Ode to a Dentist

I currently have a dull-as-dead-dishwater essay hanging over my shoulders, and to make sure my Creativity doesn't get sucked out by this Dementor of Boredom.
So, this is actually something I've been meaning to post for a while. During my "6-Days-At-Home-For-Easter", I decided which kind of employment-scale person I pity the most. It isn't a bus-driver, it isn't a celebrity, it isn't that unemployed, homeless guy to whom I gave a Chewitt because I had nothing else.

I feel pity for the Dentist.
"The Dentist?!" You probably won't say. "The Dentist? The one who earns more than enough a week, drives a BMW and spends most of their life sat down? You've gone mad, Robert. Mad!"
(To any of those who properly know me, 'gone mad' is far too past-tense to describe me now)
But yes, I pity The Dentist. Sure, they may be fairly rich and have it quite easy; but that is just the tip of this Iceberg mint. The true nature of The Dentist is 7/8s below the water.
(Or mouthwash, depending on how allergic to puns you are)

But consider this: Firstly, The Dentist is feared. Think back, when you were a child - and maybe still, even now - did you fear The Dentist? Did you sit in school, the day of your appointment, dreading the twisted mass of bone and metal soon to come? Did you organise your next appointment 6months ahead and naively feel you had an eternity before the next torture? Did you sit in the waiting room, a jumble of nerves, trying to distract yourself with the funny-looking-toothbrush posters? 
If the answer to these is Yes, you and I shared a similar childhood.
The simple fact-of-the-matter is, The Dentist is right up there on the Childhood-Scares metre, nestling in nicely somewhere between "Cupboard Monsters" and that good old TV show Goosebumps.
(Yes, Goosebumps scared me as a kid. Remember the TV intro and that dog with the glowing yellow eyes? That alone would have me freaked for the rest of the evening.)
So yeah. The Dentist has to go to work everyday - possibly in a BMW - knowing that every time a child sits in the foldy chair, they are petrified. They're petrified of what's going to happen to their teeth, they're petrified of the man/woman behind the mask and all they've got to listen to is that constant "eeeeeeeeeeee" noise which NEVER stops in that sodding waiting room. Seriously, Dentists must build up a considerable tolerance to that high-pitched whine. I wouldn't be surprised if they experimented with a 'Dentist-Mating-Group', and evolution would soon lead to a Dentist which had the hearing skills of a bat.

Where was I? Oh right. The Dentist is rich, and feared. Much like Christopher Lee, I imagine. (Who once played a Dentist; the plot thickens)

My second Point of Pity: sure, they get to sit down all day, but all they have to look at is that SHOCKING white which accompanies any building with the word 'Surgery' on the sign, and people's mouths. Be honest, have you ever looked in your own mouth after brushing your teeth and been even remotely entertained?
If the answer's Yes, I would recommend a long holiday, maybe in a place with a lot of clubs and a distinct lack of mirrors.
Feared and bored. That's a dangerous combination; last time someone feared and bored walked into Gotham City, a lot of people died.
Are there Dentists in Batman's world?
...Sorry, tangent. We'll come back to that another day.

Yet another pointer: A Dentist's patients are, mostly, liars.
Be completely honest: Every day, once or twice, you'll brush your teeth. You might not put an awful lot of effort into it, you might even leave it til tomorrow morning.
Only once or twice a year will you properly clean your teeth: The Night before The Dentist Appointment. There'll be electric toothbrushes dragged out from forgotten Xmas presents, mouthwash, gargling, floss - the full shebang. Your teeth will be cleaned within an inch of their existence, and then portrayed proudly the day after like a dog at Crufts.
"Ah, I see you floss and use mouthwash often?" Says The Dentist, with your child cowering in the corner, desperately waiting for you to finish.
"Oh yes, every day," you "lie through your teeth", probably not very coherently.

