Costume Ideas.

Tonight I'm dressing up as a slutty cat, but...

...well...

...that's beside the point really.

I wear costumes a lot because of what I choose to do on a daily basis.
In fact, I used to get paid to wear one all day.

It's something that I'm used to.



I work with some people in theatre who are very shy. They hide away in their everyday life and shut themselves off. I think it's their defensive mechanism.
But then they go on stage, in costume (whether it be literally, or just in the way that they are 'in character') and they change. It seems that they can lower those inside defences when they are wearing an outside costume.

It's a freeing experience.
Therapeutic.
A lot of people do it.


But what confuses me, is why it takes them to go on stage to do that?
And is everyone like that?

How about maybe, just maybe, people who aren't shy, are just as closed off on the inside as those who are?
Maybe we all are just like those shy people, we just hide it better?

I think I am anyway.

When I'm not wearing a costume on the outside, I'm sure as hell wearing one inside.
It's my defence to the shit that rains from the sky of society every fucking day.

Every now and then I'm going to strip out of that make believe costume in the hope that it opens myself out to the stage of the world.

Open myself to possibilities.
Strip myself and show my vulnerabilities.
And just hope I don't get fucked up by it.

Ancient Culmination

I am currently 21 years old.



I will have no more 'coming of age' birthdays.



I have come of age.



I am of age.



Of age to do what exactly? To be what exactly?

It may seem to you dear readers that 21 isn't actually very old at all. If I live to the average life expectancy in the UK then I'm only just over a quarter of the way to my deathbed. Not much really.
But in my opinion it's completely relative.

If I'm acting like a 8 year old then 21 is fucking ancient. As I am feeling around about now.

I try to grow up. I do.
I try to do things that adults do, like have some wine whilst making dinner, or organise all my paperwork into separate draws in my desk.
I still feel immature though.

I still haven't got it together. Whatever 'it' is.




But then I look at people even older than me and see that they haven't got 'it' together either and it gives me a little comfort.


There isn't anything to get together is there?

Life is just a massive struggle to keep everything from falling apart at its seams.

And it's time for me to get stitching I guess.

Heard about that man who did that amazing thing in his head and was like the smartest person alive for just a split second and if he could have found a way to write it down or even just say it aloud he would have been ultra famous and successful and would probably have ended up ruling the world?






Just me then.

My Guardian Angel

This is the story of my guardian angel.

Back when I worked at Disneyland, I used to dress up as Goofy in the park and get surrounded by up to 50 people at any one time. I'd work through them all one by one, signing their autograph books and taking silly pictures with them.

But every now and then, my handler would whisper in my ear "Goofy, there's a Genie-badge waiting to see you, can you come?"

Genie-badge's, or blue badges, were given to children from the Make-A-Wish Foundation. What the badge meant was, that the child was terminally ill, and it was one of their dying wishes to go to Disneyland.

They are priority number 1 for characters when out "on stage."

This was the second time I had seen a Genie-badge child. The first one was a little French boy who, from the outside, looked as fit as a fiddle! It was harrowing to know that he probably only had 2 years left to live.

That was usually the case with Genie-badges though, they were children who still had a few years of life left to live. They were still healthy, most of the time.

I couldn't have predicted what I was about to encounter this time though.

It was a little English girl, of whom I never actually learnt the name, but I will never forget her face.

She was only around 7 or 8, and she was in a wheelchair. She had tubes coming out of her nose and wires wrapped all around her body. There seemed to be some sort of electrical equipment strapped to the bottom of her chair too. God know's what it did, but it was definitely important.

But despite all this medical equipment surrounding her, it was her face that you were drawn to.

She had the biggest, most beautiful smile you could ever see. She was so happy, and it was to see me! I'd never felt so proud in my life, that I could make this girl smile like that, just by doing my job!

