Come Clarity

Do you ever just wish you can turn your brain off?

And no, I don't mean kill your brain.

Spoiler warning - I'm going to sound like some hideously pathetic child in this post. Another spoiler warning - I'm probably not going to make sense. What joy.

About two days ago, I was doing something. It doesn't really matter what I was doing: I could have been just playing around on the computer, I could have been arm wrestling baby chickens. All that matters is that I was doing something.

When I was doing something, I was thinking about stuff. Nothing major, probably just thinking about the thing I was doing.

But then, because I was thinking, my thoughts began to go into a different direction. My thoughts went from whatever menial task that I was doing, to thoughts about how I'm doing shit at what I was doing, which in turn made me think about the past, either about what I did or what I didn't do. Then, I thought about how my life would have changed now if I made different decisions back in the day, then thoughts came about how I'm going to die in the future, which made me think about the whole Mayan prophecy bullshit.

And that's how I ended up watching videos from a NASA scientist and reading things that explained why the whole December 21st 2012 thing was a hoax.

Off topic, but I don't believe in it. I just despise the fact that people both make doomsday predictions and believe them. I mean, we're humans living on the knife edge of existence as it is, it's a miracle how we're still alive as a species. So, if that's the case, why do people not celebrate life and its diversity and instead wonder on how it will end?

Ah, the world's kind of fucked up.

Anyway. It took about two hours for me to be doing things and thinking about what I was doing to reading about 2012. It took me two more hours or so to stop looking into it. It ended in me saying fuck it and putting my Mac down to just try to not think, which didn't work, so I just played a bit of Pokemon.

It was the same today. I was in work, looking for things to do, but then I started to feel weird. Not ill, not anything emotional either, just... weird. I then thought that I'd read some technology news to try to stop me thinking, which then landed me in a pile of news about the Census and the Welsh language, which made me think about my use of the Welsh language, then after more thinking about more idiotic things I ended on the subject of my friends, thinking about different things like who do I really consider a friend, and if in turn they consider me as one.

Now, it may come as a surprise to you, but I've been told that I think too much. Seems as if people don't understand why I think too much. Which is fair enough, since they don't think the same as I do.

Ever since I was young, I was thinking. Maybe not to the degree I am now, but I was thinking. I'm not saying I was an amateur theologist or whatever, contemplating life's wonders and shit like that. It's just that, when you're not from a well-off family and not a social butterfly, the only real way to keep your brain active is by thinking, whether it's making up scenes or just thinking about how others may perceive you.

I've also been told by a few that I need to stop thinking, to stop over-analyzing little things. But I have no idea how. It's like my brain hates inactivity, all it wants to do is work, whether that is thinking about tasks, mathematical and scientific questions, memorising things or just plain thinking about my life and how it affects everyone else's.

I honestly have no idea what I was trying to accomplish with this post. Maybe I'm just trying to figure out myself, to wonder why I've become such an arsewipe of a person.

Before I go, I'd like to share a song. It's only in the past two months that I've rediscovered In Flames. When in work, I decided to play their songs while setting up a photography shoot, and I fell in love with their songs. In particular, this one.



That's it for now.

- I want you to lead me, take me somewhere, don't want to live in a FIN one more day.

Forever In Debt To Your Priceless Advice.

Well hello there. Again.

I've just had a comment on one of my videos... and I, and I quote, 'ruined a perfectly good song', while addind 'ur gay'.

Happy days, eh?

Anybeatle, how is thou today?

Well, I'm just struggling to understand why everyone seems to be interested about Tiger Woods' private life. So what if he had affairs? It doesn't mean that the world has to grind to a hault just because he got his balls in the deep stuff (one of the many golf related innuendos that I have heard).

Not only that, the logo designers have even gotten onto the bandwaggon.

Look...



I dunno why, but even though I found that image rather funny, I found it a tad harsh. I mean, get off his back. There are other peole in the world who've done so much worse. Jesus man, it's a shite world when Tiger Woods and his affairs beats a death of a soldier in the Afgan war as the top story in the news...

So yeah. In other news. I've discovered that I should never attend another party. Ever.

Why? Because every one I've been to (well, the three I've been to), I've done the same thing, which is sit (or stand, for the first one) around doing nothing of worth. At least in the most recent one (which was Gazzard's birthday party, and also happy birthday for today dude!). I just felt like a prick, just sitting there. Yep, I'm have problems being social full stop. =).

Like today, Lowri (my sister, who's studying BA Acting in Trinity Collage in Carmarthen) came home for the weekend. We had dinner downstairs. I just felt pissing awkward. I mean, everyone (well, my parents and Lowri) were talking about something, and all I did was look down at the floor, trying to eat my food as fast as I can. I mean, how sad is that?... That's a reason why I ain't looking forward to University life...

In other news, I've started doing the one thing I haven't done on Guitar Hero... sing. And, is being able to do a song on Hard any good? Even though if it's a real simple song?..... =).

