What the bloody hell have I signed up for?

Ok wordpress, I’m back. Hi.

The person writing now is barely recognisable from the miserable sod who used to write on here. In fact, over the past few months I think I’ve changed massively, mainly for the good. In the period between this and the last post I was accepted to Newcastle University to study Law, I got the A-Level grades I needed, I had a summer with people who almost literally dragged me out of my shell, I learned how to cope with new people, and I learnt how to take things easy, and work without a plan.

It should come as no surprise, therefore, to learn that I am absolutely shitting myself.

The day after tomorrow, that is to say on Saturday 19th September 2009, I shall move out of the family home in a quiet(ish) town in Lincolnshire, make the 3 hour journey to Newcastle and move into my new room. I shall then show my parents and brothers around; I’ll show the family where I’ll be studying, where I’ll live etc, and then say goodbye to them. They’ll leave and then… [delete as applicable]

1. …  the world shall end. A huge hole shall open up and swallow me whole. I shall never be seen again.
2. … I shall stay in my room for the next week, then venture out into the open, only to be eaten by wild dogs.
3. … I shall forget where my room is and end up wandering the city streets at night. I shall then be kidnapped and brutally murdered.
4. … I shall sit down on my bed, realise what the hell has just happened, panic, probably cry, then throw myself head first into a totally new life. A life in a new city, with new people, new challenges, new goals, new risks, new places, new faces. Newcastle. Ok, I got carried away.

My point is, I have absolutely no idea whatsoever what to expect. I mean, this isn’t like going away for a weekend. I’m taking enough things with me to LIVE somewhere else. I’ll be responsible for my own life, my money, my food, my routine, my social life, my academic life. Now, is it just me or is that one massive step? I’ll go from living in my parents’ house with my family, with 2 meals a day (I don’t eat breakfast,) bills paid, cupboards full, warmth and water in abundance and a cat to a room, in a halls of residence, in a student village, in a big city, somewhere up North.

Even as I write this, the enormity of it all is kind of sitting on my head laughing, but refusing to sink in. Yes I know how massive the step is, but I simply can’t comprehend it. Which is why, when my parents say goodbye and I’m left sitting on the bed, I’m pretty sure I’ll be hit square in the face with a catastrophic wall of realisation.

I don’t feel ready for university. Yes I was ready to leave college, yes Law is what I want to study, and yes I can’t wait for the social experience of university life. But HELLO, this is me! I’m nowhere near mature enough for this kind of step, I’m certainly nowhere near organised enough for it. And so, as so often, it seems that a leap into the unknown is the order of the day.

I’m very sorry for not making a point in this. I’m very confused. My emotions seem to swing from petrified to excited to apprehensive to elated and back at least twice a minute. I’ve always known this time would come, but I could hold a gun to your head and tell you that I was going to shoot you, I could promise you  was going to shoot you, I could count down, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, yet you still wouldn’t believe it until it was too late. I knew the time would come when I moved out, I’ve hoped that I’d go to uni for years. Yet now, I can’t seem to convince myself. I haven’t packed yet. Yes, I have almost everything I need, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to pack it all yet. Oh no, that would make it all too real!

:s

What am I doing?

I hope I can swim!

Pothole

Around two hours ago I arrived home from college to a letter. The letter, from Oxford university, told me that my application to read the LLB law degree had failed, and was no longer under consideration by any of their colleges. This was the second such letter I had received in the space of a week. In many ways this spells the end of an ‘era’ yet in many ways I think it may have been exactly what I needed.

I applied to UCL and Oxford, as an early applicant, back in October. Both were ambitious applications; both for courses with less than 30 places and both to incredibly prestigious universities. I applied, because I knew that I would always regret not doing. And now, even though slightly crestfallen, I don’t regret either at all.

I had almost become complacent that all applicants were offered interviews and that, because I have a ridiculous invincibility complex at times, I would be no exception.

I am.

The context of the situation makes the blow slightly harder; many of those closest to me have already received offers from their first, second and third university choices. As far as I’m aware I’m the only person in my year to have received a rejection so far, and I’m currently on two.

