Why You Don't Listen to Impulses

I grew up in a house which had a public path right next to it. Our garden led to this path, and many joyous hours were spent just cycling up and down the path. I loved that path a lot (although maybe not the dog poo that was there with a bag over it - that always caused a distraction to this tiny mind).

One evening, I was walking about the house, as you do. I saw that the front door was open.

I felt like having a run down that pathway and back. Be free to do it as I liked, without anyone else being there, dictating what we did, choosing me to be there. And then I'd be back as though nothing had ever happened, and life would go on as normal, unburnished and everything forgotten.

This projected image in my head, time to put action to words.

I ignored the fact that my parents outside looked all serious and possibly were arguing with each other, and that anything had been said in my direction. After all, I would be coming back, I'd be back in a couple of minutes, so I wasn't running away. I focused just on my run, rather than those silly words.

The run itself was liberating, exhilarating. It was the best run I'd ever had, and I loved each second of it. It released a fair amount of pent-up energy, which was good as back in those days, I was totally completely made up of energy.

It was when I'd got back to the house when everything went wrong. The door was shut, and I didn't have a key for it. How would I get in now?

Apparently I didn't have the mental capacity to knock on the fucking door. I looked at it for a few seconds, the destroyer of all hope and glory, and then, instead of doing the logical thing and hanging around the front of the house, I saw this as a sign of "You're not getting past me, hahahahaha," and turned around to go in the other direction.

I ambled around the neighbourhood, lost and confused. It was getting dark and cold now, and even with this lovely sweater I was wearing, I still felt the freezing-ness of the weather.

What do I do now? I thought, meandering around miserably. Where do I go? What about school?

Because of my lost-ness, I eventually ended up back at a place I recognised, by the corner shop (which had a pretty alarming thief alarm). I knew the way back home.

I decided to give it another shot, and started to walk down the road back.

At the head of the road, my father caught up with me in his car. He stopped right by me, and I got in, wondering if I'd be going back to his place.

No, we went a couple of metres down the road, and went in to home home. Moth took me to the back room and gave a fair argument for why not to run away, even saying that they'd nearly called the police and then I would have been in trouble.

And all for one impulsive run down a path.

The Difference

An annoying habit of some people. "Oh no, she can't be annoyed without being on her period..."

This Comic is Brought to you by Literal-Mindedness

My literal-mindedness created a bird with a toffee beak. Somebody around here had to use the phrase "sticky beak"...

Facelessness

Most of the world use faces as their means of identifying a person. Obviously if you can't see, you don't, but apart from that, the 'normal' person doesn't spend years confused because of one minor difference:

Horrendously bad drawings, but hopefully you get the picture.

You don't tend to wear a headscarf in PE (whether or not you do anywhere else) and plenty of girls at my old school did. it was years before voice recognition was effective in this situation and girls that I'd previously thought of as two different girls turned out to be the same bloody person. It was confusing to see people in PE you never saw anywhere else, particularly as they claimed to be in your form! And looking for somebody specific who wore a headscarf, when they had PE?

Mission Impossible.

And that's not even the worst bit.

That second one has definitely happened. I only realised it after she'd gone by (I'm calling her Quaver from now on) and left my line of sight. And not once, either. Twice.

I have come to the conclusion that maybe I'm a little face blind, and the harder to pronounce way of saying this to the same effect (added maybe with a little confusion), is prosopagnosia. It's easier to rely on headscarf, hair, general body shape, glasses, etcetera, than rely on anything else. Except cake, of course, but still.

So remember, don't change your hairstyle and still expect me to work out who you are in 2 seconds flat. Because you look so different since you've grown your hair out.

Banana Fudge Soufflé, and Why I Should Get Adblock on this Computer

So I randomly searched "banana fudge souffle" (with quotes):

I think I've created my own term.

To make this delectable desert, eggs-stir-minute, bother your sister into making some fudge for you, grow a banana plant. Somehow put the soufflé, banana and fudge together in a way that is delectable. Enjoy.

Banana Fudge Soufflé (n): 1. A delectable desert to be consumed while one Waits for It.
2. A term used to convey annoyance (e.g. "Banana fudge soufflé, this TimeFrame changed from the last by 1 meagre pixel!")
3. A triplet of euphemisms (I'll leave that one to your imaginations)
4. Something you'd say when seeing this ad:

Banana fudge soufflé, I am not that old!

But is far too mild for this horror:

I'm just going off for some counselling...

5. A sign that the post in question isn't serious/coherent/the opposite of random.

Terms and Cakeditions

Not many people are diligent about reading things such as Terms and Conditions, Acceptable Use policies, etcetera etcetera. I have myself just ticked the box saying "I have read and agree to the Terms and Conditions." Tick.

It's pretty basic stuff anyway. Don't use this for copyright infringement/commercial purposes/making banana fudge soufflé. Age limits.

"If you are under 13 please refrain from using this site." Yes, because 12 year olds are really going to read the Terms of Use of a site. How many 12 year olds (and younger!) will bump up their age to access things on the net?

That's one of my sisters. I'm calling her Semibreve.

Terms and Conditions are everywhere. If they don't already (and that is very likely given how many cakes are wrecked), they'll soon have them for buying cake. I think that would be fun. I think this paragraph was just to justify the title. Cake.

I don't know how to end here. It is likely important to read all of those T&Cs, in case it means that the company are permitted to rob your home and sell all your contents on eBay if you sign on that dotted line.

Please Sign Here:..........................................................................................................

(In signing this we at this blog are super-entitled to make fun out of you, invade your privacy settings and general privacy, include you in superlatively crazy drabbles and sneak on you to your teachers if you put one single atom(ic bomb) out of line. You are warned that you may want to emigrate to somewhere outside the UK so we cannot hound you nearly as much. Terms and Cakeditions apply.)

Time

Time. Wait for it.

I have been enraptured by Time ever since I first found it on xkcd. The beautiful simplicity of it, the mystery and excitement from every regular update, the way it just has taken over all of my spare time.

It is just so real. You want to know what happens next in the comic and in life, yet you can't help but be a little bit afraid of what it may bring. To know what happens, all you can do is follow the One Commandment: wait for it.

I shall wait for Time,whatever happens, and I hope for it to go on forever.

I also hope the sea isn't made out of caffeinesemencancerbabies, but that is more to do with the complete insanity of the One True Thread, rather than anything to do with the One True Comic.

There is a very helpful tool and there is a whole wiki dedicated to it.

But let's just wait for it.