I wonder if The Dentists know this happens. If they do, they must sit there thinking "Oh what is the point? I've got a liar, then a whimpering child afterwards, all the while looking at teeth."
Bus drivers probably don't uses buses.
Waiters probably eat their food with little serving as possible.
But can Dentists avoid bringing home with them? Walk in the door, drop your coat, smile at your kids and BOOM, Daddy's back in the office.
(If by now you do pity Dentists, now pity their children. No sweets, mouthwash at Halloween and the constant threat that if you break an ornament, you'll be getting an appointment 6months in advance)

There are probably jobs which deserve more pity. Grave diggers. Warehouse workers. The backing instrumentalists for Justin Bieber, etc.
But when I had my Dentist appointment and was lying, staring up at a Where's Wally poster on the ceiling, I had time to think. And when I have time to think, it normally ends up with me coming here to write random musings.
Maybe if I had been wearing my glasses, I'd have just tried to find Wally and gone home. But sometimes being partially blind leads to inspiration.
Although never tell a blind person this. I cannot imagine the foul look you'd get in return over your left shoulder.
Okay, we're getting bitchy now. Time to wrap this rant up. Pity the Dentist, be nice to the blind and sometimes forget your glasses. You never know what might come up.

by Robert Bull- "writer, Timelord, and anything that isn't boring"

Waiting: A balance of Pleasure and Pain

I once tackled 'Boredom' and enjoyed the hell out of it, and so with some inspiration from the same person who suggested boredom, I'm back with my view on "Anticipation".
[Alphabetical order just took a knock]

To me, Anticipation is - as my title so wonderfully suggests - an incredible mixture of both joy and disappointment. Take my current mindset: in two days, BioShock Infinite - a game I am insanely desperate to finally play - will finally hit the shelves.
But for every day leading up to it, I find myself perched on an uncomfortable fence, with positives on one side and negatives on the other.

In one way, Anticipation is actually quite fun. It's what makes the first 24 days of December exciting when you're a kid, car rides to theme parks became manic, even walking to the cinema to see a long-awaited film reaches an enjoyable level of tension. For some reason, there seems to be a small part of us that enjoys the wait. We know that something good is coming, but can't have it yet, oh no, not yet, no sir, not yet, just gotta build the tension, that's it, build the tension, want it more and more, want it want it want it, til it drives you mad, yes sir, madder than you've ever been, enough for an asylum, just too much desire, so much want, that's it, wanting so much...
[I think I need to stop reading so many Stephen King novels. Although I am devouring The Green Mile. SO good.]
Anyway, there's something about a wait. It teaches you patience - up to a point. It also makes you enjoy the thing you wait for even more special. If everything you ever wanted came to you the minute you desired it, you'd never learn appreciation and your life would be a sinking mass of books, films and games which don't mean QUITE as much to you as they could.
So yeah. Waiting can be good for you.
OR
Waiting's an absolute bitch. For the last 28 days or so, when I knew Infinite's release date was set in stone, I just ended up counting the days. Every morning I woke up and went "27 days", "26 days", "25 days". Then your mind does this amazing thing of pointing out "Well it's 24 days tomorrow".
Well that's great, Brain, but I've got an another agonising 24 hours before we deal with that little chestnut. And then 24 DAYS until a fanastic coconut of ecstasy. *ahem*
It may teach you appreciation and patience, Anticipation, but MY GOD it stretches it some days. Like the days when you might catch an advert for whatever it is on TV or someone in the background on the bus mentions it and you just want to clamp your ears shut and run off into a little time machine which will transport you to the 26th of March. [Or whatever]
It can make you grumpy, irritable or - a fact which my housemates have rapidly come to terms with - it will make most of your conversations focus on one particular subject. I feel I should have installed  a "BioShock Infinite-mention-swear-jar" at the beginning of March. I either would have kept my mouth shut or saved up enough to put Peter Kay's Comic Relief efforts to shame. [Oh snap!]

I think I preferred my Boredom discussion. But maybe that was because I didn't have one of the biggest moments in my gaming career just 39hours away from me. But still, we can draw a conclusion from my incessant ramblings:
Anticipation is another one of those rare occurrences which can lead to two completely opposite emotions colliding. There aren't many other mind-frames which can develop such a ridiculous paradox. Should anyone wade their way through my words long enough to reach this point and manage to come up with a decent suggestion, I'd be very open to a discussion.
And if not, I'm normally open to discussions anyway. Bring up BioShock Infinite and I'll talk at you until your ears self-combust.

*

The next part of this post is aimed directly at Future-Me, who will one day eventually return to his blog and re-read this. Any casual readers may stop now if they so wish or may stick around for this argument through time.

