Top of the mountain to yer!
What makes us human?
If an alien asked that question to a dozen different people on the planet, he’d probably shake his head (assuming he had one and assuming he was even a he) in confusion and go home. It’s rare that you get a simple straight answer to that question. People have different views on what it means. Maybe what makes us human is our never-ending ability to confuse the hell out of ourselves and everything around us.
I’ve thought about this question a lot recently (for reasons that will become clear shortly) and one word keeps coming back to me.
Stories.
To me, what makes every human being the same are the stories we tell each other. The good ones last long after we’ve died, and even the not-so-good ones tend to get passed down and around for a long while. We tell stories every day without even realising it. From the moment we wake up to the moment we close our eyes and go to sleep, stories permeate every aspect of our day. You get the story of how you accidentally set fire to a fence when asked to temporarily take over a BBQ whilst your friend nipped to the loo. There’s your Dad’s story of how you he met your Mum randomly whilst temporarily taking over as a ranger at a shooting club. There’s your friend’s story of how she wandered into a bondage trade fair whilst looking for a Starbucks… stories are everywhere, and even if they seem trivial or simple, they define who we are each and every moment of our lives.
What’s the point of all my ramblings?
I’ve been struggling the past month to write for myself. To write what I want to write. It isn’t writer’s block (which I think is nonsense anyway – all writers are inherently lazy until we kick ourselves up the arse to write), and it isn’t down to illness. It is due to too much happening externally that has barely given me time to catch my breath let alone sit down and write.
In short, 4 separate pieces of bad news were delivered to me on a weekly basis over the past month, mostly involving people dying or becoming seriously ill. 1 piece of bad news you can handle. 2 are pushing it. 3…well okay, but that’s enough for now. 4…well that’s me off to get plastered in the pub. There’s been a lot of rushing around, changing work schedules, helping out where possible and trying to sleep in between all of it. I know people have appreciated the efforts I and so many others have made to help which is nice…but none of us are looking for sympathy or praise. Anyone would do exactly the same thing in the same situation…unless you’re a dick in which case I can’t help you.
All of this has led to me thinking a lot about how much we complain about the little things in life, (the tube, the traffic, the leaking roof, how hard work is, how noisy the kids are, how annoying that neighbour is, and why does that bloke running the corner shop never change his shirt? Doesn’t he know he smells like rotten brie?). They don’t mean much compared to the things that do really matter; friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, sisters, brothers…you get the gist. A lot has changed for me and it’s been hard to articulate exactly how I feel about all these changes, and to be honest I don’t think it’s even worth the effort in trying right now.
So why am I bothering you will all this? You want to hear about what’s been going on in my writer life! What amazing accomplishments have I made this month? What projects am I working on? I can tell you if you like (editing a book, blogging, running a business, having my website upgraded), but the truth is I have done not very much to enhance my presence in the literary world the past month. Extenuating circumstances may be responsible, but they’re not an excuse. I needed myself to know that I haven’t forgotten about my writing. Despite all the upheaval, pain and tragedy bordering on farcical, I haven’t forgotten about the writing or you – my readers present and future.
No matter how low you feel or how tired you get, sometimes the terrible things that happen serve to remind us of the important things in our lives. For me I can list the important things on three fingers (order interchangeable): my writing, my friends and my family…well…the ones that are still alive that is. (Forgive a bloke his dark sense of humour)
An old friend told me last week “Well s**t happens, but the wheel never stops turning mate.”
He’s right…annoyingly.
THIS WEEK’S FUN FREEBIE
These always make me laugh, but this one got me cackling as I’ve always found the allure of “Les Miserables” confounding!