Also, I've been making some basslines on... well... my bass. I keep doing slap bass though. So that means, like my latest song that I came up with also states, if I write anymore slap bass songs then I'll need to get a new thumb. Thing is, they kind of sound the same as every other bass thing that I've done. Lord, have mercy if I actually record these songs.

I'm going to bugger off now.

Goodbye.

- Fin Finity, Fin Finity, Fin Fin Firro.

This Is My Disease...

I should begin with a congratulatory... er, congratulations.... if that's possible.

You are reading... my fiftieth blog post.

This pretty much solidifies the fact that I do have less of a life than someone that has the same characteristics as me but less of them.

So, how does it feel?

Well, it's not a good week so far.

Why?

Frankie Boyle, has left Mock The Week.

*engages shocked face*.

Ah well, no more rasist Scottish dude... maybe there'll be a Welshie person now... oh yeah the new series will be in January (I believe), which is sooner than it should... Woop.

Ah well, someone else shall be the possessor of the racist door.

In other news... Music Technology's going (hopefully) well. If only the Fostex (the multitrack recorder that the school has... unfortunately) didn't break with feeble ease. I mean, pressing the on button once, and it breaks? What's up with that? Ah well, pretty well began with all three tracks. Got's myself a vocal line for the poem, though nothing else so far. The ideas I have change with nearly every song I hear. Example, I hear a Rise Against song... and I have an idea, then the next song, say by Muse, and I forget the first idea and get a new one. This has happened frequently ever since the vocals have been thaught out (which are based upon a Rise Against song). Ah well.

Recordin-wise, so far only recorded the drums. Since there's a double lesson tomorrow, I might be able to add either the electric guitar or the bass. Then the Blondie song's halfway through doing. Only problem I can find is the fact that I haven't got the sounds on that song on my laptop... ah I'll find a way.

Chemistry and Physics have recently picked up, for some reason. We had a test in Chemistry this morning, and I found it alright (considering I only have a basic grasp on the work we're going through now). Same with Physics too, apart that we have had not had a test... that I know of...

Er... just watched a scene on Coronation Street (yeah, sad I know)... nad had another 'shit...' moment. Ah well, anyone got an idea how to get rid of these thaughts?

So yeah... that nearly concludes the fiftieth post... roll on the seventy-fifth... hopefully that won't be before Christmas. If it happens, then you may hack into my account, and change the name of this blog to something about kestrils.

Ah well.

Before I go...



Got to love Rise Against.

- Fin... DOT COM.

Post 2.... Plus 45.

Yeah, I've overplayed Song 2 on drums (97% on Expert drums, fuck aye with a coating of loneliness).

So, how are you these days? Any good?

Well, it's the weekend, and nearly the end of September. Well, there's a week left sort of, but meh. October will be less Rocktober, more (being a)Cocktober. Don't ask why, simply 'cause I don't know yet. Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner, that I love London so.... Sorry, broke into random singage there. Pity that I can't sing. When I do I just sound like a ten year old boy whose recently been told that Santa isn't real (disclaimer, believe what you want on this debate, I think he's a bit like Jesus... or maybe is Jesus... that'll be a turn up for the books, ya?), high pitched, shakey and with a hint of unnatural decay. Or something or nothing.

Besides, I know this because I tried to see if my microphone (from Gutar Hero World Tour... don't hate me) worked on my laptop (even though it doesn't work on any Guitar Hero game now). I opened up a program (oh, a slight hint of mistery there... what in God's unknown name is it?) and I recorded like, twenty seconds of myself. All I can say is this... there's a reason why I stay home and blog my life away. I've noticed how feeble my voice sounds. How cheesily annoying it is. Ha, I thaught my voice sounded high to me, but then that recording... thank Bill Gates for the creation of the Recycle Bin (on PC's, anyways).

So yeah, the mic works fine on my laptop, yet not at all on Guitar Hero. Explain?

Nah, you don't have to.

But yes, this is my fourty-seventh blog post. Fancy getting me a present once I hit the big five-ough? Nah, you don't have to... but an e-cookie would be nice... =).

And, thanks to sone of my friends who keeps reminding me on how far away her birthday is, I know how far my birthday is... sadly. In five weeks. Joy. I've tried to make sure that nobody remembers my birthday, for many reasons. The main one is because it's just another day to me. Simple as. I mean, I don't have a celebration for when I turn one month older, did I? I'm not going to celebrate the fact I'm seventeen and eleven months next month, eh? So why bother celebrating an annual thing? Yeah, I thaught nobody'll understand this... so anyways.

I'm going to apollogise for the, lets just say, the injection of the drug known to us as patheticilin that has entered my blogging system. For some reason my mind has not allowed me to see anything apart from death, sadness and playing Sultains Of Swing on Guitar Hero. But yeah, sorry bruv. =).

