eleven.

So, time for something a little bit different! Today is Saturday the 18th of December, so from today, all the way up to Christmas day I'm going to posting a blog entry. These entries will be an agglomeration of my seven favourite things about 2010! Some of them are probably gonna be a bit silly, but all in the name of good fun, and giving you reasons to rip the shit outta me. On with the show!

---

Day 1: Teenage Dream - Katy Perry

There were a LOT of absolutely fabulous albums released this year! As I Lay Dying, All That Remain, Gorillaz, Bullet For My Valentine, Bring Me The Horizon, A Day To Remember, and a plethora of others released a number of phenomenal albums this year. So why did I choose Katy Perry over all of them when I'm not perhaps, associated with that music?

Katy Perry is a phenomenal writer, and a true show(wo)man. The album previous to Teenage Dream was fantastic in it's own right, what with songs like I Kissed A Girl, Hot And Cold, and Waking Up In Vegas. I adore all of those songs as much as I love my metal. But Teenage Dream stepped up the game.

There's something about this album I honestly cannot place. It just covers so many different types of pop song for me, with her steady, soaring voice over it all. Obviously everybody's heard California Girls and Firework, which is a great tracks, but there are others on the album that are just forgotten about.

First of these is Circle The Drain, which is my personal favourite song on the entire album, and of her entire catalogue. It's a raw, emotional song about broken love, where the male is just going down the drain, and all the girl can do is stand and watch, finally leading her to just say "fuck you" and leave. It's full of raw emotion and energy, with a driving beat leading the song through. This song could have been much much heavier, but it works just as it is.

Last Friday Night! What a great song about a good night out after work with the lads that just goes completely crazy! It's just a happy song about a good night, and I think it's great!

The One That Got Away, a wonderful balled-like song! Sure, it has a couple of silly whoa-whoa moments, but it's a great song about regretting turning someone down that you now wish you had, or not plucking up the courage to go over there and just ask them! A heartfelt track that i adore.

Hummingbird Heartbeat: Okay, it's kinda raunchy, but it's an energetic pop song reminiscent of the 80's, and for that reason I think it's a great song. With the added 80's touch of double recording vocals to give them an added 'deepness', yes, I love this song.

But what makes this album amazing is that it flows so unbelievably well! There isn't a "low point" in this album, which was noticeable in One Of The Boys, and I think she's done herself proud! I've listened to this album way too many times already, and I reckon I will in the future as well!

That's my first thing for 2010, and you can all shoot me now! See you tomorrow, folks!

ten.

For the benefits of those who have not read it, this is a public repost of my reflective essay for Advanced English. It's angsty, it's teenaged, it's full of teenage angst.

And I mean every word.

---

Sometimes I wonder to myself – when I’m sitting quietly in my bedroom, that little saintly chapel in which I barricade myself – what the fuck I was thinking. Was I expecting praise or recognition for an action so flippant and mistimed in perhaps the worst of places to do so? Perhaps looking for an outlet for my personal feelings and confused thoughts that had torn me from my place of happiness? Was I just completely and utterly mad, and this was just another stunt in a series of unfortunate events surrounding my school life? And what exactly had I expected from those others caught in the event, except exactly what I had feared.

“Yeah, I’m bi. So what?”

The world stopped. A heavy-handed slap hurled the Neanderthal that was Robert Cuthbert back into his seat. He hadn’t expected the attack, but dear God it felt good. A year and a half of treading on eggshells around him seemed erased from my mind. My vision clouded. My body tensed. Stiff-legged, I made my way to the classroom door in as composed a manner as I could. He’d looked completely stunned. Blind fury consumed me as the male’s pet - Nathan Swales - poked his head around the door I had just turned from in my rage. I dared him to follow me. I dared him a thousand times. Lord knows I would have loved to have the set. Had I seen tears in Robert’s eyes? I turned left, the polished eyes of Christ following me, and kept on walking, back up the road I’d been on for far too long.

I’d stepped down my spiralling path at the tender age of 13. Some point before my brother’s birthday, but after Easter, my father made the weighty decision to provide me and my sibling with that most esteemed of privileges: “The Internet”. It was a truly wonderful event. Simply marvellous the moment when the man himself emerged from the ‘hole in the floor’, just in front of the bathroom, and announced in a frustrated tone of voice, lips thin and quivering “It’s done. Happy now?”

Oh yes I was. Heaven had opened and let me in the ‘pearly gates’ early. The internet had fascinated me for a number of years previous, and to this day it still does. Millions of people a day enter an online world and talk to each other instantly, regardless of how ridiculous the time difference - or differences - may be. Entire sections of the web devoted to fan pages, trafficked by thousands on an hourly basis. Games galore laid bare for continents to toy with. News upon news spread hour by hour, minute by minute, keeping those idly perusing informed of all the most important events, and a greater amount of lesser happenings. It is a place populated with informative wonders, agglomerated sources, and most importantly: Porn.

I will deceive nobody if asked what my favourite thing about the internet was in those days. 13 years old, hormones raging, and in an increasingly sexualised year group exploring themselves and indeed each other on what seemed like a daily basis, regardless of the schools Catholic background. I wanted some of that action. Barely hours after setting foot on that most lofty of peaks, I threw myself from my ‘Tower of Babylon’ and went plunging into Sin, swallowed by the three circles of Internet Hell. I flew straight past the circle of “Soul-sucking Message Boards”, bypassed “Social Networking and Online Videos”, and landed safely in “Sexual Depravity”. My feet felt the path, and I began to walk.

The problem with Wilson’s ‘Online Inferno’ is that the ‘levels’ worked less like an office block with separate, self-contained departments, and more like a Venn diagram of devilish proportions. Not soon after my fall from grace, I was soon a participant of a number of – somewhat childish – forums and interest groups. It didn’t take long to discover YouTube either, and some of those most early of videos can still be found, for those trawling individuals that drudge up such rubbish. But so it was that I found myself in the central vortex of corruption, and I moved with a great haste.

It so happened that at this particular time, an old and now forgotten friend showed me a website I could not have dreamed of: FanFiction.net. I marvelled. I gazed. Then I grinned. Here, at last, was an outlet for all my devious fantasies concerning favourite literary heroes. Non-canonical romantic dribble about novels and trilogies and sagas I’d carried with me from my youth, but not only that. The ever-expanding horizons showed fiction involving video game characters, cartoons, even popular bands like ‘Gorillaz’ had something written about them. My mind was reopened, and in poured poison.

