Today...

2011-01-02T02:07:00.003Z

If I have learned one thing today, it is that I will never be a painter and decorator. To be fair, I knew that anyway. I can just about tell one end of a paintbrush from another and my colour perception, I am reliably informed, is rubbish and my brush strokes are about as artistically laudable as a mal-coordinated 4 year old's.

Despite this, I braved the cold weather and headed to my beloved radio station to attempt to paint tables. Yep: paint tables. After 12 years of abuse, our desks look as if we've just rescued them from a skip. Which, knowing our budget, we probably did, which could account for their notorious tipping action. My efforts were foiled as our tins of paint froze. Actually froze. This baffles me as our studio is generally about 50 degrees centigrade above the temperature of the earth's core. In my increasingly desperate attempts to get into the tin of black paint - I distinctly remember stamping on a well placed screwdriver at one point - I have managed to get large amounts of black paint all over my jeans, my hands and under my fingernails. It looks as if I've been having a mud fight with an unknown assailant.

In addition to failing to paint tables, I have also failed to tidy my health hazard of a room, do any university work whatsoever or turn on my phone - it's been blissfully turned off since Boxing Day. Small goals of the day, but failed ones nonetheless.

Still, have managed to order food from tescos so not an entirely wasted day. Admittedly it has produced the overwhelming worry of what the fit delivery man will think when he sees my nails - it genuinely does look like I've been wading through shit. I also won't be able to take a shower, on account of the fact that the shower's broken. On the bright side though, this time last year, I was homeless as my last house flooded rendering it unliveable. Yes, last year's New Year contained a unsurmountable level of shit.

This year started of much better. Rather than galavanting around the rougher areas of London drunk on high hopes, dreams and a rather spectacular amount of tequila, I was having a wonderfully relaxing bath. Coughing rather a lot and with the lights off so as not to aggravate my week-long migraine but it was alright - I had bubbles and Charlie Brooker's latest book and didn't wake up with the overwhelming urge to throw up and missing an iPhone.

Today has been filled with people bemoaning their headaches (pish, try living with mine), nausea and general sleeplessness. I, on the other hand, packed up my worldly goods and left my parents' house and moved back into my own and, despite my dump of a bedroom, mess of a kitchen and water-eschewing appliances it's good to be back. I may lack food (solved tomorrow) and paint, but I also don't have to deal with the arseache of a phone, facebook, twitter (I've turned off all three) or an earth-shattering hangover.

2010 ended fairly well for me. Comparatively. After over a week of being too sick to focus, I was well enough to turn on a computer screen and actually post a blog. After 6 days of being effectively bedridden, I could have cried with delight. If I was the crying type. Which of course I'm not. Unless it's a particularly sad episode of Doctor Who.

2011 will revert to type.

I seem to have a traditional pattern for how years go: In the first part I tend to become ill-of-a-hospital-necessitating-kind (check), somebody dies (rather depressingly, "check") and I have an object of unrequited affection (eh...). In the second part I tend to get slaughtered to drown out the depressing nature of my degree and sleep with someone inappropriate to drown out the depressing nature of what will have become unrequited love - last year's jaunt was, quite frankly, spectacular. The third part leaves me questioning my own ability to actually do a degree and, rather than spurring me on to work harder, I stop working at all so I have an excuse when my end results are bad - which, given that I have ceased working and refuse to revise, is inevitable. The fourth part leaves me considering homicide as I'm forced to live in close proximity with siblings for more than 14 uninterrupted days and depression as I look back on how shit the year has been so far and recovery after fucking up what was, and always was going to be, a dysfunctional and limited friendship. The fifth part is the time for "things can only get better" and I am cheerful as a result. The sixth, and final part, is the slow decent into starting the cycle all over again - the beginnings of what looks like meeting a half decent bloke and 20 hours sleep a week as I attempt to make something of my life.

This year - and bear in mind we're only three and a half hours into day two - is following the pattern. It's not possible to find this depressing. Not today. You see, I'm at home, I'm on my own and two minutes down the road is the university I worked my arse off to get to. Life...is shit. But not always, and not today. So, to all those broadcasting their post-New Year's depression to
web-at-large - fuck the lot of you.

I'm £800 in the black, Youtube has an seemingly-endless supply of Have I Got News For You and I've got a copy of Charlie Brooker's book to finish. So I'll leave youse lot to your "2011-will-be-as-shit-if-not-shitter-than-2010" musings - I've got a Gin and No Tonic and my duvet waiting and 2011 can go to hell. Tomorrow is more than enough. Even if the Tescos guy does assume I've been digging my own grave without a shovel.

It returns.

2011-01-01T01:11:00.003Z

I stopped blogging. The world has a enough bile in it without the likes of me adding to it.

Or so I thought.

Whilst I was in an 18 month tailspin that effectively ended my reading of a daily newspaper it appears that Nick Clegg has gone from being the Jesus of Parliament to equitable to getting dog shit on the sole of your new Manolo Blahniks, BP created a disaster zone in the Gulf Of Mexico and, most importantly, Charlie Brooker resigned his Screenwipe column into the hands of critic Grace Dent and married a Blue Peter presenter.

It occurs to me that (if you ignore Grace) this means there is a gap in the market. It is my duty to fill this gap. By "duty" I mean "current whim" and by gap I mean... well, sod all to be honest. I was using the quasi-retirement of my favourite columnist - who is as cynical as I am but whose column focused on pretty much nothing that I'm going to write about - as an opening paragraph. Eh, sorry. There may not be a gap, but God help me, I'm going to shoe-horn myself in anyway.

Topics for discussion will undoubtedly include the sorry state of world politics, the arguably sorrier state of what's on the box and, at some point, wine-influenced ramblings about unrequited love and other such depressing matters.

Don't like it, don't read it. Blogs are self indulgent piles of opinions from people whom you either like or loathe which, in the grand scheme of things, mean nothing at all. Mine will be no different. Though it may provide a source of procrastination - for me and for you. And quite frankly even if it's just the former this blog will have served its purpose.

