Underscores make for the best titles, so without further ado: _

As I sit here in my room, listening to the incessant sounds of small children playing whilst waiting for Miriam to get back from work (so that I may ring her) I realise that I have somewhat of a growing dependancy on her.

I realise that soon it will be so advanced that I won't really feel entirely right if I'm not with her.

This makes me feel a little vulnerable and a little bit too much like a teenager than I am normally accustomed to, but I don't really care either.

Because I am a hapless, love-struck fool and couldn't be more glad about it.

And also I'm a ninja (to even out the large amount of non-manliness in this entry).

Watertight

For the first time in what has seemed like quite a long while I feel more than content with my life. The happiness I attempt to hold close to me no longer trickles through the cracks in my cupped hands; it simply stays.

I feel like a lightbulb that has been turned on for the first time in years, illuminating darkness and bathing its surroundings in warmth. 

Like a puzzle made a little more complete thanks to the recent addition of a few pretty pieces.

I will end the sappiness here as the source of my happiness is a reader and I do not want her to think that I am lame.

blergh.

I cannot help but feel that if I truly wanted to I could make the jump from loveless to romantically successful. It is as if romance is merely beyond my fingertips, almost like it is taunting me. 

Maybe I should humour the sadistic entity that is love and make an attempt at some sort of romantic acquaintanceship.

Also.

My love life is unusually uneventful lately and I am very stressed about school and growing up and trying to get into a university and if I'm really cut out to be a doctor or if I'm just one of those people who sets their goals way too high and if I'll even be any good at it or if I'll just end up killing a bunch of people and having to go to jail for criminal negligence.

But yeah, shit's pretty sweet too.

"There's love if you want it, don't sound like no sonnet, my love"

Absence

If you're wondering why I have been neglecting this blog, then wonder no more; that curiosity that has just been eating away at you over the past few days shall soon be quelled.

(Ah, online sarcasm... is there really anything greater?)

My absence may be explained by a very simple observation. Whenever there is a noticeable lack of tragedy in my life, there is a noticeable atmosphere of boredom. Well that's not entirely true, the lack of tragedy also has to coincide with a severe lack of anything interesting.

It saddens me that my life should require someone to fuck me over in order to be interesting. It saddens me more that more often than not, it is I who does the fucking over and am also the one being fucked over in the process. 

I really shouldn't let my pitiful, melodramatic teen angst get me down, so I'll leave before it does.

mmm.

Pathetic.scum.filth.sleaze.slime.

I am a pathetic, lovelorn fool.

When confiding my problems in a friend recently I was told that I should simply 'go with the flow'. This is all well and good to say, except for the fact that I have never had any apparent perception of 'flow'.

Instead of trying to judge something which I know that I cannot, I simply attempt to make my own flow. Results are rarely good and often disastrous.

But then again, would 'going with the flow' really yield any positive results either? I mean, it seems only logical that we should have to struggle for that which we want. Maybe a better piece of advice would be to fight the flow, because let's face it, life wants nothing more than to make you its bitch. 

Although the current predicament I am in  would have been made a whole lot easier had I not fought against the currents of life in a previous situation. 

Maybe I have a subconscious desire to be severely unhappy. I am always either bereft through fate or choice. But then again, it seems only right a guy my age should have some form of commitment problem. I should just stop reading into things so very deeply. 

All in all, I am one severely fucked up individual.

What in hell's name is wrong with me?

I've been down this road before, and I know that it's probably just going to lead to something either very depressing or very frustrating (or most likely both).

I think I'll take my chances and go down there. It is a very scenic route after all.

Oh women, you make me feel worse than anything else in the world. But I keep coming back for more, don't I.

You know, I really don't know.

I like having conversations like that; where everything the other person says is said solely to make you think better of them so that maybe you can make some stupid decisions later on.

And stupid decisions I made, but she said it was a mistake. I'm sure I'd be alright if she wasn't so darned amazing.

*Sigh* Why do these amazing girls keep coming so close and then running away?

But I'm almost sure this one is my fault entirely once again.

Maybe it's because my personality is so shallow. I mean I'm sure it seems exciting for the first few hours or so of conversation, but once you get past that initial stuff I'm really just not that great. Maybe I should work on that.

Or get prettier/handsomer, I'm sure that'd help.

I better get to bed before I get all depressed like every other time I write in this stupid blog.

Does anyone even read this thing anymore?

You left me with a bad taste in my mouth.

