Inanimate Objects

I sometimes find myself talking to inanimate objects. Strange start to this post you say? Well it is quite, but then so are most habits people develop so I felt I should share one of mine.

Anyway, I sometimes find myself talking to inert objects. My computer, the cupboard door, my shoes, and… well—now that I come to think of it—anything, I suppose. Now I am sure that so many people do this countless times in a day, though I’m not sure many have stopped and thought, ‘Why did just address my assailant, (the cupboard door) as a dick, (a fucking dick no less) for simply being in the way of my stupid head when I stood up?’

So I pondered the reason for me addressing the innocuous object this way. In this case, I thought that maybe it was away to numb the pain. Personifying it would allow it to take partial blame for my stupidity.

It didn’t paint the whole picture. There was more too it than that. That reason was more of a byproduct. So I thought of it simpler.
It was then that I realized I use the same tone and inclination when addressing animals. That loose sheep bleating from the field, that yappy dog jumping up from your heels, the chirping birds in the trees…

I realized I am challenging them to respond. Daring them to communicate with me and in doing so allow me to empathize with them. How good would that be? Telling your cupboard door to get out of the way when your head was approaching and never hitting your head again. Telling your shoelace to stop coming undone and tripping you up and it listening! Telling your dog to fetch your shoes and not drool on them…

To be honest I’m not sure why I am considering posting this drivel. Maybe it’s because I have just hit my head on a cupboard door and shouting at it didn’t achieve anything…


With a splitting headache,

Victor

A Journey

Dear empty space, empty chair, empty room,

Often-times I talk about how I detest transition. I love the start of things; the initial bright idea and the reward I feel at the end, when an idea is brought through to conclusion, speaks for itself. However, the actual journey... I find myself saying that I hate it.

I crave the feeling of purpose; the excitement of starting a new adventure. The feeling of joy when you are thrust into an opportunity, but the hard bit—the actual travel part. The transition... I tell myself, unilaterally, that I can’t stomach it.

I reach the point in the journey where I can’t see the end past the horizon and I falter. I look for other ways out. Ways that take less effort, ‘the path of least resistance.’ I long for the transitional journey that will give me the energy and reward of inception and completion without the arduous trudge between the two.

Now I just find myself thinking, ‘Why do I hate it? What is so wrong with transition?’ and I surmise that it is just a phobia of the journey itself, an irrational fear of being in the middle of a journey with no sight of the end and no way to retreat to the start. I also start to understand that the journey would not be a journey without the effort required to surmount these difficulties and that the reward at the end would not be so sweet without them either.

Someone once told me to make sure that I never let myself off the hook. Never-the-less; that is what I do. I get to the middle of a journey and try to find ways to avoid it. Tell myself that I will continue on that path another day. Needless to say, I should not do this and neither should you. I should stop making excuses for why I don’t or won’t do something or I will start getting bored of life because isn’t that all it is? Journey upon journey; transition after transition and I should embrace that and so should you. I shouldn’t let myself get bogged down by the fear of the journey and just get on with the hard work of completing it. Once I realise this I could find that I am not that far from the end at all, one more burst and my journey could be complete and I’ll be ready for another.

I’m talking of many journeys here; the everyday journey of learning something new, where the start fills you with purpose and the end fills you with achievement. A journey where neither the start nor the end would feel as triumphant if it was not for the struggle in between. I am talking about the journey of having an idea and having the courage to take it all the way. Everyone is on a journey and they may be nearly done or they may have just begun, either way they are still on their journey and I ask you now, as a closing sentiment, ‘What journey are you on? And are you really charging headlong into it, or are you letting yourself of the hook?’

Yours, on a journey

Victor Blemish