When I received the first rejection I was upset, I’d pinned my hopes on university and here was the first indication that my “master plan” might not fall out exactly as I’d envisaged. I felt an irrational anger toward those with offers, to those who had heard nothing as yet, must mostly at myself. Yet after a very contemplative weekend I had managed to convince myself that UCL wasn’t the place for me anyway, and that I’d be much better suited to Oxford. In hindsight that was probably a mistake.

Yet there was no surprise when I opened the letter awaiting me this evening, I even had a feeling of resignation when opening it. Having read through it at least ten times I phoned my law teacher, who as always, was incredibly supportive and told me not to worry and get upset again. I then did the mature thing and logged on to facebook and updated my status to make sure everyone knew, then MSN. Suffice to say, by this point I had slumped into a deep pothole of self-pity.

Yet, as one friend put it, I’d become far too tunnel visioned. Yes I’d been rejected, but by top end universities. Regardless of other peoples’ offers:

“Thats like saying I got turned down by angelina joley and kelly brooke and Flint [another sicth former] shagged dawn french; how unfair is that!?” And then it hit me – It wasn’t the rejection that I was annoyed about, it was the dint in my pride.

It is so easy to become entirely surrounded by your own bubble that if and when it burts, it feels as if the whole world has turned upside down. In actual fact, you’re simply open to more possibilities. And it’s taken a lot for me to come to this realisation – the past two years have been nothing but working towards one ideal end goal. So much so that I have become tunnel-visioned and narrow-minded as a result. Yet strangely I now feel under less pressure, yet have more motivation. I know that what’s to come will be damn hard work, but I have to do it as me, not as somebody aiming to become something. I really do feel mightily stupid for having become so incredibly narrow. Well, I guess at least things will be different from now on.

Incidentally, should you ever feel crestfallen and incredibly self-pittious then might I suggest writing a blog about it and listening to Port Blue’s “The Albatross EP.” It reallydoes help to put things into perspective.

What today seems like the end of the world will tomorrow be a memory.

Perennial exhaustion

It’s that time of year again, I have finally reached the first holiday of the academic year – and not a moment too soon.

This year so far has left me with very little time to contemplate what’s happening. Since september I’ve organised my exams for the next year, abridged and directed a version of A Midsummer Night’s dream, applied to (two so far) university and just about managed to keep up to date with 4 A2 syllabuses. The past 8 weeks have left me longing for sleep, free-time and a clear schedule. Alas, you can’t always get what you want!

So during my free week I have to take my LNAT, the admissions test for Law which all of the top universities in the country demand. I also have to continue reading up for my interviews (if I’m offered any.) I’ve taken quite a liking to nervous shock in negligence and have been reading around it quite a lot recently. If you ever feel like being harrowed then read through the cases of Alcock, Copoc and Wright v Chief Constable of South Yorkshire Police, the cases arising from nervous shock, caused by those whoes relatives were killed in the Hillsborough disaster.

On a shallower note, I’ve really slipped out of the circle of currentness of late. I only found out, for example, that Snow Patrol and Kaiser Chiefs have new albums today – a BILLION years after they came out. The Kaiser Chiefs album is ok, but I prefer the last one, having seen them perform most of it live. And Snow Patrol’s new album is really growing on me, much more calm and collected than the previous.

Oh, less I forget the largest development since my last post – I am now 18. I am now, by rights, an adult. I can vote, though there’s another issue entirely, and can do pretty much anything I so wish. Scary hey!? This time next year I shall be at university, totally(ish) independent. That both excites, and scares the living poo out of me!

Ok, so there was a brief update of sorts. Hopefully I can get back to writing over the next week, I have missed it massively of late.

Milestone

It’s funny, but sometimes all we need in order to succeed is somebody to tell us that we’re going to fail.

Now, I don’t proclaim to be an expert in reverse psychology, nor do I hold out to have any sort of knowledge of the intricacies of the human thought process but I do know that, as a rule of thumb, if somebody tells me that I’m going to fail at something then I’ll do my damn hardest to prove them wrong.

I was recently told by an old school teacher that I would never make it as a barrister; I’m not dedicated enough, I lack the shrewdness and astuteness required to be anything more than a legal executive and said teacher said it was questionable whether or not I had the academic capability to do so. I was also advised by one of my teachers not to apply for a particular course at university as “it would be a waste of an application – the chances of being accepted don’t justify using up one of only 5 choices.”