On blogging

2010-03-13T22:20:00.002Z

I don't know what blogging is for me. I certainly don't view it like a diary. I don't blog about news, technology or sport. In fact, I don't blog about anything in particular. I'm rather self-indulgent, if anything.

I don't blog when I'm happy, and I don;t blog when I'm overly upset.

Like today. I'm not suicidally unhappy (I'm not being glib, I've been there) and I'm not delighted.

I guess I should be. Delighted, that is. I'm running in an election. I'm uncontested. I am guaranteed the job I want, pretty much. I wrote my manifesto for this position in October. But tonight, life is a little bit not okay. There's no reason. None at all, I'm just sitting in my default.

I don't blog when I've fallen for someone, I don't blog when I have a crush. I don't blog when my heart gets broken.

Some people like this feeling-sick-to-my-stomach-because-I'm-possibly-developing-a-crush thing. I am NOT one of them. The way I feel today, I do not like.

I do not blog when I have a purpose.

I have no purpose today, so I shall leave it here.

2010-02-05T21:33:00.002Z

There's so much I want to say, but I can't express myself.

I'm doing it. I don't think anything beats this feeling.

When life is complicated

2009-11-09T01:19:00.002Z

Life is messy, and it doesn't run smoothly.

Recently, I got a job. I've wanted it since February, and it's been available since then, I've just been looking for approval for going for it. I didn't get it, then I didn't get it and I didn't get it, and eventually I said "screw this" and went for it. I have it, and I love it. It will take over my life and it may ruin carefully cultivated friendships that I cherish. I already have to say "I can't, I'm busy," and this job has just taken every hour of spare time I had left. I do not care.

When you want something badly enough, you sacrifice some of the other things in your life to get it. You never know if it's worth it, and if it's not, you don't find out until it's far, far too late. My parents are dead set against it, but I have the support of most of my friends. The rest of my friends respect me enough to give me what they can before they have to tell my I'm wrong. I'm grateful, but worried. I know I only have so long until they can no longer stay quiet. I have decided to worry about that then.

What I get to worry about now is if I was right. Two days ago I wanted to hit this blog and start writing about the benefits of seizing the moment, going for what you want. I still believe that. One of my hate-to-love songs keeps showing up in my shuffle, persuading me to write that blog. My belief (or more accurately, non-belief) that things don't happen for a reason is being shaken. We can find meaning in everything, that doesn't mean that is one. Recently, though, things seem to be happening for a reason. Events from February seem to be explaining themselves, but even day to day things are working out. If I'm late, I arrive to find lectures cancelled, I'm early, I miss downpours of rain and I have 10 minutes extra to fix the computer that breaks inexplicably before my lecture. It's currently baffling to me. I went for this job, I've changed other areas of my life and I don't know if if I was right to do it. Cue panic.

Old friends are coming back. I'm not sure whether they are back to haunt me yet. I'm only just happily single, after months and months of guy, then depressingly no guy, then another guy and so on and so forth and an underlying theme of crushes who remind me of people I have known and loved and (for whatever reason) are no longer around. The friends I have now are friends who I can see myself calling up in ten years time to tell them about the new guy in my life, the new house, the new job, hell, even a baby, and I don't want to screw with that. Yet within a week, I have a new guy and, simultaneously, two old guys and three old friends all knocking on my door, and I don't know what to do. I'm seeing them all, but I'll be damned if I know what's going to happen afterwards. I can't walk out of these meetings wishing or wanting what I had this time last year, because it's why last year went so badly in the first place. Don't get me wrong, I want to see all these people, I want to see the friends whom I miss, whom I'm sure I will enjoy seeing, only to miss them when they are no longer sitting in front of me.

My degree is going well, I submitted all my essays on time, for the first time in a two semesters I have 100% attendance. I don't spend my time in the clubs, in the bars, in the rooms of my friends, with people whom encourage me to do stupid, irresponsible things. I will pass my degree, because I have to. It's what it's what I'm here for. I will not abandon my family, I will not leave my friends to walk away with nothing. And finally, for the first time it 10 months, I feel like this is not for nothing.

New job, old friends, good degree. Life is good.

I'm just spending my free moments - and they are few - wondering when the bottom is going to fall out of this. There are very, very few instances where I get more than a few days or relative peace and calm and a sweet life. I'm 5 hours in, and I know this can't last long. I think the message I will learn in a few days is "enjoy it while it lasts, because it can't last forever."

So go out, enjoy what you've got. Delight in your friends, enjoy the parts of your job that you can, and spend your free time the way that makes you happy, not in the way that you think you should. And when love comes along, ignore it, because your life will only get more complicated.

In all seriousness, life is messy, even when things are running smoothly. We need to enjoy what we have when we have it, because it will not last forever, but if we're lucky it'll last just long enough to make the crap worth it.

Hell is.

2009-09-06T18:23:00.002+01:00

Hell is watching Bill O'Reilly and not finding yourself getting furious at a man expelling a doctrine two weeks ago you would have found repugnant.

It's writing the sentence "Hell is watching Bill O'Reilly," and not leaving the sentence that way, despite the fact it's funnier, punchier and probably more accurate.

It's not leaving your room for two days, not caring that the number of unread emails in your inbox has reached 120.

It's not wanting to watch your favourite TV show.

It's not reading anything, because it's too much effort to turn the pages.

It's not watching the news, not scanning the BBC website, not buying the Guardian and not caring when you've no idea about the news story your mum's asked you about.

It's watching the iPod's battery fade to nothing, and not plugging it in because you can't be bothered.

It's having your computer crash, and wanting to throw it out the window rather than figure out what the problem is.

It's not being able to stop crying for hours at a time, and not knowing why.

It's putting on a fuck ton of weight and not giving a shit.

It's not giving a shit if you forget to breathe.

It's not being suicidal this time, but knowing that's where it's heading.

