I was just thinking.
Actually, I do my best thinking around 2am. It is amazing what the brain can come up with in the early hours.
Anyway, I was thinking about how unfair the global financial meltdown was. It was precipitated by mistakes/errors by the bankers. Not the little people.
So can anyone please tell me why the governments didn't make the banks pay for the mistakes/errors, and put things right, but rather, rewarded them all by first bailing them out and then letting them keep All The Money as things recovered, and instead, wait for it, decided that the little people would pay. And Pay. And Pay. And Pay. Forever and a day. The evil bankers get the bonus cheques every year. Little people get smaller pay packets. And the best bit is that the banks get to decide if the little people can every get any help. Like mortgages. Loans.
It seems all very wrong indeed. More than wrong at 2am.
Then I started thinking about getting a wheelchair.
Pick yourselves up off the floor this instant. Yes, this is me speaking. The one who refuses to contemplate the advent of the wheelchair while there is still breath left in me. That still stands. Stands.
You see, I am sick and tired of missing stuff. Stuff like concerts, weddings, shows, singing, parties, bands, music, films, church worship services. Anything involving noise or vibration. Music. Things I LOVE. I want them back. Now. So, at 2.05am sometime last week, I thought about getting a wheelchair, and experimenting with rubberised thicknesses to cover the seat, back, arm and foot rests which would absorb vibration and some sound waves and let me take part. Be there. Go to shows. I may still need earplugs as well, but it would be better than either being convulsed in a corner or at home.
I am known for my willingness to compromise. Ahem.
I am prepared to consider the option. I have no idea if I can find something to work but I will ponder the idea. It may work. You never know.
Another 2.10am thinking session much more recently, as in this morning, focussed on the advisability of erecting the new shed-in-a-box until after the tail of the Bermuda hurricane passes on Tuesday. I have visions of the new shed-in-a-box flying over the fence, even with the world's heaviest toolbox anchoring it down. I need to think about that in the next couple of hours before my children decide to construct it anyway.
Words come easily when the darkness is deepest. Maybe it is because of the silence, the obliteration of the incessant noise of modern day life. There is so much truth in the need to seek, and indeed, to welcome, silence. And to learn to quiet the brain. For me, the early hours seem to work best, even though this is not by choice, of course. Only a lunatic would think making an appointment with oneself to think at 2am was in any way sensible or reasonable.
Words = thoughts. Ideas. Stories.
At 2.15am, I always have a plethora of stories to tell. The detail is perfect. The idea rock solid. And then I fall asleep and when I wake I can barely remember my name, never mind the intricacies of the story I wrote in my head at 2whatever.
I do remember the bank page. And the words forming. They say just write anything, anything, and in time, the story will emerge.
That is one of the reasons I have always loved blogging here. I am able to say what I want to say. I use my own life to illustrate things, as well as I can. We are all individuals. We all have preferences, ideals, ideas, dreams, loyalties, viewpoints, experiences of our own, no two the same. We all have our own story to tell.
You cannot know how or why I am who I am here any more than I can do the same for you. I choose how much I share. There may be many words, but a very high percentage of Linds is not to be found here.
And that is where there is a very big problem for many bloggers, who have not got a business plan in their pocket, but the dream of creating something which may in time to come, be something our children can look back on and see their parent.
Mother, in my case. Me.
I would love to create a memoir for them, but cannot here in an open forum, so other options have to be considered. (I am on an "other option" learning curve, it seems, see the wheelchair above.)
At 2am, there always seems to be oceans of time to spare.
The reality comes with dawn, of course.
And now, I am going to go and relax with my crochet hook and a cup of coffee. And just enjoy time without any hurry.
Have a lovely Sunday.