In other news. I've got myself a new blues thing going on on the bass. And it uses slap techniques. Fuck aye. Also, I learned a new scale. Yeah, no prize for guessing which one (yeah, 'tis the blues scale). Well, I think I've learned that scale. At least on the bass I have. Ah well, that's four out of only enter-name-of-your-religious-being-here knows.

Meh, I think I should end it here. The post, I mean.

Is it just me, or are my posts becoming shorter? Well, I suppose that's good news for you, you can now watch the X Factor for the seventeenth time in the matter of two days thanks to the joys of ITV.

Anydice. Bye bye, ye olde companion of thy journey to bloggage paradise.

- Fiiiigaro figaro figaro figaro figaro figaro figaro fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigaro. Oh yeah, and Fin.

Reasons... "Why" Is The Only Word With No Vowels.

I believe it is, anyways.

Y'know, the fact that all vowels are a, e, i, o and u, so technically, y's the other thing.

Oh, this is just so I can boost the 'Reasons...' group of posts. Sorry to deprive you for time...

Anyturnip. It's a Wednesday. Coincidently, tomorrow's a Thursday, and the begining of the week countdown to the first Parti Bondio of the year. Yeah, you've guessed that I'm not going to go.

There's no point really. I don't drink. Don't dance. So, in a party situation, I'm the broken pensil of the group. This is also the time I rather dread the fact that everyone'll talk about the party (well, next Friday, after the party happened). Y'know, most of the blokes will brag about how much booze they downed in two hours and still managed to headbang to S Club 7. Many other people just repeating the same phrases for the next four weeks... oh, I was sooooo drunk that night, or I hope there's another one soon, I wanna get pissed again. Them only being two of the infinite quotes from the people who went.

Laughing. A bit like this... AHAHAHAHAHA THAT WAS AN EPIC FAIL AFTER HE DRANK THAT CIDER. Or something along those lines. I'll be just looking around at different people, with a dim smile on my face, having no real interest on the goings on of the previous night...

Yeah... such a happy aura for this post.... anyways...

I'm not saying they shouldn't orginize these things. Nor am I trying to tell people how to lead their lives. I'm just going to say this, just because you've downed a bottlesworth of vodka, or someone tipped Guinness onto your brand new top that you baught specially for that night. And for the fact that I don't drink...

Come on... it's fun when you're drunk!!

Sorry, I can't see how being so pissed that you fall down on the pavement and sleep. Well yes, that doesn't really happen in these things, well not to my knowledge anyways. I simply cannot see how a beverage that destroys so many people in this world can make a night amazing. Maybe I'm being overdramatic in this subject (well, I can't think of a better word than overdramatic), but the only thing I can do, while the matter of alcahol is on the agenda, is think of all the negative scenes that are implanted in my head...

Y'know the ones... one person making a complete arse of themselves. While others are getting it on with people they've always detested (say, as an example, someone sees the closet gay ruthlessly snogging the well known male homaphobe). Not to mention some people who take it too far, and either get sent to the cells for the night, pass out or worse. Or, what I believe what I'll be if I ever had a drink, the extremely depressing drunk who drowns his thoughts and money.

'Cause, correct me if I'm worng, alcahol has a boosting effect on the body. And I know, that naturally, I'm more on the negative side than the positive. With alcahol, that negativeness will grow with every drink I consume. Also, there's been an image stuck in my head ever since I was young.

In that image, I saw myself. I had messy, short hair, while wearing old, scruffy clothes that looked like they were found in a skip (or baught in ASDA, up to you where like). Holes in my shoes, just sitting on a wooden stool, drinking the money I managed to get somehow. Basically, a total mess. I can't avoid this thaught. The more I think about it, the more detail is there, and the more hope I have that the image of such vomit-inducing nature will never be a reality. You're probably thinking that I have an odd way at looking at life. Well yeah, I do. And I'm glad I do. So I'm in the minority (in school, anyways) that doesn't want to drink. Joy to the world in the fact that there is a minority. If that sentence even makes sense.

Anyways, in other news. Muse's new album has been leaked online a week before its official release. But then again, I don't think there's any album these days that hasn't been leaked in one way or another. Either they've placed the full album on their site, forgeting that many know how to stream and save the audio files. Or someone's managed to get a copy of the CD, and shared it with the world. How much d'you want to bet Paramore's new album's going to be leaked online...

And lo and behold. Time has become the old enemy once more, and I must leave you with a riddle. What will happen when Pinocchio says my nose will grow?

Yeah...

- Fin. Ish.

Who Wants To Be A Millionair? I Don't.

... Well, not now anyways.

Well, first post since placing my foot on the thirteenth step of schooldom (yeah, I should start calling it 'last year of school' instead). And it's my fourtieth post. In roughly a year. Man, that's not looking good for the size of this blog in ten years...

This time, my post title has something to do with my topic. In some place, a worker stole thirty quid out of the till. Everyone in my family's going 'oh no, such a shame! They should sack her'... and that sort of shizzle.

