The End of the World

...Turns out to have been quite boring. After all that.

Of course, I thought due to everyone knowing he origin of the thought on the end of the world - being the Myans having a logical place to end the calendar and having no predictions what-so-ever - that nobody genuinely believed it was going to happen. Despite it leading to a load of people thinking they were clever by spouting this information every time it was mentioned.

Turns out there were a load of Mexicans, or something like that, who genuinely believed it. Gutted for them. Imagine actually believing it and it not happening - that'd be much worse than not believing and it happening, at least that doesn't come with embarrassment!

So congratulations for surviving another end of the world. See you at the next one!

Essays and E-sports.

     Good news: I'm nearly done with my essays! Which means I can get back to my writing one again, which will be awesome - obviously. I have around four new stories lined up for some good and fun writing styles and genres. And I'll be working through lots of my old writing trying to get my general standard of writing up to the level that I am now.

     Also, I'm quite enjoying the look at the rise in popularity of E-Sports (online gaming sporting events) which are usually based on tournament. I've been watching some of the League of Legends tournaments and, well, if you understand the game they are really exciting. It's 5 aside and loads of strategies can be involved. It's much more interesting to me that sitting and watching normal sports - and neither is any more useful than the other - it's entertainment nonetheless. So it's not like people can complain saying it's sad and nerdy. It's just chillin' at home and watching the game - it's exactly the same. :P

     I've been thinking of putting my mind to placing a few bets on these events see if I can make a couple of quid from it. Could be interesting. And it'll be nice to see more and more games get involved with e-sports events and it's definitely going to go up rather than down from here.

    Anyway, the writing I intend to do in future might be a little longer than my previous stuff. Mainly because I'm bored of pandering to shorter stuff because people won't read it. I want to write what I want to write and I want to do that good - no matter how long it takes. If you don't want to read it, then it's your loss - 'cause take it from me, it's awesome stuff.

    Thanks for reading the update and be sure to read some more of my work... :) Ciao!

Steel Panther and SB6.

  I haven't been posting much lately for a main reason - assignments. I've had so much work to do that I don't do much interesting and therefore have noting interesting to write on here. But this week I did do something mildly cool, so I figured I'd tell you about it. :)

  Basically, I went to two gigs in two nights. In Bristol. Travel costs are large, but you might as well enjoy yourself if the ticket is booked. So I crashed at a friend's place and spent most of my time wandering around Bristol.

  The first night, I went to see Sonic Boom Six. A Manchester based Ska/Punk band. It was in a small pub-like venue, you could basically touch the people on stage. There was a ska band supporting and mainly you got a drink and mingled with the people around the entire pub. The support act was actually kinda good - which is surprising as they all generally suck - and there was lots of movement and sweating involved. The Sonic Boom Six came on and everyone goes mental. There was loads of audience interaction and it was generally a fantastic gig. It was a really comfortable atmosphere and I don't think it lasted nearly long enough.

  The second gig was Steel Panther. A hair metal band with humorous lyrics. That was awesome, they did loads of talking and the lead guitarist (Satchel) and singer (Michael Starr) are hilarious. They made much more of an effort. Girls got on stage, guitarist did an epic solo, they played some fantastic songs that everyone knows the words too, made a few racist / sexist jokes. All in a days work. The strange thing about this gig though was the show put on was fantastic, but with the type of people that went were less my kind of people. They were awesome, but all the tall people stood in front of me and it was a lot less active. Bigger rooms are not quite as good.

  All in all, both shows were as good as each other. I had a laugh with some good friends, some of which I haven't seen for ages, and mainly was knackered. I was really glad I didn't do a third night. That would have killed me. I already busted my foot jumping to SB6's first song - how I made it through the pain was just adrenaline. :D

  All in all, best couple of nights I've had in quite a long time!

Creative Writing Excercise 2

Merging something I did in a lesson with my 'Solitude' story I wrote before, it came out like this:

Pacing is a common sign of madness. That being said, pace is what he does. In his room. Procrastination is a sign of being disorganised. Pacing is what he did to procrastinate. Spending so much solitary time is very ill advised.

He cannot leave the space. There is no need to get dressed. Pants all day long. Laziness brings no joy. Things to do, things to do. The only sound he gets is his own voice when he coughs or sneezes. And an occasional boom of the pacing feet; storage and back to get basic food or water.

The silence is lingering and horrid. If you listen to the silence close enough, you can hear the lack of hearing. A faint ringing that doesn't exist is the sound of a million little voices whispering words against him. The closer he listens, the quieter they get as if taunting his very marrow. What do they say? “They hate me, they hate me” The repetitive thoughts hang from the rope. Rhythm in line with repetitive rocking.

The pain of the stinging eyes becomes normal and the eyelids stay static for longer. Dishevelled is the hair on every part of his body and the sunlight beams through a hole in the roof. If anyone else is alive, they hate him as much as the ringing voices of nothing. The ringing, the ringing, the cringe and the sting.

The only thing missing is a distinct lack of smell in the rancid room of a jaded nose. He would count the days, if not for forgetting the existence of numbers.

What are they saying?

They hate me.

It's almost as if you can still feel him inside the place. Everything is left the way it was in the front room - jars of wilted flowers; television on static in the corner; dull-green peeling paint clinging to the smoke-stained walls. A small table sits cracked beside a worn armchair marking the only change in the room. A short rope hangs from a beam on the ceiling - coiled into a noose.

Thanks, view my other writing in the right hand column.

Creative Writing Exercises 1

Exercise: Write a paragraph describing a place and imagine that something has happened there. Do not say what the event is.

It's almost as if you can still feel him inside the place. Everything is left the way it was in the front room - jars of wilted flowers; television on static in the corner; dull-green peeling paint clinging to the smoke-stained walls. A small table sits cracked beside a worn armchair marking the only change in the room. A short rope hangs from a beam on the ceiling - coiled into a noose.

Exercise: Write a section of a story in a narrative voice. It can be the beginning, end or middle of a story. The story must have actually happened to you or someone else.

To tell the truth – I laughed when she fell. Probably a little too loud as well. It serves her right for wearing heels on a night out. I looked back up the club's steps and met the gaze of a bouncer. He seemed to also find the drunken girl amusing and made no attempt to help. We shared a look lacking so much emotion that it felt almost inhuman and I turned away. My gaze this time fell upon my mistress of the previous two hours. She had finished on the phone and proceeded to explain that her friends had gone off to a different club; naturally she was going to leave me to find them. Shame. So I got her number before she went and walked back up the steps towards the club. After all, my friends, whom I had lost, were still in there. I hoped.

The bouncer – Eastern European, I might add – held out his hand and stopped me going inside. My delayed and confused face must have looked a treat when I peered up to him with my exaggerated frown.

“Too drunk” said he, so matter-of-factly I wasn't sure how to disagree with him. The fact I did argue with him must have meant I obviously was too drunk – but that's besides the point! I tried to rattle off some spiel about totalitarian bastards being able to get into our heads and judge us. But that probably wouldn't have helped my point, even if I hadn't slurred and fumbled every word. Still, I continued to argue my point that my friends were inside; I had just been inside myself and that I'm hardly going to cause trouble.

“Look at me! I'm a weed! What am I going to do?” I said with my hands held up, presenting my less than impressive build. This, though, apparently didn't matter as it was still possible to start a fight. “But I'm a coward!” I shouted. Probably a little too loud as well. Though it did make them laugh. They let me in as well. Win!

• Thanks for reading. Use the tab on the right hand side to browse my previous writings.

Writing Issues and Successes.

