Arlequino's Musings

Anniversary

2006-07-07T04:53:00.000-07:00

About this time last year, at work polishing glasses, I remember being told that the London tube 'crashes' weren't due to the power surge that had initially been reported, but were due to a number of bombs being planted upon the London transport system.

Obviously, I have no right to talk about the horror of it all, or the fear of it. The distress of that day was as alien to me as if it had occurred somewhere halfway across the world. But an attack on your own country makes you think again. It certainly did with me. Mostly, the thing I remember was the mobile phone networks being completely blocked. Wanted to get in contact with Annie, just to make sure she hadn't been anywhere near central on that day. When, eventually, I managed to get through, hearing that she was in Twickenham and hadn't had anything to do with it was more of a relief than anyone had right to feel on a day like that.

Since being at university, I've used the tubes quite a number of times. Never once has it crossed my mind to be scared, suspicious, concerned or mindful. The human psyche seems to just adjust itself to normality. The normality we, as a country, know now is a different one to the normality we knew 366 days ago. But the only true victory that can be drawn from such a thing is in continuing with life.

July 7th 2005 doesn't seem long ago at all. How far will things have come by July 7th 2007?

later,
Chris...

Never Fade Away

2006-07-06T12:11:00.000-07:00

I suppose it's been quite a while, hasn't it? But I needed some time away - not really from blogging as such, but from discussing me. Stuff happened. Stuff that I really wasn't overly comfortable talking about to the closest of friends in the real world. Certainly not stuff that I would've been happy committing to the tangled web of blogging. I'd've written about other stuff except, for the most part, these things were the only things that were occupying my thoughts enough for me to write about. So I decided that, on balance, it was better that I just took a break.

Now, however, things are probably looking a bit better. Certainly I have definite plans of where I'm going, at least in the short term. Back to work, in order to help with some training and other such things, on Monday. Latitude festival for the Friday. Egham on August 1. Edinburgh for a couple of days in the middle of that week. It might not be much of a series of goals or such things, but it's a way to begin. And, altogether, when those things are done, it won't be long at all until the whole business of university and such things begins again. Courses, set texts, exams, assignments, seminars, lectures, the union, the bars - things that, less than a full year ago, seemed so new, exciting and alien have taken on the aspect of comfortably familiar routines. Sometimes you need something new to shake you from a reverie. Just occassionally, you need something indefatigably familar and draped in known routines. Even if these things don't, themselves, prove to be the key to a restoration of some formality, the process of getting to them may form part of the catharsis I require.

Maybe, just maybe, blogging forms a part of that too.

later,
Chris...

Sabbatical

2006-06-05T06:21:00.000-07:00

No blogging for a while now. Some drama, which I won't write about at least until I've got it all sorted in my head, and possibly not even then.

Until next time,
Chris...

One Hot Minute

2006-05-26T06:06:00.000-07:00

A great idea, poached from a friend of a friend.

One year. Each day, one striking moment. Blog about it, and nothing else.

The Moment

later,
Chris...

Are you ready for the shit to hit...

2006-05-25T10:57:00.000-07:00

Fuck...

The past few days have been...
hard.
Yeah, hard.

Boredom's one of those words we bandy around far too easily. Nothing to do for half an hour? You think you're bored? Fuck you.

Normally I hate that shit where someone breaks down and wants to know what they've done, why things are so hard, why things won't go well for them. It's always so sanctimonious. I tend to hit the 'shut up, you stupid, whinging twat' stage before. But now, I'm feeling like I'm on the run up to just that stage. I feel so fucking messed up right now.

My days are spent in this godawful routine of sleeping, dreaming more than I want, waking, walking, reading and sleeping again. I haven't spoken to someone that isn't in my family - voice to voice - for about a week. It's been over a month since I've seen anyone that isn't related. My world has constricted. Apart from the half hour or so I can manage to walk for before becoming exhausted, I live in four rooms. I spend hours alone, and it's become oh-so-ordinary not to hear from anyone. I don't feel so much like a hermit as I do a complete no-hoper. And, because this tiredness won't fade, won't disappear, I don't see any end to it.

I know that, in theory, I'm living a charmed existence right now. No worries, no outlays, food and drink whenever I want it, the time and leisure to do exactly as I please, as far as my body allows. And yet, it feels like I'm on a custodial sentence. I feel imprisoned and excluded. I feel like I'm missing out on so much. I feel like the world's become something that happens to other people, and I'm the casual observer. It's difficult to feel like you belong under those circumstances.

I know I shouldn't complain. Don't want to sound like a sanctimonious fucker, and I definitely don't want to allow myself to create a well of pity for myself to wallow in. Self pity, in spite of everything I write and record, is not my instinct. Thinking of myself tends to be a last resort, the thing I revert to only when I can't find someone else to think of.

In truth, I'm not really used to

This.

And this is difficult.

later,
Chris...

Distracting Nonsense

2006-05-21T07:16:00.000-07:00

Your Autobiography

Part 1: The Birth of You

Were you a planned baby?
Erm...to a degree, I think. Never actually asked - something about the idea of conversing upon my origins repulses me.

Were you the first?
The original(and best...?)

Who was present at your birth?
Again, I have no idea. Nor any particular desire to do so.

Were your parents married when you were born?
Yep; I'm no bastard!

What is your date of birth?
01/01/86. Which some people seem to think is more interesting than it really is.

Part 2: The Family

How would you describe your family?
Old fashioned meets contemporary. Almost a contradiction, but in the best possible sense.

Are your parents married? Divorced? Seperated?
Still very much married.

Siblings or an only child?
A pair of younger sisters who, despite my wanting to murder them half of the time, are essentially quite decent.

If you have siblings are you oldest, middle, or youngest?
Being the first born, I'm also the eldest. Quelle surprise.

What are your siblings names and ages?
Rachel & Becky. And they may, or may not be 18 and 15. I tend to lose track.

Which parent do you get along with best?
Ah, now they're both cool by me.

What do you fight about?
Anything that isn't worth the hassle.

Do you have step parents?
Nope. Some of these questions are very similar; had you noticed?

Part 3: The Friends

Do you have more than one best friend?
Yeah, absolutely.

What do you like to do when you are together?
Depends on which of them it is. Drink, get high, walk, chill, chat, bitch, music, cinema...any combination of the above.

Do you share the same interests?
I don't think there's anyone who shares my interests properly!

Which friend can you tell anything to?
One or two of them...nobody I'm willing to disclose though; that's opening myself to vulnerabilities!

Part 4: Your Personality

How high/low is your self esteem?
Chronically low. Even realistically so, perhaps.

Do you get depressed about things easily?
Yeah, far too easily as it happens.

Are you happy?
Currently, lonely but surprisingly happy.

Do you live life to the fullest?
At times, I have done.

Part 5: Appearance

Are you comfortable with the way you look?
Some days yes, some days no.

Do you have any piercings besides your ears?
None at all. Piercings just don't appeal.

Describe your hair.
My hair and I are in a constant and never ending battle. Today, it's winning.

Part 6: The Past

Were you a strange child?
I'd like to think I still am.

What did you used to love that you no longer do?
Christ, erm...shutting myself off and just letting my imagination run things for me.

Do you have the same friends?
Not from when I was really young. Mostly from about 14 onwards they've remained stable.

Part 7: The Future

What is your ambition?
To just be.

Are you scared of growing old?
Yeah. More particularly recently.

Do you want to get married?
Very much so, actually. Strange for someone with committment difficulties!

Part 8: The Outdoors

Do you prefer indoors or outdoors?
Each in their own particular time.

What is your favorite season?
Winter. Particularly deep winter.

Weather?
Thunder storms and thick fog.

Do you like walking in the rain?
Definitely. It's liberating.

Part 9: Food

Are you a vegetarian?
No, no, no! I like my red meat far too much.

What food makes you want to gag?
Olives. And I wish they didn't.

What is your favorite dessert?
Perhaps cheese boards with a glass of port. Or creme brulee. Mmmm.

What is your favorite restaurant?
From my horribly biased point of view, I do like The Crown in Southwold. We're fucking good!

Are you a fussy eater?
I fear so. Which is why I prefer to cook for myself!

Part 10: Relationships and Love

Are you single or taken?
Predictably enough, very much single.

If taken who is the lucky guy/gal?
If taken, I'm not sure they'd be so much 'the lucky gal'.

Do you think love is the best feeling in the world?
Fuck knows...how can there be one 'best feeling in the world'? And how could I know, when I'll never, ever understand every feeling imaginable. What a stupid question.

Do you believe in love at first sight?
Oh yes. Very much so. The concession to the romantic in me, I fear.

later,
Chris...

So I Reached Out To Kanye...

2006-05-20T09:42:00.000-07:00

...and brought you all my dream.
Nah, don't worry...I haven't gone all hip-hop on yo' ass.

Just dreams and stuff. "Not the clutching at straws, this is where I wanna be (gotta be), here's what I'd do if..." sort of dream. The real thing, the images and places and ideas that open up to you in the middle of the night. Ethereal and unreal, and oh-so-genuine. The half thoughts that filter down from your subconscious to become, for mere seconds, your entire reality. And recently, my dreams have been plagued with old places. Or, perhaps, olde places. Villages and towns that just don't belong. And characters that don't either. In fact, coming to think of it, it's the characters involved that brought me to thinking about these dreams.

Who are those people, those fully-formed and utterly real characters that populate my sleep? And the places that seem so complete, so flawless and so essentially rotten. Consciously, I don't think it's within my capabilities to create such places, such people. At least not without an amazing amount of effort, and even then, how could it be so real? How could I describe something like the feelings of these places to myself? And how could I take the role of participant or helpless observer so completely? But take away the consciousness and, suddenly, mental creations are not only possible - they're ordinary, run of the mill, and completely effortless.

This in mind, is it any wonder that the best stuff I've ever imagined, ever thought I could write, ever known I could create have come just before falling into sleep? And is it any wonder that, the second I wake up, or even become conscious of the thoughts, they disappear back into the ether? If only I could consciously pillage all those images I have when logical thought is beyond me, I'm sure I could be more myself.

Such is the paradox; the only time I'm truly myself is when I have no control over it.

What does that say?

later,
Chris...

