The Ghost That Wasn't

I survived.

Indeed, the first Wicid residential has been completed.

As I can tell by your good looks and your beautiful eyes that you read anything that compliments you. So, allow me to elaborate.

It was Friday. It was sunny, and I missed university because I gave in the assignment a day earlier than needed. You did not need to know that. Moving on.

We had our mission, to do some stuff for Wicid. Allocated time? A weekend (that's two days, fact fans). Where? Sealyham Adventure Centre in Pembrokeshire.

Somehow, we actually got to the destination roughly on time. And yes, I am looking at you, Clic's most recent residential up in Anglesey. Argh is indeed the word for the moment.

We arrived, some time not long after the sun went to visit the other side of the world, outside a Georgian house. It was a rather nice house, to be fair, and the surrounding area was rather dark, as it was night. I'm babbling. Forgive me.

After devouring the food that was in front of us, we had the whole "get to know each other" thing, this time we had to say two things that we liked about ourselves. Lovely. Luckily, all I had to say was that I was the sub-editor of Wicid. Talk about easy runnings...

But yeah, we went on a ghost walk thing in the nearby woods, which wasn't that scary. It was a bit unnerving, but the fact was we were in near pitch darkness and I'm not a fan of the dark (not phobia level, I just prefer light than darkness). Luckily, I had a torch on my phone, so I just stood by Craig (Wicid's editor when Cat's away) so he can find his way as he was filming. Well, I'm guessing he didn't want to damage his camera, so y'know, I thought I'd be nice. Ha.

After that, t'was plain sailing. The only other interesting thing after that was a story of Goldilocks told in the style of Stacey Solomon by Ricky Paveltish. Pretty epic story, to be fair.

Next morning, we had stroganoff for breakfast. We didn't, but even if we did I wouldn't have recognised it or had it. I had a roll from my bag. Hardcore isn't even the word for me. Neither is bird. Anyway.

The workshops began. As Craig went out to pick up some spray paints or some weed, we're not entirely sure what, the Detached youth workers began the first workshop, an OCN in creative writing.

Luckily, one of them came up to me saying to me and four other, older members of Wicid "you can sit this out, we actually want you to go around and helping the others". Result.

I went around, not helping anyone. Not by choice, but by the fact that I had no idea about creative writing. Granted, nearly everyone I know says that I can do creative writing because of my Dear World articles, but I can't see them as creative. They are just the stuff I think about and write them down. Ooh, I'm babbling, forgive me.

Later on that day, Crag returned with some spray paints, and with a rather spaced out look about him. The rather large group was split into two groups. One continued with the creative writing workshop, while Craig led the music workshop.

It was a songwriting workshop. He asked me to help out, I was rather rubbish with my attempts to help. I did, on the other hand, think up a riff for a song now. That is all.

So, in all the Clic residentials, there were activities, with the one up in Anglesey being something involving circus stunts and that. This time, we had a choice between high ropes, coast steering and archery. And since I have a thing about both water and heights, it was obvious for me to go to archery.

The walk was long, but to be fair the scenery was epic. When we arrived, and after the instructor told us how to do archery, we had some practice shots. Unfortunately, I didn't kill anyone. Ah well.

I'll be honest, I've always liked the idea of archery. I've always wanted to try it, yet I have failed to try. I didn't think I was going to be good at it, I just thought I'd try.

I stood up to the plate (well, the bow and a piece of wood, but y'know what I mean), picked up the bow, placed the arrow in place, aimed and fired. I hit the board, and not a bad shot with that. I continued, with the next three arrows going close to the first one. None in the bullseye, but no total misses either. Lovely.

After two or three rounds, I stood up once more to the piece of wood. I then asked the instructor something. Can I try it left handed? He allowed me to do so.

And, to the surprise of both of us, I was at near the same level I was doing it right handed. It seems as though I am ambidextrous in archery. I bet you'd give your right hand to say that.

After a few more rounds of hitting balloons with arrows and crisps, we headed back, had nomage and began the next workshop. I still stayed with the music lot, though I was worse than I was in the beginning. I'm rather crap when I need to help people on a subject that I'm not good at. Ah well.

After that went on for a bit longer, dinner was served. For them, it meant lasagna and other foods. For me, it meant a few welshcakes and a ham baguette. Don't ask me why.

The Saturday night ended with a few people watching the Wales game, though I, along with a few other people, went to some room where they had some games and that. After that was some film about a social networking website or something, I don't know. After that, bed. Nice.