I've realised that I'm nothing more than the 'mistake' to any girl I show any affection towards.

It's all I am and probably all I'll ever be.

Realisations.

A good friend told me last night that I am probably destined to be one of those people who spend their whole life alone, looking for a significant other. She also told me that if she wasn't such a good friend she'd think I was an overly emotional sleaze. It was very blunt, but I'm glad someone was honest with me.

It bummed me out a fair bit since I feel that this good friend has had nothing short of a huge impact on my life, even if I don't see her much anymore. But those words she spoke really did ring true.

In saying that however, I also feel that it's not my fault I desire some meaningful human contact in my life.

I also feel that the fact that I do get a bit frustrated or maybe a little emotional when I am denied that much is only logical. I'm not one to stand down when something doesn't go my way, which is probably why this good friend of mine told me I'd be alone my whole life.

I think I should stop posting in this, it's really just horribly written, self-pitying drivel that makes me feel much worse than I probably should.

But hey that's realisations for you; often depressing and rarely amazing.

You'll be damned to pining through the windowpanes you know?

Over the ramparts you tossed
The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
Tied to a brick
Sweet as a song
The years have been short but the days were long.

I can't help but feel as if this is all my fault. I know that deep down I've gone wrong somewhere; I've done something I shouldn't have or said something the completely wrong way. I've let something amazing slip through my fingers and have no one to blame but myself. 

One day, I'll be good at this,  I'll be able to say and do all the right things. But until then I guess I should just get used to flying solo (WARNING, cynical lols ahead: "though it feels a little more like crash and burn solo, amiright?").

Well, that was a depressing blog entry. So here's pretty much my thoughts at the moment in short:

Fuck our human nature and that most primal desire which is to feel loved (and therefore continue our race).

Fuck the fact that I'm not good at this whole 'women' business.

Fuck the fact that the combination of these two make for one relatively unhappy individual.

And most of all, fuck the fact that I only gauge my self-esteem on other's views of me (writing it down will change nothing).

I guess I'll just raise my glass and keep it in eh?

This is the beginning of tonight's blog.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

That concludes tonight's blog.

I am the horribly cliche type of guy.

I can't help but feel as if my life lacks meaning, a certain sense of direction. I'd even go as far as to say that there's nothing I'm really even fervent about right now. Well, actually that's a lie; I guess there are some things I really do apply myself to with vigor.. passion even (it sounds horribly cliche, but I'm just that type of a guy).

But what use is applying passion if it only lands me in some dank pit of ambiguity and gloom?It's probably the small hope that maybe one day I'll climb out of that pit and be met with certainty and happiness. 

But until then I'm just sitting here trying as hard as I can to find my way out; and from my attempts, it seems that I'm not a very good climber.. not in the least.

One should also note that my life isn't all doom and gloom. Though I may not be where I ideally want to be at this very moment and while I am not quite content with staying there, I am still very much quite happy that I at least mean something (though what that something is I am very unsure of).

jklsjfl

I wish that I wasn't so impatient; then I wouldn't have to be so very despondent so very often.

I wish that I wasn't so very melodramatic when anything doesn't immediately go my way; then I wouldn't inadvertently hurt people with my self pitying drivel.

But more than these, I just wish life were a little more perfect and a lot easier.

 

This is possibly the worst blog I've ever written.

I want to make some time for reading, I recently bought some really nice books and would very much enjoy a day where I could just laze about and read.  But I'm sure I'll have plenty of days where I'll be able to do this on the holidays. Especially seeing as I'm being taken to Brisbane for the majority of my holidays.

In fact I could probably be spending this time reading. But for some strange reason I do not feel compelled to anymore.

I could sit here and write a huge paragraph about what I'm feeling, but I think I'll be a little more blunt and just say it straight up.

I just tried to be blunt and was met with dismal failure, so I guess I'll just write some ambiguous and emotionally retarded paragraph.

Maybe I should start this off by first saying that I am not a very patient man. I do not enjoy waiting for things and barely, if ever see the point of said waiting.

So anyone who knows my current predicament must now realise that I feel as if I am going slightly insane. This is more because of the ambiguity that waiting breeds than anything else.

But the euphoric moments when I'm full of hope are also extremely good; the best I've felt in a long time. So I don't really know what to think.

Also I'm pretty sure you should tell me what you said :)

I'm no free spirit; I'm just fucking lonely.

