board game

The humble board game

I was having a good little ponder this morning about my blog and how it has become far too serious for my liking. Naturally I’m not a particularly serious person; I have my moments, of course, but in essence I live my life in search for a good chuckle. So why, then, does my blog not reflect this? To give credit where it is due, my blog is charming in its own little way, I won’t deny it this compliment. It’s an eclectic mix of musings, reflections and appreciations that I have grown rather fond of. But humour is missing and now that I have noticed this, its absence is getting to me. So if you will allow (and even if you will not, for by the time you are given the chance to form an opinion, the deed will already be done), I am now going to rectify this situation.

I was talking to my boyfriend about what I should write in my next blog and (bless him for the crazy mind he has) he suggested “a blog about the culture of games and how it has evolved over time”. It is an intriguing and original idea, however I must admit that on the regular this would be one of the last topics I would choose to write about… which is exactly why I am going to write about it. Allow me to take you on an adventure through my ponderings on a topic I know nothing about.

With my absence of knowledge or opinion on this topic, as any perfectionist and/or curator of useless information would do, I googled it. Due to the wonders of the internet and people with opinions on topics that are wildly under-acknowledged, your girl now has a basis for reflection.

From what we know, the first board game was invented in Predynastic Egypt, around 3000BC.  It was the early form of Backgammon, called Senet. However, this is also something we don’t know for sure because some people argue that the first board game was in fact a form of dice, originating in Turkey around 5000BC. Whether or not we know the exact date is beside the point. What I am here to point out is that no matter how much our lifestyle has transformed over the last few millennia, we still share with our ancestors an appreciation for the ever-humble board game. What is interesting, however, is that in these ancient times, board games were tied into politics and religion because even then the human race had a tendency to spoil even the most simple of things with these very topics.

Senet was used by Ancient Egyptian Pharaohs who believed strongly in the concept of fate. The people related a win in a game of Senet back to the strength of the Pharaoh’s protection under the great Egyptian gods. If you lost… well they probably didn’t make that publicly known; preventing widespread fears of godly smitings is always a good idea. In 3000BC, when the working class began to join the board game bandwagon, they started being tied into religion with a key example being Mehen. This game represented the deity Mehen who was known to the Sun Cult as a huge serpent who liked to wrap himself around the sun god (Ra) to protect him. But then somewhere in there, the god and the game became so tied up with one another, no one really quite knew which one came about first. Was the game inspired by the god or was the god inspired by the game? If the latter, I hope one day that there will be a seat for me in the great church of Catan.

In modern times, although some of us may find an interest in playing a round of Monopoly with Trump (or dabbling in the online game brought to you by the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster), essentially we have simplified the board game (and for modern time’s sake, the online/video game) back down to its true essence: away from politics and religion and back to a mode of socialising. Even video games, which were once known as the tool of the antisocial to avoid society, have now become more open to interaction with an increase in multiplayer and interactive gaming (my heartfelt condolences to the antisocial).

It’s funny how simpler times brought about a complication of the simple things and in more complicated times, the simple things are appreciated for their simplicity. I am personally very grateful to the humble board game. Thank you for taking away the awkward silence in a dull party. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to appreciate the wit and brilliance of the people we surround ourselves with. And thank you for flipping tables since 1902 (the invention of Monopoly). I am glad that there has been a resurgence in board games and social video gaming. It brings about a moment of happiness for everyone and draws out the side of a person’s personality that is so often crushed or hidden under the weight of every day. So thank you, games, for making humanity great again.

So there you go, friends. That has been my pondering on a topic I now know a little too much about.

Stay fun,
Stay brilliant,
Play a board game.

-Alice

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That one person

Sometimes it is important that we reflect on things that make this happiness so wonderful. Those moments of emptiness, moments of inexplicable sadness and moments of incomprehensible loneliness that add a touch of brilliance to every smile, to every laugh and to every friend.

Some of you might recognise those words. They’re an excerpt from the most popular blog I ever posted, The beauty in sadnessI want to ponder this concept again, from a different angle. I would like to focus on the brilliance in one particular smile, one particular laugh and one particular friend.

The luckiest people in the world have the privilege of having that one person. The one person who makes you feel safe, who melts your troubles away with a simple laugh and whom you just want to hug when things aren’t right. They could be a sibling or a best friend or a partner. Up until this year, I could never boast the privilege of having that one person. I was both perpetually single and terrible at maintaining friendships outside of group contexts. Whilst there were people to hug and people to share inside jokes with, they weren’t that one person.

