I don't want to ever get to a point in my life where I can't get excited about stuff. It's amazing how quickly the monumental becomes run of the mill though. (See, as long as I can get excited about how things cease to be exciting I'll be alright). I suppose I should be upset by it, but it just merely proves that despite mankind's overriding fear of the unknown which seems to dominate every single decision that we make in our waking lives from what brand of margarine to buy to what shall we do with our lives and who should we spend it with, we still get used to the idea of new stuff abnormally quickly to the point where it becomes disposable and replaceable almost immediately. Is this normal? Are we normal?
Real excitement -- as in the real juicy lemon in life's pancake -- doesn't come from exciting things at all. It comes from odd coincidences, surprise meetings and clashing cardigans (if you're a girl that is, if you're a boy you'll have to think of some macho equivalent for clashing cardigans). Why when we make new friends do we refrain from contacting them after 10pm for fear of 'disturbing' them? You don't have to be on 24hour call to be a good friend to someone, but if someone close calls at midnight needing reassurance that their life isn't meaningless and you get out of bed and look for the kettle, that's probably the best neighbourhood watch scheme going, and it's the real thing; it's the lemon and sugar in your dry lifeless pancake. So next time you're watching the news and you get the fear about gangs and pillagers, try tapping on your neighbour's window and asking for some sugar. I'm sure he'll happily give you some, and he might even smile at you too. Goodnight.