A few weeks later I discovered one story that peaked my interests. Not because of the characters or the subject, but the topic. “A gay love story” was the only blurb provided. I began to read. Then I couldn’t stop. Then I caught myself thinking strange thoughts. ‘But it’s… gay!’ was the only comeback I could think of. And perhaps it was. Perhaps I was? Perhaps I’m over-thinking. Time to close the page and look, once more, to the path.

Three months into self-destruction. I had read probably every piece of homosexual fiction about Pokemon. My degradation was most likely at its height. Previously frequented message boards had been abandoned. All, but one. A community based around a videogame saga, though the amount of deep discussion a group of 13 year olds can have about such a topic is, one must admit, minimal. There, I befriended many of the main ‘ringleaders’ of the forum. Most of them were moderators, and the administrator himself. Time zones away, and always I desired their input, their conversation. Their friendship. Their love?

Only one stood out to me. His name was Lea, a boy my age. He had a great love for fiction, for video games. And he was bisexual. Many a night I would stay up just to talk to my Filipino friend. At Christmas time, he asked me a simple question. I gave the response we both wanted. The sun rose. Hell was Heaven. I was no longer alone.

Many are sceptics about long-distance relationships. I sought to disprove them. I still do, as it is. Lea and I were perfect for each other. His interests and mine were linked so closely, our lives wonderfully united in love. He was my inspiration to improve my musical skills, the new guitar already worn with blood and sweat and tears of joy. When I wasn’t talking to him, I was practicing. My calluses showed the labour of my love, my skills ever increasing as our harmony continued. I felt I could do anything. I started playing guitar in public with a new-found charisma and joy, whereas before I could have remained indoors lonely, and brooding, and wondering who I was. I had grown.

But those around me hadn’t. School was still a second judgement on my soul, and every morning felt like I was trudging to the gallows again and again. Tormented by those folk around me, immature and unafraid to show their true revulsion. I had never been well-liked. But this was something different. Something more powerful and spiteful. They’d seen something beneath the surface. They dropped their nets.

I told but one person of my new discovery. A boy named Adam Campbell, ridiculously bright, and always a hard-working individual. I trusted him, more than others I considered best friends at the time. But he was holy, and a fermentation of his Catholic upbringing, and the religious body around us, lead to his confession of that deepest of secrets. Rumours spread around the school like fire. Damnation knocked again.

Initially I denounced the rumours. What else was there to do except save face? That self-same face that every night would crawl back to the computer, and hope to see my salvation’s screen name ping. Long weeks passed before I saw him next, and every day was lifelong, and fraught with punishment for my sins. Conversations brief. Begun and then forgotten. One year on, secured in the knowledge of my homosexuality, and I was truly damned.

My proclamation was, to put it simply, bittersweet. I felt freed knowing that my secret was no more. I slept peacefully that night. But then the questions began.

“How can you be gay? When did you turn queer? Who’s your boyfriend, faggot?”

Then the rumours.

“I heard he wanted to pump you. I heard he wanted to pump me. Does he actually have a boyfriend in Australia, the poof?

More questions.

“Were you lookin’ at my ass, homo? You ‘hink you’re sexy, batty-boy? Who’d ever love your fuckin’ ugly puss?”

Comments thrown at me like I was naught but dirt. My spirit plummeted to earth. I was torn down further from my starting place. They piled on top of me, and crushed me with their weight. Lea was gone. I was alone.

Hell is no place for the damned. Hell is a place for the fallen. Not for those who have sinned, but for those that hold their arms up high, with a smile on their face, and proclaim their non-conformity. It is populated with those who have shed the shackles of convention, and tread their own path which society can never understand. An individual, long, and winding road that never seems to end, and always seems to plunge them into darkness. Now I understood my road. Now I perceived my fate.

Pride. What was there for me to be proud about? My rainbow card was hidden in my wallet, and I dared not remove it once more in the religious prison of a Catholic high school. Some say that being homosexual is nothing to be scared, or frightened of. It’s something you should let others be aware of. Show them that not all gay people are strange, over-weight, glasses-wearing nerds sitting in front of their computer all night, wishing they had someone of their own, and crying themselves to sleep. I want to meet these people and give them something to be proud about. I want them to feel the pain I went through, the anguish, the total heartache of being out, and alone. Stuck in a world of isolation, while the ivy grows over the door. So I opened my door to my enemies, and I asked could we wipe the slate clean. But they told me to please “Go fuck yourself.” You know, you just can’t win.

Over the next year, I gathered friends from perhaps every corner of the globe. One of them was a college student in California: Aaron. He was, and still is, one of the most down to earth, honest, and loving people I know, and he was one of the few people that managed to pull me from my ever deepening hell-hole. It was he that brought me to some of my now dearest friends, some of which on my two trips to the states I have now met, and my boyfriend is included in that list.

Over time, as I climbed the rocky crags of hell desperate to see that light once more, mentalities began to change. People no longer saw it as an issue. The constant stream of insults became much less emphatic, only those least mature of all persisted in their goading.

“Shut it, ya poof.”

“Hey, that’s no’ cool, leave the kid alone, eh?”

Of course the information somehow always got passed on to the newest year group, but as I was bigger than them, they chose not to make that large a show of it. Hell grew smaller. I began to glimpse salvation.

One thing troubled me though. Was I damned for all time? The Bible, that most sacred of texts, bandied about by those least holy of people has a fairly straight forward standpoint on the issue. “Homosexuality is wrong.” But is it? One of my greatest friends, the woman who at that time was my registration teacher – Yvonne Lynch – was the principal teacher of religious studies at my high school. I sought her guidance. She welcomed me to her flock. Finally, I began to understand.

No matter what anyone said, I knew. They could drag their knuckles, and continue to stomp around in their caves; I knew something they could not comprehend. I was normal. It didn’t matter what they thought of me, I cannot change what I am. We do not decide one morning over our tea and toast that we want to like men for a day. We are who we are. It’s a cliché that cannot be stressed enough, and one which I will always stand firmly by, one which has been repeatedly proven to me by the people that I’ve met. Standing at the gates of paradise, I both see and understand. I should not be ashamed to be an over-weight, glasses-wearing, self-confessed nerd that sits in front of his computer and talks to people. I’m just one of a number, one which is truly happy and proud to be in that number, an angel in my representation of Heaven, with all my friends beside me.

And perhaps, one very special person.

nine.

Fuck Alien Swarm.

There I said it. If you're not sure what I'm going on about, then go the the VALVe website, download Steam, and then download Alien Swarm.