Instantly I felt such a connection with this little girl, and I decided to play with her for as long as I could. I would tickle her nose with my huge Goofy hands, and I would hide behind my ears and do some silly moves. She loved it! She was laughing and smiling as if she didn't have another care in the world!

Nearby her mother and father were talking to my handler, while watching.

"Oh this is so great" I heard her mother say. "I can't believe she got to meet Goofy, her favourite!"

When I'd heard that, I'd never felt more honoured in my life. I was on the verge of tears inside my suit. All I wanted to do was to break character and give her a huge hug, but I knew that was a silly idea.

"She really needed this. Thank-you so much" Her mum carried on "It's so great that she got to meet Goofy, especially as she only has 4 days left."

I broke down inside my suit. Tears pouring down my face. This little girl, this beautiful little girl was predicted to die within the week.

And then the little girl said a few words that I will never forget. Not until the day I die.

"Goofy, when I'm in heaven, I promise I'll always look down on you."

It took me all the willpower I had to not just break down and weep right there and then. Fuck, I'm crying right now just by writing it.

I had spent nearly 15 minutes with her and I had to go. I was supposed to stay out on stage for about 10 more minutes, but I couldn't handle it. I went straight backstage and sat there for 20 minutes in silence. Just thinking about this beautiful little girl.

It was the most humbling and heartbreaking moment I'd ever experienced in my life. And one I will never forget.

And on days where everything is going shit and I'm feeling depressed, I like to think that that little girl is looking out for me. 

My very own guardian angel.

I Feel Rough

Physically.

Mentally.

Emotionally.

I have no energy. No vigour. No intensity in the way I move and think.

And that hurts me. It hurts me that I have to struggle.

And before you say anything, no! This isn’t a hangover! It’s a much more deeper feeling than that. It’s that feeling of melancholy. That feeling of being utterly destroyed. And beaten.

This feeling isn’t new to me however. I’ve had this before, much worse than now, and I’ve tackled it. I’ve survived shit. Just like you. And him. And her. And I will probably survive shit again in all fairness.

But this time is different. This time I don’t just want to “survive”. I want more.

And that makes me smile.

Smile.

         Grin.

                      Show me those pearly whites.

Let those happy endorphins flood into your brain. Maybe even have a bar of chocolate to help them along.

Ball Ache

I like to relate sex to love. Sometimes.

To most people, they are not the same thing. Which make's sense really, as you can fuck someone without even knowing their name, and you can love someone without ever getting into their pants.

But yet a still feel a strong connection between the two.

Why?

I'm a massively passionate person. Every now and then I will feel extremely strong about something and, for better or worse, I will become obsessed by it.

Whether it be my acting,

Or my previous girlfriends,

Or even something as stupid as playing a video game.

I become attached and my true and pure feelings will just spurt out.

I will get angry, or fall in love, or become addicted. I will always act in a different way, but the one thing it always has in common is that I will act irrationally. That's a fact.

I may act like a twat or an idiot, but I know deep down that it is that unadulterated, blind passion that keeps me doing it again and again.

Which is why I enjoy sex so much.

It is a way to connect to someone on a hugely personal level, yet without having to think about anything. You just feel. And never underestimate the importance, and beauty, of just feeling something without analysing it.

Sex thrusts these great feeling's on to you so quickly that you don't even notice it. All you notice is that you are getting harder, or wetter.

And when you are turned on, and that passion is running through your veins, I believe you are as close to being a purely instinctual, and visceral, human being as ever. And that is amazing.

Don't get me wrong. Thinking has a time and a place where it is absolutely necessary and enlightening and great. It's just sometimes, we have to forget about all of that and just go fuck a loved one's brains out.

Because forgetting about the world with someone close, is the only true way to show them you love them.

That and flowers, of course.

Follow your heart. Then follow your balls. Then follow your brain.

I Heart You

I always wondered why people relate the heart with love.