A few points of writing progress:

1.    So inspiration has struck to a point that I want to write a few new works and even re-write my problematic older pieces to make them significantly better. While re-writing old works is an issue because what if a few years roll by and I wish to write them again? Oh well... I'm happy with my current style, so I'm going to do it anyway.
2.    I am comfortable with my current style of writing in that the editing process is thorough (unlike my blog posts.) Even if I like something I still rip it to pieces to make sure only the best actual writing gets through. Also, as for my content... darkness and realism is my favourite of my works.So expect something a little closer to the bone.
3.    I have one piece I'm currently writing which is proving to be one of the most difficult for two reasons. Firstly, It's completely based upon this world and dealing with real world things - including God. And also that to other people it will be seen and controversial, so I have to make sure the story stays exactly as planned. I can't really be bothered to deal with complaints from people who have misconstrued it or generally don't understand.
4.    I've started my first novel! It's good, it's interesting, it's... complicated. Very difficult to get what you want in something so long. And so I'm not worried about length, I just want the story to write itself and just get it done. It'll most likely be drafted three or four times before I'm happy with it anyway.

So yeah. That's my writing position at the moment. While I am not posting much up at the moment, I am writing things and at this point I'm more writing for the joy of writing and enjoying the process than for other people's entertainment. So you'll get to see it eventually - don't fret. (As if you were.)

But I am slightly caught in this little issue. The quote by J.S. Mill goes: 'It is better to be Socrates than a pig satisfied.' - This, translating to me, is a problem because I have things to tell the world, but I also want to purely entertain without a point. And well, doing both causes a lot of people to mis-understand a lot of your works when they try to make sense of it. So is it better to try to make a point and inspire, or let things lie and try to create happiness? I'm really unsure...

Feel free to talk to me at some point - I'd love to hear your opinions. Thank you.

University Year 2

So I'm back at university and it's been a little bit hectic. Considering I was very unprepared when I first turned up and forgot my way around the town to go shopping and things, I think I've settled quickly enough. The only thing I haven't settled yet (and wont be able to til around week 3) is my courses and modules. Now that I'm taking single-honours Philosophy, I have mainly philosophy lectures but I also have one psychology and one creative writing module - main problem with these being my lack of friends.

Yep. I have no friends in two of my moudle lectures. Which makes things awkward - considering even if I decide to make friends in them (which is likely) then I wont really have time to hang out with them with me being so distinct from their social circles. So I guess I focus on the work in those modules - yay.

What's good about the second year is living in a house. While there are many issues with the house, it is much quieter than living in halls and for second year will probably be beneficial for my work.

As there are no assignments in until around december I figure I'm able to play around with my writings and short stories a little more. But I need to get all of my main activities sorted to make sure I have time to live a little too - so again, give me a week or so.

My main idea at the moment is to go back to a couple of my older pieces of writing which I think I could improve and re-write them. The idea of this is to make sure there isn't a stand-alone weak link in my writing portfolio and after I've done this I'll be looking towards making some money / getting published in magazines, wish me luck.

Also, if anyone would like any help with and form of writing thing, I'm more than happy to help - as it's useful to me also. Contact me using any of the surrounding links. Awesomes.

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

Because I have started university again as well, I will be able to post more philosophical stuff on here. Which is cool for me.

Please give as much feedback on any of my work as possible. It really helps with what to do in the future and for me to improve / find out what I enjoy.

I've noticed a lot of people who read stuff on here or on other websites of mine and talk to me about it in person and stuff, but even if you send it in a private message -I would very much appreciate more comments and feedback-

That's all from my mini update on moving back to university. Thanks for reading.

Mimi Says

      Mimi stands in the doorway at night. She knocks three times in the silhouette bright. My mum is unaware and Mimi says this is good. She compliments my hair and tells me I'm rare and I believe Mimi, she's good. Mimi wears a plain white mask with big red curls and rosy red cheeks. She speaks quietly and calm wearing the innocent smile of the meek, and at this point she's visited me for weeks.

     Mimi says I should be her friend. And I do want to be her friend, saying that our friendship should never end. She's asking for proof. Proof that I am her friend by giving me tasks to perform, offerings of food, like bread or fruit or corn. The food must be simple, she says. No food from a lady, as that would be crazy. Women are the precious and taking their food is malicious. I now avoid milk and eggs or meat made from cow's legs.

      Mimi says I should wear white in bed. She says I should do this to accentuate the red. So I do. She says I should wear white gowns and never carry frowns so that I can look like her from toe to paw, every time I open that door. That way, when she knocks, I can look like her. “White and pure with a face of allure.” My feet as bare as hers and our hips both jut. When I grow, I shall keep my figure and never indulge in smut.

      Mimi says I should buy her a flower with thorns on it. Thorny flowers are the best because they can protect themselves. They smell to attract only certain things and avoid others. They are completely in control of their life.

      Mimi says flowers prove my friendship and that friends do things for each other. Mimi says I should not eat sweets and tell this to my mummy. Sweets use energy much needed for making babies and they turn boys into rapists with rabies. My mummy should know of the habits I intend to end and she still thinks I have an imaginary friend.

      Mimi says I should avoid boys at school to protect my womb. Avoid dark alleys where they might loom. Mimi says my womb is special and the white gown, once a month, should show off my red. She says it's because of my hair being red, and because my hair is curly shows why I'm special to have it so early. The other girls are not deserving. Not of my friendship, they are all immature bullies and meanies. They're not like my good friend Mimi.

      Mimi says she needs to know about my mummy. Mimi says I should tell her everything into her core. Whether she's had any more children or has ever been a whore. Whether her hair is dark as a midnight shore. Whether her conversations are a bore and everything more. She's happy with my answers and hates that mummy wears fur. She says it's horrid and that I should avoid her.

      Mimi says my mummy is special for having made me and no other. If she had she would not be a special mother. For all I am worth she should have no more girls. None to take over me with my shiny red curls.

      Mimi says I should not talk to my mum, to ignore her and keep up an act. She says I should not care how her days went and that I should avoid eye contact. She says that my mum thinks she knows best and will try to influence my life. But Mimi says she drinks alcohol and couldn't make a good wife.

      Mimi says I shouldn't let anyone influence my life and I should fulfil my greatest potentials on my own. I like Mimi. When she's with me I trust her the most. She is my friend and I'm happy to boast. Mimi says Lauren from school is selfish and is trying to hold me back. Mimi says to see the truth in people is what she has as a knack and that Lauren's friendship is something I should lack.

      Mimi says when I grow up, my breasts will be small like hers. She says this is good as it is modest and that's something I deserve. Mimi let me touch her breasts so I could imagine mine. She says it's not a problem and that to feel like I do is fine.

      Mimi says I should kill a creature and keep it as my proudest feature. She says I should catch a male and preferably something with a tail. Mimi says that I should burn the filthy animal which turned out to be a rat; I squished the rat very flat. So with a box of matches I made the rat a cinder and from inside something hatches because it went “POP”. And all this liquid just wouldn't stop. I took a hammer and nailed him on my bedroom wall. Mimi says this should make me feel womanly and powerful and really very tall.

      Mimi says I should not feel bad and that what I am doing is good. I tell Mimi I do feel bad and she said she understood. But Mimi says she likes me and I like her too. And that she wouldn't like me if she told me and I did not do. So I feel less bad and Mimi isn't mad. Everyone's happy.

      Mimi says she wants a knife. I should find one soon. For her and for myself to use and protect my life. She says it should be sharp and that I should sharpen it more. I need to show Mimi the knife and hide it away. What happens next she wouldn't yet say and yet I have an idea. I get Mimi, I like Mimi. She's been my friend for a year.

      Mimi says I should use the knife tonight. She knocked on my door pale in the moonlight and told me it is fine. She walked into my house for the very first time and told me to use the knife. She walked with my upstairs, slowly but sure and we both stopped, standing at the bedroom door. Mimi didn't look at me, but I looked at her. The door swung open, the room lined with fur and empty glasses of wine and Mimi whispered that it's time.

      Mimi prepared me for this little act and that I was special was just a fact but I couldn't risk my mummy ruining that. So her bed was there and I stood with my eyes shut; then I plunged the knife right into her gut. She woke with a startle and I told her everything will be okay. Her eyes were full of shock and she wasn't okay. On my feet I rocked and I brushed my blood-soaked hand through her hair, telling her to shush – twisting the knife with an extra push. I smiled up at her and she didn't make a sound, but she struggled and gargled until she was a weight on the ground.

