Sleepwalking my way through life: April 2006



It's wait and see all round

Sunday, April 30, 2006
Time for some truth telling. No more dodging about with cryptic messages and imagery (No matter how kick ass it was), time for some hard facts.

On Friday I was absolutely convinced that I would dump Marie. I know that we’re not technically going out, but I wanted to stop seeing her. I had been thinking about all the things that have happened between us over the past few weeks, and I realised that it wouldn't work out. We weren't meant for each other and it was time to accept that and move on. I was going to see her the next day (Yesterday) in Glasgow and I would have told her then, plain and simple. Giving her my reasons and ending it once and for all. I wanted to move on.

Yeah, fat chance of that happening.

I was so certain that I would leave her, I was even thinking of telling her that night on the phone and giving her stuff back the next day. But I didn’t. We got into a conversation about caravan sites and the difference between Milport and Dumfries, how one is good for kids, and the other isn’t. And, I don’t know, something changed. I was expecting a phone call that lead to another argument or insult trade off, but it wasn’t. It was nice.

The next day I was meeting her at one to walk around Glasgow and find a new phone for myself. I had to wait an hour in the blazing sun for the delayed train to arrive at the station, meaning I was a full forty-five minutes late in meeting Marie. I expected a bollocking when I saw her, but I didn’t get one.

We walked around Glasgow for a bit before buying ice cream and settling down in George Square, relaxing in the sun. We spent hours there, sitting – even lying – in the sun just talking. It was really nice.

Marie confessed to me that she was going to leave me today too. That she had been building up a rant in her head about me being late and breaking up with me. But she didn’t.

When I came off the train I headed over to our usual meeting place, but Marie had already walked over to the platform to meet me there. The fact that she had done this (even though it was originally to shout at me) made me smile. She didn’t shout at me because I smiled at her.

Things are still strange. We’re still together, yet not.

But I’m happy now.

………………………………………

On a more international note, news of the Nintendo Revolution being renamed to Nintendo Wii (pronounced ‘we’) has really taken the world by surprise. In my opinion, the name does not reflect well so far, reinforcing the idea that Nintendo is a kids company. But it was a fantastically good move of Nintendo.
By making the name so strange – even controversial? – they have generated a frenzy of free press. Thousands of websites and weblogs commented on the name change, making Nintendo the talk of the water cooler. This name change gives plenty of time for the gaming community to take the piss (Ha!) out of it in good time before E3 meaning that people will focus on the games and not the name of the system. A lesson Nintendo learned after revealing Wind Waker at E3 where people talked more about the Cel Shading than the gameplay.
All in all, a very good decision by Nintendo. My respect for them grows, as will my fondness for the name.

Only a couple of months until the new Zelda comes out too.

I can be a REAL writer!

Saturday, April 29, 2006
I spent a good hour doing nothing yesterday, if you could call it nothing.

Our Drama teacher had dragged us into class on our day off, making us trek to the other side of town in order to perfect our acting abilities. It was a fantastic day, the sun shining down through a clear blue sky, and the class spent most of the time outside bathing in the rays. We had taken a few chairs from inside, sitting in one big group where we all participated in an orgy of useless conversation.

I stood up and walked to the iron grating fence that was close by. The fence created a shadow over my face as I looked out on to the nice green field that lay beyond it. I didn't want to be in school that day; I would have much preferred to be doing anything else. But then again, sitting and talking with everyone was fun.

But I was still trapped. I could only stay where I was and sit in the unfulfilling conversation that jumped from films to parties to sex. I wanted out, out as fast as I could. I would be alone, but I would be free.

I walked back to the group and sat with them again, joining the conversation at the next opportune moment. I talked and laughed with them while stealing sneaky glances at the land that laid beyond the fence.

I knew what I had to do.

God, that is just some kick ass imagery. Don't you think?

