The breach? meh

Hi guys, hows it going? kids still good? thats great.

Pleasantries have never been my strong point. Cut me some slack, huh? man, I said hello...

It is apparent that everyone is working their fingers to the bone at their decided projects, giving it their all in subjects they hope will get them into university, which, in turn will devise their entire future, completly dictating their lives in terms of income, family prospects and future relations with just about everything.

Daunting, would be my word of choice.

Regardless of my slacking nature, I have resolved to follow the same trend as everyone else, whist not working to the bone, I am certainly working to at least the cartilage. Now that stuff is tough. The work ethic has been obviously stopped at every step of the way, with distractions of driving, the internet, and just plain laziness. Even what im writing now is a complete distraction. Its unnecessary, well, more ununnecessary, given its possible application to my future.

I kinda think of myself as a fan service guy. I dont want to remind everyone of their work by saying "oh holy balls, works in tommorow, lol nothing" and stuff like that, so instead I am writing an extended essay in which the said excalmation of worry is gently implied.

Now if youre not worried now, you're clearly an inhuman monster.

Or not. Sorry. May my apolgy mean i never did it. and of course saying i never said anything, means that none of this ever happened. Look guys, Its hate week this week, and I increased the chocolate ration to 20 grams a week! Throw me a bone!

World War 'Works

Apologies for the wheadon-esque header, I needed alliteration, but the introduction of "fire" stopped me. Thats actually how most of the failures in my life have come about, (Thats right Luke, shift the blame). The decending holiday of fireworks day hails us thusly, bringing us light and deafness all through the night. It so happens that the exposions are happening days before theyre supposed to, but one cannot refuse the largest human desire. That of explosives. Love has a new rival, and it is partially constucted from both paper and gunpowder.

As I write, the booms break my spirit. like a lowly grunt, i start to become shellshocked. i sometimes black out from fear, only to have horrible appirations spawing from the darkest corners of my mind, causing me to wake up with blood curdling screams on my lips.

All im saying is, For the love of God! People! choose a field other than the one next to my house to set off your boom rockets!.

Please

anyhoo, im guessing everyones out watching the perpetual 4 months of fireworks, so have fun, and try not to set them off drunk. or, get so drunk, that it doesnt matter!

Thats the English way!

Another holiday of arrogance and foolishness decides to grace us with its presence again. A holiday that is univerally celebrated, yet only relevant to a single, if large community of the world...is what i would say if i didn't think halloween was a delightfully fantasitc holiday. Often, before, these sporadic posts have been on subjects that cause a particular amount of distaste to my shattered and fickle mind. So many times has this happened. But no more will I be cynical and make complaints with needless verbosity!

or at least, not for a few minuites.

Halloween has always made me think of the dusty days of my childhood, where everything seemed to have a decidedly sepia tone. Things were simpler! Things were happier! Things were dull. I have had many people talk to me about how this particular (year 13, for the uneducated) is full of work. Is devoid of time in which to squander on fancies that might occur in the stages of your life. And I am not denying that the workload is intense. I am not denying that there isnt much time to spend on happier things. And I am certainly very aware of the impending doom of university, that threatens to sap the life away from us in a very, least we say, grusome fashion.

I am peturbed

The doom may seem overly tragic, with long staning friendships sinking, and the very balance of life shaken like a level that has been put on a wobbly shelving unit. Like that shelving unit, my life is on an axis. And probably, so are many others. (of lives, not axis')

But with deep thought, and consideration, the question I pose is:

would you have it any other way?

Yonder Y'alls!

Last one out switch off the light.

As i depart on my maiden (i use the term figuratively) voyage, i leave you with fond memories, so the least i could do was leave you guys a message.

Truckin' it off down to italy has not been a great experience for me in the past, and i have to think if it is really wise to return to a country that left me stung, broken and robbed. but im willing to give this shoe shaped country a second chance. Heres to hoping that the cobbled streets of venice will be more personable.

Ive never been comfortable with flying. theres something about being suspended by two thin sheets of metal that has always unnerved me, and the cylindrical tube looks awfully heavy for aformentioned "wings". I wait with baited breath to see if my pilot is qualified, or if he/she is even human. The internet has told me that sometimes, bears fly the planes. im hoping that my plane is one of the exeptions from what i can only assume is ursine tyranny. Im also hoping that whatever the species, the pilot will have apposable thumbs. If not, that wont end well for anybody.

The buffet cart, being always overpriced, means that i am unable to buy a cool refreshing, 3ml can of diet coke, which i so fondly place high upon my list of oft required treats. On top of this, the vomit inducing "air mall" will once again be thrusted into my life. I had tried to forget the tacky products, and the ridiculous amounts people will pay for them. Every year, the british airways seem to make itself more like a west country fair (those of you who visited pack monday will know the feeling) every year, the prices go up, and every time i board a plane, i see people buy the stuff.

