Above Average


If I stood still, hands in pocket, thumbs peeking beguilingly, then you’d think me a normal enough guy. You know – kinda average in a white-guy-sort-of-a-way. And I guess I am.

But beneath the hood, under my skin, I’m actually above average.

Here are three things I’m above average at:

  1. Being me
  2. Erm …
  3. Okay, that didn’t work.

Actually, what I’m trying to claim to be is statistically better than more of the population than less of the population. And yeah, when I think about it – what I’m saying makes as much sense as that last sentence, which I hope you didn’t spend too long puzzling over.

Obviously you made it here, so you must have either got it in the end, moved on without understanding, or (horror of horrors) given up reading altogether, in which case – you’re a figment of my imagination – a non-existent reader.

Okay, I need to get away from that line of thought because if you are reading this then you do exist and any discussion about your non-existence is moot (love that word) and if you don’t exist then there’s no point in talking to you. Except that I’m not really talking to anyone yet, apart from myself, and there’s no real point in doing that because:

  1. I already know all the things that I could say and
  2. I’m not really listening because I’m busy talking – duh!

Did I really just duh myself? Yep, I guess I did. I should reprimand myself for being disrespectful I guess, but I’m not really that kind of a guy. I’m pretty laid back actually.

I can’t get beyond the feeling that someone is reading these words (apart from me as I do this edit). I can feel you tickling the back of my mind as I type. You are probably female. Probably intelligent. Probably rather attractive. Probably energetic. Probably clinically insane.

Actually, I just threw the last one in for effect.

I do things for effect.

I realised yesterday that I do too many things for effect.

Yesterday, there came upon me the realisation that I am alienating everyone that ever knew me and am preparing to alienate everyone who might ever want to know me. It was quite a sobering thought. You see, the thing is – I’m above average in all sorts of things, which means that I could be a successful … person. But I’m not. Not really. I’m just getting by. I’m just keeping my head down and, well, just coasting really.

With my looks, intelligence and charm – I could really shine. With my personality – I’m killing myself. Let’s be honest about this – I’m crushing down any advantages my abilities ever gave me with my tendency to be caustic and cutting.

And another thing that’s not helping me is my habit of walking away. This kills any chance I have of forming anything like a stable set of relationships with the people around me.

Okay, I think I’ll stop there. If I carry on, I know that I’ll dig myself out of the existential hole I’ve planted myself in. I’ll do this by reminding myself that I have choices, and that I’m above average in all sorts of things, and that I’ll change, and that tomorrow will be better, and that maybe, just maybe, someone will read this and have the balls and the ability to help me. But …

*sighs and starts to think about tags to add to these words*

The Way You Make A Me Feel

Blue Cheese

Seems to me that it’s not what you say, or even the way that you say it that gets results, it’s the way that you make people feel after you’ve said it.

Many people think the key to success in interpersonal communication is to say informative things in an interesting or entertaining way. But it seems that there’s more to it than that.

You can tell your audience (or family, or friends) the most fascinating things in the world, but that don’t mean a damn to them if you don’t make them feel good in the process.

Tell them the moon is made of blue cheese, and prove it with endless formulae, unimpeachable experimental data but chances are they might only remember you until the next big thing comes along.

However – make them feel like dancing all night from the free samples of blue cheese flavoured emotions, or have them singing your praises at the top of their lungs by virtue of your full-moon silvered feelings and you will light up their hearts and be remembered until … well, maybe until mid next week!

What more could you want than that? 🙂

Oh. You want to know how to do that? Ah, okay. Then just let me read some more of this here book (It’s Not What You Say, It’s the Way You Say It! – Michael Parker) and as soon as I’ve got to that part, I’ll let you know more.

In the middle of writing this, I went on a call with my team. Part of that involved all team members introducing themselves to the rest of us. By the time I had finished talking about myself, several of the team members were laughing. I regarded this as a success because they ended up feeling happy. Maybe they’ll remember me fondly for that. Let’s see.

My Childhood Trauma

My parents divorced when I was as old as nineteen, so I probably can’t blame that for the way I am. I was a late developer, so chances are I was still a child. But I left to go into the big-bad-beast we call the-world all the same, so I must have been kinda grown up.

I get the feeling that I was an unplanned child, so I can probably claim that as trauma. The feeling itself might not be based on fact (although my parents were quite young when I came along and I can’t seem to figure out whether they married before or after I was conceived), but the fact that I am feeling them is reason enough to call myself traumatised. I guess.

Was I beaten? No. I was cuffed around the head a few times, but I wouldn’t call it a sustained attack. I was as naughty as any child, I guess. Although, on reflection, it didn’t feel like naughty. It all felt normal from the inside. But then again – doesn’t it always? I guess I was upset because I wanted the rights of an adult as a child. I didn’t want to feel ‘wrong’ just because the ‘right’ person was bigger than me.

Was I starved? No. I ate as much as I needed to eat. There was always food. I was given access to too much sugar and it probably made me hyperactive (which probably looked like ‘naughty’ to my parents). Choices. I always had choices. I don’t remember being forced to eat anything that I didn’t want to eat.

Was I abused? Prolly not. I have some gaps, but I hesitate to fill them with abuse. That’s an unknown for me. There has to be something that made me the way I am (kinda friable). But I think that it’s a mistake to go looking for easy-answers.

Childhood trauma seems to be largely absent from my life … and actually, adult trauma seems to be rare too. So what’s going on inside me, then! Does everyone feel confused about how the world works?

Racial Discrimination in Games

I want to start a campaign for the rights of game players to be treated equally on the basis of the skin colour, body size, gender choices they make vis-à-vis the characters they choose to use.

Or looked at in a different way – I think that characters in games should not be treated differently on the basis of how they look and act.


Man, are we a strange set of creatures, or what?! Do you think that it is possible that, as souls, we choose the bodies we take up in this corporeal realm?

(… and this whole thing was inspired by my (possibly erroneous) understanding of this post: https://grimmgirl.com/2017/04/26/psa-pokeninja90-lita-kino-and-i-are-getting-ready-for-the-owls-april-livestream/)


It’s kind of ironic that I started to write because I wanted to get away from reading so much. I find, though, that the only way to get people to read my stuff is to read their (your) stuff. I guess the trick is to not be bothered whether anyone reads what I write.

Or maybe I could try writing stuff that’s more interesting.

What are you interested in?

(note to self – retract head from ass)

Something Meaningful

These three things can change your life today. Have courage. Do one of them now. Wait for one hour then do the next. Give it another hour and then do the third.

Here goes …

Number One – go somewhere special, put a big smile on your face then jump up and down as many times as it takes whilst shouting “I am Love!!” three times at the top of your lungs

Number Two – get yourself a brand-new note – one that would buy you a cheap sandwich toaster, find a stranger who looks quite well off, walk up to them, smile, hand over the money and then walk off without saying a word (and no – you can’t give them your old sandwich toaster instead)

Number Three – sit yourself down somewhere comfortable, wrap your arms around yourself, stroke your back fondly and promise yourself an early night (and then, at the end of your day – stick to your word).

If, for any reason, you can’t do any of those things – you have yourself a beautiful day. 🙂

Blue Skies

Out All Day

Been out all day talking to people and so I’ve nothing much to say. It’s odd (or maybe it isn’t) how other people interrupt the flow of my own thoughts. What’s that all about?

And that’s all he wrote.