Now accredit it to what you will; an inherent disregard for authority, an abnormal susceptibility to reverse psychology or blatant arrogance, I refuse to change my entire focus on one person’s say so. If said person is an expert then yes it gives food for thought, equally if the advice is from somebody I respect such as the latterly aforementioned teacher. However, if this contrary view comes fired from somebody on the cuff or is given with seemingly little contemplation then often it has the opposite effect on me. Take, for example, the former teacher. At the time they taught me I was 11 – a rowdy, boisterous year six with ideas above his station and an ego which could barely be contained. Many things change over the years; I’m now a year 13. I bumped into said teacher quite randomly in the town centre, she asked what I was studying and, as most people do, honed in on law. Now, on the whole people have huge misconceptions about those studying law. It may be surprising to learn but as I’ve had less than 12 months of legal teaching I’m actually not qualified to give legal advice, nor am I in a position to debate the confines to which we should limit current legislation. I can’t get your ‘mate’ off a traffic offence charge and I certainly shouldn’t be the one to read over a draft lease agreement! Yet alas said teacher had the pre-conceptions.

“You’re studying law? (At this point the abnormally large eyebrows have gained considerable altitude) Not going to be a lawyer are you?”

“Actually I’m considering becoming a barrister, although I’m not sure what area of law I’d like to specialise in.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I can’t see you in court. Not on the right side of the dock anyway! [laughs]” (said laugh was the sort of laugh where the defendant clearly meant what she had just said but was attempting to disguise her evident despise with a cover of severely unconvincing cachinnation.)

“Well I’ve changed a lot since Morton (primary school.) I expect everybody has.” This statement was a lie – the chances of her being any less of a miserable child-preying bitch than in 2001 are absolutely nil, as was confirmed by her response.

“Indeed.” Now that’s a response and a half. Which she followed up with a frankly unneeded soliloquy in which she outline how she thought I’d be unsuitable for the bar as, from what she knew of me, I wasn’t quite astute or shrewd enough. She then told me (because obviously I had no idea) that the bar is a very competitive career choice to take and that statistically I wouldn’t succeed.

Now this point has always been resonated whenever the issue of the bar has arisen, usually I take note and becoming adequately conscious of the gravity of my dreams. However, for some reason in the situation I completely disregarded the comment.

So finally I reach my point. If we only heed advice from the people we trust and/or respect what happens if we become distant from those closest to us and embark upon a path on which those whom we trust know nothing about. Surely we leave our pool of light and walk an entirely darkened path? And what happens if we perceive those around us as not knowing the ‘real us’? I don’t believe that Miss Norbron knows the real me, therefore I disregarded her opinions out of spite – the spite was only born from the fact that she once knew me but now clearly doesn’t. So, if I were to change in myself so dramatically that I thought those around me didn’t know what I’d become , would I listen to what they had to say about me? Not listen as in the physical sense of the verb, but heed advice, acknowledge opinions and subsequently challenge my own. Surely this is how some people we brand as ‘extremists’ come to be?

Hypothetical situation:

Tom, 32 years old working in an accountancy firm. 9am-6pm Monday-Friday. £24,000 per annum with a £250 Christmas bonus if he’s lucky. Tom hates his boss, but everyone else at work seems to get along with him. As a result Tom doesn’t go out with workmates and likes to keep work and private life very separate. Tom has a close group of friends he’s known since university; 5 of them that go out most weekends and spend the odd weekday in etc. Here Tom’s in what I guess you could call the normal situation. So what happens next?

The accountancy firm Tom works for decides to increase productivity; thus increasing working hours. Tom now works 9am-7pm Monday-Friday and 10am-2pm Saturday. Because he works later he doesn’t see his friends in the evenings. He also doesn’t see them on Saturdays anymore. He works a 6 day week so on Sunday he’s knackered. Work’s getting him down and the last thing he wants to do is get pissed on Sunday to awake Monday with a hangover. Because he doesn’t spend as much time with his friends he feels distant from them. The longer he goes without going out, the harder it becomes to take the plunge. A month goes by and he hasn’t been out for 4 weeks. At this stage he feels detached from his friends, he doesn’t have anyone to go out and grab a coffee with, noone to go out and have a walk and a chat to.

