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Back With a Vengance

Right, I'm gonna do some admin first. I'm fucked. I'm really having trouble with coming up with content and making it funny, so for that I am truly sorry. So,instead of trying to do this weekly (because, if you haven't noticed thats quite hard), it'll be done when I have something worthwhile to say. That means this isn't gonna be regular but what I do post should be of better quality... (HAHAHAHAHAH!!! Don't take the piss). Anywho, I'm pissed.

The first thing thats got me royally fucked off is Star Wars. The last Jedi just came out and when I left the cinema I was hoping it really was the last fucking jedi. It was for all intents and purposes attrocious. Whoever reads this and likes it, that is their opinion and I won't argue with them. But to those who wanna have a go: you shove that foetid piece of cinema so far up your anus that I can see George Lucas down your throat. I don't want to spoil so...

*SPOILER ALERT*

The first thing that got me was the overacting. My lord! Everyone seemed like they belonged in the book of Mormon or Hamilton or something. It rather deducts from the tone of the film when two characters are trying to show how in love they are by finishing eachother's sentances, purely for the purpose of crowbarring in romance. Rogue One got it right. The characters didnt need romance just because the they were a boy and a girl (thats not homophobic, Star Wars just hasn't evolved that much yet). But at the end it was obvious there was a connection even in the mushroom cloud. Not romance but companionship. And that's something good.

On the subject of crowbarring... Fucking Yoda. They put in Yoda purely to make the wrong side of 40 fan boys erect. That pissed me off. He may have slightly aided the plot but,it was unneeded. Luke could have came to his own bloody conclusion, without the wisdom of the moldy bollock.

Half the plot was useless. The casino stuff, was an in universe waist of time. Everything that was done during that hour was pretty much unnecessary. It was there purely to futher the massively redundant romance.

The shitting float through space bit with Leia. What on God's green earth was that. It make sense from the point of lore with her heritage but the explosion should have smeared her across the deck of that ship. To be honest, I'd prefer if she were painting the walls just so I wouldn't have to witness that scene.

There was next to nothing new. It had the hyperdrive attack thing but that was about it. Themes that had already been done were reused. Even the whole 'i have shit with my parents'. That seems to be the driving force for star wars protagonists these days. And on that subject is the final nail in the coffin. The bit with millenium falcon at the end. Was a re-skin of the scene with the same ship in return of the jedi, even down to the diagonal beams. It was at that exact moment that I lost all faith. A friend told me that animators are lazy, and thats why but that is no excuse. Imagine an orphanage. One of the people there cooks something and leaves the oven on, the place burns and kids die. 'I'm lazy' is no excuse. In law if one has a duty and they omit doing it then they are commiting a crime. Here the animator had a duty to do something good and interesting when instead they chose 'lets make it pretty' which killed the film for me. This is star wars, where there are laser swords, psychic priests and tribal teady bears, so just doing the EXACT same thing is a nono.

There are a good couple other things I found horrendously wrong with this terrible piece of offal, but if I go on I'll be here all night.

*SPOILERS OVER*

So the other thing that pissed me off now. I was scrolling through facebook before, when I came across a page someone shared. They've obviously done it to show how infuriating it is and I see their point.

Simply called 'The Scoop', it's an American Conservative page that is a detestable perversion of journalism. It is exactly what it claims to oppose: fake fucking news. It supports Trump through a multitude of posts and from what I've witnessed, twists stories of anyone that does not share their view.

One such post litterally had the words 'the gay community just hates christians'. Go looking. I'm aware that this is exactly the kind of thing that these people do but this is the exact right context. They had 'evidence' to support this statement too. A video of a gay coffee shop owner refusing to serve a group of pro life christians. What they got wrong was that it is not in fact cause the owner hates christians but hates the fact these people would choose whether someone should bear a child for them. This is one of a mass of videos that monger both fear and hate and make me angry to my core. This isn't journalism. You tell all sides to the story and all perspectives. Yes, it could be seen the gay man is angry at the Christians for being just that. But might he not be one himself? Might he want women to have a hand in their own pregnancy? Or maybe he just had a bad day? The list goes on and on.