      When I turned around. Mimi couldn't be found, she was gone from the room and not on the stairs. I walked with my gown covered with thick wet hairs and oozing, dripping down my head was the red. Mimi stood in the doorway with her mask so big. I waited for her to tell me what I did and she pointed to me, pointed to my belly. I nodded, knowing what to do but my legs went to jelly. I was a special girl with red curls and I was more than this.

      I turned the knife inside my hand and stabbed myself where I stand and pangs of pain were met with pleasure as I felt the blood pour out of me with no regrets because Mimi said. Mimi smiles in the doorway dimly lit by the shadow and moon. I like Mimi, Mimi is by friend. Everything will be okay soon and I lull my feint head. Everything will be okay because Mimi said.

Maiden of the Sea

     To see such a creature right before my eyes filled me with so many feelings. A feeling of shock, of worry and of awe. The gleam of that, who some would name a beast, reflected the sun to look as if to glow. A sight to behold that I'll never forget.

     I never wanted to lose the sight of it. Yet, I never wanted it to catch sight of me. That was the feeling of fear. Fear of what it might do; fear that it may leave and never come back.

* * *

     October 12^th, 1814. My sixteenth birthday. I had woken up to a still dark sky. The earliest a morning could be, to me. My uncle was visiting my mother and I at our bungalow by the sea and he had promised to take me beachcombing.

     When he'd first mentioned beachcombing, I'd never understood it. Then he told me of many jobs that involved beachcombing, and I remember laughing so very hard at the term 'winkle-picker'. But I was only a little boy. He said when I was sixteen he would take me out beachcombing with him – as was his hobby – and suddenly, I became obsessed with the idea.

     I loved the sea. I loved the beach. To live so close was something I adored. But I stuck to a promise and never became a 'beachcomber' until my uncle showed me how. Not that I thought there was much to show. My mother agreed, however, that I shouldn't be going to down to the beach alone until I was of a more reasonable age. As a result, I spent most of my time helping my mum with house work and and visiting my friends during these summer holidays.

     When the time finally came round to it, I had my waders ready and bought a pair of gloves that I didn't wear until I needed them. A thick jumper was needed as it was cold before the sun came up. A bag for my findings. All other tools were carried by my uncle, consisting of a shovel a trowel and a rake. I looked at myself in the mirror with my rake, tall boots, jumper and straggly hair. My mother wasn't awake yet, but if she were, she'd have told me I looked just like my late father.

     The reason beachcombing was so important to my uncle was very much unknown to me. I had never realised the difference between fifteen and sixteen. But I trusted him enough, having looked after me and my mum for so many years after my dad passed away. Now it was almost like he was accepting me as an adult. So with bags and pockets-a-plenty, we left the house to the greyish blue sky of pre-sun mornings.

     It was barely ten minutes later to walk around the cliff edge and find our way down to the beach way. We were upwind for most of the journey to smell to strong sea breeze. Our beach was not as fine sand as they have on other beaches, but fine enough for rocks and pebbles to be scattered at distances. I stopped at the edge of the beach, looked up at my uncle and smiled. Speaking above the roar of the sea, he smiled back, wishing me a happy birthday.

     We watched the ground. Looking for something shiny was the best, but anything interesting could be picked up. We made our way systematically across the beach to the edge of the sea and even waded in a little. It wasn't the nicest of days, clouds were heavy but with no threat of rain. My Uncle got out a comb and started scratching the sea with it. I laughed a lot at how silly he looked.

     “What's with you, dear boy? Never seen a man combing the beach before?” He said as dryly as he could and we both shared the moment of laughter. At the time I had thought nothing of it, but out the corner of my eye, what looked like someone popping out of the water caught my attention.

     “Found something, have we?” My uncle asked.

     “Thought I saw something in the water, is all.” Was my reply.

     “Ah, they do have seals around here, my boy. Probably wondering what all the noise was on this morning.” He said as he got up to keep searching.

     I had found a few really nice shells and some drift wood. A vague fishy smell lingered and the tide must have been going out from the darker sand near the shore. We had gotten to a protrusion in the rock of a cliff when there was a little area of sand around the side. Something really made me want to go around there out of pure curiosity.

     “Where are you off?” My uncle exclaimed as I began to wander away from him. I turned.

     “There's a bit around this cliff I would like to search. I don't think I will be long.” I said, as if asking for permission.

     “Well, I wont be able to climb around that, my boy. But I'll be here when you're back. Wouldn't want to stray too far apart.”

     “Okay, thanks.” I smiled and ran to the edge of the rock, climbing round a few pieces that otherwise meant wading into the water up to my chest. After it shallowed I jumped into the sea and found the other bit of land. Then I heard a feather-light humming and peeked around the last piece of rock. There was an alcove beach of richer sand than before and I saw her.

     To see such a creature right before my eyes filled me with so many feelings. A feeling of shock, of worry and of awe. The gleam of she, who some would name a beast, reflected the sun to make her look as if to glow. Simply, she was beautiful.

      I never wanted to lose the sight of her. Yet, I never wanted her to catch sight of me. That was the feeling of fear. Fear of what she might do; fear that she may leave and never come back. She sat, on a rock combing her hair of a tangled mess. And oh what an abundance of hair! It was truly a sight to behold that defied explanation. Her peach coloured skin contrasted against her scaled tail that balanced her around a rock. Flecks of gold, blue, green and silver could be seen to mix a fantastic colour and her voice was soft.

     The shouting waves and cawing gulls seemed to fade into silence. She didn't draw me towards her, but I could not take my eyes away. I had never known these creatures were to exist. Suddenly, she jolted upright and sniffed the air as if she'd caught a scent and her eyes reflected every ounce of fear she owned. Immediately, I thought she had smelt me. I panicked and ran back, I ran around the cliffs splashing cloves of seawater into my mouth and almost tripping on a sea-weed that kept upon my foot. My uncle looked so surprised as my apparent worry spread through him.

     “What is it, what?” He shouted as he took my shoulder in his hand trying to steady me and my darting gaze.

     “I saw this wonderful, thing, uncle. It had a tail and I think it saw me watching it and... and...” As I was saying this I saw my uncle relax and I knew he had no idea. I would not be able to make him believe what I saw as I could not explain it. Something made me keep what I had seen to myself.

     “Boy, seals are nothing to be worried about. They could give you a nasty bite but keeping your distance is wise at any cost. Really gave me a fright, you did!” My uncle tried to calm me. We carried on roaming the sand for another hour with this wonder lingering in my head. My uncle tried to explain to me why he was so worried about me going off on my own.

     “How old were you when your father passed away? Do you remember anything of him?” He asked me. Of which I was only four so had no true memory. “On the day he went missing, he went off to the beach on his own. Wouldn’t tell anyone why, but it was often he decided to go on his own. One day, like in some fairy tale, he never returned.”

     I hadn't said much in reply, but I had never heard this story before. I wondered if what I had seen was the same thing that took my dad, and if searching for something of my father's was why my uncle beachcombed. I was crossed between allure and fear. Walking back into the warmth of home, I hadn't realised how cold I was. After a meal with my mother - that she had specially scraped the money together for - a few games and smiles from people at the local village followed; then I went to bed. With a present in my mind the likes I couldn't have dreamed.

* * *

     Despite a yearning to re-visit her as soon as possible, my uncle didn't leave town again for another three days. I knew he wouldn't let me go alone. So I waited and spent my time with him while we was here. He was riding to Bristol docks eventually, so wouldn't be back again for a long time.

     Going against his wishes did make me feel bad but, as soon as he left, I went down to the beach. I told my mother that I was going to see some friends in the village and she gave me the usual worried look that she gives whenever I leave home on my own. Times were dangerous, but living so far out of town felt safer than roaming streets at night. Either way, I went out to the beach to find this woman of the sea and after an hour of searching one side of the beach to the other, she was no longer there. I slumped down to the sand in dismay. Of course she wasn't there. Was I expecting her to sit on the rock forever and always be there when I went back? It was a ridicules idea.

