Children can be cute. I admit have made a small "d'awww" noise at the odd baby or toddler in the past, and felt a glow inside me that may have been my uterus smiling. Or this glow may have been every fiber in my body praying that the small human in question doesn't come any closer than five meters. Because, whether they are cute or not, I am quite terrified of these crawling, gummy gremlins, and have no interest in holding them so I would thank you people to STOP THRUSTING THEM IN MY DIRECTION.
I ran into an old colleague who I hadn't seen in a while on my way to work the other day. I was tired, grumpy, and wanted to do nothing more than listen to Planet Rock being pumped into my head via my earphones. But this person, who shall remain nameless, unfortunately came at me with such little warning that I was convinced she had emerged from the nearby shrubbery.
Now I hate these chance OMG-I-haven't-seen-you-in-ages conversations enough as it is, but I particularly wasn't in the mood for the back and forth "what have you been up to...ah there's nice" performance in this early morning zombified state. But being one of the politest people on earth, I pulled my earphones out and tried my best.
I'm ashamed to say it took me a full sixty seconds to notice the three-year-old standing at her side. This I was not prepared for. I managed a strangled "oh, hello!" and, furiously trying not to look awkward, bent slightly in the middle to lean closer in an attempt to look like a friendly adult. I don't think this worked as the little girl backed away, scowling.
I would have made my excuses and bolted at this point, but the ex-colleague blundgeoned on, beseeching the blonde haired small person to say hello back.
Silence.
I was not awake enough for this. Unable to take the stoney silence any longer, and painfully aware that I will still slightly bent over, I said in an entirely inappropriate formal tone, "I'm Rachel. And you are?". Yup. Like I was in a fucking business meeting.
The child was quickly ushered away after that.
So as I stated on Facebook the other day (shortly after this ridiculous exchange), I cannot talk to kids. I have never felt comfortable doing it, which, on paper, is illogical. It's highly unlikely that a small child would fix me with a beady eye and launch into a belittling speech of how I'm a disgrace to adults for not having the capability to discuss Dora the Explorer over a cup of pretend tea.
But I don't know what it is that makes it so diffcult.
It might be to do with the fact that my first instinct is to talk to everyone like adults. Even animals. I've lost count of how many times I've dissected Greece's financial plight with my cats. But I think the part of my brain which engages baby/toddler speak is not only broken, but missing entirely. I've tried to make an over-the-top fuss over a small person's toys or whatever, but whatever comes out of my mouth sounds like it's dripping in distain and I have no control over this.
It's not that I just feel uncomfotable meeting a child for the first time, it's ANY time. It doesn't matter on how many occasions I've met them, I will always feel like I'm being cheerily introduced to Hitler. There are several midget adults in my family, and if I'm placed near them I tend to grin constantly in their direction without saying a word, which is bound to get me in trouble one day. I'm sorry, parents, but I don't have a fucking clue what to say to your kids.
If I ever have a baby maybe the talk will come naturally. I sincerely hope so anyway, otherwise my spawn will be forbidden to talk until at least the age of eight. Eight is fine, it's a friendly number. Plus over-eights are less likely to suddenly rush towards me with jam or some other sticky shit on their fingers.
All this being said, I don't HATE kids. They're fine for people who want them. But I have a message for my friends out there with knee-high little scamps. Your children will get a small wave from me, maybe a smile, and that's it. Please don't plonk them in my lap or try and force conversation. One day I'll get over this little brain fart in my personality make up, but until then, keep 'em away. Cheers.
And finally, please don't execute the cardinal sin which is leaving me alone with your child. I will not molest them. I will not give them alcohol or teach them swear words. I will run for my life. I will hide under or in the nearest available object and wait for your return, sobbing quietly.
You don't want me to confuse your child like that, do you?
Saturday, 13 October 2012
Tuesday, 19 June 2012
Things that annoy me #2 - Fifty Shades of Shite
Alright, it's once again been another year since I've angrily tapped something into this little box. It's not my fault, I genuinely forget about this thing. But I promise I will try my best to keep it up this time.
"WHAT'S ANNOYING YOU TODAY?" I hear you shriek. First of all, calm down before you squeal yourself into an early grave. Now that you're nicely silent, gather 'round, and let me tell you the story about the worst story ever written - Fifty Shades of Grey.
