I don't quite know when I started this blog, but every once in a while I remember how old it is. It's one of those strange things humans do as a need to mark the passing of time in their lives. You know, rites of passage, as if those little instants in time which we pin on as special, are really actually special. I mean, what's the significance of a 2 month anniversary of a relationship? Does that moment the minute hand strike 8.30 mean we suddenly grow two inches taller and our noses shrink? No, but wait a minute now, I'm babbling.

The point is, I guess they're mostly times for reflection and assessment. Now, if you've noticed, my blog's layout is actually quite stark. I refrained from serving it as plain vanilla because fiddling with a language I don't know (html) seems to be a wonderful waste of time, and being me, I always find time to waste my time.

But yes, it is lacking in those sidebar semi-bios and links and archives and whatnot. But the thing is, you're already on my blog. This is the closest you'll get to reading my thoughts. Do I need to package the contents of my life in a neat little packet and hand it to you with a sunshine smile? No, I'm too lazy for that. So no mini bio.

Perhaps I'm just not particularly kind to my readers (all 2 of you) for doing this. I think many other blogs are very accomodating to their readers. I respect this greatly because it shows that you care about the experience of other people when they open up the delightful bundle that is your blog. I'm not particularly kind to my readers when I write stories either (not that I expect an audience at all). The most obvious feedback I've gotten from my stories recently are that they are hard to understand. Perhaps this blog is more of me unloading my incessant, rambling thoughts that about entertaining people.

But then again, I don't expect an audience. Are you reading this? Because if you are, I would hate to be you.

There are actually a lot of times during the day when I think, "oh, it would be nice to blog about that." So I actually do put up an effort to make some sort of entertainment. But the thing is, when I actually do get the access and time to get on my keyboard and write this, whatever brilliant thoughts I must have had have entirely evaporated and I am left with some soggy, disgusting, mundane thing and being here already, I must serve it to you in its cold, repulsive state. Like this. It must be so utterly boring listening to me complain, but now I must apologise for all my ramblings of the past 4 years. I have seen what the subject of my entries have been, and I must apologise. I must also apologise for the gross abuse of English. I am sorry that my childish, adolsecent self turned the beauty into a whore.

So thus ends my complaining and apologies. Now to reward the fact that you have gone this far in exerting yourself to read this, I will tell you about the brilliant Stephen Fry.

Once in a while, perhaps to compensate for the banality of my life, I become completely engrossed, infatuated and obsessed in certain things. You have seen this so far, as my tennis fever peaks around January, and my cycling madness comes around mid year. But I do hate to talk of such things as if they were fads, since fads denote some terrible idea of trivialisation, as if the fruit of the moment would eventually rot and become infested with maggots. But I hope to stress that my enthusiasm is an expression of my genuine, childlike wonder and love. Once in a while, something triggers off an energetic fascination in the idea of living, and of life again. So it can't possibly be a bad thing.

Right now, I have been completely smitten by Stephen Fry, the brilliant writer/director/actor/comedian/tv presenter/general all round fascinating man/British national treasure. But I know my initial infatuation will mellow into a long term love, because I am not the only one in love with him. You only need to google him to realise his brilliance. And his brilliance doesn't just lie in his many talents. No, that is far from being the reason for my infatuation. It is his attitude, his tolerance, his openness, his understanding and enthusiasm for those around him and for life which is so amazing. And as one of his friends have said, despite his intellect, when you listen to him you don't think 'I wish I had gone to university'. You think 'god, I should read a book' or 'I should be better'. I mean, his intellect awakens the intelligence in you.

It is strange to kind of know of someone your whole life (I think we've all seen Fry before) but only just in one moment really recognise how great they really are. It's like a sort of wave, which nips at your feet and then when you get in further, it grows and grows until before you know it, it engulfs you.

And I know right now it might seem like I'm going overboard on the Fry-cult thing, but it is an amazing thing to be aware that you're changing how you think about life because something's triggered off the little wheels in your head. This mania actually really not about Stephen Fry. It's about that feeling of that genuine interest in life, of belief in humanity, of empathy, which we all once had but has since faded. I'm not sure if Fry himself even has this feeling, but I am sure he has been the trigger of this for me.

 I am positively excited about learning again. I feel like my 5 year old self when I was so enchanted by even the flowers I picked from my garden, to look onto the vista of the world with a real interest and excitement. I really hope this feeling doesn't fade. Because right now, as you can probably tell, I am as high as a kite.

Also, I didn't go into detail about Stephen Fry, because the man speaks for himself. It is one thing to list his accomplishments, it is quite another to have his intellect inspire you to become a better person. So I'll leave that up to you.

And for one last time, I'm sorry for this blog. I will try to write something more interesting later.