The point is that to bias the media in such a childish, backwards and underhanded manner is wrong. It creates distrust and has a hand in why everyone is so fucking scared. Do with this information as you see fit. Reject it, accept it. It's your choice. But please if you agree with me go debunk some arguments on that page or those like it. Piss off some cunts for me.

Cheerio

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So Tumblr won't let me post the whole thing, so this is just the chorus. To anyone whos heard me play, this is the only thing i can play throughout and to a remote degree of passable: I'll follow you into the dark - Death Cab For Cutie. (sorry ☺)

[im-not-that-angsty-blog]

Nope

Hi, fuck all has happened this week so while i come up with content for next week, this is all youre gonna get. I might post a video of me playing guitar, if I can be arsed. If not, a meme. Maybe both, I don't have all the answers. As a little update on my life, the university that i had the interview with last saturday came back with an unconditional offer and since then, thats become my first choice, which is great. But thats it. Ill level with you, doing this every week is nails. And like I've said, I'm a shut in so I don't do much. That, and I don't remember anything that I do during the week so yeah. Maybe i should write things down... Like a diary... Oh wait... I already do.

Cheerio

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Interviews

So I got told last week, what I write is tough to read cause its just a block of writing. So, if i can be arsed, Ill try to paragraph, but it's gonna be in post, cause otherwise it fucks with my flow.

So yeah this week, university has been at the top of the adgenda. Tommorrow I have an interview with my first choice and I'm fairly confident, cause I had one earlier this week and that went fairly well. As a result, I have an idea of how its probably gonna go down.

So on saturday, I woke up at 6 in the bastard morning to go to an interview with a university on the other side of the country. Got myself dressed and showered and stuff and then in the car for 2 hours. I was expecting an in and out kind of deal, yknow get there, 15 minute meeting, sod off home. But we got there like 2 hours early so i had to just sit in this building for a while and talk to people on the course. In all fairness the people were really nice and Lincoln (the city i went to for the interview) was so pretty. Anyway after a little while i took a tour of the course facilities and it was all really cool, like they had a radio studio and a newsroom with loads of top of the line equipment. So that was all good. Sorry im not that funny this week, im just posting cause i have to this time. Anywho, finally got around to interview time and gotta admit I'm a tad nervous. I walk in the room and strangely theres about 10 other people there. As it turns out the plan was to do this journalism workshop and then the interview. So, its starts off with the teacher dude saying write a story in 60 words or less about news thats recent: as in happened that day or yesterday. Now, reading this youll understand that i found that hard, cause i like to play with prose and ramble my balls off. Anyway i succeeded (10 words over the limit but tomato tomato) and then one person was sent into the radio booth to read all the stories out live on air. The funny thing was that when somebody's story was read out, youd see their necks recind into them like a fucking turtle. After that more or less the same thing happened but on tv, and this time i was doing the weather. After that we had this test that was just general knowledge and english skills, it was easy for the most part but there were some things that i didnt get, like who the fuck is George Cloony's wife, I couldn't give a monkey's. Anyway after that I got through the interview and the guy said himself he was impressed, so I'm hoping tommorrow goes as well. Either way wish me luck.

