Facebook Dilemmas And How To Solve Them: Part Three

Procrastination
We all know the feeling. Your to-do list curls around your desk, down your stairs, out your front door and is currently tripping over anybody who has the audacity to walk past your house. You know that you should begin to whittle down the tasks you have to do, but every time you set to work you get distracted by a friend or a shiny object.

So what could be more distracting and anti-work than a shiny object that presents you with all your friends? That is right; facebook is the enemy of productiveness!

It's not like it even has to do much to distract you. You want to be led away into the land where no work is done. All it has to do is tell you that someone poked you. A simple action that'll leave you constantly refreshing your page to make sure you poke them back as quick as possible.

A person can spend hours lost in a maze of contact details, interests, groups and events. You'll find yourself revisiting anything and everything just to make sure nothing has changed in the last five minutes.

You'll check out the profile of that friend that you haven't spoken to in a while, only to realise that you don't care that she's had three kids and is looking a little bloated. You only added her because you mis-clicked 'Ignore' and have yet to figure out how to un-add her.

So what can you do? How can you claim back those lost hours that could be spent weeding the garden or cooking a lovely roast for your spouse? Simply put, you can't.

Sure, you could delete your profile or disconnect your house from the internet, but such extreme methods would only leave you vulnerable elsewhere. How would you know when people are partying if you can't be invited to such events? And the absence of internet would only make it difficult to cross things off your to-do list if those things involved e-mailing people.

So you're going to have to face facts. Facebook and procrastination are here to stay. When you have to do work, you'll want to not work. And even if you don't have a facebook, something or someone shiny will always be there to stop you from doing it.

So accept it as a way of life, enjoy the fun whilst it lasts and make sure you have a whole bunch of caffeine for last minute revision.

:D

http://diablo2097.deviantart.com/art/Procrastination-64466957

Facebook Dilemmas And How To Solve Them: Part Two

The Facebook-Literate Parent

Facebook is a world for the young. Just type a random name into the search engine and study the legions of faces that it presents you with. All young right? All around twenty and all probably out in a club, slightly drunk and with their arm around someone else.

They are the type of pictures that imply this person is fun, they like to go out and they have lots of friends. What we really don't know is that the picture was taken several years ago when someone was drunk enough to even touch them.

But, every so often, someone beyond twenty-five feels the urge to join the facebook community. And, although even rarer, occasionally that person is a parent. So who else would they choose to add as their 'friend'? Their son/daughter of course.

The problem exists when you are the son or daughter in question. The day when you log into your account and find that there is a friend request waiting from mother/father is a very troubling day indeed. You are left in a perilous situation.

The rock, in the whole rock/hard place metaphor, is not accepting your parent as one of your posse. You click 'ignore' and think that the whole situation is dealt with. But the next time you speak to them, they casually bring it up. They haven't quite grasped the whole facebook thing, and just think you haven't checked it in a while. They tell you that they 'added' you, without knowing what it really means. They want to know why you haven't appeared on their friend list.

Now, unless you have a very honest parent/child relationship, you can't tell them that the reason you didn't add them is because ninety per cent of the photos you have been tagged in involve you in compromising positions. The only decent one is currently your profile picture and that will have to change soon.

And herein lies the hard place. If you do add them, they are privy to anything and everything that you are doing in your life. Change you status to "[Your name here] is feeling hungover" and your parent will know that you spent last night drinking yourself into oblivion instead of studying for that important exam next week. Heaven forbid they see that photo of you passed out on a sofa or that your interests involve sex, drugs and rock and roll.

Whichever option you choose, you are in for a frightful few weeks, months or years. And there is only one solution. Sadly, that solution will be difficult for you to implement unless you are competent with programming code.

However, on the off chance you are, here is the way to solve the dilemma. What we all need is an application that creates a shell around your profile, a decoy one. The real one can remain true and candid, but the fake one will make you out to be a saint.

Your interests will involve bible reading, helping old ladies across the road and baking. Your status will be things like "is loving life" or "is picnicking with non-junkie friends". The profile picture will be well lit and will depict you as a saint, reading "The Hungry Caterpillar" to small children.

