This blog.

I’m not sure about it.

It seems to have deviated from it being a place where I can rant, into somewhere I am dumping my blues and general misery…and I don’t know if I want that or not?

When I started it began with the aim of making accusations of fairytales, princesses and princes. Of giving me an outlet for my anger at the world. Now it has turned into part-journal, part-creative outlet and part-confessional.

The first two parts I am happy with, I enjoy doing the creative tasks I get as the ‘Post a day challenge’ and I have enjoyed writing some of my more humorous pieces.

Then I post things like yesterdays blog…and probably this one as well.

For those who have put up with me for the past year I can’t imagine it brings back great memories, they are remnants of a time when I wasn’t shiny at all. Yet part of me needs them, otherwise I drop back into the “I’m fine” routine. Then I post regurgitated depression.

I’ve already lied four times this week saying I’m fine.

Perhaps next time I should tell you what it is…but those who know me will have probably heard it before.

So what to do?

I’ve done a lot of thinking this week, and think I need a new start. A complete reset.

My life reset is not going to be easy, I don’t even know what I want it to be like. This is going to have to be a work in progress.

This blog however, I have an idea of what I want it to be. I want it to be different, I feel even its title needs to change.

That’s why I am going to reset it as well.

This is going to be the the penultimate post here…the next one will be to finally close this and move on. What that moving on is I have yet to decide. Part of me is thinking that I am blogging in the wrong way, I intended this to be for me yet I write like an attention whore…I check my hits more than I write my posts. Perhaps I need to separate the personal from my creative a bit more. Perhaps I should stop altogether.

In any case I think it might be best if I leave the really crappy feelings inside, and not advertise them. Afterall it’s not fun for others to read how depressed you are.

So, this is post 166 in a series of 167.

Have a good weekend.

What I've learnt this year

Image by sergis blog via Flickr

This year I’ve tried very hard not to learn anything because as the saying goes, I tend to learn the hard way.

All I’ve learnt is not to expect.

Expect the best.

Expect life to go my way.

Expect things to only get better.

The coursework for this has been hard, the exams difficult, and the ongoing assessment hard-going. They are lessons where I wish I could play truant but attendance seems to be compulsory.

A period of disappointment followed by double heartbreak, no free time before the next seminar begins. Detention, write “Must not hope, it has forsaken these lands” a hundred times.

Being a loser – A*

Must try harder.

 

Image via Wikipedia

Close your eyes. Count to ten. Then imagine a beautiful ancient castle (tastefully remodeled to include central heating, kick-ass wi-fi and WordPress.com ready laptops everywhere). Now walk down the endless main hall, a hall filled with amazing rooms of wonder. Go into the 2nd room on the right. What’s inside?

A library, full of the greatest books in history.

A copy of the Domesday book, original codexes by da Vinci, a Gutenberg bible.

The collection contains original first editions of Origin of the species, War and Peace and Harry Potters.

Illustrated manuscripts, esoteric writings and pamphlets.

A repository to rival the greatest libraries of the modern, and ancient, world.

The third room on the right is a broom cupboard…and what a broom cupboard it is.

Random extract

“He told her about the cactus-man’s notorious past as a pirate-merchant for Dreer Samher, and described to her the journeys Hedrigall had made to the monstrous island south of Gnurr Kett, to trade with the mosquito men.”

From The Scar by China Mieville.

The post a day challenge suggests I make up  a sentence to follow, but make it go in an entirely different direction that the actual book or website does.

Really, how do I do that with a book containing missing oil rigs, floating pirate cities, remade prisoners, mysterious pasts. If anyone else has read China Mieville you will know that nothing I write will be able to take it in a direction that would not be bettered by the author.

I’ll admit, I struggled with my first novel by him (The city and the city) but I seriously recommend anyone who likes fiction get a copy. Yes his does fall under fantasy but in reality his books should belong in the genre of ‘Ideas’.

Google some of his reviews.

Then go to Amazon and get ordering.

Reality – A Haiku

Princes being jerks,

Princesses flouncing around

Buttons stands alone.

My favourite pies

I really can’t be bothered to cook this evening.