Cheerio

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Told you so

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Sad Little Tree

I wanna start this one off with a little anecdote. Today, I was in my English class and, right now, we're studying 21st century english which is stuff like text speak. We were looking through a couple of acronyms when i saw one and thought I'm gonna use that to start off my post, so BOCHICA: bend over, cause here it comes again. Thats right, ya boi is back, depressed and ready to post (cries for help on the inside). So, this week has been pretty good, actually. The first thing that comes to mind is, on thursday, I went to see one of my absolute favourite bands, Royal Blood. Me and one of my best mates got a train into Manchester and were so hyped, it might have looked like we were coked out of our heads, but we were ready. We rushed all the way to the arena, but made it nontheless. I'd donned my RB t-shirt for the occasion with a matching black beanie. It was set to be one hell of fucking night. Anyway, in our rush we didn't have a chance to eat so at the arena the smell of hotdogs and those triangle crisps (i can't remember their name, don't judge me) wafted over to us and by the noise our stomachs made, I thought they'd turned sentient and wished to overthrow us. It was like biology brexit. Resisting the urge for food ,we trod on, but not without a drink each. Finally, we entered the arena. We'd been the year before to see another favourite of ours, Biffy Clyro, and were standing for that (two rows from the front, it was bloody glorious), but on this night we had seated tickets (standing sold out really quickly, the greedy bastards) and so we waited for the first support act... For a CUNTING HOUR! Thats normally how long it takes but I'm gonna moan about it nontheless. This was only the first of two as well so it was a bit annoying. Anywho, they came on after a while, and they were pretty good, actually (Black Honey, go listen). They were like the Pretty Reckless crossed with Wolf Alice. They played a few and left after a while. So by this point I'm thinking OK maybe the next guys will be not too bad. Well, the Fat Controller laughed "you are wrong". This American group, At The Drive In, (at the fucking mental ward more like) came on, dressed head to toe in black and their parent's disappointment and began to spew a cacophany of utter shit from the stage. The singer looked like he was on every drug know to man by the way he was jumping up and down the stage and halfway through their set i realised that he bore an uncanny resemblance to Bob Ross if he was excesivly emo. I half expected to here him sing the words 'cut down my happy little tree'. The set lasted for what seemed like an age until they left and I could hear in my head the words 'Go on, off you fuck'. After a while the main event came on... And... They... Were... Brilliant. To give you an example, when they played Little Monster (probably my favourite song of their's) I head-banged so hard my beanie flew off backwards, as if the wall of sound had just went 'I'll be taking this'. It was utter beauty. The sad thing however, is that we only saw half of their set, because we had to get the last train out. All I can do is think, if At The Crack Den weren't there maybe we would've seen more, I don't know. Still, a good night was had by all and one day we're gonna go back, see the whole thing, and go to bed dreaming of Mike Kerr's supple hairle... (I promise, I mostly straight), ahem, sorry. Besides that, theres not much else to mention. Over the weekend, I helped a friend to film his coursework. That was quite funny because you can taste the angst radiating off of the script. I'm talking red fucking eyeliner. Don't get me wrong, it's a good idea and it was fun to make, plus I look like a wanker on camera so, yknow, theres now something more interesting to watch on TV than every single "Housewives" show combined *drops mic* good night, sweet prince.

Cheerio

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Stressed Out - 21 Pilots

Sorry for the crude joke, but i feel like a prostitute on her night: all dressed up and no one to blow. To help make sense of that, recently I've been stressing about loads of tiny insignificant niggles which shouldnt have added up and for some reason they all got to me. The first thing thats been screwing with my head is the film I'm making for my coursework. I've got dates now as well as actors and the script itself is solid, but recently theres been a bit of drama with a couple of the people in my cast. I'm not gonna mention the stuff because the... Subject is a bit taboo, but, and Ik this sounds pretty selfish, I'm just hoping it doesn't get in the way of the film. Both parties have said they're gonna be professional but it's just one of those things. Another thing was this bastard fucking test my English teacher gave out today. The time frame is so tiny, it's like your dick. In all fairness though, when doing an English lesson at 11th grade, year 11 level you need to do about 6 paragraphs in about an hour, right? Now triple the volume of paragraphs within the same time and take away half the analysis time. It resulted in getting done half of what i wanted and stressing me out to the limits of my psyche. Like I say, these are all minor things that shouldn't bug me but it's all built up and to be honest I've left out a few things, but I wanted to keep this one kinda short cause I'm struggling to motivate myself to write if you can't tell (I'm a bit shit). I'd like to write more tonight cause this has become a weekly vent for me, but I'm just not that interesting. Sorry.