If you say to me 'I Like It', then I will kill you.

Premise: Alien Swarm is a free, top-down design, alien shoot-'em-up. To break it down, you are a space voyager who's job it is to investigate a deep space facility that has been over-run with aliens that want to kill you. Your job is to discover what happened to the scientists on the facility, and to kill the aliens.

This is made difficult by several things, and I'm going to go very nice and slow for you.

ONE. Top-down design. This is where, in games like Pokemon, you view your character from a 'skyview', and follow them around. It was originally used in games such as Lufia II, Pokemon, sprite games that didn't have the processing technology we have now. It was also coined by blizzard on games such as StarCraft (Also a game i detest) because it allowed easier camera flight to your various units, allowing players to micromanage their armies.

I can almost see why they would do that in SC, and god knows it wasn't the worst design flaw in that game by any means, but in a shooter, it is not a good idea. The last game that was designed in this way was called Infantry, and it was terrible. not just for that, but the controls (see below for more) were ridiculously complex. It simply didn't work for a shooter game, and I am simply baffled as to why any self-respecting game company would choose to design their game in this view.

The only saving grace of that is that they did put in a first-person toggle-switch in the options menu, but because everything was designed to be looked down on, the graphics are simply terrible in this mode. Not a good design idea, and should never have been implemented.

TWO. The controls are simply awful. The first 'mission' you can do in solo-mode is a very long tutorial where my fingers wandered most of the way over the keyboard trying to find buttons that stopped me dying. The controls are meant to be easy to use, not difficult to find, and they simply weren't. Okay, 'E' was still the use key, and 'Mouse 1' was still shoot, but nothing else stuck into my memory, and some wasn't even explained to me, hence why I died when the first alien ran at me from the shadows.

'F' provides a fairly unusable flashlight, as in this game, your aim is dictated by your mouse movements (as with most games). But in a top-down design this simply idea goes out the window, and as a pretty seasoned first person player, it was very difficult, nigh-on-impossible to get used to this new mechanic. It's not worth my time to work out how to use something so basic from scratch, and I think this should have at least been thought about.

THREE. This is the ONLY part of the game I liked. Ammunition does not last forever and does not grow on trees. It is a good thing that a game designer has finally decided to make ammunition finite. It isn't dotted around all over the fucking place, it's very much you're on your own. I like this idea.

But not in this game.

With the game already made difficult enough with a dodgy control system, the LAST thing I should have to worry about it firing at the next wave of aliens and not being able to do a THING about it. I simply don't think this idea works in this game. Any other game, and it would have been wonderful, but this just takes this from 'badly designed but okay game' to 'piece-of-shitsville'. And I had such high hopes too, which leads me to my final point:

FOUR. Everyone is playing this game. Everyone. Why? "Because it's free!"

That is NOT a reason to play a game. Games are played for fun, not because they don't cost anything. This game simply has no fun parts to it, and if I don't have fun on my own, I don't even want to TRY it with friends.

This game is not accessible to someone wanting to crack into these types of games. I've been trying for YEARS to get into the top-down view hardcore strategy games, and every single game that has come out has entirely failed me.

My problem is that since all my friends are playing it, I'm left out in the cold.

See you all when your bored of your free game.

eight.

Following this weeks public disgracing of Nick Griffin, cunt-of-the-world award 2009/2010, I thoguht this little piece of brilliance would be perfect:

101 Ways To Kill Nick Griffin!

We'll start with the normal ways:

1. Shoot him.
2. Strangle him.
3. Poison him.
4. Knife him.
5. Run him over.
6. Curb-stomp him.
7. Bludgeon him.
8. Drug him.
9. Lethal Injection.
10. Electric Chair.

Yeah, we'll bring back the death sentence just for him, won't we? We just hate him that much. How his party ever got a seat, I'll never know. Now onto some wilder fantasies.

11. Decapitation.
12. Public Shooting.
13. Public Hanging.
14. Public Decapitiation.
15. Morphine in his wine.
16. Rat poison in his food.
17. Murdered by a hooker.
18. Murdered by a black person.
19. Murdered by a jew.
20. Murdered by a Pole.

Well, how about something entertaining?

21. Ninjas!
22. Samurai...
23. Pirates.
24. Robots?
25. Agent Smith.
26. Kabuterimon.
27. Megakabuterimon!
28. Over-feeding.
29. Over-drinking.
30. Tokomon's teeth?

How about something wild?

31. Caravan'd. Top Gear Style.
32. Demolition ball.
33. Crushed by a fat person.
34. Stabbed by a thin person's shoulderblades.
35. Bears!
36. Moshed to death at an Anthrax concert.
37. Anthrax!
38. AIDS. (Feel that burn.)
39. Seige-starved by picketing his house.
40. Final Destination 3 Rollercoaster Fun Times.(tm)

Ormaybe some ice with that burn?

41. Beaten to death by foreign workers.
42. Handbagged to death by homosexuals.
43. Jihad by UK-Based Islamoextremists.
44. A pound of flesh removed from his body by Jews. (I do like Judaism, really.)
45. Speared to death by a Pole. (I like Poland, too)
46. Mauled by junkies, looking to use the fat on his body to make candles for a fix of smack.
47. Eaten alive by big cats.
48. Eaten alive by big wolves.
49. Eaten alive by cannibals.
50. Eaten alive by Tokomon.

Woooooah, we're half way theeere!

51. Horse-kicking by Juan Valdez's horse.
52. Horse-dicking by Juan Valdez's horse.
53. Caffiene overdose in a cup of Juan Valdez.
54. Poisoned by a cup of Juan Valdez.
55. Eyes burned out of his sockets by molten Juan Valdez.
56. Razorblades in the Juan Valdez.
57. Juan Valdez serenades him with a beating of his guitar over his head.
58. Juan Valdez serenades him with a gun.
59. Mass-stoning for his Juan Valdez.
60. Jamaicans.

I want a cup of coffee now.

61. Space-pirate-amazon-ninja-catgirls.
62. An Ancient Black Dragon.
63. the Raven Queen.
64. Dragon from Shrek.
65. Incinerated by a pink bear that smells of strawberries.
66. Meatballs fall from the cloudy sky and become his fucking head.
67. Deathnote.
68. Scott Pilgrim kills him.
69. Stoned to death with a d20.
70. Gased to death by any local wargames club. The scent would cause his nose to evaporate.

Fuck it, I'm having fun now!