Let me just put a quick disclaimer in here first - I know a few of my friends have read/are reading the book, and are enjoying it. These friends are also on Facebook, where I will be sharing this blog. This is not a personal attack on you. Rest assured I like you all very much, and I'm not knocking your tastes.
But you're fucking morons.
Curiosity finally got the better of me on Sunday, and I bought the book. I had been intrigued by it for a few days. Why was this particular trilogy of erotica causing such a storm? There are many, many books out there in the same vein, what makes this one so different? Perhaps it's beautifully written, with memorable, lovable characters that worm their way into your heart and stay there. Perhaps it's a book that will change your life.
It ain't.
Lets start with our little leading lady - Anastasia Steele. The moment I saw her full name I groaned. The early signs were not good, and I hoped that something in this character would make me see past this horrendous and cliched name, something to actually make me care about what happens to her. No such luck. "Ana" is bland, dim, and terrifically annoying. There is absolutely nothing to this character, nothing witty, nothing insightful, nothing exciting. All she does is blush and talk about how lovely and grey Christian Grey's eyes are (yeah, it actually goes there). Her subconscious and "inner goddess" are referred to as second and third characters on such a regular basis that I began to suspect that even the author was bored of Ana too.
Ah yes, the author. Lets get one thing perfectly clear, and this is not up for debate. This woman, EL James, cannot write. This is not an opinion, not something that I'm willing to cheerfully discuss over a pint with the possibility that I will emerge with a different opinion on the matter. It is a fact. Her writing style is so simplistic, so lacking in any edge whatsoever that it leads me to believe that the people who read this rubbish have never previously read a book in their life. I have never, ever come across an author with such a clearly limited vocabulary. For example, as I was reading (with a look of horror permanently etched onto my face by now), I noticed that Ana was saying the word "holy" a bit more than was acceptable. It was everywhere. Holy crap! Holy shit! Holy fuck! Holy Moses! It almost seemed like the author was trolling the reader, seeing how many times she could fit her clearly-favourite word into this book without anyone noticing. Well, Mrs James, I did notice, and it got to me so much that I found myself emitting a small roar of frustration every time this bastard popped up. It is written, without exaggeration, at least once every other page. Sometimes twice on one page. You cannot argue that this is good writing, that this author deserves any of these millions coming her way. It is literary laziness. What is also clear is that this woman, perhaps aware that her readers might notice she has simply been repeating the same words over and over, has on occasion Googled a word that she intends to use, plucked a synonym of that word out of a list, and plonked it into a setence. The word does not quite fit, and is a desparate attempt to appear like she has a more varied vocabularly than she actually does. Oh, and she's also fond of the word "equilibrium", throwing it in wherever she can and no doubt beaming with pride that she knew a word that contained more than three syllables.
One thing I will say is that the author knows what what the average woman wants to hear. The sex scenes were ok: dominant, muscular guy who likes tying women up. That's fine with me, bra. But the point is they're nothing special, and certainly not deserving the mountains of praise being heaped upon them. For one thing, the author refers to the characters genitalia as "sex", or occasionally, with the author's cheeks flushing furiuously, referred to as "down there". Oh please. The whole thing has an air of a giggling school girl, and it is unbelievably grating. And the bits in between these little meetings are so tediously boring that in the end I simply skimmed over them, my zipping eyes leaving a long trail of "he's so freaking hot", "holy shit!" and "equilibriums" in their wake.
It is trash. Complete and utter trash, and I am puzzled to why this has become such a phenomenon. Even the middle aged housewives who usually indulge in Mills and Boon would surely notice that they appear to be reading something that has the same four or five pages copied and pasted over and over again.
I'm disappointed. It would have been nice if it was a fantastic, well written read that I could discuss with other people. And to these other people, I beg you -
DO NOT BUY THIS FUCKING BOOK.
And to those who are currently reading it, please, have a good, long look at what you're taking in. Notice the paragraphs a 12-year-old could have knocked up while sitting in front of the TV, notice the bland, underdeveloped characters and the general tone of stupidity. Put the thing down and stop pouring money into the pockets of a talentless idiot.
The offending book is currently face-down behind me on the bed. I have yet to finish it. I'm about three quarters of the way through, and struggling. I don't like not finishing books, and I am determined to do it seeing as I've paid for it (£7.99. £7.99!).
