Tell us something really trivial about your life (Vol 18)
Discussion
Odd, kind of disturbing day today.
I'm not normally fearful as I go about my day to day business, but today was "different".
I grew up in a large city, went to uni in a fairly bif city and returned to home city where I worked for many years. I have visited many towns and cities on business, often returning to my car walking throu said centres, with rarely any concerns.
Today, early afternoon I kept an appointment in a reasonably sized town.
Venue near the centre, sat nav got me close enough, parked about ten minutes walk from meeting. I am wearing normal business clothes, suit and tie, carrying a briefcase.
I cannot recall feeling so conspicuous in my whole life! Everyone, from teens to forties and older were wearing but three things!
1. Tracksuit top and bottoms (I would have been smart in jeans)
2. Some kind of hat
3. Vacant expression
Returning to my car later, I rounded a corner to alight upon a gaggle of about ten trackie wearers and got the "looks" the "snorts" the muttered expletives.
I felt really intimidated, probably because the whole place had such a well "malevolent" atmosphere I suppose. Crap afternoon
PP, bathroom tiled, well done
I'm not normally fearful as I go about my day to day business, but today was "different".
I grew up in a large city, went to uni in a fairly bif city and returned to home city where I worked for many years. I have visited many towns and cities on business, often returning to my car walking throu said centres, with rarely any concerns.
Today, early afternoon I kept an appointment in a reasonably sized town.
Venue near the centre, sat nav got me close enough, parked about ten minutes walk from meeting. I am wearing normal business clothes, suit and tie, carrying a briefcase.
I cannot recall feeling so conspicuous in my whole life! Everyone, from teens to forties and older were wearing but three things!
1. Tracksuit top and bottoms (I would have been smart in jeans)
2. Some kind of hat
3. Vacant expression
Returning to my car later, I rounded a corner to alight upon a gaggle of about ten trackie wearers and got the "looks" the "snorts" the muttered expletives.
I felt really intimidated, probably because the whole place had such a well "malevolent" atmosphere I suppose. Crap afternoon
PP, bathroom tiled, well done
er messes with a dude sporting one of them
Adenauer said:
Papa Hotel said:
Adenauer said:
Chunkymonkey71 said:
Adenauer,
I've never been to Germany before. Are there really people walking about with blonde moustaches and medallions? Or is porn a whole pack of lies?
It is indeed true, they can be found I've never been to Germany before. Are there really people walking about with blonde moustaches and medallions? Or is porn a whole pack of lies?
You misrepresenting weirdo.
And yes, I did see what you said in that thread in the Germany section.
I'm watching you, papa
I have one word for you Adenauer. Partytreff.
“He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach.
By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room.
He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.”
By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room.
He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.”
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