71. Pikachu!
72. Mudkip!
73. Anonymous.
74. V for Vendetta style killing.
75. Claymore'd.
76. Grenade in the face.
77. Joker'd.
78. Riddler'd.
79. Tardis'd.
80. Tokomon. He's worth mentioning three times.

Something old school?

81. Drive him somewhere secluded. Shoot him. Leave the gun... Take the canoli.
82. Crow'd.
83. How about a shave? Blade across his neck.
84. Shot at the barricade of freedom?
85. There can only be one! Highlander'd.
86. Kicked by a motorcyclist off a bridge. Just like Baxter.
87. Human Football.
88. Operatic note so high it smashes his eardrums.
89. Dropkick him so hard it ruptures his spleen.
90. Sacrifice to a pagon god, oblique satan.

Funsies!

91. Strap him to the outside of a rocket. The outer G-Force will kill him.
92. If not, then atmospheric pressure will.
93. If not, his head shall decompress, explosively.
94. If not, fly him into the fucking SUN.
95. Localised Supernova.
96. Thrown in a black hole.
97. Hawking'd!
98. Crash into a sattelite?
99. Burn up on re-entry.
100. Fall several miles to the ground where he is crushed INTO the ground until he is merely whale meat.

And the grand finale.

101. 9/11.

Thank you.

seven.

So, let's talk a little bit about animal cruelty.

After a wonderful, wild, and somewhat weird night, I got to thinking about what really constitutes as "cruelty to animals". It all started wih a moth in the microwave.

Long story short, no-one was allowed to enjoy a nice little bit of moth-corn, but it did cause a rather large schism in the group. Some mused that it was cruelty, and much less humane than squishing the darn thing to death, while others complained that as the ridiculous, flailing thing was dead anyway thait didn't matter the cause of death.

And I began to ponder.

Animal cruelty is pretty much frowned upon by everyone with a name. Yet these are the exact same people that will quite happily slap flys, swat at moths, and destroy bettles and ants with not a thought. Yet these are animals, are they not?

Insects, avians, mammals, amphibians, all these things are animals. Heck, even WE - being mammals - are animals. So, if we go with the ideals of "Survival of the Fittest" then killing bugs is just another cog in the wheel, another spoke in the circle of life. Evolution IS working, so all we're really doing is contributing to Darwinism by getting rid of the animals that were stupid enough to fly into the room.

And for pretty much that reason, I'm on their side. Death, yes, is tragic, whether something small or large, but almost ironically: life goes on. With every thing that dies another creature is born in it's place. So why must I repent my sins for killing the bettle on my leg that summer?

But why stop at bugs? This is where the problems come in. Where do you draw the line? It's fine to kill a small creature that's commonly considered a problem, but hey! Mice and rats are considered "vermin" by a great deal of people? Why can't we kill them the same way? Just smash them out, much like we do other "creepy-crawlies"? Because it's mean, evil, and murderous to kill anything larger than an inch.

Fuck, why stop there? I'm a furry, I love animals. A LOT. Animals are one of my favourite things in life. But if we're gunna kill another species of animal - the humble ant or common house-spider - what about something bigger? DO the same principles apply? Cheetahs. Lions. Elephants. Even domesticated cats and dogs. Why do we not kill these things? The common answer? "Because it's wrong."

But is it really wrong? Like I said, the Circle of Life continues. Evolution IS working. So if an animal is stupid enough to walk into a bear trap, or a noose, shouldn't it just be allowed to die? Another spoke in the wheel?

But hey, why not stop there. Humans! Being animals ourselves, we can kill each other. It's got a name: Murder. But hey, if it's okay to murder a fly, isn't it okay to kill something larger, like a human? Or not even that, maybe we can just enslave them, and treat them like their already dead. We can even use a group of people that lives in perpetual poverty, like all the black people in Uganda, Tanzania, The Congo. Make them do our dirty work. And if they're stupid enough to cross the line? We can kill them. Just like animals.

And you can almost see, in a weird, twisted sort of way, exactly the thought processes of Hunter, Slavers, and other groups considered evil throughout the world. It's almost logical, really.

And that's what angers me. Because it shouldn't be that logical.

And that's when I stopped thinking, and cleaned the microwave. Hopefully it's clean enough for Alex.

six.

It's like you're watching it happen to someone else. Two unbelievable weeks. Two unforgettable, memorable, and altogether wonderful weeks... only to be forced to walk away, leaving everyone you truly love behind. And yes, I'm crying.

We'll start at the beginning.

Day 1: Consisted mainly of leaving my little Scottish home desperately excited to get to the states again. Anyone reading this will understand exactly why I needed this so badly. They'll know just how much I've looked forward to this for not only months, but near on a year. One year on, and with my trip almost behind me, I can say it truly was worth every single penny that i never should have earned. However, after two flights back-to-back, and a train ride to the middle of nowhere in New England, Massachusetts, I was finally greeted with a friendly face, a good nights rest (hah, how I joke), and a well fed stomach... though not specifically in that order.

Day 2: Even more traveling. Straight back to the airport in fact. Wherein I finally got to see one of the closest people to me - a certain Zach for those in-the-know - and travel with him out to Pittsburgh. Why?

I'm a furry. I like to do furry things. No, not animals, you idiots.

There's this convention. It's called Anthrocon. It's the biggest furry convention in the entire fucking world. And I was there. Again.

"Furfags" get the most fun.

Once in Pittsburgh, I got to meet up with another especially close person to me - A certain Richard, for those who knew about the last guy - and a mutual friend called Adam. From there, we bounded forth to Anthrocon.

The David L. Lawrence Convention Centre and Westin Hotel, Pittsburgh is in fact one of the best venues I have ever seen for a large-scale event like Anthrocon. The hotel prices are not what one would call... cheap, but lord knows It's worth it. The convention itself is also wonderful, and very accommodating to artists. Zach actually had a table where he was selling (very well priced and worth-the-money) merchandise! I was staying in the same room as (funnily enough) Richard and Zach, so it wasn't long before the beds were pushed together. More room for cuddling that way. A few preparatory things and a nice long rest, and we were ready.

Day 3: God. Where to begin? Registration happen in a blur. People upon people upon people started cramming their way into the hotel. Furries everywhere. I was in heaven. Not much happens the day before the convention aside from the opening ceremonies (which once again, I did not attend) but we entertained ourselves. Met a lot of wonderful people, friends from each and every side of the fandom, and got some lovely food in my stomach. A sleep, and then, something magical happened.