And I'm like...


And?

And now I expect you to look at me, and think I cannot believe you'd say such a thing? Do you want this type of thing to happen regulary? Is that what you want? Do you want workers, thieving stock and the day's takings and then going down the road to break into MY HOUSE to steal my collection of horses heads whilst violating my Midrid? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT??...

Well, not like that.... but I will say, Russell Howard is one of the best people there on Mack The Week....

I have a good reason for just thinking And?...

I don't know about you, but there's more to life than money. The warefare of others, like my Mildrid not being violated, is basically it, really. I thaught there'd be more to it. But since I've started writing this paragragh, it's just gone blank. It's like, money's turned into something that some people might think is more important than life itself. Yeah, money's important to buy enough food to eat, to repair the damage that's happened to your house and so on and so forth. But when you've gone so low as to steal money? Seriously?

It's like when you go overdrawn in the bank (okay. it's not really related, but it's true), by a mere three pounds. The bank will jump on that and slap another thirty quid for you to pay as a charge. I mean, WHY? You're (I'm talking to the bank people here) charging people when ,sometimes, they can't pay you back. What has humanity turned to, when someone makes their fellow men once they've gotten into a bit of trouble financially? Ah, fuck it... Well, that's what the bank's did...

But yeah, that's basically it really about that. Some money got thefted. I think that life's more important than money. Which the courts don't, like for murder you can get sentanced for like fifteen years. While bank robbery gets you over forty years inprisonment.

WHAT?

ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?


.....

Anymillenium, I'll get off the subject of money... well not totally...

And I shall start with one word... in bold.

FUCK AYE!!

Well, when I said it, it sounded like one word...

The bastardly bitchfest that goes by the bland name of Big Brother finally got it's bubble burst by Channel Four. I mean, it's a victory for the people who don't understand why stalking has become so publicised. Like, for ten years, some people didn't have to carry a ladder everywhere and climb it to watch some people they're never met sleep. We just had Big Brother for that. I've never understood why watching three people scream at eachother about the fact that one of them had the last pack of Wotsits was so watchable. Maybe I should post videos of myself, scratching my arse and talking to myself on YouTube. Would you find that exciting? Thaught not.

Whatev's.

Well, I should go. The X Factor's going to come on soo, and I have to think of things to do while it's on to avoid it.

Se you, dude.

- Fin.

This Could Be The Start Of Something Beautiful Baby...

Ha. Fat chance.

And yes, technically, this'll be my second post of the day (as of when I've started writing this post), but since I actually wrote the last post late last night (like, twenty four hours ago?...), I'm free to blog once more due to the fact that I've got nothing really to do apart from waste my time, as always, on this bitch of a blog.

Oh, I guessed kind of right, thirty plus posts before September. Actually clocked in at thirty-four before Autumn entered into the hearts of us all. Since there's probably going to be less posts now that I'll be in school now, I'd guess no less than twenty more posts before Christmas. Lets hope, for your sake, it's less than that...

So... what up, dog?...

Oh, if you've been devoured into this thing called Twitter, then I'd like to hear your views on my new background for it. It's not spectacular. Nor is it not shite. But it actually looks much better on Safari than it does on FireFox. It even looks better in Opera. Shock horror. Ah well, it's only a design, right?

I have, just to let you into my sleeping habits, managed to sleep rather good these past few days. If good means that you stay up 'til two playing Solitair on your iPod, then waking up at ten to play on Rock Band...

Oh! Sacrilege!

That game that shall not be named..... HAS BEEN NAMED!!!

Sorry. Felt like adding some drama into this drivel I call a blog.

Anyways, if you have me as a contact on MSN, or as a friend on XBox Live (guess my GamerTag... I dare you...). But alas, I have managed to find peace, where I can live free, love free, and play both Guitar Hero and Rock Band and not be bias towards one or the other. Such harmony, I have found in my life... Well, not yet anyways.

Talk like Yoda, I might start to do. But what would 'laugh out loud' be in text speak...

OLIL?.... Er, that should've been out loud, I laugh...

And as I watch virtual tumbleweed drifting past my address bar, I shall continue...

But seriously, I'd love if people would do text speak, yoda style...

Back to the blog in hand... or computer monitor, for you... y'know.... grrrrr.

Yeah, I've only got Rock Band 2, and the free downloaded songs available. That game holds my, let's just say... guilty pleasures... C'mon, everyone has some. Though I believe it's more "I like Slayer, though I endulge in a bit of BoyZone now and again". And no, that's not me. Capiche?

How do you spell that word?...

Anycarrot, I've kind of lost interest in finishing this blog, because I know if I stay on my laptop late at night that I cannot sleep until it's time for me to wake up the next day. Ah well.

And on the final note... B flat...

- Fin, or should I say, phin...

And Here I Go Again...

