Sleepwalking my way through life: January 2006


Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Looks like I'm not going to university.


And now a word from our sponsor

Friday, January 27, 2006
No friday post for now.

Check back later.

Shouting match of the clueless

Another morning in.

First and second period are free, so I'm neglecting the free bus ride so I can hang about on the net for a bit. I'm going to swing by the health centre later and pick up my results, I'm sure everything will be fine.

Yeah, things'll be just fine. I know it.

Three conditionals from Glasgow University. It's not what I was hoping for, but it will have to do. When I heard everybody going on and on about their unconditional acceptances to here and there, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of hope rising in my chest. I even knew a few people who had gotten similar marks (Maybe one or two above me) and had achieved in getting into Glasgow Uni's English Literature course.

Yet I didn't.

"Looks like I'm staying in school." I said to Marie as she walked into the room. She was a great help when it came to University dealings, telling me about everything that happens and how things work, and she helped me again. It wasn't the end of the world, I knew that, but it was still nice to hear it.

I told my mum last night, she asked me what I needed to get for Uni, and the shouting ensued. Mum telling me what to do and Chris telling me that it's not possible while I stood in the middle and tried to defend my own knowledge of the subject. No one knew what they were talking about, Mum had applied a million years ago, Chris didn't have as much entry requirements and I had little to no help from the school. So I went to bed, gripping my glass of water so hard that I thought it would break.

An hour later and I was calm again. The thoughts of an angel muffled my fears and I was soon asleep. I need to ask questions today.

I'm trying to mend some bridges between a few people, and even start using some again, but I know that in the process I'm going to have to burn a few. And I know exactly which ones.

But where did I put my matches?

-End rambling nonsense-

Hulk roar

Thursday, January 26, 2006
I'm filled with a gut numbing, incomprehensible rage right now.

And I'm not exaggerating.

I sometimes forget how lucky I am. Friends, family, a girlfriend, a sexy Lapdancer and just general happiness. I sit here, snug and safe in my detached house, with its leather couches and widescreen tvs, not to mention the comfy bed I have upstairs. When I come home from school I'm greeted with warmth and comfort. The worst thing that can happen is an argument with the female parental unit.

The internet is an amazing place. You can see thousands of terabytes worth of information, and still growing thanks to the billion or more people who log on and add to it every day. This information comes in news, facts, jokes, opinions, pictures, and sometimes it's just someone who has a story to tell.

There's nothing like a good story to show you how things can be much worse.

Waiting for my trousers to dry.

Monday, January 23, 2006
A cold Monday morning it be. Yarr.

I slept in, and instead of making up time by eating breakfast while brushing my teeth I languidly slumped everywhere and watched as time passed by as slowly as my bus. And so I sit here, at five to nine, with a loss of what to do.

I could get up right now, slip on my shoes and go to school, but where's the fun in that? I'd only walk in halfway through drama with scowling faces looking towards me as I missed notes. The teacher would look up at me, his beady little eyes shining with smug anger and his mouth twitching into a sneer as he asked me where I had been. And I would calmly answer that I had a doctors appointment, but they confused the time and it was for tomorrow instead of today. I'd then sit on a seat and practice my skills at slapping Helen silly.

This is only a half truth however. Yes, I do have a doctors appointment, and yes it is in the morning, but I was the one who made the clerical error.

The week before last I paid a visit to the doctors to arrange a bloodtest to help silence my worries of diabetes, and they had arranged one for me on "Monday the twenty fourth of January" and told me not to eat anything for twelve hours before hand.

If you haven't noticed, this is Monday the twenty third of January.

And so I wait for tomorrow where I shall have to miss a period of English to compensate it.

Ah, I'd better go now. I'd like to leave the house before my brother gets up from bed, meaning I can hide my Lapdancer and freak him out by making him think that someone is in the house.

Yes, I am evil.

And I still remember the Gay Gordon

Sunday, January 22, 2006
And another Sunday passes where I promise myself to do lots of homework yet don't.

I could even do it right now, an hour upstairs should more than enough to get me on my way out of homeworksville. But why do it now when I can do it later? What else are late nights for?

