Why did I have Frank Ocean’s “Pyramids” in my head this morning, and what led me to adapt the words of it’s hook, “She’s working at the Pyramid tonight,” to “I’m going to the library tonight?” As with all of the random things that I do, there is some reason for it. While bleary eyed and somewhat headachy this morning, I was looking up the latest ARC Weekly Top 40, and I saw that Frank Ocean had a top 40 hit right now on that chart as a guest artist on someone’s song. Frank Ocean is the sort of soulful and creative performer that is appreciated by tastemakers but somewhat obscure to the general public, and though I am far less cool than most of his audience, I do happen to have liked the work of his that I have heard, “Pyramids” being my favorite song of his so far, and it just so happens that I am going to the library tonight . The original hook of the song, as may be guessed, is a reference to the nocturnal employment of a woman in the adult entertainment business, and as the Pyramid is not the sort of establishment where I spend a Friday night, or any other night for that matter, I figured the song would be more appropriate if I substituted my own activities for those referred to in the song.
Why am I going to the library tonight? It is not as if it is an unusual experience for me to go to the library, after all, so why should it be so special that I mention it today? Well, a perfect storm of events made a trip to the library imperative today. Last night, I made the logistics arrangements for the next month as far as where to stay, as my mum is coming to town and when she does so I stay with some friends in the boondocks and make a long commute. Unsurprisingly, a long commute means a vastly higher use of audiobooks, which I obtain from the library. In addition to this, I have eight books finished and reviewed from my last library run and a book I had placed on hold that just arrived for me last night as well. All of this makes a trip to the library, even though the library closes early on Fridays, a rather likely occurrence. Depending on the timing of my various errands for the evening, I may be able to do a bit of blogging from the library as well.
Why would I consider these other errands I have as some sort of quest? As I implied above, I seek to imbue my often rather mundane and ordinary existence with the air of adventure. As someone who has a lot to do and generally does not have a great deal of energy to do it, I find it more necessary than most people to give an air of romance to those activities I do. What for some people would be the fairly ordinary driving around for books and food I consider part of the quests of my existence, not least because my days are filled with so many awkward interactions (Sabbaths in particular) and what should be ordinary errands take on sometimes tragicomic tone . Today I had a brief chat with my roommate, in which I failed to tell him about my plans for next month–I might write him a short note when I pay rent this evening. After work I need a haircut, have that trip to the library planned, and then will be back around for a trip to the credit union and dinner at Panera to finish the quest I have been on to get a free pick two while I enjoy a relaxing evening doing some in some quiet corner of the restaurant with a plug for my lappy.
Why is that I feel this post is the sort of memoirs of a mild aspy that is not of interest to that many people? And why do I write it anyway? For one, I tend to be a sufficiently compulsive person that writing allows me to make some sense of life, even if it is not very interesting to others. The other part is, I hope, considerably more interesting. All of my life I have been intensely socially awkward, in ways that have brought others a great deal of humor and entertainment when I am witty and expansive, and as brought me a great deal of difficulty since those things I most desperately want to tell I find particularly difficult to say. For whatever reason, it is easier for me to type out what I am thinking and feeling than to say it. Somehow, forming the words and vocalizing them is a more difficult process. Likewise, a great deal of my errands, like going to the library as well as finding a quiet corner to eat in, are made because I have an immense sensitivity to sound. While I find it difficult to modulate the loudness of my own voice, I am remarkably easy to startle with sounds, as happened this morning when I was made a bit jumpy by some surprisingly early puttering around in the kitchen. Being a highly anxious person who is easily startled and has a hard time verbalizing matters, I prefer either silence or time spent with people around whom I am less awkward than usual. I hope at least that my preferences may be understood.
Why am I still writing this entry? One would think that every drop of meaning out of a mundane day like this one would be bled out at this point, like the wooziness I feel after an all-too-frequent nosebleed. There is much about the day that I have not mentioned–the fact that it was an immensely slow day at work where the imminent departure of one of my office friends, a fellow socially awkward technically inclined person, was announced to our department, or the fact that my day began with turning off an alarm and then watching a humorous YouTube video on “In The Summertime” by Mungo Jerry that was released early this morning by Todd In The Shadows, or the book reviews I wrote or the oddly staggered lunch breaks and general unproductivity among many of the work day, an entirely unsurprising fact, or any other number of subjects to mention. Given the finite amount of time and energy that exist to write, everything written is a selection of what could have possibly been written. If all that was written could be written about all of our lives, even the most mundane one, then it would take many books, perhaps even an infinite number of them, to be filled with the details and interpretations of the thoughts and feelings and actions that shape and determine our lives. But why this entry, and why this format? As it happens, this particular post is an example of two forms of writing and analysis: a somewhat unconventional five paragraph essay and an example of the analysis technique known as the five whys. Now you know at least some of the reasons why I write and live as I do.
 This is not an unusual occurrence. See, for example:
 See, for example: