And all for the price of a fish finger sandwich.

So I'm sitting there, twiddling my thumbs and idling away my life when it suddenly occurs to me. I am an obsessive person. Now, before you all get up off of your seats or beds as this is quite late, and break into my bedroom and start slapping me about the head with belt buckles and yelling "what?! get a grip! I won't let you slander yourself so!", take a breath and let me explain....put down the wife beaters favourite weapon (did I just imply myself to be a wife...boy, that won't come back to bite me at some point! moving on!) and I shall do so.

See, I'm a generally passive person ("what?! you said obsessive before?! stick to the facts you're presenting!" I will, Jesus! this is just adding context..."more like adding...con...suck...yeah!" i hate my inner dudebro, anyway) and those of you who know me, which I assume is....you all...know that mostly I am a calm person, a quiet chap, one who just floats on by occasionally jumping in, snapping off a witty bon mot and then disappearing back into my reveries, like some kind of iono...pithy batman? But I'm not so much a fan of the bat, so I don't know why I used that example...anyway, yeah, ninja! lets go with ninja. But the point is, that's how I am, how I present myself and I am obsessed about appearance. You see, I am quiet and whatnot because I am obsessed with not being seen as stupid or whatever, say quiet and be thought a fool than speak out and remove all doubt kind of deal. But you may say "Terence, that's not an obsession with appearance, thats a fear of losing face!"...think about it! 

Obsession though isn't like that. See, most other things are layered emotions or traits or whatever, obsession isn't. It's very defined. When I was in school, there was this girl I liked all the way through school, all the way from the first day to the last day, I didn't know anything about her through most of school but it was just "I want her and only her." and then I learnt about her and the things I learnt weren't really all that good, but still "Don't care, just want her and only her". Didn't even really talk to her until, what, the second to last year, and you know why? I didn't want her, I wanted the obsession. I wanted to be able to sit in my room, all wistful like and pining for her, whilst not actually doing anything to go after her, because then it just wouldn't be an obsession.

How'd it go? I did ask her out, eventually, she said yes, and it went about as well as you would expect it to go. See, obsession is about the search for perfection, and she was one of the most flawed people I've ever met (and I've met a lot of flawed people, not you though, beautiful people, you're all cooler than cool) and so I didn't have that feeling anymore...and anyway, she was a cheating whore, so it all worked out for the best in the end ^_^

But yeah, so this obsession, I'm sure you'll have noticed that I tend to post things in clumps, so you'll get loads of mlp pictures one week, loads of music videos one day, loads of whatever whenever, everything comes in groups, and that's because I quickly gain an intense interest in something, and for a while, I'll be stuck on it. It'll be all I think about, all I talk about, I'll defend it to the hilt and promote it to my detriment, then forget about it the next day or whatever. It's why I've never even come close to finishing college before, because I'll be really into it for the first couple of months, then I'll find something new and obsess over that, and devote all my energies to that. Last time in college (well, last time I failed) it was because I started watching all my DVDs (i have a massive collection) and wondered if it would be possible to watch them all in a month...and rather than use maths to say that, hypothetically, it could (or could not) be done, I decided that the only logical course of action would be to watch them all and then HEY! wouldn't it be great to watch them all in a row! (It....wasn't such a good idea.....) So I stayed up for I think it was 5 days, might have been 6 days, either way, I missed college all that week, and I had coursework due in and then I just sacked it off because MOVIES! ...ironically (you keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means....) I was doing a movie studies course....but yeah....

So, it's not just obsessions that have fucked me over, but also an inability to follow them through to completion. (I never did watch all my DVDs either...but come on...there's like 500 of them...and about 50 of them are TV series!) Except the school girlfriend thing...maybe that's where I gained a fear of completing things from, because fucking hell, that was a terrible relationship, the shit she put me through and then she got all the sympathy when she split up with me... ^_^ the injustice of what happened afterwards smarts even today...but then on the other hand, she's stuck with a sprog and a cheating husband, so, karma :D  

I like karma, karma has always got my back. A lot of the places I applied for a job with, and got denied, ended up going bankrupt...now, I know, there's this whole recession thing going on, but really, that was just karma, helping me out, getting revenge for me from the stupid companies who'd say shit like "well, we'd love to hire you, but you need more experience, which you can't get because we won't hire you" fucking circular logic, so thank you karma! You're an alright philosophical aspect in my book!

