Don’t Call It A Comeback

James Proclaims (4)

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It is the 18th November, which quite possibly means that Christmas is nearly upon us. It also means that I haven’t troubled the blogosphere for a good four months. At least I imagine it’s been a good four months if you really don’t like my writing. But then I would hypothesise that you wouldn’t be reading this. And you wouldn’t have noticed my lack of blogging in the last four months. So, whether the last four months were good or not would have had absolutely nothing to do with my latest hiatus from this blog. On the other hand if you do like my cyber compositions then you might have been a little miffed that I haven’t produced anything for a while. Indeed 2019 has been rather sparse in terms of content for this plugged-in periodical.

I should probably begin this post with an ablogogy.

Ablogogy is a term I’ve just coined. It can be defined as follows:

ablogogy

[ uh-blog-uh-jee ]

noun, plural a·blog·o·gies.

An insincere written or spoken expression of one’s regret, remorse, or sorrow for having failed to write anything on one’s blog for a considerable period of time. Ablogogies are issued in the vain hope that anyone gives a crap, but with the knowledge that, in fact, no-one has either noticed or particularly cared that one hasn’t written an anodyne post about cabbages for a while.

 

Now that we’ve got that over with, I can perhaps try and write something of substance.

Although that would be quite a departure from my usual utterings, and I haven’t changed that much in the last few months.

As it is currently November, I’m suffering with my annual state of Novemberitis. Which is absolutely a real condition and not something I’ve just made up.

Many people choose to survive November by writing novels, others grow moustaches in an apparent attempt to raise awareness of something. I have considered, but ultimately abandoned, both of these ideas in the past. Occasionally I try to overcome the melancholies of November by producing more content for this blog, but aside from five posts in January, one in April and two in July I have written nothing in 2019, so producing any content this November would be an upturn in fortunes.

Although if this is the best I can do, then perhaps my extended absence was no great loss.

I expect much has changed in the world since my last attempt to kick-start this increasingly dormant blog into existence.

Although Brexit appears to still be a thing.

And there’s another election on the horizon and they’re always fun.

My own existence has largely been dominated by my increasingly mobile and intrepid daughter.

I am very much enjoying being a father but I’m also tired all of the time. Even as I write this my beloved offspring is tearing around the room, occasionally popping over to my workspace (which takes up a corner in what is apparently now her room, although it was very much my office until she arrived on the scene. I suppose it was always theoretically an office/guestroom but given that Mrs Proclaims and I have always discouraged guests it was pretty much my space. Now it’s very much hers and I am permitted the use of a corner on the basis that there is nowhere else in our tiny abode for my computer to live) to tamper with my keyboard and insert random symbols into my prose. I imagine I will have deleted her efforts by the time I publish this, but I suppose she makes a convenient scapegoat for any typos that may appear.

Anyway, I return to the blogosphere this day in order to proclaim my intention to return to blogging more frequently from now on.

But I’ve made such promises before and utterly failed to live up to them.

And really, whether I blog or not is of no great consequence.

So, this entire post is completely pointless.

Which, in fairness, is pretty much in line with everything else I’ve ever written.

Forlornly Fatigued

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Sometimes when I feel tired
I’m not really that nice
And it’s better to avoid me
Or make interactions more concise

I don’t mean to be so grumpy
Like a bear with a sore head
But I’m not very good at coping
When I spend too little time in bed

I’ll be much better tomorrow
When I’ve had a chance to rest
But today will be a challenge
And I won’t be at my best

So I wouldn’t bother trying
To engage with me today
I’ll be morose and sulky
If I cannot get my way

Better just to ignore me
And pretend that I’m not here
I might be a little joyless
But there’s nothing much to fear

Although it might help a little
If you want to cheer me up
To give me lots of chocolate
And pour some coffee in my cup

Frustratingly Fatigued

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Feeling tired is fine at night
And much less helpful now
But when the time to sleep was right
My mind would not allow

Unconsciousness to find me
So in bed I lay alert
I couldn’t get my brain to see
That insomnia would hurt

Any chance of a productive day
So my work I can’t complete
Because I simply cannot find a way
To stay focussed and upbeat

Though coffee helped it didn’t cure
Overwhelming weariness
And so again I must endure
A day of heightened stress

And I really have a lot to do
So much I should achieve
As my tasks continue to accrue
I have no tricks up my sleeve

To help me stay on the right track
And I’m heading for mishap
So I think I’ll lie down on my back
And have a work-place nap

Inspired By Insomnia

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I find myself insomnolent
At three in the morning
Can’t get back to sleep
Though day is several hours from dawning

It’s a frustrating situation
Because I am truly tired
But I don’t think that I will get
The sleep that is required

I try to relax by breathing
I expand my diaphragm
But the more I try to doze
The more alert I find I am

It’s a vicious circle
It makes me want to weep
The longer that I’m conscious
The harder it is to sleep

So as long as I’m awake
I’ll use the extra time
I get up out of bed
And I pen this little rhyme

 

Work-life Unbalance

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I think that I might have a problem
It’s not something I can ignore
It’s taking over my life
It’s starting to become a bore

I seem to be spending too much time
Earning my monthly pay
I do quite like to have money
But there must be an easier way

I think it would be so much better
If I could just not go to work
And still be paid the same wages
That would indeed be a perk

I don’t want to seem like I’m lazy
Nor have my intentions misread,
But some days it would be quite nice
To not have to get out of bed

And really I would find it easy
To fill up the time I’d have free
I have bookcases of unread novels
Many films I’d still like to see

So perhaps we could try a new system
Cos right now I’m feeling harassed
And I just think I’d be a lot happier
If working hard was a thing of the past

The first hurdle

James Proclaims (4)

It’s 11.05 pm GMT as I begin to write this and I’m gulping down my sixth cup of coffee of the day. It’s probably ill-advised but I doubt it will stop me from sleeping tonight.

After boldly claiming yesterday that writing thirty blog posts in thirty days for NaBloPoMo would be undemanding, I find myself in danger of falling at the first hurdle. If I don’t get this done by midnight it will technically be tomorrow and then I will have officially missed a day. I suppose I could make it up by posting twice on the same day but that seems like shaky moral ground to me. Continue reading The first hurdle

The Deadline

Rufus could barely keep his eyes open, but unhealthy levels of caffeine and sugar were just about preventing him from falling asleep at his desk.

He took another gulp of his coffee. It was cold. Did he have time to make another?

He looked at the screen. He felt like he had been staring at the monitor for a long time now without actually writing anything. He glanced at the clock in the bottom right hand corner. Continue reading The Deadline