Random Thoughts of Nothingness

 It is a cold wintery evening here in Reading, and apparently we are at the stage of the year where the weather plays games on the mortals of the United Kingdom. Not the mortals of UK, per se, but rather Reading. Ever since I came here a year ago, it seems to me that I am always wet when I am outside. That is, of course, an exaggeration. Some of it is my own idiocy; I see the grey clouds gathering over, I hear the pitter-patter of rain as it pours, rain which knocks on the windows during nights like an invader finding a way to get in. I see the remnants of rain during the mornings when I go out and get milk from the fridge; the rain is always there, waiting, not afraid, making itself visible.

And despite such obvious signs, I refuse to take an umbrella with me when I leave my house. I know not why; maybe the fact that I don’t want to carry too many things, and the fact that I can’t be bothered to take my bag. It is too much of a hassle, and I don’t like opening zips again and again.

I have been playing a lot of Civilisation VI recently, a game I got hooked to on a whim. I have heard good things about the series, but over the last week or so I have been enjoying the experience myself, despite being very clearly terrible at it. Still, I hope to get one of those victories one day.

This is a nothing post; just murmurs and whisperings of the minutes and hours and days that constitute my functioning life. I have been getting more and more restless of late; someone recently mentioned the term “adult admin’ when I was talking about how difficult it is to live alone in a foreign country. This adult admin has taken over and now dominates most of my so-called “free time”, and I have observed that I have stopped doing, or at the very least, doing them for far too less a time, things that I enjoy and hobbies that I want to pursue. I promised myself that I would be a consistent blogger this year, and it is March already, and I am fumbling through, trying to type some words before making dinner. Welcome to adulthood, as the quote goes. It sucks, but I would be lying if I said I did not feel a weird affection towards it.

I have a mountain of books I would like to read at some point, but I have started to understand that there will be very few days, if any, where I will be able to spend an entire day reading books or playing video games. Those days are in my past, and to enjoy my small material joys I need to specifically eke out time from my routine.

I want to write, but I do not know what to write. This rambling is evidence of that. I was extremely displeased with what I wrote yesterday, but the only thing I know is to persevere. Keep knocking and keep praying, and hopefully, one day, I will be able to emulate the authors I admire so much. I am afraid of floating in the ocean of mediocrity, but I am finding it hard to get out of the raft and ride the dangerous currents that lead me to the land of the unknown. I am afraid of stagnating, but there is a dangerous pleasure in stagnation; stagnate enough and it numbs your brain to opportunities and options, and it numbs your senses and your mind to your own capabilities.

Summer is nearly here in the UK, and many will be grateful when the sun comes out. Reading is no different; it has been a fairly mild winter this time around, but there is no substitute for the joy of seeing the sun stay up after 4 pm.