Back to the topic, yeah, and because I'm an obsessive kind of person, I'll never be able to meet any of my heroes...well, I say heroes....they've not really done anything heroic....but you know, the Internet celebrities, the Felicia days, the Tomskas, the Emma Blackerys....because I would fawn the shit out of them. It's be like that scene from Wayne's World where Alice Cooper turns up and they start bowing and proclaiming themselves to be not worthy....only much more nakedy and propositiony and ending with much more police involvement....probably...I don't know, I'm not an oracle, I can't see into the future of what things I will do should I meet Internet celebrities....elbows would be licked. That's not a euphemism.

Another thing I'm obsessed with is writing random pieces of random...shit....like this, I don't know, I find that it helps me....and will probably help the courts later, but that's not important! I like writing random, crazy shit like this, it's good for the brain! probably...I mean, whats better, sitting there and stewing or getting words down and...stewing....Well, whatever! I've kinda lost the thread of this whole thing now...so....I think I'd better stop....goodbye for the now.

PS: I was not drunk, or on any kind of substance when I wrote this...just feel like I need to put that as a disclaimer in there somewhere....

Currently listening to...

I'm tired...really tired...I've been awake over 21 hours at this point, this is after 4 hours sleep following a 24+ hour stretch of being awake...and I don't know why...I really don't, I just can't sleep lately. Like, I've always been pretty bad at sleeping, and there's not really a reason for it. I mean, I used to be scared of dying in my sleep you know, not waking up because of all the time I spent in hospital as a child, anaesthesia is fucking terrifying you know! But that's not it now (well, for the most part, still have the occasional blip, but yeah, who doesn't), I don't know, I guess its just...I dislike being inactive, if that makes sense. I can't do anything when I'm asleep. I can't write, or read, or sing, or cook, or do anything, well, other than watch dreams...but I dislike my dreams. Well, most of the time...like one time I dreamt I was helping Kakashi and Gai-sensei infiltrate a military complex, there were robots and lasers and everything! and it was awesome...but mostly, my dreams are like "Terence....Terence....you're trying to run away from the big dog, but suddenly your feet are made out of jam! and you hair is now made of mince, boy does that dog look hungry...." or I'll be sitting on a bus talking to an old friend, that I've not even seen in like 8, 9 years and they'll be telling me about whatever, their kids or something and dream-Terence says "yes, but where may i buy a sombrero like yours"....just random, disjointed nonsense, like a stupid surreal indie movie....i miss dreaming about zombies every night :( those were fun dreams....

anyway, so yeah, i don't know, so I write, instead of going to sleep, because that's smart! and i try to figure things out, writing is a form of therapy for me, you know, just getting words out because...just because...i don't know, maybe it allows my subconscious process information or something, i don't know, and I never plan what I'll write (shows doesn't it?!)  which is why I jump about, and repeat myself and talk in circles and basically just waffle on...it's a curse, I swear to God.

I'm looking forward to university...it has taken me 7 years long to get here than it should have done...and I hate that mostly it was my own fault. Like, even the IB thing at New Heys, yeah, I could have passed it, but honestly, it was piss poor mistake to make to take that course (I LOVE THAT SENTENCE!), I mean, I was stupid, and in love, and didn't really think any of it through...I should have gone to a different sixth form, it would have been less painful after that inevitability. And then my first foray into the world of college, that was so fun! I freaked people out, I'm normally quiet, but I can be really intense at times, manic really, and I was for the first month or so there, because....you know, new chance at life! yeah! but it wasn't really, I'd not addressed any of the issues I had, merely stored them, used the anger as fuel, and the thing is anger can only propel a person so far...it runs out, and then you just find yourself in a place you don't want to be because you weren't thinking clearly when you made the decision....