You may think I shouldn't really give my opinion on it seeing as I haven't completed it yet. But trust me when I say this - it isn't going to get any better, and fuck me, this little rant needed to get out before I burned the book in the playground of a local school.
Laughing. Laughing maniacally.
Monday, 11 April 2011
Things that annoy me #1 - Wind Street
Yeah ok, it's been nearly a year since my last blog entry. I do think of things to write about, but I tend to do most of my ranting on Facebook as it offers quick relief. But after some pestering by friends, I'm starting this baby back up again. My first few posts will be about things that annoy me, cos I'm a cheerful soul. The first vexing blot in my life is Wind Street.
Let me just make something clear first. I don't condemn all who set foot on the street; I've done it before and I'll probably do it again. If you want to go, fine. I raise a few eyebrows when I say I'm off to Sin City to perv on angsty teenagers, each to their own. But to me it does seem like a meeting point for all of the biggest and loudest twats in South Wales. What prompted me to write this is I recently had the pleasure of fleetingly visiting the street again, and the first thing I saw was a young lady get unsteadily out of a taxi near the castle, stare triumphantly into the distance for a couple of seconds before vomiting on her shoes.
I'll start off by slating the typical women who descend upon the street. I cringe when I see young girls with orange/brown faces strutting about wearing what I can only assume are belts for skirts. It's not a jealousy thing, I just think it looks desperate, and not very nice in the slightest. I wonder how these girls can look at themselves in the mirror before setting out, take in their huge stuck on eyelashes, six layers of makeup, and barely-concealed vag-jay-jay and think "yup, I look awesome". I sometimes walk into bars thinking I've accidentally stumbled into an oompa-loompa sex party. Then as the evening wears on, they get steadily louder and more screechy, before inevitably collapsing face first onto the pavement. If drunken tears make an appearence they end up looking like a recently-dumped Joker. I've also been "started on" by these human sex dolls on a couple of occasions for accidentally knocking them as I make my way through the bar. This doesn't happen much, and I always immediately apologise, but I usually get some sort of unnecessary "watch where you're fucking going" comment thrown at me. Although if their excessive layers of lipgloss have glued their lips shut I tend to receive such an evil stare you'd swear I'd just eaten their first child. I also derive much amusement from the poses these types of girls pull for photos, usually adopting the "duck face" which I assume they think makes them look sexy instead of retarded.
Then you have the men. As you all know I've been in a relationship for over seven years and therefore have absolutely no interest in the advances of lagered up spackers who are under the illusion that they are God's gift to women. These are the type of guys who will stumble up to you, slur something you can't quite make out, before taking your response of "erm" as "please put me over your shoulder and carry me away from my friends". I also had one guy put his tongue in my ear. I liked him.
Then there's the bars themselves. There are a few I don't mind, but I once had the unpleasant experience of being in Ice, which is in my opionion the worst bar on the street. Packed to the rafters with chavs, pumping out crap music and boasting a very threatening atmosphere, I find it difficult to believe that people can actually have fun in that place. I also got charged five pounds sodding fifty pence for a double vodka and redbull in there once. The girl behind the bar also managed to knock my confidence in the process, slowly looking me up and down before saying "that's £5.50, mind". I felt like going back and ordering ten more just to make a point. Couple these sort of bars with bouncers on a power trip and you'll soon be wishing you were home with a cup of very strong tea. It doesn't help that, the majority of the time, what I seek in a night out is a few drinks and drunken banter. You can't have that in bars that are steadily trying to deafen you with Rihanna's latest hits. I don't like having to get an inch away from my friend's ear to shout "CAN WE LEAVE?" over the music. I also can't dance, and I don't mean that in a cutesy I-like-to-say-I-can't-dance-but-secretly-can way. I mean it in the way that I have absolutely no rhythm, no grace, and no real desire to dance to the sort of music coming out of the speakers. I'd much jump about to Feeder without caring about how much of an idiot I probably look.
Oh, and the bars are also slippery when wet, as I discovered when taking my younger sister out for her 18th birthday last year. We were quite a few drinks down in Idols before she went arse over tit on the dancefloor due to what was probably a pool of Stella. She was fine, bruised ankle, but in my drunken state the first thing that sprung to my mind as I watched my little sister sail through the air towards the sodden Idols floor was "Mam better not fucking blame me for this".