Almost Sleepwalking

Friday, April 28, 2006
This post is brought to you in the early hours of the morning after my allnighter when the Blogger server is down, meaning that I was not able to post a blog about the events of the previous night/earlier that morning. Which fucking sucked.
Please excuse the bad writing. I was in a less than coherent state at the time.


Why the fuck isn’t blogger working?!?!

It is half past seven in the morning; I have a story to tell, and time to tell it in, and Blogger is down? Fucking kidding me! It is just bad timing I’m telling you.

I found myself propped up in my bed when I woke up this morning, my back resting against the head board and my legs stretching out in front of me as if I had been shot and had slumped down a wall. I opened my dark eyes to see the Lapdancer still resting on my legs, its warmth almost burning my thighs and its screen shining my essay diligently into my eyes. My alarm clock is proudly announcing that it’s twenty past seven in the morning, a full twenty minutes after I fell asleep.

It had been a hell of a night. I had sat down in front of my Lapdancer as soon as I arrived home from work. My fingers paced themselves as they typed out words or analytical goodness, a smirk on my face as I realised how easy this was going to be. A thousand or so words, a bit of rearranging and I’d be done.

Four hours later and I had barely made any headway. I put down the phone after a two hour conversation with Marie (to her mobile. I’m looking forward to the phone bill) and stared at the computer screen, trying my best to remember what I was going to write next. I then spent a further hour and a half staring at the screen, mindlessly hypnotised by the virus scan.

At round about three in the morning I opened my curtain a crack, just enough so the sky could peek out. I would occasionally glance up as I laboriously continued with my essay, watching the sky gradually turn from black to a deep blue, to a lighter blue, and finally to the wondrous grey of clouds. At seven I sat back with a sigh, if it wasn’t finished by now, then it wouldn’t be finished. I’d have to hand it in on the Monday.

And there I fell asleep, my head lolled against my headboard. Twenty minutes of peace.

When I woke I looked over to my bedside table, past the eleven empty mugs, and turned off my alarm. In my bleary half-asleep state I thought it would be funny if I got a new mug for every cup of coffee I drank. It was less funny than I imagined.

And so I sit here now, typing this for some reason or another, ready to head off to school at any moment and buy some caffeine pills. I wonder what the rest of the day will be like.



I’m going to get another cup of coffee first.

Watch this space...

Thursday, April 27, 2006
Work. Busy. No time for posts. Sleeping. LATE!

I'm sorry I haven't been posting lately. A combination of work, school, sleeping and well... All of them again times a hundred.

I'm actually calling a taxi right now so I'm not late for work. Good thing is that I have a long weekend ahead of me and quuite a few stories to tell. Stay tuned.

And thanks for all the comments. It's all nice of you guys.

Rewritten funny

Monday, April 24, 2006
The warm July sun is beating down on us, making me sweat slightly under the unusual heat. Jeff walks beside me unperturbed, her low cut top keeping her cool enough for comfort. Argyll street bustled around us, alive with a swarm of shoppers looking to buy a few more items before spontaneously combusting.

Jeff and I had been talking about my newly purchased CD player, but that conversation had run short and we had fell into silence. We were walking down to meet Maddy and Laura for lunch at MickeyD's and I had made us late.

"Joe, are you an ass man or a boob man?" Jeff suddenly asked, her face calm and serious.

"Ass all the way." I told her, not missing a beat.

"Then why do you keep staring at my chest?"

"I... It's..." I spluttered, trying to think of a good reply. "An ass man isn't bound to just looking at asses, and besides you've got tonnes of cleavage showing. A guy back there almost broke his neck."

She laughed. It was true though. A man tripped over his own feet as we walked out of Currys, he was looking at Jeff's chest so much that he almost toppled over.

"Also," I continued, "it's harder to see a woman's ass seeing as you need to look down further, your breasts are only a few inches south of eye level so it's much easier to see."

"I still don't see why your looking."

"They're just there! Don't get me wrong, I'm not perving on you or anything, it's just that... they're boobs! And they're right there!"

Well they were!

Nostalgia

Sunday, April 23, 2006
*spins in chair*

And only one makes it?