Yeah, if you read the last post... when I said that I had an odd feeling to write something about death... well here it is. I'm going to open up the can-o'-beans that is my head. Lucky, lucky you. Lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, clucky, clucky, cluck, cluck... er... sorry, I just remembered that scene from Blackadder III.

Anyways. Where to start...

Well, I remember I said something about it before, though it was mostly about religion, not death itself...

Well (again), I'm seventeen, going on eighteen (...shit)... and as I approach this milestone, I'm genuinely scared of what the future has in store with me. Not only that, as I'm sitting here, typing these words that will last much longer than I will (unless BlogSpot goes under administration), I realise, maybe more than others my age, of my mortality. The fact that I, one Gareth Aled John, will die. Even as I wrote that sencetence (and as I misspelled that word again), I don't want to accept it.

I mean, other's my age are care free, probably the only bad thing they think of is if they fail they're exams or if they won't get into university (yeah, both linked to me). With me, it's the little known fact that I will cease to exist in a matter of years, weeks, or even maybe seconds. Like, it's a guess, but when you were young (say, five, six, roughtly that age), you were playing around, saying stuff like 'I wanna live forever woooo' or something like that. Me? All I remember going was 'I don't want to die!'. Me, aged six, crying into my sister's arms, repeating the same five words over and over again. All that was about was the BBC News said the Solar System would end in a small hiccup, rather than it's big bang entry.

It's the same now. I was in bed, roughly twelve-ish. I was just lying there. It hit me that I wouldn't be here forever. I just panicked. Jumping out of bed, saying 'No. NO!'. And for some reason, I broke down slightly, shedding a few tears (which, I know, sounds pathetic). I tried to return to sleep, but everytime I closed my eyes for a few mere seconds made me fall I was getting closer to my final destination. So, I ended up watching the whole first series of Little Britain. Though, my tiredness had overridden my thaughts, thus making me sleep through Jeremy Kyle and my tea froze. Also it made my next three nights be a short sleep.

I know why I'm like this. Well, I think I know... it's like when I typed 'I, Gareth Aled John, will die', I just felt like I was a number. Nobody'll take notice at the fact that I would've met my maker (as a guess, I think it's Aldi). Or if people do notice, there'd be a few tears shed for the sake of the occasion. But there's nothing that'll put me in the future's mindset.

If that doesn't make sense, I'll try to make sense of it. It's like, look at everything around you. Your computer screen. Your top, socks, trousers. Your walls, your ceiling, your floor. Anything. Everything you've looked at. All that will last longer than you will. It's true. Well, most of it. I mean that cup of tea that I wasted didn't last longer than me, it went down the toilet, but the cup might. Anyways, that cupboard that's holding most of your belongings will be there, and maybe in some fifty years, there'd be a futuristic Antiques Roadshow, and that dude'll tell the antiques dealer 'oh, not sure who was the first owner is'. See? You'll be 'the first owner'. Some guy (or girl). A pile of skin and bones, wasting away whilst the memory of you disappeared by the time your grandchildren become grandparents. Then all you'd be is someone's great-great-great-great grandad. No-one'll remember your name. And I don't know about you, but I don't want that to happen. It might sound that I'm turning into some egotistical person, but I don't want to end up dead, with nothing to show for it.

Saying that, in my head it'l like a double edged sword. I want to be remembered in years after the inevitable (spelling?), but I don't want to become famous for it. I don't want to be in the mainstream, where everything I do, everyway I turn, is in the eyes of Big Brother and his ten cats. But, as I feel the reality of is seems to show me so harshly, it seems that the only way to even think of having a memory after death is to become famous. Take Marily Monroe. Would she have a long lasting memory if she didn't do the things she done? I don't know what exactly, I think she was an actress. But the mere fact that I know what she looks like, though I've never met her... it must show something about her impact of the world (well, not impact, y'know what I mean)...

Wuthering Heights is on ITV1 at the moment. Cathy's just died. Heathcliff found out and basically broke down. At least that's what I think's going on. Just to let you know.

Anyways. Since I won't be around when I die, I don't really know why I want to be remembered so badly when I go. Maybe I want to feel like I've done something worth remembering. And what have I done so far? Created a blog with thrity-six posts and participated in three cricket matches, in which I managed only five runs while batting, and three wickets while bowling. Oh, don't forget the whole 'took art for AS level and got kicked out of it when there was a week left until the coursework was supposed to be in by' thing. Oh, it must've been hilairious for some people when I finally got the shove. Ah well, who gives a shit.

Ah well... I should leave it there before I go nuts... but before I go... I have one question... what would Jesus do?...



Sorry, I love Outnumbered... =).

- Fin.

"I Walked All The Way To Bangor, But She Wasn't There..."

Er.... if you don't get the title, say it out loud... that's all I can say.

It was either that, or 'Needless Ensemenation'. Your choice....

Anyhill. Fiddle me this and riddle me that, I shall carry on like a failed writer, as I am... I mean, too many comma's in one sentance, if you ask me... also I've just notice I don't really know if you spell it 'sentance' or 'sentence'. Help much?...