     Shifting over to move something uncomfortable from under my bum, I pulled a comb from the ground. It looked just like my uncles comb that we laughed about. I figured he must have dropped it, so I put it in my pocket and went home.

     It wasn't until I was nearly home and fingering the comb in my pocket that what I had seen sprang to my memory. My uncle had mistaken what I had seen for a seal, but what if it wasn't? What if that was the maiden just then? She must have known we were there. I figured maybe she heard our laughter and come to see what the noise was. I decided there was enough light time left for me to get back down to the beach so I ran to my heart's content in the hope that I could see this creature once again, though not without fear that it might see me. I had no choice.

     I found the spot where we were. I shouted, laughed and thumped as loud as I could and generally caused a disturbance among the sand, kicking up all kinda of smells; covering my boots in wet sand. When I didn't see anything popping up, I realised I should head back before it got dark. Just as I turned around, I dropped the comb I was twiddling and it made a minor splash amongst the incoming tide.

     Bending down to pick up the comb, I saw something move in the corner of my eye, though before I could double take, nothing could be seen. I stayed staring a little longer to no prevail and needed to return home. It was only then when I considered that combing the water might have been the link.

     I decided to leave as it didn't seem like I had much of a chance of seeing anything. But it was as I was walking past another indent in the rock that I heard the beautiful humming. And peering around the corner, her skin gleamed as much as her tail did. This time I really looked at her and, again, it is nothing I can explain to look at. From her nose to her breasts to just below the navel looked so much like the most wonderful human and yet, the tail that clearly held so much power lingered on her lower half.

     I can honestly say at this point that despite the nakedness, there was not a drop of lust. I just wanted to be around her. To look at her. To meet her. After a little too much after dark, I got home though the window and pretended I had come home sooner without my mother noticing.

* * *

     To make myself feel better about lying, and without giving the reasons why, I worried my mother by telling her I was going to the beach. Considering what I had seen on the previous day, I didn't think it would be worth my not trying at least a second, or third time. So I picked the most tattered looking comb from the bathroom. One that almost look like it was designed to have needless spines, so it didn't matter that it was missing or lost. Then I headed to the beach.

     This time, I seemed to care less if it saw me, I don't know why but I seemed to trust it. And so I didn't want to miss it's initial bump in the water. I sat directly at the edge of the tide, holding the ruined comb. Dipping it into the water, I combed the tiny waves three times and stared out to as much horizon as possible.

     What splashed up out of the waves was definitely not shy as a whip of jet black hair sprouted a fountain of water into the air that took a while to settle. Even from so far out I could feel it staring directly into me. The eyes covered darker than the hair on it's head and made a direct contrast from how bone white it's skin was. This thing was much thinner and definitely not the same creature I had seen twice before.

     What startled me more was the sharp teeth that darted my way, the speed it seemed to be swimming out-distanced any fish and before I knew it, it was ascending out of the waves covered in spines both pale and dark jutting from her shoulders and spread down her spine. Her fingers were webbed and tail was as dark as her hair. She used her arms to crawl out of the water which slowed her significantly. I was stuck, frozen on the spot, in absolute fear into the depths of my marrow. I had no idea what this thing was or what I had done.

     She loomed over towards me, span from head to tail must have reached eight feet as her size was overwhelming for something so bony and thin. Her chin was extended to fit her needle sharp teeth. As she got closer I could do nothing but stare into the endless black eyes of hers. She grabbed my foot and dragged me underneath her and unhinged her mouth to make somewhere in between a screech and a hiss. She looked as if to take a maul of flesh out of my face. I stared into the mawing abyss.

     What felt most strange was that beyond the stench of fish was her natural smell that was not at all unpleasant.

     Mouth agape I could see so close the cilia lining her mouth, a slimy drip slid from chin to nose, proceeding to drip onto my face and reflex shut my eyes tight. The next thing I knew was a thump above me and I felt less enclosed. Looking over, there was the maiden I had intended to find pinning this creature to the ground with one hand and the other scratching away. The screeching was sure to be heard for a long distance as they fought on the sand. Blows were shared, and the creature seemed to have the upper hand on the maiden. Using her spines as defence and to stick into the maiden with her shoulder impacting in her ribs. She spat a kind of black ink into her pretty face and begun to extend her jaw again.

     The maiden reached out a hand and tore at the creature's lower jaw, making it hang – fully dislocated. Stunned, the pale and black creature was overwhelmed by the tail of the maiden that slammed her onto the ground. The maiden leapt up with surprising speed across the sand over to me.

     I could not move, still, out of confusion and fear. The maiden was halted, dead in the sand, by the pale skinned creature digging it's sharp tipped fingers deep into the middle of her tail, tearing out a deep bloody mess. The maiden used the strength of her tail to retaliate and seemingly break something in the creature's torso enough to make her flee.

     Grabbing the spiked comb from my grasp, that had dug into my hand enough to draw blood.

     “Where did you get this?!” she hissed at me. Too frightened to speak I shook my head vigorously as if an acceptable answer. She paused, looking deep into my eyes, down my nose, to my mouth and chin. She looked as though she recognised me. She swept her hair to one side, revealing a medallion she was using as a piece of jewellery and placed it in my hand, closing my fingers around it.

     “This belongs to you. Never comb the sea again, understand? I might not be around next time if you call the wrong of us.” She calmed her voice. Her accent was implacable, soft and nice to hear as if she spoke with emphasis from the back of the throat.

     “W... What are y... you?” I blubbered, feeling as if I wasn't inside my own body but a spectator for the whole event.

     “That's a rude question, human boy.” She grinned a wide grin, losing some humanity. “You're just like your father was. We are mermaids as you are human.”

     “M... My father?” I struggled to ask.

     “Do you have my comb?” was the only reply. Harsh, but beautiful. Feeling all my pockets, in the back pocket I found I did have the comb from the previous day still there. I must have sat on it while calling the other mermaid and summoned both. I handed it towards her, my hand still trembling. She took it carefully and eyed me intently.

     “Thank you. For this, I shall grant you one wish. But then I must tend to my wound, and you shall never see me again.” she paused and waited for my quivering mess to think about what had been offered.

     “W.. Well then I wish to see you again. Once a year, I wish to hear your song.” I said. She looked at me for a few seconds as if considering this. She looked me in the eye and nodded once. Pressing my forehead with her lips, she kissed life into my wish.

     “Brave wish for such a cowardly being. You shall not see me, though you will hear my song on this day once a year. Pick up this shell and hold it to your ear, for at this action, you and only you will hear my voice.” With that, she proceeded to lift a shell from the sand, spiralling and pink, holding it to her mouth she sung loud and true for over an hour. This time had calmed me significantly. “Now avoid the sea for a long while, human boy. A summoned Mermaid can lurk at the shores for days.”

     Before I could say anything, she handed me the shell and turned, dragging her weakened tail into the sea with her. The blood did not mix with the water but the cut seemed to disappear instantly. I looked at the shell and slowly dragged myself home.

* * *

      Walking through the door, which felt more welcoming than ever before, I was greeted by my mother as white as a sheet. Seeming like she'd seen a spectre of some kind, I noticed her eyes beaming at the medallion I had worn all of the way home. I told her I had found it on the beach and she told me more about my father. I listened carefully and she shed a tear, holding the medallion to her heart. She peered towards my hands where I was cradling the shell.

     “What's that?” She quizzed, casually. I held it up.

     “Just something I wanted to keep.” I lied “Nothing special.”

     Shooting her a grin of sentiment. I put my arm around my mother as we sat.

New PC!

I got a new computer yesterday. After almost 6 months of on/off computer issues, I'm oh so glad to feel a speedy computer. It's all set up and ready to serve me a good few years of work, games and writing.

This in mind. Most of my reasons to no write seem to have gone out the window now, meaning that I will be able to finish off some new pieces. Woo! Got a couple of fantasies and horrors in the pipeline.

On top of this, I have managed my course at Uni and am now, officially, a full time Philosophy student. I am still doing a bit of psychology next year, but to no important level and it isn't part of my final degree.