I try to put on a big act that everything doesn't worry me too much.  But somewhere beneath what I'm sure is an extremely shallow mask lies the not-so-well-hidden fact that I'm just some sentimental screw up with a lot of insecurities and a case of unrequited affection.

But this is probably just me over-thinking and scrutinizing every little detail in my life. 

It's amazing how one small act can affect me so profoundly, how one nonchalant comment can make me rethink and question a lot of the decisions I've made in life. I wish I could exude confidence as easily as everybody else seems to. But maybe deep down everyone feels this way, and I'm just a rubbish actor?

I just wish that life could be a whole lot easier than it was, but then again, I'd probably complain about that too.

This is why nobody should ever take my complaining to heart, because when it all comes down to it that's all it is: complaining.

Damn these titles.

It's probably just because I'm tired (and when I get tired I do get a little grumpy and depressive) or possibly because I've just gotten over a wave of euphoria, but I'm seeing a lot of negative aspects in everything lately. 

It's hard to explain but I just can't help but feel as if everything I've been saying lately is useless and inadequate. I'd say it's all stemming from some frustrating things that have been happening lately. I mean it's only really frustrating because I can't help but feel that happiness is just one small step away.  You know I feel really immature and selfish writing these things down. But I guess no matter what anyone says to disprove it, man has a natural disposition to put himself before others.

I know I like her, I just wish she could be a little clearer about how she feels. In saying that however, I don't want to rush her because she has just gotten out of something that was probably quite traumatic and damaging to her.

I guess this is why they say patience is a virtue. Yet patience does scare me a little bit too, I can't help but fear that if I wait too long things will get tepid. 

In conclusion, I'm a bit of a fuckhead with a bad case of selfishness.

You might as well just not read it.

I have nothing to write about, so please excuse the first few sentences as I ramble on until I find something with some substance to talk about.

I wish life were easy. In a perfect world we could all have exactly what we wanted without it impacting upon anyone else- nah that's a lame subject bro.

Talk about women.

It does kind of hurt you know, but only in a selfish sort of way.

What's a few weeks (or months for that matter) of waiting going to do?

I guess the real problem here is that I fear the aftermath of her confusion. What if she realises she doesn't have those feelings for me?

At least I'm not really feeling that whole rejection blues thing anymore, which I guess is a plus.

She is rather amazing though.

Sorry for the lame blog, I'm drained bro.

If you say fork fast enough it sounds dirty.

I hate these forks in the road where you have to choose one way or another. We have no way of knowing what lies ahead on these paths, and what is frustrating is that they're probably going to end up at the same place. Do we continue down a path that requires hope and will most likely lead to exactly where we are now, or do we take the other path just to spice things up for a change?

The only method of deciding on my route is through my current outlook on life, which isn't much help since it seems to change almost daily.

I'm tired of being awash in these pedantic motions. I need some certainty in my life, something that I can hold onto.

Can't think of a title.

Why is it that I have this tendency to liken every aspect of my life towards movies. Is it because hollywood shows no integrity in any of the movies I watch and they always end on a positive not?Is it because I see these movies and empathise, because I too aspire to have my life on a (more?) positive note? I'd say this is definitely the main reason. 

I don't know why, but I've been feeling extremely insecure lately. It's hard to voice these insecurities because I really can't put my finger on either the root or many of the symptoms of the problem. I just wish I was whatever (whoever?) it is I want to be, I'm sure it'd make life a whole lot easier.

Well, enough of my incessant whinging, here's that longer, typed affirmation I promised you Megan:

I know I've said it before, but I sincerely believe that you should never change; here's some of the reasons why:

I know that I go a bit far with my jokes, especially those of the sexist category. There is really only one thing that really makes me stop, or at least ease up on them these days. This is my fear that for even one short moment in time that you might stop smiling and glare at me. You should be proud of this glare, it is a very useful glare.

There are not many people in this world that I can talk literature to, and to have someone like you who not only knows of writers but has also read some of their works makes me feel a lot less isolated. Especially when I can so effortlessly change the author of our focus from Austen to Rowling (I've said it before, but I really do like that).

A lot of downright miserable stuff has happened to you lately, and I want you to know that you're an amazing person and as such do not deserve these things. But I also know that you're a strong willed, independent and beautiful person; so if anyone can power through these things, it's you.

If it were not for my male intellect, clouded by my sex drive, I'm quite sure that I could be perfectly content with friendship.