 

Hey. Future-Me. I know you're reading this. I know you've reached that Arrogant/Bored phase mixture where all you want to do is re-read your own words.

I also know that by now, you'll own BioShock Infinite and will have already played it. Hell, by now, you may have already completed it.

I just want you to know I hate you. You, with your "Ooh, look at me, I've lived longer than you and played more games than you. Ooh, I've already played a game which you've been waiting for, for such a long time. Nyeh-Nyeh!" I hate you. I hate anyone who's already played this game.

And I want you to know that when you and I finally meet, Future-Me, I promise I will punch you in your stupid, higher-aged face.

I can only hope I'm not too painful.

 

*



Thus concludes my Blog-post and my Rant-Through-the-Time-Vortex. Anyone who's stuck around long enough, I'm sorry you had to see that argument between the 'Me-s'.
Be very good to one another, and to anyone else hopelessly awaiting the third instalment in 2K's wonderful ensemble, just know this my friend: I feel for you. I really do.

Anticipation. You're far too confusing for me. I'm going back to Boredom.

Atlas Shrugged, and read something else

It's not often I do a book review on here, so I think it's about time to remedy that.
Our focus of today is Ayn Rand's 1957 American novel Atlas Shrugged. It follows the life and times of railroad owner Dagny Taggart, and her struggles against the rest of the world. She struggles because all the greatest minds and men in the business are slowly disappearing; leaving the world in turmoil and at the mercy of the "looters".
She also tries to answer the question asked in the first line of the book "Who is John Galt?" This is a mostly rhetorical question; used in answer to somebody asking an impossible question, for example:
"Why can nobody seem to come up with an easy explanation for the creation of the universe?"
"Who is John Galt?"
As she discovers, John Galt is the man who promised to stop the motor of the world, after deciding the general politics and ideologies of the world were insane; like people were only paid how they needed, not how much they earned. He also saw the the creators - the artistic, composers and thinkers - were supporting an ungrateful world on their shoulders. Galt wanted these "Atlas-es" to shrug the world off and walk away joyous men.
John Galt is also the man who supposedly found Atlantis - the legendary lost city - and sank his own boat to reach it. He's also the man who supposedly found the Fountain of Youth, and never returned when he realised he couldn't bring it back with him.
All-in-all, a pretty prolific bloke, worthy of the slang question that gets thrown about a lot until Dagny finally finds an answer to it in part 3.

That's it for the general plot line; I'm not going to spoil anything for two reasons. 1) I don't really like spoiling anything and 2) I took my own damn time reading it, so if you want to find out more, read it yourself.

Anyway, enough angry shouting at the reader. Atlas Shrugged is a rather clever political statement on Ayn Rand's part; she cleverly deals with the problem of objectivism and the flawed working world in general. All very controversial and clever and what-not.
But underlying allegories and metaphors never really interest me, mostly because I'm so damn useless at spotting them.
To me, Of Mice and Men is nothing more but a story about two unemployed blokes who get into a spot of bother on a farm. And a dog gets shot. Shows my literary knowledge in a nutshell.
So instead of sitting here, boring you to tears about Rand's extensive viewpoints and general attitude, I'm actually going to write about it from a contemporary viewpoint. How does a book written halfway through the 20th century stack up against books written in the 21st?

Well, for a start, Rand really likes to get her point across. As a Creative Writing student, we are always reminded to show-don't-tell, show-don't-tell, show-don't-tell - because it's boring and pointless. For those unaware, showing and telling in books goes like this:
- Telling: Fred dropped a glass and was sad about it because it meant he had to clean up the mess.
- Showing: The glass slipped from Fred's hand and smashed on the floor. With a weary sigh, he went to collect a dustpan and brush. With a thump, he dropped himself onto the floor and started sweeping.
(Okay, not my best work but you see the point)
The problem is, Rand is CONSTANTLY going for the 'Telling' style of writing. We are constantly being told what the character in question is doing, feeling, thinking, feeling-about-what-they're-thinking, what they're seeing, what they're imagining they're seeing...and on and on and on. I get the point, Rand! Dagny's railroad is failing so she feels sad about it and looks off into the distance In one line, I have summarised what it took you twenty lines to do.
It is an incredibly wordy book, exhaustively so. Something would happen, you'd turn a page and your peripherals would catch an explanation spanning across the two pages. I sigh, and just get on with it. And even if I didn't understand what had happened, she'd normally explain it all in the next chapter. Over about three pages. Joy.

