Music has always been important in my life. It's one of those things which I can experience to exactly the same extent as everybody else, and I like that, but that's not the point I'm trying to make. There is a piece of music suitable for every ocassion of my life - whether I'm having the best fucking day ever, or if I'm having one of those days when re-splodging the toilet duck thing in my toilet is the highlight of my life.
Anyway. I like music, it's something I rely on a lot, not as much as I used to, but a lot - possibly because it can never disappoint. (I'm not referring to the radio here, merely my own collection of music. Terrible as it is, we get on.) There was a time in my life when music was in fact the most important thing I had, or even the only thing I had. I kind of miss those days.
Sometimes I'd listen to a song and be like, "Yeah, I like that song, it's cool, I wanna learn to play that" and I would. I'd sit down, see if I could figure it out for myself - if I couldn't I'd find it online and piss about until I could play it. There was something incredibly simple and satisfying in it. It was also ridiculously fun, more so considering I was a somewhat moody teenager and got a great amount of pleasure from re-tuning my snare when my parents irritated me. Haha. Oh, to be fourteen again.
When that went to shit I bumped into my Green Day CD's and stayed attached to them for a long, long while - I wont mention anymore on those for I think we all know too much already. Green Day, amongst other bands, provided me with something to do - and indeed became my voice for a good two and a half years until I bumped into my current bunch of friends. Or rather until fleenface bumped into me. Regardless, without music I genuinely would have had nothing (nothing I would have regarded with much importance anyway) between the age of 15 and 17, which I think is kind of scary.
It was a very simple, if not miserable existence; nothing changed, nothing moved on, nothing turned around and slapped me in the face, nothing waited until I turned around and kicked me in the arse. It was simple. And I kind of liked it like that.
Music still does play a crucial part in my life (pun not intended). But when I have my time machine I certainly will enjoy going back to a time when I could play some truly awful things on my shitty drum kit of doom.
Aah. What a lovely, nostalgic post.
In other news I have no fags. I miss fleenface. And my quests on Wow are shite. Overall, I'm not very impressed.
Sunday, 25 April 2010
Thursday, 22 April 2010
Go then, there are other worlds than these..
I want to find a door, just as Jake did.
And when I find it I don't think I'm coming back; unless there's a dead baby stapled to a chicken..
And when I find it I don't think I'm coming back; unless there's a dead baby stapled to a chicken..
Sunday, 11 April 2010
The last month of my life
has been.. interesting?
I believed I was in love with a man. A boy. My firend. Whatever. For a moment of my life I believed I was in love. I refused. Love does bad things to dinosaurs. It screws us over. It's better kept away. And that's cool with me. Dinosaurs are solitary creatures. Being the last remaining dinosaur allows me to create these facts, and I like that, I can define myself and a whole species all at the same time. It's fun. Anyway, I'm straying from the subject. A few weeks ago, I genuinely believed I had fallen into the trap for the second time in my life. I was terrified. I shared this information with nobody, and attempted to keep it away from myself.
After spending a few days with the guy, after having not seen him in over a year, I realised I was wrong. I was in love with the idea of him. With the idea of not being lonley. With the idea of potentially forgetting my many fucked up issues with personal contact. Maybe even with the idea of falling love again. I had fallen in love with an idea. That certainly is a new one.
Maybe I do want to have somebody to share the rest of my life with. I don't know. All I know is currently the part of me who used to win, still does. The part of me adamant to push people away before they choose to leave is still there. I think it might have even grown. I thought it had shurnk, my bad.
Sorry if you're reding this willosaurus, you make a good dinosaur, if I wasn't one I might have even believed you were one.
I'm too fucked up for relationships, because I want to be. At least that's what I tell myself. I might have even convinced myself.
I believed I was in love with a man. A boy. My firend. Whatever. For a moment of my life I believed I was in love. I refused. Love does bad things to dinosaurs. It screws us over. It's better kept away. And that's cool with me. Dinosaurs are solitary creatures. Being the last remaining dinosaur allows me to create these facts, and I like that, I can define myself and a whole species all at the same time. It's fun. Anyway, I'm straying from the subject. A few weeks ago, I genuinely believed I had fallen into the trap for the second time in my life. I was terrified. I shared this information with nobody, and attempted to keep it away from myself.
After spending a few days with the guy, after having not seen him in over a year, I realised I was wrong. I was in love with the idea of him. With the idea of not being lonley. With the idea of potentially forgetting my many fucked up issues with personal contact. Maybe even with the idea of falling love again. I had fallen in love with an idea. That certainly is a new one.
Maybe I do want to have somebody to share the rest of my life with. I don't know. All I know is currently the part of me who used to win, still does. The part of me adamant to push people away before they choose to leave is still there. I think it might have even grown. I thought it had shurnk, my bad.
