I went looking for Freedom

I went looking for freedom, and found Inspiration, on an autumn night in the darkness beyond the city.

Idleness had birthed laziness, by the evening I was lacklustre. I wanted to write, but it seemed to great an effort. My head felt heavy and oddly numb, as though the surface of my mind had frozen over; preventing the flow of ideas. The forces of procrastination smartly outflanked my concentration, comprehensively routing it; leaving my indecisive and irritable. But I had no patience for any minor distractions, everything I attempted only added to a growing sense of frustration. I felt despondent, trapped mentally. So I put on my trainers, strapped on the Ipod and ran away from the city.

Away from the sirens, alarms and rumbling of traffic. I followed the path of the streetlamps that hung in the air like a trail of phosphorus breadcrumbs, and soon passed beneath the umbrella of artificial-murky light that covered the city centre; erasing the stars from the sky, into the darkness beyond.

Almost two miles, and I reach the church with the abandoned tower and ruined gatehouse, a failing monument to a distant age; with the hidden lights that bring it to life when the day dies. A ghostly guardian standing vigilance over those who will sleep eternally in the grounds to the east, the graveyard creeps into view as I round the corner. Lanterns scattered about the headstones give the impression of a shattered rainbow that has come to rest amongst the dead.

My mind is clearing. Everything is silent, but for the steady beat of my feet upon the road. I focus on my pace, the motion of my body; everything else is forgotten. I can let go, disappear inside myself. Removed from the world I continue to run, utterly at peace. I turn my path and follow the river home; it looks like mercury in the moonlight. A silvery road leading to the city beneath the dome of light at the top of the hill – I am ready to return, I have tasted freedom and thawed the frost that held back my thoughts.

If only I can hold this feeling until I reach home. I have writing to do.

On Insomnia Cont..

Well this is certainly a welcome rarity. I was once more sat, listlessly wishing away another evening that threatens to withhold sleep; and suddenly I find myself equipped with both the desire and motivation to take up my weapon of choice and begin to write, for the second evening in succession.

Perhaps this is a small victory over my eternal nemesis; the demonic-insomniac that so often chases away my hopes for good nights sleep.

Usually upon finding myself under its numbing grasp, my mind is too fractured to string together ideas, or to concentrate for more than the most fleeting of moments, making writing something coherent all but impossible. I have no idea what has changed, but I intend to make the most of it.

No victory such as this can come without a price; tomorrow will be laborious, as was today. I believe I may have managed to sleep for around four hours last night, having woken up earlier than my alarm (on the sofa) to the sound of the city waking up. I dare say tonight will follow a similar pattern. I will, no doubt, by sat here typing away beyond midnight unable to switch of the constant noise between my ears.

I said I hit the wall in yesterday’s entry, and I am certain that was the worst of it; so having now passed it, I must be working my way back into a healthier sleeping pattern. This morning actually found me feeling more refreshed and rested than I have on any other morning this week, such signs tend to foretell the return of sleep. I hope that remains true.

Midnight is drawing in around me. I think perhaps, that I may let this moment of motivation pass and attempt to sleep. Writing this entry appears to have calmed me down, and I think the sandman may be close by.

At least I can enjoy this perfect silence whilst I await him, another rarity; silence in the city. Well, there will be once this computer has shut down.

On Insomnia

Under the glow of a full moon that has illuminated my entire room; I write this entry from bed. I can’t sleep, so I might as well make use of the time. This is the fourth, or fifth restless night in succession. Which is the unmistakeable sign that my old friend Insomnia has returned for a visit.

I can generally tell when Insomnia is going to strike; it almost works it’s way in to my life like a new girlfriend; until it finally feels comfortable enough to leave its toothbrush in my bathroom and starting buying things for the apartment; essentially moving in and taking control. (I’m joking!)

But this time it was different. Perhaps it wanted to keep our relationship fresh and mix things up. It could have just introduced handcuffs to the bedroom, but no. Instead it just arrived quite literally out of the blue hitting me full in the chest; taking the wind from me, and I lay in bed; feeling my tired eyes droop, staring at the darkness trying to recover my breath.

Usually I can hold it together, enough to appear relatively normal, if a little vacant at times. But this week my energy reserves have eroded rapidly, with them have gone my short-term memory, my patience and motivation. Today I hit the wall. I have no idea how I continued to function until I made it home to recover.

Somehow I have managed to find the energy to keep up my running, if only twice a week. The late night circuits of a sleeping city, and jogs along the river under a star filled sky the only positives of this unwelcome visitor. I hate insomnia, but I love the nighttime. I have blogged before on the pleasures of running through the city when everybody is indoors and the lights are mostly switched out; it is so inviting unusual.

A full moon only makes the atmosphere more appealing; I could lose hours staring at it unsure of the reason behind my fascination.

I am sure of one thing, the reason behind this reappearance of my old acquaintance. It has to be stress and anxiety caused from increased pressures at work; also partly excitement from meeting a pretty amazing young lady (Perhaps). That is a good thing, knowing the cause should help me find the means to stop the problem.

But I get the feeling this particular problem can only be prevented, never quashed.

Adieu.