Dialogue is a problem as well. When Rand wants a character to give an uplifting speech about how man does not have to be so restricted and confined, they won't just have a few paragraphs to themselves. In early chapters, some speeches would last around five pages. Now, after a lifetime of reading modern books, that was a challenge enough. Even Dumbledore doesn't want to talk for a full five pages without any interruption from another character.
But then, in the final part of this 1168-page-long essay, John Galt gets a speech over a hacked radio frequency to tell the world what's wrong with its leaders and therefore wrong with every person in the country. And how long would you expect this politic-bashing speech to last? 10 pages? 15? Stretch to 20? No.
60.
60 PAGES OF THE SAME PERSON TALKING CONTINUOUSLY.
I mean, my god. People back in 1957 must have been bored out of their skulls to want to read one character's voice for that long - with a fair amount of repetition I might add. Besides maybe Sherlock Holmes, and that too is very different compared to books of today, I have never read a character's speech for maybe more than a page. Two at the very maximum. You just get bored with what they have to say.
I got to about 10 pages in and was like "he's been speaking for 10 pages. 10!"
Now, I'm not one to cheat with books, I like to get through it properly. But I was at 1019 pages, my eyes were tired, I knew I was near the end of a challenge I'd been reading since JANUARY. So I had a quick flick forward. 1029, still talking. 1039, 1049, still going. Still going...up til 1069, where he finally shuts up, and the chapter ends.
And then, AND THEN, Rand basically summaries the entire 60-page ramble in the following chapter. Which, for once, was actually rather useful since I'd cut out about 50 pages. For a good reason, I'd say. No-one should talk for that long.

I suppose many of you at this point - if anyone's still here that is - are wondering why exactly I decided to read this monster, and carry on reading until the end once I'd found out its true worth. Well, my little followers, my answer are threefold:
1. I do love a challenge, and I have told myself that I would never stop reading a book that I meant to read. If someone gave me a random book and I didn't like it, I'd stop. But I wanted to read Atlas Shrugged, because of reason number 2.
2. The book inspired one of my favourite video games, BioShock. When I found that out, I just had to read the book that made such a great game. I also wanted to draw parallels between characters in the book to the game; as well as ideologies and stuff like that. Which I did, for a while - but after I started to get bored, I really was reading it for the sake of reasons 1 and 3.
3. I wanted to know who John Galt actually was. I do love a riddle, and I love a good quote/question. This was a simple four-word one which you could scrawl or say anywhere to confuse people. The answer I eventually got was worth it, I think. Just not worth his 60 PAGE RANT.
Sorry. I'll get over it at some point, I promise.

That's it really. I feel I could go on, but that would just bore both you and myself to be honest. But I can learn something from all this. I have learnt just how literature has progressed in just over fifty years, and from that, I can now use Atlas Shrugged as a kind of makeshift handbook on what to avoid when I'm writing.
Which is kind of stupid reason to hang onto a book that wasn't properly enjoyed for the right reasons, but I want something to show for my 1168 pages of effort.
And that's what I now have; a big doorstop and this blog. Sorry it's not better news, Rand.

Can the past be scarier than the future?

Seeing as I had a lot of fun writing the last post on here about boredom, I've got a new one.
This covers desensitisation.

For those unaware, desensitisation is quite simply what happens when things don't really scare you anymore. If you spend a lot of time playing war games or watching horror films, the time can come when real-life horrors on the news don't really affect you.
It's a sad problem that's growing in today's society. With loads of younger children getting their hands on high-age-rated games/films/graphic novels, they grow up into their world where a 'headshot' isn't disgusting, it's an extra 50 points to your team.

I am desensitised. And I can remember clearly when it happened; when my mind just went: "Okay, that's it. Nothing more can shock me."
It happened when a friend and I, ridiculously, decided to have a SAW film marathon. I was very grossed out watching the first, disturbed in the second, slightly miffed by the third and by the rest I could watch someones' head explode and find myself laughing. It is a horrible state of mind, and at the same time, a difficult one to escape.

