Everybody Wants To Rule The World – Tears For Fears
Harking back to my college days, oh what a lark, one thing that sticks out in my mind is texting girls on behalf of my friends. Not all the time, just some times, if they got stuck trying to woo a girl. Sometimes I still actually do it which might be a bit harsh on the unlucky girl – making her think my wit (or lack there of) is his wit and all that. I’ll get over it, I hope. Anyway, I was usually asked for help when a friend might want the girl to come out and meet him but she was leaning more towards staying in. Through my own means, I found one trick that almost always worked. The texting conversation might go as follows:
No, I think I’m staying in, have fun!
Ah come on, you should.
Just too tired, sorry!
Fair enough, I didn’t realise you were a Boring Bob.
I’m not boring!
I don’t know, Boring Bob… Come for a drink and prove me wrong!
Look. I was young. This was just something that worked more often than not. Not proud of these ways. I’m just telling a tale as an intro to a different tale, simply highlighting the birth of the wonderful name… Boring Bob. No one likes to be called boring. Not unless your self esteem is through the roof, obviously. Nowadays I’m fine but back in the day if you were to call me boring, the usual reply might be:
I’ll show you boring. *Grabs bottle of vodka. Chug. Dance. Wuu!* Told you so!!
Fooled by my own foolish trick.
That was then. Now that I am wiser-ish, I have realised that sometimes you actually need to be a bit of a Boring Bob. In fact, a full on Boring Bob. Like I am now. It’s the weird balance that I have yet to come close to pulling off: Having fun – Being productive. Either one or the other. Struggle to achieve both. By fun I probably mean gallivanting, boozing, dancing, out on the tiles, gibbering on! By productive I probably mean writing this third book, finishing off scripts, climbing up the work ladder, getting to where I want to be. Fun Frank. Boring Bob. Two sides to this GeminIrish coin. Right now, Bob is in full bloom. Off the booze. Keeping the head down. Getting work done. Productive. On!
However. Now that Bob is who I am, I have realised that, short term, being productive is very dry. At the end of every work week Friday night rears her beautiful head up. Come on, man, come dance with me. Put on your boozing boots. Let’s adventure on! Sorry Friday, I can’t. Must get work done. Plus I want to be fresh for Saturday to do more then. Saturday then jumps on the band wagon with Friday. Fair enough, you stayed in last night. Reward yourself with just a pint or two. Head to the pub. See what’s going on, it’ll be grand, just a quiet night out. Saturday, I adore you, but I’m going to say no again. On a roll. Going to do some more work Sunday too. Sunday is almost the worst for guilt tripping. Pretending to be your friend to coax you in… Another weekend booze free? Amazing. Proud of you. High five. Jesus, we’ve so much energy now. Good work! You know what, we should head to the pub for a look. Not a drink, just a look. Those fun people might be there. Probably not boozing but no harm if they are, you never know, you could join them for one. Day time booze. How does that sound, are we in? Sunday, you whure, leave me be. I’m going reading a book.
So there’s that. Talking to days and nights, as you do. I think perhaps being Boring Bob almost makes me go silently less sane. Working from home a lot. So it’s easy to wake up and work and then eat and work some more and then sleep and then wake up and repeat, rinse and recycle. Thinking, should I go out somewhere, get some fresh air? But to where? And why? Why not stay here and get the work done? Because you need some fresh air, right, isn’t that what everyone says? Plus, look, it’s a beautiful day, go, get out, live in the real world. So you decide to go for a Sunday stroll while on a break from work.
Not really sure where to go. A Sunday wander. But everything is so spread out in L.A it’s not really a good place to wander around. Empty streets. Coffee shops and rug stores. Already pumped to the gills on caffeine, obvious replacement for the booze intake. No need for rugs. This is crap wandering. I wonder what my friends are up to. Send out a few texts. She’s working. They’re at a furniture store. He’s in the pub. They’re out of the country. Haven’t seen him since he got engaged. He’s over in the Valley about to go gym. They’ll be boozing. Running out of options. Just keep on wandering. Solo Joe. Boring Bob. One and the same at times. I wonder if I should go for a drive instead. Somewhere outside the norm. No, no point driving around aimlessly. That’s just dumb. Plus, there’s the traffic. I know – I’ll stroll up to the bookshop up the road. Good idea. Destination at least. But. Actually. Didn’t you just buy a flurry of books from Amazon earlier? Hush, you feck, pretend that didn’t happen. We need somewhere to go that’s not a pub.
So that’s how I ended up a bookshop reading the start of books that are coming in the post. Fun day. For a Boring Bob. Some laugh. Makes for great blogs. Sunday night is now whispering to me to come join her. Maybe I will…
*Picks up cup of tea. Sips. Writes. Wuu!*
Frank off. Bob on!
(By the by, Book Three is coming along nicely. Nay rush. Slowly. Surely. Tap. Tap. Tap.)
Analog or Digital – Wildlife Control
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