The heart is a fricken organ for fucks sake. What does it have to do with relationships?
It's main purpose is to keep blood pumping around your body, not to cause 2 people to fall for each other.
But whoever did make that connection, was a fucking genius.

The heart is the most important thing in your body. It's your engine that keeps you up and running.The same can be said for love.
People go through their lives searching for a significant other. It's the one common goal that nearly everyone will always share, to find someone. To fall in love. To have their own fairytale.

Ever been heart-broken? It's a horrible, horrible feeling. The kind of feeling that you never really forget. It just kinda sits there in the back of your mind, forever playing on you. In fact, there is even such a thing as "Broken Heart Syndrome" where someone who has lost their soulmate falls ill, and can literally die from a "broken-heart"
Tragic eh?
But lets not forget:
The heart is a muscle.
And just like every other muscle, when it is broken and tears, it will, over time, always grow back.

It will grow back stronger.
It will grow back bigger.
And it will keep getting bigger and stronger until the day you die.

The brain will try and convice you that it hasn't.
It will put up certain defences when you get hurt, to try and stop it from happening again.
But these defences are bad. They may stop you from getting hurt, but they also will stop you from ever being able to use your heart again.

Let down your mental defence's. Your heart will thank you for it.

And never forget: The more you use your heart, the better it will be.

<3

Sex Education

I used to love Sex-Ed at school. It was always the best lesson as I basically just pissed around making dick jokes.
I knew all the stuff they were trying to tell me anyway, as at the end of the day, all anyone ever learnt from Sex Ed was to wear a condom.

Wearing a condom cured all problems in sex according to my shitty teachers.

Such bullshit.

We learnt the wrong thing's in school about sex. The only useful thing I learn't was how to put a condom on my dick. Once that things on, I'm now invincible from getting a girl preggers and AID's. Job done.
But we never learnt about the mental effects of sex. The effect it has on our emotional health.

Sexual health is much more than just avoiding pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases.
Being sexually healthy is about emotional development, respect and understanding for you and being able to make the right choices. People should be able to make the right choices that make them feel comfortable without fear of intimidation, or hurt others.

Sex is a beautiful thing in strong relationships. It's intimate and fun and brings 2 people together like no thing can. Once you are comfortable with that person and your sex life, you can have so much fun. It's enjoyable, feel's amazing and can bring out your kinkiest instincts. All of which are confidence-building

However I'm not saying that sex outside of relationships is a bad thing. It can be fun and sexy, and we all want it every now and then. You just have to make sure that you have the right mindset, that it is all you want, and not a cry for help.
I've seen so many girls, and boys, go and sleep around because they are just looking for someone to love them. Sex isn't love. And having sex with someone will not make them love you.
And having sex with someone to try and block out certain feelings is also a recipe for disaster
It has the ability to mess your head up, big time.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, sex is amazing. You just have to do it in the right way.....

....doggy.

Confessions of a Romantic Male

Guy's do not have a clue about relationships, or women. I'm just gonna throw that one out there.

When we're growing up we don't get much experience of how to act around girls. Were just taught to play football with our mates, or pretend to blow shit up with our Action Man.
Unlike girls, who are expected to dream about their Wedding and Baby plans from when they're 2, guy's don't get much help in figuring relationships out.

Me? I thought I'd figured it out. I was wrong.

And once again, as is a familiar pattern in my blogs, I blame Disney.

When I watched Disney films, and just generic love films, when I was younger, I always saw that it was the nice prince who got his princess.
It's always the geek who gets the hot girl in High School, by expressing his love to her and showing his true feelings.
And there's always a guy who bursts into a wedding at the last possible second to tell the bride how he truely feels about her, and then they rush off into the sunset.

I was influenced a lot by these films, and in all fairness, I wanted that.
I wanted to be the underdog geek who won the girl by telling her the truth.
I wanted to be the prince who fights until his last breath for the girl of his dreams.
I wanted to have my own love story.

However, life doesn't work like that.