So when someone adds you, the application will give you the option of the profile you would like them to see. Therefore, if your father or your mother decides that they want to join the new facebook phase, they'll never know the devil that lurks behind the bright, puppy dog eyes that you flash at them whenever you're home for Christmas.

:D

http://apics.deviantart.com/art/father-and-son-59265919

Facebook Dilemmas And How To Solve Them: Part One

The Facebook Couple

It is the age old story. Boy meets Girl. Boy talks to Girl. Girl laughs at Boy's jokes. Boy buys Girl drinks. Girl gets drunk. Girl makes out with Boy in dark corner of the club. Girl gives Boy her number. Boy texts the next day, because he's a bit shy about ringing her. Girl, embarrassed about last night's actions, texts back. Boy replies. Boy and Girl meet for coffee. Girl feels a spark. Boy just wants sex. Romance blossoms! The end.

However, with the advent of Facebook, this simple story is twisted into a horrible, car-crash of mixed emotions and mistaken motives. And the cause sits quite innocently at the top of each profile. The 'Relationship Status'.

OK, so when you are single, life is easy. You put single and all those pretty girls and boys who are also single say "Hey, they are single. I should get to know them.". You swig champagne in expensive places and party your life away in the way a glorious singleton would.

But after the coffee? What then? Do you put that you are 'in a relationship'? Whilst this may be true, you fail to stipulate that the relationship is a very small one that will be abandoned at the next sign of another skirt to chase.

And what happens if you put 'in a relationship', and your partner doesn't. They stick with their 'single' tag like peanut butter to the roof of your mouth.

And surely if your status says 'in a relationship' and yet you remain interested in 'dating' and 'relationships', then you'll be in a whole world of hurt.

Suddenly the simple boy meets girl, becomes girl hates boy for never telling his facebook "friends" that he loves her truly and unconditionally, via his status. Even if it is just because he hasn't been online in a little while.

The solution? Although it may sound risky at first, change your status to 'it's complicated'. Then, when your angry partner demands to know what is so complicated about your relationship, simply reply, calmly and romantically "I don't ever think I could describe the love I feel for you with the simple words 'in a relationship'. Therefore, our love must remain complicated, as I can never find the right words to describe your beauty".

If you're a girl, then you have nothing to worry about. A guy doesn't care how you describe yourself on facebook, as long as he's sleeping with you.

:D

http://www.thrivingfamilies.com/assets/images/iStock_000002761784XSmall.jpg

And So It Begins

Tomorrow I begin principal photography on our fashion modelling based film noir. And yes, I do love saying "principal photography" because it makes the whole thing seem more professional and less like a rag-tag group of students who have been given a camera and a thousand pounds to have our filthy way with.

The stage is set. The pieces are in place. Our director knows what he wants, the cinematographer knows how to interpret what the director wants and the writer can watch his precious script get butchered.

Locations have been found and all those pesky health and safety forms have been filled in to make sure that no-one trips over a loose cable or drives a car into a tree. Actors are ready to act, make-up people are ready to make them look pretty and I'm there to make sure they get fed. And that they're warm. And that they have everything they need; up to, and occasionally including, sexual favours.

In metaphorical terms, I'm about to jump off a cliff. I've got dressed and packed the things I need. I've got into my car and driven to the right spot. I've checked the weather to make sure there won't be a storm. I've asked my friend how deep he reckons the water will be and he's said "Deep enough".

I've taken a deep breath. And now I'm running towards the edge.

What I find when I land is anyone's guess. Sure, the water could be just right. But it could start to rain. I could slip and fall. Hit my head on a rock. I could forget how to swim or be dragged away by a strong current.

But as long as I can climb out, bleeding and wet, I'll do it all again. Just for the adrenaline rush.

:D

http://supablonde.deviantart.com/art/cliff-jump-17382625

Boys Don't Cry

We don't. It's a fact. Haven't you been told it a thousand times?

Boys are tough and stoic. We build shelves, drive fast and make deals in giant, monolithic office buildings, whilst smoking cigars.

Girls, on the other hand, cry at sad films, puppies, small children, bee stings, cold days and everything in between. They even cry when they're happy, which is just inexplicable.

Girls do the housework, they take the kids to school, they cook a nice roast dinner for their tired husband as he walks wearily through the door from a hard day's work. They wear pretty dresses and say pretty things and never do anything rude.