But I am what I am and  cannot hope for anymore.

blahblahblahblahblahblah

 I am sad. 

That is all.

Yeh bro, I feel it.

Upon taking the plunge I realised a moment too late that happiness was not at the bottom of the drop, but high above me upon some unreachable pedestal. At this moment in time it seems unattainable.

Nietzche, I know not of the reason I listened to your deceptively optimistic works. 

I shall now console myself with the works of Schopenhauer. His cynical and pessimistic attitude may not be romantic, but is certainly a little more realistic than the crap Nietzche made me believe.

In the words of Adam Sandler: 

"Love stinks."

Get back.

Nietzche philosophised that man can not have both great pleasure and little disappointment. Both pleasure and pain are intertwined in unfathomable ways, he says.

To derive the most pleasure from life, we must also bear the burden of disappointment, rejection and loss. 

For those of us who fear these things (especially if it is to an extent that it impacts upon our risk taking measures) we will be spared much of the atrocities of love. We will also, however, be ignorant of the many joys of a real relationship.

I am stuck somewhere between these two extremes; skirting the boundaries of risk yet always ending up safe inside my own conservative world.

Why can I not just step off this isolated ledge into what could very well be the happiness I long for?

Yahyahyahyahyahyahay

It is unfair that she is so wonderful and I am so normal. I do not, however, want her to change in any aspect whatsoever. All the change I want needs to come from myself and myself alone. I want to change only so that I can make her happy, so that she too may feel whatever the hell it is I am feeling right now. This is the vicious circle I am trapped in.

I revel in every slight hint of affection she shows me; be it the slightest of smiles, a trivial glance towards me or the far and few occasions that our eyes meet. If only I could feel as great as I do at these moments all the time.

Rejection.

I’m sure she wouldn’t be scared if I told her I liked her, I doubt that she’d even be surprised. Something is holding me back though, and I know what it is: a deep seated fear of rejection. There is nothing worse than being told that your love shall never be fulfilled and shall always remain unrequited.

I do not want this in the slightest.

I am not good at picking up women. period.

I dream of hundreds of ways in which I might win her heart; almost all of which require some sort of event that will more than likely never happen. In the unlikely event that chance will take pity upon me and the two of us shall be thrust upon fertile soils where love may bloom, I know exactly what I will say. Every word,  accent and utterance that comes forth from my lips shall create new bonds between us and I shall transcend this platonic love.

But alas, fate greets me not like an old friend but rather with the manner of a particularly disgruntled parent. I am made to stand upon my own two feet left to my own lackluster wit. Leaning forward, my hand lightly brushes the back of her arm. To extinguish the curiosity that has risen upon her face I simply smile and ask for a ballpoint pen.

I now feel as if I have jumped off the side of a very tall bridge.

ETA of the lion king: 3 minutes.

Sleepless nights for me.

I dream only of your face.

Yet you sleep soundly.

Geyarghh give it time Kieran.

You know I'm sad when I have to put on my pirate voice to cheer myself up.

I do not think I have ever felt so horrible in my entire life.

I'm about 90% sure that the girl I am currently trying to win the affections of is keen on my best friend.

Suck much? Fuck yeah.

Long time no speak, eh blog?

I'm sorry, I've just had a lot going on lately.

Well not a lot as in various amounts of activity; it's really just the monotony of my schoolwork that has kept me from posting.

I've also had some serious writers block; especially in relation to my current english assignment.  It's horrible and any effort at trying to write just leaves me feeling drained and stupid.

Maybe it has something to do with this horrible girl related infatuation I have. Oh my this one is very special; but I am getting a lot of mixed messages from her, which is extremely frustrating.

Au revoir.

We don't mean that much.

I hate it; there's always that anxiety that you have when you try to interpret signs. Are they saying these things to me because they're flirting and genuinely like me, or do they say this to every guy they talk to?  

I'm reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein for english. It's tough going. I mean don't get me wrong it's a great novel and all, but boy I'm pretty sure there's a good reason most authors don't spend whole pages describing breezes in a letter. I like the whole monster-more-human-than-the-creator thing that's going on. It's still the most long winded short story I've ever read though.

I'd make some comments on philosophy about here, but I'm all philosophised out. For Music Extension I'm doing an essay on expression of emotion through music (as well as the subsequent understanding of that emotion/s). It's all in the field of musical philosophy; which i didn't even know existed, but it does. But yes the more I read about the matter the more musical philosophy makes sense. There are many questions concerning it when you get down to it. I've had to read some Tolstoy on the matter actually, which reminded me of the IT crowd (in an obscure way). God I love that show.