For years I thought that's what women want. A sensitive, cute guy who respects and loves them with all his heart.
In reality, they desire the opposite.

Girls want a strong, arrogant motherfucker who will ignore them, or a guy who doesn't give two shits about boring romantic feelings and instead only cares about drinking and having fun. It's not a bad thing that they want these types of guys. In fact, it's just natural selection.
I just wish that I wasn't pointed in the wrong direction from a young age.
Causes me a lot of hurt.

This is the truth:
Cool bastards will forever get the girl, and nice guy's will always finish last.
Which one are you?

The Field.

A common saying is that life is a long river that we slowly drift down. Missing all the important, nice thing's in the water because were so busy trying to keep afloat. And that sometimes the current can get rough, and other time's it can be peaceful and lovely.

That's one perspective.

But as we all know, they're are an infinite amount of perspective's in the universe.

I prefer to think of life as a giant open field.
A huge green one that's full of cow's and daffodils and stinging nettles.
And those big round hay ball's that people climb up on and take pictures.

So instead of this river that you float down, unaware of your own movements, and knowing that you'll move down it anyway, regardless of whether you try or not (e.g. fate) it is instead up to you to move around this field.
Exploring and finding your own way around.
In the end it's useless, it's only a fucking field and field's aren't really exciting.

But in your time in this field, you will look upon everything from various different points. Different perspectives you may say.

You will first look at the cow's in the field from head on, you facing them, them facing you. You will be scared of them at first, as they look scary and new and powerful. They could hurt you. You don't know how they're gonna act around you. But you will learn to love them. And they will learn to love you.
You will stroke their nose and smile at them, and swear that they're smiling back.
You will never know for sure as you don't really know how a cow smiles. But you don't need to really know, not deep down.
Then, eventually, some of the cows will turn their backs on you, and shit all over your shoes as they walk away. You will squirm, and notice that cow's look fucking disgusting from behind. Not the pretty cute cow faces that you saw before.

The cow's aren't really cow's at all. The cows are the people, and interactions, in your life. Family, friends, lovers.

In the meantime, you've also noticed a beautiful glint of yellow from the corner of your eye. It's a daffodil. It's even more beautiful than the cow's. It's more intricate and pretty than anything you've ever seen before. It's both delicate and invincible at the same time. You want to care for it, and touch it and feel it in your hands. You instinctively want it to be yours.
So you pick it.
You pluck it out of the ground, and hold this amazing, simple, beautful thing in your hands. Your head suddenly fills with amazingly happy thought's, and for a split second you don't notice the rank smell of shit on your shoes. You forget that you're even stood in a field.
But then the thoughts in your head begin to leave, to deteriorate. The daffodil is dying. You killed it, and it's slowly turning into a brown shadow of what it once was. Up close it's not beautiful anymore. It's ugly.
You throw it on the ground and run.

The daffodil represents art, beauty, inspiration. It's the thing's that you love with everything you have. In fact, it is love.

You try to get as far away from the daffodil as possible, but in your rush you fall into a huge bush of stinging nettles. There's a stabbing pain in your leg as you curse yourself for wearing short's. At first you're unsure of how stinging nettles really work. I mean, you've never seen them before! So you stand there, in the stinging nettles, confused and trying to figure out what's going on. You think about the cow's and the daffodils, maybe they've got something to do with it.
Then it dawns on you. This harmless looking flora must have stung you deep in your leg somehow. The fucker.
And the worst bit? When you get out of the nettles, the leg starts to itch. A temporary reminder that will stay with you for as long as you think about it. However as soon as you forget about that stinging, and think about something else, you slowly forget that it was ever hurting in the first place.
I mean, your now aware of what it does, but you kinda forget how it felt.
Interesting.

The stinging nettles are pain. Whether it be grief, misery, or a sickness. There's a shit load of stinging nettles in the field.