Tonight's topics... oh yeah, it's the night. Go figure.

First topic. Football. I'm not really a fan of football, but I know a simple rule that is more true than Noah's Arc... Ahem. There's one rule in football. Fuck, any sport. That thing is this = 'long term consistancy equals success'.

What do I mean?

Take Cardiff and Swansea (football, now). Cardiff (I believe, I say again that I'm not an avid fan of football), have had the same manager and (more or less) the same coaching team for ages now, and so far this season they're doing rather good (I believe won every game?). Now, Swansea, under Martinez (name right?...), managed not only to gain promotion to the first league, but to end up at the top half in the first year in league one. Then, once Martinez left, so far this year they've been a bigger flop than a limp pornstar. Why? No long term consistency...

As much as I hate saying it... take Manchester United. Ferguson's been there for a shaite-long time, and where has it taken him? More silverwear than a magpie can handle. And take Scolari's time at Chelsea. Just because he didn't reach the expectations of the Chelsea Board in the first four-or-so months, they sacked him. That's one reason why Chelsea won't be a major hitter in English football long-term. They demand perfect performances in the short term, and if you can't deliver, you'll deliver the shopping for old pensioners until you lose the ability to grow hair. Mouriniho was one of the best modern managers Chelsea had, I can't remember why he left. Though, I would've done anything in my power to keep him there, at least for another five years... that is if I was on the Chelsea board. Ah well, let's hope the new'un'll stay longer than syphalis does...

Oh, just to add that, I should've wrote 'long term consistancy plus an above average intelligence equals success'. I totally forgot about the US's reign of error, Goerge W. Bush... Ah well.

Next topic. Lodern Mife. Yeah, it'sbasically me having another rant on today's 'celebrity age'. Grrrrr...

Anyroad, since I have AOL, everytime it goes onto the AOL Today page, there's the 'hottest searches' section. Which, I saw, was utter bullshite. I was looking at it, in disbelief, wondering 'how is the murder of someone less important than Jordan and Peter's split?'.

Am I the only person that thinks this? Do you stare, shockingly shocked, everytime you read something that basically says 'Michael Jackson's homicide has more importance in the lives of the world's population than the death and tragedy that has struck some third world country that's been stuck by a natural disaster'? Are you? I mean, FUCK. Yeah, Jackson was someone who brought something new to the mainstream music scene, but I wasn't going 'NO WAY!! OMFGZZ BBZ I'Z TWEETIN DIS SO ALL MY THREE FOLLOWERS CAN READ THIS EPICLOLZZ', I was like 'ah well, at least the sun won't fall on the planet soon'. Oh yeah, that last part of the last sentance was from a song called 'Rockin' Rocks' by Powderfinger. Anyways, I'll carry on with my point... in a NEW PARAGRAGH!! =O.

And here it is. This also enters the whole - and before I say this, I apologise for all textspeak that is overstereotyped...though I wouldn't know, being someone who writes essays in texts - 'WEHN I IS OLDER I'M GONNA BE JUST LYK JORDAN BRITTANIE AND JODIE MARSH COZ THEYRE FAMOUS HAHA LOLAGE'.

Err....

It fills me with dread, not sexual pleasure, if I see Jordan (or Katie Price, meh) on her latest ITV2 show. I believe the new one's about her split with Peter Andre. And I feel myself repeat the same word over and over again in my head...

Food?... Oh sorry, wrong word... the real word is, why? Why doed she publicly go out there (I believe that's the main thing about the public...), and allowing everything to be shown to the world? For the sake of money? Fame? Free boobjobs? Man, I thing that Jordan's New Show was more important that Katona being sacked from doing the Iceland ads for drug sniffage. I mean, to me - and I might sound rather old fasioned here, feck it - Katona's piece of news has more importance for a peice in the news than Jordan's new way of earning money by soaking up more camera lenses than someone who bathes in camera lenses. I'd want to know why Katona was sacked, when she was sacked, what will happen to her (like, is she going to go to rehab to get off the stuff, or something else). Not what Jordan's going to wear in all of her episoded.

And again, old fashioned alert here. Ah, bugger yourself if you think this. I might be, though I do play cricket on the 360, so I'm a bit 'post-modern-old-fashioned-dude'). I can't see what good these so called 'celebrities', like Jordan, Jodie Marsh and them 'glamour girls' are actually doing to the world. I'm not saying they aren't, all I'm saying is that I'm seeing them all spread all over the news/tabloids, most of the time barely clothed, just to stay in the minds of people. I mean, some girls are seeing these 'women', and wanting to do the same thing as they are...