An opening for a promotion comes up at work; Tom thinks he could do the job, he knows it would be hard but it’s something that he really sees himself doing. The promotion requires extra knowledge and lots of preparatory work, so he sets about learning the additional material and skills required. A month down the line Tom has been studying and reading up on the areas and has really progressed; he’s also got talking to a couple of the other candidates and has revived some form of social life. In the elapsed time he hears that one of his old friends has got married, he wasn’t surprised not to receive an invite but it did make him think a little.

A week before the first interview Tom is nervous; he enjoys the new area of accountancy but it’s a massive change from his usual comfort zone and he’d be throwing himself into the unknown with no guarantee of security. His boss has clocked on that Tom hates him; Tom had confided in one candidate who, it transpired, was a close friend of the boss. The boss wants Tom out, the other candidates are now hostile as everybody wants the job. Tom really needs advice, or someone to talk to. As fate would have it he bumps into one of his old friends, Mark, on his daily trip to Starbucks.

They exchange niceties and both take orders to drink in; Mark orders a Cappuccino as he always has, Tom orders a Latté (a drink which he’d first tried after a recommendation form a candidate at work.) Things start to go wrong from here.

Mark: Latté? Since when have you ever liked Latté?

Tom: Since, well, ever.

Mark: You were always a Macchiato man, double shot with cream.

Tom: That’s a long time ago.

Here Tom is beginning to become hostile, Mark has made an issue out of a change. As far as Tom is concerned, however, this is Tom. Not a changed Tom, but Tom. After some discussion of their mutual friend’s wedding (Mark: they tried to phone you every day for two weeks. We all did, just after you’d have got back from work we phoned – you never answered. I came over personally one Saturday but you weren’t there.) they then progress to the topic of Tom’s promotion. Mark doesn’t understand why on earth Tom would want to go into tax accountancy.

Mark: No offence mate but you’re not one for tax. You’re more of a property guy, that’s what you’re good at. You love your job, you’re dedicated to it – we all know that.

Tom: But tax accountancy would give me so much more scope career-wise. (Tom has been studying really hard for the past couple of months and is really excited by the prospect.)

Mark: yeh but you shouldn’t take the job. There will be more, this one’s not for you mate.

After an “oh, so sorry, I have to go” get out Tom is alone again.

What would Mark know? He doesn’t know Tom anymore, he doesn’t understand what makes him tick what drives him, he doesn’t even know his coffee order! Mark doesn’t understand taxation and certainly doesn’t understand the firm. Tom won’t listen to him and heed his advice. Source of advice number 1 = ignored.

The other candidates want Tom to drop out. But of course they would, he’s the competition. They don’t actually care about him do they? Source number 2 = ignored.

The boss hates Tom as much as Tom hates him. He says he should quit the firm and drop out of accountancy all together. Source number 3 = ignored.

So how does this relate to me? Well, Tom has 3 people telling him that he shouldn’t go for it. Yet none of these people are of significance to really stop him. He may be about to make a huge mistake, and there is noone close enough to him to really understand his situation. A close friend would understand exactly what it meant to him, appreciate the sacrifices he had made and share, or at least have a inkling into Tom’s vision. Tom doesn’t have anyone like that. Perhaps this is how extremists come to be; perhaps they become fascinated with a political or ethical ideal to such an extent that it becomes a part of them. When others do not understand the ideal then it appears that they do not understand the individual. Said subject then becomes detached from those closet to him/her. Here the safety blanket is burned. The only guidance which will be heeded is that of the conscience – yet if this has been replaced by a dependency or fanaticism then people can be ‘controlled’ by third parties; literature, protagonists; dictators. How do we know when our safety blanket is burning?

I guess it’s hard to tell; we all go through social changes and upheavals. Friendships change, disappear, reignite and sometimes stagnate. But so long as we have at least one constant, one reference point so-to-speak I guess we can all cling on to the ledge of normality. Without a ‘rock’ (apologies for the clichée) we cannot set a bearing for a new path. We need a point to start at, a point which we know is fixed and shall be there should we decide to return, or flee back to. We are all dependent upon our friends, yet perhaps we may not realise to what degree until it is too late.

I hope Tom finds happiness,

and that Miss Norbron needs a barrister in ten years time.

Rush, write, relax.

The proverbial faecal matter hit the fan this morning.

