It's been almost two months since my last post.
And I've realised, that after 1 term at university, I have nothing funny to say. Not one thing.
It's all gone, I don't know why and I don't know where. I'm ready to go home. Not to the place that's 'home' but to the people that make 'home' what it is. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure I've made some lifelong friends here already. But I'm just not prepared to give up everything I had before just because you're "supposed" to find your best friends when you go to uni. I've made some very good friends, and the best friends aren't always the ones that have been with you longest. But I know that they're the ones that will always be there for me if I need them.
So watch out Southend, I'll be back before you know it.
Serve the veal.
S.W. III
Friday, 3 December 2010
Friday, 8 October 2010
Pastures New
I know, I know; it's been a while. But with good reason! I've lately embarked on a new stepping stone in the hilarious series of events that is my life and am now attending University!
Despite the initial fears (of the upper class snobbery and ridiculous workload, the latter actual being completely true) I have made some friendships already that I know I will treasure for the rest of my life. Though I probably shouldn't blog after several bottles of wine and improvised fold songs about chlamydia-stricken Polar Bears, Bambi's Mum and a Salmon with a serious PMS problem by my irish counterpart, I felt that I owed it both to my readers and to myself, since I've had to vent by actually talking to other people (God forbid) rather than typing up a long list of complaints that most people probably won't read.
As much as I apologise for the lack of hilarity (I hope) that is expected of my posts (and if anyone comments on this expect serious repurcussions...SERIOUS) I should hopefully get into a more strict regime of posting once I've settled in and can find some free time.
As for now, I continue to explore the infinite abyss, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Despite the initial fears (of the upper class snobbery and ridiculous workload, the latter actual being completely true) I have made some friendships already that I know I will treasure for the rest of my life. Though I probably shouldn't blog after several bottles of wine and improvised fold songs about chlamydia-stricken Polar Bears, Bambi's Mum and a Salmon with a serious PMS problem by my irish counterpart, I felt that I owed it both to my readers and to myself, since I've had to vent by actually talking to other people (God forbid) rather than typing up a long list of complaints that most people probably won't read.
As much as I apologise for the lack of hilarity (I hope) that is expected of my posts (and if anyone comments on this expect serious repurcussions...SERIOUS) I should hopefully get into a more strict regime of posting once I've settled in and can find some free time.
As for now, I continue to explore the infinite abyss, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Thursday, 30 September 2010
Life is full of disappointments
Why is it always the trivial things that get to us the most? It seemed easy to get angry at the time, but in retrospect, what I allowed to bug me today (the purpose of this post if you will) really does pale in significance to some of the problems that people have to face every day of their lives.
But this is my blog, so instead you're just going to have to put up with my petty complaints.
Whenever I seem to make plans, my delusional expectations of their outcome tends to get the better of me and is some what different from real life. Today, I made the simple plan of getting my hair cut at the same place that I've had my hair cut for the last 7(ish) years with the same woman that's cut my hair for the last few years.
Alas, she was on her lunch break and my hair was cut by another...the level of treatment just didn't seem the same, the knowledge of exactly how I like it (I'm still talking about hair...you sick people) and so I left resembling something akin to the rough side of a sponge. Now this isn't because she was inadequate at her job, it's just because I had certain expectations and so as soon as they were crushed, I immediately resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't be satisfied, even if she had done as good a job as usual (I'm still waiting for the compliments to roll in...as it stands, nobody seems to have noticed anything as of yet...*sigh*). It's a good thing God made me such a lovely person otherwise there would have been no tip, I just didn't feel as if the same care and interest had been invested this time around.
But anyway, enough about hair, I've got loads of reeeeeallly interesting things for you to read.
Like the music playlist at the gym. As you well know, I've been without my dearly departed MP3 player for a few days now and thus am subjected to everybody else's music around me, be it in a shop, or some chav walking down the road, hand on crotch, blasting out "heavy beats" from his phone because he's of the opinion that everybody else wants to hear it.
In this case, somebody clearly thought that people would really want to workout to the works of Avril Lavigne, or failing that, slit-your-wrist emo music with whiney lyrics like "I loved you so muuuuuuuuuch, but you took out your knife of lies and stabbed me in the baaaaalllllllllssss. At least I've got that STI to remember you by." The last thing anyone wants when they're trying to look masculine and subtly pose in the mirror is crap music blaring out in the background.