The weekend has been fun. Went dancing on Friday night and had fun, surprisingly. Lots and lots of laughs as we stumbled and fumbled on crushed toes and numerous left feet.
I heard old family stories about caravans and card games while jigs were jigged in the background and drunken lads span round in a threateningly fun manner. Some guy almost got up the courage to hit on Marie, but after noticing that I was holding her hand he made an awkward u-turn and headed in the other direction. It was fun. Although stuffing yourself with pringles before dancing in concentric circles is not the best idea.

Saturday was spent in Glasgow town, a place I have not stepped foot in for nigh on a month. I saw the old sights, walked about the same old places, and crossed the same old streets, memories coming back to me with a rush of nostalgia. The Hub, our coffee cafe of killing time, was closed so we gathered our spirits and tried Cafe Nero where we had a toasted meatball sandwich and discussed many topics.

After a brief trip down memory lane (Or was it George Square? I can't remember these days) we headed up to the cinema to watch the first film together since Serenity back in October. It was a good film, and a warm shoulder is much more comfortable to lean against than those normal cinema seats. And I still need to write to the cinema owner about installing couches.

Ah, but the bells toll nine and I must reach for the phone. We have yet more topics to discuss.

Friendship is like a warm, chocolate doughnut

Friday, January 20, 2006
The regular update at the end of a long week.

It's been my first full week back at school, which I guess is the reason for the longness of it. I already feel back at home, I've nestled back into my groove and I'm as comfortable as ever.


My friends are drifting apart. It's obvious to anyone, yet we'll only talk about it in the private circle of huddled heads. The only thing that is really keeping us together is the promise of going to the prom together, sharing a limo. After that people are going to drift until the group disbands.

I'm just wondering where I'll go. Who'll I'll be with.

Most likely the group that stays in our little corner of the Crush.

But I won't talk about that for too long. I need to think and get my facts straight before I begin to debate things.

I'm heading to a ceilidh tonight. Marie's mum and dad invited us to go, and since I showed interest and wanted to see Marie badly (I never saw her last Saturday) I agreed to go. Now a slight panic has set in my stomach as I realise that I have no idea what to wear, what to do or even how to dance. I have a haunting vision of tripping over my own feet and stumbling face first into some form of potato salad.

Marie's mum is picking me up after I get home from school too. A whole half hour of car talk with the mother-in-law, maybe I should be panicking about that. Marie warned me not to be backed into a corner when she's asking me questions. Now I have a good reason to be panicked.

We're meeting up tomorrow too. We haven't been on a proper date in ages, so we're heading to the cinema to catch Memoirs of a Geisha so we can feel like a couple and make single people jealous. I'm looking forward to it, a lot.

We spent three hours on the phone last night. From nine until one in the morning when I felt so tired that I was almost asleep on the phone. The thing is that as soon as I hung up the phone I felt more awake than ever and laid awake in bed for a good half hour before finally drifting off. I was so excited about the next day, Friday, and what it could hold.

And now I know what it holds. A day filled with the Return of the Bishop, creme eggs and the slow realisation that a friend is no longer a friend. But I suppose I've known that for a while now.

The end of a long week with the promise of a good weekend is a sweet thought.

Everyone! The milky bars are on me!

Tuesday, January 17, 2006
School. Cold. Bad music. Bad combination.

But I shall not fret for long. It happens to be a Tuesday and I see a glorious shaft of light in the dark gloomy clouds of winter, in a mere two hours I will be home free to spend my winnings in HMV and return to my humble abode to take a stab at my dissertation.

I have to return two DVD's, totaling up to about forty pounds plus twenty pounds worth of vouchers means I can acquire quite a few new useless DVD's that I'll watch once and forget for a while, or I can pray that they finally have the Ghost in the Shell:SAC 1st GIG in stock. Or maybe even Full Metal Alchemist.

Lets stop the boring ramblings of an anime freak here.

I passed my Advanced English unit test, barely. MsHarte said that I never get to the point of things, that I let them dangle in the air. I'll have to talk to her and ask her what she means by that next time I see her.