Boys hold doors open for the girl. They buy her flowers when she cries which, as we discussed, is quite a lot. They tell her she is beautiful and she blushes and life goes on perfectly.

Criminals are always caught and always fit into a nice, easy 'evil' label. Everybody else is honest and decent and law abiding.

Nothing bad ever happens. People don't hate each other. Everyone dies peacefully, old and in their sleep.

Something like that, right?

:P

http://attemptestock.deviantart.com/art/Child-Crying-2-18811547

Archived Writing

Here is another piece from my old notebook. Again, it's not finished and doesn't have a title, but this time it is happier. Although halfway through I seemed to have stopped and when I came back to it I had a different coloured pen and seemed more depressed. Because it goes downhill from that point.

Oh, and I'm a girl. I don't know why.

Enjoy!

I dance a thousand dances, live a thousand happy moments when we first kiss. Eyes shut, my mind fills with all the colours of every spectrum, waltzing, expanding, exploding across my eyelids. This is ecstasy.

I wish that this moment will last, till the end of time and beyond, rooted to this spot, holding the one I adore, forever connected, forever loved. But it does end and I open my eyes, reality filters in. He stands, watching me, the one constant between my dreams and this reality. He smiles, and his chocolate-brown eyes also seem to. I smile too, his reflection.

Our silence hangs comfortably in the air. We say nothing but everything is communicated; in our smiles, our eyes, the way he holds my waist so protectively. He silently tells me he loves me. I silently tell him I love him too. We kiss again and my mind dance.

It is softer this time, more confident, rehearsed. I melt into him, absorbed and the world slips away. Just me and him and it's all I need. We are everything important, connected for always. He pulls away.

"I can't do this."

The words hurt, daggers to the heart. I try to reply, defend myself from it, but nothing comes, no words to shield me. I just gape at him, like a fish. His smile has gone, his eyes dead to me. He is frowning and I wonder what horrors he is thinking to hurt him so.

:D

http://spencinator.deviantart.com/art/Perfect-Kiss-20196668

And Now Back To The Scheduled Programming

Apologies for not being able to write yesterday's entry, but I was hugely busy and didn't have time to sit and think. I'm sure the memories of the last blog and the picture of Justin will fade with time and therapy.

Anyhow, yesterday I was trashing my room in search of a book that I wanted to read. Whilst the search for the book was fruitless, I did uncover an old notebook of mine. Thought I'd share a piece of writing that I found inside.

I'll probably share another piece tomorrow, to save myself the extra effort of thinking of something.

This piece is title-less and was written for a potential art film. It never got made. The whole thing is very dark.

Death stalks me. The cloak of darkness swallowing me into its eternal rest.

Three guards run above me, searching, out for blood. Hounds, sniffing, wanting to sink their fangs into innocence. Sweat drips, like blood from a wound, thick, rancid.

I stop breathing, terrified that the simple act of keeping myself alive will lead to my death. I want to cough. My body betraying me. I'm my own Judas, sticking a knife into my own back.

I swallow hard and above me they stop. Oh god. Whispered angry words, fists clenched, guns at the ready. Their ears prick, they hear their rabbit. They search harder. I curl tighter.

My mind wanders away from this place, to happier times, past memories. Flowered fields with lovers, sunsets on beaches, a baby in my arms. They become tainted, dripping red with poisoned blood. The flowers rot and the lover grows old, wrinkled and bitter. The sun sets but never rises, and the monsters in the shadows creep closer, grow stronger, take over. The baby in my arms stops breathing and a hysterical mother cries and blames for her tears, for taking away her life. And it is my fault, the simple act of holding the unprotected infant, new to our world, transfers my black fortune into its skin, its lungs, its heart.

My eyes open, to escape the nightmare of my daydreams, but I find myself in the nightmare of reality: dark, cold, unrelenting. My pursuers are closer now, faces to the floorboards. I worry that the whites in my eyes will shine through the darkness, a sparkling flare revealing my location, another betrayal from my body. But they are bloodshot, from insomnia, the stop start of tears and the dirt and dust in the room. I am camouflaged in the black, darkness personified.