It was a rather disappointing residential overall. The place was supposed to be haunted, we were supposed to have heard coughing in the night and feeling like we were pushed down in our beds. It didn't happen. Nobody went missing, which I thought would have happened. Ah well.

It did end on a high. I went with Craig on the way home. We stopped somewhere near Neath to have some food. He then thought it would be funny to tell the girl who served us that "Trevor sent us", referring to the car shop that was near. He insisted that he heard on the radio that if we said that Trevor sent us to McDonald's, they'd give us a free Big Mac. Worth a try, but she was having none of it. Ah well.

Apparently, there's going to be more Wicid residentials. Ah well, maybe they can pick a place that has internet access, eh? Ah well.

- With karate I'll kick your FIN.

Land Of The Green And The Home Of The Sheep

Guess what?

No, not that. Guess again.

No, not that either. Would it be easier for me to just tell you what's what?

Okay then, on Friday I packed my bags and finally left home. To Anglesey. For a weekend. With Clic. Lovely.

It started on Friday. The sun was hidden by clouds, I wore jeans. The coach was what you'd expect from any coach. Though I was rather unsure at first why the driver decided to head back into Rhondda Cynon Taff after picking up our fellow residential dudes from Ebbw Vale and Newport. We had no idea that our journey would last longer than the estimated four hours.

Yes, the pesky sat nav decided to go the scenic route up to the little patch of Wales in the North. The chosen route was also a shroud of deceit on our phones, as for a good section of our journey we had no signal. So much so, that a girl called Jess Preddy and I began to improvise a song about retweeting, with the main lyric being "We need to retweet, why can't we retweet?" Aye, I'm sure we annoyed the living daylights out of our fellow travelers of the South with this song. Ah well, could be worse, we could have stalled a few times. Oh wait, we did.

Unfortunately, it was rather dark once we finally landed on Anglesey soil. So dark, in fact, that the coach driver didn't notice a sign post that said "no wide vehicles" until after we went down that street. Ah well, at least it gave the other members of the Wicid editorial team, along with Sam from theSprout, to sing about the bus travels up in Clic's Got Talent thing that was happening on Saturday night.. Lovely.

As the chickens sang their song in the morning, the day began with breakfast. Then, the young people of Wales were split into five groups. I, along with a few others, ended up in the first group, meaning that I have to sit through the accreditations workshop first, which was rather good. Then, we did the information introductions for Clic in video form in front of a green screen. Though, to be fair, I do think that some people were more interested in the large remote control that was discovered in one of the rooms. Like this one. Nice.

After a little break, the group made their way to banner making, though it was changed to kendo. There were a few matches between the people on the group, though I don't have a clue what possessed Jess to ask Geoff "can me and Gareth have a go?" Before we actually chowed down in bamboo warfare, I was unsure what to do. Though, as we commenced the battle, I wasn't going to let her win. Apparently, I'm really aggressive. Ah well, doesn't matter. All that matters is that I won, which led to this image being taken...

Image via ClicOnline, with slight editing done by yours truly (CrazyDistortion).

Yeah, that's me, doing a jumping attack on Jess' head. How hardcore am I?

Anyway, after a few handful of workshops, some breaks and another handful of workshops, we had Clic's Got Talent, where the name of it says it all.

There were only two different activities in the Clic's Got Talent - singing and dancing. As Sam, the Swoosh girls and others showed us what they've got in the dancing stakes, Paul from Defaid and others sang for the group. To be fair, everyone was well good, it was a relief when someone said that it was just for fun and not a competition.

After that, there was some sleeping done, as it was night by that time. The Sunday was the day of goodbyes, as we left homeward-bound at roughly half eleven in the morning. Again, it took us well over the estimated time for us to get home from Anglesey. We headed into England, further than I imagined. Ah well, the driver dropped the Wicid group at the stop well past seven in the night. Lovely.

As I charged my Mac in the comfort of my own room, I realised that I had an email. It was from Clic's sub-editor, Dan. All it said was "I've driven to Anglesey a few times before. It usually takes this long."

A quote by the bus driver before heading to the depot. Lovely.

So, on the whole, a good residential. Hopefully, there'll be more people from Rhondda Cynon Taff coming to the next one. Oh, and remind me to bring a guitar with me so then I can have a jam with Paul from Defaid. Nice.

- I did my time, and I want FIN.