It would seem that buses near me don’t run on a Sunday. Therefore I cannot get to Doncaster train station by bus. No Doncaster station = no train to Newark. No train to Newark = No mini-bus to Stanstead. No Stanstead = No Berlin = Untimely and gruesome death.

So this is karma well and truly bending me over and kicking me with its size 11 steel toe-cap boots firmly up the arse. I tried to be slightly spontaneous recently. That will not do!

Thankfully when I panic I think of lots of situations/possibilities. So an hour later I’m now getting a lift (which I’m paying for in Euros) to Retford train station and then I’m getting a direct service to Newark. Thankfully it won’t cost me as much. Not so thankfully it’ll mean I’m in Newark 2 hours early and without starbucks. Oh the sacrifices we make. So, should you bump into me today in Retford or Newark before 2pm allow me to give a word (or three) of advice. DO NOT APPROACH! lol, I’m all flustered now so methinks a bit of alone + ipod time is required. Thankfully I love travelling, more so at times than actual holidays, so I’m not too worried about all of this. Now I know I can actually get there I’m fine. I even considered taking my mum’s car, well for part of the journey.

Anyhoo, I need to go soon and I think a cup of tea is in order before-hand.

I feel much calmer now than when I started writing, oh the wonders of blogging, lol.

Bis bald x

Bonjour. J’ai eu un bon jour :D

So, today has been epic.

I awoke relatively and mooched around the house until about 10am. Then I dressed and walked into town and caught the first bus I could to Lincoln. It turned out that I got on the OAP service, being as I was the only passenger under the age of 50. Until half way through the journey. Then an old friend from secondary school got on. We spent the rest of the journey comparing our experiences of our different colleges. His sounds so much better than mine. Namely as he has a social life, lol.

I got off the bus and decided to take a walk along the river for a bit. So I followed the river out of the city centre for about 10 minutes and came to a quiet spot. Then I sat for a while and listened to my ipod and watched random pieces of litter flowing downstream, I even decided to video one piece. Becaus, well, I had nothing better to do. It’s only a short (and, I expect, mind-numbingly boring) clip because my camera seems to increase battery-usage ten-fold when videoing so I made it short for fear of wasting my batteries before I’d started the day properly. I had brought spares of course.

And then I walked up the hill, and back down. On the way down I found a little alleyway which was quite quaint. And then I made my way back to the bus station. Then I made my way to Waterstone’s. Firstly the big one, I had my usual flick through the latest satirical political commentaries – as recommended by the Waterstone’s e-mail I get weekly (ok, maybe a tiny bit sad, but I don’t care.) I then considered buying a book about Berlin because I’m going there for four days tomorrow. I then thought against it and instead decided to make my way to Starbucks. But on the way to Starbucks I remembered a letter I got recently asking me whether I’d read anything interesting or not recently. The answer is no, so I diverted myself to the second Waterstone’s in Lincoln and set about finding a book. I wanted something fictional for once, because recently a lot of my reading has been very factual, and often technical. But I wanted something that would be interesting and make me think. Thankfully I stumbled upon an absolute gem. (Note; I’ve only read a quarter of the book so far so it may not be a gem, just a quarter gem.) The book is called “Jack” and it’s by A. M. Homes. The author wrote Jack when she was 19, and you can perhaps tell from the writing style. It’s also written in the first person, so it reads almost like a blog. The plot is sufficiently complex enough to adequately mirror the life of the average 19 year-old and the use of humour and suchlike makes it really easy to empathise with the writer. Yes, the events of the story are slightly more extreme than some of us are used to, but so far so good. I’ll endeavour to tell you my opinion of it when I’m finished.

So, having bought the book (£7.99 – £5 of which I paid with a book token, yet still got Waterstone’s card points for the entire price! ) I made my way to Starbucks where I had planned to meet a friend. I got myself a Caramel Latte and a Belgian Chocolate Fudge Brownie (as pictured above) and sat down to read. Unfortunately the aforementioned friend had neglected to wake up that morning Eventually, an hour and fifty minutes later, I reached for the brownie and there was none left. (Let me please highlight the momentousness of that statement – I made a brownie last 1h50mins! Which proves that the novel is extremely engrossing!) So I closed the book, drank the cold drags of the caramel latte and started the hike up to the cathedral.