Saturday, April 22, 2006
"During ejaculation a mature healthy man can produce over fourty thousand sperm that swim into the womans vagina." The tv factually announces, showing a large group of sperm swim around in a delightful fashion.

I stand up from the couch and look at Mum.

"I think I have some homework that might need doing. Upstairs. At this very moment in time."

When I come downstairs an hour later the tv is showing an educationally vivid image of a baby crowning.

"Wow, I never realised how interesting this floor is! Hey Mum, isn't this floor interesting?"

Bad timing or what?

Coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee

Thursday, April 20, 2006
I'm pulling an all-nighter tonight. A proper one.

I was sitting in RE when Fitzpatrick came in with a furrowed brow and a question ready to be barked at me. He asked what he came to ask and hovered in the doorway, waiting for an answer. I was frozen in my seat, my cup of coffee still poised at my lips in the same position it had been when he started the question. I put the cup down on the table and answered;

"I told Ms Harte that I would have it in by Friday - tomorrow."

"She told me that you were going to give me it today."

"Well I would but I haven't made many changes since you last looked at it. I'll definitely have it in by tomorrow though. And if not then I'll email it to Ms Harte and she can forward it to you."

"No, we can't do that." He told me, leaning against the door post. "It has to be finished by Monday, that's when we're packaging it and sending it off. So if you hand it on on Saturday then we won't have a chance to look it over and correct anything for you. If you give it to us first thing on Friday morning then we can give you it in the afternoon and you'll have the whole weekend to complete it."

"So I need to hand it in tomorrow morning?"

"If you want it fully corrected, then yes."

"I've got a long night ahead of me don't I?" I said to no one in particular, sitting back hopelessly in my chair.

Over a thousand words plus an entire rearrangement. It is going to be a long night.

Let me get my textbooks...

After staying up until the wee hour of two am last night, I decided to stop writing my essay and get to bed with the definite statement of;

"The bitch can get it on monday."

My english teacher isn't really a bitch, she's a really nice person when it comes down to things, and she's not a half bad teacher. But I tend to over exggerate things when I'm tired and just spent the last four hours rewritting and essay that was due in for the next day because said teacher didn't mark the worksheet right meaning I wrote the completely wrong essay in the first place and therefore got mildly shouted at even though it was not my fault and hence was going to write this essay to make up for it.

But I'm over it now. After a broken five hour sleep and a mug and a half of coffee, I feel like I could take on the world (or at least a large moon of some description).

I am going to need all the energy I can get today. Today is my longest school day, meaning I'm in from beginning to end with only one break between classes; english first, with explanations of missing homework, lying about my 'almost finished' dissertation and being wrong again in another discussion about Tennessee William's The Glass Menagerie; Graphics is the next big class (I actually have RE after english, but I don't want to ruin the bitchy rant by mentioning something good), where I'll probably spend an hour stressing out and worrying how my folio is once again late, only to have the teacher declare with a hge smile that I "shouldn't worry! You could do it tomorrow!"; and finally Drama where I'll be reprimanded for not showing up the past few classes (I had graphics to finish off) and then being reprimanded for not handing in any essays for the whole year (Okay, my fault) before going off and acting out some lovy-dovy scene with Helen.

Oh, the joy of school.

Damn, I'm going to miss my bus.

Advice from strangers

Wednesday, April 19, 2006
This post was written in the early hours of yesterday, which is the reason why it isn't in the same mood as my previous post. I usually have a rule that doesn't let me submit posts when I my thoughts have changed, but I thought that this post is good, so I'll submit it.
...
Keep in mind that I haven't read it since the early hours of last night, so my rating of goodness may have been sleep induced. Like the time I thought it would be funny to have a shower at three in the morning. But that's another story...


I received the best advice I could ever receive not too long ago.