Foot In Mouth Disease

Over this bank holiday weekend, I was up in Pembroke Dock (that's in Pembrokeshire, fact fans). Why? Because it was those happy days with the people from Clic and the other sites like theSprout, Swoosh and YoungFlintshire. Well, other people went too, from counties that have no site yet, but since they have no site yet, I cannot link them here. Ah well.

But yeah, young people from all over Wales collected in Pembroke Dock to have a residential. This was my third one. the first one being up North Wales, where some people from Newport decided they didn't like me for some reason. The second was in Cardiff Bay, where I was punished with cups. But this was a weird one.

To be fair, I realised my insanity would take over the moment I got out of my father's car to get on the Clic bus, with one of the people who tormented me with the cups of dread from the Cardiff Bay showing me the fact that she brought a cup to this one. Joy. Not only that, an eleven year old girl (I think that's her age) attacked me as we were waiting to pick some other people up.

Yes. I got attacked by a young girl. With plastic forks. Happy days.

But alas, we arrived safely at the place. Nice place, to be fair.

Nothing really happened in that Friday, other than the dreaded icebreakers. I'll be honest, I don't understand icebreakers. I can't really describe some of the icebreakers, or how it made everyone look like they're attending a mental institute (no offence intended to people who have any sort of experience with mental institutes). On the Saturday, we actually got into the whole 'doing stuff for Clic', which went alright. The music activity didn't go well though, as I took my bass and I had no idea what to do over the chords Paul (a guy from Anglesey) played (damn you, capos...). But alas, I figured out what he was playing and just played the bass notes. That's the joys of the bassist, eh?...

So, why have I named this post Foot In Mouth Disease? Well, basically, y'know that young girl who attacked me on the bus on the way to the place with forks, well on that Saturday she decided to attack me again. This time with her feet.

Well, most of the time she was jumping on me and Elin (the cup tormentor from Cardiff), but other times she was messaging my face with her feet. But I think we got away with a little of that girl's evilness, as she was off attacking Dan most of the time.

But yeah, it was an alright residential, to be fair. Also met someone else who is off to the Atrium too. Woop. But yeah, roll on the next one, eh?

Edit - if you are bored or have a fetish for deja-vu, then feel free to read this article that I've written for Clic about the residential. I've added more to that one, so it'll feel more like semi-deja-vu. Happy days...

So, in other news. It's MkI's birthday on Friday. She'll be twenty-five and she wants to go out for food. So, it's a chance for people to watch us eat, and judge us for what we are eating. Not only that, MkII and MkIII are both being baptised in September. MkII one week, MkIII the next. I'll be honest, it seems to me that they are only getting baptised to please their boyfriends and their families. I, in all honesty and sausages, do not want to go to either of these baptisms. I'd feel like a fake. I'd feel like the whole situation is a fake. I'd feel that my sisters are fake.

But, before I go, I'd like to wish Rhys Bowen Jones a happy birthday, as he has finally turned eighteen, right before Sarah Thomas turns nineteen. So yeah, happy birthday for you two dudes. Don't die too soon, yeah? =].

Whoa, there's a load of links in this post, eh?

- Just one cornetto, give it to FIN.

Dead Man Walking

I know. I know. I bring so much happiness in my blog titles...

So, how've you been?

Well, I'm not bad. But, I will tell you, it seems that I'm shaping up better than other people.

If you didn't know by now, tomorrow is the A Level results day (or, as I like to call it, the day of three letters. A day where we, as past key stage fivers, discover if we managed to pass the exams and sail through on the sea of opportunity to the dock of knowledge and wisdom we usually call university.

Some people, like my friend RuhBuhJuh, are panicking over the results. Either losing sleep over their unknown future, or just feeling jittery about the whole situation.

But, for me, and with many a-blog post here...

It's just another day.

I know, I might change my blog tagline to Another day, another failed blogger as I use those same four words in that same order over and over. I've said it about Christmas, about my birthday, and now A level exam results. Okay, some things in my lifetime won't be just another day. I might get married (that is, if I lose all hope in finding a wife normally and end up buying a Russian bride who won't put out until I marry her, only to have her stolen away from me by some Chinese dude who learned to speak Russian for her love... hang on, that's an episode of American Dad...). That wouldn't be just another day. Neither would be the birth of my children (yeah, I thought the same thing...). Or, and I hate to say it, the death of someone close. Other than those potential events, everything else is just another day.

But this post was not supposed to be about me and my never ending use of that four word sentence.