Cheerio

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Winner, Winner, Duck Dinner

Right, simply consider that I’ll post on either Monday or Tuesday cause the title of this pissing blog says it all. But I digress, what did your favourite (Tumblr has just put a little red squiggly line under that cause it’s not the American spelling. It’s called English ‘cause we spawned the fucking language, you spell checking dick-licker) trash-mouth been up to this week? Well, lets start with boring stuff. Firstly, the monumental stress golem that is UCAS (the Uni people in England). The college I go to has an earlier deadline for sending UCAS applications than everywhere else, so that in theory their students get places first. The idea in of itself is sound, but the people in charge of sending the applications to UCAS are complete arse-wombles. I sent mine in about two weeks ago and it only got sent off today. Although my predicted grades are good and it is early, this tends to grate as I’m pretty sure my course is quite competitive, and it’s even worse for people with really competitive courses, like ones without lots of places, etc. I remember a conversation I had with a friend I had the other day where I said I’d send my tutor a picture of my arse saying ‘that gets more shit done than you!’. evidently, no nudity was necessary, but still it was a nice idea. I know people who sent their applications off earlier than me and nothing has happened, at all. It’s utter insanity. Anywho, I’ve recently finished the script to the script for my media coursework. The title is a work-in-progress but I’ve kind of settled on the idea of ‘Super-zeroes’ . Cringe-worthy isn’t it. But, god-awful titles aside, I, and the people I’ve relentlessly badgered to read it, believe it’s quite good (thinking about it now, that might be out of fear that I’ll made them read it again). There’s some clever humour, some not-so-clever humour, and the irresposible use of super-powers by a group of bored teenagers. It’s like Misfits if it were a sitcom. I want to start filming this week and hopefully it will live up to expectation. If it does, and if I can be bothered, I might post it. By now, you’re probably wondering on the strange title, so without further ado: Last Thursday, as I have previously mentioned, was my GF’s birthday so at the weekend we took a jaunt to this fancy restaurant in Liverpool. on the way we managed to get caught in what can only be described as powerful jets of god’s heavenly piss because the rain that night was sodding atrocious. we had to invest in an impromptu umbrella. After a while the rain calmed down, and continuing on our merry way, I spied a familiar face across the road. I turned to my Emily and said, ‘Is that Emilia?’. Without missing a beat, she turns around and says, ‘I don’t know’ before screaming ‘EMILIA!!!’ at the top of her lungs across the road. By chance, I was right (for once) and we had nice little chat with her and her new man, who seemed rather nice, and wandered on. When we finally got to the restaurant, we sat down and had a gander at the menu. We eventually decided and the food... was... heavenly. Oh my lord, I’m not sure what I’d choose, sex or food? (definitely food). I had this pan roasted duck breast that melted in your mouth. It had this orange sauce that just meshed with flavour so well, that I think the duck and sauce now hold the title of ‘cutest-couple’. My GF had this Burger that was just as good, simply insert the same description and take out the sauce. unfortunately I have no pics of the food but if I did I post it, like it and re-blog it my fucking self. I think that’s about it for this week. I do have more to write but then I already post overly long paragraphs so who gives a monkey’s?