Losing Track

2006-05-16T02:36:00.000-07:00

Whatever follows here has no plan, no form and no structure. It's just how it comes.

Yesterday, it was either three or four weeks since I last saw someone that wasn't either a member of my family, or the doctor.

Ever since then I've felt the boundaries of my world contracting. Yesterday, having a tired day, I spent my fourteen waking hours in four rooms. I spent at least six of those hours in bed, simply because I didn't have the energy to do anything else. I fear I've created something of a prison for myself.

It's like this, you see. I'm tired. I get very tired very quickly right now. I know it's only the after-effects, and they can take a good few weeks to clear, but it's so constricting. I can't drive anywhere because I can't trust my energy levels to keep up enough to let me drive back. I can't walk far because of the ache that develops in my legs and the lethargy that starts to overtake me. It's got to the stage where seeing people acting with energy tires me out. And so, slowly but undeniably, this thing's suffocating me. I lost half a stone in the week I could barely eat because of the swelling in my throat. Now I'm just a shadow.

Being trapped here forces your mind to escape, though, and that's perhaps the only beneficial thing about this. I'm thinking more, reading more and allowing my imagination to engage itself more than I have in months. I'm letting music, and words, and pictures filter in again. The paradox here is that while I'm physically living in smaller confines than I ever have done, my mind is experiencing more freedom than it has in a long time.

I'm sure there's a deep irony in the fact that the last time I was thinking this expansively was the last time I had proper physical freedom. It was when I was travelling, and entirely in charge of my own paths.

I know this is a mess, but it's how it all came out.

Daily Routines

2006-05-07T05:45:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it's there again. That sticky, clammy feeling; sheets soaked through with it, makes me shiver. Hand up to face and it's there too. Cold fever sweat. Illness seeping out while I'm asleep, drenching the sheets and pillows. Takes the heat out of the situation too. It'd be nice to snuggle up in the covers now. If they weren't covered in that same cloying essence of illness.

Finally, eyes open. Look down, check the hands and feet. Still covered in that fucking rash. It's stopped being blotchy and rash-like now. Now it looks like bruising, or burst veins. And the skin's become unresponsive and dull. Maybe it vaguely hurts, behind the general feelings of unwell that are there all the time anyway. Most of all, it feels old. It looks old. Looking down - shit - I feel like an old person. Ten seconds away from wrinkles, pensions and falling down without being able to get up again. The feeling passes but the rash keeps the thought there, burrowing away. Sooner or later, this isn't going to be a low point. This is going to be oh-so-normal. I hope it's later.

All this time, I've tried to focus on anything but my throat. Ignoring the build up of saliva in the mouth is one thing, but trying to forget the way that whatever the hell it is that is dropping onto your tonsils is insidiously building up behind it all is a completely different matter.

Spit or swallow? If it's still up, they're both gonna hurt. Just different hurts is all. This morning, I chose to swallow. Wrong fucking decision. The mix of saliva, phlegm and whatever the hell else it is - pus? - stings like nothing else. There are razor blades down there, I'm sure of it. Rusty ones too. Coated in powdered glass, no doubt. Water doesn't seem like such a great idea now, and it's a long way downstairs to get paracetamol. Still hours 'til I can take the steroids, and anyway, they won't kick in for at least 6 hours after you've had them. This one I'm gonna have to ride out. So swallow again; get used to it. Get through it, and use that mouthwash which tastes like unrefined absinthe if I have to. But for fuck's sake, please get through the pain of this one. Please sleep again.

So settle down in those fever-filled quilts. There are got hours to spend in them yet, and nobody's up and about at 4:00 anyway. Besides, come 8:00, it's all the medication, and it'll all feel just a little bit better from then on.

It's not much of a routine, but it's something. It's the routine of my glandular fever.

later,
Chris...

Cutt Off

2006-05-01T06:29:00.000-07:00

This sonofabitch, motherfucking illness that's had me struck down since I finshed work ten days ago has managed to keep me away from university. I should've been back in accommodation yesterday - instead, I'm still not sure when I'll be able to go back in. I don't even have the energy to get through a day as things stand. I need a lot more than that for when I finally do go back.

And, being here, stuck, bored and with nothing to entertain me but my thoughts, old weaknesses begin to prey a bit again. Right now, it's like all the old insecurities, everything that I've made so many efforts to try and get rid of, everything I've put all my energy into forgetting about and letting go, has just come back and taken root again. And I don't know how to deal with it this time. I don't think I can do that cynical thing again, where I act like I just don't care. 'cos I really do.

I really fucking do.

later,
Chris...

Hoping Against Hope

2006-04-14T09:04:00.000-07:00

Over the past few days, the romantic in me seems to have taken root again. Whether it's getting home again, and returning to old habits, or the memories of a year ago - it's been a year since I met her in Rome while the holidays have been here -, or the music I've been listening to that I haven't heard in a long while, or just that I've recovered something, I'm not sure. But, sure enough, a lot of that cynical bullshit I felt over the past six months or so has just vanished. I'm feeling like a dreamer again.

It feels good.

The flipside is that it makes me feel like I need to reinvigorate myself somehow. Like dropping out. And travelling again...just to lose the plan, lose the map, and lose my way. Just to go, and feel that freedom again. Because that's what it was, when I look back on it. It was being free; there's no feeling quite like it. Or, maybe, I just need to change the way I've been dealing with things at uni. Quit the hang-ups, and the worries and the endless, pointless procrastination. Perhaps I just need to apply myself properly.

Or apply myself to whatever my dreams tell me to anyway.

later,
Chris...

I Will Show You Fear In A Handful Of Dust

2006-03-28T07:17:00.000-08:00

Essay writing's a funny thing. Particularly when it's poetry analysis.

You can stare at a poem for hours on end, and get nothing. You can write some meaningless, needless and rather unecessary sentences, and you'll have a passage which has got you nowhere. You can walk away from it, come back, be as clueless as ever. You can be about to give up and - BANG. There. An idea, just like that, and out of nowhere.

It's probably not something you've even thought about thinking of. It's probably nothing like where you were going to go. You probably don't know where the hell that little flash came from. But inspiration hit and, suddenly, there's something there. And shit, don't it feel good? Doesn't it just give you that little bit of hope that (maybe, just maybe) there's something more powerful to your thoughts than you'd realised?

And isn't it just the key? Suddenly, your writing's opened up. The door's unlocked, and you can see a thousand little things that slipped by you first time.

Just wait for the inspiration. There's your key.

later,
Chris...

I Don't Wanna Be...

2006-03-21T04:52:00.000-08:00

...Anything Other Than What I've Been Tryin To Be Lately.

And yesterday, I worked out exactly what that was.

Walking into an English lecture, I saw a girl standing alone in the corner. She looked strikingly familiar, but there was no way I could put my finger on why. She almost reminded me of Sarah, who I met in Rome. But that would've been both impossible, and ridiculous. Nevertheless, I knew hew. Knew that I did.

As we walked in and sat down, Fran leant to me and told me it's the girl we met queueing up for registration in the first week, and did I remember? Shit - I remembered alright. Remembered so much. Almost everything, name excepted. She was wearing a blue top, and she was living in Founders. Talked about the usual things you do when you meet someone for the first time. And then, as we finished, said we'd see one another around soon, probably. Yesterday was the first time I'd seen her since.

Alone, not surrounded by chatting friends, quiet and apparently studious, and I was sitting about three foot from her. I just wanted to lean over, and say hi. Ask how things were going. See how she was enjoying the uni. See if she remembered that first acquaintance as well as I did. Because, being so early in term, she was one of the first people I actually met from the course.

I just wanted to be able to be nice, to be friendly, and to not be so fucking nervous about speaking to people that I don't really know. I just wish I had that freeness of speech that would've allowed be to smile and chat.

I envy people that have that ability. It's something I wish I had. It's the sort of person I wish I was.

It's all that I've wanted to be lately.

later,
Chris...

No Utopia

2006-03-16T08:56:00.000-08:00

I feel that if I don't write this down in as many places as I can find, then I won't be able to get it out of my head.

I've got so many good friends here. I'm just not sure that any of them know me. I'm not sure if this is the reason that I sit here, and put things down in writing so frequently. I'm not sure if it's the reason that I feel I can only work out what I'm feeling by how I write about it. I'm not sure if it's part of the reason that I couldn't really give a fuck if I failed this whole degree crap anyway. And, most of all, I'm not sure if it's because I'm incapable of telling people anything anymore. I'm not sure if I just don't know how to open up. I'm not sure if I know how to trust people enough to be vulnerable.

I don't think I'm sure of anything.

I had such high hopes about this place. I don't suppose it's disappointed; I just think that I've let it disappoint me. If I could go back to September, I would. I'd make so much more of an effort. I'd get out and find random people, and do everything I could, and join everything I wanted. I'd audition for everything, I'd throw myself into anything, I'd do all the random, stupid, inane and stupid things I could. I'd do all the sensible things I felt I need to. And I'd find as many people as I humanly could, and then I'd work out just where I fit into the whole thing. It's a lot harder to do it now. The groups have been established, and when you find yourself falling out the side, is there really a great deal you can do about it? I'm making the effort now though. I know I could've done better at first, but I'm doing my best now. It isn't impossible to change things. It just can't be.

I don't like the way everything I say has to being with 'I'. With me.

The view from my window shows Athlone surrounding my halls. I can't see past it on any side. It's a bit like a wall around my only little sanctuary. Seems quite fitting that way.

On this day, last year, I was spending my first day in Athens. It was hot and beautiful. It was relaxed. It was everything I'd like to escape to now for a few days. If there's one little piece of solace I can find, it's that on this day last year, we'd just left the bad parts of the trip. It had started off great and then, temporarily, became deeply unpleasant. Romania. From this day onwards, it just got better and better. That's hopeful.

later,
Chris...

Derelict Beauty

2006-03-09T07:54:00.000-08:00

It's been a pretty grim day, weather-wise.

Cloudy and grey, without so much as a glimpse of the sun.

But just now, for the first time in about two hours, the rain's abated somewhat. And blue sky and sunlight have just crept over the husk of Athlone directly outside my window. So now, the old building's practically glowing beneath the grey sky, as the rain continues to fall lightly on the grassland outside of it.

It's pretty much what I'd term urban beauty.

later,
Chris...