Day 4: You will all of heard of Travis by now. My invisible boyfriend, hidden from everyone I know by the internet. On this day, he arrived. And the Con get better and better and better. Waking up way too early; showering like a lame-man; bumbling around looking for breakfast; ferrying merchandise over to the dealer's room and running around buying artwork would tire anyone out. When your boyfriend arrives halfway through, you tend to catch a second wind. And god, did I.

I'll admit, i got fairly angry about certain things that day, but Travis was there to calm me down. Together, alone, we took a walk through the convention centre, out onto the balcony as the sun set over the Allegheny River, hands clasps and arms wrapped tightly around each other. Magical, truly. And yet, I have no picture. I will forever paint a picture in my mind about the night...it truly was wonderful... After our little couple-y moment, we went to see one of the fandom's comedians perform, and god damn if it wasn't good. Nothing could have spoiled that night for me. And indeed, nothing did.

Day 5: More waking up too early, but happily warmed by Travis' arms; More dumb showering, but made less awkward by Travis' presence; More fumbling for something to do for breakfast, but with Travis, Zach, and Richard with me, we'd find something. Meeting people, buying things, frittering my very little spending money away on material items which I will forever cherish. Another performance that night, this time from the chairman on the convention himself, performing his own (much fabled) stand-up routine. Ah, such is the life of a furry. Another night with Travis... and sadly, my last for a long while...

Day 6: And so, my boyfriend is forced to leave... He couldn't get time off work... I'll admit, it broke me to see him go, and there were definitely tears as I walked back to the hotel... but what time I did get to spend with him were some of the happiest moments of my life... and of course at a convention like this, there were lots...

Travis, thank you... <3

So what did I do today? Well, I tried my best to keep a brave face, and with Zach and Richard there to help me, I cheered up enough to get through the rest of the convention. This was the last official day. Tomorrow, we left for home.

Day 7: And homeward all the furs did go. Having to leave Richard was hard, let alone all the furs I had gotten to see and meet at the convention that were all scattering themselves to the winds. Another plane home with Zach... and then my second week began, with another close friend: The much talked-about, Kelly.

Day 8-13: Ah Kelly. If you're reading this, thank you so much for the good times you let me have with you. For letting me stay at your house, for shipping me from place to place to see people like Zach again, for even letting my friends come round to your home on the night of the 4th of July, you have been so kind to me. I cannot adequately give you thanks, but what thanks I have given you, I hope you cherish.

For those who weren't there: There was a lot of hanging out, one trip into Boston-proper, several days of hanging out with friends, including the Z-word, and some wonderful nights of film-watching. Through Kelly's generosity, I got to see people I've known for ages like James and Calvin, two utterly wonderful people I am so close to. I've had the chance to just kick back and enjoy what time I've had here. I've had time to let the sadness slip away, and be happy for a while...

But with all things, on this, Day 14, the sadness returns. In a few short hours I'll be on a plane back home to Scotland, and I will most likely not see these people for another year...

Travis, Zach, Richard, Tony, James, Calvin, Kelly, Sean, Adam, Nathan, Emily, and everyone else I got to see and talk to:

Thank you.

I will never forget this trip.

I will never forget you.

I love you.

Goodbye.

<3

five.

Yup, late again. Who knew?

Two blogs ago, I discussed my personal angst with certain teachers in my high school. I didn't necessarily intend to follow up the subject again, but it has struck me that as of yet, I have not made you all suffer that aged-old, yet timeless argument with what is taught in schools.

(To put it simply, the "Why do I need to know this?" rant.)

First though, a quick recap of the Scottish education system, for those not in-the-know and/or American:

Step 1: Suffer 7 years of primary school, where you can run about, be ridiculous, never have to worry about a late homework deadline, and generally have the most fun you will ever have as a kid. Friendships form, kids fall out, push and shove each other, pretend to understand what love is, and just act like...well, there is no way to describe it, like children should.

Step 2: Endure anything between 4 and 6 years of high school where you'll learn to do everything you never knew you needed, decide at aged 14 what you wanna do for the rest of yoru life, and suffer teenage drama, fallouts, general hell, homework loads that make you want to raise the building to the ground, and generally destroy all the memories of the happy schooldays of yore (see above)

Within step 2, there are several substeps:

Substep 1: Spend the first two years sucking up to the teachers, trying to get good grades, and an even better name so you get in a decent class for the the coming years. At the end of this time span, pick eight subjects you will study for the next two years.

Substep 2: Sit a standard two year course, in which you learn the groundwork of eight seperate subjects, previously picked. At the end of this timespan, sit eight exams. Congratulations, you can now call yourself a hobo. Pick five of these subjects to study next year.

Substep 3: Sit a one year, intensive course, designed to chew up your brain and make you forget everything you did in the previous two years. It is intended to be much harder, and therefore you actually need to study for once. At the end of the year, sit 5 exams. Now that you're effectively destroyed for all time, pick three of these subjects to study a further year.
Substep 4: Unless your name is Christopher Iskander, drop everything and run. At the end of the year, sit exams in these three subjects. The wish you hadn't, because you've forgotten your own name.

Step 3: Go to university, Get job. Profit. Die.

So, let's see, that looks all well and good.

Am I the only one seeing a problem with this?

Allow me to exploit these problems, starting...now.

Step 1: So effectively, from the ages of 5 to 12, I'm expected to act like a child. Okay, so you learn your ABCs, how to read and write, how to count and do some basic mathematics,but I could learn any of that from books my parents bought me. Surely, if we're about to go to High School, where it's supposedly much more challenging, they should be doing their best to prepare us, by dropping us in at the deep end. It's because of the lackluster attitude to homework in primary school that I don't have the study skills required in high school. They should have been drilled into me then, so I didn't have to learn a whole new method of learning. Bullshit.

Step 2: I'm just gunna put this all under the one title. Okay. I'm meant to know exactly what profession I'm going into, what I'm going to study, and what grades I'll need to do so, at aged 13. Bullshit. Leading on from my last point though, I don't know how to study because it's never been taught to me. So when it came to high school, and I had another oppurtunity to learn how to work, it was pulled from me again.

The first two years are a complete farce. Anyone who's gone thorugh it understands, but for those that haven't, it's a lot of being talked at, not a lot of writing, and not a lot of homework. Again, life is supposed to be harder now, why isn't it? Are they deliberately fucking with us? I think they are, cos even 3rd and 4th year are a joke. More homework, and occasional note taking. Piece of easy-as-pie learning.

Then Higher arrives (5th Year) and rapes you.