False Start

With hindsight standing over me like an untrusting parent, wearing a smug expression and pointing out all of my prior failings in meticulous detail. I now realise that attempting re-enter the blogosphere foolhardily, at a time when my social calendar was unusually overcrowded, was not the best of ideas. I am already forgetting to update it.

I want this blog to work, and for it to do so I need to redevelop the habit of sitting down for an hour or so, a couple of nights a week, with the intent to blog - and then do just that. That is however, dependent on me having some alone time, and that just hasn’t happened this past week.

The few occasions I had time in which I could have written, were mere interjections between work and an almost constant string social engagements. Which is a polite way of say almost constant drinking sessions. In the space of three months I appear to have turned from serious amateur athlete to part-time party animal. How quickly I gave in to temptation! I would make an awful Jedi. The moment you turn your back I’ll have joined the dark side and be putting an end democracy – with my lightsaber.

Commonsense has won through. I have decided to curtail the late night drinking sessions drastically; I love the company of my friends. But the excessive drinking and partying isn’t really for me. I would like to remain healthy, and really; the only things I like to do in excess are reading and sex.

I feel good for writing this entry. I felt like I had to write and upload something (good or not), if only to prevent a relapse in to inactivity. It has also given me a couple of ideas with regard the future direction of this blog.

Firstly, I’m thinking of creating a new blog and moving all my book reviews and general literature talk over there. Leaving this blog for ‘me and my thoughts and life’ diary style entries. However, the second idea was to cut back on the diary style entries for a while. Instead, I want to try focusing each entry on one theme or subject; rather than just talking with no real point to get across.

Any thoughts?

This Means Nothing To Me

With my work for the day complete and the Bank holiday finally mine to enjoy. I sauntered around the streets of Norwich under the vacant gaze of a lazy summer sun, whose oddly surreal light gave the city an almost ethereal ambience. The humid, sultry atmosphere; through lack of a breeze, making me feel increasingly enwrapped in silken, moist cocoon. It was like being sandwiched between two oiled up sumo wrestlers, the rolls of smooth fat belly massaging my entire body, calming me, soothing me. Enrapture.

I know reader. Hush now. You’re imagining yourself sandwiched between two large, oiled up sumo wrestlers, aren’t you. Their smooth round bellies touching you, caressing you in a way you didn’t think possible. Erotic, isn’t it? Don’t be ashamed. Go with it, I’ll be here when you want to continue.

Thankfully I managed to break free from this confusing episode in my head before I was dragged into the darkened depths of the psyche, by the sirens that offered such sweet reprieve from a life on land.

Awakening to the world around me once more I found myself looking directly at a piece of graffiti that simply said Question Nothing.

A blasé phrase that rings of manufactured rebellion and hints at conspiracy; likely ignored by the vast majority of shoppers, whose attention is shrouded by consumerist urges. On most day’s I would have likely looked through it, or looked at it and questioned nothing. But at that moment, my mind was obviously closer to my writing than I realised because it gave me my antagonist for my current project. Fully packaged.

One thought followed another, and now the central plot has fallen nicely in to place. Which leaves me no excuses, time to get down to the business of writing!

Another example of how inspiration can be lurking in the most unexpected of places, and how the mood of a moment can influence the meaning you draw from the environment surrounding you at the given time.

I am finding inspiration everywhere at the moment; I am seeing my writing everywhere. Be it totalitarian propaganda and rebellious ideals in phrases stamped on sidewalks or walls, characters in people passing by, or entire worlds in the inverted reflection of a teaspoon. What a world in which to be a writer.

Creative Connections

A second post in three days, perhaps I can now call it a comeback. Perhaps.

I thought I could just wander back in as if nothing had happened. Sit down, log in and the words would flow, my place in this little sphere re-established. Especially now, as my head feels like its in the right place to write, if that makes sense.

I am happy, motivated and in competition! A couple of my friends also fancy themselves as writers, and we’ve begun to push one another on; which is excellent. Our first aim is to each get a piece of prose or a short story published in one of the many writing magazines in circulation. This is exactly what I need.

My little circle of creative friends has notably expanded in recent months. It feels as though practically everybody I meet now is writing, drawing, painting, making music or pursuing some other creative venture – and the talent from most is obvious. The energy between people is fantastic; it gives me a real buzz and makes writing so much easier.

But be that as it may, on both occasions when I have sat down to write for this blog I have found it really difficult to start, and then to make it a respectable place in which to end. That could just be down to the prolonged absence from doing it every other day, as I previously was. I have found reading back over the entries of other blogs I follow helpful; if not a little overwhelming.

It didn’t occur to me just how much of other bloggers work I read, until I logged into my reader and noted I had around 300 articles to read – and I will read most of them, time permitting.

I might even make a start now. Au Revoir

Don't Call It A Comeback

Time to bring this impromptu hiatus to an end.

It has been two months since I last introduced these fingers to this keyboard and did my part in growing the blogosphere (for better or for worse). I’m surprised at how quickly I fell out of the habit of updating this site, and generally getting involved with the wider community. It would only have been more sudden if I had died. What a pleasant though to return with! Thats right folks, I may be wearing new glasses but the fascination with death and weird sense of humour remain!

