Time, and Lack of a better word for it.

After casually stressing over the recurring problem that is windows word (this time, just choosing when it wants to be American, and then changing my keyboard to have the quote mark as a ‘@’, mark – this being the personal devastation of the day).  I’ve brought myself aptly onto my next post a day after the previous, a personal best so far. But I fear this might fizzle out if no-one is remotely interested. For example today I was told that my writing was depressing. Christ, thanks mate – I’ll remember that very insightful critique next time I reach for the knife to carve ‘DEATH TO WINDOWS’ across my forehead.

This is the part where I talk about something, and it’s something that clearly effects me since I’m one of members of the “all nighters, go to work the next day” brigade, and it’s something that even though shouldn’t be done – is what I’ve done for the past year, and the most bizarre fact of the matter is, that I’m getting used to it. Sitting on a cold, lonely metro at 7.30am in the morning, half cut and still wearing the same clothes as you wore out the previous night, struck up many important and philosophical questions – one of my most mused is “if the Morning and the night had a fight, who’d win?”

My moneys most definitely on mornings.

Nights may be a touch sleeker and dangerous, but the mornings are definitely the stockier, harder of the two. It’s strange that staying up late is somehow regarded as “cooler” than getting up at the crack of dawn, when it’s the latter that truly separates the men from the boys. Any idiot can stay up till 6am drinking cider and jabber none stop to his friends about things that really shouldn’t be said to anyone, whereas queuing for the metro at 6.30am in the middle of winter requires a level of genuine grit normally reserved for the likes of pit boys in the early 1900’s.

At what point does night turn into morning? I’d say regardless of the sun coming up – the morning only truly starts at the point where you don’t have to apologise to your neighbours for loud music, or your bullhorn accidentally going off in the living room. Sometime around 8.30am, in other words anything earlier than that is just inhumane.
  

I’m not the natural morning person; infact the natural morning person ‘persona’ sickens me. With no solid morning work commitments, my sleeping patterns drift into that of a student, ambling further and further past the horizon until it gets to the point where I’m waking up at 2pm and then hitting the sack at around 6am in the morning, I’ll eventually become fully nocturnal. Like a vampire, but more of a loser and with less capacity for transforming into a bat and flapping about scaring virgins senseless.

Hopefully, having conquered space, technology should start to set about conquering time. It’s all very well office bods’ being able to hold a video conference without leaving their toilet. But there’s still that pesky nagging need to communicate with people in real time, which essentially means being awake at the same moment they are, and in my experience other people have a tendency to get up early and stand around tapping their watches. What I want is some kind of Sky+ system for humans, so I can store up conversations and then play them back at a time that suits me, preferably in the middle of the night. Which would suit me down to the ground.  

Blankness and Bill Gates, An Epic Struggle.

Back again, Armed with Microsoft word 2007 and Standardised UK language settings, and back to the normal format, after finding the “new blog post” feature of Word 2007, has no other great feature to it but to really irritate me by having fewer formatting features than word – yet pose as your ‘mate’ in a path of technological software enhancements. You’ve got to put it to Gates and the Microsoft crew – they just really are masters of getting on peoples tits, whilst being the default masters of the universe in their own right. C***’s.

I’m really finding it hard not to make this into some kind of diary, or even to say something nice about something, but every single time it’s turning me into a depressing life sceptic intent on belittling anything that slightly touches a nerve. But intently this struck upon some soul searching for a slight minute (*HOUR) and over the past few months I’ve grown slightly worried that deep inside, within the centre of my soul, lurks some kind of terrifying consuming blankness that I can’t get rid of.

Just to clear up, this isn’t anything like depression – which would show itself as an actively negative mindset, rather it’s an absence of any kind of definable mood whatsoever. It’s not like glancing at the glass of water and seeing it as half empty; more like glancing at the glass of water and seeing it as half full, but shrugging indifferently and staring at the wall instead of running about crying with joy and setting off party poppers. And to be fair, vacant indifference is the only sane reaction to a mere glass of water in the first place! It’s hard to create much enthusiasm or despair either way. Which clever idiot at the department of philosophical metaphors decided that in which way you perceived a glass of water should be the barometer of character building anyway! If I was going to find out if someone was a pessimist or an optimist, I’d fucking ask them all right!

I’ve started rambling again, but that was totally just an FYI moment right there.

Anyways, back to that creeping personal blankness, on one hand it’s more than likely a bonus, I take no pride in anything I do whatsoever and take very little interest I do outside in real life, so essentially I’m just a robot observing life go past like prizes going past on the generation game conveyor belt. And on the other hand, it’s a win-win situation – or for that matter would be, if I had any concept of ‘winning’ in the first place.

This, consequently, is why I’ve created this blog. To stir back up the creativity inside myself, because I feared otherwise I’d spiral slowly backwards down the long and dark stairwell of being a complete and utter moron, and as a bonus – I feel it’s starting to have an effect after even 3 posts. So there you go – something that’s spawned on the internet that I can actually thank, rather than shake my fist at any computer I use without an internet connection, render the computer useless and give up all hope of getting anything creative done.

I’m going to bed to conjure up a plan on creating a new operating system to take down windows. Night all!

Craving The Unhealthy

It’s all starting in one day – I’ve found my old word documents on my old hard drive, when I’d aspired to creating a blog. Quick copy and paste action later brings me to create this new found love of writing incoherent arguments to the semi-masses back. And we’ll start again with something current to me. And that is the problem of obesity in the United Kingdom and what leading effects that it’s had on me over the last year.
Ha ha ha, yeah yeah, – I’m on a diet. F*****g great. I can’t wait to stop eating things that are too good to be true, but hell – it’s the way to create the ‘perfect, healthier inner self’ at the end of the day isn’t it? I’ve done it before and it worked really well – but after slipping off the boat into a world of Greggs like the more eloquent fast food user, and the more economic sources of carbohydrates that our nation has grown to love.

12 month and 2 stone later, it’s become apparent to me that I’ve had to do something about it. To stop me becoming a shamed number amongst this fat and unhealthy place that I’ve made myself call home.

The whole calorie-counting business for example! It’s a system that’s flawed for being far too anal in every way. It encourages fat people to mince around with a headful of confusing numbers, perpetually totting up their score like a failing bookmaker carrying out an internal audit.

It's the same with alcohol and units. Literally no one understands the units system. And no doubt – never will.
Actually, why not just ban food? Step one: make owning a kitchen illegal. Step two: replace all supermarkets into some kind of roaming vehicle that dispenses our meals 3 times a day in the form of pellets or some kind of snack that keeps us on our toes. With this government and its ways of being caught up in things, I wouldn’t be surprised that rationing doesn’t come about because fat people are starting to scare number 10.

Anyway, Chicane's been helping me along on this post, this being one of my favourites, enjoy :)