Hell is going to bed, hoping that when you wake up in the morning you are going to feel different, but knowing that you won't.

This makes no coherent sense.

2009-08-31T02:22:00.003+01:00

I don't know why things happen, I don't know how. I just know that things happen. I also know that 2000+ years ago, Orpheus and Eurydice tried to do what everybody wants to do, and failed. Arguably we make our own destinies though decision and action, arguably they are created for us when we are born and the human contact moulds our not-yet-fully-formed brains. Arguably they are predetermined by God. Logically, therefore, no matter what you believe, you must believe you cannot change what you yourself have created. Logically, if every decision (supra-natural or not) impacts on your future, everything you do is altering what will happen. And nobody can go back and change a decision they have made. Logically, I know I cannot go back. Logically, I know you don't get second chances to change what has already occurred. Nobody is perfect. Therefore everyone will make bad decisions. Every decision, every action, results in another decision and another action. Logically, our bad decisions will impact somebody else in some way at some time. In equal logic, that's not just bad decisions. That's every decision. Cheating on someone is a bad decision. Getting in a car drunk is a bad decision. Skipping an exam is a bad decision. Most decisions we make, we will not know if they are bad or good until long after we made them, if at all. Choosing a college, telling somebody something, applying for a job, going to the doctor, making a phone call, not making a phone call, saying yes, saying no. We do not to get to do it all again if turning left was the wrong decision. By the same logic, we do not get to go back and stop someone else turning left. Saying yes. Saying no. I know this. Technically, logically, actually. Technically, it's happened. Logically, I know I cannot change it, will never be able to change it, so should stop thinking about it. Actually, that's not how it is. What's scarier, is not knowing whether, if all were said and done, I would change your decision. Because things couldn't be worse if you'd said yes. Could they?

Possibly...

2009-08-26T22:37:00.001+01:00

...the most accurate thing I have ever seen:

http://www.xkcd.com/627/

2009-08-26T22:35:00.002+01:00

If there is one thing in life I am sure of, it is this: you should not find out vital information about things which affect you from age nought at 19. I'm sensing a pattern, and I don't like it.

Words of the day.

2009-08-25T22:47:00.002+01:00

Worms. Woodwork. LANDLORDS.

Oh, and I accidentally deleted the blog. Oops. But I'm back now.

2009-08-21T22:40:00.002+01:00

I dislike hormones. Yes, they do many necessary and wonderful things, but I also blame them for the reminiscent, depressed mood I happen to be in currently. I actually cried, goddammit.

And there ends my argument for why hormones are ridiculous.

So, I'm way behind, but...

2009-08-11T20:36:00.004+01:00

I feel bad for Kim Lyons. I'm currently watching Season 4 of the US' The Biggest Loser. Aside from the product placement - which is frikking hilarious - there is very little else to smile about. The show is addictive, fun, inspirational and I'm sure has saved lives - more than Big Brother anyway - but the emphasis on conflict this series is making it a slight trial to watch. For those who haven't experienced the brilliance that is the show, I shall outline:

A group of overweight people try to lose weight. The person who loses the most at the end wins.

And that is pretty much it. NBC, however, are very clever, and have realised that people like conflict, drama, and... well, conflict and drama. So, the group of overweight people gets split into 2 teams, moved to a location in California, where they don't get to speak to their families, and each team is given a personal trainer. At the end of every week they "weigh in" on a set of scales one of the contestants claimed were so big you could "see them from space." All of the weight lost is added up, and the team who's lost the most amount of weight "wins." The team that loses have to vote out one person from that team. The logical mind would say that it's a team game, you vote out the person who helps the team total the least. Am I right? Yes? Good. To stop this from happening - there would be no point in showing a highly charged, emotional elimination because the outcome would be obvious - at the end of the series (or "season" if you're American) the person who remains in the game (ie, hasn't been voted out) and loses the most weight wins more than $200,000. They also all live in the same house, eat together, train together, socialise with each other, so it becomes a little less about the numbers and more about personality.

This scenario worked for a couple of years, the format was sold and now airs in more than 20 different countries and has made stars of the personal trainers who coach the teams, most obviously the original US trainers, Jillian Michaels and Bob Harper. The fairytale came to a slightly rough ending when Jillian left after 2 years because the show had become more about the game and less about the health of those involved. Good for her. She was duly replaced and Kim Lyons became the new head of the Red Team. I did not think I would like Kim Lyons when she showed up in Season 3, which I watched last week, but I do. I think she is a nice person, a good trainer and someone I would very much like to have a chat with. So, all well and good. After 1 season of this harmonious set up, Jillian returned. And this is where I begin to feel sorry for Kim Lyons. In a surprise reveal to the Red Team (Kim's team) and the Blue Team (Bob's team) Jillian returned two weeks into the series, debuting her Black team, to the obvious delight of Bob and the seeming frustration of everyone else. The Black Team creamed the other teams for several weeks and cracks begin to appear.

The teams all get flown to Jamaica, with no gym and the temptations of the outside world. This is the point at which things start to go bad for Kim and I feel awful for her. In this series, she can't catch a break and my girl crush, Jillian Michaels, doesn't seem to like her. Both in front of her, and in the interview sections of the show, Jillian has totally undermined her, first criticising her for not forbidding her team to drink whilst in Jamaica (incidentally, one of them did and posted a massive weight loss, whilst Jillian's team - some of whom she screamed at - didn't drink and lost the similar amounts of weight, if memory serves), then offering to coach one of Kim's team and proceeding to criticise Kim for not pushing said team member (Amy) hard enough. Perhaps it is cosmic justice that Amy proceeded to lose no weight whatsoever in her first week with Jillian.

Amy requested the switch because, after Kim's Red Team lost yet another weigh-in, and Kim said publicly before an elimination that there were stronger players on the team than Amy. This is true. Amy doesn't like this. Fine. Amy does something nasty, mean and unnecessary. As I mentioned above, she switches teams and publicly calls out Kim for being a bitch. Very uncool.