A rat trundles close to my foot, comfortable in the damp, mocking me because I'm not. Its beady eyes are filled with contempt for me, my cowardice. I am the mouse as he stands tall above me. He goes where he wants, unfazed by predators, bullets or death. I crouch in the shadows, paralysed by a thick, white, suffocating fear. He turns, his tail offering me one last living touch, his mouth, his squeak, sentencing me to death. The floorboards are pulled up.

I close my eyes, hard as I can until they hurt. I want to escape to my nightmare dream world, the rotting flowers and the dead baby glorious when compared to real pain, real tears, real death. But my hands are restrained, and so is my mind, trapping me into these real emotions. I am claustrophobic in my own body, unable to flee the shouting from foreign devils, the kicks, the blood, the inevitability of a new world filled with horror.

It is unbearable and I shut off. If I can't escape to fake realities, I will escape to nothing. Walls and floors and people don't exist where I go. Just nothing. Miles and acres and metres of nothing. Black. And then I see the rat again.

Imaginary, he stares at me still, unmoving. He says everything in his gaze. He looks back through my childhood, the life lessons that I learned. My first kiss, sweet and terrifying all at once. Leaving home, my future stretching ahead of me, a long, winding road. To now, this moment, when my future has transformed, a walled alleyway, dank and musty, a dead end. And the rat says nothing and everything all at once, the wall crumbles to dust and I open my eyes.

So that's it. Told you it was dark. Just a little depressing too.

I'm not sure if this was meant to be the end, or whether I just got bored. Although I do have a feeling that he is now dead, and that the last paragraph was his life flashing before his eyes. Either way, the current ending stays.

Also, sorry for the abundance of commas, but that was the way it is written in my notebook. And I had to make up for Emma's lack of them.

Have Fun

:D

http://www.flickr.com/photos/hanurijkl/2140938017/

Emma Takes Over The Blog!

I've been bugging Chris to write his blog all about me since he started it, and now he's gone one better and has let me write one myself. I even get to have my name in the title! Only problem is I don't really know what to write. This entry could be all about how great I am, but unfortunately it's much more fun to read what other people think of you, rather than just writing what you think of yourself. Also, I have an exam tomorrow which I really should be revising for instead of writing this. Not that I have actually been revising anyway. I've been attempting to win on the Hard level of Spider Solitaire, and that's all Chris's fault too. So basically if I fail my exam he gets the blame!

Chris did suggest I write an ode to Stephen Fry, but I think that would take too much effort and imagination. He also suggested I post a poem I like, but the only poems I know are from the 16th and 17th Centuries. And I don't particularly like them, I just have to study them! So basically I'm stuck for ideas, but he did say it didn't have to be very long and I feel I've waffled long enough. This rubbish entry just serves Chris right for being too busy to write his own blog.

I would also like to apologise if you don't feel there are enough commas in this entry, but unfortunately I haven't 'embraced the comma' like Chris has - I am trying to though!

So in the words of Lil Chris . . .

'Have Fun'

:)

PS. I thought I'd add a picture of Justin Timberlake, because for some reason Chris doesn't think he's a legend. But I do, and today it's my blog so there!!! Bye Bye Bye! :D hehe

Good News/Bad News

GOOD - I've officially bought my tickets to Southampton to visit Emma after all the filming work is outta the way. So after being producer and organising everything for everyone, I'll expect to be able to relax, have her decide what we do and be pampered. You hear that Emma? Pampered!

BAD - Mr Heath Ledger is dead at the young age of 28. I expect people to know this already so I have nothing much to add. But it is very sad.

GOOD - I won the Waitrose Annual Quiz, by four points, for the second year running. Go me, my team and my silly knowledge of film and TV. Finals, here we come.

BAD - One of our filming locations has fallen through because their roof has literally fallen through. Because of the heavy rain and not a meteor which was my first guess.

GOOD - I'm still sticking to my two litres of water a day AND also drinking coke.

BAD - Despite having a really cool idea for a TV pilot, something I need to work on to secure a future after I leave Uni, I have not been able to find time to work on it. I'm sleeping, working, blogging, washing then repeating. It's repetitive and boring.

Looks like I'm going to need that holiday in Southampton.