When Marie broke up with me over a month ago, people molly-coddled me; telling me that things will be alright, and that everything will work out eventually. I was given many condolences, many concerned looks and many offerings of help in the attempt to ease my pain. Almost all of which I shrugged aside, trying my best to bear my thoughts and fears alone, trying my very best to become that island that John Donne is so convinced I can’t be. Believe me, I appreciated the sentiment, but there was no one, bar me, that could do anything about the situation.

And then there was one who was different. He didn’t sympathise, he didn’t try and help me regain what I had lost, and he didn’t even know the full details. He just gave me cynicism that ran true in the world. He told me that it wouldn’t work out, that things our age usually don’t. He told me that it would get shit before it got better, but it would get better. Not the best it could be, but better.

But I ignored him. I could fix it if I tried, I could regain what I lost. I just needed to try. I know today that that was bullshit, I can’t get back what I have lost. All the happy memories that I yearned for were just that; memories.

I now know that I can aim for something higher, better than what I had. And I don’t need to try; I just need to… do.

But that is not the point. There is one thing that this mysterious stranger told me, and I still remember it to this day (mainly because I have it saved in an MSN conversation). It was just before I left him, and just before I thanked him for his help, he said this;

“Smile a bit Joe. Not giving a fuck doesn’t really help, just find the small things.”

That stuck with me. It reminded me of The Smile, a poem that Marie had shown me months before that. It has recently turned into one of my favourite poems, and I can always remember one significant line;

“But the one worth-while,
Is the one who will smile,
When everything goes dead wrong.”

It’s a good philosophy is it not?

[Insert Smiley Face]

So damn close

My second day back at school.

I'm sitting here in the library with CJ, trying to figure out our Ucas forms before we make a mistake and end up going to the wrong university. We were down in the lunch hall earlier, thinking about school and everything that we'll be leaving behind.

Two and a half weeks, and we're out of school. Then a further three weeks before we finish our exams. Then we're free.

Free? More like fucked.

"I'm going to miss all of it." she said, leaning back in her chair and looking hopelessly at her drama script. I had asked her what she would miss most about leaving school, expecting a short answer that resembled 'friends' or 'lunch times'. "I'm going to miss getting up in the morning and catching a bus. I'm going to miss going to classes, I'm going to miss lunch times and the greatness of hometimes. I'm going to miss seeing my friends every day."

I'm going to miss the chocolate doughnuts, I thought quietly to myself.

"You know that no matter how much we say we'll keep in touch, we're going to drift apart from everyone."

"Yeah," I replied. I finished off my can of coke and placed it thoughtfully on the desk*, "There will be some that we see every once in a while, but we won't be proper friends anymore. We'll make new friends."

CJ broke the thoughtful silence that followed. "Is there anyone that you'll be glad to say goodbye to?"

I sat and contemplated this question, running the faces of all of my friends through my head. "No." I replied honestly, "But I will miss some more than others. The ones that I talk about the most, I'll miss them. It's the ones I don't talk about that I want to forget."

She gave me her answer, which is context sensitive to this very publically displayed blog and cannot be displayed. Much to my protests of course.

It made me wonder though. How many people are going to move on to a new life and forget me, the goofy giant with once long hair? Or, even more pressing, how many people will move on disliking me, even hating me?

I wonder if in twenty years time, CJ will still remember me. Will I remember her?

Probably not. I have trouble remembering what I have for breakfast most days.


*How the hell can you place something thoughtfully?

Say hello to Dr Jekyll

Sunday, April 16, 2006
I've changed.

Over the past month, I have changed dramatically. I look in the mirror and I see a completely different person to the boy I was at the beginning of the school year. I call myself a boy because that's what I once was, but I don't think I am anymore.

I've changed, and it's all thanks to one person. Over the past month this person has forced me to see who I am, to stop looking at who I thought I was and to look good and hard at that mirror. I didn't like who I saw.

And so I changed. And now I like it.

So I just want to say thanks to that person. Your heart wrenching decision turned out some good after all.

Thanks.