there's a term that came about in the 1950s, "angry young male", it was applied to writers, film makers, theatre actors who came from working class backgrounds (it also was used as a general term for people from that background) and its basically relating to the disenfranchisement and alienation felt by young males in the decades following the second world war. If you ever get the chance, go watch the movie "If..." by Lindsay Anderson, it's a masterpiece and details the surreal feeling of never quite being sure of your place in the world, but never the less wanting to influence it...and that's what the "angry young male" generally was, someone who felt abandoned by society and let down by the world, and often very politically minded but with no idea how to really change the world, or even their own little slice of it. It actually ties in very well with what I've done in sociology this year, I wish I'd have thought of it at the time, would've been fun to talk about it in sociological terms....ah well...

I'm scared of people, you know...well, no, not exactly, I'm scared of being abandoned or rejected by people....I really, really dislike that, well, most people would, I can't see a lot of people going "you know what, I'm really enjoying everyone fucking me off" and actually meaning it...but yeah, its really bad with me. I don't know if it's because I've had no father, and my mother is....who my mother is....but yeah, that's like my big fear, just, one day waking up and people just be there...but not acknowledge me, or just dismiss me, and it's mad, because I really, really like people. I love being in a group of people and just listening to people talk, the stories people tell...I'd tell my own stories, but I don't have many, and they're mostly boring because I've done so little. "What did you do today?" "well, I sat at my computer, and I read Internet articles, all day" "oh, OK, what did you do yesterday?" "well, I sat at my computer, and i read Internet articles all day, but i was drunk whilst doing so" "uh huh...." like obviously, that's an exaggeration, but yeah...for the most part...I like the Internet, i like stories and reading forums, but it doesn't make for particularly interesting self accounts.

So, now I'm going to tell you about the time I almost died. Well, one of the times I've nearly died, I've nearly died a lot of times....like the time I had a missing heart valve that requires me to take antibiotics every time i get a cut...a condition that wasn't discovered until i was 6/7 and after plenty of injuries >_> but i digress....so, I went to Cornwall with la famille, and we were walking around Land's End, and there's these rocks jutting out of the ground, overlooking the cliff, so i obviously climbed it because hey, what's a boy to do when given the choice to confront his own mortality...and I see that there's another rock about three foot away from the one I'm standing on and I think to myself "I bet I could jump that..." and I totally won the bet! on the other rock I realised the first rock, the one I had jumped off of was actually slightly higher than this one...so i jumped back, but I didn't quite make it and I fell off the cliff onto the rocks in the sea below and I died....well, actually, I did fuck up the jump, and i was left clawing my way back up onto the first rock...if I had fell, that would have been it, there would be no me here right now....and it's mad to think that...yeah, stupid decisions, my teen years were full of them. By the by....my family don't know how close I came to falling to my death...don't tell them...I'll get in trouble for 1) almost dying, and B) not telling them for so long and 3) iono, probably almost ruining a vacation or something, iono, they'll make up a C.

I've been writing this for nearly an hour now, over in fact...it really doesn't seem so much for an hours worth of work, but then, whilst I don't plan these things, I do think about what to put in them...there's a lot that goes into my writing that I end up deleting because it's just...i don't really know the word....personal, I guess would be the closest...I'm really bad at personal things, like, really personal things, displaying certain emotions, or whatever...see? It goes back to the rejection thing I guess. I think I'm done writing for now.

PS: With regards to the title, I am listening to an eclectic mix of wubs and/or dubs, as is tradition.

I tend to write a lot...