So I'd also like to get back into the philosophy stuff so my mind doesn't rust over by the end of summer. Might post something up here of new philosophy things that come from my mind. :P

Other than this, there is not much else to report. Happy reading!

New Short Story - A Keyring Memory

 A Keyring Memory

     I saw this girl once. I saw her while she was working at the local food shop. She turned out to be a bit of an enigma for myself. She turned out to be quite significant to myself. And I saw her first.

     I was doing my weekly shop, which this week happened to be placed on a Sunday, and I had done my usual trick of eating before I came out to make sure I didn't buy as much stuff. I walked around that zigzagging rope for queuing that is never full and I took my place at the self service check outs. As I was walking there was when I spotted her, and at the time I can't say I thought much more than 'Ohh, you're fairly attractive.' like you think with every eighteenth person on the street. I beeped all my shopping through to the bags, carefully distributing the weight.

     I always had a problem with the security guard here, too. No matter how innocent I genuinely am and try to be, he always seems to walk around an aisle as if he doesn't trust me. So I look around to see whether the idiot is going to rugby tackle me to the ground over some Jelly Beans and I accidentally made eye contact with the girl. Twice. Now, I know I'm not the only one that when this happens automatically thinks 'she wants me', even though you know it's unlikely, and that is exactly what I thought.

     At that point was when I started to think about her, with her long straight black hair; dark eyes from the deepest mascara and pale complexion; tipped off with a red T-shirt and black trousers supplied by work. She was petite and while not the most obvious of beauty, there was something about her that I kind of liked.

     Then I left the shop. Stupidly enough, I was aware that not making my own opportunities meant I would get nowhere with anybody. But I wasn't going to speak to her. Of course not. She was nothing special that would make me step out of my comfort zone. Just an attractive girl.

     She very quickly left my mind, the first time, and returned at the next visit. I was hoping she would be there before I even entered. The reason, I can not tell you. Perhaps I just like to be around pretty girls. She was not there, none-the-less.

     It must have been two weeks before I saw her there again on a Wednesday, stacking shelves. Needless to say, I skipped that aisle completely in the vain hope of not wanting her to see me, and again, I cannot tell you why. There was such an irrationality in my mind that it makes no sense even now. I saw plenty of people about my day, and she meant nothing to me, yet when I was there I was constantly aware of her presence.

     * * *

     Another week goes by of complete absence from the shop before she is there again, standing at the self-service. I was only on a short trip this time to buy a bottle of rum for a 'lads night in' that evening.

     As I stepped up to my position at the payment point I turned to realise she was stood right in front of the bottle I was going for. I reached out my hand to suggest I wanted something there and I smiled at her. She gave me a half glance with a false-smile as she stepped out of the way. As I was paying, to be sure, I did notice my boyish smile as she walked over to ID me. Her fingers brushed mine. It was at that point, I realised there was something extra about this girl. Almost as if she passed some emotional thing to me via contact.

     Flowing thoughts of this girl on the way back to my flat was overtaken by thoughts of take-away Pizza for lunch. Because, aside from our sporadic glances over weeks – I still had a life to live with more important things to worry about.

      I did wonder, though, what that girl would look like in her normal clothes; what type of person she was. I will admit, I wondered about her a little too much seeing as I didn't know her in the slightest. However, she must have noticed me, too, apparently.

      Only a few days later I saw her again over a DVD rack in town. I contemplated talking to her; trying to spark a conversation, but, deep down, I knew there was no chance I would just talk to a random person. I didn't want her thinking I was a weirdo or something. So instead, when she looked in my direction, I just looked away.

      After she left, I walked round to where she was standing and saw she was looking at horror movies. My opinion of her went up, though I couldn't help think my usual tactic of using horror as an excuse to cuddle wouldn't work. Not that I thought mattered.

     Then things got a little more interesting.

     The bus I was on stopped. She walks on. She pays the driver and walks up to the back; two spaces away from me. Three guys followed her in that I barely noticed and before I knew it, we had eye contact.

     I smiled at her, wondering if she would give anything back - if she had noticed me.

     “Stop staring at me, and leave me alone.” she said in a harsh voice, yet almost in a sigh.

     “What?” I couldn't help but burst out, out of shock more than anything else.

     “I swear you're following me or something, I've seen you an increasing amount lately. And whatever you want, I'm not really interested. Okay?” she spat aloud, as I noticed the other passengers on the bus deliberately not looking back. I played as innocent as I was.
     “Woah, I was just trying to be nice!”

     “Nice? What by being creepy and staring at me, look, you don't know who I am – so I suggest you ignore me from now on.” She had calmed down at this point. I went to speak, but nothing would come out; my mouth hung slightly open and I obviously looked appalled and offended. She didn't seem to care. “Just go search for your bitch elsewhere.” That was an assumption I didn't like. She got up and walked over to the three guys, sitting a space away from them.

      She wore jeans that were tight around the arse and loose around the ankles, with a black T-shirt with some pink print. Her face was as pristine as I had always seen her in the shop, I couldn't put my finger on it, but she was with these lads who looked kind of like drug dealers. One of them with a buzz cut and an earring, wearing bright clothes, looked back at me, grinning and mauling his chewing-gum.

     I looked away as I had just been publicly falsely accused – which, in a way, I had been. For some reason, I was too curious to let things go, and her choice of words suggested she didn't really know what I wanted. Perhaps she was hiding something. I figured if I was in for a penny I was in for a pound.

* * *

     There are some boyish feelings that never go away. Things such as wanting what you can't have. I decided that it wasn't that I wanted this girl, it was more that I wanted to prove a point or just accept the challenge. Plainly to me, she was a difficult person, and I wasn't going to back off unless she gave me absolute reason.
      I re-visited the Tesco's every few days until I saw her working there on the Saturday. That was when the blanking started. I'm not sure if she saw, because I was too busy blanking her, but I made sure to seem too natural and therefore unnatural. I skipped the next week, so the other staff members didn't think I was odd. Then luck struck the next time as I blanked her, again. Just to emphasise the point. At the third time, I was sure she must have noticed me there. This time around I blanked her differently. I kept her in the corner of my eye, and when she was looking in my direction I swung my head to make eye contact and winked at her, before going back to blanking.

     This was a bold move, I am well aware. But what did I have to lose? She already seemed to hate my guts and I was naively going to take on anything.

     The rest of my life carried on as normal. I wasn't obsessive, but as I said, there was something about that girl. But seeing as there wasn't any girl in the world I was interested in, my playing it cool didn't last too long before I decided to have a bit of fun.

     The next time I saw her, I walked right up to her. Basket of shopping in hand. And I smiled. Her being at work, she couldn't do much to get me to shoo, so she quietly glared at me and said “Can I help you?”

     “Ohh, I was just wondering if you'd like to go for a drink.” I said confidently, expecting some vile spat in return about how she would get someone to beat me up if I didn't go away. Instead, she just rolled her eyes.

     “Okay.” She said, soft and casually. There wasn't a hint of chill in her words, and that confused me.

     “Tomorrow at seven? The King's Arms?” I said, out of shock. Confused expression riddling my face. Did she even remember I was that guy from the bus?

     “I finish work at six, so I'll be there at eight.”

     “Deal.” I said, as I walked on, almost forgetting to pay for my shopping.

     * * *

     It wasn't until she was back in my flat after six or seven drinks that I really thought about what was happening, albeit an overly tipsy realisation. This girl of whom I held round the waist until she was sat down and I offered her more drink, was the same girl that I had a fleeting, and careless, thought about in a food shop. It hadn't occurred to me before, that I might have been courting her for completely the wrong reasons.

     That being said, I'd had a brilliant night with this girl who all of a sudden was completely different towards me. She seemed so fun. I ignore the cliché of what people have in common – it's dislikes that is important, and we absolutely disliked the same stuff.

     After plenty of slurred conversation and tickling comments, we drew closer and then a bit of intimacy began to flow. This was the last thing I had expected at the start of the night and almost still was. I just ignored it, and went with her flow.