Yes, I am somewhat nervous about what the three letters will turn out to be. All I know is that I have about twenty five percent chance of getting a vowel in my grades, with 99.99% of that quarter being an E or lower. But then again, I can't see myself earning anything over a C grade in my subjects. But these are just my thoughts and predictions for tomorrow.

Tomorrow starts at six in the morning, while others have to wait until the anti-six (ie, nine) before even thinking of having the grades in their hands. Why six? Well, Edexcel (the examination board whose behind giving Rhydfelen the choice of doing Music Technology for an A level) release their exam results at six in the morning.

Six...

Yeah, sure, I'll be up by then. Fuck, I was up at six this morning without anybody calling me. So, chances are that I would be up at about four, five tomorrow. Hey, maybe even earlier. I have no plan for if I stay up all night tonight (other than watching endless shows of the Peep Show, Mitchell And Webb Look and A Bit Of Fry And Laurie). Neither do I know what I will do if I see the grades on the screen to be lower than the C. I'd be kind of gutted, I admit. But, what then? Do I slow-walk to school, further lowering my expectations of what I had in the other subjects?

No idea. But what I do know, is that I'd probably be updating this blog. Not necessarily on this post, bit on a two-for-one post. Either one post on pre-nine-thirty and post-nine-thirty (both are in the morning), or one continuous one, though I would publish the post before I go to school to collect my results. Then I shall update it with the news of the other results and if I got into university.

So... expect tomorrow to be a hectic day for blog posts. I apologise in advance.

I shall leave you now, as there's nothing else I could say. My ankles hurt from walking from a meeting for Wicid yesterday , so I find it hard to play drums a bit. Yeah, my life's a bit dull, yeah? I'm also going on another Clic residential at the end of this month. Such lovely information for you. =].

But yeah, sounds cheesy, but if you are waiting for exam results, I hope your results are what you are hoped for. =].

- I FINished ze blogpost, ya?

Level Complete.

It's done.

Finished.

Wedi ei gwblhau.

C'est finir.

And a lot more ways to say it's done...

Yes, you can tell I'm in that creative mood that makes people want to make babies and eat cheese.

And yes, I have no idea what I am doing.

But one thing's for sure, I have finished school. I have reached a milestone in my life. Thirteen years have past, and I'm none the wiser. Though, I may have completed the level, does not entirely mean that I have passed.

It's like looking down a three chamber barrel of a gun. In one chamber there holds a bullet made of esters and other hydrocarbons. In another, there's a bullet filled with ionized Polonium. In the final one, a bullet that sings through the air and crashes into your heart.

The target? Two B's and a C.

My aim? Three B's.

Anything lower than my target will get me into school for another year (unless I think of another way of arsing through the next years) and be the receiver or all three bullets in a manner of mockery. If I hit my target, the bullets will dissolve in a manner only known to physicists and Australians.

Chances of me hitting that target? A million to one. But, hopefully, I'll be like that song, and still come. And by come, I mean achieve the target.

If you're interested, I have six exams in four months, the first one being on the Seventh of this good month. I already sat the Music Tech resit, and it was good. The only bastard questions was when they asked about how Jimi Hendrix and Van Halen influenced Hard Rock, but I improved it. No idea what I wrote, nor do I want to know. But the matter still stands, I fucked that question up. And we all know that one fucked up question and some minor mistakes equal a big possibility that I won't get anything higher than a B. Sob fucking sob.

I'll inform you on Chemistry and Physics after I sat them. Enter smilie face here...

But, as one thing end, another begins...

Right now, I am on the Clic Residential in Cardiff Bay. I'm in the Urdd Center, I think it's called Gwersyll yr Urdd, but I aren't sure, any Welshies, please correct me. =]. But yeah, Second day, probably going bowling soon. Woopa.

So yeah, that's yesterday and today. I only have to go to school for another six days, kinda odd thought, that. Last time I'll probably see people as well...

That thought kind of freaks me out, mind. I mean, the only sanity I had was the insanity I call my friends in school. But now, the only contact I'll probably have is the odd Facebook chat... ah well. At least I met them, right?

Fuck it, I'm off. I think there's going to be another Workshop in a minute, so better finish up.

- Like school, this post is FIN. Don't judge me on the ending...

Reasons - Why My Ex-Wife Left Me... Part One.

I just realised whatever font I put on as I write, it'll only get overwritten by the preset (which I believe is Tahoma?).

Oh, I'm going to be an arse to your pixel-absorbing eyes. I've thought of a series of blog postings that will end when I actually have a social life. If you haven't guessed yet, they'll be called 'Reasons'.