Now I find myself sitting here in a moment of exhaustion-induced melancholy. Overwhelmed by a desire to just curl up in a ball and disappear, the fault of life rather than circumstance. In this particular moment, I find myself craving the warm glow of that one smile and that one laugh from that one person. The overwhelming happiness that seems to exude from them when they enter a room. Their positivity and their good humour that just draws people in. The personality that seems to weave its way through everything, even their carefully maintained hair. The cheekiness in every smile and gesture. The warmth of every glance. The safety of their arms.

Whilst it is an honour and a privilege to say that I have that one person, I must now add that it is quite an inconvenience when they are otherwise disposed and all you want is a hug. But as I have sat, curled up on my bed, describing to you that one person and pondering everything about them that makes me so incredibly lucky, melancholy has turned to contentedness. Contentedness to happiness. So thank you to my curly haired legend of a boyfriend for cheering me up when, at this particular moment, you had no idea it was even necessary. Thank you for giving me every reason to smile and every opportunity to laugh. Thank you for having a personality that is so incredibly friendly and happy that it has an overwhelmingly positive effect on other people, not just me. Finally, thank you for being generous, kind hearted and curious. Thank you for being brilliant.

I hope you all find that one person. Whether they are a sibling, a best friend or a partner. In that person,

Find happiness.

Find laughter.

Find brilliance.

-Alice

On a pondering that shouldn’t have been outwardly pondered

It has been a very long time since I last updated this blog. That is because I use it as a way of artistically communicating my thoughts so that people can not only be engaged but can be carried on a journey through my thoughts, my imaginings and my emotions whether they be happy or otherwise. Honestly, nothing has inspired me enough to take this challenge on, these past few months. Until now. So y’all had better sit down, strap in your seat belts and prepare yourselves.

Before I begin, you must understand that I have an immense fear of confrontation. As well as this, if I am in a conversation where too many strong opinions are being expressed, I start to feel physically ill. When I was in grade 12, I had to leave my Study of Religion classroom because I felt so unwell from all of the feminist arguments being tossed about the place that I feared I was going to throw up. This is the level of discomfort I get to.

So anyway:

When you are like me, and you have differing views on many things, you get used to staying silent. Especially when you know every idea or concept you voice will just be crushed under a stampede of the standard ideals. Occasionally, however, in the hopes to bring back thought and fire to an otherwise one-sided and wildly repetitive conversation, you may make the mistake of voicing your thoughts. What then happens is the inevitable. The stampede. An innocent challenge-to-thought is seen as a direct and wounding blow to the other side. Is received as either condescending, misguided or in other (more wounding) cases, inferior and uneducated. Every time this happens, I get this feeling inside. It’s not anger. It’s not irritation. It’s not pain. It is simply emptiness. The kind of emptiness that reveals itself as disappointment. Disappointment because when you are placed in a situation that encourages talking and thinking and challenges, you are still forced to stay silent. Disappointment because no matter how hard you try to be respectful of everyone else, of their thoughts, of their beliefs, you know you are never going to receive the same back. Disappointment because you know that you have to pick the right time and the right place to pose these kinds of cognitive challenges but you also know that no one will ever be pleased with your selected time or place, no matter how seemingly reasonable. Disappointed because in a  moment of complete desperation to overcome the discomfort inside you, you do the one thing that will bring you to an even higher state of discomfort, opening every back door to every form of fear residing within the idea of confrontation.

It is one of the most crushing things to have my kind of analytical-mindset mixed with my heightened fear of confrontation. But at the same time, I suppose my fear is a blessing. Because from one bad experience to the next I am consistently reminded that it’s not worth it. My food for thought is not worth the trauma and the discomfort that its voicing brings. No matter how carefully I phrase something so that I can shape it later, if I have to, to make everyone else happy… No matter how much I sit back and analyse a situation before I even consider voicing a contrary thought… No matter how much discussion is encouraged, it is never worth it. It is never worth that crushing feeling. That loss. That discouragement. That complete and utter emptiness. The accusations that you are there to start an argument, to belittle someone else or to make some kind of point just to be contrary.

My ideas on many things are unconventional. My views on many things are vastly open, carefully justified and immensely understanding with regards to other, more conventional trains of thought. I suppose that is all that needs to be known. As long as people understand this, I need not move to specifics. And I know now, that I will do my best in every situation to avoid specifics. Because it is not my intention to judge nor to hurt. Nor is it my desire to be judged or to get hurt.

