The assuredness of my boring life

It would no doubt be easy to assume that my life is one huge rollercoaster ride from the posts I write. In fact it is not, more often than not it is just the ordinary everyday humdrum existence of the average human being. And so to prove this I have decided to outline my weekend and the lessons I have had this week in order that you may all sit bored to tears in front of this blog (note also the grey text colour above). [As an aside the girl next to me just let off one of the biggests farts I have ever heard in my life - and she prefaced it by saying: 'oh dear' several times so that we began to feel sorry for her. Little did we suspect that such a foul fate was about to befall us].

So, last weekend:

Friday night - finish work and decide to watch film with friends. Decline film in order to choose Eddie Izzard show. Warn all concerned that the content of such, although hilarious is quite 'coarse'. Herein consisted my first mistake: people don't listen because they are too interested in what they're about to say next. And so after negotiating the use of a tv and room we sit down to watch. 10 minutes and many tears of joy later one of the team leave. 10 minutes later a further member leaves. 10 minutes later our senior tutor enters the room. From the way she stalks past the large glass windows and scowls as she pointedly sits down in the middle of the room I cunningly deduce that she is not happy. The once joyous atmosphere is turned to ice in seconds like a warm bread roll dropped into a pot of liquid nitrogen, and a slow dread creeps over my life.
10 minutes later said film is turned off. I am in trouble again.
Go home. Get to bed after working at approximately 1am. Sleep.

Saturday morning: get up early to get ready to film for the tv episode I am putting together. Through a series of crazy time juggles I have managed to nail down the two people we need in order to film - a feat not less than impressive.
Reach media office, discover it locked. Hunt down keys and gain entry. Gather equipment and leave to film. All goes surprisingly well. Get action footage. Reposition lounge room of said people, film them for an hour and a half getting some excellent footage. By lunchtime I am finished and head back to media office. On the way there am scared almost witless by a hulking monster appearing out of the incredibly dense fog that currently hangs over our little village and makes seeing nigh on impossible. Monster turns out to be the tutor from last night who wants to buy me coffee at the chalet. I deduce from process that I am in trouble. *Again*.
Drop equipment off and go to chalet.
Have hour long 'chat' and have to explain my conduct, defend my choice of keyboard player for Sunday, and rework all the songs we're doing because someone has requested that we add another one into the middle of out set. Fine.
Miss lunch. Go straight to Sunday band rehearsal stopping off to get keyboard and guitar. Discover that sustain pedal is on the blink. 2 hours on rehearsal. 1 hour on another rehearsal for playing guitar at the art gallery opening taking place on Sunday afternoon - learn 5 new songs and rewrite 2 of them in order to make them fit.
Head back to media office to check film. Discover that the angle and shot is all wrong and that it is unusable. Will have to film it all again. Next time take a more competent camera man - or just check camera angles before interviewing and stop passing blame. Immense depression sets in.
Skip tea and drive to ************* in order to help run youth cafe. 5 o clock. Set up youth cafe, run said youth cafe, pack down said youth cafe. Feel like a failure for my total lack of skill at working at youth cafes. Feel crap for not getting to spend time with ******* whom I have an unfortunate emotional attachment to (some call it love apparently). Return home and message said girl for some time until my exhausted frame can take no more and I get to sleep at 2 am.

Sunday morning: 7:30 am - alarm goes off. I attempt to sit up and discover that someone has placed an enormously tight steel band around my head in the night without me noticing. Damned clever if you ask me. Stumble to bathroom (which involves a trip outside) and have shower. Upon closer inspection in mirror there is no band around my head, it's just a headache. Get to church for 8:30, re-set up all sound gear that was taken to youth cafe the night before, start practice (singers are late). Drummer leaves half way through service to do kids work. Have enormous revelation about sin and beauty and why on earth God loves us and am left a gibbering wreck. Learn new inserted song as we go. Finish playing. Go for lunch at chalet - am almost stood up by the Lick who has decided to spend time with 'the spoon'. I convince her otherwise by whining.
Cheesecake and a fire make me feel better then I go psycho from too much sugar. Practice for art gallery opening, go to art gallery opening. Forget that it is winter and so fingers freeze to claws making playing guitar impossible. Turn up distortion so no one can tell. [Sound technician turns distortion down so people can hear]. Am interrupted during the second verse of 'this love' by someone asking me if I wrote it. Unfortunately I am unable to concentrate on more than 2 things at once (playing a song I don't know and stopping myself from laughing at the Lick who 'tried her best to feed her appetite, to keep her coming every night...') and can only make a sort of distorted face plus grunt as a feeble attempt at communication. I fear that they will not be asking us back.
Have break, discover that someone has eaten all the cake. Practice again and warm hands. Play again with a lot more sucess - joined by strange dance troupe who insist on standing in a line behind me and doing some sort of demented chicken impression. Pack up all gear and head for home.
Shower. Sleep. Eat dinner at some point. Sleep again. Fail test next morning due to lack of revision.

Occupational health and safety - 'so if you were running a daytrip you could have an activity like this where you slide down a hill, off a ramp and land in a lake. But your risk assessment would lead you to conclude that that would be a stupid idea because it would be too dangerous so you scrap it.' Accompanied by the following drawing on the board: [drawing fails to upload - imagine previous post]

I am filled with a strange sense of deja vu and embarrassment.

Life continues as normal.

(All events portrayed in my blog are entirely fictitious and any resemblence to people or places now existing or having had existed is entirely coincidental)