All is not lost though.
Achievement of the day: Purchasing two Guinness Red pint glasses for a very modest fee instead of having to resort to the old drunken "slip-the-glass-in-your-coat-pocket-when-you-go-to-the-toilet" trick
But this is my blog, so instead you're just going to have to put up with my petty complaints.
Whenever I seem to make plans, my delusional expectations of their outcome tends to get the better of me and is some what different from real life. Today, I made the simple plan of getting my hair cut at the same place that I've had my hair cut for the last 7(ish) years with the same woman that's cut my hair for the last few years.
Alas, she was on her lunch break and my hair was cut by another...the level of treatment just didn't seem the same, the knowledge of exactly how I like it (I'm still talking about hair...you sick people) and so I left resembling something akin to the rough side of a sponge. Now this isn't because she was inadequate at her job, it's just because I had certain expectations and so as soon as they were crushed, I immediately resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't be satisfied, even if she had done as good a job as usual (I'm still waiting for the compliments to roll in...as it stands, nobody seems to have noticed anything as of yet...*sigh*). It's a good thing God made me such a lovely person otherwise there would have been no tip, I just didn't feel as if the same care and interest had been invested this time around.
Like the music playlist at the gym. As you well know, I've been without my dearly departed MP3 player for a few days now and thus am subjected to everybody else's music around me, be it in a shop, or some chav walking down the road, hand on crotch, blasting out "heavy beats" from his phone because he's of the opinion that everybody else wants to hear it.
In this case, somebody clearly thought that people would really want to workout to the works of Avril Lavigne, or failing that, slit-your-wrist emo music with whiney lyrics like "I loved you so muuuuuuuuuch, but you took out your knife of lies and stabbed me in the baaaaalllllllllssss. At least I've got that STI to remember you by." The last thing anyone wants when they're trying to look masculine and subtly pose in the mirror is crap music blaring out in the background.
All is not lost though.
Achievement of the day: Purchasing two Guinness Red pint glasses for a very modest fee instead of having to resort to the old drunken "slip-the-glass-in-your-coat-pocket-when-you-go-to-the-toilet" trick
I'm the hero of this story, don't need to be saved
Perhaps I shouldn't have started my morning by watching (500) Days of Summer, instead of cracking on with the rather immense list of tasks that I've set myself today.
And even more to the point, perhaps I shouldn't have eaten Apple and Blackberry Pie (with a drizzle of custard) for breakfast.
But who am I to deny myself the final few luxuries of living at home before I finally accept complete responsibility for myself and fly the nest? When, in the foreseeable future, will I ever again get the opportunity to have a nice lie-in, followed by a light, indie romantic comedy and a dessert dish as my breakfast? These are truly the things to be missed, the things taken for granted every day of growing up.
The final few days are here. Packing awaits. The need to study still nags me like a child in a bakery, pressing it's greasy fingers against the freshly cleaned display cabinet glass. The thought of returning to the library haunts me...the faces of the laughing students, everything slows down, I leave a broken man. Remember me, but oh, forget my fate.
At least I've already purchased plenty of socks and underwear. And of course, THE token nice pair of underwear that every man should own.
And even more to the point, perhaps I shouldn't have eaten Apple and Blackberry Pie (with a drizzle of custard) for breakfast.
But who am I to deny myself the final few luxuries of living at home before I finally accept complete responsibility for myself and fly the nest? When, in the foreseeable future, will I ever again get the opportunity to have a nice lie-in, followed by a light, indie romantic comedy and a dessert dish as my breakfast? These are truly the things to be missed, the things taken for granted every day of growing up.
The final few days are here. Packing awaits. The need to study still nags me like a child in a bakery, pressing it's greasy fingers against the freshly cleaned display cabinet glass. The thought of returning to the library haunts me...the faces of the laughing students, everything slows down, I leave a broken man. Remember me, but oh, forget my fate.
At least I've already purchased plenty of socks and underwear. And of course, THE token nice pair of underwear that every man should own.
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
Seth's Infinite Playlist
For those of you whose curiosity was piqued by the announcement of "an intense 3 day playlist of songs to make you miss me when I'm gone", here is THE definitive list. That's right, you won't find this hot-off-the-press news leak anywhere else.