I feel like this sometimes

"It's so hard to put feelings into words. I feel... I feel... I feel like

I don't think that all thoughts and feelings can be put into words. Words are harsh and extreme, and a lot of the time there is no word out there that describes what I want to say or do. People are always asking me, "what are you thinking about- you are so serious all of the time." A lot of the time though, I'm not serious, and I'm not thinking. I'm feeling. Or just taking it all in. The world is so big. It's impossible to describe it when we know so little about whats out there - or make assumptions about it that are completely wrong and then go flaunt the fact that we don't have a clue. I do that a lot.

I ask myself, wh-----------------------

I like to write. You dont have to add emotion- you can state the facts and people can imagine what you are feeling. Leave it up to the old noodle, thats what I say.

I need to take a nap.
"
-Lamb Chop

Hands Down 2

Saturday, April 15, 2006
Today has been a very good day. Almost.

It began with waking up at the ungodly hour of eight am. I know that eight am isn’t usually an ungodly hour, but when you consider that today is a Saturday then you see my meaning. I stumbled out of the house bleary eyed and bedraggled as I headed to the station to catch a train into Glasgow.

Why was I doing this? Why was I sacrificing much needed sleep in order to get into the city at such an early time? Well dear readers, I was having my haircut. That’s right, I have grown (Ha!) bored of my wonderfully long locks. Yes, I did look good with long hair; yes, I was unbelievably sexy; and yes, I did enjoy shaking the hair out of my eyes, but it was becoming too unmanageable. It would take up to an hour to straighten my freshly washed hair, and even then it would still resemble… Well, think of the Dulux Dog using conditioner then taking a spin in a tumble dryer.

So I decided to cut it off. Not all of it mind you, just enough to make me look different.

“Back so soon?” My hairdresser asked as soon as I walked through the front door.

“You just can’t keep me away.” I replied taking off my jacket and bag. She led me into the other room and sat me down.

“So you’re in for a little trim?”

“A big trim more like it. I’d like at least an inch and a half off. All round.” I finished, a definite twinkle in my eye. I had been planning this for a while, ever since I found myself taking a longing look at old photos.

Off to work she went. Washing, snipping, drying, straightening, snipping, styling, snipping. Halfway through the procedure I resembled a member of the Beatles, but it was soon fixed up and I walked out of that building with a smile on my face. My hair is shorter. Not as short as it once was, but short enough. To be honest, when I first looked in the reflection of a window, I wasn’t sure if I liked it.

But I think it’s growing on me (HA!).

After an hour of wandering around Glasgow I met up with Marie. She apologised for being slightly late, and after the customary hug she looked at me with her head cocked to one side.

“Did you get a haircut or something?”

We both laughed and she gave me my Easter present. She gave me a small Crème Egg Easter egg while her mum gave me a larger Cadbury’s Caramel egg. She also gave me a card and a visor in the shape of a purple elephant (to mimic the heffelumps that we oh-so love), all contained in a large bag with a cute Easter Bunny on it.

We walked up to the cinema and watched Ice Age 2 at the cinema-formally-known-as-the-UGC. Marie had seen it before and it turned out to be a half decent film. Though to be honest, I preferred the company much more than the film.

After the film we were going to head to TGI Fridays for an early dinner before Marie went to see her brother. We walked down the busy Buchannan Street and through the throng of people towards the restaurant when we spotted Maddy, Gary, Mark and Laurence.

Well, more accurately, they spotted us.

“JOE!?” Gary shouted, peering at me through his glasses in disbelief. I hadn’t seen Gary for ages, and he seemed different than normal. Probably just my imagination though.

“Why did you cut your hair?” Maddy asked, poking at it with her finger.

“I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while, so I though ‘why not?’”

“It looks nicer this way.”

Thumbs up all round I suppose. Marie commented on how I look “younger” with it. But she likes it anyway.

Two hours later and we had finished our lunch/dinner, Marie had polished off her barbeque ribs and I had wholly devoured my fajitas. We headed to the train station so I could go home and Marie could go see her brother. However, her brother lives in Giffnock, and Giffnock happens to be a stop along my train ride.

