There are some who live their lives outside cyberworld and there are others who only truly live in cyberworld. Then there are others who live in their heads. I used to spend hours and hours in the computer lab; I knew the security guards by name and freely gave them Mars and Lion chocolate bars. In return, they refrained from laughing too hard as I crossed the campus threshold once again dressed in bedroom slippers and a giant T-shirt with "OINK"and a very pink pig screaming fashion faux paux to anyone who bothered looking. My student accomodation was just across the wonderful FWB building that housed my loyal friend, the 24/7 PAWS room also known as the computer lab. Armed with chocolate bars to sustain me and sushi during those months I needed more brain boosting power, I think the only place I invested more time in was my bed. Yet, the few hours I am awake are spent zinging back and forth, doing everything needed in a quarter of the time, before collapsing into a giggly heap, wasted on adrenaline, whilst eating peanut butter out of a jar.
Now-a-days I spend less time blogging and more time thinking or sometimes I think whilst I blog. I ask questions that many of my friends consider as important as peanut butter, meaning not important at all, and yet at night, these are the questions that form the bulk of my dreams and the way I see the world. I go to bed wondering and I wake up puzzling but still Rubik's cube refuses to fall into place. If anything, the more I try twist and turn and apply logic to it, the more absurd it looks. Like jelly that refuses to solidify or jelly that would rather commit mass suicide by breaking out of the mould in clumps than present itself at an opportune time, so this world, ruled by Murphy and forever late taxis, shuns itself.
What on earth does all that have to do with peanut butter? I don't know. I know I like it and that my housemate has just bought me a bag of Reeses Peanut Buter cups to add to my peanut butter collection of Kit Kats and ice cream. I suppose that was the main thing I wanted to say but it seemed like such a waste of space to just say that. I just love talking abut Me. Me! Me! Me! Look at me! But I can laugh at myself too and in a world of political correctness and people who increasingly fail to laugh at themselves, it is endearing to be able to say, "Yes I am flawed," but in order to say that, I've got to talk about myself and round and round it goes.