A Waste Of Time

Saturday, August 27, 2005

First things first...

I wonder why I'm doing this?

Do I have anything significant to share with the world?
Or, at least interesting to share with other bloggers?

I think I started this because I was fascinated with the idea of reading other people's thoughts and experiences. The idea isn't necessarily revolutionary, but it's certainly something that has never been possible before. Before the internet, you could read other people's diaries, but it was considered bad form.

I suppose this is a little like legalised cannabis; legit, but slightly less exciting.

Then I thought, if I wanted to read other blogs, I should probably do my own. Do unto others, and all that.

So me then, in no particular order...

I'm the ripe old age of 22; eager; stupid; ginger; a medical student; part-time supermarket worker, full time idiot; easily amused, easily pleased; secretely bored/irritated by most people; good liar, bad sportman, moderate looker; gay; lover of trashy books, intelligent films, eating (generally); hater of loud people, pointless violence, fat people whingeing about being fat who neither exercise nor eat less (I'm ex-fat so I'm allowed to whinge about the whingers...), binge drinking, binge smoking, binge eating, binge student, binge stoner, binge binger.

(all these labels, all these boxes to tick)

Realised today, as I was standing in our near-empty pond bucketing out slime that had collected in the bottom, that I was standing in 10 years' worth of fish and duck shit. My dad had decided to lay a new black liner, as the water level in the pond had kept going down for a month, and I was the worker horse brought in to shovel shit. It came up to mid-shin level. Maybe 40 gallons of aquatic shit. I probably should've worn wellingtons.

I'd been thinking that I'd bring up my queerness whilst I was working with my dad. Nothing so exotic as coming out, as that had been done and dusted a few years earlier. But more, to try and get my dad to talk about it. He wasn't depressed/angry/whatever with me coming out. At least I don't think he was that depressed/angry/whatever because he hasn't mentioned the fact since. Hence me thinking about bringing it up.

I think I have a right to remain annoyed with him. Coming out's the hard part, all he has to do is inquire occasionally if I'm dating, or if I have my eye on someone. Until he does, I think I'll just continue to avoid his eyes, unless absolutely necessary. Or bring home a 6 foot black guy and have sex all night long in the room next to his.

That probably wouldn't help matters much though.

That'll do.

xxxxxxx

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