“Wow, your hands are cold.” I said, reaching over the table and grabbing Marie’s hand.

“Hmm?” She had been looking out the window in thought, watching the world pass by in a blur.

“Your hands, they’re freezing.” I told her.

“No they’re not, you’re just looking for an excuse to hold my hand.”

Ah, she knows me too well.

A few stops later and she was away, leaving me alone in my seat to contemplate my day and to ignore the girl across the aisle who was making it painfully obvious that she was checking me out.

I buried myself in the play I need to read for English, until I arrived at my stop. I pulled on my coat, slung my bag over my shoulder and began walking home. I was almost home when I realised that I didn’t have my Easter bag with me. I had left it on the fucking train, under the fucking seat where I had put it for safe keeping.

After many head slappings I slumped home, a writhing feeling in my gut at my own stupidity. How the fuck could I leave it on the fucking train? I even called up the station to see if someone handed in the bag, a small not of hope in my voice.

"Sorry, but if it's not of high value then it's not likely that it'll be handed in. It's more likely that someone has eaten it."

I hung up the phone, distraught.

I wasn't upset at the fact that I lost a bag with chocolate in it, it was the fact that I lost a bag that was such a nice gesture. It was so nice of Marie to give me an egg, and even nicer of her mum to gave me one too. It was such an amazing gesture and I went and fucked it up.

It's the only black mark on an otherwise fantastic day.

Happy Easter folks.

Truer words were never uttered

Friday, April 14, 2006
"Blogging is mental masturbation. You can either do it in the privacy of your room (albeit: pen and paper) or you can be kinky and wank off in public, where the thrill of other bloggers discovering your nasty habit is high.

Admit it, you want to be caught. It gives you a sense of exhilaration. You blog because you want the rest of the world to share the experience with you, otherwise you might as well just kill a few trees and start a diary instead.

But when you get caught, you cry bloody murder. Nobody forced you to post those pics. Nobody put a gun to your head and told you to write those words. You did it - all by yourself. You wanted to.

You practically sign away all your rights to privacy when you blog.
"
-Cowboy Caleb

Back in the habit

Wednesday, April 12, 2006
I’m just home from work and it’s almost ten o’clock.

I stepped out of the office waving the smoke of someone’s cigarette out of my face and contemplating the route I could take home. It would take me about twenty five minutes to walk from A to B down a long, mostly silent, road. I could wait and catch the bus, but I’d arrive home at the same time anyway and I could do with the exercise. Maybe I’d take a taxi, but I wasn’t feeling especially lazy and I had spent my last money on a can of Coke earlier that day.

So I began walking. I slipped on my headphones and chilled out to soundtrack of Garden State, a film with the most relaxing music score in existence. The road was usually practically empty at that time of night, hardly any cars going either way, but this night there were quite a few cars heading in the same direction as I was; driving in a long slow line like a funeral march. Occasionally I would be blinded by the guiding light of an oncoming vehicle, but most of the time my thoughts were uninterrupted.

And think I did. The mile and a half walk from work to home perfectly fits the specifications for a good think. It almost completely mirrors the walk to school that I used to embark on every day, a walk that I have sorely missed these past several months. I wander to school at a leisurely pace, letting my feet guide me as my mind was more occupied on matters that were more crucial; when could I do my homework, how much do I have for lunch, what could I do this weekend?

Now that I’m older I have slightly more pressing issues to attend to, like; when could I do my ever growing mountain of homework, how much money is left in my bank-account, what can I do with Marie this weekend? Very pressing issues.

So I walked and thought. My feet led themselves as my mind was busy sorting through thoughts and feelings that I had experienced over the past couple of weeks and the funeral march proceeded beside me. More than once I found myself gazing up at the dark sky, watching the shining moon as it travelled from cloud to cloud. It shone elegantly and simply, it’s almost blinding light creating a silvery aura in the darkness around it. There were also a few stars dotted around the clouds, demonstrating my insignificance in the universe. Even so, feeling small made me feel special.

