Rose-tinted-glasses and the colours exploded into a rainbow of happiness

And so with rose tinted glasses I gaze upon the world, my thoughts a melange of unfaltering thundering drums that are pounding out my heartbeat as I slowly realise not all is well, and the unforgettable nostalgia tinged with more than a little optimism so rarely found in nostalgia; memories sparked through the smelling of a sweet scent.

It is with joy that I view the world as such, the foolishness of my childhood replaced with dreams that at least know might fail tumbling down in a spiral of something more beautiful than fire yet colder than the very pinpricks of rain when the heavens start to open.

So today was spent in a very blissful state. It was a joy that for a period of time I didn't feel like finding the best place to hide and just disappearing.

It started when I reconnected with a friend in a way that made me certain that we are destined to be this close forever. Not that we'd ever really drifted apart, it's just... something happened and as a result as much as we both denied it there was probably a little something still lingering. Suffice to say that this lingering has been quashed once and for all; meaning that an awesome friendship was strengthened (if that's even possible) and my mood was set on the right track for the day.

This then lead to a few hours of doing bugger all and not feel particularly great (except I wasn't feeling particularly bad either), the sun was shining and I was restless. This grew and grew until I finally realised that people were really busy with work (like I probably should be) and that I wasn't going to get any company (which was fair enough) until I took off. I took my car, some classic literature, poetry writing materials, food and great music and drove. I drove to Grassmere. It's a great place that holds many memories for me. We've been to the Butharlyp Howe You Hostel many times of the years and it was great to be back again in the sunshine.

I walked round the lake, stopping off half-way round for foods, picture taking and poetry writing. Unfortunately I didn't take anything to sit on and as a result got a slightly wet and muddy bottom but that didn't stop me, only shortened the amount of time I was sat down. Eventually I arrived back in the village and stopped off for a Mint Choc Chip ice-cream. It was delicious, proper farm-made, Lakeland ice-cream is always the nicest. It was lubbly jubbly.

Then I drove home blasting The River (Springsteen) and Wild Young Hearts (Noisettes) with my window down, feeling the cool breeze against my face, the warm sun creating a kaleidoscopic array of colours as it refracted off my rose-tinted glasses.

Now it is time for productivity, but not until I've watched Hannibal. It doesn't quite fit the mood and weather conditions (Hannibal + sun = no) but I watched Red Dragon and Silence of the Lambs the other night and so need to complete the quadrilogy by watching the next two. Then tomorrow it's time to sort out this shitty little mess I'm in and start being slightly more grown-up.

This worries me in that I hate being grown-up and stuff but there comes a time in everybody's life and I guess this is mine. I can, after all, be a little more childish next year when I'm back at uni. *insert overused emoticon here*

So for now I am happy, quietened by the inevitable fall of darkness and ready to face whatever the world throws at me; one problem at a time.

xx

Song of the day: The Noisettes - Never Forget You

Quote of the day: "I'll never forget you; they said we'd never make it; my sweet joy; always remember me"

So, here I am again, blogging my way through the anger that's been welling up inside me all evening. Gods it's been a while and I forgot how cathartic it was to pour my heart out onto some meaningless blog filled with ramblings that no-one really ever reads. No matter how poetic I make it sound it is still a lonely space of the internet reserved for those fortunate enough to find it.

*Beware abrupt topic change*

Don't you just hate siblings?

I mean siblings in general I've found to be nothing more than an extra person in a game of cricket in the garden, or an annoyance comparable to a little itch that's stuck right underneath your shoulder-blade, in a place that you can reach but not scratch.

The sibling I hate? My own.

I have a sister. She is annoying as hell. She's got to that age where she thinks she can wrap the whole goddamn world around her little finger. I don't fall for it. But having said that, there's not much I can do about it to be honest.

I take her places when my parents are too busy and I'm not. Something that I think any brother who's nice and kind like me would do.

It's a shame she's been abusing it. Not much mind you, but it's the little things. The fact that whilst I'm taking her friend home she has to come with us and then just pop into her house to to put some music on a memory-stick "quickly".

I wouldn't have minded had she discussed with me. I wouldn't have minded it quick meant 5 minutes. It did only mean ten minutes. But that's after I've already been treated like a free taxi by my cousin for whom I was "doing a favour".

