What the horizon brings…

hmmmSo they say blogging is dead. I don’t know why, but they do. This is not a particularly good fact to learn when one is just starting out in the endeavour of blogging. Of course, if every blogger is like me then this fact is perfectly understandable. After strangely waking up at 8am on a Sunday, which is a very unusual occurrence, the  day has passed me by without little activity. Except for my continuous mental reminders that “I should probably write some more of my blog, since I haven’t written on it for a while and I have no excuse not to, now I’ve finished essays and am just blobbing around,” and the occasional cup of tea, snack and various other miscellaneous activities, I have done not much else, as usual. Basking in the feeling of relief that completed essays bring, it is only now, in my opinion, writing this blog post, that I am doing an important task. After all, it’s out there to be judged by people like yourself.

Yes, this one’s more life and times reflective drivel, I’m afraid, since life seems to be happily flowing forward quickly and easily without obstruction or particular phases of excitement, at the moment. Once again, it is nearly the end of the term, essays are finished early, Easter break is on it’s way, and I’m still longing for the long warm summer, in which I can finally shake off the noose of this marvellous student financial deprivation. But for this to happen, I have to work. Which is the cruel crushing irony. Rather than taking a well earned break (of course) over Easter I will – most likely – be working to pay for the overdraft I’ve delved into this term and to pay for the car insurance renewal, which, happily, is not bound to be quite so astronomical this time, just maybe atmospheric. It never bl*ody ends. My dreams for genuine prolonged periods of doing bugger-all seem to still be beyond the horizon yet… Even far off are the realisation of my dreams of attending music festivals for a weekend or so and adventurous UK road trips…

Sunset horizon

A sweet horizon at sunset. The only interesting and relevant image I could find for my blog.

It’s not all boring and arbitrary though. Fortunately this week I’ve had some sort of guidance about which direction I should head in to that vast, mysterious and bright horizon. For a long time I’ve been interested in a few main ‘fields,’ if you like, including motoring, aviation, and as you’d expect, writing. After only half an hour of official ‘careers advice,’ I had officially come to the conclusion that writing was the way forward to somehow indulge in all my interests, precisely how that indulgence will manifest itself is another thing. So, that’s good, I suppose.

Sigh. I realise how I’ve literally just typed out my memory recollection and endless thought streams, hammering my laptop keyboard mercilessly. How boring. But life goes on.

Well, since it is now pretty much official that I should take up writing in some form or another at some point in my life, I will say I haven’t forgotten about that short story I intended to finish five weeks ago. If I manage to bring myself to not do ‘nothing’ this week, I will have a modest crack at finishing it, at some point. Rest assured, you will know if I do, most likely.

So, my first lesson about writing learnt today: find some genuinely interesting material to write about.  Let’s hope I do for next time, hey? So much for keeping blogging alive.

Nevertheless, now to indulge in my passion for motoring. Bring on Top Gear, the only interesting event on my student Sunday nights.

Laters all.

Advertisements

Same difference

Time-warpThat’s it. All done and dusted for another year. Well, almost.

I say this because I have just achieved the word limit on my essay, meaning, no matter how much of an irrelevant, pointless, unreadable, off-on-a-tangent laborious example of turd-quality drivel it is, it’s done. Yes. I am pleased with that. Chuffed, in fact. As I have stated before essays are the bane of my life at present. But how I ever thought I wouldn’t need to write at least one whilst at University studying for an English Literature degree I have no idea.  Probably because I’m a tad nuts.

All that’s left to do is polish it off and upload it, but using my previous description, you can’t polish a turd, so yes, I am done with University work this year. And according to the chronological order into which various periods of ‘parts’ of my life fall, this means I’m basically done with this year too. And what a year: I finished my first year at Uni’, and started my second; had some utter cretin write off my first car; nearly killed my cretin self and at the same time crashed my first car myself, bought my second car (which is exactly the same as the first one); landed myself a far better job than the completely cack one I had for three years from which I earnt almost £13.76 in total; started renting a house for the first time; learnt that those intriguing machines stuffed into walls of banks don’t actually give out an endless stream of free crumpled paper, and that month old sweet and sour sauce smells exactly like dark chocolate, but God it does not also taste like it. At all.

An eventful year then, I hear you state. Yes, I reply, yes indeed.

I also turned twenty years of age, which I guess is also vaguely important. Sometimes I remember that I’m no longer a teenager and when I randomly remember I think “oh yeah, I’m twenty.”  It may be a knackered-as-Grandad old cliché but you do really never know what’s around the corner, literally sometimes. If I was to be serious, though, one thing I have definitely been educated on this year, relevant above most other things (except that farting in the bath after a curry is basically suicidal) is that thing we call life really is what we make it, and the gap between life and death really is as thin as is short the story of Ann Widdecombe’s sex life.