Any of you who’ve ever attempted to scale steep hill in Lincoln will know that it’s more than capable of giving the late Edmund Hillary an exhausting run for his money (well, especially now being as he’s dead and all.) But it wasn’t too bad actually. The air was cold so it was quite thin and I managed it with much more ease than normal. Then I walked around the Bail briefly and then the Cathedral. Adequately awed, and with a now adequately filled camera memory card, I made my way down the curvy hill past the Usher Gallery and back to High street. I had a walk down to the football stadium and then back up and then decided to call it a day.

(I quite liked this picture: http://img406.imageshack.us/my.php?image=lin082ba5.jpg just because of the lack of clouds )

It seems that during the day, the amount of old people that it is possible to fit in a bus increased massively! So after an hour long spell in God’s portable waiting room I found myself back in Gainsborough. I walked home, via a takeaway where I purchased egg-fried rice with House Special Curry (the special bit is that it costs £1 more and has what vaguely resemble mushrooms in it.) I then scaled another hill to get home and heated my cuisine and ate it.

Then I had a bath, then I took all of my neatly ironed vetements and threw them onto my bed. Then chose a random selection of trousers (read: jeans,) T-shirts and jumpers. I then folded them so they were even smaller and shoved them into my hold-all for tomorrow. Shortly afterwards, they were joined by underwear and two towels. I’m yet to sort out what toiletries to take, and then of course come chargers, electrical devices, weapons of mass destruction etc.

Having almost packed my bags I decided to write about what had actually been quite a nice day. And so, a considerable number of minutes later here I (that “I” was the 1000th word in this post by the way!) am. So in conclusion, today has been pretty good. I risk sounding socially retarded here, but I actually enjoyed being alone but being surrounded by people. It was quite refreshing.

I’m quite excited about Berlin now. I set off at 9am tomorrow morning, we get to our Hotel (the Hotel Domicili – http://www.hotel-domicil-berlin.de/ ) at around midnight CET (GMT+1.) I’m really really excited because it’s a small group of us, and I’m really good friends with everyone that’s going. So yeh, if things were looking up anymore they’d be looking behind me That made sense in my head too!

Now I shall love and leave you all, for now.

Bis Bald! x

(Un)muted frustration

    It’s been a while since I last blogged. And I guess I should, or rather could, start by explaining why.

    I’ve been hit, square in the face, by a brick wall of complete and utter apathy. Of late I am, quite possibly, the single most boring person, emotionally speaking, on the face of the planet. At the moment I can’t help but feeling, well, grey.

I have no idea what to say. I don’t have any particularly momentous thoughts at the moment, no emotions are tugging heartstrings, nothing is peeving me off to the extent that I feel I have to denounce it openly in writing. In fact, if anything less was happening in my head then I’m pretty sure I could be classed as brain-dead. The emotions I do stumble across in my penumbrally wandering state are often mere pebbles at the roadside. Whereas usually I’d encounter great potholes and hurdles across my path.

    So, taking an objective view of all of this. Essentially, I seem to be more apathetic and more detached. Well, that’s great? Surely that means that I don’t have reason to complain or grumble, criticise or attempt to make sense of anything. Maybe, just for once, I can shut the fuck up. Well, no. Because I’m trapped in a cloud of grey and I’m used to the LSD-like colours and surroundings of an almost psychotic and mesmeric parallel world. So, sorry, but grey is boring my pissing socks off! And not only that, grey has meaning to me. Usually this greyness is the sign of things to come, or things passed. But now this is my past, present and future. I’m drowning, and the longer this goes on the deeper the water gets. I can feel myself sinking away from the reality that was previously so damn perfect. And so now I feel myself feeling bitter, cheated. And I enjoy that because it’s emotion! Sod what type of emotion it is, I’m feeling it so i’m enjoying it. But now I’ve revelled in it the bitterness has gone and I’m back in the penumbral cloud of grey. I’m using grey a lot. I don’t dislike the colour grey itself. I just chose it to describe this state. I’d say it was beige? But I quite like beige too. Black? Love black. Pink? too happy. See, not only am I apathetic but I’m indecisive and plain stupid too.

I can’t imagine how utterly fucked up this will sound to read. And to be fair, I don’t care. Well, it’s not that I don’t care, I just, don’t understand? ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!