I have not finished the series, nor have I even finished the episode with the drama about the team switch up (I'm watching as I type) but I already know that Kim does not get any of her team into the finals. Whether or not it's because Bob and Jillian trained their teams better, or if they had better team members, who knows. I'm not qualified to comment, and wouldn't want to speculate. Maybe because I haven't finished the series, I should keep my mouth shut (or my fingers still).

However, Amy is a contestant who clashed with someone who was forcing her to beat the crap out of her own body day after day. Something was going to snap. No, it is Jillian's reaction to Kim that has pissed me off. The "battle" between the two women was picked up on by The Catfight Report (google it, it seems rather sexist so I won't be linking to it) and Jillian was deemed the "winner" of the Catfight. Whatever that means. Feelings get hurt and I can't see that it helped anyone, so I guessing "winning" is relative.

I think contestant Amy's over-reaction was exactly that - an over-reaction - and I think that Jillian asking Amy if she wanted to switch teams in front of all of the contestants, fellow trainer Bob and Kim herself (not to mention the rest of the world who were watching) was unnecessary. Not cool, Jillian, not cool. Yet despite this, if I were to be on the show or in any other way be offered a training session with any of the 8 coaches on the various versions of the show that I watch (US, UK, Aus), I would want Jillian as a trainer, because she's brilliant. She engages with her contestants, helps them, counsels them (as one article put it, until you want to throw up) and her teams clearly worship the ground she walks on. In short, I think she's fab, which is why I think the treatment of Kim Lyons from her is so ridiculous. Ramped up editing seems to be the culprit, zooming in on Jillian looking satisfied when Kim's team aren't doing so well, and placing her comments in her interviews directly after Kim's said something of the complete opposite. Whether on the campus, chatting to the contestants or the other trainers Kim always seems to come off the worst. I'd like to think predominantly this is the editing team providing the drama that NBC wants to market the show, and not anything else.

I find it rather interesting that Kim did not return past the series that I'm currently watching (4) and I'm rather fascinated to see what happens next. This series, for me, will always be overshadowed by my interest in the trainers rather than the contestants, none of whom I have really developed an emotional attachment to. No, Bob Harper is as hot as hell, Jillian Michaels is my girl and Kim Lyons is one very cool lady, with a fitness level I would kill for, and they make for brilliant (if difficult to watch) TV.

Hell, I don't even know what I'm blogging about anymore. I just wanted to put it out there: I feel sorry for Kim Lyons. She got the rough end of the stick we call Reality TV.

*Edit*
I finished the episode. One of the guys purposely gained 17lbs (that bastard) and sent home a very deserving guy. Jillian called him out in the kitchen. YES, THANK YOU.
*Edit 2*
Apparently Amy threw the weigh in and lost 0 on purpose because Neil asked her to. For what it's worth, I'm totally sceptical. I see no benefit to anyone in Amy doing this, apart from Amy herself. This season, and number 6, are wrecking my faith in humanity, watching blatant cheating to get ahead and cheat others out of an amazing opportunity for their own monetary gain.

Big Brother's Indifferent Critic.

2009-06-11T01:31:00.000+01:00

I do not watch Big Brother. I do not particularly like Big Brother. I do, however watch the launch. Every year, a group of people who's images will grace news-stands for the next 5 months (maximum) enter a "house" where their every move will be caught on film and broadcast to a pseudo-celebrity hungry public. I enjoy finding out whether or not the producers have managed to tap into a fresh stream of "talent." I'm always convinced they must run out of fame-hungry fools. I am always wrong.

So I watched the launch show, albeit a week late. And, because you didn't ask, my views on the housemates:

Freddie, you were very brave to take that hat off halfway through the night. You had awful hat hair. You were braver to actually wear the hat. It made you look like a twat.

Kris: "I'm better looking than I am clever." I would agree. Bear in mind, you ain't no picture.

Sophie: "What's the capital of Uruguay?" "U." Bless you, dear. Repeating a joke that is centuries old. And not joking. I'm sure you shall achieve your aim and be on the cover of FHM.

Davina had the best line of the night, about Noirin: "She kissed Russell Brand whilst dressed as a bunny. Join the club!"

Karly "dropped out of university after three weeks because it was full of weird people. Who wanted to learn things."What, pray tell, were you expecting?

Charlie, I'm going to like you. Your "least favourite word is Chillax." I announced this about myself on Insanity several months ago. You announced this to a significantly larger audience of over 8 million. Respec'.

"How sexy am I?" Siavash. I hate to break it to you. You look like you've been hit by a bus and shoved into a designer jacket.

Sree. You don't have friends, because they are sick of your arrogance. I sincerely doubt you have a fan club.

Sophia, you make a valid point. "Why would you want to be anything that doesn't require any braincells." This point is cancelled out by the fact you are appearing on Big Brother and the ridiculous amount of irritating screaming you did whilst entering.

Angel, my love. No. Just no. Entry to the house should not take 5 minutes. The booing you heard was because you were acting like an idiot.

Freddie. (again) I love the fact you kept saying "I'm from the countryside" because you assumed the housemates wouldn't know where Stoke is. It made me smile.

True to form, my favourite (Beinazir ) has already been evicted. Shame. She seemed wicked.

Republics, Kings and People: Dos and Don'ts

2009-05-19T18:45:00.004+01:00

The person behind me, your tapping on the desk was highly distracting. Thank you.

If your first instinct is to add a significant amount of vodka to the drink you're taking in, do it. It means it's going to go badly, and you'll need the alcohol.

Check your desk number. The idiot sitting in my desk when I showed up: you made me lose 5 minutes because you'd written on my papers so they had to get me new ones. If we ever meet again, you're screwed.

Check where your exam is. If you happen to go to the wrong place, then have to go to Bedford to check Campus Connect and then have to sprint to the Sports Hall, you will be out of breath before you start.

