IPOD
RADIO
I'm happy.
I know, crazy, isn't it?
I've just had the best weekend in bloody ages. I got a parking ticket, and stuck in a traffic jam, I was bitten by fleas (there's a bite on the back of my leg that feels roughly the size of the moon), I was poisoned by a murderous former Suicide Girl, and am left with a body that is suffering the after effects of what can only be described as extended alcohol poisoning.
It was brilliant.
I drove down to Brighton on Thursday afternoon for a wedding that was taking place on Friday, and I hadn't finished filling out the parking permit (fat lot of good that did me, though I'm disputing the bloody ticket) before I was being whisked off to a pub. We later met the groom to be for some quiet drinks and, well, I don't know what time we quit, but I was a teensy bit drunk still when I got up (why is it when you wake up drunk it can be harder to balance than it was when you were walking home much, much, drunker?)
So. the wedding day, what can I say? This is how weddings should be done. I think the single moment that best sums it up was when the bride and groom finished their first dance and the DJ threw on Tool's Stinkfist, leading to the first wedding mosh I've ever seen. I'm pretty sure the people that run the idyllic venue out in the middle of nowhere would have never seen anything like it either
Here's me drinking a beer.
And here's me sucking off the ice bear.
I had no choice, It's where the vodka came out, I swear!
Anyway, the wedding after party venue kicked us out at about 5am, and, well, you can imagine how chipper that left everyone on Saturday. We did somehow manage to spend most of the day drinking though, and then I was forced to watch hours and hours and hours of AMV Hell, which probably isn't legal under the Geneva convention.
Sunday was pretty relaxed, I had a lovely lunch and then just chilled out watching shit zombies before making the long drive home.
I feel a bit like all my internal organs lost a fight today, but I really can't remember the last time I had so much fun, and I've just been in a really good mood
Hope you're all doing well
I know, crazy, isn't it?
I've just had the best weekend in bloody ages. I got a parking ticket, and stuck in a traffic jam, I was bitten by fleas (there's a bite on the back of my leg that feels roughly the size of the moon), I was poisoned by a murderous former Suicide Girl, and am left with a body that is suffering the after effects of what can only be described as extended alcohol poisoning.
It was brilliant.
I drove down to Brighton on Thursday afternoon for a wedding that was taking place on Friday, and I hadn't finished filling out the parking permit (fat lot of good that did me, though I'm disputing the bloody ticket) before I was being whisked off to a pub. We later met the groom to be for some quiet drinks and, well, I don't know what time we quit, but I was a teensy bit drunk still when I got up (why is it when you wake up drunk it can be harder to balance than it was when you were walking home much, much, drunker?)
So. the wedding day, what can I say? This is how weddings should be done. I think the single moment that best sums it up was when the bride and groom finished their first dance and the DJ threw on Tool's Stinkfist, leading to the first wedding mosh I've ever seen. I'm pretty sure the people that run the idyllic venue out in the middle of nowhere would have never seen anything like it either
Here's me drinking a beer.
And here's me sucking off the ice bear.
I had no choice, It's where the vodka came out, I swear!
Anyway, the wedding after party venue kicked us out at about 5am, and, well, you can imagine how chipper that left everyone on Saturday. We did somehow manage to spend most of the day drinking though, and then I was forced to watch hours and hours and hours of AMV Hell, which probably isn't legal under the Geneva convention.
Sunday was pretty relaxed, I had a lovely lunch and then just chilled out watching shit zombies before making the long drive home.
I feel a bit like all my internal organs lost a fight today, but I really can't remember the last time I had so much fun, and I've just been in a really good mood
Hope you're all doing well
http://www.vimeo.com/1211060?pg=embed&sec=1211060
If that doesn't make you smile, there's something wrong with you.
Best. Job. Ever.
If that doesn't make you smile, there's something wrong with you.
Best. Job. Ever.
I feel the need to write something, but I don't really know what to say.
Today was kind of a weird day. I was pretty down last night, and I slept pretty early, thought a good night's rest would be good for me. I ended up having a buttload of nightmares and getting a thoroughly crappy night's rest, waking up feeling miserable, and really not wanting to go into work.
I did anyway, and was blessed with it being a really easy day, taking far less time than I'd thought it would, leading to me getting out of work at about half 12 in lovely sunshine. I was certainly feeling a lot better than I had when I woke up.