FKJLASDJLLGJASHAH!!

I HATE THIS

ABSOLUTELY EVERY FUCKING MOMENT OF IT

I CAN’T DO IT

    And, I don’t expect anyone to understand because I don’t even understand it. I just feel like I’m no longer living my life, but watching it being lived. I feel like a spectator of myself. I’m frustrated, angry, upset, confused, bewildered and bitter. And I hate it, but none of these emotions are half of what I’m used to. And I know I sound melodramatic, attention-seeking and pretty much outright mental but I just need to feel something.

    To those of you who know me, I’m sorry if this makes you feel awkward around me but I just had to get it off my chest. To the two, who know who they are, I love you both very much and always will do. And I’m sorry if of late I’m detached, moody and downright bastard-like. And to those of you who don’t know me. Well, consider yourselves lucky I guess.

    I probably shouldn’t have written this. And will no doubt delete it at a later date. But for the moment it will stay. As, it seems, will my cloud. However, I do have a sliver lining. And I’ve mentioned them previously. Thank you. I’m sorry.

P.S – I’m also extremely sorry for my language in this post. It’s not big, and it’s not clever – but it does serve as some elementary form of primitive release.

Outsider

One of my worries of late has been about my old friends. Recently it was hammered home to me that I’d not been spending time with those who I used to class as closest to me. And as a result I’ve well and truly thrown myself from the circle of friendship. I don’t feel like I can address the problem fully though because it’s a bigger group than it used to be. And it now comprises of some people I really don’t like. And it’s impossible to talk to one person, and it not filter through the whole group. And I know they talk about me behind my back, and I know that as a whole they fucking hate me.

I guess this would be a million times worse If I didn’t have some epic friends who are always there for me. But I feel guilty burdening people with my, to be fair, self-inflicted problems when they all have things of their own to deal with. So, in an attempt to write down some of my thoughts I wrote another poem. I must apologise for the quality and quantity of my poems. They’re not really meant to be read, I just like putting thoughts down. And if you can make any sense of them then you’re probably in, or have been, in a similar situation. Either which way you’ll probably detest the analogy I chose.

A circle of light,
a chain of faces
unbroken and impenetrable.
No entry, no exit.

And then the light fades,
I’m moving backwards,
slow at first,
I do not understand.

I watch, stay, do nothing,
make no sound,
moving quicker,
quicker, lights become dim.

The edge of the circle
passes my side,
I am out.
Too late, it has passed.

I do not know how,
I wish to be inside,
yet I see only the turned heads,
of people I once knew.

I cannot turn one head,
without turning them all.
There is no easy way in,
out once, out forever.

There is no easy way,
no one step at a time.
No, jump down all of the steps, plunge,
or never see the bottom again.

And still the light there shines,
but now it seems tinted.
Green, red.
A white flag would looked coloured in their eyes.

I have changed.

Well, sorry for wasting more of your time. I guess I just have decide where I want to go and focus. But if you don’t know where you’re going then any path can take you there! And I really don’t feel like choosing a path right now.

Knowledge, Wisdom, other.

So I’ve decided that major reforms aren’t in order – thank you Michael. However, I wanted to try something a bit different so I’ll try and inject it somewhere in the ensuing entry.

I finished watching American Beauty about 30 minutes ago, my word is that film thought-provoking. Needless to say I cried in certain points and one line in particular has implanted itself into my memory already: “There’s nothing worse in life than being ordinary.” Well I’d say I’m pretty much 50/50 split on my agreement with that. Sure, ordinary can be boring – doing the same thing day in, day out, meeting the same people, being the same person, conforming to “their” standards and living a desperately prescribed life. However, on the flip side of the coin ordinary can be amazing. Surely ordinary is a calm, relaxing and peaceful state? Ordinary is beige, not glaringly bohemian yet by no means resignedly dull either. Ordinary, like beige, is a haven from the extremes we create in our lives. Ordinary is good once in a while, and we would do well not to synonamise ordinary with boring.