Always plan a witty(?) Tweet to type before you have to forsake your phone. It will make sure that you leave a couple of minutes early so you have time to post it, and will be indescribably helpful if the above happens to you.

If you start mentally blogging in the exam, you know that you've taken procrastination to a level that should not ever be achieved.

If you forget said blog, it because of relief, not because you're an idiot. :S

If the guy who takes your desk, makes you lose five minutes then stops writing 55 minutes into the exam and leaves at 3:00 when the exam is two hours and only started at 2, you are completely justified in wanting to punch him in the face.

Sandra Rowlands: your doodles on the desk were the highlight of that exam.

From the same desk, I learnt that someone who really loves Suzuki Crossbike also can't spell/didn't have time to spell "mystery".

Once again, the desk was highly illuminating when it comes to an unnamed individual's love of France.

And finally:

Don't take Republics, Kings and People.

Talking about death...

2009-04-23T07:30:00.005+01:00

There has been much talk of death in my house recently, and it's all rather depressing. "We're not immortal, you know!" Busy, mum, I'm watching Jeremy Clarkson slag off production cars that work perfectly well, whilst in his next breath praising Alfa Romeos, notorious for breaking down, on a channel amusingly named "Dave ja vu." "Do you think there's life after death?" Please, someone pour me a drink. And incidentally, I've been a staunch atheist since I was seven, so that's a no. If your next question is "will you be voting Tory in the next election?" I'm either going to be very offended or start questioning just how much attention to my formative years you were paying.

"Did you ever worry about what would happen if we weren't around any more?" Uh, no. I was too busy worrying about the DG gagging the world's biggest news organisation from discussing the personal of Peter Mandelson because he was, um, "a friend."

It's all very macabre.

And rather worrying. Should I have written a will? Should I be making plans for a funeral? This worries me. So in order to put my mind at rest:

Cremate me. I do rather like Keith Richards' idea of snorting ashes, but I'm not that fussed. I would mind being smoked. Or if that doesn't take your fancy, scattered by the lake and the Roman Ruins.
When you cremate me, do it on a funeral pyre a la the Master in Doctor Who. It's technically illegal, but it's not going to be me that gets arrested, so have at it.
On the pyre, I want my duvet. If I don't get it, I shall suspend my disbelief in life after death and come and haunt you. And I want to be wearing my oldest, rattiest (and most favourite) jeans and my Cubs jumper.
There shall be no ceremony, because they're pointless. And about your grief rather than my life, so don't do that.
But have a Wake. Tequila shots for all.
I want a plaque. Soothe my ego. Put it by Holloway's pond. If you could do it at night please, then one of you accidentally fall in because the lighting is non-existent so you won't see the edge.
My George Bush poster goes to Dean and any leftover alcohol can be split between Laura, Vinous and Anna.

Right, well, with my mind soothed and put at ease, I can now walk into roads without looking both ways. Excellent.

Dear Tessa Watt...

2009-04-18T03:15:00.002+01:00

Tessa Watt - one of the newest group of idiots forcing hippy-minded lunacy on the city of London.

Watt is one of three "masterminds" of Slow Down London, a ten day "festival" that will hit the city on the 24th of April. Londoners, beware, these fools are out to ruin your day. And, yes, those quote marks are entirely appropriate.

Apparently these ninnies think we in London - I live within the M25, don't question me! - walk too quickly and we are too rushed. Uh, no. We're just we're busy. To combat this, Watt et all have organised a series of events to make us appreciate life more: a seminar on how the texts and emails have erased the art of letter writing, yoga lessons and workshops and Charles Dutoit will conduct music by Prokofiev

Don't get me wrong, that's all fine. The Independent on Sunday's Gardening columnist doing a day of activities? Wonderful.

A group of morons holding a "go-slow" across Waterloo Bridge at rush hour on a Monday morning? Fuck you. One of the busiest pedestrian commuter points in the city and these... these... imbeciles think it'll be a good idea to stroll across in a journey that will take an hour. As a user of that bridge, let me tell you you can walk it in minutes. Forget walking across, anyone who participates in this idiocy deserves to be thrown off.

Not only this, but organisers will be handing out pretend speeding tickets to anyone they view as walking too quickly. Excuse me? Have you walked on the streets around Westminster/Green Park? Tourists walking so bloody slowly a sloth has a higher mile per month total. Forget speeding tickets, London needs to start handing out fines to people who randomly stop in the middle of a pavement, or who aren't paying attention when the little green man appears and so linger on the pavement, forcing us to step around them, the crowd parting like the Red Sea.

Luckily, this part of the exercise will only last one day. Oh, they've got it organised for all ten, but all the volunteers will be in hospital within hours.

Tessa Watt is attempting to justify her insanity by saying "There’s a sense in a city like London that we do tend to run around like mad rabbits in a hutch. We get angry with someone ambling slowly on the pavement, and we want to throttle someone if they haven’t got their Oyster card out at the gate of the Tube. Things are a little bit out of hand.”

Miss Watt (and I am assuming you're a "Miss" here), have you ever been in a crowded Tube station? I was in Victoria at 5:30 on a Wednesday afternoon where they actually had to close the gates because the platforms were so packed. 200+ of us, all waiting to get through 7 gates to escalators that doubtlessly wouldn't work. I swear to God, anyone in that crowd who didn't have their Oyster card out ready to get through those gates - therefore holding everyone up - should be shipped to Australia and dropped in a vat of acid. And then shot. Twice.

There is a Cittaslow programme: towns can sign up and make crap like this their city policy. Ludlow, Diss, Aylsham, Mold, Perth, Linlithgow, Berwick-upon-Tween and Cockermouth have all signed up. So, Tessa, take your teams of cretins and travel to Shropshire, Norfolk, Wales, Northern England and Scotland and provide this service to people who are less likely to use your speeding tickets to inflict a deadly number of papercuts on you.