I've been listening to a lot of podcasts lately in the car, my favourite still being This American Life and I've got quite a backlog of them. I picked one I hadn't got around to listening to from my playlist this morning, which turned out to be about plans, and the repercussions of things that seemed like a good plan at the time. The second story of the podcast was about a guy who'd made a plan at the age of 11, when his dad died, to invent a time machine, so he could go back in time and warn his dad that he was going to die. He worked on this plan in secret for a long time, building a replica of the time machine from the movie based on the H.G Wells story, and when it didn't work, he didn't give up, he set about learning everything there was to know about time travel. He ended up getting a PhD, and becoming a Physics professor, all the time working in secret on his time travel research. He didn't go public with it until he had to leave his position for health reasons, and dived back into it after a long period of having given up on his dream. When he published he made the front cover of New Scientist. His work may be the foundation of actual, real time travel. But, if his calculations are correct, the time travel will be limited, he'd never be able to go back to a point before the machine was turned on, he'd never be able to go back and warn his dad. Apparently, this doesn't bother him now. At some point, the reasons behind his obsession changed. It seemed like he'd finally come to terms with the death of his father, like it was enough now that he was doing something his dad would have been proud of.
Obsession is a strange thing, it can be a valuable tool up to a point, but eventually it seems if it is not satisfied it becomes something different, like the reason you began is lost, and the reason you continue is simply habit.
It's quite contradictory - good may be able to come of it, but the obsession itself is far from good. Would his dad still be proud of him if his work had come to nothing?
Today marks 10 years since my dad died. That's also a strange thing. Enough time has passed that I've pretty much come to terms with my own demons about it, so it's not a day that makes me sad, per se, but I still find myself thinking a lot. I guess it was just strange to come across that guy's story today.
Today was kind of a weird day. I was pretty down last night, and I slept pretty early, thought a good night's rest would be good for me. I ended up having a buttload of nightmares and getting a thoroughly crappy night's rest, waking up feeling miserable, and really not wanting to go into work.
I did anyway, and was blessed with it being a really easy day, taking far less time than I'd thought it would, leading to me getting out of work at about half 12 in lovely sunshine. I was certainly feeling a lot better than I had when I woke up.
I've been listening to a lot of podcasts lately in the car, my favourite still being This American Life and I've got quite a backlog of them. I picked one I hadn't got around to listening to from my playlist this morning, which turned out to be about plans, and the repercussions of things that seemed like a good plan at the time. The second story of the podcast was about a guy who'd made a plan at the age of 11, when his dad died, to invent a time machine, so he could go back in time and warn his dad that he was going to die. He worked on this plan in secret for a long time, building a replica of the time machine from the movie based on the H.G Wells story, and when it didn't work, he didn't give up, he set about learning everything there was to know about time travel. He ended up getting a PhD, and becoming a Physics professor, all the time working in secret on his time travel research. He didn't go public with it until he had to leave his position for health reasons, and dived back into it after a long period of having given up on his dream. When he published he made the front cover of New Scientist. His work may be the foundation of actual, real time travel. But, if his calculations are correct, the time travel will be limited, he'd never be able to go back to a point before the machine was turned on, he'd never be able to go back and warn his dad. Apparently, this doesn't bother him now. At some point, the reasons behind his obsession changed. It seemed like he'd finally come to terms with the death of his father, like it was enough now that he was doing something his dad would have been proud of.
Obsession is a strange thing, it can be a valuable tool up to a point, but eventually it seems if it is not satisfied it becomes something different, like the reason you began is lost, and the reason you continue is simply habit.
It's quite contradictory - good may be able to come of it, but the obsession itself is far from good. Would his dad still be proud of him if his work had come to nothing?
Today marks 10 years since my dad died. That's also a strange thing. Enough time has passed that I've pretty much come to terms with my own demons about it, so it's not a day that makes me sad, per se, but I still find myself thinking a lot. I guess it was just strange to come across that guy's story today.
I decided to quit my job yesterday.
Like, properly, I have a timeframe, when I want to get CVs out, when I need to get interviews by, when I'm handing in my notice.
My bosses have decided Saturdays will be mandatory for the foreseeable future, as they took on a load of contracts that can only be done on Saturdays, and have - strangely - been having trouble finding any staff to do them. So I've now been ordered to start getting out of bed at 5am on a Saturday and driving 200 miles.