Now, Not Tomorrow, Yesterday

2006-03-08T15:54:00.000-08:00

I've never really been short of things to say, I guess. Sometimes a bit short on expressive ability, and sometimes a bit confused about how to express everything I need to get out, but never without anything to say. And, right now, I think that's more the case than ever. There are a hundred, thousand, million things to say. And they're all there, floating around, dragging my attention away until I'm not really sure what's important, or what's confused, or what's inane rubbish.

So a new tactic is required. And it's this: I'll just take a thought; something that's there, and may or may not need to be said, and I'll write about it. It's inspired by that 'oneword.com' thing, but without quite the same brick-wall-randomness. And the time limit.

Right now, I'm going to write about the RAG Panto.

I don't really remember how much I've written about it on here before. In fact, I can't recall writing anything about it at all. But it's been, probably, my main commitment - drinking and stoning honourably excluded - for this past seven weeks. We did The Wizard of Oz, but altered to make it very uni-centric. I had a couple of bit-parts, but had the greatest time. Very little pressure, not a huge deal to learn, and a hugely enjoyable performance. There were some very cool people taking part, too, which always helps things along.

Right at the beginning, as others were doing so, it occurred to me to drop out and leave it. The rehearsal schedule seemed prohibitive. At first, the whole thing seemed formless, uninteresting and likely to go down like an Essex whore. And then, something just clicked. I didn't want to drop out. I didn't really give a shit if the others around me did, because I wasn't in the panto for them. I wasn't doing it for anybody but myself. The charity, RAG thing's brilliant; but that's not actually what I was in it for. I just wanted to have a good time. I just wanted to perform again. I'd put off doing any of that for far too long. I'd procrastinated horribly, and now I wasn't going to. Sure, I missed the singing rehearsals, but overall my committment was good. I didn't let them down, and the experience didn't let me down either.

We performed it this weekend. The first performance was good, but sterile. The second was excellent. It's been so long since I've acted, that I'd forgotten how good it feels to hold an audience in your hand. You know what your best lines are, you know how to deliver them, and you know how to manipulate that crowd. You can savour the moment when necessary, and you can throw it away when it's a supporting bit. I'd forgotten how great the feeling is when you leave stage having had the audience laughing uncontrollably. I'd forgotten the sort of camaraderie that putting something on stage breeds.

Perhaps it was exactly what I needed. I'm so gutted it's over; I'm so desperate to do something like it again. So, on Friday, there are auditions for 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival this summer. It'd be foolish to pass up the opportunity. Even if I don't get it, there'll be other stuff around. But my best experiences, from a drama point of view, have come with Shakespeare. I'd be stupid not to try.

I'm doing my best not to do the stupid thing anymore.

later,
Chris...

2006-03-08T14:45:00.000-08:00

Why, oh why can I not find my bottle opener?

This is most irritating.

Thought for Food?

2006-03-08T08:44:00.000-08:00

If there's one thing that's bizarrely fun about university, it's the fact that it forces you to experiment with food. Before I came here who'd've thought, for instance, that pesto could become a near staple part of my diet? Strange, but true, I tell's ya.

Anyway, tonight, I've decided to be particularly inventive. Blending up some mince - or at least, chopping it as finely as I'm able to with a serrated-edge blade - mixing it with diced onion and garlic, shaping and holding it with whisked egg and topping it with piquant peppers, I've made, I think, some home-made burgers. I've never even tried doing something like that!

The real test, of course, will be if they hold together on the grill at whatever time I decide I'm hungry. I'm severely hoping they will, 'cos they look fucking fantastic.

---------------------------------------------

If I haven't been posting much here recently, it's because I javen't really been inspired to. Life continues, much as it has these past few months. At the moment, for some unknown reason, I'm missing Norwich. Not home particularly, but I really want to be able to drive into Norwich, go to the cinema, and do some shopping on what I consider my home territory. It's a strange thing to be looking forward to!

later,
Chris...

Fuck, Fuck, FUCK

2006-03-03T18:58:00.000-08:00

Oh shit.

It all went so badly wrong tonight. So badly.

later,
Chris...

Such a Lonely Day, And It's Mine

2006-03-02T15:49:00.000-08:00

The last few days have felt hard. Really fucking difficult.

Essay writing bollocks aside, there's been something about this week that I've found impossibly hard to handle. It's like things have just piled up, and up, and up, and that there's been no respite at all. It's like things have conspired to make life hard. And it's like whenever I try to put it down in writing, it reads like so much bullshit.

It all got significantly sadder last night, when I got a call from one of my best friends. Things have always been a little tough between us, because of how we met - through another friend, her girlfriend and then ex - and now I'm a constant reminder of that. It's not anything about either one of us, but us talking ends up hurting her. And I don't want to be responsible for that. But I don't want to lose her. I don't want to lose her so, so much.

Moreover, thinking about how close I am to her, and to other friends I've had, makes me realise how few people there are here with whom I've really and truly connected. There are friends who, in any normal situation, I probably wouldn't have become friends with. Sometimes, they're just not me. And I wish that I could have the friends from high-school here. Because we linked and complimented one another oh-so-fucking-well.

But hey - we make the best of what we're given. And there are some fucking cool people here, and some really, really decent ones as well. That's what I'll cling to.

However fucked it may appear.

later,
Chris...

Yeah!

2006-02-26T10:52:00.000-08:00

1991 words.

All of them shite.

Essay done.

Fuck Yeah!

Dream Junk

2006-02-25T16:29:00.000-08:00

Before I go into this, I'd like to point out that I hold no real stock by the notion of 'dream-readings', horoscopes, fortune telling, or any such stuff. But I'm bored, and my friend has a dream dictionary, so she analysed one of my dreams for me.

To summarise: the dream involved running away through a forest by a beach with someone that I can't identify. Not sure if we were running for fun, or hiding, or running away, or chasing, or anything. Also a friend txt me to tell me she'd had a fight with another friend of mine. Those are the tiny snippets I can remember. Here's the analysis:

Standing on the beach=you will likely be in need of financial support;

Forest hiding=some difficulty you are currently experiencing will have an eventual benefit;

[Running away (not sure about this one)=involved in a situation that you'd like to escape...you need to talk it over with a friend before the resentment has serious repercussions];

Friends fighting/in dispute=warning againt waste of time and money in idle pleasure.

Well - that was fun.

later,
Chris...

Something Beautiful

2006-02-25T10:29:00.000-08:00

Last night at the union wasn't one of the better ones. In spite of a decent crowd, passable music and an exceptional amount of alcohol, there was something a little bit 'off' about the whole thing. People disappearing home early, other people in generally bad moods, other people with their minds on other things, other people just not there. At times it felt more like a diplomatic exercise than a night of drinking, debauchery and craziness.

But, as seems to happen occassionally and when you need it the most, one thing happened that made things appear just a little bit better. Something as simple as being recognised and greeted by someone that you wouldn't expect to recognise you at all. Just a smile, a hug, a 'hi, how're you? How's your night?', a comment on the hair, a 'see you tomorrow'. It doesn't matter that you're both drunk, and ordinarily might just mumble a quiet 'hello' if you were to see one another. Just that little bit of acknowledgement, and things can seem pretty good again.

People are funny things - they can break your heart, but they can make your day too. It's nice to know that there's something that can do all that for you.

later,
Chris...

Break-a-holic

2006-02-24T06:34:00.000-08:00

Like workaholic, but without the working bit.

See?

Up until this year, I'd never really experienced the need for scheduling work breaks for myself. In fact, I'm almost pining for the times I could just sit down and crack out a 2000 word essay in one day. No breaks, no uncertainties, no distractions. Music on, head down, essay done. Easy.

These days, it's a case of writing a hundred words, stopping, browsing the internet, finding something to eat, chatting to some people, sitting down again and...repeating the whole process again. Thus, a nice easy 1500 word essay eats up the best part of a day and a half. A fairly difficult 2000 worder, on a subject I'm really rather unfamilar with is something of a marathon. And I'm no marathon runner. I've decided a good deal of all this struggle to apply myself comes from having too much time off, and not enough to do with it. So, when something I have to do does come along, I'm not used to getting stuck into it. So I don't. To that end - and to confront money before it really becomes an issue - I've decided to apply for a bar job on campus. Hopefully this will begin to engage my stagnating brain, and allow me to get on with things properly. It'll be hard work, but that's fine.

I'm not going to complain. I've got all day to do this thing at my own leisurely pace, then windows between rehearsals all weekend with which to finish it off. And I get to go out tonight and get roaringly drunk. Days never seem quite so bad when there's a bottle of vodka at the end of them.

later,
Chris...

Eurowatch

2006-02-23T13:42:00.000-08:00

I was just about to go to bed, for the last time, in Stockholm.

From there, it was to Copenhagen.

How strange.

later,
Chris...

I don't know why...

2006-02-21T18:18:00.000-08:00

...but I really, really feel I have to put something down somewhere.

I just tried walling it on facebook, and it didn't work. I just need to write something. Anything. Random thoughts that scat around.

Uni's fine, but travelling rules;
My room's cold, but the radiator's on full blast;
Why is Alex Kapranos so cool?;
My bed's made, but there's a book on it;
Ripped Gap bag means I should wash the trousers in it;
Twenty photos and two postcards can look like a wall display and a half;
I have nothing to write on my hall wall;
I should've bought more Coronas;
Phoning for references is a priority;
These trousers aren't comfortable...;
...But I got halfway around Europe in them;
Fuck. I left a year ago;
Yesterday;
Fuck;
This morning, a year ago, I took some of those photos;
Ohhh fuck;
I need to read my travel journal;
I get depressed reading my travel journal;
I get elated reading my travel journal;
I wish people read this blog;
I wish more people cared enough to check out the random shit in my head;
That makes me an arrogant fuck;
My vitamin tablets are running low;
That looked like vitamin tables;
What would a vitamin table look like?;
m&m's don't come in a big enough bag;
My favourite photos this year are still on my camera;
I miss the days I could drive out and see people;
I miss driving;
I almost miss Suffolk;
I'd miss here if I weren't here;
I don't know what I'm doing.

Maybe that's it. I need to write...I need to explode. I need to just collapse, and spill it all out to someone. I don't know who that someone might be, but sooner or later, someone's got to hear it all.