In typical Alice fashion, I will round this blog off with a nod towards the reason I started blogging in the first place. I have always said that there is brilliance in everything. The big, the small, the happy, the otherwise. I suppose there is brilliance in this too. Because as wounding as it was and, in fact, still is, I learnt something and I helped others to see something maybe a little bit differently. Even if it didn’t go too well, it was still an experience worthy of acknowledgement and further pondering. That, to me, makes it brilliant.

That is all from me
Be happy
Be thoughtful
Stay brilliant

– Alice

Musings on a train

Sometimes I have days where I just want to write. I have no agenda, no purpose and no story to tell. Merely an urge to get words on paper and feel the familiar click of the keys beneath my fingers. Now how does one go about writing a piece for which they have no purpose or prior plan? The only thing for it is to just write. To type without a further thought. To look away from the screen and gaze off into the distance as you type whatever comes to your head.

As I write this, I am gazing out the window of a train, on my way to the middle of nowhere for another day of work. From where I sit, I watch the steady transformation from sleek inner city suburbs, to industrial sites, to dirt hills and rundown sheds. From this gradual transformation, one would think that I am on a long journey, to far away from home. However, it is a mere 25 minute trip. It is funny that such a massive transformation can occur within such a short distance. That one group of people are living an entirely different lifestyle to those only a 10 minute train ride away.

When I was younger, and I admit I still do it on the occasion, I used to pass my time by watching people. Now as creepy as this may sound, it was actually a rather good exercise in imagination and creativity. I would sit and watch someone going about their business. I would observe how they pour their tea, how many sugars they take, how long they wait for it to cool before they drink it. I would observe how they react to other people and how they communicate with them. After all of this I would begin to develop a life story for them. What kind of childhood they had, where they grew up, what their happiest and saddest memories were. I would think about what they might be doing that day – did they have an important interview or a 25th wedding anniversary or was it just another day. All of these things would rush to my head and I would feel a familiarity in that person. I would see the importance of their existence in the vast web of time and humanity. I would realise that they were not just a person. They were a person who thought thoughts, who made decisions and who influenced people in a way that could change the entire shape of the present and of the future. They were a cog in the clockwork of existence.

Even if the story I gave them was entirely inaccurate, there was always one thing which stood true. The implication. The implication that every person has a connection with people and an influence on the world which no one else could mirror. Every aspect of their life, the big and the small, has the power to alter and transform the web of time and the clockworks of existence.

I am now at the point where my musings must conclude for my journey is almost to an end. I have not looked once at my computer screen or my keyboard, but merely written every thought that has flourished, as it has come to me. It is incredible what the mind comes up with as you stare out the window of a train. Thankyou for joining me on my journey and I hope that you will take the time to make some of these observations yourself. It has the power to liven up your perspective of life.

Be happy and gaze out a window.

-Alice

Of friends and fun

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote an article called ‘the beauty in sadness’ and I talked all about how there is an importance in having a contrast between the happy and sad moments in your life, so that you can fully appreciate the happy times. Well prepare yourselves to witness this contrast in the form of a far more happy blog post, because yesterday I had one of these wonderfully happy moments and I thought I had better share.

Have you ever just looked around a room full of your friends and family and thought to yourself ‘by gum, I have an amazing taste in friends and I can’t believe all of these people are in my life. I’m the luckiest person out’? Because that was me last night.

You see, it was my birthday. Actually that’s a lie. It was a few days prior to my birthday but we were celebrating anyway. For weeks I had been cooped up in the house; not seeing many people; spending my days cleaning and baking and performing general party preparations. It was exhausting and by the end of it, I was sad and lonely and longing for the opportunity to see people again. So when I was suddenly surrounded by so many wonderful people, it made me reflective.

For this reflection to make sense, I should probably explain something. I see myself as a floater. I have a lot of different friends in a lot of different places. I love them all. I drift from group to group and have a great time with everyone without ever being ridiculously close to one or two people. I have never been the sort of person to have a best friend. I just have a million amazing friends who I wouldn’t trade for anything. But this also means that I have a fear. I have a fear that as a floater, there will be a time where I drift away or where I will be left behind because I was the fun drifter who made life interesting but never had a particularly close bond to anyone. Now this is ridiculous because I love everyone so much that I would never allow this to happen but in the human mind, this fear is sometimes inevitable.