Cheerio

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Feelings and stuff

Yo, peeps, the prodigal son has returned. I’m sorry I didn’t post last week. The crux of it is that I had literally fuck all to talk about so I took a week off. I actually posted yesterday (or tried to at least) and it was on the right day for once. The planets had aligned and I wrote a whole post and everything. But Tumblr, loath be upon it, crashed in the same bastard moment I pressed the post button, and a half hours worth of typing was instantly destroyed. But I digress, the post I tried to make last night wasn’t really that good so instead I’m gonna do something a little different. I was gonna do this next week but hopefully ill think of other stuff to write about. A little while ago, a couple people told me I’m not that good at communicating how I feel about things so as best I can, I’m gonna give a little insight into the mind that i call my own (depression warning). So if i were to describe myself in a positive way I’d struggle. I suppose I’d call myself loyal to a fault, hopelessly romantic and I’d say I’m good at picking people up when they’re down. To elaborate, if a friend asked me to do something, I would say I try my best to do that thing and if someone starts to pick on them then I’ll try my best to fight their corner. You’ve no doubt gathered from previous posts that I’m a bit of a softy when it come to my GF, and that’s no secret, and whenever someone comes to me with their problems, like if they’re struggling with stuff, if I’m able to cope myself of course, I’ll try my best to talk them down as it were. however, It wouldn’t be fitting if this blog didn’t complain about something, and this week that thing is me. Let’s start with the big one. I hate myself. Like, recently, I’ve just come to really dislike myself for no particular single reason and that really hasn’t been fun as anyone who’s been through the same sort of thing will know. God, i feel my depression crawling out from under it’s moss covered rock as I type this, just curiously raising it’s ugly, bewarted head in eager manner. I’ll try to cover as much of why as I can but there are probably other things that I’ve not thought of or that I simply can’t mention. Firstly, none of these things justify why I feel like this and that fact just serves to make me more angry. Like they’re all minor things that everyone gets every now and again, it’s just the way they all add up. I really don’t have a thick skin, Like, I’m really shit at taking jokes, and to be fair, I don’t think I’m that good at dishing them out either. I used to think I was genuinely funny but nowadays not so much. I hate that everything gets to me, and I will just dwell on it for hours. Also, I never think I’m good enough for anything. This one definitely isn’t justified but I never feel like I’m up to any challenge or worthy of anything and to be honest I’d say that’s my biggest flaw because I psyche myself out of things. Like the other day, I sent off my  application for University and I’m just wondering how many are gonna reject me, even though I’m predicted straight A’s. And that’s another thing, as much I am looking forward to University, I’m absolutely terrified by the prospect. It is one scary ass thing and It’s always getting one day closer. I recently feel like I’m just really annoying to everyone for absolutely no reason and that, genuinely, to use a bit of an outdated word, I’m a bit lame. Like I know some pretty cool people and I honestly don’t know why they’ve kept me around. So yeah, all in all, I really don’t have a high opinion of myself, but who does these days

Cheerios

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Shit Happens

Right, I need to set an alarm for writing, cause jesus, I'm like a fucking goldfish. So yeah, sorry, I keep doing this and I know I shouldn't but it just keeps happening. Legitimately, I was playing some Metal Gear Solid V last night and it gets to like 10 o'clock, and I'm like right ok another hour then I'll post... And then I fell asleep. Anywho, I'll be good in future. So my weekends been... Interesting. It started off on friday night, when I went round to my GF's house and spent the night which was pretty fun. It was just a chill night with a couple movies, yknow nothing major. But the next morning I left quite early to help my stepdad do a job. Now, normally I decline but this time, a worthy bounty was at stake (£60 to be precise). So that seemed like a pretty good offer, especially when all had to do was throw things in a skip. But i should have seen the truth rear its malignant, bulbous head early on because it seemed too good to be true. Anyway, I arrive looking like a toe with less fashion sense than your mum, and I get to work. At first, its just bits of wood and rubbish bags and I'm thinking ok I can do this and it honestly got cathartic after a while watching an old sink smash against bare metal. But all was not well. The homeowner, seeing the work I'd just done, must have grinned in sadistic glee for the task they had in mind for me next, cause it was evil let me tell you. So basically they had this big blue water barrel that had slowly filled with rain water, bits of tree and rubbish they had absent mindedly thrown in. It smelled like dogshit. I was like right ok, thats going in the skip, but all that water will make it too heavy. So, we get this power tool angle grinder thing and started to drain it. The water was absolutely stagnant and looked like liquid disease. After a while the water stopped flowing and so I though ok cool maybe I can lift it. But much to my dismay this was an exercise in futility and as such i had to start pulling stuff out of the barrel all of which looked like it was caked in human excrement. And so I this went on for an hour... I felt the undeniable, unbeleiveable dread. My hand, clad in rubber, felt... Wet. Fear mounting, I gazed into the abyss... A big fuck off hole between my fingers. All I could manage was a slow sigh of acceptance as I continued the work. After a while the barrel got light enough to move and so I call my stepdad to help me lift it. We do and I'v never felt so vindicated as when that barrel dropped into the skip. I promptly flipped the bird and left. Finally, theres been a bit of drama within my friend group at college. Personally, I'm not too fussed by it but other people are and, to be fair, rightly so. So a guy came over to our table last week and made a few... Unsavoury comments. Firstly he said I look like a douche. Granted, hes not far wrong, but he doesn't know me so yknow (plus, it takes one to know one you cheeky cunt). Then, he said my GF looks nice. Now I get that I shouldn't be narky about that (and I'm not) but dat ma gurl, so my dick-o'meter is bleeping. And last but not least he made a remark about splitting up a couple to get to the girl. The other two things he said weren't to bad but thats a bit far. And the girl is pretty pissed off about it. As a result, almost the entire table doesn't like him and we're all going to a halloween party, so I'm betting on drama to rival that of Coronation Street.

