There is nothing to fear but goth clowns.
Napoleon said "There are two levers for moving men. Interest and fear."
I, unfortunately, seem to be moved almost wholly by the latter. Fear is this odd thing for me. Fear is a clueless train conductor.
If you can imagine, I usually feel like life is being in a train station that I've never been to before. You want to go somewhere new and exciting and pleasant so you ask your nearest conductor what train you need. They scratch their head and point vaguely at the nearest standing train. You hop on, all is well. You watch the scenery go past, look at the pretty sunset, realise it's getting darker but no worries, you'll be at your new exciting place soon! But then a message comes over the public address system and tells you that no, you're not on the right train at all. You've been lead astray. You are heading somewhere new but it's not the nice, pleasant place you wanted to be in but instead you're off to somewhere a little frayed at the edges, dirty, dusty and filled with people who leer at you when you pass, probably hoping that their evil staring will send you into some kind of anxiety driven coma so they can steal your wallet. There's no way off and there are no stops between. You've just got to wait and accept the eventual fate that you now know that is all because you blindly followed your clueless train conductor. You know, somewhere like Fratton.
Just a thought that occurred. This message was brought to you with a mixture of tiredness and lethargy. Tune in next week when I'll be talking about how surprise is much like the local newsagent.
I, unfortunately, seem to be moved almost wholly by the latter. Fear is this odd thing for me. Fear is a clueless train conductor.
If you can imagine, I usually feel like life is being in a train station that I've never been to before. You want to go somewhere new and exciting and pleasant so you ask your nearest conductor what train you need. They scratch their head and point vaguely at the nearest standing train. You hop on, all is well. You watch the scenery go past, look at the pretty sunset, realise it's getting darker but no worries, you'll be at your new exciting place soon! But then a message comes over the public address system and tells you that no, you're not on the right train at all. You've been lead astray. You are heading somewhere new but it's not the nice, pleasant place you wanted to be in but instead you're off to somewhere a little frayed at the edges, dirty, dusty and filled with people who leer at you when you pass, probably hoping that their evil staring will send you into some kind of anxiety driven coma so they can steal your wallet. There's no way off and there are no stops between. You've just got to wait and accept the eventual fate that you now know that is all because you blindly followed your clueless train conductor. You know, somewhere like Fratton.
Just a thought that occurred. This message was brought to you with a mixture of tiredness and lethargy. Tune in next week when I'll be talking about how surprise is much like the local newsagent.