Day 5;

At the moment, I feel a bit like the Starship Enterprise in the middle of a battle, with phasers and torpedos (I think those are the right terms) aimed for direct hits, and the ship rocking around like...a ship in a gale. But in my Enterprise, William Shatner has fucked off to go make cereal adverts, Spock is having ear reshaping surgery and Scotty has had a few too many and is passed out at the controls. My shields are down, and my hyperdrive (I think that's Star Wars actually) is fucked, leaving me trapped by everything that's getting me down. It's worse that I can't seem to disengage the tractor beam that's holding me in shitville right now. Break that, and maybe some kind of space current (this is science fiction after all) might wash me away to somewhere else.

The latest setback looked like it was going to be a good thing, and turned out to be a catastrophic misjudgement on my part. Either that or I'm blameless and unlucky, and I don't know which. I'm not going into details, because I doubt you want to know. Even if you do, this is a blog, not a fucking agony aunt plea. I just wish things were just a teeny bit different, and I didn't get my hopes up so easily. As Paramore put it (my references today are pretty terrible, huh?) "For a pessimist, I'm pretty optimistic." I'm branded a doom monger, but I can almost always see hope in a situation. 2-0 with 5 minutes to go? Easy. 1000 words to write in an hour? Might as well have a cup of tea first, I can do 100 words a minute. Cute girl, out of my league, talking to me? Laughter works better than biceps, and the charm offensive always wins.

Maybe I should just not get my hopes up any more, and let my battered confidence just stay where it is, and let things happen around me, wholly apathetic. It would surely be easier than trying over and over, and being whacked back by the huge baseball bat that fate always seems to hit me with when she's lured me down the garden path. By walking down that path, you could say I open myself up for this kind of thing. "Tempting fate." That is bollocks. You can't tempt fate; if it's fate, it's happening anyway. That's what fate is. So I'm gonna go headlong and keep trying. I've not got much to lose, really. Murphy can have all the CIA's listening devices if he likes, he's not getting a fucking say. No mythical half arsed Irish named wanker is going to ruin my day again, and fate can hold what it holds. I'll face it with a knowing smile and shoulders square.

I bet Murphy, Fate and Lady Luck are all sat around, in their lair, like some kind of fucked up crime fighting team, drinking whisky, playing poker on a £15 poker set (bought in the Next sale) and scratching the parts of their Lycra that bulge far more than they did when the suits were made. Their ears are pricked right now, and they're probably scheming. Are you listening Murphy? Fuck off. And Fate? Feeling tempted? Do your worst. As for Lady Luck, I've given up trying to get anything from you, so you can take a long holiday where it's always dark and cramped.

Bring it on, Marvel's lost superhereos. You're nothing but 3 fat, old, redundant relics. Go join Santa and the Tooth Fairy, in the cultural dustbin where you belong.