A warning to any of the volunteers working the slowdownlondon.co.uk event: I'm going to be back and forth in London every two to three days for the next few weeks. If you try to flyer me, I'll slap you, you try to slow me down and I'll punch you, and if you try to give me a speeding ticket you better damn well pray that Mr Johnson's traffic jams are moving faster than the pavements, otherwise the ambulance will never reach you in time.

Fairies, Princesses and Grant Mitchell

2009-04-12T06:57:00.002+01:00

I was asked once why I didn't like soaps. It was a Tuesday, RE, Year Nine. A teacher who really didn't like me that much, we were talking about nosiness and is that why we like soaps? I was one of shockingly few people who put their hands up when asked who didn't watch any of the big five. I was immediately asked why, and I said - with a half-laugh - "they're so unrealistic!"

I haven't watched soaps for years. I remember sitting down with my Grandmother and watching Sarah Platt being told that she was pregnant on Coronation Street and watching Tiffany being run down by a car outside the Queen Vic with my mum. Thing is, my Nan's dead and I spend the majority of the year not living with my mum, and when I do I'm not at home in time to watch it. Not that I want to. You'll excuse me, but I'd rather watch Martine McCutcheon chained to a bomb underneath a packed hospital whilst Rupert Penry-Jones has a crisis of conscience over leaving her there.

It seems to me that people have started watching soaps younger and younger*. I know five-year-olds who are better versed in the plotlines of Emmerdale than me.

It baffles me. We read our children fairy stories for years and years. Stories of dragons, princesses and seemingly undefeatable monsters slain by heroes riding into the sunset on horseback, escaping from towers with true loves, animals turning into people and vice versa. Hundreds of stories designed to make children feel safe, loved, secure. To give them a happy ending.

And then into the fluffy world of Shaun the Sheep, Cbeebies and Cbbc we thrust EastEnders, Neighbours and Hollyoaks and instead of a saccharine life of happy endings and handsome princes, we give them the Mitchell brothers and Cain Dingle.

And the introduction of the idea that things will never go right. In Soapland marriages invariably fail, relationships will never last, a much-longed for baby will never materialise, but a much dreaded one will, domestic violence, rape and illness will occur simultaneously to the same person and the populations of towns can be halved in seconds. Weddings bring to light the dark secrets of entire families, funerals will never go off without a hitch and everyone has a skeleton in their closet.

It's an oxymoron, but one that runs deeper than syntax. An area of life that runs parallel, a cushioned bubble where everything's perfect and at the same time nothing is.

I remember when I used to feel invincible. There wasn't a notion that things could go wrong, because that wasn't something that had ever crossed my mind. Until you come home one day and the news is playing and you've just turned 11 years old and you watch the deaths of almost 3,000 people live on your TV. And the world just isn't safe. Then the news starts showing footage of bombs and failed peace talks that seem oh-so-much-more dangerous than Kosovo when you were 7, but perhaps it's because you're paying more attention.

I think this is the reason I don't like soaps. Life hurts, day in day out, but I don't need my "entertainment" to ram it home. Life does it well enough.

Give me an action film over a drama any day: Bad Guy hurts Good Guy whilst putting in place his Evil Plan. Moral Outrage takes over Good Guy who hatches a Dangerous Plan to foil Bad Guy's Evil Plan whilst looking devilishly attractive and winning over The Girl. Bad Guy is furious, does something Evil to The Girl. Good Guy attacks, Bad Guy is killed/imprisioned, Good Guy gets The Girl and they all live Happily Ever After.

Because if there's anything soaps have taught me, in their real-life reflecting ways, it's that the Good Guy gets the crap and the Bad Guy will get all the money and hot chicks.

So put me with the toddlers and let me read Rapunzel and Cinderella, where no one dies, the baddies get their comeuppance and the goodies get their rewards for not killing the baddies. Where the issues are no more complex than right and wrong because there are no shades of grey. Where everybody gets saved.

Because for a minute we could all pretend that everyone gets a shot at a happy ending.

*That sentence is essentially the equivalent of "These kids today..." but I'm 18 years old and it's a little to early for me to be saying that.

"Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed." G.K. Chesterton

What you don't read can't hurt you.

2009-04-12T00:58:00.001+01:00

I read the blog of a friend - who I don't think would appreciate it if I published the web address here - who has come up with what I think is a very good point. He suggests that people use their blogs as their own personal therapists. Used to harp on about the writers' lives, their feelings and their views.

My own blog - well, this one, anyway ;o) - is a prime example of this recently.

But I fail to see what else they're supposed to be for. Blogs are supposed to be articles written about what happens in your life, only presenting them in a more interesting way so that they're readable. They're engaging, entertaining, appealing, occasionally upsetting, more often amusing. They make you think, they make you smile, they inspire you to write something as good or better. Well, the good ones do.

The first ever posting I wrote I used to apologise for if I ever descended into self-interested nonsense. I am tempted to delete the post. Though I engaged in a week of what can only be described as irrelevant musings, I no longer see the need to apologise for it. Don't like it, don't read it.

Thoughts of the day

2009-04-03T23:42:00.001+01:00

1) It could, one day, be beneficial to get the flu

2) Don't die in South Carolina

3) Biting your nails can have nasty consequences

4) Cleaning can ruin a relationship

5) Some people see nothing wrong with getting their teenage daughter pregnant with their own sibling

6) Cereal can be good for your sex life

7) Domino's addicts had a good day but didn't tell me

aSleep Revisited

2009-04-03T01:38:00.001+01:00

If you have to start a sentence with the word "iPod" do you capitalise the "i"? Irrelevant, really. Just needed a way to start. aSleep works. Or exhaustion knocked me out. I'm not sure. But at 7:00am, I set up aSleep to soothe me into unconsciousness with "Rain w/Thunder." No, I wasn't setting myself up for the coming of the apocalypse, but it was slightly less annoying than "White Noise" or "Helicopter." I'm not kidding. Apparently the soothing noise of rotors does it for some people. Though I 'spose I can't talk: the sound of "Computer Keyboard" appeases my nerdish tendencies. I was asked my my mother why I didn't just have a Gin and Tonic. Having never tried the hallowed mixture, and almost crying for sleep, that is precisely what I've done. I shall team this with reading back my self-obsessed musings of the last three days and shall hopefully be so bored that I shall drop off. And if I do not cure my own insomnia, I sure hope reading this has cured or prevented yours.

