I Want a PlayStation!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Out of Your Reach.”
Was there a toy or thing you always wanted as a child, during the holidays or on your birthday, but never received? Tell us about it.

While I’m sure there were a lot of toys I wanted when I was really little, I don’t remember them.  I had a lot of toys growing up, so I’m sure the ones I really wanted, I got.

What I do remember desperately wanting and constantly being told “absolutely not!” was a PlayStation.  All my friends had them and I wasn’t allowed.  My mum believed they were a waste of time and if I got one, I’d never get off it.  She was probably right, but it didn’t mean I didn’t feel hard done by.  Why could all my friends have one and not me?

I tried pleading with her, sucking up to her, doing extra chores.  Nothing worked.  I even decided to do a school project on the history of the PlayStation…I don’t even know why I thought this might sway her stone-cold resolve.  This went on for years.  It wasn’t that mum was totally opposed to video games, as we had several for the computer, all of which she’d bought for us at one point or another.  I guess she just thought we spent enough time on the computer as it was playing them, that we didn’t need another gadget to kill time on.

We didn’t get a PlayStation until I was working, and I had to pay for it myself.  After years of wanting it, I scrimped and saved as much as I could, and finally got one.  By that stage, though, all my friends who’d had them for years had started outgrowing them, and the machine didn’t get as much usage as you’d expect.

I guess I’m just more of a PC gamer.  I don’t know whether that’s because that’s what I grew up with, or because I find they are easier to use, but even now, after buying another console a couple of years ago, don’t get very much use out of them.  The only real time they get turned on is when friends are over, and even then it doesn’t happen much.

I guess it’s like the old saying goes – “you only want what you can’t have”.  I only wanted it because I didn’t have it, and once I finally had it, it lost it’s appeal.  Lesson learnt!

“When Did You First Realise You Were a Writer?”

I don’t really remember when I first knew…I just always sort of have been.  I remember writing stories and drawing pictures for them when I was really little, and getting mum to print them out and I’d show my grandparents.  I remember one in particular was about two aliens.  I wish I had of kept it.

I guess writing just went hand-in-hand with my reading habits.  I was an extremely avid reader as a child.  I’d average between 2-3 books a week when I was about ten.  I’d borrow dozens of books from the library at a time.  When I wasn’t reading, I was writing, or imagining stories and drawing pictures.  I loved creating little worlds and characters and back stories.

As I entered high school, my reading habits died off a little bit, replaced with socialising and playing computer games.  With it also went my writing.  I enjoyed English classes and always excelled in them, but that was about the only writing I did, save for the occasional first chapter of a story I’d start then never go back to.  In year 10, I started writing poetry and songs as I tried to get back into it.  At the time I thought they were pretty good, but I’ve since looked back on them and they weren’t at all.

I’ve also dabbled in blogging on and off since I was about 16, first starting on MySpace, then Facebook, then on various other sites.  I never stuck with it all that long.  That’s my issue.  I get creative urges and then it goes away and I lose interest.  I think this blog is different because I am writing whatever I feel like, whenever I feel like, and I’m not linking it to my social media accounts, so I have an anonymity and a freedom that my previous blogs never did.  It makes things easier as I don’t feel like I need to sensor what I write or worry about what anyone is thinking.

I’d still love to write properly one day.  I think I’d be pretty good at it.  I just never know what to start, and I’m worried I’d start and lose interest like I always do.  For the moment, this blog will do.  I’m enjoying it a lot 🙂

This prompt, and many more, can be found here.

“What Are Your 5 Guilty Pleasures?”

My five guilty pleasures are:

  • Donuts.  Especially Krispy Kremes.  Oh god, they’re amazing.  And so calorie-laden that you feel guilty before even buying them.  I love them so much!
  • Tumblr.  While this isn’t something you’d usually put into the “guilty pleasure” category, the amount of time I can waste on that site is crazy.  There’s just so much good stuff on there and once you start you can’t get off it!
  • The Sims.  If I played it like a normal person, this wouldn’t be a guilty pleasure at all.  However, I’ve been playing it since I was 12, and have played all the boring storylines out to death.  So now, my sims all have crazy lives.  Twenty kids, random deaths in their family, sudden poorness, strange jobs, random hook ups and affairs.  I feel guilty inflicting it on them…but it’s so entertaining!
  • Snuggling with Toys. When I’m sad, I love cuddling with my old teddy and my new Build-A-Bear.  I guess it takes me back to childhood, and who doesn’t like to be taken back there sometimes?
  • Online Shopping.  It’s the mother of all guilty pleasures for me, as I spent money I shouldn’t be spending on stuff I really don’t need to be buying.  Nothing beats the feeling of the package arriving and it being full of discounted goodness!

What are your guilty pleasures?

This prompt, and many more, can be found here.