Fuck it - that's what phones are for.

later,
Chris...

It Was Twenty Years Ago Today...

2006-02-21T11:08:00.000-08:00

Actually, it wasn't. But the theme fits, and it's as good an excuse as any for me to quote The Beatles.

In fact, it was one year ago today. This time last year, I was getting ready to leave the Stockholm Youth Hostel, and go out on our first night of travelling drinking. Stockholm was expensive, though, so instead we just had one then returned to the hostel and watched football. How continental.

One year ago today. The start of the greatest adventure of my life so far. Possibly the greatest one I'll ever have. The first time I'd been away from home for more than a couple of weeks. The first time I'd been away under my own planning. The first time I'd been abroad without some authority figure to organise it for me.

One year ago today. The beginning of memories that won't fade. The beginning of experiences I'd never have known otherwise. The beginning of things that would shape me ever since. The beginning of my life, under my own power.

One year ago today. The first step that led to me meeting some of the coolest people I can imagine. A taster of a lifestyle that so many people just can't let go of. The first scratch into knowledge of how I want things to continue. The first step that took me to some of the most amazing places on earth. And right on my doorstep.

One year ago today. The first time I'd ever flown. The first time I could look out of a window, and see the earth just flowing past. The first time I ever felt really, truly out of my depth. In a place where I didn't speak the language, didn't know the culture, didn't comprehend the people.

One year ago today. The first time I truly tasted freedom.

365 days ago, my life changed. And it's one of the very few things I wouldn't change in the slightest.

later,
Chris...

Blast From The Past

2006-02-19T08:12:00.000-08:00

Last night. The. Best. Night.

Ever.

I hadn't seen Annie for six months before last night. When I, eventually, found her in Twickenham it was just like old times again. We've both changed, but it's still the same. Had about the best time I've had this year. Probably longer. Admittedly, it might've been made better with a bit more sleep - three hours just isn't enough for me - but otherwise, it was an absolutely faultless, beautiful, brilliant evening. And it was great to meet people I've heard so much about; Nav in particular. Seems like a lovely girl.

It's so, so stupid that we live so close to one another now, and that this is the first time we've met up in all the time I've been here. Hopefully it won't be another six months until we meet up again. Enjoy her company far too much for that.

later,
Chris...

Should I Stay Or Should I Go?

2006-02-17T18:38:00.000-08:00

My feelings are fickle. I'm well aware of that fact.

For so long here, there was really nobody who piqued my interest. The odd glance, the odd 'she's nice'. One who I thought I liked, but realised, much later on that I didn't. She's been written about here. Nothing interesting. Now, in the space of five weeks, two people who I've had the 'oh, wow' moment for. Two who've just slapped me, straight in the face, and announced themselves with a bang. Metaphorically, thankfully.

The first was a no-go. It's been documented here. This one - single (I won't say available - it sounds like a salesroom term), lovely, charming and oh-so-beautiful. Way, way out of my league then. I hate the idea of 'out of my league'. It's horrible. It's the sort of thing that I'll shoot down when one of my friends mentions it in relation to themselves. It's the exact thing I think whenever such a situation presents itself to me. It's symptomatic of my greatest fallibility; it's a perfect example of my complete lack of confidence in myself. I just can't help thinking, though, that it's an entirely justified lack of confidence. And no matter how much friends - great, great, fantastic friends - can tell me not to think that way, not to be silly, not to be so-fucking-stupid, I just can't help it. It's me. And that's a very difficult thing to change.

I also know that there's a good chance that, when spurned (ever the optimist, see) I'll take it with the same diffidence as ever, and quietly and meekly move on. I don't want to do that. I want to be honest to myself, and accept that I really like this girl, and not force myself to move away against my feelings. But my internal spite for my shortcomings far outweighs any confidence I have in myself as a person. And so, every time something in the love-sphere goes wrong, I'll take it jointly as a personal-affront, and further evidence of being everything I dislike, and nothing that I want to be. And thus the self-confidence spiral deepens. Don't worry though - it's a state I'm well accustomed to. And I can pretend to show little interest in the way I'm feeling quite well. It's only late at night and alone that I start to realise how I truly feel.

Know what helps though? Waterloo Sunset. Is there anything that that song wouldn't help?

later,
Chris...

Boozing and Musing

2006-02-16T15:56:00.000-08:00

Is it more, or less alcohol that allows you to see things more clearly?

Today, I think, I've had a bit more than after the last night out on which I posted here. And, although the end result - my returning home before anybody else - is largely the same, the cause is rather different. Today, I'm not depressed by everything. Today, I'm just bored.

Completely and utterly bored.

Bored with the people I find myself in proximity with. Not my friends, but the people on either side of them. The people they find oh-so-interesting. The people they seem to worship. Yeah - what's the big-fucking-deal? Of course, it may help that some of said people are the exact ones I railed against on the 14th. It may help that my resolution from thenceforth on has allowed me to not view the lack of conversation from such people as an affront. It may just be that I'm right, and that these people just aren't as great as I'm told to believe they are.

If more alcohol allows you to see more clearly, then it's probably that.

later,
Chris...

Fuck This

2006-02-15T00:28:00.000-08:00

Enough.

Right now, tonight, enough. No more.

Fuck this.

From tonight, I've decided, no more ridiculous, fucking self-pity. No more depression. No more envious 'I wish I could have what you have', 'be what you are', 'know what you know' bullshit. No more depressive cycles that end with me, standing in Medicine with my flatmates, trying not to look too much like I couldn't give a shit whether someone punched me in the face or not.

No more standing around, wishing someone would come over to me and talk. No more hating the fact that people my friends are friends with seem to just blank me on the spot. No more hoping, wishing, wanting something to happen. No more backing out of conversations because I just don't know where to take them. No more using the loud music as an excuse for not talking properly, not being myself.

No more fucking bullshit.

A couple of weeks ago, I talked to a very, very good friend about this sort of thing. She told me, in no uncertain terms, to sort myself out or this was going to fuck me up. She was so, so fucking right. Right now I feel totally fucked up. Worse. I feel like I'm fucking things up - like I'm sabotaging myself, when it's the very last thing I want to do. Like I'd rather things were shit than good. For the record, I don't. I don't go out with the intention of getting myself into one of these fucked up moods. I don't go out with the intention of filling myself with as poisonous a mixture of alcoholic chemicals as I can. I don't go out with the intention of becoming an uber-depressive fuckwit. It just seems to happen that way.

But not anymore. I'm determind to end this absolute load of crap. Right now I don't feel so great about myself. From tomorrow, hopefully, things will begin to change. They have to, because I can't handle this sort of thing for very much longer. I can't do this anymore - I can't do being the quiet, supportive one. I can't do being the single, advisory one. I can't handle being ironic about not having anyone. I can't do this me that I'm trying to be.

From tomorrow, everything changes.

It has to, or everything's going to shit.

At least it's not February the fucking fourteenth anymore.

later,
Chris...

Happy Valentine's Day

2006-02-14T12:12:00.000-08:00

February 14.
Valentine's Day.
Fuck.

Of all the annual dates and ridiculous notions we're supposed to sign up to and look forward to, I don't think there's a single one that gains as much vitriol from me as Valentine's Day. Valen-fucking-tine's Day.

I'm not going to pretend that it's got anything to do with anything exept my own personal uselessness with the whole thing. Simply put, I've never received a Valentine's Card. Thus, whenever the wonderful fourteenth of February rolls around, it seems merely to effect a compounding of my disappointments. Sure, there's something deeply selfish about that, but that's just human emotion for you. I can't help the fact that I simply-fucking-hate this day!

Moreover, I'm not entirely sure I can help the fact that I'm rubbish at it either. There's only so many times you can send someone a heartfelt card (twice, in my case, and not for a few years now) without response before you become disillusioned with the whole idea of it all. And right now, I'd certainly say I'm feeling a state of disillusionment.

So, what have I done with my Valentine's Day so far? Stayed in bed for as long as I could physically manage - about 11:15 - then cleaned my Converses, and now blogged. Something tells me I'm just not going to get into the spirit of this whole Valentine's thing.

Bring on tomorrow.

later,
Chris...

One year, Three Ducks and a Whole Bunch of Canadians

2006-02-09T23:58:00.000-08:00

I've always found it odd that you can go for months and months without mentioning or thinking about something, and then as soon as you do it just keeps coming relentlessly up.

Travelling, for instance. Obviously it's never very far from my mind - how could it be? - but within the last week particularly it's been the most prevalent thing in my mind. That's probably largely thanks to the fact that in twelve days' time, it'll be exactly one year since Pete, Smith and I flew out to Stockholm. God - what an experience. The whole thing. The whole fucking thing. Will I ever do something as memorable?

Thus, as soon as it becomes one of my primary considerations again, Laura sends me a msg on here. And we chat. About Paris, and the Eiffel Tower incident. And headbutts. And the Three Ducks - The Three-fucking-Ducks. And now I'm thinking about the Louvre, and Pere Lachaise (?) Cemetery, and the Irish Bar, and the day we all parted ways. That was actually emotional. Really got close to those guys there. I still keep in good contact with Jen, but I've barely spoken to Laura since I got back to England. Talking to her now I can see just why we all clicked that one evening.

One day I hope we might meet again. The dreamer in me wants us all to meet entirely by accident. In Paris again. The realist in me wants to sit down and plan a time and place for us all to be in 2, 3, 5 years. Maybe the funniest thing is that, of the two options, I'm more inclined to believe it'd be the dreamer's that would happen.

Maybe I haven't changed all that much in the past year.

later,
Chris...

Where Is My Mind?

2006-02-07T17:26:00.000-08:00

Someone's getting laid in a room somewhere near mine. It's quite audible.

That's about all I have to say.

And that is extremely depressing.

later,
Chris...

Stoicism

2006-01-30T15:11:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine recently introduced me to online poker. I'm not into the whole playing aspect of it just yet, but I've had the rules and strategies explained to me, and I think I could just about hold my own in a game. In fact, he's playing in a tournament tonight. Of 313 players that begun, he's currently in the last 27. Which means he's in the money. Well played.

On the last hand he was dealt two kings in the hand, and went all in straight away. That's a big gamble, but he'd been dealt a nice hand. It's difficult to lose when you get a good hand.