All that being said, it's probably not the worst place in the world, and there have been rare occasions where I've had fun on this street. But I really need to be in the right mood. And pissed. Very, very pissed.
Let me just make something clear first. I don't condemn all who set foot on the street; I've done it before and I'll probably do it again. If you want to go, fine. I raise a few eyebrows when I say I'm off to Sin City to perv on angsty teenagers, each to their own. But to me it does seem like a meeting point for all of the biggest and loudest twats in South Wales. What prompted me to write this is I recently had the pleasure of fleetingly visiting the street again, and the first thing I saw was a young lady get unsteadily out of a taxi near the castle, stare triumphantly into the distance for a couple of seconds before vomiting on her shoes.
I'll start off by slating the typical women who descend upon the street. I cringe when I see young girls with orange/brown faces strutting about wearing what I can only assume are belts for skirts. It's not a jealousy thing, I just think it looks desperate, and not very nice in the slightest. I wonder how these girls can look at themselves in the mirror before setting out, take in their huge stuck on eyelashes, six layers of makeup, and barely-concealed vag-jay-jay and think "yup, I look awesome". I sometimes walk into bars thinking I've accidentally stumbled into an oompa-loompa sex party. Then as the evening wears on, they get steadily louder and more screechy, before inevitably collapsing face first onto the pavement. If drunken tears make an appearence they end up looking like a recently-dumped Joker. I've also been "started on" by these human sex dolls on a couple of occasions for accidentally knocking them as I make my way through the bar. This doesn't happen much, and I always immediately apologise, but I usually get some sort of unnecessary "watch where you're fucking going" comment thrown at me. Although if their excessive layers of lipgloss have glued their lips shut I tend to receive such an evil stare you'd swear I'd just eaten their first child. I also derive much amusement from the poses these types of girls pull for photos, usually adopting the "duck face" which I assume they think makes them look sexy instead of retarded.
Then you have the men. As you all know I've been in a relationship for over seven years and therefore have absolutely no interest in the advances of lagered up spackers who are under the illusion that they are God's gift to women. These are the type of guys who will stumble up to you, slur something you can't quite make out, before taking your response of "erm" as "please put me over your shoulder and carry me away from my friends". I also had one guy put his tongue in my ear. I liked him.
Then there's the bars themselves. There are a few I don't mind, but I once had the unpleasant experience of being in Ice, which is in my opionion the worst bar on the street. Packed to the rafters with chavs, pumping out crap music and boasting a very threatening atmosphere, I find it difficult to believe that people can actually have fun in that place. I also got charged five pounds sodding fifty pence for a double vodka and redbull in there once. The girl behind the bar also managed to knock my confidence in the process, slowly looking me up and down before saying "that's £5.50, mind". I felt like going back and ordering ten more just to make a point. Couple these sort of bars with bouncers on a power trip and you'll soon be wishing you were home with a cup of very strong tea. It doesn't help that, the majority of the time, what I seek in a night out is a few drinks and drunken banter. You can't have that in bars that are steadily trying to deafen you with Rihanna's latest hits. I don't like having to get an inch away from my friend's ear to shout "CAN WE LEAVE?" over the music. I also can't dance, and I don't mean that in a cutesy I-like-to-say-I-can't-dance-but-secretly-can way. I mean it in the way that I have absolutely no rhythm, no grace, and no real desire to dance to the sort of music coming out of the speakers. I'd much jump about to Feeder without caring about how much of an idiot I probably look.
Oh, and the bars are also slippery when wet, as I discovered when taking my younger sister out for her 18th birthday last year. We were quite a few drinks down in Idols before she went arse over tit on the dancefloor due to what was probably a pool of Stella. She was fine, bruised ankle, but in my drunken state the first thing that sprung to my mind as I watched my little sister sail through the air towards the sodden Idols floor was "Mam better not fucking blame me for this".
All that being said, it's probably not the worst place in the world, and there have been rare occasions where I've had fun on this street. But I really need to be in the right mood. And pissed. Very, very pissed.
