Keep up old boy!

Well didn't I loose touch with this blog rather quickly. I have made a decision to update this blog every weekend. Finding the time to do it every day may prove hard and I need to work on other things. But as I have managed to not update for a while now, I decided this post can be massive.

Since the last time I posted a lot of things have come to past. For the biggest part, Christmas. I had a really good one, spent with all my loved ones (minus a few friends from uni who I would have loved to be there) and most specifically my Samantha Pantha (its spelt right because I say so!).
LOVE Christmas,
LOVE the food,
LOVE the people,
LOVE the warmth that fills up inside of you.
No. Wait. Not that bloody single syllable word again. Let me try that again.
The food of Christmas is quite possibly the best food of the year. I mean we really put so much of our heart into creating a meal. We do it because of the anticipation of that one meal on that one day. No one cooks all year round like they do on Christmas day, it would kill you!
The people you spend Christmas with is the real feeling you get inside. All it takes is for one person to feel the Christmas spirit (which is not hard when you are surrounded by the smell of the cooking) and it infects you. Its one of the best infections you can get and one of the easiest to loose :(. It makes me a little sad that some people don't have the chance to become an infected Christmas form. Very sad.
NEW YEAR! I had one of the best New Year's party of my life this year. A house party is always the way to go as there are no fees you have to pay to actually celebrate a passing of time. I spent mine at a farm with my Sam's family and friends. They are loving and caring and made me and a friend I dragged along very welcome. They are brilliant people so open and so accepting and they really did make my New Year something special.

Right those are out the way.

I have been to the cinema three times since I blogged and they have been some of the most interesting films of my life. The first was Harry Brown. If you have seen it you will know what I mean when I say that it was bleak. What a morbid outlook on life that film really was. But I cannot deny it's brilliance. The acting was incredible and the writing drew you into the character of Harry, the empathy with an aging pensioner ran deep. At no point did you feel sorry for the people his vengeance annihilated.
The second film was Sherlock Holmes. Brilliant acting, fantastic writing and Guy Ritchie went that little bit further with his directing. I was impressed and anticipate a sequel.
But now the final film. 44 Inch Chest. Well it was not what I expected. After seeing the trailer I expected a violent bloodied steak with a peppercorn sauce of cockney jibes. I was very wrong. But not disappointed. If you were to ask me what film I would have wanted to write or direct, it would be 44 inch chest. A film worthy of the stage. The writing touched something deep inside of me that woke up and said "this is what I want to write". It was sublime. Dark and horribly funny. Yet emotional ... the type of emotion that hits you with a sledgehammer repeatedly after you told it that you did not feel the same way. All I can really say is watch it and decide for yourself if this film deserves my praise of if I, in fact, need help.

I have visited some of the most fantastic people that I am proud to call my friends. I miss you all dearly and genuinely can't wait till I see you again. You know who you are [points menacingly].

ANYWAY I shall be updating this blog weekly now with my thoughts and a story.

In a world of pure imagination...

I escaped to the land of abusive nights stalkers, chasm like pot-holes, burnt houses and kittens this weekend. It gave me some time off from the exciting task of job seeking. By exciting of course I mean; soul crushing, monotonous, up hill struggle.

I started this blog with the intention of writing about something interesting each day. But the problem at the moment seems that nothing has happened that interests me, so I am sure that means I will not be able to interest you. I guess the best thing to do in these circumstances is to not write anything thought provoking and just get on with some form of short story.

Sir Stephen Black of the Knight Guardians of the Holy Round had been called forth by the Prince Reagent and leader of his order.
"Sir black this day I offer you the chance to redeem your tardy record. You must deliver this holiest of packages to the tower of far far away."
Stephen had been tardy, he could not deny it. His actions had caused a reduction in his retinue. He knew he had to grasp this opportunity and prove his might to his master. He flew from the Prince's chambers and through the court kitchens to the back entrance. There his magnificent black beast awaited his arrival peacefully. Sir Stephen donned his ceremonial helmet and straddled his noble stead. He kicked the beast who roared into motion and he took to the streets at a colossal speed.

Stephen dodged his way around the peasantry cursing their lack of haste. He could feel the angered eyes as he managed to swiftly weave his way through a predicament; caused by a more elderly cart driver. To his dismay when he reached the tower of far far away he spied a group of young highwaymen congregating at it's entrance. Stephen pondered on his plan of action. But only for a second as he could see his time was running short. He dismounted his monumental stallion and stormed towards the rapscallions. He defeated any attempt to cross his path with a stern look and made his way up the tower.

Stephen reached out his hand and knocked on the door blocking his way. To the door came a vision. Not so much a vision of beauty, but a vision none the less.
"It's been more than half an hour, it's free." she burbled.
"I am afraid not madam, seventeen pounds fifty please." Stephen took the money and returned to Prince's Pizzas triumphant.

of what you can achieve.

Sometimes language fails me.

I decided yesterday that "love" is far to a complex emotion for just one word to satisfy. There are so many different types of love. Don't worry this is not the point where I quote a dictionary because that would be a cliche and not to mention boring.

You love your mother, father brother and sister; its a family bond. This love encompasses the feeling of security, familiarity, unification. They are a love that makes you feel safe. You have a deep bond with them because of your blood relation, you grew up with them and so your souls grew a kinship.

But (hopefully) this love is not in any way similar to the love you feel for a "Lover" (I also think the word "partner" is a terrible thing to use to refer to someone that you have such an affinity with.). This term of love can be so intense that you can feel helpless without that person with you, its a mad kind of love. It makes you excited and giddy when you think of that person. You can't bare to see them hurt. Its a recognition of something that actually I think is very hard to put into words. Its such an extreme love as well. It can make you grit your teeth in excitement when you hug or kiss your lover. It can be possessive, dominating and ugly as well as beautiful. It is, in my opinion, a far to complicated emotion for a one syllable word to encompass.