:) + :(

PS: Because I love most of the pictures I put up at the top, I'm going to start providing links to the artists that supply them. Here is the first:

http://cozim.deviantart.com/art/Angel-and-Demon-THX-4k-hits-37875236

Revision

"The 1973 martial-arts classic Enter the Dragon was trimmed by the British censors in 1979 to delete a fight that involves nunchakas, leaving the scene following, where Bruce Lee sits with the weapons suddenly dangling around his neck, unexplained. "

"In Mike Nichols's film The Graduate (1967), there is one shot where Benjamin (Dustin Hoffman) holds Mrs Robinson's breast. She ignores him, rubbing at a spot on her clothes. He turns and bangs his head against the wall. The breast-touching was Hoffman's spur-of-the-moment idea and he was laughing so much he banged his head against the wall, convinced the shot would be cut. It stayed in. "

"In Batman Begins, during filming of the scene where Batman is being towed by a train through the streets of Gotham, so much steam was used that after each take that it would "rain" on the cast and crew for several minutes."

"In Atonement, the set of Dunkirk, built at Redcar, was the most expensive set, costing an estimated 1 million pounds."

Shhhh!

I'm revising for the Waitrose Annual Quiz.

:D

I'm Giving Up Giving Up

Twenty one days ago, and nine blogs ago, I promised the world that I would give up fizzy drinks. Today, I am announcing that the promise is over. I am drinking Coke again!

Now let me explain before people call me weak-willed and a failure. It was never an easy decision. Here is the logic I'm going with:

The reason I gave up fizzy drinks was a drive to be healthier. Noble, I know. And sure, drinking water every day did detox me a whole bunch. But what it all lacked was fun.

I could live an alcohol-free, danger-free life, living off cabbage and raisins, and live to be 203, but I'd be incredibly bored. What is the point of living a long time if you don't spend that time living?

Also, there's the whole idea of my sanity, my mental health. Whilst my body may have been loads healthier, I longed for something with taste. Slowly my morale dropped and I swear that I would have gone crazy and killed someone if my fizzy drink chastity had continued.

I will still try and continue the good habit of drinking two litres of water a day, so the ban hasn't been a total waste. But I'm also back in the lovely, comfortable hug of fizzy drinks now, and that is where I will remain.

Well, until I die at the grand age of 32

:D

Ouch!

It is way too early!

Last night, just before sleep, I felt twinges of pain. The forming of a headache. But it's okay, I told myself, because I can just go to sleep and it'll be gone by the morning.

How old have I become that this no longer works?!

At half four I was awoken with a fully-fledged headache. I've since nicknamed it the 'humbling headache' because it makes things painful when you look up, so I was forced to have my head bowed.

Anyhow, I went in search of some kind of medication that would sate the pain long enough for me to grab that little bit of extra sleep. In the bathroom I found 'Telfast'. I was unsure whether they were the right tablets of not, since they had no cardboard box, but took the giant pink tablets anyway.

At the point of writing I am still in the dark about what I took, because they certainly didn't help with the headache. I tossed and turned for half an hour, waiting for something that claims to be 'fast' to numb the pain.

It didn't.

I thought briefly about walking into the nearby hospital and demanding some morphine, but decided against the melodramatic. Instead, I dressed and headed out into the rain to a 24/7 shop, twenty minutes away. The Telefast still hadn't kicked in when I eventually reached the shop.

I bought Neurofen and some water, took them in the shop and then headed back the way I came. Since sleep was only going to be precious few minutes, I passed my house and travelled to the University Library, open 24 hours a day. I'm starting to think all things should be open twenty four hours, because those places have saved my life this morning.

So here I am. White as a sheet, wet, tired but (thankfully) painless. This does not seem the start of a good day.

Therefore I must break my current trend of ending on smiley faces (Sorry Emma!).

:(

This Is NOT A Diary

A housemate and a friend coming home tipsy, led to a discussion about diaries. What are they for? Are they useful in any way? Do I keep one? The answer is no, and I want to state now that this is not a diary.

To me, a diary is one of two things. It can be a plain list of what you have done. "I went to the shops. I brought some broccoli.", that kind of thing. I've tried this and it is boring. Also, when you look back at your dairy in ten years time, all you find out is that you ate broccoli that day.

The other type of diary is a whole other world of dangerous. It is the writing of your stream of thought, without any censorship or editing. I've tried this as well, and I can promise you that my stream of thought is not fit for public consumption.