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
The event of the yur, like
Nobody who knows me could ever accuse me of hating Swansea. I was born and bred here, and I love the place. I could go on and on about the ways in which Swansea is awesome (and believe me I do), but this post will be casting a critical eye over a certain event over the weekend that swiftly pissed off me and everyone within a five-mile-radius of the fucking thing.
Upon glancing out of my window at 11.30am on Saturday, all I could see were topless male chavs with "tats" in abundance, and scantily clad female chavs, the majority holding a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of alcohol in the other. All were bellowing a limited variety of swears, and generally strutting around like they owned Uplands, occasionally stopping briefly to vomit. I naturally assumed it was the apocalypse, and promptly shut my curtains, and dithered for a couple of minutes wondering who I should phone to say goodbye to first. Then I remembered it was the chav's version of Christmas. Escape in the Park has been running for quite a few years now, and while I've always been an advocate of "each to their own", I have no idea why anyone would want to gather in an arena which offerings include an endless mish-mash of noise, aggressive, worked up meatheads fighting eachother, and general chav-esque tomfoolery that would embarrass even Tim Westwood.
I will go on to look at how the event could be good for Swansea later on, but first I will look at how it annoys most Swansea residents to the point of writing a strongly-worded blog entry.
First of all - the noise. At the risk of sounding like an elderly woman who glares in the direction of any type of pitch higher than that nice Terry Wogan off the radio's dulcet tones, the noise is fucking ridiculous. From what I've heard, the arena is not big. Therefore it's not like a lot of musical festivals where, due to the space left between stages, you can hear a definite melody and lyrics from the outside of the arena. With EITP however, all that can be heard is a horrible, non-specific boom-boom-boom, thanks to stages being placed too close together, with the respective Djs assumingly trying to out-do eachother in regards to volume. This is a nightmare for any nearby residents who have the nerve not to be interested in non-stop repetitive noise. This leads me into my next point - the location.
You will rarely get musical festivals plonked in the middle of residental areas. The reasons are obvious, and yet the organisers choose to ignore this and go ahead with it anyway. I may have been slightly more acceptable of the idea if the little darlings pill-popping parade ended at around 6-7pm instead of carrying on until 12am. Twelve hours of eardrum busting "music" isn't fair on anyone in the vicinity. I'm not saying I toddle off to bed at 7pm on a Saturday night, but I'm not the only person living in the surrounding area. There are people of all ages, case in point I have a friend who lives nearby with a young daughter and he expressed his frustration of not being able to get her off to sleep due to the noise. Another thing the organisers have seemingly failed to acknowledge is the very long and very busy duel carriageway that runs along Singleton park, and how the aforementioned carriageway may pose a threat to drunk/drugged individuals who may choose to escape the park for a bit (see what I did there). I remember when Jonny used to live in West Cross, I had several idiots walk nonchalantly infront of my car as I was driving along on the day of this wretched event. And even when it ends, it doesn't stop there.
I've had a couple of light hearted digs at the chavs already, and yeah maybe they can be a bit louder and more aggressive than your average music festival goer, but I'm not going to pretend that the piece de resistance of this annoying tale wouldn't have happened if they had been of a different variety of people. Living in Uplands, there are a lot of taxis, kebab shops etc, so it's unsurprising that a lot of the masses go home via this way. Unfortunately, due to a mix of alcohol and euphoria, and without a doubt something of the illegal variety, it renders them without a care in the world. This leads to groups of utter twats marching through the streets at silly o clock singing, fighting, and generally screeching at the top of their voices, without even considering how their actions may be affecting other people. I was woken up quite a lot, as was Jonny, and I'm sure loads of other people.
Ok, I understand how events like this could be good for the area, for example tourism. I also appreciate that it could generate a fair amount of money as well. But in my opinion it doesn't justify putting everyone in the vicinity through a bit of a nightmare in the process. Yes it's only one day, but unless you live nearby you can't imagine how annoying it is. And I'm not just having a bit of a moan purely because it's a be festival which includes the type of music I'm not really into; I had the same concerns when Singelton Park was going to hold the Fflam festival a couple of years ago. Initially I thought it was a good idea, but then I considered the location, and started to wonder if the organisers had really thought this through.
Anyway, rant over. There's not doubt EITP will continue for years, and I can deal with it, probably by investing in a good pair of earplugs. It's the older people I feel most sorry for, perhaps organisers should start a campaign to include them...