Of course, in poker if you get dealt a bad hand, there's always the option of simply folding. You might lose a little, but comparitively the blinds are going to end you; the game won't cripple you. If life deals you a bad hand, though, you're fucked. Maybe a little blunt, but there's the truth for you. It's all one big game of poker, and there's no folding, no checking, no small bets. You're all in, or you're nothing.

Recently, I think I went all in on a hand that looked promising. Now that I look at it again, I think it may have been a 2 and a 4, with everyone else holding aces. If you don't know poker, I can summarise that very simply: it was shit.

It was, as is so often the case, on a girl. Haven't known her long, but we seemed to bond quickly, promisingly. And, as is also so often the case, I guess I let the hope of it go to my head; talk about a failed romantic. I think she's great, I know we've got it all in place to be good friends. I just thought - really, really hoped - that it might be something more. I seem to do that too frequently. Far too frequently. Now, all my chips are in and it looks very likely that I'm going to come out with nothing. I wasn't outplayed - I just didn't try and find out what everyone else had. Maybe I'm not much of a player.

But what can you do? Put on your best poker face. If you go out, just take it with stoicism. Move on.

How British.

later,
Chris...

Home, Sweet Home.

2006-01-26T09:09:00.000-08:00

My housing problems have been well documented here. Or, at least, as well documented as anything else.

At midday on Tuesday, I was returning from Staines, having bought the new album by the Arctic Monkeys. It's very good, by the way, but I digress. On my mind were two major things: the precis assignment due for tomorrow morning, and the fact that I had no idea who I was going to be living with next year. Tris, Flic, Lou and Liam had a house sorted. Fran knew she was living with Tess amongst others. Nick and I were slightly concerned and had, more in hope than expectation, placed an advert on the campus intranet.

Desperately Seeking Housemates.

How humiliating.

By Wednesday at 1:00, we had two more housemates. And a house. Funny how things can work out, isn't it?

Talk about a weight off the mind.

later,
Chris...

Tears

2006-01-19T17:11:00.000-08:00

For the first time in what seems like ages, I nearly cried tonight. It was the greatest thing.

In spite of my enjoyment of university and everything it entails, I couldn't in all honesty say that it's as wonderful as I'd hoped it might be. The course is fantastic and, while the social life is a lot of fun, I'm simply not the integral part of a friendship group that I felt I was at home. I've got a group - don't get me wrong, there are friends here that I'd stake my life one - but I'm not a truly central figure. I feel like I'm often drifting around the periphary a lot.

Tonight I found out that I'm not alone. And, for the first time since coming here, I really opened up. Everything that had been bothering me, worrying me, concerning me and playing on my mind came out. And I was here to listen to someone too. To hear their problems. To try and help. Just like the past. I nearly cried thanks to the relief of it.

There's so much in 'my past life' - that being the one I held before coming here - that I miss with a passion I can't articulate. And it scares me that I may never refind some of that. But tonight I really think I bore witness to some of it again. Realised I was still the person I was a couple of years ago. The person who I half wish I could still be. If I got a little of that Chris back again tonight, then maybe all the worry has been worth it.

The tears I almost shed are the most worthwhile I've known in a long time.

later,
Chris...

Guess Who's Back...

2006-01-19T04:07:00.000-08:00

I didn't forget about you!

Really, I promise, I didn't. What I actually forgot was my username. And my password. Which really, really, really didn't help posting matters.

Fact of the matter is, though, that I probably wouldn't have been posting much over the festive period. In between working, giving and receiving of presents, seeing family and drinking, I'm not sure there would've been a great deal of time for blogging. Now, however, I'm back at university, and back in time wasting mode. With more time off than I can shake a very big stick at I've no idea what I ought to be doing. Of course, one might say that I should be doing the extensive reading list I have, and getting out of the way the little work I currently have to do. To those people, I say 'piffle'!

Or some such thing anyway.

Uninspiringly enough, I have very little else to add right now. Certain things are a little 'up in the air' at the minute, and by committing said phrase to paper, I live in hope that I can just sort it out without any of my usual lack of delicacy and thought.

Stranger things have happened.

later,
Chris...

Of Ithakas and Hallelujahs

2005-12-13T08:20:00.001-08:00

The two things that I've been reading/listening to.

ITHAKA

As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare sensation
touches your spirit and your body,
Laistrygonians, Cyclops
wild Poseidon-you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbours you're seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind-
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from those who know.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvellous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

---------------------------------------------------
It's an anonymous poem, and it's ancient. That's all I know about it. But I love it.

HALLELUJAH

Well I heard there was a secret chord
that David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this:
The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah

Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah

Well Baby I've been here before
I*'ve seen* this room, and I've walked this floor,
I used to live alone before I knew you
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah

Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do you
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah

Maybe there is a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah.
- Leonard Cohen
----------------------------------------------
Jeff Buckley's 'Grace' is on constant repeat on my iTunes at the moment. This is my highlight. It's an amazing, amazing song.

later,
Chris...

Oh Coffee Pot, Oh Coffee Pot

2005-12-11T17:33:00.000-08:00

Oh dear.

Why did I decide it would be a good idea to drink four mugs of coffee at about 11:00 this evening? Did I really think I was going to finish my essay while riding the caffeine high? Of course I wasn't going to do that - instead, I wrote about 500 more words, then decided that my time would be far better spent trawling the internet while my synapses are doing somersaults. And now I'm blogging. Again. Why? Because, in spite of the fact that I know I have lectures in eight and a half hours, I have absolutely no desire to go to bed. In fact, I'm feeling more lively now than I have done for about a week.

I can see what the effect's going to be in the morning; I'll be a grumpy bastard, and I'll probably fall asleep in Contemporary Theatre. If not there, it's quite likely to happen in my poetry lecture - it often makes me drowsy at the best of times. And tomorrow isn't going to be the best of times. Don't be too surprised if tomorrow I'm seen spouting Dickens: 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times'.

Right - time to find something to tire me. Maybe I should try re-reading Pamela; that's pretty much guaranteed to send me into a drowsiness.

later,
Chris...

My Narnia

2005-12-11T12:00:00.000-08:00

Something's been keeping me away from here for a few days.

On Thursday evening, I came home inspired and ready to make a big post about childhood, freedom and my way forward. It was all floating around in my head. It was going to be one of those big, heart-felt entries. The sort you either look back on and go 'wow' or 'what the fuck?'. But something stopped me. Perhaps it was just that I needed to get to bed, or perhaps it was that I thought I could do it better in the morning. Whichever it was, it delayed me. In the morning, I decided that lectures and reading my set texts were possibly a bit more important. In the evening, eating and chilling out. Then yesterday came starting the essay. And the same today. Now, just as I've decided to sit down and spill, the inspiration isn't there. Or, rather, it is, but it's more clinical. Less emotional.

But I'll try anyway.

The 'Thursday Inspiration' came from a trip to the cinema. We saw The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. And, whatever it's relative strengths and weaknesses, one thing that it really connected me to was a feeling of longing for childhood. I wanted to be a child. And play hide-and-seek. And find my own wardrobe - and my own Narnia. Because - whatever it may mean to you - that's what it meant to me; freedom. And escapism. Somewhere you can disappear to, and escape the mundanaity of all of this. It's not something that only just occurred to me, though, and perhaps that's why it made me think of it so strongly. Always, I find myself looking for the next way out; for travelling, for university, for work, for Christmas, for summer, for winter, for music, for films, for reading, for writing, for alcohol. Ultimately, that's what they all come down to, what all my obsessions and goals amount to; a way to get away. Perhaps I just don't want to sit down and contemplate what I'm doing now. Always looking for the future, or for the past, so I don't have to worry about the present.

But maybe not. Because when I really think about it, it's all a good thing. There's nothing wrong with looking backwards, and there's nothing wrong with having goals for the future. Keep them in sight, but don't hurry them. Just enjoy the present, and the here, and the now. And when things do seem a little less clear, and you're not quite so sure, then there are people there to help. There are friends who'll laugh if you phone them at 1:00 in the morning, and then chat to you and make you feel better. And there are friends who you'll do it for too.

Maybe there's nothing to worry about, really. Let the past creep up. Let the future loom ahead. And let the present be what it's going to be. In my wallet, since year 12, I've kept a copy of 'Ithaka'. It's a poem that really jumped out at me when I first read it. Still rings true now. Find it, if you get a chance, and read it. It's worth the trouble.

Ithaka and allowing things to be what they are. That's my Narnia.

later,
Chris...

Christmas Lights

2005-12-08T13:00:00.000-08:00

Blame it on Radio1.

I heard Wires by Athlete for the first time in a long time this morning. A review of the year or something, and as Athlete have had 'a great year', they decided to play Wires. To clarify things, it's not the first time it's actually been playing in my presence for a long time. It's just the first time that I've really heard it. And properly listened to it.

I was in the car waiting to pick Rachel up from school when I first heard it. I wouldn't pull away until it had finished. It's not the best song I've ever heard. Not even close. In fact, it's only a fairly decent song. But it's the lyrcis, and the time and everything that surrounds it that makes me sit up and listen now. It reminds me of loads of people. Of Butcher's nights. Of work. Of phone calls. It takes me back to a time when all this idea of deadlines and grades was just a distant future, and even when travelling was still little more than a broad outline, and when the only real thought was about work the next day.

Back then it connected with me. There was something desperate in the lyrics; there was certainly something desperate in me at that time. Perhaps there still is, but right at that moment it just clicked into place. I could hear the song and, though bearing no relation to my own experiences, I'd feel somehow linked to it. It seems like a strange thing to say, but for a while it really was 'my song'.

Hearing it again now takes me back to then. I think it was all a lot easier then. If I wanted a day where I'd do nothing but go and spend some money, I could do it. If I wanted to go and see some friends, I could give them a call, and we'd all be in the pub by 7:00 that evening. If I wanted to talk to people, it was only a case of picking up the phone. The friends I had then were so fantastic. They still are, but it's different now. It was different from the day I got on the plane to Stockholm. It was certainly different the day I stepped off the one from Amsterdam.