Remember high school was meant to be harder? This is that plus more.

And I've not been trained to handle the studying, the revising, the homework, the note-taking. They expect me to instantly know what to do, and to get on with it. Okay, they'll work through the course, but how can I revise for my finals if I don't know how?

And for that reason, I'm out.

Step 3: Everything after that is fairly straight forward really. Lots of getting drunk, I've been told. Looking forward to that.

But through this all, I still have a keen love of learning. I love to learn, to become more knowledgable about things, to allow my mind to grow. So to those who whine about why we're taught the things we are, shut up. It's you that always end up in McDonalds, or pushing trollies in Asda, because you never took pride in learning, or cared. Have fun working McJobs.

Because if you're going to argue then at least try to understand what you're talking about.

four.

Once upon a time this update was going to be about Recycling.

Yeah, two weeks ago anyways. I gave up on that one as a bad job.

Tonight, I realise something.

Something pretty big to me.

But allow me to backtrack a little bit.

You'll all know I'm a musician. I live it. I breathe it, enjoy it, study it, research it, wallow in it, dredge myself up with it. It is my life. My soul, my passion, my pride. I love it so much I'm running off to University in 3 months to study it. For a decade of my life, music has changed me, shaped me, moulded me into the person I am now.

But was it the only thing?

No. As with everyone, there are many contributing factors to who you are. Some of them aren't too good, some of them are silly, some of them are truly wonderful. And some of them make me step back and think: "Wow...did that really happen to me? Am I that lucky guy?"

Most things happen to me by lucky accident, I'll admit. Discovering a certain fandom: Luck. Finding certain people: Luck. Heck, even my Mathematics grade in my final two years ago was luck! Oh, and it was an A, for the curious - and I still don't know or understand how I achieved that.

Tonight, I reflected on one of those lucky accidents. A good friend once told me of this program called Skype. Back in the day, it was only a beta program. Now, it's a sprawling mass of people and culture, all talking to one another. I could be talking to one person in Canada, another in France, and another in Australia all at the same time with me in the middle of it all. It was a revelation to me, like MSN but with voice! Simply genius.

And you know, that was the key word: Voice. No longer would it just be words on a screen, no longer would it be a silent wait for the other person to type out a reply, no. Now, I could vocalise. Now I could hear. Now I could actually see the person I was talking to.

The program simply astounded me. It's creation has destroyed barriers between people. Once upon a time you had to grab a phone and suffer a huge bill to call someone in The States, usually with the most awkward conversations you could ever imagine. Now, it was free. Now, it was less daunting.

Now, it was exciting.

And I thrived on this excitement. I still do! I still get a buzz from being able to see and hear someone - perhaps someone well known in a fandom, or perhaps just a close friend - with no fear of awkwardness, expense, or hellish questions to answer. I was, to put it frankly, overjoyed at this prospect.

Over time, I have talked to and befriended many a person through skype. If it hadn't been for that gorgeous piece of coding, I wouldn't be friends with half those I am, and wouldn't know what fun I was missing! The random jokes to keep us all awake at 5am, the people falling asleep at their desks, the artists distracting themselves from work and complaining about it - but never once leaving, so much fun we were having.

And not just fun. People have cried on Skype to me, poured their hearts out to me as a vent. Been ridiculous on camera with me. Given me memories I will forever cherish. Made me laugh, made me feel heartbroken, and made me feel loved.

Loved. Truly, warmly, honestly loved.

Tonight, at 4am, I realised something.

Fuck my studies. Fuck my career. Fuck the people at my school that call themselves my friends.

Fuck the homework that was supposed to be handed in two days ago. Fuck the food steadily going cold downstairs on the kitchen counter. Fuck the music I should be making. I'm here.

Getting famous? Meh. Touring the world? Lovely. Making millions of dollars? Even better.

But I don't need any of that when the friends I have make me feel like a million dollars every single day, just by plugging in their microphone and saying 'Hello'.

Most of my friends I met by happy accident. But to those friends I've made: Travis, Aaron, Zack, Richard, Calvin, Kelly, Tony, and the countless others I've gotten to know...

You guys make me feel like the luckiest guy alive.

three.

The Foreward.

You will have guessed - I hope by now - that certain things do not agree with me. Indeed, I have been referred to before as a hater, ever finding reasons to dislike things. I find a certain fondness in critique, in exploiting the flaws and faults in the things I like, or indeed love. There are many reasons that could be proposed to explain why I enjoy this behaviour - and I will applaude the first person to use me as the main study in a psychology dissertation as to do so would be no mean feat. Until then however, I will continue to create these little rambles, in the hope some of it will make sense.

Quiant that I would make a reference to higher education in the previous paragraph, as it is currently at the forefront of my mind.

Education.

The Scottish education system, with all the flaws it may have currently - flaws which may or may not be fixed and yet another educational reform to be brought about in the next few years (and I do not hold out my hope for the former) - is considered one of the 'hardest' in the world. That is to say, it is tough. Pupils find it tough. Pupils need to know a lot, and I mean a heck of a lot for their exams, some of which they will never use again. The courses are grueling, and unless you dive straight in, you will never achieve. Many people around here will say that Standard Grade courses are easy, and that may be correct, but once that pupil reaches Higher or Advanced Higher (which is considered equal to the first year of university in terms of ability required) then if that student hasn't pulled their finger out before now, there is simply no way they will achieve.

I am one of those people. I was a fool, and I will be the first to admit it. I entered my 5th year with hopes that I would be able to sail through the system, much like I had Standard Grade. So what if the course was a whole year shorter than the last? What would it matter if the stuff I needed to know was more testing that before? How hard could it be? That August, I vowed to myself that I would attain the five A's I had always been assured, and had convinced myself I would achieve.

I was blinded by my ignorance - by my arrogance. Things started out okay. But within the first week I discovered that I did not know certain things as well as I should. I swore to learn that which I had learned the year before more thoroughly. I pledged that I would have no problems with the new information because all it did was build on the year before.

But old habits die hard, and time stretched on. By December I had missed homework deadlines a good number of times. I was considered a clown, showing up when I felt like it, not much unlike a certain few slackers in 6th year. Did this bother me? Goodness it should have, but no. I refused to see my folly. Instead, when Christmas knocked on my door, I decided that the Preliminary Examinations would cause me no hassle, and I would do minimum revision required to pass. And I did! A couple of questions here, a glance at my notes there. I thought I'd be okay. My fears dissapated. I was an A grade student already. So what if I had failed a couple of the NABs? What did it matter if I 'misplaced' some homework sheets? I was a smart guy. I knew everything I needed.