Cheerio

[im-not-that-angsty-blog]

Sine here for Self-Loathing

Hello, people with offically nothing left to do. I woke up this morning feeling the very noticable and welcome absence of the ever-present Sword of Damocles that hangs, oh-so-dickishly, above my head (you have no idea how long I've wanted to use that metaphor). I woke up today feeling, strangely enough, productive. This comes after the tests I got back last week which felt like i got double teamed and both the tests' names were 'Big Steve'. That got me pretty low because, my mother has instilled in me such a fear of getting below a C grade that whenever i do the cloud of depression that is my life tends to practically open its arms for a tender hug. That, in a strange way, brings me to another point. Lately, the self-loathing has been up and down so much that it's practically a fucking sine graph and I don't know why. I mean its nice having the break everynow and again but I'd prefer it picks one and sticks with it just to make things simple (thats obviously a joke but you see my point). Anyway things improved over the weekend because in the morning myself and a friend went out and chilled in Liverpool for a good couple hours, where i got a sexy, new pair of spray-on-tight jeans and managed to finally convince him to do warhammer with me. Right now, even i suspect he's reading the audio-book (haha welcome to hell, sucker). So after a pretty good saturday morning, I had a really good saturday night. My one other friend (I'm so alone) just turned 18 and had the subsequent party. A couple hours after my little excursion, I donned my sexy leg wear, gathered my GF and off we trotted on the noble quest to watch all of the people we know get paralytically, shitfaced drunk, and lo and behold, that exactly what happened. And a great night was had by all. I met some new people, listened to some shitty rap songs (which were each repeated three, cunting times respectively), and watched the most mesmerising visual experience in all my life. It was the advent of one guy I know teaching half the people at the party the full and unabridged steps to 5,6,7,8. All the while blackout ducking drunk (that was acctually a typo but funnier still for it so duck it, I'll let it slide). Whats more, is it was spot on. I've never seen someone so far gone and yet the dance was done to perfection. So all in all, it was a pretty good night (plus, (cringe time) I got to fall asleep next to the girl I love). Anyway, on Sunday after a very lazy morning I decided to get some work done. It should, by all rights, have taken me a total of two hours, but because whimsy thinks I'm a prick it took me from 3 o'clock until 11 at night. How the fuck does that work. 8 hours and litterally I had written 4 and 1/2 pages, 3 of which i did in the last half hour. If I never hear the word coursework again then, I think, I can die happy. But after all that ball-aching, progress had been achieved and here we are. That's rounded off quite nicely, hasn't it. So, with that, I think I'll leave it there, for this week. Hope you enjoyed (you're a right weirdo if you did though).

Cheerio

[im-not-that-angsty-blog]