Thinking about it from here, I'm not sure I made all the right decisions. I do love it here, but maybe there was a better way for me to go about things. I'm not exactly sure that that better way might have been, but I'm sure it exists somewhere. Or maybe it's just a view distorted by the passage of time. Things always look better retrospectively. I'm sure there were times last year when I just couldn't wait to move on. In fact, I know there were. I only have to look at my livejournal to know that. Or remember the conversations I had prior to going travelling - the ones that went "yeah, I can't wait to go travelling, but part of me can't wait to get back, get through the summer and go to university". Maybe that's exactly why I'm not as entirely here as I might like to be; perhaps I built it up too much.

But Wires. It's an obsession that will fade. I'm sure even the strange feelings connected to it will die away sooner, rather than later. But here's a record of it. Not organic, and not in me, but right here.

Delaying tactics expended: I should do some work now.

later,
Chris...

Creative Respite

2005-12-06T17:44:00.000-08:00

It's been a while, but for the first time since coming here, I've actually started to find things a little testing. Not in terms of the work, you understand. That - thus far - has actually not been on the difficult side at all. Sure, I've had times where I've needed to lock myself in my room and work my arse off, but that's just natural. It's not especially difficult.

Not the social side of things either. Great night out last night ending in a great night in with a bunch of people, some of whom I'm not actually sure I know. But it was a super night.

Nah - the difficulties are coming from the propspect of next year. And of living arrangements. See, there are too many of us to make up one house, and too few to make up two. And then there are a few people from the outside who might be coming into our living arrangements. Which is great. Except it's going to leave some people out in the cold. Now, I'm fairly easy - so to speak, that is - and I won't have a problem with living with most people. But there are one or two who I really don't want to end up living with. The major problem being that the way things are panning out, it may be these very people that I end up sharing with. It's a bit of a worry, to be honest.

So, as often happens when I'm in a bit of a rut, I got creative. The result of which has been an even larger than usual alcohol consumption - it's my own little muse...if only I had some absinthe to hand - and a handy little wall collage, which I'm constantly adding to. Any magazine images, cool slogans, words or any such thing have now become an organic part of my room. Unsurprisingly, what I add to it largely depends on my mood. So today's additions are of a largely unhappy nature. No artist works well in favourable conditions!

Joking aside, though, it's a bit of a worry for me. One I probably don't need at the moment. It's just that I've been so lucky with my housemates this year; don't want to end up with a not so good arrangement for the next two. Hopefully it'll come to nothing though. Doesn't really bear thinking about if not.

later,
Chris...

Long Time Gone

2005-12-06T03:44:00.000-08:00

So, the college internet died for a couple of days. I almost died with it!

Honestly, didn't know what to do with myself. Except drink the sense out of myself a little bit more. And be more social. And, actually, do some work! Like an essay and a performance yesterday - wow!

That's all for now. I'm hungover. Yeah.

later,
Chris...

Gone, going

2005-11-26T21:35:00.000-08:00

A week since I last posted anything here.

Over a week, actually, since although it was technically Saturday when I did my last update, it was really very late on a Friday night. That's beside the point though.

The real point is that for the past week, I've really not had anything to say. It doesn't help that I've just got ill, of course. Feels like I've been under the weather for ages, but as I was feeling fine when I wrote that last piece, then it can't have been more than a week. Thinking about it, it's probably only been four or five days. But it feels like forever.

Universities are such terrible places to be with regards to illness. Aside from the communal sharing of germs engendered by such close living-quarters, the diet's almost uniformly unhealthy, alcohol consumption's through the roof, and sleep is at something of a premium. Indeed, even when you do try to get an early night, something seems to come along and wreck it. Like the fire alarm at 12:40am on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. Spending 15 minutes in the freezing cold, wearing only my pyjamas as I hadn't really been responding when I fled my room under the awful NAH-NAH-NAH-NAH noise of the fire alarm can't have been very good for me.

Indeed, we're all ill at the moment, really. None more so than Flic, who's picked up sinusitis and a glandular infection. Of course, it sounds rather like Tris and I have mild versions of this too. But at least mine seems to be slowly clearing. If I'm not better by Monday, though, a trip to the Health Centre calls. Hopefully the heavy dosages of lemsips, sinus capsules and nasal-clearing fluid (there's a nice image for you) I'm imbibing should be enough to ward away anything over the next few days.

Hey - Guess I have got something to say after all. It's not very interesting, and it's sure as hell not very pleasant, but it's a start! Perhaps when I'm feeling completely better, I'll be able to think of even more tales of my blocked sinuses to regale you with. Or maybe even something completely different!

You just never can tell...

later,
Chris...

Where Were You While We Were Getting High?

2005-11-19T02:05:00.001-08:00

Met someone today. Friend of a friend.

She reminded me so much of Annie.

It's strange how something as simple as that can set you thinking. Not thinking in a bad way, not thinking in a good way; just thinking. There are things about 3 years ago - shit, 2, 1 year(s) ago - that I miss so much. I am happy here - I love it here - but nostalgia's a funny thing. And it's certainly kicked in a bit tonight.

So, where's it taken me? To thinking about Belgium. The funny thing is, I was in Belgium long before I'd even heard of the existence of Annie. But in Belgium, I was wearing this shirt. We were in a strange hostel place about 10 miles from Ypres - not the terrible one when we were travelling, mind - and I was sharing a room with Al and Gilham. Emlyn had his boxers stolen, and Jess and Fi were pretending to be lesbians to try and get him to strip, then to lock him out of his room. We weren't allowed to drink at the bar (too young, apparently) so Jess sneaked a foul Archers concoction onto the bus. We called it love juice, and got tipsy on it. It was really cold. We felt like we would catch hypothermia in the trenches, and in the woods.

So, where's it taken me? To thinking about Wetherspoons. In Norwich. One afternoon, just before she went to uni, when Annie and I went for lunch. We weren't supposed to - weren't allowed to! - but decided 'fuck it, why shouldn't we?' We drove past her on the way, but we weren't in either of our cars, so we weren't noticed.

So, where's it taken me? To Burgh-St.-Peter. And The Missing Strings. And rehearsals in the village hall. We weren't as good as we thought. But it was so much fun! Like playing ping-pong tournaments in the hall when D wanted us to rehearse - we were recording the next day, but couldn't be fucked with actually playing! And putting Emlyn in the attic. Just because we could. And D Warner painting ice-cream faces on Al and Pete's windows. Or just drinking with them all. Or Mutfest. Or recording. Or the gig we did at school.

So, where's it taken me? The Common Room. No specific time. Just...flashes. Like half-memories. Me, with Walker and Steve's crew, just talking about nothing. Didn't even enjoy their company much, but it was fun. Or with Emlyn. Putting him in the bin, or talking about films, or talking about nothing, or just talking. Or bitching. Or swearing about nothing. Or with Sam and Vix, just doing random things. Like space hopper conversations. Will I ever forget that?

So, where's it taken me? To Ipswich. And the cinema. And Scary Movie 3. It wasn't even any good, but who cared, because we'd organised it all at the last minute? Literally, a phone call, and ten minutes later I was on the way to Ipswich. Me, Jen and Smith. We picked up Annie on the way. Jose Reyes was making his debut for Arsenal. I remember, because it was on the radio. We heard Hey Ya! and Run on the radio on the way home. I was the only one singing along, but it didn't matter. It was a really good night. Don't know if there was another one after that.

So, where's it taken me? Here. To London. To see the Threepenny Opera. And meeting Jess. Sam and Ben nearly missed the train, because they'd gone to a skate park. D and I went to a pub, and met up with Margit. He'd brought his polaroid camera. The 'Mr Lova-Lova' photos. It was more fun than I'll ever forget.

You can't go back. It's not hard to remember that. And it's not hard to remember in general. Sometimes memories get too much - they overcome you a bit, and it's hard to think straight. And it's hard to remember where you are. Or where you're at. Sometimes I wish I could be back in those moments. If I had the choice, I'd make each of them last a lifetime. Or more. And sometimes they feel like they did, and like it was someone else's life. Or like this is just a new life.

And sometimes it's like I don't even know it anymore. But those memories were real. And they made me who I am. And there are so, so many more. Hundreds. Thousands. Everything. And I'm grateful for every single one of them. I'll never forget those people who were involved. And I'll never forget how they helped me, shaped me and made me. Because, more than anything, it's the people I've known - incomparable and amazing, every one of them - who've made me. Nothing I've done has had a hundredth of the effect that these people have done. I'm eternally grateful for it. And I hope with my entire self that I never forget that.

So - thank you. To all of them. To all of you.

later,
Chris...

Davey Jones' Locker

2005-11-17T07:05:00.000-08:00

Oceana last night.

Don't bother. Seriously.

It was the third NADS trip - 100% attendance for me! - and, as it was recently Suzie's birthday and we all wanted to get off campus, our entire flat went along. A shame that they had to pick the worst of the trips to join us on, really. Let's get one thing immediately straight. Oceana is risible. Like Hanks, but bigger. In fact, like 5 Hanks all joined together into one super-shit-club.

Aside from the major problems (terrible DJ's, uninspired music, a truly terrible sound system, crap bouncers, expensive drinks, a largely chavvy clientele and far, far too many people) it was just the most uniteresting, unengaging club I've ever experienced. All aesthete and no substance. And hell, even aesthetically it was disappointing! The 'cheese' room - not my choice, trust me - had the triumvirate of difficulties in that the dance-floor was ridiculously small, it was freezing and it managed the truly uneviable quality of smelling of cheese! Don't even think about the R'n'B room; heard the expression "sardines packed in a can"? That would be an understatement.

There's nothing to reccommend about it. Nothing at all.

And to top it all off, this afternoon, I have to read Wordsworth's 'Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey". While I can't directly blame Oceana for that, I think I'm going to apportion part of the blame there anyway. Just because.

later,
Chris...

Out Of Time

2005-11-13T16:48:00.001-08:00

So, sneaking up upon me, the end of reading week draws near. It seems like more than a week ago that I was at home.

It's been a strange old week. Horrible journey back on Monday with later drunkeness, Staines on Tuesday (perhaps...I'm not really certain if it where then or Wednesday), nothing on Wednesday (assuming that it was Tuesday that we went to Staines, London on Thursday, essay collections on Friday, Susie's birthday yesterday with great drunkeness and finally today, on which I didn't even wake until 1:00pm.