GET FUCKED
I've had this vague leaving plan for ages, but solidifying it has actually left me really happy. Really happy.
The countdown begins!
I might go buy some new shirts for interviews...
Like, properly, I have a timeframe, when I want to get CVs out, when I need to get interviews by, when I'm handing in my notice.
My bosses have decided Saturdays will be mandatory for the foreseeable future, as they took on a load of contracts that can only be done on Saturdays, and have - strangely - been having trouble finding any staff to do them. So I've now been ordered to start getting out of bed at 5am on a Saturday and driving 200 miles.
GET FUCKED
I've had this vague leaving plan for ages, but solidifying it has actually left me really happy. Really happy.
The countdown begins!
I might go buy some new shirts for interviews...
For the last month I've been stuck on the same contract in Cambridge, and I've absolutely hated it. Apart from just hating Cambridge, and the fucking idiot cyclists that inhabit it* it was a 130 mile round trip every day, often slow work, in a building that was far too warm to not make you sleepy. My productivity was through the floor - for a few reasons - and my alarm was going off between 5 and 6 every day. It did not fill me with happiness every day.
Well, I finished it yesterday, and here I am, at 8:37, sitting on my bed having just got out of the shower. I have a job for the next couple of days about 3 miles away, and I don't need to be there until 9. It's contracts like the last month that make me realise just much I won't miss this job. It's contracts like today that make me realise just how much I will. It's a strange little life I lead.
*I ride a bike, and I fear cars. They're often driven by oblivious idiots and I'd imagine they fucking hurt when they hit you. The people of Cambridge seem to believe just because there are a few cycle lanes they own the streets, and all cars will magically stop for them, or move out of their way, and they also don't think all those funny lights and signs and markings on the road in any way apply to them. They are seriously, far, far worse, than London cyclists.
Well, I finished it yesterday, and here I am, at 8:37, sitting on my bed having just got out of the shower. I have a job for the next couple of days about 3 miles away, and I don't need to be there until 9. It's contracts like the last month that make me realise just much I won't miss this job. It's contracts like today that make me realise just how much I will. It's a strange little life I lead.
*I ride a bike, and I fear cars. They're often driven by oblivious idiots and I'd imagine they fucking hurt when they hit you. The people of Cambridge seem to believe just because there are a few cycle lanes they own the streets, and all cars will magically stop for them, or move out of their way, and they also don't think all those funny lights and signs and markings on the road in any way apply to them. They are seriously, far, far worse, than London cyclists.
In every country and in every age, the priest has been hostile to liberty. He is always in alliance with the despot, abetting his abuses in return for protection to his own.
-Thomas Jefferson
Please don't elect this man, he's a fucking idiot. Surely you've had enough of that?
I feel the need to update, but I don't have much to say. I could probably bullet point this down to a 5 second update, but let's pad things out a little.
You may recall me talking about job changes. Due to (the obvious) serious life changes that had to go on hold a little. Hopefully getting back on track now though, so things could well still be happening the same way, just with a bit of a delay, which would be good. I am utterly sick of my job. Doing something largely repetitive usually ends up with you on autopilot and stuck with the thoughts in your head. My thoughts have mostly been miserable lately, so I've fucking hated being at work. Stimulus. Please.
I fear I may be becoming a caffeine junkie. Largely because of work avoidance (although I think it started in Canada/America). I pass a Starbucks on the way to the contract I'm working on at the moment, and in an effort to avoid starting work I've been dropping in rather regularly. I've moved up to ventis now, and I was seriously considering that extra shot this morning. I may have to ditch my long held but never quite got around to plan of a bean grinder, I don't need any more excuses.
I just had a bloody brilliant weekend on a stag do. It completely fucked with my diet and metabolism, I've been eating more along the lines of little and often and by the middle of the first day - at Alton Towers - having not eaten for eight hours and ridden a number of rollercoasters my body hated me. Then I drank lots of beer.
I returned with many good memories, rather a large number of new friends, and fuckloads of bruises, most of which I have no clue of the origin. I got 2 hours sleep on Saturday night, came home and collapsed for hours. When I woke up at 8 I thought I was going to be screwed as far as sleeping that night went. Not so, still exhausted at half ten and straight to sleep. I ached horribly yesterday, and still pretty badly today.
I am greatly looking forward to the wedding. (I am also thankful it means I get another Friday off work, 3 day weekends should be the law!)