Prelims hit.

I passed Advanced Higher Music with an A. Brilliant, thought I. Nothing hard at all. No problem, I told myself.

I passed English with a B. I hadn't revised my quotations. No problem, I told myself.

I passed Geography with a C. Well, they marked us harshly. I'm sure it wasn't my fault. No problem, I told myself.

Physics: Fail.

Maths: Fail.

Computing: Fail.

Fuck.

What did this do to me? It should have spurred me on to change my ways: To start sitting down with my books and copying things out; To read over what I had already learned; To complete past papers; To turn things around.

Instead, all it did was depress me. I despaired, "How could I have failed?". I will not bore you with my thoughts and justifications. I was an idiot. I know that now. Now Maytime, and one univerisity down, with the other holding me up with a conditional I must achieve, I feel like a complete asshole. I was given a chance. I have done the deed. Already, I have failed.

My one chance now is to work. I know the information, I need to learn my weaknesses. Once I have that information what work I must do. But it is imperative that I receive this information. The problem is that certain teachers are...reluctant to help.

My physics teacher is in essence, a good man. That is, he is a good man in the same way that crack addict along the street that gives out free weed and throws a good party is a good man. He is not a person I personally like. He is sneering, quick to comment, and overtly sarcastic. Mr. Callaghan is his name, and he is a man of resignations.

He resigned himself to the fact that I was going to fail physics after the first prelim. He resigned himself to the fact I am a useless student after I failed my second nab a multitude of times. He resigned himself to the fact that he's not going to help me when I need it most. He is a man of resignation.

Two weeks ago, my physics class sat a second prelim. This is designed to show us where our weaknesses are, and hopefully to show improvement. Two weeks the papers have sat on his desk. Two weeks I have waited on the information I need to start working. Two weeks, and nothing.

When I confronted him about it today with another student, he simply said he hadn't done them. When I told him I needed to know, and that it was important, he sneered and said "Eh, well Cailean, do you really think your prelim is going to count for anything?".

I wanted to punch the man, How dare he exploit my weaknesses for all to see. How dare he pontificate to me about how I am a failure. How dare he show me for who I am: An arrogant fool.

And then it clicked. Why me and him do not see eye to eye. He was as I am. He only got a B in his physics higher, something I would love to achieve now, and indeed, is the best I can hope for. He and I are so alike it is like staring into a mirror. Only my hair is longer. The callous, arrogant person I despise as a teacher is the person I am just now. It is my own fault that I am in this position, and he knows it. Through his words, I realised something I should have a long time ago.

Hypocritical for me to despise the critique I recieved from him. It is more than I deserve. To have my flaws shown to me and exploited is to show me how I can change. I know now who I am - and I know now who I will be. I am not the arrogant and sneering face. I am not the neatly trimmed hair. No.

I am my own person. I may be holistic in my approaches...but I know what I will do about this...I know what I will do.

This does not mean the man has a right to have not marked our prelims. No, this has not made me complacant. No, this has fueled me. I shall find out my prelim mark. I shall do my best to improve where i have failed. I will try my hardest in the may exam. Not because I feel some kind of self-pride, or feel I have a point to make. Not because I want to settle a grudge. Not because I want to see his face turn. No. One simple reason, a statement I told myself at the start of the year, and a thought that has carried me on throughout the long months. A statement I should have made philosophy, and carried like a bible at my breast. No matter who you are, remember this. No matter who you are, know that these words will forever be alive in my thoughts, my feelings, my emotions, and my life. There are many things I am, and not all of them good. But there is one thing I shall never be:

I will never be a failure.

two.

Technology.

Techonolgy is simply wonderful. Constantly evolving and changing, moulding and shaping the world around us so that everything in our lives now has an element of mechanisation involved. Here's a simple example:

You wake up in the morning to turn your favourite song off on the alarm you set for 7:25am on your cell phone. Groggily, you stumble to the bathroom, where you set about brushing your teeth with what six months ago was considered the best electronic toothbrush on the market, but now considered obsolete - thanks to a new pulse technology that dislodges plaque from teeth with small ultrasound frequencies - which you intend to buy next week. Stepping into the shower, you barely notice that the showerhead has been produced to create the best feeling, most even shower, designed to drench your body almost completely as you stand under the stream, scrubbing clean with a sponge specifically designed to produce a thicker, more efficient lather. Finally, finished at last, and after shaving with a sonic razor that sends electronic pulses out to the hairs to raise them for a smoother shave, you towel yourself off with an egyptian cotton towel, the fabric wound and spun into the object by machines, to make the longest lasting towel available on the market.

You see my point? Technology, and the products of technology are all around us. Even the keyboard I'm typing this blog with is a simple marvel of technology. Think back perhap twenty years: do you think people would have expected companies like Samsung to create 3D-TV sets? Could people have contemplated the assimulated realities we see in games like Half Life, Final Fantasy, and Halo? Would it even have entered people's minds that they would be able to surf the internet - an idea newly released unto the world - on a mobile phone?

No, it would not.

The possibilities for this world with current technologies are huge.

But so are the possibilities for the big companies to 'cash in'.

Case in point. My cell phone came with a set of headphones. Music on a mobile is common these days, so most think nothing of it. My mother's cell is much the same, coming with much the same gear. Hers is a Samsung, mine is an LG.

Both came with exactly the same parts, exactly the same accessories, and are exactly the same size and weight (when rounded off). Why, then, is every single hole and port on these contraptions different? The charger slot is different, the battery is a different size...if both came with the same equipment, why on earth can't they have the same outward design?

Most people would tend to argue that it's to give the device a feeling of individuality. "If everyone had the same phone, there wouldn't be any change advances in techonology" is one argument I've heard before, and "I don't want this phone, I want to have a phone that no-one else has!".

The truth - and it is a very simple fact - is that if you were designing a piece of technology, you can't use what is already available. Not because of cosmetic value, but for profit. Why on earth would you create a mobile that uses the exact same charger as another rival company? Why would my make it the same as other phone's you made? Money, money, money.

Here's a scenario. You lose your phone charger. No-one else you know has that charger, at least no-one nearby. You know your local outlet is open and accessible, and you know that you're running out of time. What do you do? You buy a new charger.

Your headphones stop working suddenly. You suspect it to be a design fault. You also know that no-one around has a set to lend you. You know your local outlet is open and accessible. What do you do? You buy new headphones.