Well you owe me Ben.

And this was all after 8:00p.m. too. Fucking annoying.

And this can only happen because I'm home.

Ok so yeah I'm home because I'm going skiing with the family tomorrow and I wouldn't say no to a free holiday but it's fucking annoying.

Am I allowed to be annoyed?

I mean I haven't gone into the full details but to be honest I'm made to feel sometimes like I have more than everybody else and that having an annoying sister isn't that big of a problem.

No-one in particular makes me feel this way, it's just a general kind of thing that I seem to feel when I bitch about things that are considered "mere annoyances".

Anyway time for some "alone time" seeing as I'm gonna be with family all week.

And then sleeps.

xx

And so comes the time for those words that have been brewing for a while;

FUCK OFF WITH THAT ARROGANTLY HUGE HEAD OF YOURS!

PEOPLE WOULD LIKE YOU IF YOU WERE'NT A BASTARD!

*Ahem*

Fucking hell.

Ok, so I'm gonna relay the situation to you.

1. My room is directly above somebody else's.

2. The floor is paper thin.

3. The guy below me is an arrogant twat.

Apparently I make too much noise. There has been the odd occasion where I've been told I've been making noise late at night. With that I can understand being pissed off.

Today though was a fucking piss-take. It wasn't too early (something around 10/11) on a Saturday morning. It's not like it's too early.

But yeah I started djing. And when I say djing I mean I did have my amp on but I didn't turn it up too loud.

Then follows this really shitty status along the lines of;

"Once again is woken up by shitty music disrupting the peace and quiet. It's not like I wanted a lie-in or to work when I got up"


This was posted by the afore mentioned arrogant and big-headed housemate.

It's so fucking stupid it's pissed me off.

And it's not just me either. He's been given a nickname that basically just adds "creepy" in front of his name. And to be honest although I don't see why he's creepy, I do see why people don't really like him.

Last year we were good friends. He was my best friend by default. We'd met on a summer course and gone to the same uni the course was at. I didn't like my housemates. It was a simple as that.

Then the drinking started. He's been attached with the label of "alcoholic" for a good reason. I mean we all go out and get so blind drunk we cannot stand and throw up all over the place occasionally (ok so I've never done it but I'm sure it'll happen one day) but to do it four times!?!? I mean it's not like he even takes responsibility for it.

The first time it happened he went to hospital and next day he arrived back and we asked him how he was and he remarked (rather smugly) that he didn't even have a hangover. Not "I'm sorry for causing you so much upset."

This incident sparked off this blog post. It was awful.

But anyway. I'm running out of battery on my laptop.

So yeah, turns out he's big-headed and everything seems to be about him and how he's right or how he's done something worse than you have or whateverthefuckitis.


So yeah. He's a dickhead.

He needs to fuck off and learn to be nice and kind.

That is all.

xx

I'll be your distraction...

Nothing in this world worth having comes easy. That's what we need to remember. And right now it's spurring me on more than anything. It's a phrase that seemed to knock me to six with it's truth. It's something so true and pure that it really made me prick my ears up and listen. If something is worth a damn then it's not going to be easy. But it makes things all the more worth it. It's not about the destination, it's about the journey.

Right now I'm moving forward in my life in many different ways. I'm closer and closer each day to realising my dream of being a musician. Every day I'm getting closer and closer to doing what I want and enjoying life to the full. It's exciting and I cannot wait. I'm taking every second and shaking it of all its time just so I can do all the things that I want. It's fantastic. It's also insane. But it's great.

Life is making me realise that I cannot take the easy road and that I have to plunge full-heartedly into my projects with vigour and that I have to work and work at what I'm doing to get where I want to be.

This is just a ramble. And not a good ramble either. Oh well. It needed to happen. It's cathartic. I feel cleansed rambling like this. Don't ask me why or how because I couldn't say.

My heart is sighing again.

Am I in love? It is hard to say. I love many people but cannot put my finger on the answer to the afore mentioned question. I think I'm in love and would very much like to love and be loved but it is hard to pin-point the exact emotion. But then again it always is with me. Damn stupid learning disability. Oh well. Guess it's the price I pay for being gifted in other areas of my life. Because I am. No doubt about it.