But here's where my theory comes in; if you get into the desensitised mind frame, can something you saw before that still scare you?
For this, I need to create a time-tipping point, so let's place the moment where my innocent mind hit the eject-button as 'Point S'.
My theory has it that anything scary/gory/disturbing seen before Point S will, if watched again, still freak you out; and contrariwise, anything new seen after Point S won't scare you. 
Maybe this theory, like many others of mine, is complete rubbish. Maybe it's just simply to do with that wonderous thing: growing up. Or maybe it only works if you do watch every SAW film. But rubbish or not, I shall provide evidence.

Before 'Point S', I saw, among many other things, Pan's Labyrinth, Shaun of the Dead and Watchmen. And to this day, despite seeing so much blood and limbs on SAW, there are parts of those movies that make me cringe more than someone listening to Jimmy Carr's laugh.
- The 'leg-amputation scene in Pan's Labyrinth. The noise alone can set me off, but with the visual is just...
- Dave's death in Shaun of the Dead. He gets dragged out a window and literally ripped apart by zombies while he, and everyone else, watches
- Rorschach's cleaver skills in dealing with a paedophile in Watchmen. Meat-cleaver-to-the-brain death is quite something to behold.

So these pre-Point S moments can get me on edge, but everything I've seen since then has no effect. Gory deaths in BioShock. LOADS of gory deaths in Kill Bill, plus the "Eye-Stamp" moment. The Joker's "Pencil Magic Trick" in The Dark Knight - which may sound odd to those without context.
It's an oddly interesting consideration. It came to me last night whilst watching Pan's Labyrinth, having cringed at the leg scene. Yet I watched Kill Bill volume 1 earlier in the day and laughed. Far, far, FAR too often.

Maybe it's SAW's fault. Those films are an intense thing to experience, especially all at once. Maybe if I'd gotten desensitised a different way or watched them anyway but at a slower rate, maybe now I could watch horror films and appreciate the scare tactics. Or maybe I need to watch something truly horrific to snap my mind into action and say "Come on now; some of this is unacceptable. Make me care."
Antichrist did a fairly good job at doing so *shudders*. Plus I've heard plenty of horror stories about The Human Centipede films and A Serbian Film. Loads of infamous rumours and hushed stories about them. Maybe it'll take something as dark and awful as that to bring a bit of sanity and compassion back into my life. God help me to get into this kind of situation.

Anyway, just some other ramblings of mine for you to consider. Do you feel things that used to scare you still do - and new, similar things don't somehow? Do you feel desensitised, and why?
And lastly, try and think of the one thing that truly terrifies you. Truly puts the fear of a thousand into you.
Got it?
Great. There's no reasoning behind this, I just wanted you to end on something scary - which you introduced yourself.
Peace out!

Dull, Deep, Dark and Dangerous: Boredom

Why is boredom terrifying?

Not a question that comes up frequently, but just think. Think about what boredom actually does.
From experience, boredom changes people. Not for the better either; no, boredom makes people bad. It makes people angry, grumpy and intolerable.
It makes people desperate.
And desperation is, in itself, a terrifying mind process. Desperation leads to crime, it leads to war, it leads to murder.
Now obviously, I'm not saying that sitting still in an exam room for two and a half hours is going to make someone a murderer. But it is going to change them.

Think back on all the different ways to reach Boredom; a wet Sunday, waiting for a bus, an exam, a long car drive etc. What was the main part of being in the Boredom Phase?
It wasn't tapping your fingers on your knees.
It wasn't staring out of the window.
It wasn't tapping your feet.

It was the pure desire for the boredom to end; the overwheling want. For you to reach your destination; for the bus to arrive; for the exam to end.
It changes you.

Firstly, it will play with your emotions. Makes you angry. It makes you agitated and restless.
[It also makes you annoying - who else hates foot-tappers and quiet-hummers in exams?]
No-one has ever been happy whilst bored, the two states of mind are not synonymous. Boredom only changes humans for the worst; it makes us intolerable.
I hate being around bored people because they don't talk properly, they often swear increasingly frequently, and personally, I dislike being around grumpy people anyway.

Secondly, it plays with your mind. Once Boredom has its fingernails deep in your emotions, it'll let your mind wander. It'll allow it into a realm which psychologists would deem wrong.
Boredom darkens the mind.
If bored on a long car journey, you want it to be over - so you want the driver to go faster. There's no thought about whose lives are in danger by doing so, you just want it to end.
The same for waiting for a bus - the bus must go faster to reach you; skipping traffic lights and zebra crossings. The boredom must end.
And what student hasn't wished for a fire-drill [or an actual fire] to halt an exam?