     Normally, I'm not the kind of person to sleep with someone so quickly. Though a mix of shocking enjoyment, not wanting to offend and absolute boyish lust drew over me until our clothes covered more floor than could be seen.

     I lost myself in the moment, and just before anything significant had happened, I felt her recoil.

     “I should probably warn you, before we do this. I do have a boyfriend.”

     The words, I later realised, were possibly the most worrying words that this girl could have said, and yet only caused a brief pause in my drunken and lustful state. Upon reflection, I should have made the link between the drug addled scum on the bus and the sores and fading bruses around her back, waist and shins. But in my mind, I assumed she meant 'but let's carry on anyway'. And that, I did.

     In the morning, there was nothing strange, just a casual getting dressed, a swift cup of tea and arrangements from her to leave. She explains to me that, “I had a lovely time,” she paused with a shy smile “It was great to have someone so caring.” I was expecting something more, before I realised the implications of what she was saying about her boyfriend.

     “Can I get your number, or something?” I asked in a vain hope, having already anticipated the answer. I knew I was unlikely to even speak to her again. “I don't think it's a good idea. I'd love to keep you as a memory though.” she added, as if trying to offer me something out of the experience. She knew I knew.

     There was a hug before she left. But then she was gone. The only time I ever knew anything of her after that was the knowledge that she no longer worked where I shopped, and that she had broken up with her boyfriend, somehow. What had happened to her around that, I have no idea. But perhaps I played a part in her life too.

     For me, though, for such a small and simple thing. I had learned so many things. That the people you oggle in the street have stories. And while there are other more important stories of my own life, I don't know how much more honest I could have been about this particular event.

     An important keyring to the keys of my life, my mind; my being.

Peter Killigrew. Pirate and Post Office worker.

Ahoy there folks!
I be Peter Killigrew,

Bosun o' the Buccaneer!

But I wont be killin' you,

So 'ave no qualms or fear.

But I might just well give lashes to ya,

If ye be steppin' out o' line.

I be ever so sorry if I hurt ya,

It's a duty I must do,

Like bein' a bunting tosser,

Or shouting at the crew.

Me Captain's nicknamed 'Calico',

'E be a mighty fine chap!

Though I do think that Anne Bonnie, might

'A given him the clap.

He doesn't go much for girls, no more,

You see – but it's not me place to pry.

He just gives orders to myself, and is

A generally decent gay... um

*Cough* ...I mean guy.

Wait! I ain't yet told you of me pride and joy!

When I ain't a sailin' pirate, I drop all the 'ahoy'.

In me double life, I own a post office. Ya see?

I can be sendin' mail from Peru to Dunhurst,

But if any package be commin' from abroad,

It be 'avin to come through me first.

At home, awaitin', I do have a wife.

She be happily married, but

I be livin' in strife. See, I

Been at sea for ten months now,

Irish coastline an' Smugglin' Silk,

An' I only popped out for 'alf a pint o' milk.

Tha' bein' said! I'm as loyal as a dog -

Any mate who ain't a gent

I consider a bloody great sod!

I do be livin' in Falmouth, I do 'ave to say.

But, to be sure, I do miss my post office,

When I be so damn far away.

 Peter Killigrew is my 'alter-ego' at work in Buccaneer Bay. He's a bumbling fool, but you gotta love him. I just want to say, that while I reject the notion that all pirates speak like this - in the Cornish accent - Peter Killigrew was actually Cornish born and bred. So it's all fine and well.

Thanks for reading! :)

Short Story Previews

Seeing as it's taking a while to post some new stories, here's some little snippets of what's yet to come. :)

 'That Girl':

So I look around to see whether the idiot is going to rugby tackle me to the ground over some Jelly Beans and I accidentally made eye contact with the girl, more than once. Now, I know I'm not the only one that when this happens automatically thinks 'she wants me', even though you know it's unlikely. But that's what I thought.

At that point was when I starting to think about her, with her long straight black, hair and dark eyes from the deepest mascara and pale complexion, tipped off with a red T-shirt and black trousers supplied by work. She was petite and while not the most obvious of beauty, there was something about her that I kind of liked.

Working Title (Thrill Ride?):

“Fuck 'em” He slurred, as he realised they'd left without realising he was gone. He decided to stay and order another drink on his own. Dylan was sick to death of never feeling like he belonged. His flat always seemed lonely, to the point he bought a second tooth brush, in the hope someone might occupy it.

Getting his drink, he retreated to a corner of the room and decided he might text some people. He didn't feel like trying to socialise with new groups in the pub. Even when drunk, his shyness got the better of him. Rather he be approached.

Half way through a text, he realised he wasn't alone at the table.

'Maiden of the Sea':

 

If I can say this now, before we begin, that the end of this story will be told with an excessively waned enthusiasm. Waned because of the joy it brings me; waned because of the disbelief by anyone who hears the tale.

* * *

To see such a creature right before your eyes fills one with so many feelings. A feeling of shock, of worry and of awe. The gleam of she, who some would name a beast, reflected the sun to make her look as if to glow. Simply, she was beautiful.

I never wanted to lose the sight of her. Yet, I never wanted her to catch sight of me. That was the feeling of fear. Fear of what she might do; fear that she may leave and never come back.

They'll probably be completely different after edits - and ignore any mistakes, they haven't even been proof read yet :P
Read all my old writing using the links on the right hand side. Or on my WritersCafé website here.

Hello!

In the English language, the word 'hello' is an amazingly powerful word. All you have to do is walk up to literally anyone and say 'hello' to provoke so many varied reactions. In some cases the reactions would be great and result in friendship, but some violent ones which result in insults.

To say the word 'hello' could either mean that you wish to talk to someone, or that you are ready to listen to what people have to say and it is often the gate way to extended phrases. For example: 'What is your name' or 'How are you' - if spoken to a stranger is never as warm or friendly as if preceded by 'Hello'.

People are often worried about approaching people they do not know because they don't know what to say. But really - all you have to do is start with 'hello' and the rest just follows from there. If conversation comes easily, then the person is a good person to talk to - if not, then it might be more effort than it's worth.

Aside from strangers, it is the easiest way to answer a phone when we do not know who is on the other side. It is the testing sound for a microphone over a Skype conversation, or for a roadie at a gig. It is such a word that can mean both everything and nothing.

So, as each day goes by, try to say hello at least once. Otherwise you could be missing out on many happy social occasions or budding friendships. Simply with the magic word 'hello'.

Scare Theory

I love horror. Horror in the forms of books, films, games and where it meets real life.

And due to this - I have a theory, that I've had for a long time, about horror. Which pretty much breaks down the different types of fear we experience. Each of the categories have many sub-types as different kinds of fears that we have, but they can all pretty much be put into four categories:

   1. Screamers
   2. Anticipation
   3. Suspense
   4. Disturbance

Allow me to break them down:

• 'Screamers' are the least skilled of a horror type. It is where we get a massive adrenaline boost from something unexpected. This is something very difficult to do in book form - but is oh so common in cinema. These are things that jump out when you're not really prepared and you jump in fear either very lightly, or out of your skin, or just freak out from it. There is not much skill in causing it and any media with just this is really not worth a look. However, very rarely mixed in with other types - this can be a brilliant and effective method of keeping you on your toes.

• Anticipation is the waiting. This could be waiting for a screamer, or just waiting to know what is going to happen to someone. This is most commonly the fear of the unknown when you are only temporarily in the dark. A fundamental part of anticipation scare is that you know that something is going to happen, you just aren't sure what or when. Anticipation can accompany screamers, if done well, to keep you hanging on to the fear. It can also be used with disturbance.

•  Suspense, is a similar feeling to anticipation. But it is 'on the edge of your seat' type of fear. This is the fear where you don't know if something will happen or not. Half of the reason this is scary is because it is inward - you can be torn between being scared just in case something does happen, and hiding it because you don't want to embarrass yourself if nothing does happen. This works with a humiliation factor and happens most commonly amongst other people.

