I've never truly appreciated how much effort my father has put into building the brilliant house in which they live until recently. Upon reflection, I have a huge amount of affection and respect for him now for making our home so encompassing.
The student house is being re-done. Floors ripped up left, right and centre, and the over-whelming smell of woodchip. Not very homely. But the landlord needs to get it done to make the house last longer, so that next year's residents can enjoy it as much (or probably more) than we have, and he can continue to make money out of the house. But in the mean time, he's got four people paying him for nothing because our house is upside-down and doesnt feel like a home because weird little polish men are wandering around 24/7, drinking my tea, using my broom and making a heck of a lot of noise. (p.s. a new desire to stop swearing is what makes me speak so nicely of this current dilemma).
Refurbishing your home is a good metaphor for changing those things you don't like about yourself. There's no easy way, no quick fix that will ever be sustainable, and no shortcuts that won't bite you in the behind. You have to just rip up all the underlay, all the rotten floorboards and go straight down to the foundations; only when you can see the Earth beneath your feet, and you know that all you're stood on is mud and gravel and pure, natural stuff can you build again. You can't build yourself up when you're still broken. And in this process of finding your foundation, you'll probably find that more than one room has woodworm. Just rip it all up. If you don't do it all at once, it'll take longer next time. And this might take a lot longer than you'd planned, but those days of emptiness; of confusion, of feeling lost and like you don't know who you are or where you belong; those feelings are healthy, and help the process of rebuilding. Like I said, there isn't any shortcut to this process. But once you really feel like you're staring at the pureness that made Adam and Eve can you truly rebuild yourself and become a better person. You've just got to make sure you put things down in the right place, make those floors really sturdy and strong so that in a couple years, when you want a porch, or a conservatory, you're already half-way there.
[The moral of this story is not to always do things for right now. Do things that could help in 10 years. When they finally come into use, you'll be happier than you would be if you'd done it the day before. Invest in yourself. Try.]
Monday 17 January 2011
Teeny tiny whine
You know how people shamelessly plug their blogs / youtube sites / music etc all the time... I have never wanted to plug this. I don't know if I ever will, so I might never have more than three followers. But I'm alright with that. I don't want strangers knowing my inner thoughts! I don't want weird german people adding me. I'm quite happy with 3 followers. So when perusing a class member's 'website', on which he has videoblogs whinging about EVERYTHING, I think, shut up. Honestly, the boy is an arse, and he whines about 'haters', of whom he directly address one guy (nice, very smooth) and curses him for having an opinion. Then says "no one cares, cock sucker, and why does it matter if you have a PhD?" This statement made my blood boil.
1) He, the dumb fuck, sucks cock for fun, so it doesn't work as an insult.
2) Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, so when differences occur, one must accept to disagree.
3) This 'PhD' guy is not from the UK, so his videoblog is equally bizarre, but he appears to have just slated about 10 different famous things, one of which being Katy Perry. What on Earth did Katy Perry do to him, I dont know, but that's too far! So I guess what goes around comes around.
4) Lastly, the classmate thinks the PhD man is a twat, and doesn't understand why saying 'I have a PhD in maths' makes his argument any better - considering the fact that said 'classmate' has written his religious view as "I am an omnipotent god" and he constantly refers to his own Godliness, Awesomeness and general ruling of the Universe, yet hasn't even finished his degree yet. I'm just praying that even if I get 2:2, he gets a third, or better yet, FAILS.
In conclusion, I'm sick of people thinking they are self-righteous. By all means, tell me I'm wrong. Its healthy to debate something. It is not healthy to click 'delete' every time someone disagrees with you.
Rant over. Phew!
1) He, the dumb fuck, sucks cock for fun, so it doesn't work as an insult.
2) Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, so when differences occur, one must accept to disagree.
3) This 'PhD' guy is not from the UK, so his videoblog is equally bizarre, but he appears to have just slated about 10 different famous things, one of which being Katy Perry. What on Earth did Katy Perry do to him, I dont know, but that's too far! So I guess what goes around comes around.
4) Lastly, the classmate thinks the PhD man is a twat, and doesn't understand why saying 'I have a PhD in maths' makes his argument any better - considering the fact that said 'classmate' has written his religious view as "I am an omnipotent god" and he constantly refers to his own Godliness, Awesomeness and general ruling of the Universe, yet hasn't even finished his degree yet. I'm just praying that even if I get 2:2, he gets a third, or better yet, FAILS.