All that reading I planned to do - none of it done. I've not even finished Pamela. I haven't even bought Tamburlaine. Things just seem to be building up around me. Don't really know what to do about it all either. Writing Blog posts probably isn't helping.

It's not just work stress that's hitting me a little; there's the whole relationship (lack of) thing that's bothering me a bit. There's always the idea that at uni, finding someone ought to be easy. Or possible, at least. But it doesn't seem to be; at least, not to me. It's a bit depressing.

But hey - there's far worse things going on with people in the world. It's not something I should complain about. Just difficult to see that from time-to-time.

Right now, the best thing I can do would be to sit down, pick up Pamela and drive on through that. It might not be a lot of fun, but it sure is necessary. And I'm willing to bet that I'll feel better when I can finally put it down, and say "Finished". Then I can start concentrating on other matters.

I'm looking forward to that time.

later,
Chris...

Out Of Time

2005-11-13T16:48:00.000-08:00

Wake Up!

2005-11-11T16:51:00.000-08:00

Today, I've been mostly browsing other peoples' journals. Actually, that's not really true. I had a brief look at my Contemporary Theatre one - yeah, it's still crap - and then went looking to see if anybody else around here had one. Here, I stumbled across one from a girl who started at Royal Holloway this year. Doing drama. And I've absolutely no idea who she is - don't think I've ever met her. But one of my flatmates is in there.

Now, that seems a bit bizarre to me. Not that there's some reason that I should know everybody involved with either my course or my friends, but just that there can be people that I've definitely been in some form of lecture, seminar or workshop with, and yet have no idea of who they are. Gives a little impression of just how big this whole thing is.

It's been a pretty fun week, this one.

Arriving back here on Monday was fantastic. It was just so good to be back. And it still is. I'm not quite sure what it is about it; whether I love it because I came here determined to do so, or because of the people, or because of the course, or just plain because. But there's something comfortable about being here. And I don't just mean the campus, either. The whole area. Egham. London. I love it.

Even the mere idea of it: I live in London. It's just fantastic. I always said I'd be more comfortable in the city, and I stand by that conviction. Even as trains pull into Waterloo, having come from Egham, I feel happier. It's odd, but oh-so-true.

Jen was down yesterday. Took her to the theatre for her birthday. It was a lot of fun. Ideally, I'd get as many friends from home down here, just to take them around university. Then around London. And be able to say to them 'look, guys...this is where I live. This is home'. I'm not sure they'd understand the fact that I've so quickly adapted to it. Or, more accurately, that I've so quickly adopted it.

Southwold will always be 'home', of course. I grew up there, and all the important, formative events of my life happened there, more or less. But I've branched away now. I love going home and seeing the family and stuff, but going there from here feels like going away from home. Not the other way around.

It's a change. It's a good one.

All the others are out tonight. Tris and Nick are out, seeing Gavin DeGraw at Shepherd's Bush, Fran's at home, and Flic's working. Susie's around tonight, but with Patrick here, we barely see her anymore. I don't mind too much, though - it feels like an introspective sort of night, so I'm going to go and get a couple of beers, and then just chill out with a film, or finish off my reading or something.

Besides - I need some relaxation; my body's not enjoying the exercise regime I've decided to put it through. It's nothing especially heavy, but I'm determined to start getting a bit into shape. So, 20 press ups and 20 sit ups each morning and evening. That should help to shift some of that beer mass gain.

later,
Chris...

How well does iTunes know me?

2005-11-11T08:15:00.000-08:00

Ok, a game for y'all.

Open your media player of choice. Put it on random. Ask the following questions, and use the corresponding song as the answer. Post comments if you like. Go for it.

1. What do you think of me, iTunes?

Dream Brother - Jeff Buckley.

Groovy. Good start, iTunes.

2. Will I have a happy life?

Demon Days - Gorillaz

Are you sure you wouldn't like to rethink that one? Please??

3. What do my friends really think of me?

Square One - Coldplay

Well, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? You've let me down, iTunes.

4. Do people secretly lust after me?

Swallowed In The Sea - Coldplay

Is this something about so many people wanting me, it's like being in a sea of them? Please?

5. How can I make myself happy?

The Gospel - Dandy Warhols

Look, no matter what you recommend, I am not becoming a born again Christian. I'm just not.

6. What should I do with my life?

Time Won't Wait - Jamiroquai

So I have to decide now? Seriously?!

7. Why must life be so full of pain?

Territorial Pissings - Nirvana

Heh.

8. How can I maximise my pleasure during sex?

Outside - David Bowie

Sounds like an idea to me!

9. Will I die happy?

Jacqueline - Franz Ferdinand

What the fuck? Seriously.

10. Can you give me some advice?

Thru' These Architects Eyes - David Bowie

Erm...guess not.

11. What do you think happiness is?

Under My Wheels - Prodigy

Look, it's my iTunes that wants to run things over, not me!

12. What's my favourite fetish?

Outsiders - Franz Ferdinand.

So, I can maximise my pleasure during sex with "Outside" and my fetish is "Outsiders". Trying to tell me something?

13. How will I be remembered?

Start Button - 2 Many DJ's.

Do wha'?

----------------------------------------------------------

Ok, that's it. Now you.

later,
Chris...

Homely

2005-11-09T08:57:00.000-08:00

There's something deeply rustic about eating a ploughmans, and drinking some real ale for dinner! While I was shopping in Egham earlier, the inspiration hit me. So I bought pickled onions, bread and some very groovy Green King ale, in a deeply impressive shaped bottle. "Beer to Dine For" apparently...tastes good is all I know.

I already had the cheese, in case you were wondering.

All I really need is a tankard to be drinking from, but sadly my tankard is at home. And I get the impression it's more of a decorative item than a useable one.

It's all good, though.

later,
Chris...

Get Back

2005-11-06T12:26:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow afternoon, I'm back to London.

Nearly said 'going home'. It feels like that.

I'm really looking forward to getting back, actually. Southwold's nice, but it's too quiet. And there aren't enough friends around here anymore. That'll probably change at Christmas, but for now it feels quite lonely.

Also, I feel a little over-indulged here. It's like everything's just a bit too easy. Which is bizarre...never had myself down as the 'work hard for yourself' type.

It's been an expensive five days, though. Transport, haircut, going out, buying things...it all adds up. But hey - I've got some laundry done, I've eaten well and I'm ready for next week! It helps that next week involves just a single seminar. I like reading week.

On another note, I've had some of the best news I've heard in a long time; Emma's coming back down in the Spring! I'm ludicrously happy about that. Just hope we get to spend a bit of time together!

later,
Chris...

Life Changing

2005-11-05T11:22:00.000-08:00

Wandering around Norwich this afternoon, I got thinking about how people change over time. Sometimes a great deal, sometimes very little. It led me to think that there must be times, moments or events that are absolutely fundamental in the development of a person; things that change you utterly.

So what are they for you? What are your epiphanies? What made you who you are?

There are some pretty obvious ones for me:

1) Travelling - No-brainer here, really. Going travelling changed me utterly. The self-confidence went right up. The life experience increased no end. My appreciation for little things went through the roof. I'm still not quite sure to how great an extent going away changed me, and I'm still not sure how much of it was unconditionally for the better. But every day I can now think of some way in which travelling made me a different person.

2) University - Of course, this is a current, and very changing one. Every day there something about me changes, develops, shrinks, alters or is otherwise different. And, of course, this isn't always going to be a good thing. But as a whole, the changes I've experienced since starting have been positive. And they'll continue to grow for the next three years. Who knows - Royal Holloway could be the thing that I can look back on in years to come and say 'hey...that's what defines me'.

3) David Bowie - This is a little less definite than the others. But, in all seriousness, the discovery of David Bowie's music - and everything that came from that - did wonders for me. Has anybody in my 'actual' life had such an effect on me? Sure, of course - but not many. It isn't idolisation...it's more of an awakening. Which sounds really wanky. But that doesn't change the truth of it.

4) Drama - Anybody knowing me in Year 8, about to go into high school, would've sworn blind that there was no way in the world I would even consider becoming a drama student. Shit, even I would've said "no way". But here I am...and it's down to the decision to take drama at GCSE. Who said they're not important?

There are probably more...in fact, there certainly are. But these things were pretty instrumental in making me 'me'. Seems strange, breaking it down like that. But there it is.

So - you're up guys. What did it for you?

later,
Chris...

Live Music

2005-11-01T08:57:00.000-08:00

3 bands. £1.

Not a bad deal.

Last night, the union finally put on something I'd term really worth attending. It may not have been entirely my sort of music, but these sort of things are always worth going along to - after all, you never know what you might find! And for £1, then you really shouldn't be arguing!

Strangely, though, I was absolutely shattered this morning. Really, genuinely exhausted. Slept all the way through to my alarm, and still felt bloody terrible when I got up. Strange, because I've not really had that in the time I've been here. But hey - it's an excuse to stay in and finish any of the work I've got, which is exactly what I did. Well...nearly, anyway. I've got to add a couple of things, and cut out a hundred or so words from my Mary Stuart performance analysis, but it's near enough finished anyway.

This time tomorrow, I should be on my way home! 2:00pm train from Liverpool Street - Norwich. 4:30 haircut in Tony & Guy - possibly my favourite place - and then being picked up and heading home. Which is nice.

Nothing much planned for tomorrow evening, though I do want to see if I can get Mum to go to the fishmonger's and pick me up a Lemon Sole. I'm craving fish, and I really want a nice, pan-fried sole. Mmmmm. Thursday night will be a trip into Norwich, for the cinema with Jen. Which'll be great. Too long since I've seen her.

Still have to buy her a birthday present, actually.

Any ideas?

later,
Chris...

Brick Walls

2005-10-29T13:47:00.000-07:00

Essay writing is something I'm really, really not used to.

One year out, and suddenly it's as alien to me as Swahili spoken by a mute dolphin. Where, in the past, I'd've been able to just sit down and write without having to think too much about anything, suddenly I find myself stopping every thirty seconds, questioning just what it is I'm writing. Am I doing this right? Should I add something in here? Am I talking about the right stuff at all? It's stressful dammit!

And then, just as I get into the flow of it, just as everything seems to be clicking, and the cognitive juices flowing...BANG! It's like I hit a brick wall. And, just like that, I can't write another word. Everything I write seems to be wrong. Nothing good about it anymore. So what's the use? Give up. Come back another time.