I am insanely neurotic. I am paranoid. I often wonder if people like me. Or why they like me. I never feel part of any group, but that I am just standing on the outside of a circle, peering in.

I've been told that as a kid, I was obsessed with death and I don't think that has ever gone away. I imagine what it would be like to die. Who would be at my funeral? Who would cry? What would change in the world?

Or I imagine other people dying and what life would be like without them. Or I wonder who would be at my bedside if I ever got seriously ill.

Sometimes I want to get ill just for the attention.

I'd like to think that on the outside I am warm and positive but, like 'Star Wars' has always taught us, there has to be balance. I think I'm just balanced with a dark, foreboding, negative inside.

And that is exactly where it should stay - inside.

And I realise that I now come across as just a little bit crazy thanks to the last few paragraphs but I swear I'm not. I cope, for the most part, perfectly well in civilised society. And despite all the negativity, I wouldn't trade my mind or thoughts with anybody else.

But I'll also choose not to write them down as well.

:D

Channel Hopper

Here are a few highlights from a night channel surfing for something to watch.

First is a bird that has managed to mimic human noises:


I've yet to decide whether it has taken the 'best bird' throne from this bird:


And lastly, the best American Idol audition EVER!:


I'm scratching my head why we are forced to have Louis Walsh instead of Randy. The guy is funny!

Before I go, today I read of a programme called 'America's Most Smartest Model'. I really want to know if they even got the irony here.

:D

Politics = Fun

Oh dear. Last night I dreamt of producing. I don't think that's a good sign.

Anyhow, because my brain is fried and I'm stressed and the world was coming down oh-so-slowly on my shoulders, I decided to treat myself to the cinema. Not sure that a political drama was the best choice, but off I went to see Charlie Wilson's War anyway.

It entertained me. I'm always rubbish at these review type things, but I'll try. The film managed the rare feat of making politics fun and funny and understandable.

Tom Hanks was very good, but Tom Hanks is always very good. A character in the film describes Charlie as 'easy to like' and this sums up Tom Hanks for me. He comes across as a nice guy and he is in some of my favourite films, but the guy doesn't have 'edge'. He needs to play a villain. Or a drug addict.

Also, I still think his best performance was in a little-known film called 'Punchline' which I brought for £2.50. He plays a stand-up comedian that breaks down on stage. Acting genius!

I don't like Julia Roberts but she was barely in the film and she was playing a character that we aren't meant to like, so I guess it's alright. I'll give this to her though; she looks good in a bikini for a forty year old.

And Philip Seymour Hoffman is just amazingly funny at playing angry people. He stole the film with his tiny angry role!

Oh, the film also had my new favourite actress, after I saw her in Enchanted, in it. Amy Adams! I like her. She is pretty.

The writing was spot-on (What you'd expect from the writer of 'The West Wing') and the directing was passable. I was slightly concerned that they played the shooting down of Russian helicopters as a slapstick scene, but maybe that was what they were going for.

It also had a real downer ending, but it is based on a true story, so I guess you can't expect butterflies and roses.

Well, anyway, I left a little bit more educated about political history and in a real mood to watch so more fast-talking political drama. So I rented the West Wing, having only seen a few episodes before.

The show is great. It is exactly the way the the world of politics should be run. People should walk quickly down a corridor, make decisions, share a quick quip and continue on their merry way. No sitting around in Parliament, arguing your case. If you want to argue, you better have a razor wit and argue in that person's office.

But once again, life isn't like the world I see on my TV. Things aren't neatly wrapped up in forty minutes.

And politics is boring.

:)

I'm A-OK!

Guess my rain dance had some kind of effect because I'm sitting typing this and I'm soaked to the skin.

Anyhow, I'm very cautious about writing anything today. I'm busy and stressed and it'll all come across as pessimistic. But I'm not really like that. I'm just in need of a long hot bath, a good film and a hug from a friend. Possibly all at the same time (depending on the friend).

But this morning all is good! Perhaps it's because I got an Optimash Prime as a gift today. Perhaps it's because I awoke way too early and haven't quite grasped the jobs I still have to do in the coming week.

Whatever the reason, I'm feeling good. Life's smoothing out. And I'm going to the cinema tonight for the first time in 2008.