Your MP3 player breaks after a sudden fall. The past three years of your musical tastes is lost suddenly. You know it will probably cost more to fix it than to buy a new one. You know yoru local outlet is open, you know you have the money for a new one, and you know you can get there before closing time. What do you do? You buy a new MP3. A different model, a different company, and inevitably lots more equipment.

And what are you meant to do with the stuff you are left with? A charger that is now redundant, a set of headphones that will fit nothing else, various accessories that you cannot swap into or onto your new phone. Nobody will buy them from you, vendors are unlikely to take them off of you, and only certain recycling points will take them from you.

But, ethically speaking, is it 'right' for companies to spend so much time and energy waisting materials that are finite on this earth to draw more money from the consumer? Is it economically correct to be milking the consumer for every penny when the world economy is so terribly shot?

I am no economic expert, but I do know that kids love their technology. Parents in poor economic positions will often put their neck on the block just to see their child(ren) happy., Games consoles, laptops, iPods, cell phones, they'll buy anything for their young ones. And that leads to terribly spoilt brats wandering around schools, showing off all their technology, breaking things just so that they can get new things, and often not thinking about money.

I understand now how big an issue money is. In four months I should be a university student. Money is tight enough as it for my parents, and I know that my student loan will be small, thanks to a major problem in the university economy. Every penny counts. I don't have the money to buy a new phone, I don't have the moeny to buy a new MP3 player. I don't have the money to keep up with the times.

And I don't have the patience for spoilt brats.

one.

So, Coffee.

I fucking love it. It's delicious stuff, it keeps me awake, it's absolutely wonderful!

When it's not instant.

It also has somewhat romantic connotations. I love the potential image of stumbling downstairs slowly after a long passionate night, making a nice hot pot of coffee - pouring a slightly over-filled cup of nectar (rounding it off with some milk and suger) just to press it to my lips as my boyfriend appears from seemingly nowhere and hugs around my waist to kiss me as I drink. It makes me smile. That or heading out on a cold and winter-y day to the coffee shop to pick up a cup, heading back to my boyfriend and snuggling into him to warm up with a nice warm drink. They both make me feel 'warm and fuzzies'.

When it's not instant.

After a long day at school, or walking or running, nothing cheers me up more (in a drink) than the warm smell; the deep brown inviting and soothing colour; the frothy milk that tops it, with chocolate sprinkles on top...it's all terribly inviting and makes me want a cup whenever I envision it.

When it's not instant.

What is there in my house right now?

Not the usual combination of instant (mother's choice) and the Real McCoy - no, sir.

I find to my dismay, only instant.

Coffee is getting more and more expensive. My local supermarket - think Wal-Mart, Americans! - neither stocks the brand of coffee I enjoy the most ("Lavazza Decaf", for those interested and/or in-the-know), nor stocks alternative brands at a price i am willing to pay. My prefered brand is merely £2 from the supermarket in-town, why can't my local stock the same thing? I'm not going to pay a whole damn £4 for their rubbish home brand? I deserve my coffee to be cheap and affordable! I understand the economical climate, but god! I need my caffiene!

If I cannot buy real coffee, I'm certainly not going to deal with having just instant coffee. The warmth, the flavour, the colour: All gone. It's lost, tasteless, and mottled by the colour of oils that were used to bind the already ground, reprocessed beans, which rise to the surface, marr the flavour, and destroy the texture. Not to mention how it reacts to sugar, becoming overtly sweet with too little sugar. All of these things destroy the integrity of the 'good stuff'. Really grinds at me, you know?

And what's worse is that (returning the money) instant is more expensive than 'real' coffee anyways! A large glass jar of Nescafe is exactly the same in price as my locals (ridiculously overpriced) home brand columbian bean! Not only is it more flavoursome, it's more warm in texture, smoother, and just nicer in general: Why then would anyone blow their money on the cheap stuff!

Think about the integrity of the bean for just a minute. Small, intricately patterned beans, backed full of warm, dark, almost-nutty flavour. Bought for next-to-nothing on the arabic and columbian markets (the most commonly known) good companies will take the beans and grind them, package them, and sell them on to the consumer for a profit. Fairtrade companies that employ bean-growers give thousands of pounds back to the producers a year - much more than fields owned (indirectly) by Nescafe and other brands like Kenco do.

Nescafe (more than Kenco) use the worst beans on the market, grown at accelerated rates using pesticides, fertilisers, and genetically modified seeds to produce thier flavourless beans, which once picked and destroyed in industrial grinders, and mixed with oils to not only return them to a bean-like image (if only) but also to make it look to the consumer that they have more to offer. In actuality, they use the same amount of beans as brands like Lavazza, and their ridiculous shape makes it look like more is on offer. Not to mention the chemicals they use to add flavour to the 'beans'!, and the waste that goes into rivers from chemicals that can no longer be used, or are dangerous. Kenco at least credit the farmers with a bit more pay, but Nescafe's employees certainly see none of it.

And what do we buy instant coffee for? Simple. Laziness. Idleness. Lethargy. These beans are produced to satisfy the human condition to want everything in the here and now. And people don't know who to brew the damn stuff any more. It's not too hard. A basic coffee pot (the one with the 'plunger' costs about £2/3 out of Asda (Wal-mart). Shove in a measure of beans, fill with water, put on lid and press. That seems more instant to me than any "instant" brands that are currently around. We do not have time to wait on coffee brewing properly, we have no patience to make the perfect cup of warmth. No, we need it fast, regardless of flavour, regardless of chemical input. We'd rather poison ourselves and leave a bitter after-taste in our mouths than drink something that has been proven to be beneficial and medicinal when left in it's ground form. If we satarted to think not of the need for caffiene, but of coffee in terms of economy, integrity, and benefit to the physical earth, I'd rather drink the ground stuff. What's so difficult about shoving some healthy powder in a pot and adding water? Goodness knows what.

And if you insist on buying 'cheap', nasty instant coffee, at least buy Kenco, which IS a fairtrade company. I'd rather see you drinking crappy coffee with a good moral than one without.

~Klone

prelude.

Seeing as everyone else has started doing it, thought I'd set up a blog. I'll probably end up neglecting it, much like I have livejournal, but it's always worth a try.

--So, how's this all gunna work?

Well, every wednesday and saturday I'll write something up. What it is depends on what I'm doing at the time.

--What do i want from you?

Just to read it if you like. I'm not gunna force anyone though.

Anyways, That's that. See you soon!

~Klone