The bus stop changed yesterday, meaning I now have to travel to a different bus stop for my traveling needs. Unfortunately no one took the time to tell me this yesterday.

The bus stop was unusually empty, filled with many people who were shorter than me gathered in groups and chattering about their pointless gossip while I stood at the side by myself, contemplating my music while the wind blew my hair into my eyes once again. A bus came along, and by the sign in the front window I knew it was the bus for Ballerup. No problem, I'll just hang about until my bus comes. It's half past, so it should be here soon.

I realised that something was wrong when the Ballerup bus pulled away, leaving the bus stop empty apart from a confused seventeen year old who was cursing the wind for blowing yet more hair into his already hairy eyes. I turned and headed down a street in the general direction of the school. I had missed the bus, it had came early causing me to miss it and be late for school. Perfect.

While walking up to the school I spied two people, students, walking the opposite way to the town centre. As we got closer I realised that it was Jen and Chaz. I am unsure what to do, say hi? No, just walk on head low and pretend not to see them. Easy. Then I notice that they've noticed me too, and are planning to do the same thing.

And I can't help but laugh as we pass each other.

I trudged up to school, jumping into class just as the bell rung nine. Drama wasn't bad this time round. The teacher let us act out scenes that we needed to do for the exam. I sat by myself, pouring over the script in an attempt to learn my lines. Everyone else was practicing with their partners, partners I didn't have seeing as I was away. So I was reading a scene from the Crucible to myself whe Helen wandered over.

"Hey Joe, you mind going over my lines with me for the Crucible?"

"Sure, I need the practice. I have to find out what this Proctor fella is like..."

Me and Helen go way back, back to when I first got into drama. We attended the same drama group in the Arts Centre for three years, that's three years of bad plays, mini-

The bell tolls, and I must leave.

Lamentations of one with many friends

Monday, January 16, 2006
Sometimes I wish my friends would act like friends.

We're sitting at lunch, everyone's all happy and laughing while discussing plans for prom. I'm sitting at the side, staring intently at my English notes knowing for a fact that none of it is getting through, so I start to listen to my friends around me and their daily dealings.

There's a rabble about where people are being picked up in the limo, people want to be picked up here, but the limo might not be able to go there, so people want to be picked up there. No worries though, things are being sorted out and it'll soon be fine.

"Well, we talked about it and we want to get a car. Like a really fancy wedding car."

The gears grind to a halt as the spanner is jammed into the works.

A few people go silent, a few people look towards the one who threw the spanner, and a few people laugh heartily at a joke, but they don't count.

Things stop for a second before picking themselves up again. Things are rearranged, people move about and all are happy, because this means we can do things for cheaper. People get their limo and pay less, people get their fancy cars and pay what they want.

And then it starts.

To be frank, I don't care about the transportation. If it gets me there, then I'm happy. I don't care if it's a limo, a hummer or even a hurse. As long as it's got four wheels and looks half decent then I'm in it. But there are many people in my group of friends who do not share my point of view.

And the snide remarks begin, followed by casual ignoring and finally (My all time favourite) silent anger.

"I foresee a few fall outs over this." I murmur to the occupant of the seat beside me.

"I couldn't care less about that." They had replied.

A good chunk of my friends don't like the other chunk, and vice versa. They bitch behind peoples backs, they make sarcastic comments, they shout each other down, and all the while I'm in the middle with my eyes closed and my hands over my ears.

Why can't we all hold hands and sing songs?

I returned to my English notes, trying deperately to memorise quotes before the clock ran out while everyone around me continued with sly remarks.

Procrastination rocks

Sunday, January 15, 2006
My Stevenson essay is in another tab right now, but I have already resigned to failure on that account.

J-pop anime music is screaming from my speakers, probably the reason why I'm not concentrating right now, and I've just been thinking about my time away and all the different adventures I had. Too many, in fact, to write here.

Fear not, I'm still going to write it down, I just don't want it to disrupt the normal... flow of my usual posts. I'll work on it as a side project. Don't worry, you'll learn of my foreign shenanigans eventually.