You know what I hate? Like, really fucking hate you know, like to the point of if i were if I had a wish, and could wish for anything in all the world and all of space and all of time, absolutely anything, totally rule free wish that would be carried out in a consequence free manner, well, I'd wish for a shit ton of money, because come on, let's be realistic...but I digress, yes, what I hate is having an idea that is just balls to the wall crazy and fun and exciting and real life just kicks it to the ground, then in the gut, and when it opens its mouth to drink, life pisses right in that mouth. I hate unrealised ideas, just the concept that it may never be fully realised....now, you know me, and if you don't, you should and so now or eventually you will, and so you'll know I am terrible for this. I can't stress enough that I leave things half (warning! half maybe be an exaggeration, may be less, may be more, may even be not even started!) finished ALL the freaking time, and I hate it. I really just find it hard to care at times, or rather, that I care too much about too many things, you know, I'll start one project, make progress on it, then be all "ooh! something else!" and something else will always be better, you know, because it's newer, and this world is so fucking terrible that at times (and I think this is something we're all guilty of on some level) that I'm constantly searching for the novel thing, just that new and interesting object, or show, or game to blot out real life but of course that's all episodic content, and hell, a lot of time I can't even finish them, just run through them, picking out pieces a la carte. 

But then, life is also episodic. If you think about it, there's this misconception that life is just a stream of uninterrupted consciousness, or at least that's how people perceive it. Mention to them that life is actually a series of events that are causally linked, and that the grand majority of their life is actually just taking place in a limbo between said events and you'll get some strange stares I tell you this now. Well, that and I probably should not have picked the girls locker room at my local fitness centre to spout my philosophies....well, I say that, but really, it was the only choice "what about literally anywhere else?" I hear you ask, with my mental mind powers of telepathy, nope, only choice, that's my answer, infallible in every detail.

I don't know though, I mean half finished...now, obviously this isn't everything, I mean, I finished school right? Well, kind of, I saw it through to the end, sure, but I was just so fucking tired of it, I stopped trying. It's so...infuriating...waiting for the idiots in the class to catch up. I'm not saying I was some massive brain, walking about the place freaking out people with my squishy, squelchy brain meats dripping about the place like some grotesque mockery of creation, but I mean the real idiots...you know the fuckers, the ones who have no fucking hope of anything in their life outside of knocking some bitch up both figuratively and literally, and consequently, having nothing to live for, want to drag the rest of the class down with them...and there were a bloody lot of them, and that's fine, whatever, I don't care, go be the best you can be, you bottom feeding basket of arses, I just wish some teacher in that school had said "fuck all y'all" to the freaking retarded idea of only going as fast as the slowest student. I mean, I guess it makes sense if the range is relatively close to the median or whatever, but when you've got people who'll open a text book, look for the dirty words and go "hur hur, 'at's a durty", but really enthusiastically and over and over, because that's the limit of their small minds, there is quite literally nothing else there, it's just being a knob and talking about them, you don't really get shit done. The reason is simple, they're just not interested, and that holds the class back as the teacher has to deal with them, consequently I get bored because I've normally answered the question before the teacher had finished telling me it, and now I've got nothing to do but sit there and slowly bang my head against the wall in the vain hope that I'd die and reincarnate as a fucking tree or something so I don't have to put up with people anymore.

But yeah, mostly, it leads to me half arsing things. I don't know, it's just this mindset that well, it's not just that, there's other things as well, you know, there's those people I used to hang around with a lot around that time, and who just royally fucked me over, and that makes it hard to give a fuck, and then I know that death is just out there, waiting, it's going to happen, so why give a fuck, and honestly, it's path of least resistance. And I guess that's what I really hate, is that I've got this tendency to just do whatever is easiest, and because it's easy, I'll get bored, and so that thing will only ever get half finished because "what's the point."

Sometimes, I wish I were a normal person, you know, or rather, no, fuck that, I wish I acted like a normal person. I hate the fact that I leave things half finished, I hate that I tend to view little acts of kindness as massive events just all "Wow! I can't believe someone would do that! They must LURVE me!" (yeah, I've got real bad abandonment issues, thank you shitty family and most of my school friends!)...that love thing's not restricted to females...no homo....yeah, REAL bad abandonment issues...often have I said that the only thing worse than not having a father, would be having my step fathers...I'd have liked to have been an orphan, you know...I think I'd have less psychological trauma going on. I don't know, maybe that's just all normal, and that's what people are like....actually no, that would be bad if we all were, because what would that say about our species.