Just to pause there, I put women in the quote things because, they aren't real women, aren't they? They aren't they way they were born. They're just what the tabloids want to have women look like. I mean, not being a pervert here, but I can't see a real point to having breast implants, just for the sake of getting attention. Though, I know of some medical cirumstances when it's acceptable. But when it's there to get more cover stories? Piss off with your plastic boobs and your materialistic views of the world. Women with real boobs are much more superior than you. =).

Also, since I'm on the subject (feck, I'm talking about women again...), what's this fantasy with the public and size zero girls? Not saying 'if your size zero, you have an ugly body', but, if you starve yourself just to fit in some clothes that are the smallest size possible? Seriously, have some fucking food. If you have to have your ribcage revealed everytime your in some ravealing clothing. Give up, you'd look twice as better in the natural size for you than you'd be if you starve yourself. Though, some girls are naturally thin, and it suits them. I mean, it'll look really odd if some girls who are usually size six, eight (I'm guessing here) end up as morbidly obiese. Also, if you're like, size eighteen, twenty or above, that doesn't label you as 'big ugly fatty'. Grrrr. Personally I'd prefer a girl with curves than one with no figure at all... bloody hell.

By the by, no I'm not saying that just to get on the good side of the female's thaughts, I'm just saying what I think... and since posting on my blog's the only time I do it, then so be it. Sorry for all you readers (the whole one and a half of you... the half being the moth upon the other readers computer screen as that person reads it).

And as well, (oh feck, he's off on one again)... I hate the fact that programs like PhotoShop, are being used to 'touch up' girls in a way to make them look totally different than they should look like. and yeah, I use PhotoShop, though I've only airbrushed an image once, and that was to see how it worked (all I did was chance the colour of both eyes and air on some random image). Yeah, sometimes it's good to erase some mishaps - maybe some mascarra had run, or the lipstick faded or some other make-up mishap), then yeah, correct it, if that's all you correct. There's some images when the editor erased the fucking belly button of a girl (which was supposed to look like a natural image... hence the fact that the belly button should be there... unless women don't have belly buttons...). I mean, how stupid can you get? Maybe I've still got an old fashioned view on the world. Y'know the one, where what you see is what you get. Where natural is better than fake. That sort of thing.

But, then I think. Why? Again, I think that three letter word. Acually, is why the only word that has no vowels? Anyby, I write all of this, but to no avail. Story of my life, really. I say all thing like 'I hate the modern way of life', 'I'm going to do something worth remembering with my life', or 'right, I'm going to make myself a pizza'. Yet, I do nothing with it. I don't go out in the real world, and work all the way to my goals (oh yeah, I'll just order the pizza from Domino's), I just possess this world of digicality, taking up space of the interweb, just to fill up the time before I go out to see friends and not think to myself 'Jesus, Ga. You're a fucking loner, eh?', and that's the censored version...

Ah well. Feck it all.

Father Ted's awesome, by the ways.

- Fin, and then some.

The World Is A Vampire...

Three days to go...

Stage two - Mad Dog.

Yeah, I wasn't lying when I said I'll post everyday this week... =).

What did I do today? Fuck all, to be fair. The only lesson I had was double Music Technology, which was more eventful than finding Jesus on the fifty pence piece. Apart from someone (...) giving me jip just 'cause I play my bass/guitar rather low compared to everyone else. Really, will it kill him? No. So, why complain? Ah well, shaite like that happens.

Other than that, everything was a normal day at the office. Apart from fourth lesson the one's from art found a toy called Mad Dog (ah, I just remembered Mad Dog's on GTA:San Andreas...). It amused them for like, quarter of an hour? Bloody hell. Then it was a Nintendo DSi (the one with the camera, is that called the DSi?...) that occupied their attention. Then the rest is the same as always. Went out for food, sat around listening to other people's conversations while talking rarely, thinking way too much, and sitting down in a way that made me look like I was about to give birth to an elephant. Last lesson was alright on the whole, was back up in Music, it was. Just fucked around on the guitars and piano/keyboard with no amps. I know, I'm surprised too. Well, I like acoustic sounds. I hardly ever use the amp in my room (it's a really small bass amp... happy days). To me, an electric guitar played acousticaly has a cool sound to it....

One thing that's bothering me is... grrr. On the bus home, for most of it, all I could think of is the thing that happened three months ago. I have no idea why though. Am I jealous? Am I paranoid? Am I in need of a brain transplant? The answer to the last one is a definate yes. Not so sure of the other two though. I hope I'm not. Though, as ever with me, there's a good possibility that I have those bad characteristics cemented forever in my name. Bloody hell. Wish I could actually talk about it and not feel like I usually do... grrrrr.

Once again, the rain is falling, falling, oh ever falling from the patchy quilt we call the sky like... er, well, rain falling from the sky... yeah, that's the sort of skills that got me a C in English Literature. Fuck aye.

Well. I have a feeling tomorrow's post will be called Sold Out, or some insanely boring title like that.

Oh, before I go.... watch this. He's an amazing bassist. Not a bad singer either. =).




- Fin.

Blank Page.

Well, at least you wish it was...