2009-04-02T05:50:00.000+01:00

Four:

The number of notes I have written in the last three days
The number of hours I have until I need to be out and about
The number of days I survived on my empty, closed campus
The number of points that would be perfect to round out this list

Insomnia is a bitch. It leaves you lying there, telling yourself to think about nothing, which in turn leads you to wondering if it's possible to think about nothing, which leads you to conclude that you are not thinking about nothing, which leads you to thinking about the last time you really thought about something, which leads you to think about that something, which leads you to thinking about where you were/who you were with, which you contemplate for several seconds, at which point you realise that you were trying to think about nothing, so you berate yourself for thinking, focus on the word nothing, which leads you to thinking about if it's actually possible to think about nothing, which... well, you get the picture. Probably several "which leads you to" ago.

My point is, I can't sleep. And I haven't been able to sleep for the last 52 hours. I have tried counting back from a hundred, I have tried aSleep (which led to another note) I have tried reading, I have tried watching TV, I have tried thinking about nothing, I have tried running. I have tried counting forwards. I got to 847 and decided I needed to turn over and then realised that I'd broken my count and got so annoyed that I booted up facebook.

What is most annoying is when you're counting, you try and count with one of the beats that is going on around you. I have several:

two clocks
my heartbeat
my breathing
the beat of "Tattooed," the song currently in my head

All these beats are separate, and my brain doesn't know which one to count to, which sparks off another thought process.

I cannot actually describe just how much I want this all to go away. I would like to wake up - "wake up" implying that I've actually managed sleep - and find that it's all just gone away.

I'd also like David Tennant, Wentworth Miller and a private island, but I guess I won't get that either.

"All secrets are deep. All secrets become dark. That's in the nature of secrets," Cory Doctorow.

"Happy families are all alike. Every unhappy family is unhappy in it's own way," Leo Tolstoy

Anne Sexton: "It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was."

"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered." - Tom Stoppard

Start writing, see what happens

2009-04-02T01:48:00.000+01:00

Time to start writing and see what comes out? That's rhetorical. If you've already sighed with irritation or boredom, then just stop reading: I don't want to be responsible for your boredom or the cause of your irritation. Buh-bye. I went to my parents' today. Home. Except they've changed the cutlery, the crockery, sold the dining table (which we never used anyway) got a new car and managed to break every computer in the house. None of this bothers me, but I'm now on hour 48 with no sleep, so it seemed relevant to bring it up. No, what was a headfuck was unlocking my door and finding part of the contents of my grandmother's house in my room. That's fine, I've got the space - most of my stuff is in Egham. What's a bit weird is looking at things and going, "oh, doesn't she need- oh, no. Wait. She's dead. She doesn't need any of it."

aSleep and Asleep

2009-04-01T05:58:00.000+01:00

April Fool's: I wonder what the BBC will do. I wonder what the Guardian will do.

In all honesty, I'd forgotten there was an event called April Fool's until I looked up to the top right of my screen and it informed me of the date.

Insomnia's a bitch, it has you looking at clocks wishing it was later, wishing you could get up and do something, or wishing it was earlier, wishing you could actually sleep.

My iPhone has an app to help me out: aSleep. Don't bother downloading it. Rain is the only sound effect that doesn't hurt your ears. "There are some remedies worse than the disease." -Publilius Syrus. I don't think that Mr Syrus was thinking of iPhone technology, but tough.

"How long has it been since someone touched part of you other than your body?" Laurel Hoodwrit. I guess I'm lucky. It's been a week. And before that, a couple of months. It's about grabbing the people who matter and letting go the ones that don't. Easy to type, harder to do.

"When the pain is great enough, we will let anyone be doctor." Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960. A friend of mine said of this: "the only thing I have to say about this that isn't obvious is that the "anyone" is 100% replaceable with "anything"?" She's right, but ignoring this for a second, those who heal us are not necessarily the people who are best for us, because they knew in the first place that we needed healing. What we do to heal ourselves is often stupid and more painful than the wounds we're licking, but if it works, I don't question it.

"We become aware of the void as we fill it."
-Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943
This is certainly true. I didn't know there were problems until I went about trying to solve them. Thing is about voids is they're fillable, and then it doesn't matter what caused them in the first place. For a while I guess it'll feel like you're trying to fill the Grand Canyon with a few litres of cement, but eventually, you'll have the crack all smoothed over.

"Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light?" ~Maurice Freehill

The child. There's nothing in the dark that will hurt us. There aren't monsters or boogymen and when you wake up screaming there'll be someone to smooth your hair and tell you it was just a nightmare, the same does not apply to the adult. There's plenty of monsters in the light, and no matter how many times you face them, open the door, there's another door behind that one with another monster, and one behind that and one behind that. Unlike the child, you can't fall asleep to get rid of the dark, you have to keep going, kicking ad yelling until the monsters learn that you can take it, so there's no point in pushing you around.

"I doubt one could live in the darkness, but one could probably survive." Nathaniel LeTonnerre. I suspect it's harder than it sounds.

Well, enough of my ramblings, perhaps aSleep has a setting I haven't discovered and maybe the next time I count sheep my imagination won't insist on dyeing them blue.

I can dream.

Oh, no. Wait. That's the damn problem.

Lent.

2009-02-27T02:24:00.002Z

I am indulging in hypocrisy. I am an atheist participating in Lent. Whilst hypocrisy annoys me, I am willing to wallow in it just this once.

