The words contained in this here journal may not make much sense and they may not bear any relation to reality but one thing is for sure, they'll contain the word pasty.
First things first, it appears there is some problems with the commenting facility. This has been caused by a reversed polarity tachyon beam penetrating the blog's outer shell and ionising the field effect transistors. Unless the problem persists I won't be doing anything about it.
Stairwells. More precisely the stairwells running up and down the 11 floors of the Middlesbrough Tower at uni. At any given moment there are people going up and people going down (excluding those lazy enough to use the lifts i.e. everyone at uni) and I note a change in my own psychology going up compared to going down with respect to pedestrian etiquette.
It's always good to separate traffic flowing in opposite directions just like on the wiggly black stuff that is home to the many wheels of modern day transport. And like on the road it's advantageous to be on the inside of a corner, it's the shorter route and is also tighter for those who want to make their car slide about, woohoo yah. So in the world of the stairwell where the same corner goes on and on and on, who should be afforded the shorter route?
When I'm going up it should obviously be me because I'm having to put all that effort into fighting gravity (cue falling apples graphics) that it's only fair I'm afforded the reprieve of the shorter route. But on the way down it seems obvious that I should get the inside route because I'm flying down two steps at a time and will simply flatten anyone who gets in my way. This is somewhat similar to the psychology of the guy in a range rover who thinks he owns the road just because his car aerial twangs the height barrier at the local car park.
So who should get the inside? And more to the point if I'm so finicky about walking an extra two metres each floor then why don't I just get the lift? Answers on a postcard.
My family have gone to the NEC in Birmingham today to see the Motorbike Show. I've been once before and, for those who haven't, it's basically an opportunity to get very close to a lot of people, straddle lots of expensive and powerful machines, watch dancing women and just generally get very hot and sweaty in the coat you brought along but have nowhere to hang. Feel free to swap the nouns in that last sentence about to your hearts content.
It's generally good fun but once you've sat on one stationary motorbike you've sat on them all really. Pretty naff, though we did get to see some lunatic Supercross riders who seemed intent on putting on a dazzling spectacle by maiming themselves from the greatest height possible. You think Motorcross Madness is fun Capps? You should see them in real life!
Another debate the cropped up today. Bless you or gezhundheit? Given my naff attempt to spell the latter I'm sure you can figure out which one I'm favouring on a more textual basis. But when it comes to saying stuff I have to do a complete u-turn and go for ... errr... the one with a g at the beginning. Not only is it slightly less cliched but it's also uttered by that fearsome pirate, Guybrush Threepwood. This gives is godlike status in my mind.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
So what's going on? Well I'm hungry for one. My body is saying EAT, EAT! For gods sake find something rich in fatty sugarryness! But to be quite frank I can't be bothered to move (I'm at uni and a trip to the shop would take at least three minutes). I mean I'd have to stand up, walk all the way over there, fiddle about with money and all sorts!
Everyone seems overly uptight and upset at the moment, some with good reasons and some without (myself falling into the latter category). I'm trying to think of explanations why this is so and I can only conclude that this time of year is pretty damned rank:
1) Shorter days, blah blah.
2) Ice cream becomes unattractive.
3) There's very much a non-event kind of feeling. For me I'm too far past Scilly to be carried on its wave, too far from christmas to be caught in the yuletide spirit.
Claustrophobic is a word I use a lot. "I feel claustrophobic I say" and I use it for many a situation. It's true to say that if you stick me in a tight walled cave I can go a bit funny, close me in the boot of your car and start driving and I'll go somewhat bananas (and did). I say I feel claustrophobic in cities. I say I feel claustrophobic if I don't have much choice over what I do. And I feel claustrophic at this time of year. For want of a better word.
I'm guessing that most people's year kinda swings around christmas and new year, seems only sensible, but mine has always been orientated around my yearly pilgrimage to Scilly. You could say I lead a double life in Scilly and this alternative life has always been superior to my home life, though slightly less so in recent years thanks to some top notch blokes. Just when I had my lowest point at school with bullying/lack of friends my time in Scilly was wonderful, filled with vibrant play and joyous childishness, and my relationship with it is so firmly cemented that the idea of having my birthday at home this year (we come home the day before), having had 20 previous on the island, makes me feel accutely sad. Like I've somehow let myself down.
And so it is that at this time of year I'm saying goodbye to the summer, thunderstorms, and the Scillies, seems so long to wait for it to come around again. It's at least another month to go before I can welcome the other things I love, christmas and snow. And I think it's somewhat little coincidence that Scilly, Christmas and snow all have the same effect on me. They all make me feel like I'm seven years old.
So I sit here in what I'd describe as the grey blobby time of year. Everything generally slides downhill and I think I slide downhill with it not able to find branches to grab onto. I just kinda keep going and going until I realise I'm actually sledging and the white fluffy stuff appears on the weather. Weird I know but it makes me feel ace when it happens.
Is this what gets to everyone else? Is this seasonal affective disorder? I shouldn't think so in my case. I just think I need to see a few new faces. Wend was right to point out that I'm finding life pretty monotonous at the moment though I think this is effect rather than cause. I feel that a change might do me good. Actually doing some work for uni would probably be quite effective!
If not feeling childish is so pants then I can see why I microwave my cereal. As things are going I can start to feel the sledge developing beneath me. It can only be so long before that all important white dung shows its face and I whoop with joy. Simple things please simple minds (or childish things please childish minds) and my mind will shortly be amused and return to normal service. Farewell for now chummies.