An example of the word completely failing at is task would be between to male friends. They do love each other, yet the word also expresses too much as it is used for a lover. So when said between two men it is usually the accompanied by some outburst of friendly violence or comments running along the line of confirming how straight they are.

So poets and writers have tried to explain what the word love means to them. Most of them accomplish a good description, but can it ever really be the definitive answer? An individual's love is different from anyone else, they feel it in any number of ways. Why make it hard for ourselves and have only one measly word for a huge emotion?

I think that there should be more words for the different types of love that we experience every single day.

Instead of a story today here is a poem for a poems sake...

I am a scarf,

Not a giraffe.

Though the length of my neck may confuse you,

it was not my intention.

No sense of doubt...

So looking back at the few typos of the first post I intend to make this a much better written post, with less mistak es and more gooder.

Another day and another lack of rejection. The routine check of the email inbox, a slight knot in your chest when you see the email counter and hoping that maybe one of them could be a job offer. A seven figure pay check!

But no.

Obviously my rule has not been enforced yet.

It is funny really that when looking for a job you start with high expectations, hoping you will find that ideal job for you. But there never really is that ideal job because, lets face it, you actually have no idea what you really want to do. After a while it becomes a case of wanting to do anything that will bring in some money.

After going off to university everyone from the group of friends from home seem to be a little distant from each other. So I decided when I got back that I was going to try and get everyone back together. It proves a lot harder than you might think. To get everyone to come out on the same night takes a lot of effort! Mainly because no one will commit to anything unless others are going out.

Its a vicious circle really.

But being persistent will win out I think.

I have decided with each of my posts I will write a short story, a way to keep my writing going and not get a block with the serious pieces I am working on.

Jack had figured out his problem a long time ago. He didn't need to waste any time on sitting in on a sofa and talking at a person who was counting your words per minute; figuring out how much they were getting paid for each boring syllable you sprouted. He remembered seeing a pair of troll earrings, you remember those ugly little trolls with the fluorescent spike of hair. He asked his mother for them and she had said no, with a raised eyebrow, probably questioning why her seven year old son would want girls earrings. He had waited till her back was turned then slipped them into his pocket. He didn't even have pierced ears. Thats was his earliest memory of his problem, but for all he knew he could have been taking others building blocks even earlier.

It didn't matter what it was but he just could not help himself; a biscuit from the lunch ladies, a friend's lego man, a road closed sign, a brick, a clip for holding up a hanging basket and a pair of crampons (no not a tampon). As he grew so did his horde. One day at the age of sixteen he had taken a step back and looked at his many things and realised that he was a kleptomaniac.

People have always wanted to find a job doing something that they loved and Jack had managed to achieve that dream. As the years passed he got better and better and pilfering things. Being a thief had afforded him a lavish life style. He hung around the social elite; attended many a soiree, grand openings and unveilings. All the time using his charm and wit to scope out the value of each rich snob's estate.

The end to his lucrative condition was not what you might be expecting. Jack fell in love. At one of the events he so frequently attended he spotted the daughter of James Templeton. He knew, for a start, that going near the Templeton girl was a bad idea; her father being a renowned gangster. But as you may have guessed this was something of a turn on for poor Jack. He was always a confident young lad when in front of a crowd but this girl set his heart racing. He stumbled over his words and stole the generic chat up lines. In all, it did not go well. His life became a bit of a con after this. He followed the Templeton girl around, bumping into her to steal an earring or a necklace. Creating what could only be described as a shrine within his treasure trove.

It was not so obvious until he broke into her room one night intent on stealing something he could not return. Needless to say he was caught. And now we are here and up to date. My little girl is safe, and the Jack of knaves has found his way into a safe he is unlikely to be able to crack.

Ooom Whatcha Say?

Considering this is my first blog post I guess the place to start is the beginning...

Before there was life, before there was planets, stars, there was a collection of gases [Insert other interesting theories of creation here]. Blah blah blah. [Generic blog humour here].

So that brings us up to date! On a more personal level to me I realised something about myself recently. My mind has an incurable tendency to wander. If anything becomes the tiniest bit uninteresting I find myself in a little fantasy world. Sometimes just into a world in the not far future where I am sat doing something that really interests me. If I was to liken myself to any character on the television then it would have to be John Dorian from scrubs due to his phantasmagorical wandering mind as well. The weirdest fantasy I had was during an exam and I had finished far to early and had managed to check through my work several times. I then imagined what would happen if 28 days later infection forms ran into the big hall we were in. I imagined the dedicated students trying to finish; getting slammed out of their chairs, some getting infected and spitting blood all over their work and scribbling violently. I imagined the examiner at the front being the first to go, announcing "five more minutes..." cut short by an infected tackle.
Some student being caught for cheating,
the examiner walking towards him with a purpose,
his sigh of relief as he is jumped by a blood vomiting saviour.
I ended up smiling and laughing to myself.

I think that there should be a rule. A rule that no matter how much you don't want to employ someone you still have to tell them. Searching for a job is slightly soul crushing. Dealing with rejection is fine, at least when you are told "no" you know where you stand. But to be completely ignored is horrible. You wouldn't do it if someone was stood right in front of you and asking you to employ them. You could not just ignore them. It would be a disgusting way to act. So not aknowledging that someone has sent you a CV is just as bad.
Upsetting.