In conclusion, I'm sick of people thinking they are self-righteous. By all means, tell me I'm wrong. Its healthy to debate something. It is not healthy to click 'delete' every time someone disagrees with you.
Rant over. Phew!
Saturday 15 January 2011
Busy Dreaming..
The first of my dream blogs. I hope this will decrease the amount of times I say "I had a dream..." during the day. Anyway, last night's is a good one to start with...
It was similar to the hotel in which Barton Fink resides, but bigger, and Martin and I seemed to be living there. Needless to say, we had a weird neighbour. He liked to burst into the room and steal things, and we couldn't stop him. So he comes knocking, I tell him to fuck off but he forces his way in. Martin decides its time to go down to the bar, and leaves me with the creepy man. The man, who is approximately 20 stone, quite short but angry-looking, and SUPER gross gums, gets naked, and basically blackmails me to have sex with him. Its gross, I won't go into detail, and frankly I hope this memory falls out of my mind very soon. Plus, I have never seen a man that big with nothing on, so I'm sure my brain made a few things up. Anyway, after the disgustingness happens (during which I keep thinking 'I wish Martin hadn't left'), I realise there is a leak in the ceiling, dripping straight onto the bed. Gross man leaves, as he seems grossed out by the leak, and I start to re-arrange the room. (This is about the fourth dream I've had this week which involved cleaning. Its either a nervous habit, or its procrastination, or just a metaphysical form of worry). I'm moving the bed so it doesn't get dripped on, and I find a box of stuff I remember from my childhood - little toys, and a teddy, and some old bits of playmobile. I start to collect this stuff, as I want to give to it Louise, as a present for the baby. Then I find some clothes, specifically a t-shirt and some bikini bottoms that I was looking for a few days ago. Nice to know they are hidden in dream. Anyway, I go to find Martin in the bar, and he is watching what I think was an open-mic night, and Al and First Year Tom are singing on stage. Gross man comes over and demands more sex, so I set the bouncers on him. Like a SWAT team they all hone in, and the room goes silent, and Al is devastated that his singing has been interrupted by some perv. They take Gross Man away, and I get angry at Martin for leaving me with pervy man, as I'm pretty sure he was a virgin, despite his reference to his own box of 'kinky toys'.
Grim. Wasn't really a nightmare, as although it was disgusting, I was at no point actually frightened. My nightmares tend to be a lot more mentally chilling than physically. Again, grim. Hope the next dream is happier!
It was similar to the hotel in which Barton Fink resides, but bigger, and Martin and I seemed to be living there. Needless to say, we had a weird neighbour. He liked to burst into the room and steal things, and we couldn't stop him. So he comes knocking, I tell him to fuck off but he forces his way in. Martin decides its time to go down to the bar, and leaves me with the creepy man. The man, who is approximately 20 stone, quite short but angry-looking, and SUPER gross gums, gets naked, and basically blackmails me to have sex with him. Its gross, I won't go into detail, and frankly I hope this memory falls out of my mind very soon. Plus, I have never seen a man that big with nothing on, so I'm sure my brain made a few things up. Anyway, after the disgustingness happens (during which I keep thinking 'I wish Martin hadn't left'), I realise there is a leak in the ceiling, dripping straight onto the bed. Gross man leaves, as he seems grossed out by the leak, and I start to re-arrange the room. (This is about the fourth dream I've had this week which involved cleaning. Its either a nervous habit, or its procrastination, or just a metaphysical form of worry). I'm moving the bed so it doesn't get dripped on, and I find a box of stuff I remember from my childhood - little toys, and a teddy, and some old bits of playmobile. I start to collect this stuff, as I want to give to it Louise, as a present for the baby. Then I find some clothes, specifically a t-shirt and some bikini bottoms that I was looking for a few days ago. Nice to know they are hidden in dream. Anyway, I go to find Martin in the bar, and he is watching what I think was an open-mic night, and Al and First Year Tom are singing on stage. Gross man comes over and demands more sex, so I set the bouncers on him. Like a SWAT team they all hone in, and the room goes silent, and Al is devastated that his singing has been interrupted by some perv. They take Gross Man away, and I get angry at Martin for leaving me with pervy man, as I'm pretty sure he was a virgin, despite his reference to his own box of 'kinky toys'.
Grim. Wasn't really a nightmare, as although it was disgusting, I was at no point actually frightened. My nightmares tend to be a lot more mentally chilling than physically. Again, grim. Hope the next dream is happier!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)