Romance n' Shit

Hello, non-existant audience. From the title, you probably guessed this is gonna either make you cringe so hard that you gain temporary paralysis, or give you that warm fuzzy feeling (preferably the latter but i care not cause I've got love and stuff (the normal moaning will be back next week)). So, this weekend just gone, marked the 1 year milestone for me and my GF. Now, to anyone who doesn't know me personally, I may seem like a callous, angsty, whiney, little, bastard of a teenager when in fact I'm one of the cheesiest romantics that you'll ever meet. Like, I could give Romeo a run for his money (I can you're eyes rolling through the screen, motherfucker, stop it). So, as a result, this one is gonna be a little homage to her. About a year ago, I'd just started college and my first lesson of the day was law. I got to the class in all my designer gear from primark (if you're Brtish you'll get that one) and I sat down near the back. The class was full to burst and everyone was about as sociable as a lukewarm spoon at this point. Anywho, the teacher gets us to do this 'ice-breaker' so we get to know each other and I start talking to this guy next to me. However, the two girls on either side of us had noone to talk to, so after about 5 minutes the one next to me tapped me on the shoulder. The first thing I thought was wow shes pretty and holy crap she likes good music, I shall make her my wife. I will glaze over the fact that i then preceded to date a psycho (who could square up to pennywise) for 3 days, but thats cause I was emotionally constipated, but I digress. For the next month I slowly put on my best A-grade charm on and slowly worked up the balls to ask her out. Mercifully, she said yes and the rest is history. Granted, a lot has happened over the past year, including a the odd bicker, fantastic sex, a metric fuck-tonne and a half of movies (many of which re-watched), enough take-out to comatose a roided-out horse, a week in cornwall and no regrets. So skip to this weekend and half the things in that list appeared (none of the bad stuff though). We swapped gifts, both of which described by the recipients as 'perfect' (told you about the cringe). I'm not gonna list what they are because some way or another it'll sound as if I'm biased to one of them (I'm not but still (also this post is already long as it is)). Anyway I just wanted to make this post cause I know you're reading and ik you'll be smiling right now. I love you, Em, heres to loads more.

Cheerio

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I think my Alarm Clock is a Terminator...

Hello, imaginary audience. So, I'm gonna say this: most of my posts for the forseeable future are likely to be just boring updates on what i did over the week, as to be honest with you, I really don't do that much. Anyway, this week, a few minor things happened that could be fun to mention. For starters, I finished off learning two different guitar songs that i started probably a year ago. The funny thing is that they're both on different ends of the music spectrum. The first is 'I believe in a thing called love' by the darkness and is some good old glam rock. The second is death cab for cutie's 'I'll follow you into the dark' which is a beautiful indie melody that has the power to make anyone cry like a bitch. Both are brilliant songs and I'd recommend a listen to anyone who hasn't heard them and they look pretty cool to play as well. Im talking getting your pants ripped off mid song, levels of sexy. Also, I've made some serious progress in my media studies coursework. I've got a story ready for my film about superpowered millenials and I've made a start to my linked study. I know that this sounds about as appealing as drying paint but some of the stuff I've had to research would make you wish you were born a woman. For example, in the kick-ass comics there is a particularly graphic scene involving testicles and a pair of jump leads. When I first saw it, I cringed so hard, my balls recinded into my body (talk about nuts and volts, jesus). But because of all this, the worry has lessened ever so slightly and the whole mountain seems ever so slightly easier to climb. Not only this but this weekend I had a pretty perfect night in with my GF just watching movies and eating take out... Among other things... But i digress. It was pretty much just what I needed after all that stress. However, my posts would be incomplete without at least some form of a moan. So this morning, about 20 minutes before i was due to wake up, my playstation decides it's fuck-with-Alex o'clock. For some unfathomable reason, the sadistic machine decided to spew out the disk housed inside and then bleep repeatedly at me until I got out of bed and turned it off. I mean, don't get me wrong there are worse problems to have but to be deprived of sleep by a whimsical machine is a bit much. ESPECIALLY on a fucking monday. Its just proof the machines are gonna rise up and wipe us out, not with a bang, but with a lack of sleep.

Cheerio

[im-not-that-angsty-blog]

I got bored so this happened…

[im-not-that-angsty-blog]

Death Cometh as a Sneeze

Uuuurrrggggghhhh....