But if you'd rather wait and be pleasantly surprised by what comes up, avert thine eyes now and wait with bated breath for the next exciting installment!
Speedway - Counting Crows
Cast Away (Main theme) - Alan Silvestri
Don't You Forget About Me - Simple Minds
Across the Stars - John Williams (there had to be Star Wars, it wouldn't have been me otherwise)
Goodbye to You - Michelle Branch
Children in Bloom - Counting Crows
I hope you enjoy it.
But if you'd rather wait and be pleasantly surprised by what comes up, avert thine eyes now and wait with bated breath for the next exciting installment!
Speedway - Counting Crows
Cast Away (Main theme) - Alan Silvestri
Don't You Forget About Me - Simple Minds
Across the Stars - John Williams (there had to be Star Wars, it wouldn't have been me otherwise)
Goodbye to You - Michelle Branch
Children in Bloom - Counting Crows
I hope you enjoy it.
A Murder of One
It seems so strange how certain superstitions have become so ingrained in the human psyche of modern day society. For example, take the old rhyme about Magpies (or Crows if you're American). Now I don't claim to be superstitious at all, and yet for some reason, whenever I see a single, solitary magpie (sorrow), I search erratically for a second (joy) so that I can continue the day without the nagging feeling of bad luck coming my way.
But as a wise, animated Turtle once said, "We often meet our destiny on the path we take to avoid it." In this circumstance, I would say that any bad luck we meet on that day is purely coincidental or in fact produced psychosematically by our sub-conscious because of our experience with the bird(s) and thus we attribute any "sorrow" to this. I have always strongly believed that this kind of superstition is unhealthy as there is no logical or rational reason as to why seeing birds should affect the outcome of our mood...unless of course they choose to defecate, in which case I certainly can't see silver or gold (5 & 6 respectively) as a product of this.
But it is very much a part of human nature to want to view luck as a mystical force, affected by birds, black cats and umbrellas and the strong desire to know exactly what lies in store for them, even if they don't realise that they are in control of their own fate and more often than not end up forging it for themselves.
But as a wise, animated Turtle once said, "We often meet our destiny on the path we take to avoid it." In this circumstance, I would say that any bad luck we meet on that day is purely coincidental or in fact produced psychosematically by our sub-conscious because of our experience with the bird(s) and thus we attribute any "sorrow" to this. I have always strongly believed that this kind of superstition is unhealthy as there is no logical or rational reason as to why seeing birds should affect the outcome of our mood...unless of course they choose to defecate, in which case I certainly can't see silver or gold (5 & 6 respectively) as a product of this.
But it is very much a part of human nature to want to view luck as a mystical force, affected by birds, black cats and umbrellas and the strong desire to know exactly what lies in store for them, even if they don't realise that they are in control of their own fate and more often than not end up forging it for themselves.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Every song must end
And here I am, already posting again.
Why does everything around me seem to be breaking?! First my folding bike makes an attempt on my life (as explained earlier), then my laptop decides not to run the internet, making it very difficult to get anything done at all and prompting me to start searching for a new laptop. Unfortunately, most retailers only offer a payback/credit service over time where they can bend you over their counter and rape you for interest (about 19.8%!!!!). And finally my faithful MP3 player, the one thing I own NOT to give me any grief, finally packed it in today...
I anticipate some form of health defect next, most likely a heart attack, lurking around a corner somewhere. The strange spot on my chest that resembles a third nipple will have to suffice in that area for now.
Still, at least things can't get any worse! (Famous last words, expect several more complaint-related posts over the next few days!)
Why does everything around me seem to be breaking?! First my folding bike makes an attempt on my life (as explained earlier), then my laptop decides not to run the internet, making it very difficult to get anything done at all and prompting me to start searching for a new laptop. Unfortunately, most retailers only offer a payback/credit service over time where they can bend you over their counter and rape you for interest (about 19.8%!!!!). And finally my faithful MP3 player, the one thing I own NOT to give me any grief, finally packed it in today...
I anticipate some form of health defect next, most likely a heart attack, lurking around a corner somewhere. The strange spot on my chest that resembles a third nipple will have to suffice in that area for now.
Still, at least things can't get any worse! (Famous last words, expect several more complaint-related posts over the next few days!)