But last night, as 40 of my most favourites gathered to celebrate and have fun with me, all together for the first time, I was reminded of something. I was reminded that although I have approximately five different groups of friends and no best friends, they all have one thing in common. They love me and this love is returned. Also, they’re all ridiculously fun and brilliant to be around… but this is merely an additional observation and superfluous to expressing my point.

A couple of my friends said last night “wow, you have a lot of people who love you.” I do. A lot. And I love them all back, equally as much. Sometimes I think I might lose them and sometimes I think I’m not as close to them as I might think. But don’t we all share this worry? It is the simple getting together of friends, watching everyone work together, laugh together and enjoy eachother’s company which reminds us of how brilliant our relationships are and how lucky we are. So thankyou to all of the people who are in my life – you mean more to me than you could imagine. Thankyou for your smiles, for your banter, for your fun and for your personality. I’m lucky and I know it. Although I don’t have a best friend and sometimes I fear becoming lonely because of this, I know it will never happen because neither I, nor my friends will let it.

I hope this can remind you of how important you are to someone and of how important it is to surround yourself with people, whether it be lots of people or just a few.

Stay happy and look after your friends!

-Alice

The beauty in sadness

You know that feeling of intense loneliness you get sometimes? When you’re just sitting there minding your own business and then something just triggers inside you and you feel empty; as though someone had accidentally left, open, the window to your soul and all the contents just flew away? I get that surprisingly often and it is often then partnered with the urge to hug someone. Someone who isn’t there.

I started out this blog with an opening post talking about how I have too much happiness in me and how I want to share this with other people so others can enjoy life as much as I do. Believe me, that happiness is still there and I still have so much to share. But sometimes it is important that we reflect on things that make this happiness so wonderful. Those moments of emptiness, moments of inexplicable sadness and moments of incomprehensible loneliness that add a touch of brilliance to every smile, to every laugh and to every friend.

Sometimes in these moments, I feel as though I put more effort and more love into people than I will ever get back. I feel as though I focus all my energy on trying to get responses from people who will always be too busy or too distracted to have much to do with me. I feel as though some people make me so much happier than I make them and that some people are worth more to me than I am to them.

But it is in these moments that I remember the others. The people who I don’t have to put so much effort into hassling for a response because they are so much more open with their love and their support. It is at these times that these people seem to be worth so much more. Are so much more amazing.

What’s more, the people who you put all of that effort into, who seem like a dead weight dragging you down… well sometimes you’re that effortless friend to them, who makes them smile in that moment of loneliness. That, in itself, is brilliant.

As I sit here writing this, I feel that void in me. But as I have written, its edges have softened and I am reminded of just how lucky I am, how many friends I have and how much I am loved. I hope that this can be a reminder to you as well.

Life continues to be brilliant, even in the moments of darkness. You just have to learn to see the light and if there isn’t one, be one.

Be happy and always love,

-Alice

The Good Samaritan

Everyone knows that one of the most brilliant things in life are the good samaritans of the world, who do something amazingly nice for you and just put a massive smile on your face. Well, today I was lucky enough to stumble across my very own good samaritan. I suppose it’s story time.

I was in the car with a couple of friends and we were leaving a shopping centre car park. Looking down at my phone and not paying much attention to the rest of the world, I suddenly felt this massive bump on the driver’s side. Thinking to myself ‘my my, we must have hit the curb pretty hard’, I looked up to see that I was wrong. To my great surprise, we had not actually hit a curb. We had been T-boned. With all passengers safe and sound, we drove around the corner and parked in the Bob Jane T-marts Supercheap Autobarn carpark, next door. I was guarding the car whilst my two friends went to deal with the fun proceedings of car accidents. I was summoned over to bring the driver’s licence and decided, in my rush, to leave my bag in the unlocked car because what were the chances that someone would come in and steal it.

However, everyone knows that the dear lord has a wonderfully cruel sense of humour, and when we came back to the car, sure enough, my bag was gone. Now I wasn’t shaken by the accident and I wasn’t worried about my safety but as soon as I saw my bag was gone, I was cranky. Luckily I had my phone and my beloved sunglasses but my wallet and all other bag things were missing. We checked the car numerous times and wandered around on a hunt for it but the bag was nowhere to be seen. Now I was vengeful.