Things are looking up!

:D

All Work And No Play Makes Me Want It To Rain

*Sigh* I wish it would rain.

The whole day has been grey, promising me a heavy downpour. But, like the Matrix sequels, the day has failed to live up to its promises.

Maybe, when I've done my work, a rain dance is in order?

:(

Tuesday

Today is Tuesday.

Happy Tuesday Everyone!

:D

Procrastination Explained

OK, so I'm in a room. It's a large room, perhaps a hall of some kind. It would echo if you shout.

I'm standing in the middle of this large room and all around me are people holding cardboard signs. On each of the signs is a job that I am meant to be doing. Hiring make-up people, e-mail this person, write this essay, etc. And they surround me, these people.

When I look at one of them, to see what job I'm meant to be doing, all the other guys shout at me and wave their signs and say "Hey! Look at me! I'm more important than him! Do me next! I'm important!".

But as soon as I turn to look at one of these other people, the rest keep shouting. "If you don't do me you'll die/lose a limb/only come third in the Justin Timberlake lookalike competition! Don't look at him!"

Just on the outside of the circle is a beautiful leggy girl, all sex on high heels. She doesn't have a sign. She doesn't need one. She's got that cartoony perfume on, the type that lures you to her with a pink wispy gesturing hand.

She's smiling at me and with her eyes she is saying "Ignore those crazy men with their signs and their urgency. Come with me and we'll frolic in the moonlight and eat striped candies in a beautiful green field. Come with me."

And I do really want to go with the pretty lady because she is very pretty and she isn't shouting at me. But in the back of my mind I know that if I do, she won't turn out to be a pretty lady at all, but some kind of lizard/spider hybrid.

She'll inject me with a sedative and lay her lizard/spider eggs inside me. They hatch and devour me, before moving on to become beautiful sirens in their own right and luring other men to their doom.

So, instead, I've got to stand in the centre of the crazy sign people and slowly work my way through them, solving their problems one at a time and trying really hard to ignore their shouting and their rants.

And the pretty lady mocks me with her beauty and her striped candies.

That is how I feel right now.

:(

A 2008 Me

The 2008 me will be a healthier me. He will avoid all that bad fizzy drink and replace it with good healthy water and juicy juice, all the better to make him big and strong.

The 2008 me will not avoid the gym, but embrace it as a way of life. He will run on that running machine and try his hardest not to get bored of the constant put-put-put of jogging. He will lift those weights until they can be lifted no more. Then he will put them down and repeat the process until he or the weights or both are dead.

The 2008 me will find a better way to describe jogging and never use the term 'put-put-put' again.

The 2008 me will enjoy writing itself and not just the act of having written. He will enjoy inhabiting his various characters even if they do annoy him. And he will actively make time to sit and write something, no matter how rubbish, instead of gallivanting around doing everything and anything that isn't writing.

The 2008 me will continue his love for the comma.

The 2008 me will find the courage to speak to more strangers, even if they scare him with their eyes and their knowing looks and their hair with all its hairiness.

The 2008 me will be visiting the cinema a whole lot more, now that he has his very own cinema buddy. She even comes with her own thoughts and opinions on the films, which is a whole lot better than eavesdropping on strangers to see what they think.

The 2008 me probably won't be cutting down on the drink, but will be replacing the more expensive Bulmers with the cheaper alternative of Strongbow. That way, not only can he get the same amount of drunk, he can also buy some sort of sandwich for the journey home.

The 2008 me will try real hard to just not try and understand girls at all and just accept that they are weird and un-understandable. If anyone tries to explain them, he will just put his fingers in his ears and go "La-la-la, I'm not listening!".

The 2008 me will have to attempt to become a real legitimate adult at some point because the 2008 me will be turning 21 soon. This is the universal age for people to stop mucking around with childish thoughts and buckle down, get themselves a mortgage and a real job. The 2008 me will be doing this. Hopefully. Maybe. Probably not.

The 2008 me will make lists of things that he needs to do and not rely on his very sketchy memory to help him remember things.

The 2008 me forgot what this next point was going to be.

Most importantly, the 2008 me will keep this blog running longer than one post. He may even make it to three.

Happy New Year (Only Thirteen days late)

:D