Thursday, 3 November 2011

The story inside

Considering, dear reader, that you have found yourself peering in through this little blog window to inspect the goings on inside my home currently known as Life, I would like to open the front door and invite you in. I feel that by coming inside you will gain a greater feel for the whole house. If you would like I may give you a little back story and maybe even share with you, some future plans of how I tend for it to improve in the future. 
I'm not going to fill our time up with minor details like when it was first constructed or what century it dates back to (the latter of which you actually will already know if you read the last post anyhow!...which I'm sure you have). Anyway, those facts are merely polite pleasantries you tell people you have no desire to meet or talk with in any great length about anything again, and, dear reader, I don't class you with that kind of people at all. No, I feel we shall become very great friends, which is why I trust you will be interested to know a little more about my Life.

A little while ago, the old place did get terribly run down, specifically in this one room here. Considering its finery, you would have thought that this room was the centrepiece of the whole house. But it wasn't looked after properly you see, and had a lot of impracticalities. It was the room I would use to entertain all my guests, I loved inviting them in to see how grand it looked. But after all the parties and social calls have gone away, it tends to become the darkest and loneliest place. I couldn't find enough time to keep it well looked after and use it as frequently as I did, and, if I'm honest, there were moments where I did find myself contemplating just packing up and leaving the whole house because of it. I said to myself there were many other places that would cause me less hassle, effort, difficulties. I could find somewhere cheaper, easier to maintain, newer. Some place that required little renovation or restoration. A place that had everything already taken care of.
Thankfully, dear reader, you already know that's not what happened as we find ourselves standing inside at this moment. You are probably curious as to how it turned out for the better and of course I won't keep you in suspense. 
I have this friend, you see. No, I'm not going to give you his name. The reason being is that he is quite famous, not that I mean to brag about knowing somebody famous. Unfortunately fame can be incredibly detrimental to who you are. Just a name can carry a whole textbook of references, quotes, skepticisms and opinions which, when clumped together, are completely inaccurate, out of date and all in all irrelevant to this story. You see, many people know his name, but very few really know who he is. I'd like to say it's because of my charm and character that I was lucky enough to get to know him better but in all seriousness, I have looked at this from all angles and I have never owned or will ever hold anything of value to give back to him in return for what he has done for me. It most definitely is completely due to who he is that I remain a part of his life to this day. One day I really must sit and tell you about some of the brilliant adventures we've had together but for now, let's stay focused on this particular story. 
So this friend, let's call him Joshua, decided to pay me a visit, quite early on in life. He is a frequent visitor and when he is here I have this desperate hope that he stays for as long as possible. He does have a habit of showing up unannounced though, which I can sometimes find quite stressful! There have been times I'd turn him away, being too busy with some other kind of work. Looking back on it, I can't remember what was so terribly important about whatever it was I found myself too occupied with at the time, but I do notice that the word 'terribly' often finds common ground with 'important' and I feel they compliment each other quite perfectly. However, there were other times when I couldn't be happier to have him. We would chat about my future plans and he would constantly have new ways of showing me how to do things, that were always better than my ways (to begin with, I found this incredibly annoying, but it does grow on you over time as you live and you learn). He would go through the house, room by room and know exactly what needed to go where. Often, his methods included massive deconstruction whereas I would have much preferred to just cover up with some cheap plaster or other less costly material. I must make a point that he never barges in and starts to work away on his own accord. He would give me his advice and then, unless I asked him to stay and help, he would leave me to it. I confess, at the beginning of our friendship I would often thank him, show him the door and then find the plaster board. I encourage you though, if you have the great privilege of knowing Joshua personally, don't do that. After completing projects that took a tenth of the time that he'd suggest putting into it, I would sit there for the other nine tenths in agony, watching the looming front door, knowing that at any moment there would be a knock, he would be back and I would show him through to that room, and he would see what I had done, and say nothing. Now, that doesn't sound like a bad sort of outcome but if you could view my stomach and hear my pulse at the same time, you would think the situation totally not worth it. He does have that sort of effect on you, this incredible desire to please him. Fortunately, Joshua has a memory like a herd of elephants, and he would remind me of his suggestions and offer his help time and time again. I'd love to brag to you, dear reader, and tell you that I counted my losses and took him up on his kind offer very early on, but I'm afraid there are still times today that I feel my ways are more time efficient than his. The thing about that is, though, what am I making time for? That other nine tenths are really worth nothing if it's filled with ...nothing.
But I keep deviating, I want to talk to you about a specific visit that he made to inquire about this very room we're standing in now. One afternoon Joshua arrived without notice (obviously). It was near winter when the days are incredibly short and darkness is much more frequent. I always find it a little harder to be motivated to go outside when it's like this, and tend to sit, sometimes for days, behind closed doors. So I was glad he had visited as I was craving having someone to talk to about some new installments I had made but he had his own reasons for being there. He talked to me plainly about the last year, explaining (quite accurately) that the majority of work I had done in here hadn't resulted in much restoration and that I was in serious jeopardy of the ceiling completely collapsing. He insisted that I needed a team of people to come and build in some new renovations, specifically some support for my ceiling. For me, this idea was ridiculous! I had always looked after this house on my own, why on earth would I hire a group of strangers that I had never put my trust in, to crowd into my personal space and start making it into something that he thought was needed? Didn't he trust me? Surely he had known me long enough to understand that all my plans were for the best. Besides, I'd taken his advice before and tried doing it myself and it most definitely had not worked out the way he said it would. Why would I take that risk again and this time an even bigger one? 
That afternoon didn't really end on a high note. In fact, after he left, my stubbornness seemed to create this unstoppable fuel that burned furiously throughout the whole winter. It kept me working night and day at all the things he told me would lead to nothing. You already know where this is heading. A little later on, the entire room caved in on itself. It collapsed suddenly, without any warning, right in the middle of when I thought it looked at its best. The place was in ruins. Dear reader, I really can't describe to you the loss I felt that day. I was beside myself and out of ideas. How I wish I could tell you that this was finally the point where I counted my losses and called on those he'd urged me to seek help from several months before. Instead I sat down in those ruins and lived with it. I didn't move, I didn't care if it rained or shined, I wouldn't sleep, I wouldn't eat, I would sit here and wait for him to come back so I could be angry at him for not doing, himself, what he told me was best. If he had known what was going to happen, if he really had known that the roof would collapse, why hadn't he forced me out of the house? I could have died! I stewed in my fury for a long time reader, with a serious attitude and a sour expression to match. 
I didn't think past my anger and couldn't see the point in doing so. All my efforts had led me to nothing. A broken home, a caved in dream, a moot point. There was nothing left.

Now, I'd love to continue but I feel this tiny post has become anything but tiny. Don't be angry with me, but I've decided to leave you in suspense (domdomdom!). I didn't realize, at the beginning of my story, how long it would take to relay it but I don't want to rush this. I feel you will see a much greater picture if I gave you the story of this Life, in detail. I promise you, it will lead to a much more colourful and vibrant ending. You'll just have to trust me with this.
Please do think about sticking around though. There's still much more of the story to tell.

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