In our searches, we had left the Autobarn carpark but we decided to go back to have another look. As we came back, there was a guy there, on the phone. He heard us talking about my bag, hung up and gave us quite a nice little story. He said that he was an Autobarn employee and that, a little while ago, an alarm had gone off inside the shop so he came to check it out. He saw our car and thought it had been stolen so when he saw my bag, he decided to take it into the shop and lock it under the register so it was safe.

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Sadly I didn’t get his name, but he left this card on the bonnet of the car in case I came looking for my bag when he wasn’t there. I would just like to take this opportunity to give a shout out to all the people who have ever done something like this for someone before. He could have left my bag and given it no second thought but he went out of the way to protect the belongings of someone he had never even met and that is just a little bit brilliant.

So go forth and do nice things!
– Alice.

She Returns

Friends, it has been too long!

After my last post things were busy at uni, I started writing a blog for my internship and everything I was doing seemed to be based around writing. As sad as it was, the last thing I wanted to do was give myself more writing and thus came a stop to this little blog. Not only this, but I was suffering from a terrible little suffering called ‘writer’s block’. Nothing I wrote sounded good, so it would be deleted and I would bury my head in a pillow for a while, hoping that my brain fuzz would clear away. Well, good news! The fuzz has cleared and she is back.

You see, for the last little while I have been writing posts and recommendations on things to do in Brisbane – cafes, markets etc. but when I tried to write one of these, it just didn’t work. Over last week I came to the conclusion that I had to change my angle. This blog was originally designed to point out all the little things in the world that make life brilliant, and that is not limited to the events and places around Brisbane. So today I’m going back to where it all started. As always, here is a story:

Last week I was away on a camp with a bunch of friends from across Queensland. My friends and I are fun people and naturally, we want to make life fun for the younger campers. There were multiple occasions where I would be talking to younger campers and they would say something like “Alice, you are always on point. How do you do it?” or even “Alice, sometimes I wish I could just be you. I bet you don’t even know my name” (At this point I will clarify that I knew her name and how to spell her name but I pronounced it incorrectly and I felt so bad afterwards) but anyway…

These comments made me just a little bit sad. Compliments are always nice and I will always be grateful when I receive one but these particular compliments came from a place of insecurity and I can’t have that. So today I would like to remind you all that you are just a touch of brilliance. Now I can’t claim the privilege of knowing each and every one of you but I know you should all have a reminder that you are fabulous.

Maybe you aren’t ridiculously happy all the time. Maybe you don’t have a million friends and twice as many on Facebook. Maybe you don’t have that perfect hair that just knows how to do its job. Maybe you don’t get good grades in school. But who even decided those were the traits that define the worth of a person? I would like to argue that these were only made the most ‘attractive traits’ because these are the things that can be manipulated on purpose. Want people to think you’re happy? Take a good selfie. Perfect hair? Straighteners, products and way too much time in the morning. Good grades? Work ridiculously hard. The one thing to remember is: their ‘perfection’ may look effortless, but it’s not. It’s really, really not.

I would like to say that the most brilliant things about you are the things that you can’t alter and manipulate. Things that you might not even know you possess. Things like that glint in your eye that appears when you smile at something no one else noticed. Things like the way you always skip over the second last step because of some reason unknown to everyone else. Things like how you’re the one who listens to someone’s story when everyone else is talking over them. I could be here for hours listing off all of the things that make you fabulous but I think you get the idea. You may not notice these things, but others do. If you can’t read this and appreciate that you are brilliant, think of it this way: if you weren’t around and doing these invisible little things, someone in the world would have one less reason to smile everyday.

Never say that you wish you were someone else, because then there would be no you. Why would the world only want one brilliant person when it could have two?

I hope this makes up for my long absence!
Be happy and know you are brilliant.
– Alice

Just Your Average Eurovision Party

What happens when you have a group of eight best friends who haven’t seen eachother in weeks, and gather them in one house over the Eurovision weekend? A Eurovision party and so many good times.

I know there is probably so much judging going on right now and you are most likely all thinking ‘who on Earth looks at Eurovision and thinks “well, by gum. It’s party time.”‘ But, let me tell you, if you haven’t ever had a Eurovision themed sleepover with a fun group of people, you are missing out. But let me fill you in and see if I can convince you of the worthiness of this event.

Me and my girls are just a little bit different. Our schoolies was spent watching Smallville and playing pingpong. We dress up and have fancy dinner parties just for fun. Most importantly, we wear matching pyjamas to movie sleepovers at my house. We find fun in being ridiculous together and ever since we spent our new years eve watching replays of Eurovision 2014, we have been waiting for the epic moment that our sleepover tradition could be combined with the  fun times and general awkwardness of Eurovision. It finally came. Hilarity ensued.