Boredom is actually a deep, dark and twisted subject matter to study. Yet it seems, on the face of it, that most people don't consider looking at boredom. Why?
Because it's boring
Ironic isn't it?
Even thinking about Boredom is boring; thus we don't.
And with our emotions and thoughts ever changing so, it seems that as a race, we want to avoid Boredom as much as possible.
Don't believe me?
Television, Radio, Video Games, Books, Magazines, Board Games, Word Puzzles, Drawing....the Internet - all of these things are unnecessary entities. So why do they exist?
Recreation. Pass-times. Hobbies. Fun.
And what's Fun's greatest and opposite enemy?
Boredom.

So let's move into the really deep and scientific stuff. With all this in mind, is boredom something we are bred or developed to loathe? Be honest, if you know a boring event is coming up, you won't exactly be filled with optimism and enthusiasm.
But why is this?
Boredom in itself doesn't hurt anyone. It just exists as a void between two happenings - the line between A and B. Yet everyone seems to despise this line; children especially.
Hence, I ask why, and would actually love a theory.
Is it because we begin life with nine months in a small space doing absolutely nothing and we'd like to make up for it?
Did evolution (or God for a kind of balanced argument) land us with ridiculously short attention spans?
It is just another kind of basic, underlying fear? The fear of nothingness, stretching out into infinity and offering nothing but isolation?

[I did warn you it was deep]

So that's my case. This random thought came up in an equally random conversation with a close friend of mine; but like so many of these inspirations, that little idea can be focused on and developed.
And to be honest, after a lot of thought, I don't have an answer to the question "is boredom terrifying". If someone could provide one, or just an in-depth discussion about this topic, I'd be greatly interested and grateful.
Keep your brains working, and we end on a final note from the 2010 Christmas episode of Doctor Who: A Christmas Carol. The Doctor, thinking aloud, ponders:
"How did boredom ever get invented?"

Peace out.

I'm one more grumble away from Werther's Originals and Midsummer Murders

I feel I've been rather unfair in my title, come to think of it. I actually enjoy Werther's Originals. Midsummer Murders, however, you can drop down a well along with a lit match and some bottles of sherry.
May want to stand back first.

Anyway, I'm now going to complain about something which seems to suddenly smack people our age in the face like a wrinkled haddock.
Age.
It's simple really: we teens just don't want to grow up. We're currently at that, frankly, blissful part of life where you can leave home to party and go to university, but can always return home if things go tits up. We can sleep until the latter part of the day and argue that pjs really are the upcoming fashion. Our attention span is outweighed by our alcohol intake and if you can balance University work with gaming, you're perfect.

So yeah. That's life for us students. Who wouldn't want to stay like that forever?
But constantly, we are dragged back into that pit hopelessly named The Real World with little reminders of what's in store.
Working, for example. Don't worry, I know I've already bitched to high-heaven this year about employment, so I won't repeat myself. But putting a laid-back student into a working environment is not unlike putting a cat in a Pet-Carrier. We just don't want it.
Right, jobs. They're the little reminders of what life's actually about? 
But you wanna know what's really getting me down? Things that used to be fun.

Birthdays, for example. I'm not joking, my 19th birthday was SO depressing. Nothing happened. Or, at least, next to nothing happened. I woke up. I got dressed. I got a few gifts; mostly because I could no longer form any thoughts as to what I wanted as a gift
[Plus, as much as it pains me to say it, I already had bought a load of stuff with money from my....sigh....job]
But that was it. I remember thinking "Well, one year older."
Yup. Birthday - tick. One of the lowest days of my life, because I realised in that moment that all the fun ages were over (and don't give the same bullshite about turning 21 - we're not American, we can already do everything) and from this point on, going one age up was going to change from 'fun' to 'time consuming'.

