This Aint Even Funny

For several days now i've been thinking of writing a blog post. But i always put it off. If i were to postulate an explanation i would have to say that i don't write about it so i don't have to think about it. because that's what writing has always been for me; a way of mulling things over, a way of digesting them and piecing together my thoughts, of concluding as to why i feel how i feel and the actions to take from thereafter.

The original title of the post was supposed to be "This aint even funny." It's been a recuring theme throughout the past few years and stems from a song by The Streets; Prangin' Out. This aint even funny, to me, is when you reach a point where you can't even laugh at yourself. But not in a humerous fashion. Because many of the things in life that happen aren't humerous but they are still fucking halarious. In a very, very, dry british way. Being dumped is fucking halarious; you'd never, however, laugh at someone if they had been. You'd laugh if their life was completely seperate from your own and you were being told a story from a friend of a friend, or through the television screen via the social phenomina that is Eastenders. It would be halarious then. And as long as that very dry humour is still present, things are funny. It's when, as Mike Skinner so articulates states; "this aint even funny" that you start to get worried. It becomes so serious that you can not even laugh at yourself. Because the trough has become so deep that even you, in your deepest self, know that things have become serious.

Anyway, the point of this is that it has not come to the point where it aint even funny. But, to be brutally honest, it's nearer than it ever has been for a while. It may well be very close. And i'm a bit of a mess. But it comes and goes. About 85% of the time i'm fine, it's just the rest that i worry about.

So, i think i should talk to someone. But it's having the ability to accept the reality of the situation, to escape from this university bubble and step out into the cold harsh reality of it all. Of accepting that i may have though i was better, wholly and completely, but in truth; i may not be.

Is anyone ever better?

The mean is a mathematical concept, it has no real bearing in reality. The mean is an amalgamation of statistics that vary greatly, it has a formulea applied to it and WHAM. There you go sir. You are offically abnormal. But how? When normal is simply a concept with no real bearing in reality? This is not the point though, and, whilst living in this university bubble, i can not really comment on the concreteness of reality.

I will try and write more. It does help to order things slightly, even if it is about and abstract concept and not human interaction. Ha. "Authentic human contact" is what our early experience sessions are. Mint.

Oh, and for the record, i came out to my mum on Friday, 31st October 2008. Via text message.