Guys with guitars...

Honest to God, I hate them! Guys with guitars. Ever since I was 14 and mr fucking Bobby Dylan (14-year-old spotty ultra-pretentious version there-of) told me girls with guitars look silly. Even at 14 I was a better guitar-player than he was. I guess that little episode gave birth to a irritable streak in my personality that sets the alarm bells off every time a guy with a guitar is getting a wee bit too cocky. Look, you're not Bob Dylan, deal with it! And your songs, even though fabulous monuments to your massive ego, are just not that great. Why is it that talent seems to spread equally between male and female guitarists but patronising self-admiration only pours into the male section?

In all fairness, this isn't exactly a post that promotes equal opportunities or what have you, but the next time mr fucking accoustic 2005 is trying to impress me with his latest epic on social injustice, he'll get a guitar up his plectrum.

Ghost stories...

It's full moon today. And it's Thursday. I'm not scared of many things, but I've never liked the full moon. It freaks me out. Anyhow, that's not the point. I met an acquaintance outside of work today. Well, it's her work now, she's the one who took over when I left. I'd just been there briefly today, and yeah... like I just wrote, I met her outside. This person is the butchest woman I know (which actually says a lot), she's about half as tall as I am, and twice as fat. She was talking about a scary film she'd seen yesterday and I politely told her to shut up as I was just about to walk home in the moonlight. We were talking about ghosts and how her (formerly my) workplace is most positively haunted. No wonder really. It was nice chatting to her anyway, even though she is the only person in the universe who makes me feel like a well-mannered prudish uptight goody-two-shoes.

Not very discreet spying..

The deal is this. I've got a friend. We go out for walks together. Our walks take exactly one hour. We're always walking the same route, which goes past the house where my friend was born and that her parents sold only last year. It was bought by a very young couple, who immediatly turned the lovely little 60's villa into a monument to minimalism and concrete. For what it is, in it's own particular genre, it's probably very well done. Uhm... To the rest of us it looks rather like an old garage in some industrial area somewhere. My friend always makes us go in slow-motion past this house. Which is awkward. Adding to my intense feeling of discomfort as we're spying on this young couple and their modern home is the fact that they've not got any curtains, which means that as well as making our very indiscreet spying considerably easier, it's also frustratingly easy for them to notice my friend and myself lurking outside. I've pointed this out to my friend who stubbornly ignores me.

Get a life, man...!

Right. I've discovered something that bothers me. I'm going to name this phenomenon forum hijackers. Yeah, that's right, forum hijackers! These are the people that write for forums with a sense of owning and absolute right. They're not the webmasters of the forum website, most of the time they're not even moderators or what have you. They're just ordinary posters of nonsense on a particular forum. Even so, their posts are full of self-importance. They're The Authority or so they'd like to think. Patronizing little buggers making new forum members feel as welcome as sand in Sahara. I'm desperately opposed to the habit of some people to encourage others to get a life, but if I was to say that to anyone, it would be to the forum hijackers.
Fuck sake, man, get a life!

That unpleasant feeling...

Certain things just give me such an unpleasant feeling. It's like a cross between a belly-ache and that sort of slightly elated state you're in when you're really excited about something. I absolutely hate it. It makes my hands go cold, for one thing, it makes it impossible to sit still, it makes me shake. I don't know, I can't really explain what it's doing to me. It's similar to that eerie feeling you get when you know someone's about to discover you've been lying to them. Or when you log on to the internet before you've checked all your messages (see my post from September 22 if you can be arsed). Well, I have that feeling now. And it's all due to someone sending me an e.mail. It's absolutely crazy, I've not been lying to this person, that's not it, I've not spoken to him for ages, I don't know... I really don't know why it's making me feel so utterly uneasy.

Apart from all this agony, I've decided to stop writing on my essay for the day, seeing as I've been at it since ten this morning. I'm hoping I might finish it tomorrow, but I don't know whether I'm optimistic or just plain stupid.

Proper crimbo!

When is it going to snow? Apparently in this part of the country, every other Xmas is white (thank you teletext). My plans are to finish my essay until Monday (well, I'll have to if I want to pass), and then put up all my Xmas stuff. And I'm ashamed to admit it but I've just downloaded "Don't let the bells end" by the Darkness. I HATE the Darkness, but that song just makes me think of Xmas. Proper Crimbo, like.

Seriously though, I'm going to need snow pretty soon.

Gloooooory!

Achilleus is famously given the choice to either live a long and comfortable life, marry and be remembered by his children and grandchildren before falling out of people's memory - or live a short, adventurous life and be rewarded by eternal glory and fame. Alexander the Great wasn't exactly given the choice, but still lived his ephemeral life for adventure and glory. I guess this is what separates a "good" leader from a "great" one. Napoleon could've walked in Alexander's footsteps, but he wasn't prepared to make that final sacrifice that Achilleus and Alexander did, but instead died aged 42 (...I think) from bowl cancer, stuck on an island. No glory there, mate. Still, he was the last head of state to actually lead his army into war. Something's been lost on the way; most of us aren't really prepared to die for anything, and no king or prime minister or president will ever be the first in line at a battle field.

On a more cheerful note; I'm completely addicted to aromatherapy. Got given some oil and a device for burning it by someone, and now I'm hooked. That shit is great, man.