The whole decision making process of what to eat is too much, and I really can’t be bothered to actually cook anything. As a result I am going to just bake the apple pie in my fridge, and if I can manage it open a tin of custard as well.

I don’t really like apple pie (and no this is NOT a metaphor) but I didn’t buy it…it was given to me and as they say “beggars can’t be choosers” (although is it just me but are beggars are getting pickier about what you give them).

Therefore I think this is a good opportunity to run down my list of top pies…as usual in no particular order.

On the nature of swearing (warning may be NSFW)

Image via Wikipedia

I’m feeling pretty rotten at the moment (I know why, and no…I’m not going to say) and as a result have got a little bit foul mouthed.

The weird part about it is, it doesn’t make me feel any better. Typing out a stream of profanities just doesn’t have the impact a vocalised invective has. A cuss word is nothing without context. Don’t get me wrong dropping a f-word in here and there shows that you aren’t exactly a ball of sunshine, but it also makes you sound like a cockney gangster from a Guy Ritchie film.

I don’t really like swearing. It’s a shortcut for getting your point across, why formulate an incisive insult when you can just call someone the c-bomb? Swearing is an admission of a lack of wit, and admission I seem to be making a lot recently.

I tried using made up swearing, dropping in fraks and felgercarbs. These only seem to have an effect when talking to fellow BSG geeks, on anyone else I may as well be saying Grakkalakkadingdong. Swearing only works when others get your meaning.

How else to vent though?

F-this and s-that are a way of making the grrrrrs make sense. You don’t see people on the street shouting at other mother-aaaaarrrrggghhhs do you? An obscenity carries with it some anger and rage, and as we all know energy cannot be created nor destroyed; only transformed.

Swearing is a transformation of my grrrrrr.

Why is swearing mostly about sex? The crude names for various genitalia seem to lose their tone if we used a more scientific approach. Who could get upset by being called a stupid vagina, or a penis sucker? How about if you didn’t give a faece?

These swear words are so abstract that it seems odd they have power? Yet they do, I think this is more to do with the noise they make rather than the actual meaning. They are guttural and violent sounds, hard K’s and T’s. You know when someone is saying it they mean it by the way these syllables are emphasised.

This is also the reason swearing in French is rubbish, it’s too lyrical. All the rage is taken away by the lilting cadences.

Perhaps thought it would be better for me? More relaxing.

Rather than being in this grakkalakkadingdonging mood.

Review of the day 13/03/2011

Happy Birthday littlest sister!!!

Mood: Sweary

Song: Lykke Li – Jerome

Just need to concentrate.

Oooh...shiny penny, sorry you were saying?

I am so easily distracted, I want to do so many things at once that I become crippled by inaction and end up doing nothing. I seem to be unable to implement plans.

I can plan, I make excellent plans. All actions and steps laid out. Milestones and key actions all plotted in detail. It’s just doing what I set out to do.

Without using innuendo, I need to be constantly stimulated. If I get bored or think what I am doing is pointless I will just stop doing it, again meaning I tend to not get a lot done. My life is a trail of fads and interests I’ve given up on, discarded as quickly as they have been taken up.

The same with friends.

Just looking around my front room is the ukulele, half built model house, shelf not put up, barely filled sketchbook and all the various bits of paperwork I need to sort out. My life is a collection of debris of my own laziness and inability to complete.

I need someone to stand behind me with a stick constantly prodding and pushing me forward, yet that won’t help…as I hate people standing over my shoulder nagging me to get things done.

Even writing this I’ve had to move away from my main computer otherwise I will end up playing something. I’ve turned the TV off and unplugged the Xbox, all that I have is music from my iTunes playing (although I seem to be listening to Christmas music at the moment) and the only reason is to drown out the stupid noisy brats playing outside (go play on the motorway).

I even had to turn of my router, the internet is only two icons away after all. I am switching off Facebook and MSN for a while as well, not because I’m always talking on there, just to stop myself looking to see if any wants to ignore me.

I was going to spend this weekend doing things, but once again have wasted the two days I get off. Now I’m going to spend the next five moaning that I have to do work.

So what I am going to do about it?

Well…

…

…

…nothing. It’s what I do.

Review of the day 12/03/2011

Mood: Pensive

Song: Bright Eyes – First day of my life

Links below the line