Then Christmas. Now I've already had a rather low Christmas - last year's one. I woke up at 11am, rolled over and thought "there is not one single iota of excitement or happiness in me right now". So guess what? I went back to sleep.
To be fair, I got absolutely none of the exiting Christmas build up last year. In Halls, we had no decorations what-so-ever, or any radio to stick on Christmas Carols in the morning. No tree. No excitement or buzz in the air. Just 8 teen students living in dank conditions.
[Bitch bitch bitch, I know!]
This year's been a bit better in actual housing. We have a tree, which we put up ourselves. There's presents under it, I've got coloured lights in my bedroom, we made stockings, paper-chains...
And still, if more than three adverts on TV say "Christmas!" in a row, I just get grumpy. I'm such a Scrooge now. Even advents calendars are falling into disuse. I didn't get one at Uni last year, but I did when I got home. So I sat, playing my PS3, eating 16 little squares of Milkybar Chocolate to myself
(On a weird side note: anyone else noticed advent calendars getting stingy and cheaper on the chocolate? Thank you, Jamie Oliver!)
But what's really sad is I didn't even want all 16 at the time, so left them. And then forgot until about the 23, so ate another load of them to myself in a go. If this isn't aging gracelessly, I dunno what is.
Plus tradition changes this year - rather than Christmas at home, it's Christmas at my sister's in Plymouth. Which I don't really mind, I'm actually impressed that she's taken on such a huge task. But even then...it's just not the same is it?

We're all aging. Everything's changing. From what I can see, not for the better.
And in those two, godawful words which I blogged about recently:
"That's life!"

Life? Don't talk to me about life

With a depressed 19-year birthday passed and an unexciting Christmas coming up, it's pretty safe to assume that a) I'm growing up and b) like so many people may age, I hate it. And whether anyone ever reads this or not, I'm gonna have my bitchy five minutes about it all.
Get ready for a rant.

It seems that in our daily routines, spanning from anywhere between 18years to 120, we really do exist in ridiculous Catch-22s. And it also seems that should you ever point this fact out to anyone, they just say "That's life!"
And for over 19years, I have heard that phrase over and over again, just accepting it. But not anymore. It's finally time to learn what life actually is.

To live a balanced life, you need:
Money
Health
Hygiene
Shelter
Companionship/Family
Employment
Education

In no particular order, you understand. Although in this ever suffering society, it seems that without money, things fall apart.
Anyway, these things, add probably a few others which have escaped me, all need to be balanced and included. And it's absolutely fucking stupid.

IF you manage to get through 18+ years of education, you then need to get a job so you can sustain yourself and get through life. If not, you'll end up on the dole with no self-respect and other tax-paying civilians loathing you. Or dead, which seems like a more appealing offer.

So at long last, you find a job. Great. Now you need somewhere to live. But don't take time off work to find one, or you'll go back to square one.
Now you've got somewhere to live? Is it in a nice place? Is it in an acceptable condition? Are the neighbours twats? etc etc etc. Don't forget gas, water, electricity, Internet, heating, lighting, phones, furniture, food, commodities and little pleasures - IF you can still afford any. If you're also trying to raise a family along with everything else, good luck to you.

By now, education, employment, money and shelter have already come into it all. You might not even be out of your teen years yet. Now let's move into health and hygiene.
Get a shower once a day and brush your teeth twice a day - if you have enough time before and after work.
Make sure you get at least 30minutes of exercise per day - if you have the time/equipment/whatever else. And make sure you don't exercise TOO hard, or it'll require time and money for a doctor.
Eat at least five pieces of fruit or vegetables a day. But watch out, some fruit can often erode your teeth - so be ready to make time and pay for a trip for the dentist.
[Also be ready to protect your eyes, your ears, your nose, your hands, feet, arms, legs and basically everything else. Any one of these things fails and you're in trouble. Better hope you have money to pay for it too. Not easy if loss of limb gets you off work]


How's life going for you so far? If doctors, dentists, contractors, decorators, gardeners, dole-office-users, electricians, call-centres, bankers, opticians, chiropractors, gym-assistants, cleaners, teachers, kids and employers haven't got you down yet, you'll be just thrilled to know that it's all for jack-shit. Even if you're famous, there will eventually come a day when you will be entirely forgotten. You know it's true. Not forgetting either that the world will end someday - through our intervention or nature's. So why make the crap parts of life so damn important when eventually we'll just all be whiffs of carbon, oxygen and hydrogen all over again. My advice: have all the fun you can while you can. Nothing's forever.
We are just tiny, stupid, inconsiderate and unimportant creatures, stuck on a dying earth, endlessly shuffling around a dull, dismal, daily grind which seems to acquire nothing but debts, complaints, and an overall sense of emptiness. And if you ever find yourself saying this to someone else, they'll just pat your shoulder, look you in the eye and say "That's life".

