9/11 - 10 years on.

This blog post, as you can guess from the title, centres around 9/11 - and it's impact to come on the world, it's inhabitants, and humanity as a result.

(I am aware that the 10th anniversary of the World Trade Centre disaster isn't until Sunday, but I felt compelled to blog about it today, seeing as my daily blogs are more based around my observations on that particular day).

As such, my need to centre the blog around the subject arose from a video I saw posted on someone's Facebook wall. The video in question is below: 

Watching the video today, out of curiosity, I shocked myself. I had an actual breakdown of tears by the end. I couldn't recall a time when I'd felt so emotionally empathic towards a stranger, providing a mere voice to a cartoon as he recalls his version of events surrounding a truly tragic day. In actuality, I couldn't recall a time over the last 10 years that I'd been so affected by the events of that day. In fact, I found myself brought back to the day that it happened (because I'm sure everyone remembers where they were when it happened), and was appalled at my completely juvenile response to the news.

Coming home from school at about 3:30pm (GMT) (more or less an hour after the disaster occurred in New York), I had set up a routine for after school: come in, sit down in front of the TV and watch cartoons. (the cartoon in question was Cardcaptors - don't laugh; It's my belief to this very day that every young boy dreams of becoming a Cardcaptor one day... :| Plus, I was like... 10). When I turned on the TV, I was met with the same image on every channel - and quite likely one that still haunts many peoples minds as it is burned into their memories - the smoke billowing from the sky high buildings as people struggled to come up with the explanation behind the attack. My 10-year old self, not knowing any better, was furious at the lack of cartoons on TV. I immediately was unconcerned for whatever supposedly "worldwide event" had just occurred, and was more preoccupied with whether they were going to repeat my favourite shows.

How short-sighted and misguided my 10-year old self was; and indeed, if some crazy time-paradox were to occur where I could go back and be my own father, I would have given myself an invaluable "education" on that day. 


My point of today's blog is not to rant at how terrible a youth was, for it's obvious to anyone how ignorant a 10-year old can/could be. I guess the point is to not let that same ignorance pass over to further generations. And indeed, come Sunday, I'm sure there will be plenty of parents our there who aren't willing to expose their children (regardless of their age - but more specifically those who were born post-9/11) to the horrors of what happened 10 years ago. But I think they would be wrong - and they would be doing their children an injustice. 


People should remember. People should be taught. The memories of those lost that day should be honoured, and not pushed aside because it might be easier to deal with. It is after all a modern-day disaster, and one that should never be forgotten. 

The perfect housewife - Not me.

My notice board at uni. I couldn't even fit it all in the picture, but you get the idea. 

This blog post centres around the ideas and ideals of the "Perfect Housewife," and my inability to relate to said ideals.

Blogging from my newly moved in uni room, looking around the bare walls and back-to-basic living conditions, I ask myself: "Am I content to sit here with substandard curtains, and mismatching furniture?" The answer, quite frankly, is yes.

I have no desire to improve my living conditions to any drastic length... I am, after all, a uni student. I'm meant to be living somewhat akin to the downtrodden heroes of classic literature - think Oliver (from Oliver) or erm... Well to be honest, I'm not a big reader, but I'm sure there are more suiting examples... -_-

It's not like I'm living in squalor... far from it. I just have no intentions to equip myself with soft furnishings and fancy throws... I have a notice board currently consisting of my NHS medical card, and a post-it found in a package from my dad. I have a feeling even those might not last long up there. I may stretch to a calender, for practical purposes... but aesthetically, they serve no function. Indeed, it has been the subject of a few conversations last year at my severe lack of "homely" touches to my room at halls. 

This isn't me, but I want to know how he gets his hair so shiny... :')

If I had been born a more proactive/artistic person, I'd say "Sure. My room could do with a art Deco desk lamp. Why not? Yes, I could turn that wall into a fancy-schmancy 'feature wall...' It would be a great 'focal point' for the eyes." (is it obvious that I spent most of my gap-year watching 60-Minute Makeover...? :| ) Unfortunately, I wasn't born that person. Instead, I was born not to care. And it is this lack of care that I pride myself on. For it leaves me more time to focus on the more important aspects on life (reading great works of literature, apparently isn't one of those...).


My lack of home-making ability stretches to my limited skills in the kitchen. Example: My housemate Laura made BREAD today... :O (breadmaking machine, but still required far more effort than walking a minute to the local corner shop for the pre-sliced variety). Was it delicious? Yes. Was it a very thoughtful gesture? Yes. Would I likely be following in her footsteps any time soon...? Highly unlikely. I survive on two meals a day - MAX. (Soup being a staple of my supremely unbalanced diet - COSTCO SOUP TRAYS FTW!!!).

This is how I imagine I'd be if ever I were to (God forbid) redecorate.
As you can clearly see, it can only end in disaster. 

What is my point exactly...? That what I lack in homemaking skills or desire for soft-furnishings, I make up for in satirical wit, and laziness. I only see myself hanging ONE thing on my wall this year: A piece of artwork given to me by my best friends mother, in an explicit way of sparing her daughters feelings by not throwing it away... I can imagine she was pretty offended anyway, given that it was more or less described as an eyesore, that didn't match the decor of the newly refurbished entrance hall... However, I find that one can NEVER have too many artworks of a guide dog eating what I can only guess as a variety of biscuit from a table. They're the modern day equivalent of that really famous bowl of fruit... or something. I think I forgot my original point, but I really like the picture - honest :) 

Judge for yourself...? Would you have this on your wall? No question. 