I've already posted more posts than last year. I think this'll be my tenth this year. So I'm guessing there's going to be at least thirty by the time September arrives. Lucky, lucky you...

Well, there's nothing really to this post. This is just basically talking to myself via the internet. That said, I haven't had a full blown conversation on any instant messenger service or social networking sites for about three, four months now. Most probably longer. Fuck it. And talking about fucking it...

There's an advert on now for Match.com, saying that there is too many 'hot new women', and they need more men to balance the levels out. To be fair, how many 'hot new women/men' do you expect from a bloody internet dating agency? If they were hot, fit, whatever you moderners call it these days, wouldn't they either have a partner, or actually go outside to find someone? I've never been on any type of dating site (I'd get the moderators banning me for being a prick most probably), but wouldn't they be filled with sad, pathetic loners that are too lazy to meet new people? I don't know, I just don't understand those type of sites... Actually this links good with my next thing I just thought of...

Facebook. Recently I have greatly started to hate it. This is for many reasons. Actually this is not just Facebook, it's to all social networking sites... and MSN....

Well, the main reason is that, well it's pretty awkward for me to describe it really... I'll just have to put it hazily, if that's a word... In school, or if I actually went out to places, I'm more than happy to see some people, even if I don't look happy. I could look like half of my face is frozen, no emotion, yet inside I could think 'Woo'. Yes, I would be THAT ecstatic. But yet, the moment I see that they are on some site, I just feel all wrong. Not because I'd rather bury my face in sulfuric acid than talk to them online, it's because I know that (most probably), they feel that way towards me. Either because I annoy them too much for multiple reasons (my crap guitar/bass/drum playing, or I go on about GH too much, or the fact that I just come up with things they don't like), or they just can't stand me. Don't ask me why I think like this, well, at least not on here. Maybe it's something to do with what happened like a year ago. But then I think, why should it? Ah well. Life's a bitch, I guess...

Another thing I'm not fussed about these sites is, those pathetic pictures where someone tags people on who they think people are in a group of friends. It's just annoying. I've somehow managed to be tagged in these things... not sure if I should be happy or nappy (y'know, not happy...). In one, I'm 'the crazy fuck', in another, 'the downer', and then 'the one that's up to no good' (off memory, like). As you can see, there wasn't the one they really wanted to put me as, either 'the emo in denial' (which, I am not either emo or in denial), 'the one who asks randomly pointless questions', or 'most likely to die a virgin'. Ah, such happiness. I'm also waiting for a political one. With people from parliment on there, and I bet someone'll tag me as Gordon Brown or someone from the BNP....

Also, the bloody status updates. Why? The only time I've updated my status is to tell people of my blog, yet not sure if anyone actually has read it. I'm only sure that one person has read two of my posts (because he's commented on them, thanks RBJ. =)... ). But when someone posts an update just because they've enjoyed their dinner in Nando's or wherever these moderners eat their food, does it really matter? I'm just waiting for one of my friends to post an update saying 'just inhaled from a bong. t'wasn't weed, was actually a peanut butter sarnie, it was nuts, lol'. Grr. And another thing....

Fucking 'lol'. And 'rofl'. They fucking lie all the time. No, you aren't 'rofl'ing if you are typing at that moment. And the fact people actually say these things in real life? It's just to show how socialising has changed. I'm glad texts or any shite modern things weren't in Shakespearian times. Y'know, 'Hey bbz, gonna fake mi deth 2nite lol, 1 way 2 get away from rents, dunt worry ill b up 4 BB l8r rofl'. Guess what play that would've been and you will get free oxigen for a month. Or, what if Lady Macbeth had Twitter... 'Cant get blood off hands, going to use PalmOlive...'. Yes, I have probably gone slightly overboard. But the fact is this, why must we abbreviate every single thing? Lol, rofl, omfg, soad, it's going overboard. And yes, this does make me a hypocrite. I've done it myself, when I use GH instead of Guitar Hero. But I prefer a sentance to be full of words that aren't abbrieviated (and that are spelled properly), I even write numbers as words also. It just seems right. If I am using a mathmatical formulae, then yes, I will use numbers. But if it is online, or writing a number in a sentance, then I will use the word instead. Trash me, I'm not bothered if you do. It's my way of thinking.

I'll finnish soon enough, I've taken up too much space from the internet as it is. My friends are starting bands with eachother/people in their friend circle, yet the bands are either metal or scene (I think anyroad). I too would like to start a band, a punk-esque band, that have GreenDay (Dookie years), Nirvana and bands like those as influences. I don't want to do it for success, money, or anything like that. I just want to try and start something that will produce (hopefully) great music, regardless of if there are lyrics or not. I don't know if I am alone in this, most probably I am. Ah well, if nobody is, I could always try and do something in free lessons in school... well, though we've only got ten days left in that shitehole...

I should piss off now, I've seemed to given you a migrane.

Bye.