But yeah, I'm theorizing about associationism and wether our comprehension of musical emotion is innate or acquired later in life through experience and cultural influence. I'll post it once I've finished it, as long as someone reminds me.

...Should be finished in about six weeks, maybe five if I'm organized.

Schoolies

God, I never really saw what was so interesting about schoolies. I mean it's just drinking for a week right? Wrong.

I've only recently realised that this is probably the last time that I will be with my friends for a long time. The last time we'll really be our complete group. 

Growing up sucks, I just want to stay young and not have to worry about higher education and pressure and stress and bills and budgets. Why can't i just go push a tire around the yard with a stick until I grow old and die? That'd be sweet.

And also:

I like a girl, a pretty girl who's smart and pretty and oh so pretty. She's a good friend and I feel oh so taken to her. Here's hoping that the feeling's mutual.

Posting again

I am posting again. 

I should be asleep, but right now this is about the only time I have to do things that I want to do.

Why is it that every effort I make must feel so extremely insignificant? It's probably just because I'm very tired, but I feel as if nothing I do really matters; as if I could go out and try my very hardest to try and change just one freaking thing and I'd get nothing out of it.

I guess this is that teenage angst everyone's been talking about.

Oh well I'm off now to read more about Frankenstein and his hideous monster.

Au revoir et a bientot, belle madames.

Raindrops on a hot tin roof.

Well, today was my first day of school. 

It wasn't too bad; I mean it sure as hell doesn't beat staying at home whilst playing guitar and myspacing, but it's good to see everyone again. 

I got revoltingly large amounts of homework today; physics is still as boring as ever.

I can't wait for my first MEXX class, that should be good.

I got to an interesting part in a philosophy book I was reading that talked about consolidation for sexual disfunction. I chuckled the whole way through.. well that's an exaggeration , but I did laugh a few times. There was a really cool part in there that talked about how for all of our human 'boons', like wisdom and such, we pay an extremely heavy price, like anxiety, stress, grief, that sort of thing.

I should do a real entry but it is quite late.

Don't worry I'll be back to writing vague and pseudo intellectual blogs in no time at all. Expect some complaining.

Oh and also, it's raining extremely heavy right now and it sounds great. I wish it sounded like this all the time.

I think it's time to blow this joint.

At present it is the eve before the first day of my senior year. 

I've got some very contradictory feelings regarding it. I'm both anxious and excited, for I'm sure this year will hold disappointment, a constant and deep seated nervousness as well as a heavy workload; on the other hand, however, this year is also going to be quite a lot of fun when I can get my mind off of my academic ambitions and desires. Oh well, enough about the foreboding, shadow of school which is currently looming over me.

I watched I Heart Huckabees this morning, it always makes me think, and I really just get some of the things the main character talks about. Especially in the ending scenes where he realises how life works (pretty much anyway) and he talks about how life isn't what either of those groups think it is. 

Brief group synopsis for the utterly confused:

One group believes that everything we do in life is connected. You know like there's no such thing as a coincidence and all that stuff. To quote Dustin Hoffman (who plays his role marvelously I might add) "If you look close enough at my nose, you can't tell where I end and the air begins".

And then you've got the other group.. well group is most probably the wrong word to use, since it's just a single woman. But anyway, she believes that we are all alone; nothing we do is connected, we are as separate as bodies in the universe.  

Group synopsis over.

Anyway, yeh the main character realises that life isn't about what either of them are spouting but kind of just somewhere in between. Like we are all alone, yet connected in ways that we don't really understand; but that doesn't mean everything we do has a meaning.

I can't really explain it that well, but it just makes so much sense to me whenever I watch the movie.

Probably not so much when I try to rationalize why though.

Oh well it's 10:30 and I have to comply with the rules the ol' gaol wardens are imposing. 

See you space cowboy..

I'm way too cliche with my metaphors

You know what I've come to realise? It's that this blog is just another mask, another tool to manipulate peoples view of me. But maybe that's exactly why I like writing this so much. It lets me be in complete control of my representation to you, the extremely avid and oh so enthusiastic reader (note the sarcasm).

On second thoughts masks are really much too cliche a metaphor to use here, and now that I think about it, totally inaccurate.

