Me, Scarecrow

We all have our pet hates, don’t we? My top two are cold (all my skinny being trembles at the very idea, not to mention experiencing it) and those white Saint-Petersburg nights (a hellish thing indeed! Like an old granny I’ve been rambling on for ages that the time between dusk and dawn must be dark – the blacker the better – and those whitish-grayish shades are nothing but the direst nature’s perversion).

There is also another thing, though. I find it quite hard to label it with some one word; the closest to what I mean here is probably inertia. It’s not that I hate it, it’s just my ardent aspiration to have as little of it as possible – it goes for both myself and people I share this world with. I'll explain but in the first place, just to be clear - I am ordinary.

And I mean it. Nothing outstanding either outwards or inwards. I don't plunge into crazy adventures at any opportunity. Don't go on night bikes races with mad swearing and spitting bandana-marihuana guys, don't swim naked in the central square fountain (there isn’t one in our central square, faithfully; but… come to think of it, that sounds really attractive - to me only of course, as I seriously doubt that passers-by would agree, not exactly a gracious mermaid I am), don't hitch-hike around Europe barefoot sipping champagne from the bottle or any other similar things.

No! I spend my days with an army of my little crazy monsters, often not teaching but being taught, - those 10-year-olds, you know, they are so smart, so imaginative, so open and free (too much at times, they make the old mature me blush), - and all my-out-of-work minutes with my son, who could easily compete with the above ones in monstrousness, my little naughty diablo, the core of my very self, the only reason I bless every new dawn that comes.

I while away most of my evening time marking homework or trying to fish out or think up something exciting to occupy their curious and eager heads with and thus trick them into learning. Isn't it inertia? For sure it is.

And I often choose just to hang around my flat eating French Fries from McDonalds and watching "Murder She Wrote".

And I love to cry along with stupid romantic pop-songs from the 90s, drinking wine and thinking about this world’s imperfections. It's too a dead bore and outright dullness for a good deal of people out there.

And I mop puddles after my cat, and cook soup, and mix diabolic mixtures for my hair from vodka-mustard-eggs-whatever and look like what I am - a scarecrow.

So, all in all, I'm incredibly boring. But this boredom is my life and it’s fine by me (I even manage to enjoy it. Immensely - now and then).

But what I meant under inertionalism was something different. It's not the way of life that we lead (routines/traditions/habits) but rather the way of thinking - one-way one, a 2D one, stuck in a rut and devoid of any possible flexibility and capability or frequently desire to get out of the box.  In dire cases - unwilling even to think, to imagine, to believe in anything that goes even a bit beyond everyday to-get-some-meat-and-toilet-paper needs. I too tend to get into that rut on and off, and immediately start feeling – literally feeling – stiffness, mold and rust creeping all over me. These three are simply hateful and to scare them off I start racking brains. Or writing. Or better still - both)

No, really, it’s a fantastic - no, fantastic - feeling you get just thinking! Even if you realize perfectly well that what you ponder is neither universally vital, potentially sensational or even in the least clever. Say, why in the central part of the country dark car colors are much more common than in the Far East where all sorts of lightish ones predominate; or about beetroots and the reason why they’ve developed that round shape of theirs whereas their immediate neighbors, carrots, are on the contrary pointed. Silly thoughts. But so exciting!)

I don’t know exactly who I am addressing, honestly. Myself, most probably. I just feel my head is not capable of containing and safe-keeping all that crazy stuff that it itself produces, so I have no other option but to get myself a resource to back it all up. I might well abandon this idea in a month or in a day even – being as changeable as I am – but now I’m feeling up to it so at least for a while I’ll hang about here.

P.S. There's only one thing I'm hoping for getting this bloggy ball rolling - that I'll be mentally strong enough not to turn this place into a sappy diary.