"All men by nature desire knowledge." - Aristotle

Of course all men desire knowledge, too bad knowledge and wisdom are two completely different things. Wisdom is finally realising that you lack most knowledge. Wisdom is admitting that you know absolutely nothing.

Unfortunately, the people who have the most knowledge are the ones that tend to go furthest in today's world but they tend to be too thick to enjoy it. They expect their rewards rather than truly appreciate them most of the time. Most of them know that they are knowledgeable and therefore they are no wiser than the child who is dependant on his parents. Often, in fact, you will find that these great and knowledgeable men and women rely on someone else who is always behind the curtain.

I will never claim to be either particularly knowledgeable or wise unless in good humour because I know what that one particular claim can lead to, expectations. As I've previously mentioned, these people expect their rewards. Living a life that leads one to be completely cynical about pretty much anything has made me realise that I am a lesbian .. wait, that's not it ... it has made me realise that no expectations equal no disappointments ... yes, that's it. I first heard about this from a television show - hear that? TV did something right for once - and I pondered about how right this really is.

I have never chosen to expect anything but sometimes I tend to mistakenly expect something out of humanity* and find myself let down. I say humanity because expecting material things is just plain dim. I expected that knowledgeable people would be reliable at what they are supposed to do but, it turns out, that they aren't.

In other news:

I finally got a date for my operation about 3 weeks after the professor said I would and it is for 3 weeks or so from now. I will most probably be posting blogs through gritted teeth because that's just the kind of loyal blogger I am.

On that note,
Good Evening the Interwebz.

*Benjamin's feelings got hurt that I mentioned humanity so in order to mend him, let me just say that it is usually people themselves rather than humanity as a whole that are a let down.

“If you have any thoughts or opinions on what you’ve seen in the last ten weeks, do please keep them to yourselves.” - Jeremy Clarkson

Ok so it's been 2 weeks, not 10, but you get the picture. I know I set a minimum post limit and whatnot but what am I supposed to do? Write through writer's block? Mediocre writer's block, at that?

I am oddly inspired by my good friend - I refuse to call him my best friend because that term should be reserved for people I actually like - and his blog. Although his posts are irregular at best and don't make any modicum of sense most of the time, they keep me reading.

Some might argue that we are both equally good at how we write but we can't seem to agree. He thinks my writing is ridiculous and I think his is too pompous, yet I still read his with a smile on my face and his voice in my head. I can't speak for him because I don't know what that arrogant prick gets off to in his mind as he reads my blog posts.

We both have our own individual writing voices. Some people take years of training to develop theirs and others never manage but while his has always been critical, mine started out plainly artistic. Only now am I truly venturing into the critical side of writing.

I would like to end this on a very factual note. Jeremy Clarkson is awesome.

Goodnight the interwebz.

"The fear really hits you. That's what you feel first. And then it's the anger and frustration." - Charles Bronson

This evening I am simply going to directly quote an email/message thing I sent just to sum up my main thoughts at the moment.

"Due to the collective mental retardation of the Maltese medical system, no one knows when my fucking operation is due. It wouldn't be this annoying if it were a proper mistake but having your surgeon cousin call and say, "Yeah, the specialist never came to work ...", tends to be a bit fucking frustrating. Henceforth, RANT MODE ON!


OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


Stupid bloody medical douchebags. Honestly? He never came to work? What the fuck was he doing? Just shows up when he pleases because he has a fucking alphabet in front of his name and a "Dr." just before it, eh? Why bother going to fucking work regularly like normal people? God knows you are the largest cocked, piece of shit surgeon on this god-forsaken planet.

Also, I wouldn't be this annoyed if it were just a routine thing, but when something's been annoying a person for over 6 months and this whole operation prepping thing has been going on for at least the past 2 months, you'd think the one person that needs to make a call to give a fucking date would be there, but noooooooo! It's not their fucking arse that is on the line, it's anyone else's and they couldn't be fucked to show up in an office or even make a simple bloody call.

Rant mode off. I'm sure you enjoyed it."

You may notice this is written much more informally than my usual writing here, but that's how I roll.

Good evening the interwebz.

"I'd rather regret doing something than not doing something." - James Hetfield

As I look onto the sea of utter chaos that is my house after a very eventful evening, I can't help but wonder ... was it really worth it?

There are a few things I can't help but think about and cringe. Let's just say I have a long evening ahead of me. Again. My place is a wreck and I audibly groan at the sight of my living room and the state of my potentially ruined leather reclining sofa. It was someone's (Zak Pulis) bright idea to jump on it in some form of makeshift pile-up gag, and now it's busted. A joy to try and fix. I will boggle my mind with that later however, because the most pressing issues lie in just cleaning the bloody mess.

Then again, if this hadn't happened, Sara wouldn't be yelling at my Playstation. Something along the lines of, "Why are the police after me?! FUCK! A helicopter!". I find this amusing. Either because it really is amusing or because I feel so superior. Or both.

The regret of passing up some fun while the house is mine would still, arguably, be greater than that of knowing I have a lot to clean up and take care of after the fun, but that reality is a little hard to see at this very moment. I can't really call anyone in my family to help and exhaustion is taking its toll. "Gotta love insomnia", I tell myself as my arm slips off my desk and I punch myself in the jaw.

I don't believe in luck, but if I did, I'd ask you to wish it for me, so good afternoon the interwebz.