Sorry if you're reding this willosaurus, you make a good dinosaur, if I wasn't one I might have even believed you were one.
I'm too fucked up for relationships, because I want to be. At least that's what I tell myself. I might have even convinced myself.
Monday, 8 March 2010
Roads to Safe Places
Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need.
First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind's way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.
Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying 'time heals all wounds' is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.
Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.
Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.
Patrick Rothfuss is nothing short of a legend.
Literature makes me happy.
Fiction holds truth, just as madness holds salvation.
First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind's way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.
Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying 'time heals all wounds' is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.
Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.
Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.
Patrick Rothfuss is nothing short of a legend.
Literature makes me happy.
Fiction holds truth, just as madness holds salvation.
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Everyone has a coping mechanism.
What's yours?
And may I temporarily borrow it until I come up with a new one? Mine kinda left me. Or maybe I left it, who knows. Either way, I'm fucked considering that I currently seem to be reverting back into my sixteen year old self.
Ew.
Anyway, Warcraft is calling.
And may I temporarily borrow it until I come up with a new one? Mine kinda left me. Or maybe I left it, who knows. Either way, I'm fucked considering that I currently seem to be reverting back into my sixteen year old self.
Ew.
Anyway, Warcraft is calling.
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
Once again
the dinosaur's life is not going quite as planned.
I don't know why this surprises me, nothing ever goes to plan but there are limits.
I've always told myself I wont let my shoulder dictate my life, I try and get on with stuff. This seems a bit a daft, I know, but it's how I go about attempting to keep myself sane - or at least feeling sane. Normality would be nice, but it's impossible, so instead I attempt to create the illusion of normality - especially when it comes to those who don't know me.
I don't want people to know the full extent of my nerve condition. It only comes with sympathy or disbelief, and these two things have a nasty habit of making me dissolve into a self pitying mass of ick.
This comes with a problem. Particularly when it comes to my university. I miss lectures, inevitably. Some mornings I cannot get myself out of bed, other mornings I get myself out of bed but am unable to remove my t-shirt which I have been wearing for a prolongued period of time. Some mornings showering is too painful - I refuse to go into university smelling like decomposing human i.e. first year student. I am not a first year. I REFUSE to do it to myself, or indeed those around me.
I have been kicked off my module - due to lack of attendance. My lecturer does not understand my nerve condition because a) I look normal, well, when it comes to my shoulder - I do not look physically fucking disabled, b) he thinks I'm a lazy shite - well, I am a student but that's irrelevant and c) I am not willing to explain to him that I am unable to function like a normal human being because I know full well he wouldn't take me seriously. It sounds fucking made up. And I wish it was.
My lecturer is currently experiencing my very rare dinosaur wrath. I am refusing to allow him to kick me off this module. I have done the fucking work. Nearly. It's so nearly done. My deadline isn't for another six weeks. However, not allowing him to kick me off this module is proving diffucult. I keep emailing the bastard - he is very rude and does not reply. So I email him again. And again. I have emailed my course leader - who isn't quite so rude, but she is very unhelpful. I have demanded a meeting with the guy. BUT. He's not replied. And it will mean I have to get to the theatre - this is something that cannot be planned in advance due to my gashy shoulder. Ironic much.
In conclusion. I am fucked.
That is all.
I don't know why this surprises me, nothing ever goes to plan but there are limits.
I've always told myself I wont let my shoulder dictate my life, I try and get on with stuff. This seems a bit a daft, I know, but it's how I go about attempting to keep myself sane - or at least feeling sane. Normality would be nice, but it's impossible, so instead I attempt to create the illusion of normality - especially when it comes to those who don't know me.
I don't want people to know the full extent of my nerve condition. It only comes with sympathy or disbelief, and these two things have a nasty habit of making me dissolve into a self pitying mass of ick.
This comes with a problem. Particularly when it comes to my university. I miss lectures, inevitably. Some mornings I cannot get myself out of bed, other mornings I get myself out of bed but am unable to remove my t-shirt which I have been wearing for a prolongued period of time. Some mornings showering is too painful - I refuse to go into university smelling like decomposing human i.e. first year student. I am not a first year. I REFUSE to do it to myself, or indeed those around me.
I have been kicked off my module - due to lack of attendance. My lecturer does not understand my nerve condition because a) I look normal, well, when it comes to my shoulder - I do not look physically fucking disabled, b) he thinks I'm a lazy shite - well, I am a student but that's irrelevant and c) I am not willing to explain to him that I am unable to function like a normal human being because I know full well he wouldn't take me seriously. It sounds fucking made up. And I wish it was.