I am taking it in lieu of a New Year. I didn't have time to break any resolutions: I was on my campus for precisely 8.5 days before being whisked off to hospital and not getting back to normal until, well, now. Truth be told, I'm still fairly ill, but cannot afford any more downtime.

So, back to the point (I deviate rather a lot...). I am using Lent as my New Year. Just without the drunken counting down to midnight, as I actually managed that at 11:59, December 31st. With fairly interesting results. My year started on Wednesday. Well, that's not entirely accurate either. My year starts Monday, but I did actually give up several things for Lent.

Lent this year is 46 days. A friend of mine informed me of this on facebook and I had a mini-crisis. That's almost a week longer than I thought it was, and given that I'm giving up two of my major vices (pizza and facebook), it caused a massive wobble in my resolve.

Aside from doing the obvious "sorting my life out" (attending all lectures, starting all essays more than 24 hours before the deadline, etc) I am also doing the stereotypical New Year "thing" of going on a health-kick and attempting to sort out my life. I have pledged to go to the gym for at least 45 minutes per day, on top of the cross-campus running I do already and restrict high-sugar and high-fat foods after literally piling on weight whilst being ill. So the giving up pizza shouldn't be too hard. I can probably live with it. It'll be hard, but I know that it'll help me out.

The facebook, however, is damn near impossible. I am addicted to facebook. I use it to avoid course-work, I use it to actually do student-media work and over half of my social calendar (I have always wanted to use that phrase) is planned via facebook. I am hoping that perhaps if I'm not spending my computer-time on facebook, I may take that time and use it to actually do some work - I'm chronically behind. I highly doubt this will be the case - it'll just supply me with extra time to spend watching iPlayer or reading the pile of 21 books I just bought from the campus book sale.

Twitter will be my saviour. It's not facebook, I won't get any notifications, I won't have to watch as the number of facebook messages in my inbox creeps up and I won't be online on facebook chat. I will get to be self-obsessed and update my status.

So, it might be a little cheat, but it'll take 30 seconds per day, and I don't even have to go online to do it.

Wish me luck: I'm hoping that the New Year's curse that always hits resolutions, making them fail, will not apply, given that technically I'm doing Lent resolutions.

A thinner, happier academically successful new self? Perhaps. A broken technophile suffering facebook withdrawal? Almost certainly.

2009-01-19T16:34:00.002Z

I started this blog in October, because of a particularly inspiring lecture on the impact of diaries, biographies, journals and (eventually) blogs on the study of history.

What I learned is, they're fairly useless. Because, despite the fact the diary is an intensely private thing, we all seem to suspect that somebody's going to read them. So, people don't write everything they want to. One memorable diary I looked up from the 18th Century said "baby girl, still-born. I am upset." The gentleman writing the diary continues to list the events of his day, and never mentions the loss of his daughter again. This, I suspect, is because he wanted to retain his decorum. Which destroys the point of a diary, surely.

I can sympathise. I flat-out refused to keep a diary when I lived with my parents, because there was no way it would remain private. Loose floorboards were fixed very judiciously by my dad who, bless him, didn't realise that I could put up with the squeaking if it meant I could live in my very own Enid Blyton story. My hollow books were actually bought for me by my mum, rendering them fairly useless in the arena of secrets, and the underneath of my mattress was far too stuffed with books I was illictly reading under the covers with a flashlight to accommodate a diary. So I have never kept one.

But back to the lecture. It was fairly inspiring stuff, and I suspect I was not the only person who left the auditorium feeling slightly guilty that I wasn't doing my part for the historical preservation of 1990 onwards. The closing thought from the lecturer was that everybody in that hall should start a blog. Well, penultimate thought; she closed by advising us to buy her latest book, earning - in the words of the girls sitting next to me - several Pamela Pilbeam Points.

I probably would have set aside the feeling that I should start one of these things had it not been for the same suggestion coming from several other sources at around the same time.

So, here I am, starting a blog, despite the fact that it's probably narcissistic, self-interested and unwise. There is a very real chance that this could replace my current favourite tool for procrastination. The only plus-side I can see is that running this blog may just improve my slightly erratic, not particularly refined writing style. But that's a good enough reason, right?

In the last 3 months, I have learned:

2009-01-11T03:22:00.000Z

*Delight at realising that you have every few contact hours fades when you realise how many essays you've been set

*While it is perfectly reasonable to write 2,000 words of bullshit, 3,000 or more is much harder.

*If you have 4 essays due in a five day period, you need to have started them all more than a month in advance

*The ability to speed-read is a massive plus

*Nocturnality is fun

*The novelty The Guardian at the studentified price of 30p will not get old

*Private Eye does not do student discounts

*Neither does the Spectator

*Nike+ is a genius invention

*The student overdraft is a wonderful and necessary thing

*Calling university "home" whilst at your parents' house causes what is commonly known as "an elephant in the room"

*iPlayer is wonderful

*Car crashes are painful

*Orange juice goes a long way to curing a hangover

*Deciding to give up alcohol after a disastrous 18th of a good friend is a resolution that will not last

*Giving up alcohol is not the answer to the problem

*The above is true, because alcohol is the answer

*Everybody dies. Everyone you ever met, everyone you ever will meet.

*Attending two events in three days that have the term "house party" included in the title will cause bad things. Liking telling people too much, and kissing random strangers and drinking more than is healthy.

*"Working" at a place called "Insanity" may actually save you from the fate it refers to

*People don't just answer "Conservative" when asked by straw polls who they will vote for as a joke. They are genuinely going to vote Conservative.

*It is not possible for 8 people to live in absolute harmony all the time

*Nerdishness is not always a bad thing

*Medicine is, generally, always the best medicine

*Liking walking in the middle of the night is almost certainly an idiosyncratic thing

*School was genuinely as bad as I thought it was, and anyone who says "they were the best years of your life" is clearly talking out of their arse, as university has already beaten it

*Living alone is far easier than they made out.

*Tescos feels much further away on the way back

*Tequila is better without Salt and Lime, but is a VERY BAD THING