I’m really not doing myself any favours, trying to make real use of these long uni’ summers and all. Slightly disappointed that my last blog was right back in May! Summer hadn’t even started then… Well, exams are long gone and so are the blurry end-of-year celebrations. In fact, minus about four weeks I’ve had off at the time of writing (actually, a bit longer than I thought, but anyway), since about two weeks after the start of the summer I’ve been working. Working working working. Boring boring boring. I tell you, stuffing envelopes or putting bags of exam papers – which I thought I could not associate with ever again after the end of the horrendous A-levels – into cardboard boxes all day every day after a while does make one genuinely consider that placing a skewer through one’s eye and a power-drill through one’s belly button would be infinitely more entertaining. At least, the consequences would make the days a tiny bit more interesting, if regrettable. Yes, we all dream about what we’re going to do ‘this summer’, making plans for this that and everything, ambitions to go here there and everywhere. Trouble is, it never really works out. For me, this is almost entirely down to the ridiculous ways in which I earn and spend money such that no matter what I earn it appears to evaporate on contact with my bank account as if it’s some massive metaphorical industrial money incinerator. No idea why it goes, where and how. And it’s annoying.
Admittedly, I have been to Reading Festival – which was definitely, if a dirty and mostly drunk experience – something I’d happily do again tomorrow – but give me an unbroken tent which I don’t have to put up at midnight, please. Florence from Florence and the Machine is definitely either slightly wacko or permanently wasted or high, or both. Foo Fighters were unreal too. Bit gutted I missed Green Day’s ‘secret’ set though… Damn. I’ve also seen quite a few new movies, more than usual this year. I particularly enjoyed watching Anne Hathaway in The Dark Knight Rises getting on and off, and riding a pretty bad-ass motorbike – I’m pretty sure there should have been a warning about mild pornography in some scenes, because some of them have been irreversibly carbonised into my memory. Being slightly academic for a brief moment, that film definitely proves the existence of the ‘male gaze’ in film making. Oh yes. I gazed.
It baffles me that already I’m barely weeks away from starting my final year at Uni’ and that in actual fact in what will seem like only an elongated hour, I’ll be finished, all done and dusted, hopefully graduated with a tidy 2:1. In English. Sigh. Then what? Who knows? I watched Anchorman for the second or maybe third time the other night and I quite fancy the Ron Burgundy lifestyle, but I somehow doubt the BBC or any British media institution has quite the Americanised ‘zing’ that can turn someone who sits and reads words off a screen into a famous person. But then, we are talking about a country where you can freely purchase a large calibre rifle in a department store, and where it is illegal to tie Giraffe’s to lamp-posts. That is a law the origins of which must be hilarious.
It just passes us all by, this immaterial thing civilisation has universally rationalised and explained as ‘time’. We make plans and look forward to relishing it and using it well, and then are surprised when it seems to just relentlessly evaporate into a vacuum, especially – and I emphasise, with irritation – when we are enjoying ourselves most. Like time-troll. It’s a rubbish analogy but it’s just like the ‘Godfather’ desserts one can purchase at some good restaurants. I really look forward to that and make plans to savour every last particle of fudge and chocolate and Malteser and toffee ice cream and vanilla ice cream and all that tasty high-calorie deliciousness. And then some b*stard nicks it the rest and before you know it it’s all over and done with. And you’ve put on two stone.
I end abruptly for I am now hungry. Stay tuned for a more interesting slightly more intellectual post in the near future.