I have yet to fathom why anybody would need a set of haedphones for £5, when they can only be described as broken, considering that they only work on the damn plane, and also when many people have a perfectly good pair already...


Then again, I would like to listen to re-runs of friends in crystal clear Airsoundplane(tm) that only special headphones can provide...


Laters Y'alls!

Are you not entertained?!

I will now post about a topic which is especially dear to my heart. Call me deadpan, but i will now dicuss with the eternally oblique opinions housed in my cranium. The subject is sitcoms. throughout my life, i have felt that sitcoms were the best kind of anti deppresant. As i a child, i would much rather cosy up with jokes i didnt understand and sexual innuendos that had no meaning to me, rather than watch the turgid CBBC or read the arduous books my mother reccomended so prominently. There was just a warm familiarity as i watched the paranoid pshycologist gaper around.

Laughing along to the audience was a delicious prospect, and not only did i watch these stage set shows casually, I felt i watched them with an air of proffesionalism. I was able to make a big deal out of these shows. I was able to give these shows the attention that they deserved. I would make food, i would set aside other things, just to have the private time with these sparkling, blissful televison sequences.

This "was" i am repeating has transferred to my present self. the one remenant of my childhood has kept with me. The temptation to shuck off childhood habits upon the infernal "coming of age" is huge, but the temptation to re-watch the inconsistent stylings of newsradio is even larger. These older sitcoms have helped to structure who i am. They have showed me what i might acomplish, and what life could be like at the same time. They have allowed me to realised my overall passion for comedic elements in all their various forms.

Overall, they make you feel good.

Which brings me neatly (and not at all planned) to the newer sitcoms. Also known as English sitcoms. Noticeable in the latest bout of new writers is that many of the themes are to do with prisons, or the unemployed. this does not interest me to a startling scale. I dont care about the problems and hilarity that could be encountered in a prison cell. (although admittedly porridge was hilarious in parts)

I want to know about the hilarity in a coffee shop. I think you all know what im talking about...

Im talking about the king (or queen) of sitcoms. sitting on its throne as an arbiter of all that is famous. I am of course refrencing the eternally great Ellen. Right guys? eh? eeeh?

Yeah!

Human instinct and the drive to scorn

A thought occured to me about 4 weeks ago. "Why not just be nice to everyone? that way, no one can be angry, and no one would be able to stop me from being nice, because im too nice!"

Naturally, as with every fleeting thought that strays into the vast abyss that is my mind, i thought this was a stroke of genius. considering two factors, i doubted my predetermined actions.
number one: In fleeting thoughts, I am often found thinking that sanding wood is a stroke of genius.
Number two: A man was nailed to a bit of wood some one thousand and eighty years earlier for having the exact same thought.

nevertheless, i proceeded with my seemingly flawless plan. I was nice on the bus, i was nice on the train, i was nice to cashiers, i was nice to my workmates, i was nice to teachers, i was nice to animals, i was nice to my friends, i was nice to my peirs. Heck, i was even nice to my sister. the extent of my niceness knew no bounds. The feeling on worldliness and self satisfaction was intimatley distinguishing. I felt as though the feeling could burn brighter than the sun itself!

However, there was one thing i didn't count one. One tiny iota of information which i didnt factor into this unbreakable dam of ideals, this chariot of dreams. This, good sirs, is the simple truth.

people you don't know, are often not nice people.

The general public doesnt want to have doors opened for them, they do not appreciate being called "sir" or "madam". they do not like having extra napkins, or being given a cup of tea. they do not like a smile as you walk in, or a friendly gesture as you thank them for all the bus rides they have been gracious enough to provide.

people, to put it politely, are rude. and the simplicity is that it is human nature to be vile, in order to protect ones flock, like one would as a lowly cave man.
this conundrum i leave to you, my ever suffering audience, and i hope you ponder: how nice have you been to your piers? how friendly were you to the bus driver? did you grant the smile which the tired cashier desrves?
I dont know, but i hope the answer is 'nice'.


and screw alla yous, im gonna be nice, despite my over-abundant failures.
Thats how I, indeed, roll.

All those who chose

Like a lowly pilgrim, i have departed to seek richer, greener, pastures. From the hellish torments of MySpace, i bring my works to this humble precipice of valour in order to produce more purer and cleaner literary passages. This is not to say that my previous works were dirty in the sense of their word usage and grammar, but only to state that MySpace was hardly the place to keep writing.

...Also, it has no save function. after two weeks, bam! gone.

And so i welcome those who have decided to dip their humble chip of interest into my chive sauce of creation.

Pull up a seat, order a coffee, sit back and unwind.
I hope you enjoy the writing as much as i do.