As you turn around and now knowingly look at the back of those stinging nettles, you notice that the shit on your shoe's has been wiped off by all the leaves.
Silver lining.

And of course, to finish off, we have the giant hay bales. The huge fuckers that seemed quite small, interesting and exciting from when you first looked at them all that time ago, during your primary steps in the field. Now they're massive. And because you have a burning curiosity you know that you're gonna have to climb them soon. Shit.

You doubt yourself. When comparing these huge monsters to everything else in the field, all those other things seem meaningless.
It is now when you have 2 choices.
1. You take on the hay bale full on. Gripping at it's side and trying to haul yourself to the top. You probably will fall, but then you'll just get up and try again.
Or 2. You'll do what most of us do and turn around. Trying not to think about the hay bales. Thinking instead of the beautiful daffodil and the smiling cow. You may even take another look at those things, and notice that they look a lot smaller now that you're further away.
The hay bale will never get smaller however. Everytime you look at it, no matter how far away you are, you will always remember it as a huge monster.

The hay bales are our goals and ambitions in life. Our "point" one might say. The size of them will depend on you as a person, cuz let's not forget, this story is in your head. I write a few words, but you're the one that fills in the blanks. The bigger they are, the more anxious you are about your goals and what you want to do. The smaller, then the more ready you are to take them on.

Throughout your journey in the field you have seen many things, from many different points of view. And you have been the one who has made that journey. You've walked away from the cow's and the daffodils and into the stinging nettles, not because you wanted to, but because you had to.
There is something deep down that gives you the desire to fucking run around this field as much as you can.

Follow. That. Instinct.

Pulling Advice

Other boys are constantly asking me, "Conor, how are you so successful with women? You are such a man-whore, can you rub some of that magic off on me?"

Okay so they dont.

But in all fairness, boy's do think about that kinda thing a lot. Boy's want to be attractive and sexy, just as much as girls. It's just they don't show it.

And if I was to give one tip for guys in trying to pull women (or other guys) it would be, be fucking happy.

Why? Well the first reason is that you smile. Smiling is the most attractive trait a person can have. No-one is ugly when they smile. No-one.

Even if you are the nastiest looking human being on this planet, if you smile, people will find you attractive. It's natural selection at it's best.

And the 2nd reason? If you are happy with how you are at this current moment, then it will show. And girls will love that. It means that you're not desperate or clingy with attention. It means that you are your own man. You are strong, happy and confident.

And if you truly feel that? Then you are one sexy motherfucker.

.....Quite literally too, if you play your cards right.

Incept Happiness

The concept behind Inception:

If I say "Try not to think of an elephant."
All you're gonna do is think of an elephant for the next few moments.
It's impossible, and proves that direct thought suppression just doesn't work. The more and more you try not to tihnk of something, the more you're thinking about it.
In fact, subconciously, you're gonna be thinking of an elephant all fecking day.

Now what's the life lesson you are trying to tell us here Conor? I hear you ask.

Well, remember when you had that bad day and you were crying because everything was going wrong? Everyone has one. And then either your best friend, or your mum, or whoever comes, puts their arms around you and says "Just try and forget about the bad times. Concentrate on the good times"

That makes sense doesn't it? As it'll make you happy for the next few seconds as your brain is caught up in the hope of the future.

But in doing so, your friend, or parent or whatever, has planted in your mind the concept of trying to forget bad times.
And you will never forget about trying to forget. It will stick with you forever, as thought suppression doesn't work.

So instead of tackling the bad times head on and sorting them out, you push them to the back of your mind as they begin to eat away at you, and subconciously, they will fuck you up.

Solution? There is none. Vicious circle and all that jazz.

Also, The Game.

The End.

So this is it.

45 days, and 45 blog posts later, I have finished my objective for lent.

So, was forcing myself to do something creative good?
Yeah, yeah it was.
The blogs may not have been to an amazing quality on some days, and some days they may have been short, but still every, every day I managed to come up with something new to write about.
And I didn't even try! They just sort of came.

