Bluesy desires.

Alright on a less personal note; I have a strong and uncontrolable desire to play the blues. Not just randomly jam, but with someone, but alas, there is no one bar my father who seems interested. A father-son collabaration may be in order. I feel that I do not have the right guitar for it. A fender stratocaster will leave a nice bluesy feel and have a similar feel, but it'll lead to the inevitable Gilmour sound as there's no other way to play a Strat, for me anyway.

So I may end up buying a telecaster anyway...

Right, onto matters of news and such. Recently, the website Wikileaks revealed a damning intelligent report about NATO led actions in Afghanistan, which details civilian deaths, soldiers acting without orders and the seemingly assassin like nature of U.S special forces.

I understand the freedom of the press and I implore the idea of censorship. But surely there should be a line, where journalists don't go. Information is powerful, it can destroy governments. But when it puts our forces in danger, that's shakey ground. A number of people will belay that this demonstrates the pointless nature of the conflict in Afghanistan and yes the figures are deeply disturbing and condemn actions. But frankly, this should happen after the war. The figures in some of these documents show information which could be used against our own forces and thus endanger troops. I don't care if you think war is bad. These people are our soldiers. Death is bad, war is bad. But it's unstoppable.

Wikileaks is an idiot.

Ponderings of a madman.

It's twenty to one in the morning, and I'm sat with a bottle of gin listening to Stereophonics. Usually I'd call this a good evening but something in my head is different. (Also this blog is getting more personal each post...) I'm no alcoholic, nor am I some disgruntled forty year old but yet tonight I feel like one. Maybe it's the fact I haven't shaved in a while and the come-up after a depressed episode, but, well I don't know.

There's a number of things I can't explain about my thoughts or the way my head works, but I'd sure like to know it all. I know that ignorance is bliss, but this ignorance of myself is almost demeaning. I know it's who I am - but why? How? Am I doomed to not know all there is about myself?

All I do is look for the answer to myself, it's driving me to the point of extremes but maybe when I solve myself I can solve others.

Who knows, that's the joy of life. Never knowing.

Life, the universe and something.

What is a blog without a bit of sombre writing? After reading a blog post from a good friend of mine, I decided to stop drawing fungal parodies of famous figures and start pretending to care about people (That was a direct quote from House M.D - not an honest statement...I think). But, well I've been here for eighteen years. I've been to loads of places, met thousands of people, most of whom I will never ever see again, if I do it'll be only in passing. People bore me, I make no attempt to hide that. But sometimes I find people who interest me, people who are complex workings. I know everyone is unique, and complex - but we've assigned so many disorders, personality traits and functions to ourselves that everyone fits into categories. Some fit into a lot of categories. I've met people who don't fit into anything, they don't make sense at all. I try and figure them out but I can't, no labels for these people.

That's how I make friends. Well - after meeting them. I don't spy on people who interest me, otherwise I'd change my name to Orwell and write books. Of course, this isn't the only way I see people - we aren't objects to be examined in a lab, I'm no scientist.

My best friends don't fit into these categories. I could know all that there is to know about their personal lives and yet they still remain a mystery, there's no personality trait there which can be explained by something obvious. I hasten to add that I'm no sociopath, I make jokes about it but I do associate myself with others quite readily. I just don't like being exposed. I care for my friends but I'd be lying if I said I didn't examine them. I care for them, or try to, if they fall and amuse them when I can. Of course that's dependant on my various mood swings.

Being as - broken - as I feel like sometimes, my life has become dominated by my various illnesses, they dictate what courses I take, where I go and what jobs I do. It's taxing but it defines me. I hate having a defination, I hate being in a category but it's inevitable as I know everything there is to know about myself (except where my bloody pen has got too).

I could go days without speaking to people, I have done before. But in truth, it feels hollow. I couldn't live without my friends and family, and I appreciate them for putting up with me. A lot. All of those who mean something to me, you know who you are - you're the greatest (probably) people in the world. Wellington was cooler, though.
And Grouchy was an idiot.

First post

So I am writing this while wearing a fez and listening to Galvanize. That pretty much sums me up. Now, onto items of a blog related nature. This is the first of my personal blogs and due to my expert social skills and powers of empathy, expect it to be a kind and caring insight into modern life with a light hearted element and a showcase of my forays into contemporary dance.

Like that's going to happen. Although I will try and be funny. Funny, as in strange not 'haha' funny. In all truthfulness I probably linked you here through facebook or any other social media just so I could feel like my space on the internet was meaningful.

Anyway. For the last few weeks, life has been pretty..inactive. Been spending my time at the pub, writing my screenplay (which will be eventually finished, probably) going places and working. Not dull but not as excentric as I'd wanted, at least in my head anyway. I'm meeting with the cast and such tonight which should be interesting, that is if they are there for the script and not for the inevitable booze. Of which I will be trying to keep away from as it lowers my creative drive.

I couldn't have made that any more sexual.
It's sad that I could have, in reality.

Now, onto the news. What is a blog without satire, eh?
Because I'm so civilised, I read the Times/Sunday Times. (You can tell who I voted for; a mans paper defines who he votes for, i.e. the Daily Telegraphs' readership voted Tory and the Daily Stars' readers voted for Tits.) They've reported that the chairwoman of OFSTED claimed that "we need bad teachers". Yes, brilliant! Her reasoning - that the children need to know how to deal with people in authority who are not good at this.

That isn't a lesson. She must have been homeschooled. You give children a bad teacher, they become disillusioned and jump on the teacher like buzzards after a shooting in the Wild West. Kids go to school to learn subjects and not life lessons. Sure it gives them experience, but it also undermines any lesson they are taking.

And did she think of the teachers? "Okay, you're going to be this schools' bad teacher. Have fun". I don't think any teacher wants to be a bad one, it's not that kind of job. Call me naive but this chairwoman is an idiot.

I will now end every post by calling someone an idiot.