That is all for now. I am done.

xx


Song of the day: Howie Day - Collide

Quote of the day: "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." - Anaïs Nin

The flowering of life

The world is opening up to me. It’s opening its wide, bleary eyes and staring at me right in the face, smiling that cheeky grin I never knew existed. I am at the pivotal point, the fulcrum of my life, and it can carry on going one way or I can move forwards and tip the scales. And tip them I will.

At the time of writing I’m say in Cafe Nero watching the world go by. It’s entertaining; it helps me forget that I’m writing boring articles of meaningless drivel that somehow are passed off as good. There is some cute cosmopolitan woman in front of me (and by in front I mean a few tables in front). She hasn’t seemed to notice me yet and in all probability doesn’t know that I’m blogging about her. But that’s the beauty of life. It’s unknown and secretive and as much as I do know tend to keep secret it is very easy to keep little things hidden, to keep certain little thoughts in your mind, letting them stay as thoughts forever.

There is an old couple to the north-east of me; an old man with slowly disappearing white hair and a woman with equally white hair but thick and full. I cannot hear their conversation and I’m going to assume they are married but for all intents and purposes they were having a small argument before, the way old people do with their disapproving looks at each other and their finger pointing. It was probably nothing really because even though I do not know them and even though I cannot hear their conversation I know they must love each other very much. I know that they must have gazed at each other across a dance-floor for hours before tentatively taking up the courage to make their first moves, cautious and refined. I know that the man must have taken it upon himself to ask the woman for a dance and I know that she must have blushed a shade of red that seems impossible now, their skin a white shade of pale. I know that he must have taken her hand and that they must have waltzed slowly across the floor, their heartbeats slowly intertwining just like their hands, their senses starting to notice the smallest of things; the scent of her perfume, the whorls and lines in his hands, the way she held herself, upright and poised like a professional dancer.

This is the beauty of people watching. You can learn so much from so little. It is one of the reasons I come to work in Cafe Nero. Not only because the unwelcome distraction of the internet (more specifically Facebook) is banished but because I can sit and the world can pass me by and I can know that people are doing things with their lives
That hope and love and glory still exist.
That people still have conversations.
That people can still be kind.

It’s like a patchwork quilt of different emotions, all sewed together as one, all different colours, all with different patterns, all meaning different things.

A young father has just sat down to the south-east of me. It is cute. He is here with a child who I will assume is his daughter and it has filled me with a sense of the beauty of life. It also has sparked the maternal instincts that I have always had but have been lacking recently. At first I thought that he didn’t look like he wanted to be here but as he sat down with his drink and placed his child in the high-chair it struck me that he has an obligation to fill,, whether he likes it or not and after a while of settling down into my observations of him I have come to notice that as much as it is hard work he gets a sense of enjoyment from being a father. I can sense that he has had a few sleepless nights recently but that he does not mind and that he is relatively happy with the current situation as it stands. He reminds me of the man with the burnt hands in Jon McGregor’s novel If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things. The man with the burnt hands is a single father who damaged his hands beyond repair trying to save his wife from a burning building. He is getting older and cannot be the father he truly wants to be due to his health. I do not get the sense that this father behind me is an only father but I do get the sense that he is trying to be everything he can be for his child and that he would make an excellent single parent.

His child is young and easily distractable, sitting in a wooden chair, attempting to feed herself crisps and drink juice through a straw. Life is awaiting her to explore it and the actions of others seem more interesting than the food being waved in front of her face. The child-like expressions of the people who have caught a glimpse of this small child watching them is testament to the fact that I think she will grow up to be a good child, that and the fact that her father is trying to instil upon her correct manners, like eating with your mouth closed a and other such things.

The old woman went off to do something or other in town and has returned with a look of joy on her face, a young girl at her heels, possible a relative or friend, someone who whilst young and by no-means the epitome of a “good girl” (her jeans and boots giving her a thoroughly modern image) seems to be someone makes this couple smile, someone who can interact with the older generations despite their youth and the older generations seeming dislike of the youth.

My battery on my laptop is going to run out soon and so I must finish off for now and sign off. I am going to purchase sparkling water and a chocolate brownie and then do some well deserved reading.

xx