Thursday, 31 December 2009

The Year in Review

I can't even remember the first half of the year, so it should be 'The Second half of the year in review'. Whatever.

I think the problem with University is that it's skewing my sense of time, with its short semesters, long holidays and, of course, the standard system of academic years ending in June/July. As such, all of what I did in my second year of Uni is forgotten, as third year takes priority. That of course means I can only remember summer and what's happened since then.

That, of course means, that anything good that happened in the first half of 2009 is forgotten, although I don't think there was anything memorable. Oh! My birthday was fun; what a good bunch of friends I have. That's not sarcasm; I love those guys.

However. The second half of 2009, by all accounts, sucked. And sucked hard. Time with friends in uni and spent with my better half have, as always, been a joy and a pleasure, and I can't take that away from them or myself. Socially, 2009 has been a good year.

It's with a sad face that I must admit, though, that my own personal problems, and physical ailments have shadowed; in fact, almost dwarfed those social gems beneath a depressing shroud. I have been worried, stressed, ill, ill again, continually ill, and stressed some more. At the time of writing this, in fact, I am also stressed. Not so ill anymore, but still not tip-top. I might be feeling fine just in time to go back to uni.

This latter half of 2009 has been wrought with personal struggle for me--not in any kind of heroic, Trotsky-ist way. Just a lot of worrying, and becoming upset over family members. Silly, sentimenal things. Don't let anybody ever tell you I'm stone-hearted. That's just an act.

However, my holiday has been a good time to relax (despite looming work), and Christmas with the family was a great time, better than I'd hoped. Hopefully, a good party awaits me tonight, and then I'll face 2010 with the coy, cautious optimism for which I'm known, or at least I want to be.

I hate to be depressing on New Years Eve. But as a year, 2009 hasn't been good to me. I am looking forward to 2010 (Twenty Ten! Take that, regressives!) and the possibility of goodness it may bring. I want to end on an optimistic note, to show that 2009 isn't leaving any kind of permanent scarring on me. 2010 is a new year; a new decade in fact. It feels kind of funky living in an early century. Especially after having done Romantic/Victorian studies in the previous semester. Feels like change, and progression is about.

Could just be the air freshner, though.

- Happy New Year, everybody!

Sunday, 8 November 2009


So yes.

I wrote 6 stanzas--so, all but the last--of this poem during a time, several weeks ago, of extreme turmoil. To me, the rest of my life was essentially hanging on one piece of paper. It was a silly thing, and I have melodramatised it in this poem, but it got to me. So I let it flow onto paper.

The last stanza was written after the world had been lifted from my shoulders, so to speak. I think what I wrote adequately describes that, but that's not for me to decide. I have several disectable literary moments I've put into the poem; so for one of the first--if not the first--time, I've actually put some conceptual construction into one of my poems. So we'll see how that goes.

I managed to get this written with a multitude of university dedications growing around me. If only I could get around to finishing some of my prose, then I'd be a much happier person. As it stands, however, the dialogue of Pat Barker's novels becomes my number one priority, despite the fact I also have a project of equal length as my Dissertation for my other class.

Fun times abound.

Enjoy, I hope.


Throwing caution to a breeze,

To snatch it back again.
Stealing short, brief lines of hope,
From Fear's immortal den

A darkened room, a dreamless sleep,
Awake to aches of truth,
Eyelids stuck, yet drumming down,
Lethargically aloof.

Repeating visions, haunting doubts,
Clinging like a creep.
Too despondent for a smile,
Not sad enough to weep.

Roaming, floating, drifting through,
A non-committing space.
Where undetermined; fear or farce?
This purgatory place.

Yet purgatory's dull and patient,
There are no sins to sell.
Wandering twixt noon and night,
This is the depth of hell.

A growing fear, a ticking clock,
Anticipating mess.
Answers looming, darkness now,
Fear is knowledgeless.

Hope eternal, springs anew,
Fear was folly's guest.
Eyes close gently, panic-tired,
Into dreamless rest.

Friday, 16 October 2009

Jan Moir - Synonym for Professional Suicide?

It isn't very often I go on the offense with regard to homophobes. I do occasionally, however, go out of my way to highlight ignorance and stupidity when it shows its all too common face.

The fact that Jan Moir's delightful article, on top of being uninformed, is also so bigoted that it's almost amusing is just a bonus. I get to champion civil liberty and be egalitarian all in the same blog post. I am nothing if not dilligent.

Moir's article (which can be found here -- backed up incase the media should do something sneaky, which of course they never, ever would...) makes two rather glaring errors in its approach to Stephen Gately's life and unfortunate death; One, that homosexual partnership is held up to a higher standard than heterosexual marriage, and secondly;

That his death wasn't natural.

I don't want to make a huge deal of her claim, or fill this entry with flagrant rhetoric (like that) but in her obvious desire for column inches and sensationalism, Moir has gone and overlooked that one tiny obstacle in her her way; the truth.

Coronor ruled 'Pulminary Odoema' - Fluid on the lungs. Entirely natural. Possibly caused by a previously unknown heart condition, or by vomiting in his sleep. Both happen, and both are unfortunate. The oh-so-subtle undertone she injects into her article that there was foul play involed with his death is just like my oh-so-subtle undertone that she's a stupid bitch.

Except I'm right.

To draw my ramblings to a neat conclusion (Well, perhaps not so neat), we have her suggestion--as always tempered with fairness and morality--that heterosexual marriages are the paragon of union, and public tragedies such as the deaths of Stephen Gately and Kevin McGee bring the name of homosexual marriage down to a much lower level than heterosexual marriage could even dream.

Which is utter crap. If anything, it proves that homosexual and heterosexual marriage are on a very, very even playing field. Men marry women, then have affairs with other women; they break their families up, get depressed, and can kill themselves, or cause others to. Women can do the same thing. The world can be dark, and althought I like to think that there is a lot of good to counterbalance the unavoidably grim situations I mentioned above, it nevertheless can and does happen.

These unfortunate deaths highlight nothing more than the tragedies that can happen as part of the human condition. It's not sexual, it's not gender.

It's just sad.

Sunday, 16 August 2009

The First

And who knows; maybe the last?

Well I've had another blog for some time, that I used as an in-character communication tool for a piece of roleplay I was writing. From my introduction you may have already guessed; it did not get used more than once.

But maybe this will. I'm seemingly bubbling over with an annoying amount of inspiration; annoying because getting them all down before they burn themselves out in my mind is a task.

I have several pieces I've already started that I'll be adding to very soon, and then there's new stuff I want to get written down. Whether I post them here or link off to them remains to be seen, but that's a trifling matter.

Now, down to what you all came here to see; hardcore nudity!

(and my signature)
- P