I think I’m going to enjoy walking again.

I need an adreniline shot

You know you're tired when you type in blooger.com instead of blogger.com.

I started work on Monday. Yeah, I got the job, sorry for not saying. They called me up on the day of Less Than Jake, telling me the job was mine and I should show up the Monday after the next one. Two days ago, I mean.

We figured it out. I'm going to be getting £7.80 an hour for 25 hours of work a week. It comes to about £500 a month. Fuck yes. I can finally restock my account.

Thing is, it's as boring as hell. The computer systems have been down for the past few days so we haven't even started training. We've been told to shadow a few people, but that basically means sitting around and gabbing with the gals. Literally. I was bored out of my mind. But I suppose it is good money...

Sorry for the crap posting recently. My lack of luster is evident in my writing, which is shit, I know.

I'm just thinking about a lot of things these days. I have exams coming up, I have homework due, and I still have the whole Marie thing looming over me. No, I still haven't figured everything out yet. It's a bundle of laughs let me tell you.

Ha.

Long overdue

Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Time to fill in some gaps… I haven’t updated in a while, and I have almost two weeks to account for.

Prom night was amazing. I walked to Laura's house and changed into my kilt and met Emma and John in the living room, both of them dressed to the occasion. Soon enough Laura came downstairs and the ritual of parental pictures happened. In all honesty, we did look pretty amazing. The limo pulled up and everyone filed out, glamorous dresses and smart kilts lined up for one big picture.

The limo itself was gorgeous. A long seat that seats ten people sat opposite a bar filled with sparkling glasses and... well, pretty things. We talked and laughed and complemented each other on our outfits before all having a glass of champagne and toasting to a night that we hoped not to forget.

The hotel was so nice. The whole year gathered outside for a photograph before we shuffled into the dining hall, a huge room with tables dotted around a small wooden dance floor. After all three courses of food were polished off the band came on and within ten minutes everyone was moving and having fun. There were times when I would occasionally wander away from the main festivities and join the small group of people in the foyer. I’d sit on the couch with CJ and watch the world pass by. Greeting friends, complementing their attire, plastering our faces with big plastic smiles.

Yeah, it was fun.

……

The day after was terrible. Sixth years aren’t expected to come into school on the day after prom seeing as they would be too drunk or hungover from the previous night’s antics, I only saw three other sixth years in the Crush that morning. I had to come in to finish my Graphics Thematic Presentation that was due for that very same day. Over six hours, non-stop, was spent finishing off my folio. I drew five drawings, perfected seven computer images in AutoCAD and rendered two pictures on the pc. Six hours, non-fucking-stop.

I didn’t finish though. Although all the main areas were finished I still had to draw and print out the leaflet that advertises my object. I had asked another teacher earlier and he had told me that I could hand that in after the holidays, as long as I had everything else ready to be marked. So I packed my stuff up and went over to Mr Mulvey Jnr, the technical teacher who was supervising the many students finishing off their folio. I gave my stuff to him and explained my situation, that I had everything BUT the leaflet.

“I can’t accept this.” He said, holding my neat, trim folder by the corner.

“I know it’s not finished, but you said as long I has the bare minimum then it’s fine.” I spluttered in reply.

“I did, but I still can’t accept this. Only your teacher can accept it.” It was starting to bug me how he was holding it between his thumb and finger, like a shit-heavy dog-bag.

“Where’s he then?” Impatience ringing clear in my tone.

“I suppose he’s away home by now.” You have got to be kidding me. “It’s well after school hours, so he’ll be home.”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

“Thanks for all your help sir,” I said in a shaky, but genuine, voice “I’ll be going now.”

And I walked out of the building with the very powerful urge to sink to my knees and become overwhelmed with everything that was happening. Yet at the same time I wanted to stand tall, just to prove that bastard Mulvey wrong. I don’t know what he was wrong about, but I knew that standing tall would prove him wrong.