It gave me a purpose in my thinking and my brain relished it.
I thought about hundreds of different things, and instead of just filling my head with a load of crap like usual, I actually challenged it at times.
Felt good man.

Looking back, I am very proud of what I've written.
I've surprised myself.

I recommend you to try a challenge too. It's worth it.

Now onto the next challenge. No stopping.
Technophobe week, here I come.

The Five W's

Who

I'm Conor Clarke. Internet name: Cleon Clarke.
Born in 1991. Have not much life experience to talk of.
I like to act. It's what I wanna do for a living. At the moment I work as a tutor.
Going university before the fee's raise.
I am 6'2" and weigh about 11 and a half stone.
Brown hair, brown eyes.
Fairly good at maths and science. Can speak a little German.

What

This is my blog.
It's called One Post At A Time, but it didn't start that way.
I first created a blog on Facebook, but found it unreliable.
Created this page, backdated all my Facebook blogs, apart from a few that I wasn't proud of and then put them on here.
I write about a wide range of stuff, but it's basically an amateur study into physcology, philiosophy and a whole lot of observation. I have no experience of studying either of those subjects.
I'll try to write in a comedic yet serious kinda way, but it depends on what mood I'm in.

Why

In late 2009, around November time, I was depressed.
I went to see a councillor in Leicester, and we had a few mini sessions.
He said I should begin writing about my thoughts.
So I did, and me being the attention whore that I am, I soon began posting them on the internet. I was proud of them.
My mental state now is okay, so now I'm just writing for the hell of it.
It's nice. It gives me something to do. I'm very proud of them still.

Where

In my bedroom, in Groby, Leicester. England.
I always write in my bedroom as it has a lazy yet relaxed feel to it.
I've written a few blogs in different places, but it's much harder.
My room is my creative hub, I guess.

When

Been writing since November 09.
My first blog was actually a poem called, Dead Fred.
It was about a man who got killed by zombies.
Since then, I wrote a blog on average at abotu 4 times a month, but since I left school, I had less time on my hands, and I ended up writing 2 a month.
Then I realised that I was just making up excuses about "having less time" and I wanted to do something for lent, so I've written one every day.

Balls To Be You

Me: "So who here feels vunerable?"
No one raises their hands.
"Didn't think so. Being vunerable is not seen as a strong personality trait to have. It's a very negative word, and unless someone wants to self deprecate themselves, they wouldn't use it."

Notice how I didn't think you, sat in your room, would be self deprecating? Course you wouldn't. People are invincible in their own room.

Vunerablity. The effect of feeling exposed to attack.

Attack from what?
A serial killer?
A rapist?
An idea?

Would you describe yourself as "an open book?"
You are open to ideas, friendly, creative, agreeable.

No. No you're not.
Your ideas are probably best, you're not gonna talk to any randomers without knowing a little bit about them and you are really tired and can't be fucked to do anything at the mo.
90% of the time.

We are all closed books.
Closed by the fear of someone in todays society writing shit in all our pages.

Only the bravest are vunerable.

Cheap and Cheerful

Watched this apprentice programme on CBBC couple of days back.
(I'm allowed to, I'm a tutor!)
It really pissed me off.

These kids were getting taught how to rip people off, trick them into buying stuff and pretty much just steal money from other peoples wallets.

Why the fuck is the world like this?
Why is money so precedent in making our own lives go round?

I appreciate that money makes the world go round.
But not people. We should be fueled by something better than that.
Money is corrupt from the word go, everyone knows that, and the second our lives center around it, won't our lives become corrupt?

My desire to live life and enjoy it, overpowers my desire for money. Every. Fucking. Day.
I however, am very alone in where I stand.

When I tell people I want to be an actor, I get the weirdest looks.
"You want to be an actor? Hahahah you're not going to earn any money at all!"