Work ethic I have none: Part II - Second Year edition.

This blog update is a bit of a cop-out, given that I'm more or less continuing from a previous post from May, entitled: "Work ethic. I have none." However, it seems relevant to me, given that today I have been on a somewhat lacklustre "job hunt," (the quotation marks are completely necessary).

As previously mentioned, my attitude to work is a rather... lazy one (which goes to show how lazy I was just then, for I would've preferred to find a better synonym for "lazy..."). 

However, I've realised one thing over the course of my employment history - I actually don't mind paid work. 

I realise that seems a fairly broad and, to be frank, non-conclusive statement (what kind of person doesn't mind paid work...?!) but hear me out. I could quite happily spend several hours at a time in an undisclosed supermarket chain, doing the ultimately mundane job of... 
SHELF STACKING :O, regardless of the social stigma that seems wrongly attached to peskily cheery customer service assistants... and indeed, the customers who shop there (mental retardation being the numero uno). However, when it comes to certain "work" of the uni variety, I find myself looking for practically ANY excuse to get out of it. "Killing bad gaiz on COD" has worked wonders thus far...

Curse you scart adaptor hell... 

What is my point exactly? Why can I find myself happily trundling into that aforementioned undisclosed nondescript soul-sucking supermarket chain... yet working towards a degree I'm supposed to have a (here come the quotation marks again...) "passion" for is comparable to spending an eternity in hell with a TV, Xbox, an unlimited number of Xbox games...

 and NO scart adaptor... :|

(OK, well I guess it wouldn't be quite so bad... I'm just a sucker for hyperbole.)

The answer, is quite simply: money. The root of all evil, and apparently can't buy you happiness. Yet I seem to prefer earning a regular wage than being the stereotypically poor student bum. However, my inferior powers of foresight mean I can't see the most obvious solution, which I have summed up in a rather wordy equation:
Working hard at uni = better job prospects = more money in the long run. 

A picture that actually combines and demonstrates both my points... however, it is 
copyrighted,  so I'll expect to hear from The Sun's lawyers soon enough... 
(This isn't actually me in the picture this time ... though he does seem mysteriously happy) 

I'll be more inclined to make this a reality, having written it down, but I digress... I - and I'm sure many students have repeated the following immortal words - have said many a time that I would "work harder this year," or "not leave things to the last minute..." But it means nothing unless it's put into practice. To be honest, I've never revised for an exam, and seem to get by on the absolute bare minimum or effort... How I ever got into uni I'll never know. But, things need to change... It's getting silly now... :')

So... here's to my coming year two at uni... my new (academic) years resolution: quite simply to actually be a 

student this time... 

Just... no one buy me Modern Warfare 3... D: 

This is how I envisage I'll be spending my THIRD year at uni...
If all goes to plan... :| 

"A NEW blog post you say?! WHAAAAA -" Autumn edition.

Yes, I have a new blog post. It's been a long time coming, as I'm sure many of my die-hard blog-fans were eagerly awaiting what wonders I have been up to during my Summer months off from uni (all two of you). 
In fact, it's been so long my laptop has forgotten what my default text style and size is for my blogger account... (and ergo, so did I). BUT YES! Here goes: a new chapter in my blogging "career".
To start with, a picture of a cat: 

Now that that's out of the way, I'll update you on how I spent the majority of my summer - (If you'll refer back to my earlier blog post entitled: "Summer - Not all sugar and rainbows..." you'll know I endeavoured to accomplish an exhaustive list of non-stop summer activities - three in total...).

So, appropriately, I realised three things:

This is how I imagine I'd look in my superhero costume - 
saving lesser beings from campers. 

1) I am awesome at COD: Not even in a way that most teenage boys can show off to uninterested girlfriends - not least of all because I'm neither a teenager, nor do I have a girlfriend - but in a way that means I fight with a degree of honour and righteousness (like a modern day superhero, trolling Xbox Live... THAT'S what I am...). My good friend Sebalicious can attest to my superiority on COD - I have no need to prove my point via a one-sided blogpost. 

This is how I felt when it happened...
I also tried growing my hair out for the summer. 

2) Pianos break. I don't know how it happened, either through overuse or intense use - but two of my keys are broken; namely the G# and A an octave above middle C. Weirdly enough, it started with the F# and G a tone below, but mysteriously "spread" to the aforementioned keys. Like some weird... piano breaking virus. On the subject, the neighbours decided to launch an official complaint regarding my "excessive" piano playing. I didn't realise 8:00 on  a Saturday morning would be a problem, but these neighbours are in a league of their own. The word on the street (literally; from our curtain-twitching busy-bodied neighbour Karen) is that they do drugs and all have ASBO's... so I'm guessing they were hungover and/or high on that particular Saturday morning (or planning their role in the London riots) Ahhh good ole' St. Albans... :') 

This is how I was. 100% accurate, even down
to the bloodshot eyes and blue-tinted skin tone. 

3) Blogging over summer is surprisingly difficult. Not because I didn't have a particularly uneventful one, but it quickly became tiresome and contrived. Moreover, it feels like the stuff that happens to me when I get back to uni is more blogworthy than telling strangers on the internet how I just owned several other strangers on the internet, via the medium of COD. There's only so many times you can brag about your incomparable K/D ratio, or that you've just covered that new Rihanna song on piano. 

BUT - with a new year at uni ahead of me, I'm more than confident that I'll devote myself more fully to blogging. After all - It is my duty to keep strangers on the internet informed of the happenings in my life. FOR THAT IS MY TRUE PURPOSE! XboxMan - AWAY!