Fiddler (who is not) On The Roof

An interesting fact about me is that I fiddle. Not quite compulsively but definitely more than occasionally. It tends to be for the sole purpose of thinking, grasping something from a new angle, "splitting the story wide open!" So to speak.
I have some different fiddles which I will discuss briefly below.

The Chair
I have a rather impressive faux-leather wheelie office chair in my room, I like to think it encourages me to succeed and work harder because if I work really hard I might get one of these in an office somewhere. However it has become something with which to fiddle. Often when in the middle of typed or telephoned conversation when searching for a comical word or phrase, or the key word of wisdom to offer in times of crisis; I will swing back and forth in my chair. Both in a twisting and rocking motion. The brief and gentle movements of air in my face seem to encourage me to think of words. This has been abandoned of late as i kept falling out of the chair, which hurts because it has arms.

Wire
Being a boy i have many different types of wire and cable hanging around the desk, headphone leads, charging leads, guitar cables, stuff that needs soldering, you know boy stuff. This makes for great fun when waiting for things to finish happening because I want to do something after the event I'm waiting for. Coiling, wrapping, making fun knots, writing words, all fun "get on with it" past-times.

Knife
A new fiddle object is my swiss army knife, whenever totally engrossed in something engaging I notice nothing obviously because I am totally engrossed. Once a lul in proceedings appears, I look down and i have been cutting up train tickets, receipts, cans, anything. As satisfying as I must say this is, my desk looks like a giant part-popper has vomitted all over it.

So beware because, you know what they say.....

Question

Goodness it has been a long time since I last typed some thoughts down. It must be said that the previous occasions ramblings were a little on the pitiful side, it appears I am only a barrel of laughs some of the time.
Have you ever considered how utterly disappointing a barrel of laughs would actually be? I mean why would that even seem like a good idea. I imagine a horrendous mix of canned laughter every time the lid lifted. In conclusion to this micro-comment I pose a question, why do we/I only appreciate the laughter of the people I love. This, it is worth mentioning, is a lot of people as I love love, you dig?
This raises a curious point of which I have been vociferously fuming about recently, however I just typed vociferously correctly first time and realised how much I adore this word (mental note use the word vociferously).
Questions; we all have them, we all answer them but why do some people not understand them? I was always under the impression that a question was asked to discover an answer. In my opinion; the world would be a better place if people asked questions to discover an answer THEY DID NOT KNOW. I feel that too often, questions are asked to force someone to repeat a mistake or admit lack of knowledge or relive an unpleasant memory or . . . Basically bad things.

I have realised that the word quest is in question. When have you ever known anyone to go on a quest to find something you already had found before? If you did you wouldn't be a member of a quest, you would be a member of a tourist party.
Think on that.
Yeah, how 'bout that.
ARGH

(Not sure what caused that)