With that reckoning, we'd all better hope the afterlife has something better. Or something different at least. Cos let's be honest, it's Hell around here already.

Hang on, let the past catch up

You know those blissful moments when your mind wanders off its little beaten path and jumps into a pile of leaves; which can be ridiculous, inspirational or funny - or maybe a mad hybrid of all three? Well, I just had another inspirational one, so its time to use it and update my blog. Because it is getting rather ridiculous in itself - I swear its been so long since my last post, little cyber cobwebs are popping up everywhere.

Anyway, onto my latest point. This one: a personal philosophy.
My childhood is trying to catch up with me.

Now, I wasn't exactly a spoilt child, but similarly, I wasn't a neglected child. My family got a PlayStation 1 pretty early on, my Mother used to swear blind I was going to drown in LEGO, and at every point of time, there would be at least one epic fight going on in my room; Cubix vs. Optimus Prime, Giant Skeleton vs. a Cyberman etc. All-in-all, my childhood was the imagination and madness-stuffed colour explosion it should have been.
But there were always little things that I wanted but never got - "That's life", I seem to remember being told.

Yet now, I'm 19. I'm a nerd, I'm immensely childish most of the time and I've got what not many children never had - money. Not pocket money; not a quid your uncle gave you every time he felt like it/was drunk. Actual, strong money amounts that you earned by honestly working. [Although you'll never admit it to anyone older than yourself. So. Much. Gloating].
Plus, I am absolutely rubbish at saving money. If I see a DVD/game/book/t-shirt/classic artifact that I want, I'll [most of the time] get it and try and deal with the money-less-ness later.
So when I've got money from working and student loan behind me, and a paraphernalia-loving nature, I'm gonna go a little nuts. So yes, I do have a Mr Potato Head in my room, with a mini-slinky friend. I do have all 6 Star Wars films. I do have a small army of mini [fake]LEGO Daleks having a conference on my bookshelf.
And why?
Because I didn't have this stuff when I was an actual kid.
Because I am, in a fair few ways, still a kid.
Because I can afford to do it all, now anyway.

Maybe it really is just my childhood catching up with me. It still isn't over, not while I haven't got everything I wanted when I was a child.
So I'll keep searching, trying to find what I lost and didn't have.
Maybe then I'll grow up.

Not so easy, when considering just how much I did lose as a kid.
But that won't stop me from trying.
Peace out.  

If only ELO were still around...

Mr Grey Sky

Sun ain’t shining in the sky,

So many clouds in sight,
Won’t stop raining, nobody’s in the play,
Just so you know
It’s a typically wet day, hey, hey

Flooding down the avenue,

See how the rain falls quickly,
On the streets, they now are slippery,
Mister blue sky ignoring us today, hey, hey

Mr British sky, please tell us why,

You have to stay grey for so long,
Where did we go wrong? (x2)

Hey you with the soaking smile,

Welcome to the British Isles!
A realisation, Mr Blue sky’s resignation,
And today is a day we tried to avoid!

Mr British sky, please tell us why,

You have to stay grey for so long,
Where did we go wrong?
 
Hey there, Mr Grey,
Why can’t you just go away?
Look around, see what you do,
Everybody hating you. (x2)

Mr Grey sky

Mr Grey sky
Mr Grey sky

Mr Grey, winter’s alright
But we need summer light
You had your time, give us sun in its prime
Never mind
We’ll hate you in this
We’ll hate you in this way
 
Mr British sky, please tell us why,
You have to stay grey for so long,
Where did we go wrong?

Goodbye, Mister Blue

Were so pleased to be with you
Loved all you used to do,
Everybody misses you

Oops! Retraction necessary

This may well be my second shortest blog-post ever. [See Life Advice]
Since posting my 'Job-searching' post, an agency contacted me saying they had found me part time work in various warehouses.
I even have a five day work next week.
So yeah, never mind! Just ignore the last post. Read something else. I recommend anything by Neil Gaiman =]
Peace out!