Drunk Santa

Me. On January the 1st 2012, 2pm. Beautiful.

Well, all that aside, I am looking forward to acquiring a few stone over Christmas, loosing a few thousand brain-cells through getting “merry” and a few hundred-thousand more through the effects of being utterly gazeboed. In addition, although I’ve been enlightened by an almanacs’ worth of stuff this year, making me a wise old white-haired wizard compared to me a year ago, I intend to leave this year exactly the same way I entered it: very very out of my mind and very off my face.

Essays can do one

So it’s been a while, just thought I’d post something quickly, since it’s 2:28am on a Friday night/Saturday morning and I should be out forgetting everything that makes any sense and getting off my/on someone else’s tits. But I am not. Because my student loan doesn’t quite cover it this year. Oh dear. Oh dear indeed.

Don’t worry, my silence doesn’t in fact mean I’m dead. Nope, the reality is I’ve been stuck doing essays since about two weeks ago, and boy had I forgotten how much I detest them, actually with a passion. Having to do four at the same time is a bigger pain in the arse than a telegraph pole. Not to worry, I’ve genuinely been sad and/or OCD enough to mathematically calculate precisely the minimum amount of words I can write per day and still finish all my essays before the deadline.

I far prefer writing in this ranting, pointless manner on a blog rather than in an organised structured manner which has to agree with other writers directly, and hence to me is equally pointless, but I’m not getting in to debt for nothing!

Anyways, any suggestions for something relevant/vaguely interesting to write about when it’s not stupid o’clock would be appreciated for next time around.

 

Laters all.

I’ll do it later

Garfield 'I don't do mornings' Morning all.

There, that says it all. That’s not intended to be a joke or sarcastic or even some light casual form of humour highlighting the improper usage of time specific greetings in any way. I genuinely thought it was morning when I wrote that, before suddenly realising ‘no, you’ve been asleep for what most other people call morning. Morning is from 12am till 11:59:59am, despite the fact a nuclear war couldn’t wake you, time and space doesn’t wait for you to wake up, because you are a lazy mofo.’ So here I am shocked that it’s already half past three and all I have done is eat some supermarket brand Shreddies, shower, made a cup of tea that would even put hairs on Chuck Norris’ chest, but which tastes like what I imagine stinging nettles to taste, half eaten a sausage roll, and crafted a pathetic excuse for a peanut butter sandwich using ancient bread that crumbles like my Mum’s pastry. That is genuinely all I have done.

On the odd occasion I miss being at work. Not only is this shocking and wrong, but it’s also ironic. When I am at work, the last thing I want is to be there. But I am occupied and doing something that might one day vaguely help mankind in some way, and I am getting paid for it. Still, I would quite like to not be there but somewhere where my relentlessly lazy existence doing whatever I want whenever might be noticed and result in some benefit. At Uni’, when I have exhausted literally every means of keeping oneself occupied (and I mean every means) , I am very occasionally drawn to wanting to be made to move my arse and go out and do something, and the first thing that comes off my head is to be at work. But this never happens. To be fair, I do write up lecture notes and do perhaps read a word or two of the reading I’m supposed to do, and ponder the difficulties of future essays, but overall a massive amount of the time is spent literally doing what some like to call ‘f*ck all.’

In a more polite – and accurate – sense, one might call it the practice of procrastination. For those of you not versed with the definitions of common studentisms, I will quote you the Oxford English Dictionary definition of procrastination, because I am an English student, and it makes me look like I do things properly, and the OED is boss:

procrastination

Pronunciation:/prə(ʊ)ˌkrastɪˈneɪʃ(ə)n/

noun
[mass noun]
the action of delaying or postponing something:
  your first tip is to avoid procrastination

Phrases
procrastination is the thief of time
proverb if you delay doing something, it will take longer to do later on:
 maybe TV and procrastination really are the thieves of time

And this, my friends, embodies the entirety of most students’ existences whilst at University. Like chlamydia, it’s an awkward disease that unknowingly infects a large majority of students. It’s a case of promising yourself that you will ‘write the introduction to that essay’ or ‘plan that assignment’ or ‘read some of that article I should have read last week’ or ‘go and make dinner because it’s 11:30 at night and you’ve been hungry for the last 7 hours.’ It suits every part of our lives to the letter… or is it just me? It gets really bad when one thinks ‘I should stop watching TV and go to bed in a minute.’ Mix procrastination with sleep, and, either way, you are destined to be chewed up and spat out by fail itself.

Indeed, I have deadlines looming on the distant but inevitable horizon and some 10,000 words to somehow spew out in a creative and professional manner before Christmas, and I am using my time procrastinating to write this blog, when I should really ‘write the introduction to that essay.’

I think I’ll stop now and procrastinate later…