Day One (or 'How the Monkey Lost his Banana')
Here we are then. The big wide world of blogging. Please, PLEASE stop me if at anytime I begin to sound pretentious. No objections? Here we go.
I ride a folding bike (some would call it a "commuter's bike"; I intend to should I ever get pulled over the police...don't ask why). This bike folds down to a smaller size that was somewhat more appealing in the premise of simply owning a more easily compact bike for the purposes of storage and travel.
Bikes do not like me. This must be the case, otherwise I would have far better luck with them. As it stands, other than the fairly frequent punctures I am made to suffer through, I have only had two main problems with this bike. One is the failing gear system that does not permit me to change gear when cycling for fear of death. The other is the right pedal that shot off during a cycle ride along a busy road. A veritable deathtrap surely.
So here I am, having gone a week bike-less and relying on the less-than-agreeable public transport that my fair town offers, only to be messed around by a certain bike-repair business of good repute so that I will have to wait until I move to University on Saturday before any repairs can be made. Oy vey!
So far, this blog is serving the purpose of allowing me to vent my considerable anger at the world. Here's hoping that the few (if any) readers haven't died of boredom yet. Moaning sesh pt. 2:
My local library is a shambles. Unfortunately I don't find my home environment to be particularly condusive to learning or studying, mostly due to the temptation of the fridge, and so I resigned myself to a long study session of New Testament Greek and Classical Hebrew at the library in preparation for my studies, especially since I've procrastinated for far too long now (and yet here I am, "blogging" instead of studying). Even more unfortunate was the fact that I had not entered other people (or "Hell" as Jean-Paul Sartre might refer to them) into the studying equation. Students at the local college, for some completely unknown reason, choose the public library over any other facilities that their college might provide for them. And instead of studying, they choose to talk. And eat. LOUDLY.
And so, when I pleasantly ask them to keep the noise down for the sake of everybody else...they decide to laugh at me. And eat. LOUDER. And drop pens on the desk, repeatedly. And talk in a loud whisper that, if anything, is more distracting than their usual volume.
So I leave, defeated and no more versed in the languages of my forefathers than when I'd entered. Which brings me here, to my faithful Craptop, as uncompromising and temperamental as my preferred mode of transport.
Tomorrow is another day.
I ride a folding bike (some would call it a "commuter's bike"; I intend to should I ever get pulled over the police...don't ask why). This bike folds down to a smaller size that was somewhat more appealing in the premise of simply owning a more easily compact bike for the purposes of storage and travel.
Bikes do not like me. This must be the case, otherwise I would have far better luck with them. As it stands, other than the fairly frequent punctures I am made to suffer through, I have only had two main problems with this bike. One is the failing gear system that does not permit me to change gear when cycling for fear of death. The other is the right pedal that shot off during a cycle ride along a busy road. A veritable deathtrap surely.
So here I am, having gone a week bike-less and relying on the less-than-agreeable public transport that my fair town offers, only to be messed around by a certain bike-repair business of good repute so that I will have to wait until I move to University on Saturday before any repairs can be made. Oy vey!
So far, this blog is serving the purpose of allowing me to vent my considerable anger at the world. Here's hoping that the few (if any) readers haven't died of boredom yet. Moaning sesh pt. 2:
My local library is a shambles. Unfortunately I don't find my home environment to be particularly condusive to learning or studying, mostly due to the temptation of the fridge, and so I resigned myself to a long study session of New Testament Greek and Classical Hebrew at the library in preparation for my studies, especially since I've procrastinated for far too long now (and yet here I am, "blogging" instead of studying). Even more unfortunate was the fact that I had not entered other people (or "Hell" as Jean-Paul Sartre might refer to them) into the studying equation. Students at the local college, for some completely unknown reason, choose the public library over any other facilities that their college might provide for them. And instead of studying, they choose to talk. And eat. LOUDLY.
And so, when I pleasantly ask them to keep the noise down for the sake of everybody else...they decide to laugh at me. And eat. LOUDER. And drop pens on the desk, repeatedly. And talk in a loud whisper that, if anything, is more distracting than their usual volume.
So I leave, defeated and no more versed in the languages of my forefathers than when I'd entered. Which brings me here, to my faithful Craptop, as uncompromising and temperamental as my preferred mode of transport.
Tomorrow is another day.
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