And now, I'm really tired of venting, so yeah, have fun!

Writers Block

By far and away the most annoying thing to a writer is never having enough money. But, then that's just symptomatic of being a person born and raised in a capitalist society, so not really a choice, but no, the really annoying thing to a writer is when one has a story to convey but cannot form the words. They flit in and out of the mind, chasing themselves around the ears, and the writer, he chases them and just when he thinks that they've been caught...poof...and they've vanished, escaped into the ether, disappeared into oblivion....and new ones form instantly and the chase begins anew.

Don't get me wrong, it is annoying, but it can also be fun, trying to find the right words to put down, because it's challenging...how does one convey meaning that is easily understandable? Who is my audience? Do I even have an audience? Sometimes, yes, often I write for myself because it's a form of therapy, it does a boy well to just get his thoughts down, in words, in front of him...and realise that he's a little loopy. But then are they my thoughts? Or am I subconsciously editing in order to present a version of myself to the world that is truly me, but is not all that is me...because how could I? Every little thing, every little fear, or desire, feelings, senses, or whatever else, with just words because words are limited, words have phenomenal power, but always the words are interpreted from the reader's own view point, not the writers. So any insight of me you glean through these nonsensical words and suppositions are filtered through your own eyes (literally and figuratively), and so will be true, but truth is not always what a thing actually is.

Mostly, I'm bored. Hence this nonsensical short piece. It's called writer's block, because I have writer's block and I find that what best helps with that is just getting something down, anything down. Writing for the sake of writing, forgetting about correct spellings, the correct application of grammar, any semblance of order except for that which is innate. It's just an exercise in getting the words to flow, and what better way is there to do that except by flowing some words out there. Doesn't matter, it's not a piece that will be marked, or examined (and if it is, well, who does that say more about, the reader, or the writer?), just purely for my own amusement. 

Like, originally I was going to write a zombie story to get out of this little rut, because zombies, woo! But every short story about zombies seems so cliché, so hackneyed and I realised, zombie stories don't go anywhere. They never do. Basically a zombie story, whether in a book or film, is a slice of life tale...it's about survival, the day to day grind of living. It's just that instead of worrying about being hit by a taxi every time you're in city centre, it's worrying about hordes of the undead...it's about just living and coping with danger, but mostly it's the living. And then there's always some grandiloquent speech (or it is shown as a laboured point throughout the piece) that it's not the dead a person should be wary of, but the living instead...and it's always such bullshit! The living can be scary and monstrous and be capable of harm at times, that's true...but the zombies are scary and monstrous and capable of harm all the time! So often they try and raise a philosophical point about the inhumanity of humans, and that's great...if it wasn't tacked onto a piece about a 50s b-movie stock monster having taken over the world! Can you imagine it if it were tried with "The Blob".

"sure, it's a monstrous entity from outer space that can't be reasoned with, and that given a chance would consume everything in its path, but in the end, we didn't want to die, so we killed it in self defence...but really who's the real monster..."

But yeah, that's really veering away from my original dislike, which is it's just...life. There's an adventure in living, sure, but zombie stories tend to have protagonists who don't really adapt, who don't really change their lifestyles to meet the demands of living in a zombie world. And I don't know if it's the rigidity of writers themselves, or whether they're writing to meet an audience's expectations, but almost every zombie story I've read, the zombies don't have to be there. They could be replaced by soldiers, feral children, for some reason all the electronics on the planet stop working, just...anything, it doesn't matter, because people will just be people, living their pre-zombie lives, but instead of worrying about terrorists, will worry about zombies. Actually, I suppose that's a massive indictment of the human race, we adapt by making things disinteresting and trivial. In short, the driving force for humanity is survival, and the best way to survive is by adapting a general sense of apathy toward what is interesting.

And speaking of apathy, I now tire of writing, so yeah...