• Disturbance is sickening. While it does not include gore (because I don't count gore as 'horror') is encapsulates things that aren't making you linger on the edge of your seat or pumps your adrenaline - but confuses you. Something you can't figure out (also known as a 'mind-fuck') and unsettles you. This comes in the form of mangled physical things to plain insanity unnerving you.

Now, if we were to use all of these in the right formulae - then you have, on your hands, a very good horror hub. But using them badly will really cause it to fail miserably.

While I don't really get scared by much these days - there are many things that I can still appreciate for it's horror skill. Also, if you look at any of the top horror films or games compared to the worse ones - you can see the difference in how they use these four categories of horror.


If anyone else is interested in horror or would like to say anything about my theory - please do contact me in one form or another. I would love to hear from you :)

Thoughts of a Sweet

So now I'm home. And settled. I've been speculating on a few things. Firstly is my ability to use pirates and acting friends in videos I wish to record when I finally get my camera. As a result I've been writing something pretty cool for that.

Also, aside from all the things I planned to write, I went ahead a did some free-flow on paper and now have more things I need to get done. I'm not making it easier for myself.

However, after watching Simon Amstell live (which was very brilliant) a just over a week ago, I've sort of been interested in Comedy again properly. Now, I do see comedy as an art. And so many comedians have said that they have had a similar moment to what I had - when you go to see a comedian live and you look up at the man on stage thinking 'I could do that'. So that, I still wish to do.

Ideally, I'd like to be a compare of my own comedy club... but that's a little far out of reach. So instead, I'll just settle for using my Youtube page for vlogs too. With comedy rants, my style of humour. Which is totes amazing.

Should be something to look forward to. Anyway, enough of these crappy update blogs. Next post is gonna be something proper, like a rant or perhaps a new piece of writing - who knows. All I know is, it's late.

Also... Get people to read my blog and look at my work and like my facebook page! If you could, I'd be muchly greatful. It'll start getting good soon... maybe.

:D

The first year of university ends. Philosophy degree starts.

So, tomorrow I'm moving out of my flat in the halls of residence, never to return to this room. That marks that I'll be home for four months over the summer to move into my new house for next year.

The major difference between first year (which I've passed with a 2:1) and second year, is that second and third years actually count towards your degree. Which is why I'm glad I've made the decision now that I want to take more Philosophy and drop more psychology.

It seems that my old first love of psychology slowly was pushed out and my new first love of philosophy slowly grows larger. I changed from single honours psychology to single honours philosophy in no less than a year and a half. Including taking joint honours in both and even major-minor in Philos/Psych.

This isn't such a bad thing though, as my interest in getting a career in psychology no longer seems existent. It seems the more philosophy I do, the more I dislike paradigm based science, and psychology is incorrectly trying to be a paradigm based science. So basically, learning psychology academically is absolutely crap - which explains why most psychologists are morons and only learn by the book.

Instead, I'll continue to learn psychology on a personal level and apply it how I wish. Because Philosophy is actually more useful in understanding people and thoughts and ways of life, psychology just teaches you to notice things and treat them objectively, and manipulate them.

Anyway, in a nutshell - that's my academics. First year is over, now the important stuff starts. Though it's not stopping me trying to do all the things I still want to do, such as my Youtube channel or writing new stuff.

Also, anyone who thinks philosophy is dead or useless. You are a fool.

I hate it when things come to an end.

This post is going to be a little raw. But that's kind of what I want - I'll write it once without re-reading and post how it is, literally my uncut and sporadic thoughts.

One thing I never wanted, was for this blog to turn into a blog where I constantly apologise for not updating regularly enough. So in thought of remedying that, I'm starting to list themes and things to write about and post on here more regularly. I'll be posting thoughts and things about life - but there wont be many stories at the moment due to my current aims in life. Also, I'd like to be more honest alongside the comical rants.

Speaking of which, I want to share something a little more honest on here now. It might sound sad and stuff, but so be it, I understand and that's what counts. The thing is, I have just finished watching the last ever episode of House and was genuinely sad afterwards, in the knowledge that it wont be made anymore.

Now, people can say what they like about the show - hate it or love it or never really watched it. But I enjoyed the show, and I especially enjoyed the character House. I will have to also admitting to wishing myself more like the character (harsh as he is - he's brilliant). But that's not it, ranting about people wishing they were a more interesting character in a more eventful programme is another blog post elsewhere.

What upset me, is that for my age and point in life it made me realise how I hate things coming to an end. With the end of something that lasted so long and was so epic, it followed all the little things that I realise have gone. I only ever seem to realise this in small medias - such as when I complete a Final Fantasy game and get upset because I don't want the game to end.

When this happens, it's not the game you're worried about, it's just that it's more obvious that the adventure you were on is now over and it's something you don't really notice as much in life when it does happen.

I know this post might seem a little bit pointless to some people, or just stating the obvious, but fact is that it's rare that I stop to notice my own weaknesses. And as much as goodbyes don't bother me and as much as I prefer change to things staying the same - some things, I just don't want to end.

But with the sadness of things that have ended, it accompanies the fear of things that will come to an end. And I've realised how much more that will happen to me from now on. More things are going to start and random opportunities to take, but that leaves many more doors to be closed. So, you see, it's not that House has finished, it's what it represents kind of makes me feel a little vulnerable.

So to end on a nice note. A silent thank you to all the nameless people who have shaped my growing up. I wish everyone who actually read this post to the end many happy memories and situations you don't take for granted. Thanks.

Update!

  So, yeah. I haven't posted for a while, so I thought I'd put up an update with all 'comming soon' things.

  First things first, the reason I haven't posted for a while is because life has been pretty hectic with things happening left right a centre. Computer breaking, life issues and currently in an exam period, to name a few things.
  Because of this, I've set the entire summer aside to catch up with my personal projects. I'll start all of this around the end of may / beginning of June, so watch this space!

  In order to make up for lost time, my summer is going to be filled activity. I intend to be gaming a little bit, just for something fun to do, but when I am not doing that or working, I'll be posting little bits on here. I'll be reviewing lots of writing and working my way through books. I'll also be trying to write 1000 words every day - so there will be some new stuff coming soon.

  Some of the things I have to write include Dragons, Mermaids and unique quirky characters. I have a new style of editing to try out as well. So 2012 might be a good year to get a writing portfolio to show off.

  On top of this, I'm going to be working on my Youtube channel and writing sketches and vlogs. I'll mostly be using it for comedy, but there will be lots of ideas flowing about. I should be getting a new camera, so will be writing, directing and acting for Youtube in the not so distant future. So, I'll be posting more about that too.
  The idea before about the podcast is also still going to happen over the summer, and will likely be added onto Youtube and iTunes for free download. We are going to try and make it as interesting as possible, so do watch out for that.

  After all my work flowing around on the Internet, I'll be sure to have something to prove myself as a creative writer, so towards the end of the year I'll be e-mailing people to see if I can do freelance writing work or offering writing commissions (if that's what it's called) in order to hopefully gain some money.
  On this note, if anyone wants anything - poetry, short story, thought prose, comedy sketch or editing / reviewing of your work, don't hesitate to contact me. Depending on the workload, I'll likely do it for free at this point.

  So there we have it. I am still alive and my plans are still as elaborate and ambitious as ever. My exams finish around mid-may, then there'll be some time for me to sort my life out. So fingers cross I'll be neck deep in work before I know it.

  Thanks to anyone who actually reads my blog or likes my work, sorry for neglecting you. Ta ta for now!

P.S. Game of Thrones is awesome... watch that.

Solitude

Pacing is a common sign of madness. That being said, pace is what he does. In his room. Procrastination is a sign of being unorganised. Pacing is what he did to procrastinate. Spending so much solitary time is very ill advised.

He cannot leave the space. There is no need to get dressed. Pants all day long. Laziness brings no joy. Things to do, things to do. The only sound he gets is his own voice when he coughs, or sneezes. And occasional boom of the pacing feet; storage and back to get basic food or water.