That is an accurate representation of how i feel right about now. So if you can't tell by the title, I'm sick. To anyone reading who knows me, get ready for whiney complaining for about a week or so. It feels like my nose is a leaky tap that's dribbling some lukewarm semen whilst my throat feels like Terry Crews has had his way with it. So all in all not great. But before, i became the bitch of pestilence and his horse i had a pretty good weekend. On friday night i went round to a friend's house and she had a party on. There were about 15 people there and i knew a fair few of them. So, i bet youre wondering how royally, shudderingly, shitfaced I got, am I right? Well not at all. I don't drink (fuck off i promose I'm not boring). I've never liked the taste of it and anyway im quite happy to do shit that the drunk man might do while i'm stone cold sober. For example, one song finished and dancing queen started and me and this guy who i'd spoke to like once suddenly turned and pointed at each other and started to belt it out at full pitch (quite frankly if you can't sing/yell ABBA what can you do?). So yeah, it was a good night and as it goes on, people slowly start to either sober up or get worse, to the point of vomitting on the floor (not fun). Anywho the next day, I went out with a friend to the trafford centre (a mall if you don't know) and just had a look round some shops in the morning and in the afternoon, got ready for party number two. It was a really great night. There was live music, good company and an actually enjoyable buffet (I KNOW RIGHT??!!). For most of it, we just spent our time dancing the night away to the beatles cover band, but when it was over it was a great night. After that nothing much else happened so i guess I'll leave it there. I know this week's post has been a bit boring but like i said, I feel like im stuck up satan's bespeckled arsehole (ill) so i'll try better next week.

Cheerio

[im-not-that-angsty-blog]

As Promised...

So hey, like I said, I didn’t post on Monday, so I decided to show you a little piece I wrote a while ago. I know there are some shit metaphors and other stuff that’s wrong, but it was on a whim and made of pure inspiration so indulge me. The story behind it is that someone close to my mum and stepdad died, and this one night they were really sad about it, so it inspired me... so without further ado:

Death

How peculiar a thing? We have never truly met, but I know you as one might know a brother. Normally, cadaver’s don’t scar, yet you leave wounds ever-lasting on every one of your victims. That is because the deceased are not the poor souls that for whom you knell the bell of despair. It is those that surround them. Those who might shower the would-be spirit with their love. If one did not know of you, then those who surround would likely be accused of folly. ‘Why love when that which is loved will be taken away in the inevitable call to yonder? Of course, for the remainder, we love all the longer, for we are the fools that are familiar with the pale rider. However, there is some light of hopeful idiocy in the ever growing gloom: It is that, although the end would be nigh, something will remain. It is a fragment of what would be a boulder. The God-fearing might know it as a spirit, a soul. The more secular of us would name it a memory. That tiny reminder of events long since done. For each of these, the fragment is different, like light through glass at a different angle. It could be a dance with a girl, the holding of a child or the last kiss of one’s love. For each, is a different meaning. Pain. Anger. Love. Safety. It does not matter. For that is the gift of death. Although the thing that was loved is now gone, he named Grim leaves a gift for us all. The gift of remembrance. And so I ask you, how peculiar a thing is death?

[im-not-that-angsty-blog]

It's Wednesday, my Dudes

Hello, invisible fanbase. I'm sorry this post is coming late, the blog just completely slipped my mind on monday, so I've done it now (well done me, captain mastermind). Anywho, this week I've been back at college and not much has changed other than the fact that I've made this year out to more of a demon than it acctually is. I mean, of course, it's gonna be hard but I thought it was gonna be this implacable, undefeatable, bastard of year. But funnily enough, the first week or so has been really chill and quite a laugh. And don't get me wrong, all the worry is still there, but now that I'm here, I feel like I'm in with a chance. I suppose it was fear of the unknown, but I'm back to feeling good. Not only that, but recently money stopped being as big of a problem as two simultaneous things sorted themselves out, one of which was cause of a really good friend (I know your reading, so thanks ginge). So if i think about it, I feel kinda sanguine (might just be the music im listening to though (the Front Bottoms, go listen)). Of course there is some minor drama, but when isn't there: My dad has an on and off relationship with this woman who's more or less family by now and they just finished again for about the 1000th fucking time. I love the man, but Jesus, he needs to make a decision or he's just gonna wind up hurt. That, however, I do believe that's the last of any bad news/worry/general bullshittery for this week and that's quite a nice notion (God I'm going soft). But, besides my (hopefully permanent) loss of sadness, this weekend I've got a couple nights out to go to with some friends and they seem like their gonna be fun, so next week I'll let you know how they go. To end on a high-note, and as an appology for being late posting, later, when I'm back from college, I'll post a little thing I wrote a while ago when someone my mum knew died (I think it's quite good, hopefully you think the same).

Cheerio