Of course I write at a time where I actually have time to myself and am not rushing to do work or go places so for the first weekend in ages I actually have nothing to do. And you know what... I think I'm gonna hate it.
Nah! I can entertain myself with reading I keep telling myself I'm going to do, or even another video game run-through with me blabbering over the top of it, wasting yet more precious hours of my life (also yours, but it's really up to you if feel like using up your precious seconds of oxygen on watching stuff). As it is, the immediate future looks somewhat crap, so in the interest of recent nostalgia, here's a review of the not too distant past.
First up tonight: SNOW!!!!!! And lots of it.
And the way people talk about it in this country, it's as if we've never even known of the existence of the stuff! People squeal about it! Facebook is littered with "OMG iz snowing, yeah?" and news reports tell us (just in case we were incapable of looking outside of windows) that it is, in fact, snowing. Furthermore, they go and spout off some crap or another about how it's the coldest "insert-time-of-year-here" with the most snowfall for almost 80 years, but then again they say that every year and I'm so physically bored of them I end up feeling the urge to hunt them down and pelt them with snowballs, shouting "DID YOU HEAR? I THINK IT'S FUCKING SNOWING", and lobbing one more as a fitting aftermath.
The snowballs, of course, being the bane of my existence. Hold on, I'm getting ahead of myself in this story, let me pull back a bit. So I wake up for early morning lectures, and as I lie there in bed staring out the window through the already open curtains, I am comforted and elated by the fluttering flurries of frozen raindrops that make me see that the world can actually be such a beautiful place. Nothing could disrupt this feeling... oh yeah, then I go outside and it's fucking freezing... then people decide to throw snowballs at each other and being the pessimistic soul I can be at times, I contemplate just how much God hates me to make sure I happen to get "unfortunately" caught in the crossfire.
Luckily, no such event occurred, but that didn't stop me having the constant flashbacks of that time in the school playground that I was targetted (about 8 against 1, might I add?) standing solitary on one leg with the other one up for defence (apparently, in my mind) and with my body slightly twisted around since my spine is less important than my face, apparently. Somehow, I managed to get pelted in the eye with one which unleashed the beast within and compelled me to resort to retaliating in my own fighting style: shrieking like a girl and getting pulled aside by the nearest teacher on playground duty. And let's not forget, I'm not just talking about teenagers (who tend to try to push things as far as they can in terms of violence), but ENGLISH teenagers (who tend to push things over the edge with a cartoon-style anvil chained to its neck in terms of violence).
Next order of business: reading and writing.
I actually started and finished a book! "Dead Famous", by some popular comedian fellow called Ben Elton, tells the story of Reality TV contestants in a house monitored by multiple cameras and flanked with barbed wire and security guards, which (due to copyrighting laws) is definitely not Big Brother. Anyway, after three weeks in the company of a total of ten people, one ends up getting knifed in the head (whilst naked on the toilet, no less) and the 783 cameras manage not to pick it up, leading to a full scale Reality whodunnit. It's like Miss Marple meets Davina McCall, two pillars of the British female entertainment industry... probably.
Next on the agenda is Tim Collins' "Diary Of A Wimpy Vampire", which (if "Dead Famous" is Miss Marple meets Big Brother) is essentially Twilight meets Adrian Mole. It's basically what would Edward Cullen's life be like if he wasn't the tall, dark, mysterious type and, instead, was a perpetual 15-year-old in a constant state of puberty and was the goth/emo/geek that nobody really liked in school. The first few pages don't seem much, but I've started it so I might as well finish it before I throw it across the room in a fit of "why did I spend money on you?!"
Last stop: shooting stuff.
Yes, I shoot things now. It's all legal, mind. As part of the "new University experience" ("woo's" and "yay's" all round) I started training in the noble art of Archery. It's not as "Lord of the Rings" as one might imagine, but it does involve me using an arched piece of laminated wood and taut string to fling long metal rods18 metres across a room into a lump of foam so can't really complain.
Anyway, why is it only now I'm able to speak of it? Because after weeks of such failure, I'm now able to hit the wee coloured rings rather than the bits of wood surrounding it a lot more. However, the accuracy seems to be a bit all over the damn place. Having said that, here's the first time I randomly and wildly shot at the target which happened to land in the centre ring, which is not called a bulls-eye (although saying that makes me want to shoot at a pub dartboard from 18 metres away to see if I can get a decent 180 and invent archery darts. Anyway I digress. Here's my first 10:
Yes, it's the one in the middle and not those surrounding it.
This one is the same picture but closer, and I want to draw all focus away from the one in the red and to the one right in the gold (which is actually called gold and not yellow, and not bulls-eye, but I'm sure I already mentioned that and now I really want a game of darts).
Unfortunately, it's now 1am and darts playing times are virtually over unless I feel like carrying out a certain act I'm fairly sure is called "breaking and entering". And I'm too tired for that now.
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