I'd say my personality is more like a lego set. It's capable of being something complete, but I'm not going to do that. But I'm like the unfocused youngster,  just dicking around making it into whatever seems like the best idea at the time even if it turns out to be a complete failure.

Or maybe it's more like a puzzle that no-one has ever really seen complete?

Whatever it is, it's confusing. It's probably just my raging teenage hormones and high levels of angst talking, but I'm not really even sure who I am.

Note to self: Stop falling for every girl who shows you affection, this is not The Mighty Boosh, things will not turn out well as they did for Howard.

It's enough to make anyone want to top themselves

Why is it that the most amazing girls are always caught up in such complicated matters? Furthermore, why is it that I feel compelled to jump right into the middle of these twisted love triangles and make a lame attempt at stirring things up?

But maybe, just maybe it's that these girls aren't amazing or brilliant in any way shape or form, but rather that I convince myself that they're all the epitome of perfection just because I'm fucked up enough to want to be in the middle of whatever situation they're in.

I'm going to find some brilliant girl who isn't madly in love with her ex boyfriend or has some horrible issues with her parents or likes to be bitten in bed. Neither of these are acceptable qualities in women; that's the truth no matter how many times I tell myself it's not.

Goodnight my lone reader. Hope this insight into my mind was.... insightful?

Do you know me?

I think I'm too cynical for my own good; I wish I could just romanticise reality and have an optimistic outlook. 

But no, I guess it's just my nature to focus on all that is bad in my life and nothing that is good. To see every fault in others and no redeeming qualities. 

Here's a badly written poem that uses too much rhyming. Enjoy everything I hate about myself.

The sun rises each and every day,

This much is an immutable fact.

Yet there are still those who say:

(With not the slightest discretion or tact)

 

“That for the two of us now and always this night shall last forever,

It doesn’t matter if we part, for our love will outlast eternity.”

I ask a simple question.

Why is the here and now too short for us to be together?

Is your haste so great that I am not permitted to admire your beauty?

 

To romanticise is to deny the sun,

This much is an immutable fact.

Yet to romanticise is to be two, not one.

So I say fuck my tact.

I'm too spent to be expending so much energy.

I have to go right now, but I promise that I will edit this tomorrow as well as post another entry.

Edit:

Well I'm a bit late with this blog, but that's probably because I've already written it. I wrote it and the power went out before I could publish it; life's a bitch eh?

I feel spent, exhausted and neglected and are in no way neither physically nor mentally prepared for the hell that is school. It was alright until senior, but it's definitely just way too stressful for me.  I always feel so depressed during the school term, so I'm definitely not looking forward to that.

No rest for the wicked

This is to be my first entry in the wonderful world of online blogging. 

Maybe I should start with why I have decided to create this page? Well we can put it down to one person really; someone who I don't really know all too well in the sense of time and space, but someone who has nonetheless influenced my life in profound and wonderful ways. The person I am talking about knows who she is (hopefully) and needs no further explanation to others unaware of her identity.

But without further ado, I present to you a vehement  tidal wave of the illogical ideas that inhabit my mind:

Sometimes it really is the little things that count, you know? Some offhanded remark can either leave you with a sense of great achievement or otherwise shattered to the very core of your psyche. The worst part of it all is that most of the time it is offhanded and nonchalant; it's like the person saying these things has no qualms with telling me that my dreams are bollocks or that I'm not very good at the things I do. I hate that every good feeling I have about myself can be reduced to rubble with some snide remark from some pretentious muppet. But you know, all that is just symptoms of something bigger. I hate being self conscious to an extent where I interpret every little thing someone says until I can find something wrong with everything I am.

I watched a movie that I had bought early last year and never gotten around to actually watching. It's titled The Libertine, and it follows the downward spiral of John Wilmot (the second earl of rochester, and a gifted, albeit a quite crude, poet) and his constant pursuit of temptation. It was such a good film that I decided to watch Trainspotting afterwards, to further follow this theme of complete and utter acceptance of some of mankinds greatest vices: sex and drugs. I also saw Into the Wild the other day. 

I think the combined effect of viewing these three movies within such a short space of time has given me a hopelessly naive longing to be free. To be my own man, to not be tied down anywhere. Maybe I'll go join some sort of travelling circus?

Well I'd better not drain my mind of all its crazy tonight; as well as scaring away my very few (and most probably single) blog reader/s, it will also exhaust me of ideas for future blogs.

See you space cowboy..