Did I mention that my drama teacher wants to talk to me about my attendance? When a teacher who barely knows your name notices that you're gone you know you're in trouble. Add the fact that I haven't done the dissertation segment that was due for the sixteenth of December and you'll see that I'm really messing up on my school work.

Soon I shall implement plans to stop these things and get up to date, as well as resupply my bank account which has gone from two thousand to seven hundred pounds in six months.

When I came back from Singapore I found my room in a spotless state, as in it had never been more clean. My mum had done me the good deed of organising everything that was in my room, cleaning it out and tidying it up so that everything had it's own place. If you think that this was nice of my mum then you are seriously mistaken. Yes she did tidy my room, bringing chaos to order, but it was only a small sacrifice to pay for the amount of snooping she achieved. She looked through my drawers, in my wardrobe and under my bed. Needless to say that she found many private items, including some sensitive papers.

And so she knows of my shameful money spending. Giving me miniature lectures at every opportunity, telling me off for spending a large chunk or my nest egg. The only thing that will silence her is if I find a job, a process that I will look into soon enough.

My brother is stealing my Lapdancer from me. Just because he broke his laptop (It being in the shop for repair) the hwoon dahn thinks he has a rite to take mine away. He tells mum that he's doing project work for university before sitting and playing Age of Empires III. And I'm afraid of what he does when I'm at school. Who knows what my precious Lapdancer has seen?

J-pop isn't all too bad to be honest.

And yet no one bought me a calendar

Saturday, January 14, 2006
Here I am, another day late and one year older.

Yesterday, I can say with confidence, was the best birthday every. A quiet morning filled with unwrapped presents, a fun day with laughing friends, and the evening was well... Perfect.

Last year was a year of change, a bitter sweet year that went by too fast to be frank. But I'm glad it's over, things seem better now.

Mum has given me a task, a quest if you will, to help someone. So watch me don my sword and shield as I help not one, but four people. It makes me feel special.

A short post, I had a lot of deep stuff to say but none of it seems to matter. And besides, almost all of it is bullshit anyway.

But there is one thing. Every year someone asks "Do you feel different?"

"No." I always reply with an uninterested voice and a dismissive hand movement.

I do feel different. I feel bigger, older, less... Ickle.

The rewritten beginning.

Thursday, January 12, 2006
I stepped onto the plane, a smile on my face and a skip in my step as I embarked on what I hoped to be a good journey. The flight was quite full due to me being late to board, and my seat (Unfortunately the middle seat of three) was already surrounded by two men, so I walked up to the seats and waited on the edge, expecting the one closest to stand up and let me in.

He did not.

He merely tucked his legs in as to indicate that I shuffle past. I complied, and shunted my way past and landed in my seat before depositing my bag under the seat in front of me and slipping off my shoes. The man on my right, by the aisle, was quite a short man, with a gaping toothed, yellow smile and a smell that resembled an unchanged nappy. The man on my left, by the window, was a very large man with glasses who had the nasty habit of sucking his teeth. Both of them seemed to have tired arms, for all the arm rest was taken in their support.

The plane took off, and we settled in after being served the most disgusting coke ever. I am never drinking Dutch coke again. So I started reading my book for English, looking for quotes and whatnot when Smelly, the guy to the right of me, farts and picks his nose. I turn away from him and continue reading my book, trying to ignore the foul smell in which I'm immersed in. Meanwhile, my ears are filled with the sucking sounds of Fatty, to the left of me, who is determined to pull his teeth out with his tongue. I can handle this, I think to myself. But as I finish this though, Fatty belches, brings his foot up, takes off his sock, and scratches his bunion.

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce you to the worst flight ever.

The rest of the flight was filled with me feeling sick, not being able to sleep, feeling sick some more, using the Lapdancer to alleviate my boredom, feeling sick again, crying with frustration about not being able to sleep, retching, sleeping for ten minutes before being kicked by Smelly, feeling sick, retching again, almost sick in fumes of breakfast, ate a ton of Minstrels, threw up, landed.