People keep telling me I'm coping with things really well. All I can think is if this is really well...
*sigh*
I've been printing out a lot of photos.
This one is a favourite at the moment, it's a reminder. Life is fucking crazy. It's glorious and terrible, rarely in equal measures and sometimes both at once, but it's so much better when you're brave.
This time tomorrow you could be crashing a party in a 26th floor Vegas penthouse. You never know.
You may recall me talking about job changes. Due to (the obvious) serious life changes that had to go on hold a little. Hopefully getting back on track now though, so things could well still be happening the same way, just with a bit of a delay, which would be good. I am utterly sick of my job. Doing something largely repetitive usually ends up with you on autopilot and stuck with the thoughts in your head. My thoughts have mostly been miserable lately, so I've fucking hated being at work. Stimulus. Please.
I fear I may be becoming a caffeine junkie. Largely because of work avoidance (although I think it started in Canada/America). I pass a Starbucks on the way to the contract I'm working on at the moment, and in an effort to avoid starting work I've been dropping in rather regularly. I've moved up to ventis now, and I was seriously considering that extra shot this morning. I may have to ditch my long held but never quite got around to plan of a bean grinder, I don't need any more excuses.
I just had a bloody brilliant weekend on a stag do. It completely fucked with my diet and metabolism, I've been eating more along the lines of little and often and by the middle of the first day - at Alton Towers - having not eaten for eight hours and ridden a number of rollercoasters my body hated me. Then I drank lots of beer.
I returned with many good memories, rather a large number of new friends, and fuckloads of bruises, most of which I have no clue of the origin. I got 2 hours sleep on Saturday night, came home and collapsed for hours. When I woke up at 8 I thought I was going to be screwed as far as sleeping that night went. Not so, still exhausted at half ten and straight to sleep. I ached horribly yesterday, and still pretty badly today.
I am greatly looking forward to the wedding. (I am also thankful it means I get another Friday off work, 3 day weekends should be the law!)
People keep telling me I'm coping with things really well. All I can think is if this is really well...
*sigh*
I've been printing out a lot of photos.
This one is a favourite at the moment, it's a reminder. Life is fucking crazy. It's glorious and terrible, rarely in equal measures and sometimes both at once, but it's so much better when you're brave.
This time tomorrow you could be crashing a party in a 26th floor Vegas penthouse. You never know.
Thanks to everyone for your nice comments on my last journal, especially those offering an ear. If I didn't take you up on it it's because I have some already, and there's only so many times you want to go over things, the offers were still very much appreciated though.
I don't really know what I'm doing right now, everything is up in the air. I am dreading the prospect of moving again so soon, I've accumulated far too much shit to be shifting it around on a regular basis (I didn't even get everything from my mum's from my last move yet) and the idea of ebaying it all and living out of a suitcase is becoming appealing. That said I'd need a hefty suitcase to fit my TV in and I can't see me giving it up anytime soon, so I guess I'll figure something out.
I do have some good things coming up to focus on, starting with a trip to Alton Towers next Friday. I've never been, I've never even been on a proper rollercoaster (I do remember going on a wooden one about ten years ago, I think it was in Great Yarmouth, it was rickety as fuck which managed to make it terrifying even though it went about half the speed you'd get sliding down your stairs in a sleeping bag) so I'm looking forward to potentially crying or being sick
Really though, I haven't got a lot going on right now, just ploughing through things. I'll try and come up with something interesting to post about next time, no promises though
I don't really know what I'm doing right now, everything is up in the air. I am dreading the prospect of moving again so soon, I've accumulated far too much shit to be shifting it around on a regular basis (I didn't even get everything from my mum's from my last move yet) and the idea of ebaying it all and living out of a suitcase is becoming appealing. That said I'd need a hefty suitcase to fit my TV in and I can't see me giving it up anytime soon, so I guess I'll figure something out.
I do have some good things coming up to focus on, starting with a trip to Alton Towers next Friday. I've never been, I've never even been on a proper rollercoaster (I do remember going on a wooden one about ten years ago, I think it was in Great Yarmouth, it was rickety as fuck which managed to make it terrifying even though it went about half the speed you'd get sliding down your stairs in a sleeping bag) so I'm looking forward to potentially crying or being sick
Really though, I haven't got a lot going on right now, just ploughing through things. I'll try and come up with something interesting to post about next time, no promises though
JULY 2008
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