Additionally, the writer brought up the issue of beauty. Not chick-flick, skin deep “How big are your boobs?” beauty, but true natural beauty. And to me true beauty is really hard to find. I’m quite willing to admit that I’m often so engrossed in my ultimately insignificant quotidienne that I often ignore what is all around me, and I expect that it is this that makes me so ignorant to the beauty of things around me. But beauty is a concept, and I fear it’s one I don’t fully understand. Not through lack of trying. I, I just tend to think about things too much? And often I attribute what some would class as beauty to other things. I can’t really explain it, as you’ve already seen – in fact, I made quite the pig’s ear of that entire section!

So I’ll move on. I wrote a short poem earlier and this is where I risk offending the masses. I’m not a writer, I have very little knowledge of the intricacies of the English language and I don’t particularly like making things follow a pattern if I’m streaming my thoughts. The following isn’t meant to sound pretentious, or naïve, though I fear it will tick both of the boxes on the shameful list.

I can’t describe what I know,
for what I know and believe
are to me a kin yet to you,
lies.

And when I try to tell myself
that the truth I know is false,
I can muster no belief
and I question truth, not self.

When posing question to a truth,
the answer can merely be thought,
and thoughts are born of mind
so to question is to think?

And if to question is to think,
then an answer is to know.
How do I know if I do not question?
And who do I question, who answers?

I cannot question of myself,
for no answer will come of knowledge,
knowledge which comes from question.
I am never to know, but always to question.

Still it plagues me,
question – why?

Yeh, so there it is. Essentially it’s confusion mixed with desperate attempts at reason thrown into some sort of literary format. Perhaps next time I should confine my less legible thoughts to my head!

Lack of legibility – this leads me nicely onto the topic of history homework. Now, if you’ve ever studied the Napoleonic regime with particular reference to the centralisation of French government then please feel free to comment and give me any pearls of wisdom which you wish to share. Because I think it’s safe to say that I haven’t got a clue. I’ve been trying (well, sort of thinking about whilst doing other things) to make an information sheet about the aforementioned area but I’ve had little (read:no) success! So I guess I’ll do what the Bourbon Monarchy did and just give up the ghost!

As I shall with this post, I’m not going to make my next posts too long because I’d risk writing everything I have to say at the moment in a few posts, where I could span it out and not have to worry about what to write. Worry not, I have many many thoughts to come!

For now, however, I bid thee farewell.

Abashed, Banal, Bromidic

” We’ve all done it at some point. Sitting at the back of the classroom, our attention span fully exhausted and our will to live somewhat sapping. All of a sudden the paper clip in front of you seems awfully interesting. Now, I don’t proclaim to be an expert on the uses of paper clips but I do know that unraveling the seemingly perfect form is a fantastic way to waste 30 seconds of otherwise unproductive time. Unfortunately I feel as though I have become that paper clip. And I’m sure you also know that re-forming an unraveled paper clip is impossible. I’m hoping I’ve not reached that situation.

So I guess I should explain my feelings and the reasons for them. I’m extremely sorry but I’m going to have to use the C word. Change. Yep, I expect this word is getting quite cocky with its dominant position in my tag cloud but it really is one of the major driving forces in my life en ce moment. The dynamics of my life have shifted and I’m now in a strange position – I’m adapting in a way which I feel like I can control. “

Ok, that’s what I started with. Re-reading it it just sounds pretentious, nonsensical and plain crap. So I’ll try a more concise route to my point (if and when I ever decide upon one.)

Basically the changes in my life have stopped and I’m now in the situation where I can finally take stock and try to decide what path to take. My emotions and feelings have sort of toned themselves down and I now feel like I can enjoy what I have at the moment, in the moment. I’m pretty confident that I’ve judged the situations around me relatively well and I can see the ways things are heading. There are bits I’m not going to enjoy but equally things on the whole are looking up.

I seem to have lost all inspiration with regards to this blog and I genuinely don’t know what to write here anymore. You can see that my last post was a week ago so obviously procrastination is starting to have its wicked way with me. I think, as a result, that a change in direction is in order. My next post may well be something very different to my usual ramblings on about various thoughts, alternatively it could just never appear.

Recently I’ve been writing a piece about a boy in secondary school, I may even type a little bit up for a change. Though I’d risk boring those of you who ever read this to death.

Sorry this has been genuinely crap. I’m sorry that you’ll inevitably feel that some of your time has been wasted. It you really want to make up for it and do something productive try bending a paper clip into a straight line!

Wow, that sure was an horrific ending.

Hm, Sorry.