“Write a Letter to a Special Person in Your Life”

This was a letter I wrote awhile ago, in one of my depressed moods.  I wrote it knowing very well the person it was addressed to more-than-likely wouldn’t read or know about it.  It was just to get it off my chest – a coping mechanism I’ve used for several years when my head and heart feel like they’re exploding and overflowing with thoughts.  Things have changed a bit since then, but I felt like this is a fitting response to the prompt.  I might as well put it to some kind of use, even if it was never given to it’s addressee.

Hi,
You drive me crazy, do you know that? Probably not. I can’t stand not seeing you every day. I really can’t stand that we can’t even meet up regularly. I know, you’re busy and you’ve got this grown up job now and everything is coming up Milhouse for you. I hate that I’m once again in this painful situation of missing and hoping for something that probably isn’t there. It crosses my mind almost daily that I should just walk away. Block your number. Delete whatsapp. That would be the sensible MATURE thing to do, right? For all the joy you bring to my life right now, there’s at least an equal amount of disappointment and sadness. Surely that should be reason enough to move on? It isn’t though. Because sometimes you say or do something and suddenly…suddenly it reminds me why I’m in this situation at all. Granted you probably don’t even know you’re doing it. I’d even go so far as to suggest you’re trying your very best not to do anything like that because girls liking you makes you uncomfortable. Oh yeah, I noticed that. I’m not an idiot. I do find it kind of funny though…not haha funny, just…curious. Being on the bigger side myself, I’d give anything for someone to take an interest in me. Even if it’s awkwardly one sided. I just find it curious why you seem to push people who like you away? I’m not saying you should force something that isn’t there, I just…I would have thought your “big person” mentality may still be there somewhere. What would I know about that though? I didn’t know you then. It may sound funny to say, but I wish I did. Firstly, because maybe you’d have given me a shot…a proper shot. But secondly – and more importantly – because then maybe you’d believe I like you for who you are and not just because you’re super cute. Oh, that’s a plus, I’m not denying that, but you’re more than that. Infinitely more. You’re so funny. I could listen to you for hours and not get bored. And you’re cheeky. You’ve got the cutest smile when you do something naughty. And you’re so smart. World-smart, like you’ve experienced everything. You are always (infuriatingly at times) right. For me to admit that, as I’m sure you know, is a massive deal. I don’t like to be wrong. You’re patient, moreso than anyone I know. You know how to listen and how to respond. That is something that can’t be taught, no matter how much schooling or work experience you’ve had. You’re generous. You don’t mind spending money to make people happy. In this world, there aren’t enough people who understand the importance of that. You’re honest. God, guys your age need a lesson or two in that. It’s refreshing to be given a reality check once in awhile. It’s so nice to hear words come from someone else that you’ve been thinking all along instead of white lies to make you feel better. I guess what I’m getting at is, you are amazing on the inside, so who gives a fuck about the outside? I feel like you just assume anyone who likes you now only does so in a physical sense. I can appreciate that, and I’m also sure you have plenty of examples to back it up with. My point is, I’m not one of them.  I’ve gotten to know you pretty damn well and there isn’t a thing I’d change…well, except the uncomfortableness. I hate that we met the way we did though. I mean, I loved working with you and I enjoyed seeing your face every day, but I just feel like if we’d met in different circumstances, maybe things would be different. Do you remember way back at the start when we talked half the night and you bailed on a party to keep talking? Do you remember those times we could hardly catch our breaths from laughter?  Don’t tell me you didn’t feel something at some point. I saw it in your eyes. That’s why I wish we’d met under different circumstances. I know workplace relationships are a bad idea, and I certainly know how you felt about them. I wish we’d met at a party or through mutual friends or even – god forbid – Tinder. Just somewhere that let us be…I don’t know…free to see how things went. Properly. I feel like this is all being said too late. I always hoped deep down you’d say “fuck it” and ask me out anyway but I knew it wasn’t going to happen. You didn’t want to jeopardise your job. I get it. I mean it’s kind of funny now, given how everything turned out, but still. At the time, I get it. Oh I hope I’m not wrong about it all. It’s one thing to know you don’t feel that way now but it’s another thing entirely to know I was wrong all along. I’ve never been good at picking up signals but I know I caught you staring at me more than once and I know I certainly felt something between us. Please don’t say I imagined that.
Anyway, this turned into an essay. I could keep writing forever and still not fully explain everything. I guess the main point of all this is, I love you and I miss you uncontrollably and I just thought you ought to know. Or I guess, that I ought to tell you. Properly. Not someone else getting in your ear and sniggering as they tell you, as I’m sure has happened previously. I’m sorry about that. I should have been honest from the start, so that didn’t happen. It wasn’t fair on either of us. Too little too late as I’m sure this all is, I needed to get it off my chest. Maybe it’s not too late.

I found this prompt, and many more, here.