Fuck you.
I just have the balls to follow my dream, and haven't been brought down by the fucked up, money obsessive world we live in.

Enjoy your £30 an hour job. If you can.

I have a £6 an hour one. And I love it.

Grim

Death.
Being dead.
What happens after life?

Life is all we have, and death is a pretty major part in it. It affects us in every little thing we do. If we were never going to die, then I'd probably just sit on my arse all day, eat wotsits and wank. It'd be brilliant.
But it'd be empty, in all honesty.

Lots of different religions speak of an after life.

And they kinda need to.
The whole concept of religion is to find meaning, and give us normal folk hope in life. That's what all religions have to do. It's the point of them.
And therefore religions try extra hard to give us an after life, because death has very little hope. Fuck me it can be a scary thought.

Death is the one thing that if we were to look at ultra literally, we would come to the conclusion that there is no hope. You can't even have a "good" death, because you won't know if it's good or not. You'll be dead.
It is, the end of everything. Good or bad.

It's black. Forever.

But somehow, I'm not overly scared of death. Why is that?
I reckon I'm just dumbed down.

Baby Rebel

Anarchy is major theme in my blogs.
I admire the concept a lot.

It's a nice concept, of just not giving two shits about things, and going crazy and "giving it to the man."
It feels nice, you know.

But anarchy in excess can be bad. Which is kinda obvious really, but gimme a break! I've been writing a new blog every day for about 40 days and I'm beginning to run out of ideas!

In my current job, as a tutor, I work with kids a lot. From 4 to 14 years old.
I never thought I'd say this, but kids are brilliant, and they represent anarchy more literally than anything I could describe.

Most people love kids. They love the ignorance that they have, and the carefree attitude that they have. People can be jealous of the fact that kids have no worries in the world and that even if they did, they wouldn't give a shit.

However, as we all know, kids can get fuckin annoying. That carefree attitude can begin to grate on us and the fact that sometimes they don't listen can cause people to rage.
Their lack of independance too can be seen as a cute, admirable thing, until we get sick of being their helper.

Anarchy is the best thing when you are in a calm, relaxed, open mood. But when you're not and you're stressy, busy and pissed off, rules become important.

And if today's society is based on rules, then that must mean that today's society is a naturally stressy, busy and pissed off. Or something.

Busy Busy Busy

Busy busy busy.
I'm a busy man.
Busy busy busy.
I do ev'rything I can.
Busy busy busy.
Sometimes I don't stop.
Busy busy busy.
It makes my head go pop.

Now I could do the pretentious thing of saying "On days when you are really busy and going at 100mph, just stop for about 5 minutes. Stop and take a breather, or a cup'o'tea. Your body and mind will thank you for it."

But no.
That's wrong.
On days when you are busy and you have a thousand things to do, never stop. Stopping will cause your body to lose it's energy, and it's a pain to get it back.
When you stop, your body just wants to lie down...... all day.
Your mind is thick as fuck too, because as soon as that stops thinking, it goes Yay! Bedtime!

By all means get some food, and a drink to keep you hydrated and alive, but never just stop. Stopping is bad, because starting up again is really feckin hard.

Apocalypse

I've found the true point in life.
It's the dot above the i.

Sometimes it's hard to admit things to yourself. Things you don't wanna know.
Life is one of them.
Admitting to yourself that there is no point in life and that all it is, is a mixture of gut feelings and smiles while you go about your life and hope it's not that bad, is one that some people never admit. There's no point to really.
But life is really short, and death is eternal.

So what can we do?

Bugger all.
Hope for a heaven.
Become ignorant enough so we don't care.
Spend our lives on the edge and get the most out of it.

The phrase "Jesus is coming, look busy" rings true here.
Because I've found that the biggest challenge we face in making our lives "worthwhile" is aiming to not being bored enough to think about it.
The busier we are, the less we think about the end, and the happier and longer the present.

That's like, it. I think.