Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Frustration On A Friday!
Sometimes it’s good for me to keep you lot on your toes so you don’t go expecting the usual.
Unfortunately, there was no Whimsy this Wednesday due to the fact that Whimsy left the building, slammed the door and filed for divorce.
“Go on, leave! Good riddance! I couldn’t stand your controlling ways anyhow! See if I care! I’ve met someone new called Frustration and I’m meeting him on Friday!”
May have actually been the reason that whimsy left me. I had a proper midweek strop on. Usually, I can work through these bouts of toddler rage and oftentimes they make whimsy what it is. However, I had just been suffering from a five day headache. I’ve never experienced such a thing in all my life. It was on one side of my head lingering from the temple to the back of my left eye. Kind of like brain freeze but without the luxury of cookie dough dynamo ice cream being the cause.
The doc sent me to the eye people to check to see if I had a brain. I’m not a fan of eye people. Mostly because I really don’t want to discuss the photograph that makes me want to vomit because I never realised my eyes actually looked liked veiny, orange ping-pong balls.
Verdict: Too much screenery and not enough scenery. Stay off computers and rest your eyes or suffer everlasting migraine.
I went back home, made a coffee and got back to work.
The thing is, when you work for yourself, you can’t just off on a jolly with a headache. Things need constant attention.
Talking of attention…
leads me nicely onto my next rant about Instagram. Having an Instagram account (as I have) for a personal reason is easy. You post pictures as and when you want to and folks come and follow you or not and there’s no pressure. Having an Instagram account for a business is a totally different ball game.
There are rules.
Instagram has turned into the biggest social media platform – especially for business. You have to post consistently, be entertaining, call to action, develop #funkyhashtags, follow other people in your niche market and try to develop a following. VERY difficult. Because mostly, the people who follow you are also businesses.
And this is what they do:
Follow you. (Ah, how sweet)
You follow back. (Polite, supportive and community building)
They wait a while until they think you won’t notice and unfollow you. (RUDE)
This pisses me off beyond belief. It just goes to show how driven people are just to get “likes” and build up their little emporium with total unashamed disregard for anyone. False, fickle and…I’m trying to think of something else beginning with F because I have alliteration addiction but it’s too rude.
Because this infuriates me way beyond a level it should, I have an app that tells me who has done this. Every day I go on it and find the culprits. I then go to their feed, like every single one of their pictures so that I am seen on all of them and then unfollow them back. I know that this is totally childish but I don’t care. I am turning into the Judge Dredd of Instagram.
Secondly, it is apparently VITAL that you follow celebrities and fawn all over them with heart eyed emojis and high school girl talk. Cue projectile vomit. I tried it for a day and it made me poorly. Granted, if Kim Kardashian picks up a piece of my merchandise or reads one of my books I’m set for life but do I really want to sell my soul to achieve that? No. Not playing by Instagram rules anymore. Soz.
A Bit of Divine Assistance
Being totally at odds with the fickle ways of the modern world, I decided to go to church on Sunday. This helps me rebalance, become humbled after the barrage of narcissism I am subjected to and stops me wanting to throttle everyone.
However, I’m not quite down with High Church cos it ain’t like Texas Cowboy Church where people welcome you with hugs and doughnuts, a good sense of humour and accept you no matter your never-ending flaws. This particular church, I sometimes frequent when in need of moral guidance, has a lady in it that does my head in. I know her from somewhere in my past though I can’t remember where. All I know is that it’s unpleasant.
There’s a part in the service called “The Peace” where everyone shakes each other’s hand and says, “Peace be with you”. I’m a very awkward person and find this part of the service staggeringly difficult. I always want to say something ridiculous. But, every time I put my hand out to this woman she ignores me and greets someone else instead, coming to me in her own good time and clearly under duress.
Well, guess what that does to my peace? It sends it flying right out of the stained glass window.
So, that went well.
Not relying on my own instincts I went to have a chat with Kevin.
He didn’t care.
Nor did the dog.
Hang on Stroopy, Stroopy Hang On!
With both people and animals out of the question in my search for harmony, I resorted to a new packet of biscuits that had found a way into my house.
This, my friends, is called a Stroop biscuit and it is heaven sent. How I have got to this tender age without putting one of these in my mouth is outrageous. This should be a Dutch National Treasure.
But, like most things, this was just a passing relief and did not sedate the torrent of atrociousness growing inside me. Take an o out of Stroop and what have you got?
Strop, I Want To Get Off!
Maybe it was too much sugar, maybe it was the lady at church, maybe it was Kim Kardashian, I don’t know but I had to forcibly make myself go outside and have a big calm down. I sat there looking at the flowers thinking, “Right that’s it, I’m done. I’m shutting it all down and starting anew. All this effort for such little reward. Had enough. Even whimsy has left me.”
Yes, people, I nearly pressed the big red button. But just as I was sitting there formulating a plan where I run off in just my jeans and boots, committing to nothing but the moment, an email came through.
“Where’s whimsy? I miss it?”
“I don’t think my link is working….”
“Can I take part in your new book?”
Wow. Talk about perfect timing.
Are you lot stalking me or something? 😉