The silence is lingering and horrid. If you listen to the silence close enough, you can hear the lack of hearing. A faint ringing that doesn't exist is the sound of a million little voices whispering words against him. The closer he listens, the quieter they get as if taunting his very marrow. What do they say? “They hate me, they hate me” The repetitive thoughts hang from a noose. Rhythm in line with repetitive rocking.

The pain of the stinging eyes becomes normal and the eyelids stay static for longer. Disheveled is the hair on every part of his body and the sunlight beams through a hole in the roof. If anyone else is alive, they hate him as much as the ringing voices of nothing. The ringing, the ringing, the cringe and the sting.

The only thing missing is a distinct lack of smell in the rancid room of a jaded nose. He would count the days, if not for forgetting the existence of numbers.

What are they saying?

They hate me.

Ode to my Mum

Like a few others in the world,

I was born of woman.

My mother, though,

Goes by the name of 'Karen Sweet'.

If she were on 'Mothering on Ice',

Her score would come up 'elite'.

I'm as grateful now, as I always was, back

When feeding from teat.

Now,

We may get annoyed at her being a mother,

At times, my brother and I.

When she fusses over me,

Or watches crap TV,

I just want to break down and cry.

And when I was little I was always amazed at

Just everything my mother knows,

But now I'm away I'm mostly amazed at how hard it is

To wash my own clothes.

My mum may get sad at at us being grown up,

Not young or playing with toys.

But she knows very well, that no matter our age

We will always be 'her little boys'.

So for me, with my mother,

There can be no other - to have her is my

Worldliest Treat.

I just have to say that,

This rose by another name,

Will always be my mum,

Karen Sweet.

Questions Wanted for Podcast

Okay, well the Easter holidays are commin up in April and my friend Josh and I have this plan to do a bit of recording. If all goes to plan there will be some sketches for Youtube and some developments on our own work, but mostly we're looking to do a Podcast.

Now, we will be drafting in a third person in our Podcast and we will probably record a few of them to go into iTunes, and some for Youtube. Most of it will be free flow, but we have this idea about having some prompts to aid us in our weird and wonderful chats.

So in order to do this, we would like some questions. Literally questions on anything, we could talk about anything or even use a crap question as a prompt to talk about something else. If you have any questions from 'Would you rather be a teapot or a teapot cosy?' to 'what do you think about the recent thing in Japan where some guy married a robot?'.

Literally whatever you have to say, you can either send it to me on here as a comment, or on the right hand side it my e-mail if you wish to send it there. You could also send it over Facebook if you have it on my Facebook page here (please like it, I crave your attention). My friend Josh, I'm sure will be happy to recieve any, also. You can contact him on his fresh Youtube channel here.

Basically, all we want is confirmation that it is a question for the podcast - such as in the Subject, or whatever. Your name if you want it read out on the Podcast and however many questions you want.

Not all questions will be used, so we will be looking through them to find the best ones.

Thank you all for your help, in advance and I will give you an update when the Podcasts are being made and are posted. Thanks a plenty :)

Lake Of Missed Signals

So, I'm gonna try and get back on track with posting stuff on here. But today's writing is one that I've had for a fair while which has been re-envisioned plenty of times. I'm really happy with how it is at the moment and I think might reach a wider audience, showing off my style a little bit.

I hope you like it, it's a short sad romance called 'Lake of Missed Signals':

_____________

  The occasional moonlit glimmer bounced carelessly off the empty lake. People were scarce and the ducks were ashore. From behind one of the mini islands, a swan glided. Arrow head ripples disturb the water's surface.

  He couldn’t help but think about her…

  Going for a walk helps things. It allows one to clear the head. The cold ground beneath his foot quivered as one hefty lorry made it's self known. Unfazed, he continued to the boating lake. He was usually walking swiftly when listening to his music, though now, he had slowed right down.

  The concrete quivered again; distracting his attention as the timing of his step made a weightlessness awe spring through him when the lorry hit a bump. He stopped and looked up to make sure it didn't shake a third time.

  Thoughts racing; heart the same.

  Annoyingly, the end of the number plate read 'LVE'. The word seemed to be chasing him. Carry on walking. The word hurts.

* * *

  Confusion. The cold ground beneath her bench quivered for a short, wavering moment. Undisrupted in her confusion, not the will to become distracted, she stared accusingly at a small patch of stone laden floor. The floor did nothing. The stones did nothing. Music almost full volume. The water of the lake rippled as the earth quivered again. A single swan flew away, miniature waves gave animation to floating leaves. She watched. Lamp light cast on weeping willows, causing silhouettes in the lake.

  Only, questions were still flowed in thought. Confusion. What he really felt? What he said? What he thinks? Falling for him in the first place was a massive mistake; always was. One she hated herself for.

  Glance caught a slumping figure. Double take. He turned away. Stop. Eye contact. He walked over.

 * * *

  Shit. Is that...? There she was. At the boating lake. This was his place to think all night, not hers. Why is she here? Walk away. Eye contact. No choice. Not prepared. Walk over.

  “Hey there. You OK?” he hesitated.
  “Not really, no. How about you?" she hesitated.
  “Erm… Y... Yeah, fine” he managed to fake a smile. “Tell me then, I’m happy to listen.”
  Her stare into her own mind and straight through him lingered, before spinning toward the lake. The swan was back, static. A second was nearby. Had appeared, as nobody was looking, from under a bridge. Both Cob and Pen face opposite directions, paddling. Not a single fish seemed disrupted by the motion.

  She held out her arms as if asking for a hug. He accepted. Seconds passed, and the unwanted lower twitch caused him to let go. Not that she noticed.
  “I’m confused” She sighed “I just don’t know what’s happening with me and you know who. One minute I really think everything is gonna be brilliant, and going well. Next, I want to rip his balls out cause he calls me his friend. He just doesn't realise how I feel about him. I'm locked in this sort of friend-zone. I just wanna scream or go on a massacre… either one.” She pulled a half grin and looked into his eyes. He didn't grin back. He just acknowledged. Putting his arm around her with a comforting squeeze. He let go before he got too comfortable.

  She's complaining to me about a friend zone?! Wow, not sure this could get any more awkward.

  With the movement, he reassured: “Everything will pan out fine… I’m sure.” 'I'm sure' meaning 'I hope'. Hope is all he has to be with her. Reality is defiant.
  “Maybe, but I think really like him. And I don’t want to, any more. I just don't know!”
  “Well it’s OK for now. I’m here, so you don’t have to feel lonely. And I’ll stay and listen for as long as you need. I'm a comforter y'know? It's like my job by now.” Using the most comforting voice possible to muster, hoping she hadn't noticed how he was looking at her. Even on this cold day he was sweating under his jacket. This had gone on for too long already.

  He's so nice. He has such a loving stare. Do you maybe think...?

  “Thanks.” She paused to look him in the eye as he looked at her. “You’re my best friend, y’know?” He went to speak but stayed silent. She was smiling sweetly. Though the moment was broken as they realised the music was playing loud and each turned it off. They looked at each other. They giggled. One swan turned. Saw the other. It moved quickly. Second swan must have felt something as it span a half turn.

  Best friend. Typical. This can never happen now. She likes someone else and I just can't tell her.

  The water was never clear. But at night, it didn't matter. All you could see with the surface and that was as shiny an object as they both could wish. Corner of his eye, a lone figure had a length in it's stride. Even at this time of night people had destinations, goals. Perhaps was just another one with problems.

  He laid his arms round her shoulders. In this moment he was comforted by clarity. Pain. Internal sigh. He knew all he had. She was all that mattered.

   I need someone like you. I do care for you. Then again, I do still like him. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if me and you would really...

   The swans swam by each other; it was a nice scene. Their necks arched over apparently meeting in the middle. They totally ignored each other. The distance between them was larger than it appeared. The lamps went off. The moonlight grew. Stunning scenes of dismal trees turned to dimly lit masterpieces. Time to go home? Just give me five more minutes. Here. 'With' you. The ground quivered once again.

____________

Thanks for reading :) Here is my other work.