shared something with; an embrace of thought. Each time I looked back, although I was further away, it had not moved an inch. For all I know, sitting here right now, it could still be at that same spot. Too afraid to move on yet, in case I return.

There’s something beautiful about animals. I don’t think you can love anyone until you have experienced the love of an animal. I mean this in the unconditional way that you never ask anything of them but will always be there to keep them cared for. Sometimes I wonder if that language barrier we have is such a bad thing.

I got home and Big G was there to greet me – his tail wagging erratically – and he came outside as though to go for a pee-walk. We went around the usual way and he didn’t pee once, just plodded on a little and circled and we came back. He was happy to do it, and I was happy simply to allow him his little freedom. I don’t know if anything was truly gained from the experience, but I would go for the walk again without question even if nothing was to gain. Maybe all of this means nothing, it’s possible that I don’t understand anything that’s happening these days, but what I’m trying to say is that sometimes even with everything that stresses and frustrates us with everyday life, there is a balance within the unlikely speechless nature of animals to nurture our souls and keep us breathing steadily.

Just look into their eyes from time to time, try and see them staring and thinking, because every now and then you might just think they are as human as yourself.