Diary of Lisa Taylor, reluctantly 42 (and a half)

Or.. 'f.ck me I'm forty.. two.. and a half', though can look 38 on a - not so deluded - good day. Or 'How to reconcile a well experienced mind trapped in a still - but for how long? – youthful body.' Don't have the 30somethings angst/problems, neither have the resigned (?) ageing baby-boomers in safe family territory outlook yet. Here's how I cope, one day all sexy women will get old... but never invisible. © Lisa Taylor 2005/6/7/8/9. Jeez.. so much for the 42 and-a-half delusion

Thursday, May 29, 2008

30 May - Before I get to work

I can't believe that with all the advancement in medicine and neuro studies that are made, one simply can't come up yet with some simple software for our brains. I personally would like one that substitutes all the recurring useless thoughts I have everyday with an altogether more productive kind of thought.

I could be learning a new russian phrase every morning for example instead of thinking 'I wish these stupid kids/teenagers didn't pull the same stupid stunt every morning of trying to get on the bus w/o swiping their oyster or swiping one with no credit and then getting called back/yelled at by the driver who won't drive on till this is sorted and this is wasting all of us going to work precious minutes'.
There, if I learnt a similar lenght russian sentence, i'd be reading War and Peace in no time. Because after that one comes 'These idiots who cluster around the bus door instead of taking up all AVAILABLE SPACe so the bus looks full to the driver who won't let us on but it's not and I can squeeze in there. Just F king move you f king idiots'. See for any of those I also get raised blood pressure whereas I'd rather raise pressure by having an unbearably clever idea for a gap in the market that would make me rich.

After that I usually think 'What is it that makes it take so long to get off a bus? There's no crippled person holding us up, no ancient pensioner with a trolley so why can't all these people /kids get off the bus faster, they're wasting yet more of my minutes'

For an equivalent sentence in russian I could find I can order a coach and horses in St Petersburg and go see the sights conversing with my coachman. After the bus pointlessly repeated thoughts, I have yet more of the kind on the tube, you know the one about idiots not standing on the right on escalator and the one about clogging in clusters by the doors and not getting on or off fast enough etc.
I don't want any of these thougths, they don't advance me, they don't do anything, they're the equivalent of pointless flies. But you think they could tweak our brains somehow like in the Matrix but no, we're still here, just merely functioning. Oh it could put you in a really bad mood to dwell on this! Especially as a variation on this theme is repeated when I leave work.

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