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First of all, can we just take a moment to appreciate that one of my friends owns a snuggie… ummm…. legend. But anyway, on with the story. For the ultimate Eurovision experience we buried ourselves, matching pyjamas and all, in a nest of mattresses, blankets, beanbags and pillows and planned our pizza dinner. After pondering for a good long while over the appropriate number of pizzas to buy, we finally settled on four. Half a pizza each is enough, right? No. Wrong. So wrong. Luckily we were saved from this grave mistake, by a lovely lady who was more experienced, than us, in the ways of bulk pizza purchases. Thanks Sam!

So we ate almost all of the pizza and we laughed our way through the wonderful Israeli boyband and drooled at the Swedish perfection. But after all that, we were still hungry. In typical Australian fashion, it was time for a maccas run… wearing pjs…

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Six pizzas, maccas, a nest of pillows, a beautiful Swedish Eurovision man, matching pyjamas, a snuggie, and some brilliant people. What’s not to love!

What was so great about this night wasn’t the Eurovision, or the pizza, or the maccas. It was the general frivolity and fun that happens when you’re with friends. It was the fact that our stomachs hurt, not just from food overload, but from laughing so much as well. Life can be crazy. Life can be difficult. Life can be exhausting. But take a deep breath because the fun times are still there – you just have to look for them. They’re in the form of fun people and spontaneous adventures.

So how shall I conclude all of this. Life is brilliant. There are always opportunities for fun times so don’t pass them up if they seem too ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with just a little bit of frivolity. Also… daaaaaang Sweden… so much perfection I can’t even.

Stay fun, be happy and invest in a snuggie

-Alice

The Subway Man

Today I am not going to show you pictures of things I have recently seen and talk about my life and general musings. I am just going to tell you a story.

To give you some context, this is the short story I wrote for the Grade 12 QCS test last year, under the theme ‘who cares’. I finished it an hour early so decided to rewrite the entire story on some scrap paper so I could remember what I wrote. I stumbled across it tonight and I thought it would be kind of cute to put on my blog. Enjoy 🙂

The Subway Man

In a dusty, secluded corner of the London underground lies a heap of old battered quilts. The air is foul with the stench of decay and the flickering lights above emit sinister shadows from the dark. Hiding beneath the pile of quilts is the subway man. He had a real name once but it was forgotten long ago.

The subway man spends his days buried beneath those quilts, shaking a rusty tin and murmuring “Money for the poor? Money for the blind?” but no one has a dime to spare for the subway man. No one cares enough to even spare a glance for that poor, helpless man in the corner. 

Over the years, this man has transformed, gradually reduced to a decrepit heap amongst the dust. With the change in the subway man, so too came a shift in the London underground. Once upon a time the subway was a place of adventure; an intersection of experiences and lives all coming together. Music from energetic buskers would breeze through the tunnels and sweet aromas of pastries and foreign delights blanketed the air. People of all shapes and sizes would bustle through, laughing, joking, and sharing the stories of their adventures. “Money for the poor? Money for the blind?” People would respond to this cry, filling the tin of the subway man and sharing with him all the stories they had heard so he too could appreciate the vast variety of life. But no more. This time of celebration in the underground has ended. Something happened to that community and broke the delicate ecosystem of life.

As civilisation evolved and technology developed, lives became busier. The clothes of travellers transformed from arrays of bright colours and fabulous frocks to a mask of black and white. The air became stale with cigarette smoke and a shadow darkened the souls of those in the London underground. Their eyes became glazed over with a permanent look of disgust and despair. “Money for the poor? Money for the blind?” The same cry can be heard from the subway man, but with something else. No more do people respond to his pleas. no more do people show interest in his life and his experiences, yet he is the man in the underground with the most beautiful stories to tell. Along with the end of this time of adventure came a change in his plea. The simple murmur of “Money for the poor? Money for the blind?” transformed into a cry desperate for a response. “Money for the poor! Money for the blind!” Yet people are deaf to his pleas.

The truth is, that time of adventure is over. No one cares about the subway man. No one has any interest for the man amongst the quilts with the most stories to tell. No one will ever understand the life of the subway man. 

No one cares.

And that, friends, is the wildly depressing story of the subway man.
On that sad note,
Have a happy day and be sure to buy a sandwich for your local subway man.
-Alice