An early riser, but one must be when there are so many decisions to deliberate over throughout the day. Just not enough time. Firstly, upon waking up the decision of which breakfast. Will today require a high fibre breakfast, or will a quick morning coffee do? These decisions just the tip of the iceberg, but better to limit the options to these two choices. Next, clothes. So, the shirt, classic white – yes that’ll do. Actually, burgundy could work. Yes, burgundy, some nice light chinos, shoes (the only pair available… easy decision there). Done. Alright, nearly there. Now to get ready… DAMN, late again. Forgot to choose boxers and socks… great, better just call in sick.
The curse of negativity. It can turn a beautiful sentiment from one, to suspicion of ulterior motives… a shame. This poison can infect any happy go lucky individual – a beautiful sunny day, sullied by the constant knit-picking of every insignificant detail which isn’t quite perfect. Enjoying the moment almost impossible for the individual who can only see through the eyes of negativity. A clear path to a life painted with a tinge of grey, the dark cloud a constant presence. Why is nothing ever perfect? Why can life never go my way? The ability to enjoy and compromise inhibited by the mind. Fleeting moments of pure happiness lost, as the constant quest to find flaws in everything has become a way of life. Dependant on a daily mix of alcohol and drugs, attempting to maintain the facade of a joyous go getter… is any one being fooled by this?
The whistle of the wind fills this house. The eery echo of silence resonates throughout. The floorboards creek as the journey necessary to brew a comforting hot cup of tea is embarked upon. Boil the water, place the tea bag in the mug, pour the boiled water, add milk – a simple task. The kettle coming to boil causes a shudder, boiling water everywhere! I must get back to the bedroom, something isn’t right. Rain starts to fall, a rhythmic contemptuous taunt, masking tonight’s true occurrence. The boiling water has started to cool… almost unnaturally quickly. There is now a distinct chill, I shiver and reach for the blanket. Wait. Where did the blanket go? It was here, there is always a blanket kept on this particular chair. I’m not alone…
The weather, a big influence in the way we live, from our sleeping habits, to eating habits, to shopping habits. Should I buy that coat? “Will I really use it, summer is just around the corner”. Such thoughts may occupy our mind, whilst trying to perform what should be the simplest of tasks… spending money. A cold harsh, British day/night can inspire the laziness within each of us, with the large majority opting to stay inside, a nice takeaway and TV awaits. This rather than endure the cold… can you blame them? The weather has the ability to mold certain cultures, the Mediterranean way of life, a midday heat induced siesta, and making up for these lost hours through increased activity in what the British would call sleepy time. Most of us complain about the weather wherever we may be in the world, from the Spanish complaining about the heat, to the British moaning of the cold, unpredictability and rain. One cultural habit we all share… we all moan about ‘the bloody weather’.
Taste is special in many foods, a significant draw of course to what we choose to grace our pallets. A satisfying meal, a combination of savoury and sweet has the ability to send all of us into a calm tranquility. However, food transcends taste and the ability to fill that hole in our stomachs. At times a rallying cry can be heard from the stomach, signalling to the brain, WE NEED FOOD.
The transcendence of food, is one which goes hand in hand with the psychological idea of cue dependency, in which it is said that we have certain cues for specific memories. Whenever the smell of fresh lasagne is in the air, I am taken back to Itlay, and the fond memories of visiting my grandfather who has sadly since past. But, that food, the smell and the atmosphere it brings, keeps those memories alive. To many people food holds these types of memories, a plate of food means something different to everyone. Memories in bowl, or an emotional connection to a distant past served on a plate. It is not just the taste which makes food great.
Today we escape through imaginary worlds, staring into a box of fiction, in order to escape the mundane realism of the 9-5 drag. A set routine, with any sponitaniety wasted on the choice between brown toast or white, porridge or coco pops (for those who dare defy such social parameters), in order to reminisce upon a childhood that seems a distant memory. The bus journey eased along by music, briefly lifting the mood, till a fellow commuter looks over in distain at the fact someone on the bus is exhibiting signs of life. Have we progressed as a society and race?
When we look in the mirror, we see everything, the world around us as usual, but also ourselves. Mirrors are extremely useful, we use them when driving, doing make-up and many more things. Now to me, these are scary objects, they seem to show cars driving for us from behind, but what really freaks me out is the clown that’s always standing behind me … nice fella though I’m sure.