Whatever happens, I would prefer it if this particular outside disco was a silent one.
Upon glancing out of my window at 11.30am on Saturday, all I could see were topless male chavs with "tats" in abundance, and scantily clad female chavs, the majority holding a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of alcohol in the other. All were bellowing a limited variety of swears, and generally strutting around like they owned Uplands, occasionally stopping briefly to vomit. I naturally assumed it was the apocalypse, and promptly shut my curtains, and dithered for a couple of minutes wondering who I should phone to say goodbye to first. Then I remembered it was the chav's version of Christmas. Escape in the Park has been running for quite a few years now, and while I've always been an advocate of "each to their own", I have no idea why anyone would want to gather in an arena which offerings include an endless mish-mash of noise, aggressive, worked up meatheads fighting eachother, and general chav-esque tomfoolery that would embarrass even Tim Westwood.
I will go on to look at how the event could be good for Swansea later on, but first I will look at how it annoys most Swansea residents to the point of writing a strongly-worded blog entry.
First of all - the noise. At the risk of sounding like an elderly woman who glares in the direction of any type of pitch higher than that nice Terry Wogan off the radio's dulcet tones, the noise is fucking ridiculous. From what I've heard, the arena is not big. Therefore it's not like a lot of musical festivals where, due to the space left between stages, you can hear a definite melody and lyrics from the outside of the arena. With EITP however, all that can be heard is a horrible, non-specific boom-boom-boom, thanks to stages being placed too close together, with the respective Djs assumingly trying to out-do eachother in regards to volume. This is a nightmare for any nearby residents who have the nerve not to be interested in non-stop repetitive noise. This leads me into my next point - the location.
You will rarely get musical festivals plonked in the middle of residental areas. The reasons are obvious, and yet the organisers choose to ignore this and go ahead with it anyway. I may have been slightly more acceptable of the idea if the little darlings pill-popping parade ended at around 6-7pm instead of carrying on until 12am. Twelve hours of eardrum busting "music" isn't fair on anyone in the vicinity. I'm not saying I toddle off to bed at 7pm on a Saturday night, but I'm not the only person living in the surrounding area. There are people of all ages, case in point I have a friend who lives nearby with a young daughter and he expressed his frustration of not being able to get her off to sleep due to the noise. Another thing the organisers have seemingly failed to acknowledge is the very long and very busy duel carriageway that runs along Singleton park, and how the aforementioned carriageway may pose a threat to drunk/drugged individuals who may choose to escape the park for a bit (see what I did there). I remember when Jonny used to live in West Cross, I had several idiots walk nonchalantly infront of my car as I was driving along on the day of this wretched event. And even when it ends, it doesn't stop there.
I've had a couple of light hearted digs at the chavs already, and yeah maybe they can be a bit louder and more aggressive than your average music festival goer, but I'm not going to pretend that the piece de resistance of this annoying tale wouldn't have happened if they had been of a different variety of people. Living in Uplands, there are a lot of taxis, kebab shops etc, so it's unsurprising that a lot of the masses go home via this way. Unfortunately, due to a mix of alcohol and euphoria, and without a doubt something of the illegal variety, it renders them without a care in the world. This leads to groups of utter twats marching through the streets at silly o clock singing, fighting, and generally screeching at the top of their voices, without even considering how their actions may be affecting other people. I was woken up quite a lot, as was Jonny, and I'm sure loads of other people.
Ok, I understand how events like this could be good for the area, for example tourism. I also appreciate that it could generate a fair amount of money as well. But in my opinion it doesn't justify putting everyone in the vicinity through a bit of a nightmare in the process. Yes it's only one day, but unless you live nearby you can't imagine how annoying it is. And I'm not just having a bit of a moan purely because it's a be festival which includes the type of music I'm not really into; I had the same concerns when Singelton Park was going to hold the Fflam festival a couple of years ago. Initially I thought it was a good idea, but then I considered the location, and started to wonder if the organisers had really thought this through.
Anyway, rant over. There's not doubt EITP will continue for years, and I can deal with it, probably by investing in a good pair of earplugs. It's the older people I feel most sorry for, perhaps organisers should start a campaign to include them...
Whatever happens, I would prefer it if this particular outside disco was a silent one.