To be honest, I think that that was the first day that I first felt real stress. I hate it.

……

The day after that was the Less Than Jake concert. The band was very good, and I had a fun time for the most part. But I don’t think that the band was the highlight of that evening. I learned a lot about myself that night, things that have given me a small slice of clarity.

And I’ll leave you with that.

……

Let us skip ahead, shall we? The next couple of days were spent lurking around the house watching TV and basically vegetating. Nothing interesting happened until the following Thursday…

The Placebo concert. I spent the entire day with Marie, hanging about in her house and experiencing one aborted attempt to roller-skate round the park before we headed into Glasgow two hours before the concert started. She really liked Placebo and had been waiting to go to this show for over a month, squealing with excitement when it was mentioned, so we came in early to guarantee a spot at the barrier. Unfortunately there was already a queue when we got there.

So we waited for two hours in the freezing cold for the doors to open. Some of Marie’s old friends from school saw us and decided to sneakily slide into the queue behind us, so we had some company for most of the time. Hell, I got a Placebo condom out of it.

The concert was pretty amazing I’ll have to admit. We were right at the front, and it was a great experience. I got a few good videos and a ton of good photos. I had a lot of fun too, for once. After it finished we bought t-shirts and posters from the guys outside, at good prices too.

It was a lot of fun.

……

It’s the Saturday after now, the most recent Saturday. I jump on a train with Maddy and Jeff on a nice trip to Helensburgh where Steven is having a party. After an hour’s worth of train rides we get a lift from the train station to Steven’s house, which takes another forty-five minutes as we drove over mountains and round coasts.

I enjoyed myself mostly. I spent the night at Steven’s while people around me got more and more drunk and couples went off and coupled. I slept on the armchair and thought about everything that’s going on in my life. It was uncomfortable in more ways than one.

At least I finally got to see Battle Royal.

……

There we go, a crap update for the past couple of days. Hopefully I’ll be able to get more posts done more often. I know with my new job and study hours it’s going to be hard, but now that I’ve started using Word to type things up I can do it from anywhere. So I expect a few sleepless nights from now on.

I didn’t like not-blogging. It means I have to keep more things stored up inside, and if I can’t vent anything I end up being a jerk to people. Well, more of a titwank than a jerk, but it doesn’t matter now. The damage has been done.

Being cryptic again are we? Let’s try not to slip back into that.

Tricky Joe…

Success

Monday, April 10, 2006

Turns out it works, but with the increasing amount of bugs I'm seeing in this place I might just stick with FireFox, or maybe go with Opera. Even though the blogging feature with Flock is just pretty kick ass.

If you don't know what I'm on about, look it up.

I dunno, I'm just looking for some change right now, and chanign my internet browser seems to be the simplest choice...

Hmm.

Lab Rat

This is a random blog to test out the publishing capabilities of Flock.

Regular updates will (hopefully) resume sometime soon. I've just been procrastinating writing becuase I'm having to write things that have happened instead of things that I'm thinking. Meaning I actually have to write sense, which is hard.


Anyway, here goes. Linkage abounds.

Bigger Text.

Smaller Text.

Bold

Italian Style

I don't think I'll use anything else for writing. I barely use italics and boldness as it is.


First day of work tonight. I'm kinda crapping myself.

I've met an old friend...

Friday, April 07, 2006
Hello Jules

While I scratch my noodle...

Sunday, April 02, 2006
I want to fill everyone in on all the shenanigans that I've been... shenaniging for the past week, including the amazing night that consisted of the prom, the fucked up day that was graphics, and the weekend of mixed emotions.

But I am sick.

I have the dastardly man-cold. It's just like a normal cold, except worse 'cause I'm a man. So instead of typing out my adventures of the past week, I'm going to tell you to sit tight. I have a whole two weeks holiday ahead where I can procrastinate from homework and all that malarky.

So yeah, sit tight. But don't hold your breath for too long.