As you can guess, this first post will be all about the acheivements I, er.... well... achieved... in the past couple of days...

Point One - (se)X Box 360.

Yeah, it's the first point. Why, I hear your online-telepathy skills cry? Well, the first thing is that I meantioned 'achievements' in a sentence or two ago. Secondly, I've been on it much more than I have during school terms. Thridly, I've kinda gone overboard with Guitar Hero. Next point.

Point Two - Guitar Zero.

Yeah, I'm as imaginative with point names as I am with begining of sentences for the points. Anyways, today I completed Guitar Hero: Smash Hits on guitar. Yes, to add to the sadness, it was on expert. In addition, and the (sadly) high point of my day, I completed Raining Blood (by Slayer) AND Through The Fire And Flames (DragonForce-ery) on Expert. Fuck aye and a packet o' crisps. That might mean I have a good chance of doing those songs on Guitar Hero III, once I have a playable disk. But I'll be honest, the versions of Raining Blood and ...Fire And Flames are easier on GH:Smash Hits than on it's older brother. So, is that a hollow victory for me? Knowing not only that I completed them both (four and three stars to their respected songs) on Expert, but the fact that all my friends and everyone reading this will think I'm a sad child with no life?

Now, I believe you're getting why my blog post name is what it is...

Point Three - Breaking News.

If your wondering why it's called that. Let me tell you a little story. You know all about my work experience with ProMo Cymru, right? And that weekend up in Llangollen or some place like that (I'm not being funny when I say that, I just keep forgetting if it's Llangollen, Llandudno or some other place that starts with Llan)? Well, on the final night, we had a task. Y'know the one, when you have to make a parachute thing to help make an egg fall from a great height without it breaking.

All we had ('cause we were in groups, I had a good group, to be fair) was an egg (obvliously), some straws, sticky tape, newspaper, two balloons and the bag that held them all in. I had the odd thaught of sticking the egg into one of the balloons. Someone else thought about sticking the egg-balloon into another balloon. Then someone else thought about the whole interior design of the bag (it was lovely, we had a feature wall and everything). Then, before the drops, we had to think of a name. and bare in mind, during the last workshop all I did was doodle on a peice of paper and think of a shaite opening line for the 'seeking work' section for the Clic website (if you must know, it was 'The journey to your dream job begins with a failed application form'... yeah, it's shaite, I know). They boys who I was in the eggscapade (get it? Escapade? Is that even a proper word?) was thinking of some names, can't remember any really. Maybe 'Da Bomb' was one of them. I just looked at the contraption that we made, and had one thought...

'That's the reason my ex-wife left me'.

They laughed. At me, I guess. Don't blame them.

But, they went with it. And needless to say, the beast was stunned (er... got all Tenacious D on you then...) when we realised our egg was free to become my breakfast on a plate and not on the pavement (I joke, I joke. There weren't any pavements where we were really).

Point Four - On The Road Again...

The last thing to add to this 'Reasons...' post. Recently all I can think of when I try to think of an original riff on the guitar (or bass, don't forget that beast) could be classed as 'middle-of-the-road'. Y'know the type, the type of music Take That or Westlife would write...

Actually, I'll take the Westlife thing back, they don't write anything, all they do is sit on seats, singing. But, you have to give it to them, once the key change comes into play, they do make an impressive move from the seats. But forget Westlife... I wish I could...

But anyways, I just can't seem to get rid of this thing. And no, I don't mean Westlife. Actually, I do, kind of. 'Cause I want to write (good) rock songs, be that grunge, punk, bluesy, or (if it's possible) funk/soul rock. I'm not bothered writing solos, just good riffs that people might (at the least) think is 'not bad, for a beginner'. The only problem is, two or three of the riffs I have made up have this hippie-punk fusion to it, if you know what I mean. I can't write slow songs, and when I do they have a bad dose of Take That-ititus. Any blues riff I think of just sound like a pile of shaite. Er, I think I'm struggling. I may create a new MySpace to show people my 'creations', just because I want to have some feedback on what people like/dislike of my midi babies, and/or for people to hear what I've done, and write lyrics for them (I'd be so luck). I won't make a proper profile though. I'll wait until I actually start a band that'll make some music. Which will hopefully be before I leave secondary education for good. =).

Well, that shall be it for the time being. If you have been offended by anything in this post, then be offended. =). Trust me, there's worse things to bitch about than a simpleton blogging his way to certain critisism for more than his spelling mistakes.

- Fin. =).