On Routines

Alrighty, people. I need some inspiration, and I need it fast.

What do you do, when you decide one day that it is about time to write another blog post... and yet, you don't really have anything to write about.

Its not exactly a writer's block. I mean, I'm NOT a writer in the first place. At least in any formal, official sense. Actually, probably not even in the vaguest sense of the word.

I was thinking of writing about love, but that is so cliche. Eccentricity is a good choice, but there's hardly is any at the moment to feed my obssessive compulsiveness. I was originally planning to write about the weather (and how it will be extremely cold tomorrow , at least for me) but it doesn't sound exciting enough.

Most of the time I start writing because I'm at my wits end - things like being still in the office at wee hours of the morning, or in a monumental depressive state due to sheer pressure, or naming new nephews with stupid names, or even a guide in buying air conditioners - just because I pretty much delved into the whole I-got-to-know-the-specs-and-built-an-aircon-myself kind of thing.

But pretty much at the moment, there's really natch.

Everything is preeeeeeetty mudane. I go to work (and there are some interesting things recently, but nothing worth noting in THIS blog), have lunch with friends and colleagues, keep working on many different little and big things, get myself worked up and harrassed, catch the ride to the ferry, get back home - where sometimes I pass by the supermarket downstairs to cook up something interesting - cook or reheat some leftovers, promptly wash the dishes, take a bath, chat, and go to sleep.

Ah. Eccentricity. I do seem to notice that I am obssessive about cleaning dishes. I think I like washing the dishes more than actually eating. I think it is the satisfaction that your plates, bowls, pots and pans are SQUEAKY clean - whereas half an hour ago it was loaded with oil.

In any case, it really isn't THAT exciting to begin with, to write out a post.

I mean, posts have to have some objective, some purpose... some meaning, right? And here I am, talking about nothing - about the normal, the mudane, the routine.

Is it actually mudane to have a post and a discussion on being mudane?

Hm.