the FRED BLOGGS blog
...sharing a random thought daily since 2007!
Analytics is like trying to read the fine print on a menu in a dimly lit restaurant—it's confusing, overwhelming, and somehow makes me question all my life choices.
Readiness is not merely a state of being prepared; it is a relentless commitment to challenge the systems of oppression that seek to stifle our collective liberation.
Sculpture, in its raw form, speaks to the soul of humanity, capturing the struggles and triumphs of our shared existence in a tangible embrace.
Communication, much like a well-crafted investment strategy, requires both precision and the ability to read between the lines to truly understand the nuances at play.
Close is a peculiar concept, akin to trying to catch a particularly slippery fish with your bare hands while standing on a wobbly chair. It often feels like the universe is playing an elaborate game of hide-and-seek, with the prize being a fleeting moment of clarity that vanishes just as you think you've grasped it. In the grand scheme of things, being close is merely an illusion, much like the idea that one can ever truly understand the meaning of life before the tea is served.
First day as a hearse driver didn't go well. The formal decorum of arriving at the cemetery was spoiled by the sat nav shouting "You have reached your final destination".
In the tumult of my reign, the ceaseless churn of loyalty and dissent among my subjects weighs heavily upon my royal heart, for each shifting tide threatens the very foundation of my dominion.
Imagine a lady wondering if she should leave her husband's family and tossing a coin - only to see his grandmother's face staring back at her.....
The warmth of my hearth provides a sanctuary from the chill of the world outside, a place where thoughts can flourish in the quietude of solitude. Within these walls, I find the clarity to ponder the affairs of our nation and the responsibilities that weigh upon us all.
The episode unfolded like a delicate dance, each moment weaving together the complexities of life and emotion, leaving me both breathless and contemplative.
The scent of exhaust wafts through the air like a bittersweet melody, reminding me of the bustling streets where life dances in vibrant chaos. Each rev of an engine adds a note to this urban symphony, where the rhythm of the city pulses alongside the fumes that linger in my lungs.
Turns out "Mangetout" isn't pronounced "Man get out". That caused some confusion in Sainsburys earlier.
Which letter is silent in the word "scent", the S or the C ?
The tension hung in the air like a thick fog, and I knew that in a standoff, every second counted, and hesitation could mean the difference between life and death.
Nails, like the finest notes in a symphony, hold the delicate structure of our creations, binding each element with a steadfast grace.
Concept dances in my mind like a symphony waiting to be composed, each note a whisper of possibility that ignites the imagination.
Mascara is a little tube of hope, promising to transform tired eyes into windows of wonder, yet I often find myself questioning whether the real magic lies in the application or the inevitable smudging that follows. Each morning, I paint my lashes with the fervor of a desperate artist, convinced that today will be the day I defy gravity and time, only to end up with a raccoon-like visage by noon. In the grand theater of existence, it seems absurd that a mere cosmetic could hold such power over my mood, but here I am, a tragicomic character in a play where the plot hinges on the perfect flutter of my lashes.
Draped over the back of the chair, the cardigan seemed to whisper secrets of its previous owner, an enigmatic presence that lingered like the faint scent of lavender in the air.
Savannah has a charm that wraps around you like a warm blanket, making you feel both at home and slightly disoriented. Wandering its cobblestone streets, I often find myself laughing at how the city’s beauty can distract me from my own terrible sense of direction.
Amidst the shadows of the night, the patroller stands vigilant, a silent guardian in a world that often forgets the value of watchfulness and duty.
Just a quick plug for my new proof reading service, which comes with a monkey black guarantee.
Temples feel like a sacred escape where I can find peace and connect with something greater than myself.
I've just been advised that Poundland in Slough does not have it's own specific car park. #distressing
Seep, like the slow drip of a leaky faucet, oozes into every crevice of my mind, saturating my thoughts with a dampness that clings like a forgotten memory.
Shin embodies a captivating blend of strength and vulnerability that resonates deeply within me.
With every sunrise, I feel the warmth of dreams turning into gold, a melody of hope playing softly in my heart.
Wood whispers secrets of the universe, each grain a story waiting to be unearthed in the stillness of the night.
The rivulet flows like the pulse of the earth, a reminder that even the smallest streams can carve their own path. Watching it dance over stones, I feel the raw energy of nature, relentless and free, inspiring me to embrace my own journey.
Embracing the ideals of socialism feels like a melodic harmony, where the symphony of community spirit resonates louder than the solo notes of individual ambition.
Shackles often feel like an invisible weight, binding me to expectations that aren’t truly mine. Breaking free from those constraints has become my quiet rebellion, a journey toward authenticity that feels both exhilarating and terrifying.
When I go early at 7.15am, there's a woman stands at the door of Sainsburys, loudly and cheerily greeting customers on arrival, checking they have a mask on. I saw her doing her own shopping earlier. In Tescos. What a traitor.
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