My lecturer is currently experiencing my very rare dinosaur wrath. I am refusing to allow him to kick me off this module. I have done the fucking work. Nearly. It's so nearly done. My deadline isn't for another six weeks. However, not allowing him to kick me off this module is proving diffucult. I keep emailing the bastard - he is very rude and does not reply. So I email him again. And again. I have emailed my course leader - who isn't quite so rude, but she is very unhelpful. I have demanded a meeting with the guy. BUT. He's not replied. And it will mean I have to get to the theatre - this is something that cannot be planned in advance due to my gashy shoulder. Ironic much.
In conclusion. I am fucked.
That is all.
Monday, 11 January 2010
Facebook groups.
On a whole, annoy the living poop out of me.
Admitedly, the ocassional few make me chuckle, so I can admit to having jonied a few. I believe I am in a group full of members who appreciate dinosaurs, or at least claim to appreciate dinosaurs - that's good enough for me. I am in groups relevant to my current location, I am in a few groups which come with a clever title which holds a nice amount of truth. And yes, I am also in a few groups which are completely fucking pointless but make me giggle nonetheless.
So, where is this going I hear you ask - the answer is this - to those people who feel the need to invite me to every single bloody group they join themselves. It's funny, these people wont have spoken to me in months or years and probably have no idea who I actually am, let alone what the hell interests or amuses me, but still they assume I will want to join a group - they assume I give a shit about stuff which really I don't care about one teensie little bit.
I mean seriously, do I really want to join a group about a University that I don't even go to? Or about a TV programme I didn't know existed? Or even better about a TV programme I wish didn't exist. "I love Dundee" - I've never been, I wouldn't know, therefore I'm not going to join. "Team Edward" - Fuck off, I'm already in an anti-Twilight group - hint? Apparently not. "Facebook Rots my Brain" - No it doesn't! Your stupidity does! Gah.
Another good one, is when you're invited to a group about a terrible event or someting that's happened and people join because they think it's terrible, and the title of the group will be something along the lines of, "Stop TERRIBLE EVENT from happening, by joining this group!" No. Joining that fucking group is pointless. Joining a group changes nothing, except encourages people to sit on their arses all day thinking they're making the world a better place. I might give a shit, I might care somewhat about the terrible thing that's happened, but if I really cared that much I'd get off facebook and go do something about it.
Now, I don't mind the ocassional invite from the ocassional person every now and then because they genuinely think I might want to join a group. That's cool with me. I'll get over your poor judgement, or just laugh and go, "Hah, why the hell would I join a group about that?" but odds are, if you think I'll want to join, I probably will. The key word here people is "think". Please do before inviting me to join a group.
Two people on facebook are the cause of this blog entry. Those two people got a rather snotty email from me this morning. This brought some amusement to my day.
Admitedly, the ocassional few make me chuckle, so I can admit to having jonied a few. I believe I am in a group full of members who appreciate dinosaurs, or at least claim to appreciate dinosaurs - that's good enough for me. I am in groups relevant to my current location, I am in a few groups which come with a clever title which holds a nice amount of truth. And yes, I am also in a few groups which are completely fucking pointless but make me giggle nonetheless.
So, where is this going I hear you ask - the answer is this - to those people who feel the need to invite me to every single bloody group they join themselves. It's funny, these people wont have spoken to me in months or years and probably have no idea who I actually am, let alone what the hell interests or amuses me, but still they assume I will want to join a group - they assume I give a shit about stuff which really I don't care about one teensie little bit.
I mean seriously, do I really want to join a group about a University that I don't even go to? Or about a TV programme I didn't know existed? Or even better about a TV programme I wish didn't exist. "I love Dundee" - I've never been, I wouldn't know, therefore I'm not going to join. "Team Edward" - Fuck off, I'm already in an anti-Twilight group - hint? Apparently not. "Facebook Rots my Brain" - No it doesn't! Your stupidity does! Gah.
Another good one, is when you're invited to a group about a terrible event or someting that's happened and people join because they think it's terrible, and the title of the group will be something along the lines of, "Stop TERRIBLE EVENT from happening, by joining this group!" No. Joining that fucking group is pointless. Joining a group changes nothing, except encourages people to sit on their arses all day thinking they're making the world a better place. I might give a shit, I might care somewhat about the terrible thing that's happened, but if I really cared that much I'd get off facebook and go do something about it.
Now, I don't mind the ocassional invite from the ocassional person every now and then because they genuinely think I might want to join a group. That's cool with me. I'll get over your poor judgement, or just laugh and go, "Hah, why the hell would I join a group about that?" but odds are, if you think I'll want to join, I probably will. The key word here people is "think". Please do before inviting me to join a group.
Two people on facebook are the cause of this blog entry. Those two people got a rather snotty email from me this morning. This brought some amusement to my day.
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