So I trudge off the flight, bag over my shoulder and a bottle of water to my lips, and sit down opposite the gate on an empty set of seats. I watch as people pour out of the plane and head off like a mass of sheep as they hurried to get a good spot to collect their bags. Soon I was all alone and out of the nice tasting fruit water, so I decided to get to work. On the flight they had issued us with a form to fill out for immigration. I filled it out, making sure to use block capitals and that my eights resembled eights (And not sixes like some people have cared to point out), but then I hit a speed bump.

Nationality : "BRITISH"
Time of stay : "22 DAYS"
Address of residence you'll be staying at : "OH FUCK"

I emptied my bag, I emptied my jacket, hell, I emptied my SHOES in the search for the little slip of paper that revealed the secret of my dad's location. It's not there. I search through all the papers that I had printed out, not there. Could it be on the plane? I think desperately as I look up to the gate, hoping for a chance to dash out and search my seat. But as I look up they begin to shut the doors, and a glance to the window showing the plane taxiing away out of sight, and my piece of paper with it.

So I pack up and slowly make my way to immigration with a small slug of panic brewing in my gut. Here I was, stuck in a foreign country with no way back for three weeks. Come to think of it, I wasn't even IN a foreign country. I was in the godless loophole between countries. I was in an AIRPORT.

I shuddered at the thought and made my way down the escalator towards the immigration desk. I was the only one there and the people behind the desk eyed me suspiciously as I walked up to one of them. I handed my passport with my form and he checked it over intently. There was a small glimmer of hope in my stomach that led me to believe that I could make it through at this point. That I could get by here without having to know dad's address.

"I can't let you by, you haven't written down an address."

Turns out the glimmer of hope was nothing more than a spot of indigestion.

"I'm sorry," I say, taking back my passport, "but I don't know where he lives."

"Who are you staying with?"

"My dad."

"You don't know where your father lives?" He asked with an incredulous eye.

"No, it's my first time seeing him."

He seemed to accept this. "You have a phone number?"

"A mobile number if that helps."

"Go over there," he pointed, "free local calls. You call your father and he gives you the address. When you come back, you don't need to queue."

"Thanks." I say and shoot off.

The phones look like your typical payphones and I grab my notepad and pen in the preparation of taking down his address. Things were looking up, I'd be out of there soon. I flipped open my phone and after the song and dance of unlocking it and waiting for it to load, I check dad's number.

"6597....." I dial.

"Beep beep beep beep"

"6597......" I dial

"Beep beep beep beep"

Oh shit.

"65... pause... 6597"

"Ring ring. Ring ring."

YES! Score!

"Hello?" A female phone answered on the other side.

"Hello?" I replied, confused.



"... Hello?"

"Sorry, I've got the wrong number. Bye." And I hang up.

I dial again. I must've pressed a button wrong somewhere. The phone rings, and someone picks up.


You have got to be kidding me.

"Sorry, me again. Wrong number. Bye." And I hang up.

I phone that poor girl three more times before I realise something is wrong. I hang up with a confusedly sore head to turn around and see a flood of people heading down to immigration. Another flight had just been let in, so I gathered up some courage and asked a Singaporean family for help.

After gathering up some more courage, I asked a Singaporean family who spoke English for help. I showed them the number I was trying to dial and they laughed with merriment and told me to leave out the "65" seeing as it was the international area code. And I dialed...

"Hello?" A gruff, male voice answered.


"Joe? Is that you, where are you?"


He gives me his address and I'm finally out of there. Later that day I found the slip of paper I needed in a recess of my wallet. I have never felt more like a fool.

The hero returneth

Wednesday, January 11, 2006
I'm back.

I'm back like I said I would be. Sure, I didn't have the bulging muscles, Austrian accent or a gun over my shoulder, but I like to think that I made an effect.

I had fun. A lot of fun. An experience that I will only forget during the senile grip of old age.

Yet I'm immensely happy that I'm back.

Three weeks away was far too long. I started missing too much. I even welcomed the biting chill as I stepped out the door this morning, a warm feeling settling in my chest despite the cold. My friends had happy, smiling faces which immediately follwed hugs. Things were back to normal.

A smiling face, scented hair, soft skin. It almost made me think that the three weeks apart was worth it, just so I could realise what I was missing.