Thursday, 8 April 2010
So it's come to this
Well, I've finally given in and started a blog. I actually meant to start one a couple of years back, but I felt compelled to recently after it was suggested I should start sharing my life with the internet by a couple of friends. It may be a bit of hardcore procrastination on my part, too. Also I'm very bored right now as Jonny has gone to a Geography conference for two days (what can I say, I like bad boys).
I do think me keeping a blog is a good idea though. It means I can moan about people/things on here instead of using my Facebook status. But this one won't be about moaning as I've been thinking about my future recently so my first blog will be my musings on that.
I'm actually looking forward to finishing university. I'm growing tired of assignments, and even more tired of the reaction I get when I tell people I'm a student. Upon telling non-student people that I'm the big S, I usually get "playful" mutterings of "Lazy...my taxes...get a job" with a generous splash of tutting in between. While in part I think there might be a touch of jealousy in the tiresome reaction, I can see where they're coming from I guess. You've got Facebook groups such as 'University - it's like being on the dole only your parents are proud of you', and that's not far off what it's like some of the time. However I think these non-students overlook the fact that there is hard work involved, and it's not all alcohol, vomiting, one night stands and running naked through the streets. However one thing I enjoy when telling people I'm a student is telling people what I study. While I do get people being interested in the fact that I study Criminology, I derive great amusement from the people who feign joy while shooting me a slightly uneasy look and hastily making sure they're not doing anything illegal. If I produce a magnifying glass and a pipe at this point they run a mile.
Anyway, the summer should be interesting. I'm planning on working part-time for most part, while at the same time whoring myself out to any sort of law-enforcement establishment to gain experience so I have more chance of starting a meaningful career sooner rather than later. It's all for the CV, baby. I just know that I'm not going to jump headlong into the first mediocre job I can get my hands on, pretending to myself that it's "just for now". At the end of the day, people can get comfortable and before they know it, 10 years has passed and they're still there. I'm not prepared to waste the past three years of my life.
I'm also looking forward to moving out of the flat. While I still like it and it's been a good first place for me and Jonny, it's getting to that stage now where we need more space. We also really want a couple of pets (in particular a Scottish Fold cat - look it up. They are AWESOME). Ideally we'd like to stay around Uplands as it's a great area, we've grown pretty fond of it.
Well I think that's it for my first blog. Stay tuned for more crap soon.
I do think me keeping a blog is a good idea though. It means I can moan about people/things on here instead of using my Facebook status. But this one won't be about moaning as I've been thinking about my future recently so my first blog will be my musings on that.
I'm actually looking forward to finishing university. I'm growing tired of assignments, and even more tired of the reaction I get when I tell people I'm a student. Upon telling non-student people that I'm the big S, I usually get "playful" mutterings of "Lazy...my taxes...get a job" with a generous splash of tutting in between. While in part I think there might be a touch of jealousy in the tiresome reaction, I can see where they're coming from I guess. You've got Facebook groups such as 'University - it's like being on the dole only your parents are proud of you', and that's not far off what it's like some of the time. However I think these non-students overlook the fact that there is hard work involved, and it's not all alcohol, vomiting, one night stands and running naked through the streets. However one thing I enjoy when telling people I'm a student is telling people what I study. While I do get people being interested in the fact that I study Criminology, I derive great amusement from the people who feign joy while shooting me a slightly uneasy look and hastily making sure they're not doing anything illegal. If I produce a magnifying glass and a pipe at this point they run a mile.
Anyway, the summer should be interesting. I'm planning on working part-time for most part, while at the same time whoring myself out to any sort of law-enforcement establishment to gain experience so I have more chance of starting a meaningful career sooner rather than later. It's all for the CV, baby. I just know that I'm not going to jump headlong into the first mediocre job I can get my hands on, pretending to myself that it's "just for now". At the end of the day, people can get comfortable and before they know it, 10 years has passed and they're still there. I'm not prepared to waste the past three years of my life.
I'm also looking forward to moving out of the flat. While I still like it and it's been a good first place for me and Jonny, it's getting to that stage now where we need more space. We also really want a couple of pets (in particular a Scottish Fold cat - look it up. They are AWESOME). Ideally we'd like to stay around Uplands as it's a great area, we've grown pretty fond of it.
Well I think that's it for my first blog. Stay tuned for more crap soon.
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