So, unfortunately, that's what I've done. I'd rather hoped to get my English work done this evening, do my drama tomorrow and then leave Tuesday free for me to get my shit together, ready to go home on Wednesday. As things stand, though, I've only got about 75% of the English done, meaning I may not get the drama done tomorrow. Which means that will be done on Tuesday. Which means a stressful day on Wednesday.

But hey - it's all good fun, right?

later,
Chris...

Homeward Bound

2005-10-28T08:40:00.000-07:00

Another week down.

Problem is, it's been an expensive week, and I've got a great big workload to get through over the course of this weekend. A poetry response for Monday, along with a truly bollocks 'theatrical barter' piece of toss. Then a performance analysis for Wednesday. I get the impression I'll be a bit of a boring sod for this weekend.

But hey - come 11:00 on Wednesday, I'll be making a move homeward. Ordinarily, I'd've waited 'til Friday, but having had my Friday seminar postponed I'd be waiting around for two and a half days just for a one hour lecture on the Friday morning. Doesn't seem worthwhile to me. Besides, Claire, Fran or maybe both are going to collect the lecture notes and suchlike for me, so I'm in pretty safe hands!

Also, it's Jen's birthday on Saturday, but we're going out on Friday night to Norwich. Meal and clubbing. And I don't really fancy the idea of rolling straight off the trains, and into a club. I'd be a grouchy fucker! Of course, I'm not entirely sure how I'll respond to Norwich clubbing again; the places round here - union dishonourably excepted - have spoiled me somewhat! Why have dog food when you can have steak?

Or some such thing, anyway...

Cheap night tonight, I think. Bottle of wine and a movie with some mates. Sounds like fun.

later,
Chris...

Wiiiiiiiiiine!

2005-10-26T14:56:00.000-07:00

"Yeah.

too Much red wine.

It shows.

later,
Chrios...

At Heaven In Heaven

2005-10-25T09:27:00.000-07:00

Best. Night. Ever.

Seriously.

Ok, so there were parts of it that could come firmly under the 'new experience' heading: being hit on by guys is something I hadn't experienced before last night, but it's another thing to add to the 'been there' folder. The trick is not to take it as an insult - it's all complimentary after all, and that's how I decided to see it.

In fact, I guess the whole thing was a new experience. But it's one hell of an experience, and something I'd reccommend to anybody. Ok, maybe not anybody...homophobes would probably be best keeping clear, as would those who don't like cramped conditions and ridiculous heat. But hey - if you can handle it, do it!

The club itself is a major reason for why I had such a good time; it's just great fun. Absolutely brilliant. It's also painfully cool - and it knows it. Doesn't work to its detriment, though.

Of course, the company helped too. Having ditched my proposed companions - I decided I really couldn't handle a whole night or, indeed, a whole hour in their company (these aren't my flatmates, by the way) - I tagged along with someone from my drama course, and a couple of her friends. Meeting people is great, and oh-so-easy when they're as friendly and fun as that.

Embarassingly enough, I can't remember their names, but - to the three girls who accompanied me to Heaven last night: thank you!

This morning wasn't quite so much fun. Woken up at about 11:00 by a fire alarm, I then proceeded to lock myself out of my room twice. In one hour. I don't really remember a great deal more about today - it's been a pretty quiet one. The work I'd intended to do never happened, but with most people going to the theatre tonight, there may be a chance for it this evening.

If not, I'll just put it down to a heavenly comedown!

later,
Chris...

Heavenly Hedonism!

2005-10-24T09:46:00.000-07:00

So, another week, another NADS trip, this time to Heaven.

I gotta admit, this is a first for me, and despite all the assurances of it being a very open and welcoming place, I'm a little nervous about the idea of gay clubbing. Not that I think it'll be bad or unenjoyable - there's some cool people going from here, and I've never had a problem with the gay scene...just not entirely sure how I'm going to find it, personally!

However, I'm emboldened by the fact that all the people I'm going with - girls, admittedly - are straight and that if it does all get a bit too...overt...for my liking, I can seek refuge amongst them! And anyway - I'm going to be drunk before I even get there, so as long as I don't go into violent drunk mode (which I rarely, if ever, do) then it'll all be groovy.

Today's been a knackering day. Aside from the usual - half of my week's lectures/workshops/seminars are on a Monday - my alarm didn't go off this morning, and I was woken up 20 minutes before my first workshop started by Flic calling me from downstairs asking if I was going to get up? I've had better starts to the day. And better breakfasts than half a cup of water and a ginger biscuit.

Such annoyances were only compounded by the fact that said workshop was a 3-hour contemporary theatre one. Absolutely bollocks.

But hey - on the plus side, I've got days off on Tuesday and Thursday, and only two hours a piece for Wednesday and Friday. Can't complain, right?

Anyway, I shall let you all know how tonight goes at sometime. I'm hoping it's as much fun as I've been told. If not it's an experience, I guess!

Thought I'd leave you with a great photo from the shit night that was Insanity Hell - the pictures make it look so much better than it was.

later,
Chris...

Gagged

2005-10-23T04:47:00.000-07:00

I hate feeling gagged.

Right now, there's a lot of stuff I'd like to say regarding Contemporary Theatremaking, the 'blog' which we're supposed to use to document it, the nature of the company we're studying and yet more on top of that. I just feel like I can't, though. Primarily this is because of the very easy links that could be established between my damning comments on here and myself in class. I already hate this part of the course - don't want to make it harder for myself on top of that!

I'd dearly love to put up the url. I'd love for other people to see it. I'd love for it to get laughed at. But right now I just can't do it!

On a more positive note, though, I've managed to get my room looking respectable and in a good enough state to stand up to the ensuing room inspections. Of course, I do still have to lose the extension leads that currently litter the room, but that's something I'll be leaving until the last possible moment.

But anyway - I should get back to work. Anybody want to do this presentation for me?

No?

Damn.

later,
Chris...

Wino Forever!

2005-10-22T15:13:00.000-07:00

Wine makes everything seem better.

Fortunately enough, it seems I wasn't the only one feeling the depression of singledom (etc.) after the past couple of days. Indeed, every other member of our halls is feeling exactly the same. There's something pretty awful about being comforted by other people's misfortunes, but with all of us in the same boat, it makes coping with it a lot easier! Indeed, today's been characterised mainly by some pretty deep chats on the nature of it all. Great to have people on your level for once!

And when talk doesn't improve things, too much wine does. Which is what we've all had. It's great.

In fact, overall today's been a pretty good day. Beginning with no hangover - a real result after last night's excesses - it moved onto a greasy, and incredibly wonderful fried breakfast, and from there, to a trip into Windsor.

Retail therapy. It works.

later,
Chris...

Living For The Weekend

2005-10-21T08:25:00.000-07:00

Another week over with! It's so good to be able to get to 4:00pm on Friday and be able to say that. Of course, there are those who can say the same thing of a Thursday afternoon. Lucky bastards.

Not that I'm complaining, though. In fact, right now, all is fine and dandy. We're off to the union - Insanity Hell tonight, apparently - planning to get horribly drunk and I've got an extremely tempting bottle of Martini sitting just next to me. So, for less than the price of two campus beers, I'm going to get absolutely wasted. Which can't be bad.

Moreover, apart from a piffling little presentation on Monday, I have absolutely no work due for next week. Indeed, the only thing I'll need to be concerned about is hiding up my espresso maker and extension cord before room checks next week. I'm not especially impressed with the fact that they can just wander in and check our rooms almost on a whim, but hell - if that's the worst thing that happens next week, then I haven't really got much to complain about, have I?

Sure, I'm still a bit pissed off after last night, but life goes on. And so does drinking. And what could be more fun than spending an alcohol fuelled Friday night with your friends?

Nothing.

That's what.

later,
Chris...

What Is It With Irony?

2005-10-20T23:18:00.000-07:00

How come what is ostensibly a good night can be so incredibly shit?

Seriously - I've just come back from the pub, and it was - outwardly - great fun. Had a couple of drinks, played some pool, went with almost the whole crew (only Susie was missing, citing money difficulties. She's the sensible one, I guess), enjoyed it, decided upon going out properly and geting hammered tomorrow, and generally had a good end to what's been a fairly boring day.

So, how is it that when it's all going fine and dandy, something comes along and kneecaps you? Why couldn't someone I like be with some guy when I was having a shit night? Why not when everything's been bollocks anyway? Why (why the fuck?!) does it have to be on what's a night that I'm really enjoying?

Is this irony? Because if it is, I've got another name for irony. Wanna know what it is? "Assfuck". Yeah. Just tell me I'm not right.

later,
Chris...

(one little proviso - there's very little chance that I'll be updating this frequently in the future. I'm just pissed off right now.)

Me?

2005-10-20T12:28:00.000-07:00

Me. No anonymity here.

Rushing To Watch Your Spirit Fully Drop

2005-10-20T12:17:00.000-07:00

Having come to university and begun what is essentially a new life, I thought it might be time to rediscover my penchant for online musings and for inflicting my own views upon a largely unsuspecting and anonymous audience. The problem was that doing so in my livejournal just didn't appeal anymore. It's too rooted in school, Suffolk and all that came with it.

So, inspired by Contemporary Theatremaking - and believe me, this is the only way it's inspired me at all - I decided a blogspot was the way to go.

Anyway - about me. I'm Chris. Yeah. Hi.

I started uni at Royal Holloway nearly a month ago, taking a course in English and Drama/Theatre Studies. I live in a small, but none-too-awful ensuite, catered flat with 17 other people of whom 5 are really my core group of friends. 5 of us do Drama, either pure or joint with another subject, and the other does Management. We're all a bit nuts - who at university isn't? - drink too much - same point as previously - and took gap years. What does that tell you about us?

Absolutely fuck all. That's what.

I guess most people would've started this with a "welcome to my blogger..." style thing. Not me; I think that sort of thing's all bullshit. And besides, it isn't exactly interesting, is it? Surely you'd rather hear about my hatred of my current study of a really rather awful theatre company? No?

Ah well. Don't say I didn't offer.

But yeah, that's me. If you want expectations here, then just expect a bunch of irreverent and very infrequently updated crap. Can't let you down too much there, can I?

later,