There are no specific reasons behind my absence (so no juicy gossip. Sorry). It just so happens that I have had an eventful summer. Not a particularly interesting one it has to be said. But evidently developments in the wider world have been enough to draw my attention elsewhere, and allow my writing; and in particular this blog, to temporally fall off my radar.

Although typically, as I sit here now attempting to recall the past two months in order to write, my brain shuts down. Perhaps that was what happened – My brain just shut down for two months and everything I thought I did was actually just a dream. Any minute now I’m going to wake up in the shower..

Some events have penetrated the fog of amnesia that currently occupies the space my memory should be at. I turned 25 in July; quarter of a century. My parents were pretty excited, as if it were some well-earned achievement. I wasn’t able to muster the same level of excitement, what did I do to deserve such attention? – Not die. Kudos to me

Birthday aside there was also a promotion, pay rise, a wedding (not mine), birthday celebrations for others, friends leaving, new friends arriving; many of the female variety - Some of those potentially of the girlfriend variety, which is nice.

It feels good to be back.

Adieu.

I can't think of a Suitable Title

Phew. Today was hard work. Mainly due to me being denied entry into club SLEEP by Insomnia who was apparently doorman for the evening. Every time my weary little soul ventured entry, I a received a slap about the face and told ‘No trainers’

At which I protested that they were smart, before realised two things. A: I’m in bed, attempting to sleep and not wearing any trainers – and B: this in my head therefore I can go where I please. My arguments fell on deaf ears, and resulted only in me receiving another slap about the chops; and doubting my own sanity.

I think I eventually managed around 5 hours sleep, not good. Especially when I had to be in the office (on a Bank holiday! – Although I did offer, doh!) for 8am.

Worse still, today was beautifully hot and there was no breeze; which only fuelled the dazed, fidgety and irritable mood that embroiled me (Like reeds on the riverbed, which snare unobservant swimmers and drag them to their watery graves). What a charming image I have thrown at you, no need to thank me. It’s all part of the service.

Thankfully I managed to remain pretty upbeat, if a little distant; and cheered up note ably when my housemate returned home with a new means in which to procrastinate. A nintendo wii - Something I had managed to resist buying up until now, knowing that I would quickly become addicted and spend even less time do the productive things I sometimes think about doing.

I was right. It’s fun, I’m addicted - Goddamit. At least when I now go to visit any of my friends who already have a wii, I won’t be spanked so hard on wii Tennis. Being Captain uber-competitive, I hate losing. But losing wii tennis hurts more than usual, because I can play tennis quite well and those pesky little urchins won’t play me for real!

It is 11:10pm at the time of writing this entry, and I do not feel the least bit tired. Still, I am hoping that if I force myself to bed now I’ll doze off. The last thing I need now is another attack of insomnia! …Perhaps another round of wii boxing will tire me out. Lets go see.

Au revoir.

Everybody's Got To Learn Sometimes

The sun is still shining over my little piece of the world; it’s been there for six or seven days straight now; which is nice, and as it happened, I had booked Thursday and Friday off work as holiday! Perfect timing, not only for the weather but also because I really needed the downtime. Being able to break the monotony if only for a few days has given me time to relax, and strengthen a mood dangerously close to happiness that currently rests over me.

It has also given me time to spend money, something I seem to be doing a lot of recently. I did limit my spending to clothes and books on this occasion, which I think can be passed of as necessities! I should really finish reading the books I already own before buying more, but if I see one on a subject that interests me I can’t stop myself from buying it. Currently my interests are engaged with the French Revolution, the Napoleonic Wars, and the English Civil War, which were the subjects of all but one of the books I picked up. (The one being Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams)

Something else I have had time to do is consider my future. It must be all too apparent to regular readers that I have felt increasingly lost, confused and unhappy with the state of my life in recent months – I have bemoaned the situation and it’s various causes all to often. But I have been acting on those causes as well as bitching about them, and changes have been made, bringing with them small victories; each aiding me along the path back to this happy little state of mind I currently rest within.

Throughout this period of change I have on occasion given thought to switching careers, from finance to teaching. In fact, I have thought on it numerous times over the past two years, but have always brushed it aside as I had no time to retrain.

I now have time, and having spent more time talking about it recently, with friends who teach, I have started to pay more attention to the thought. I have been building up to making a big change in my life all year, but have not been sure what change would be. Perhaps this is it. I love history and literature, and can think of no better career than one in which those subjects feature heavily, and I am able to share my knowledge and enthusiasm.

It is definitely something I will now be considering seriously; I’ve already collected some information on the various ways to go about training and will spend the rest of the weekend looking into it. I have also been looking into taking a couple of advanced language courses to tidy up my French and German, perhaps I could teach abroad?

That would be some time off, best start with getting the training first!

Feeling Good

Part One

Birds flying high you know how I feel – Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Reeds drifting on by you know how I feel – It’s a new dawn it’s a day it’s a new life for me
And I’m feeling good.
*Cue bad Matt Bellamy impersonation and air guitar.

Hello readers, how are you today? I don’t know if it’s down to the thoughts of Dita Von Teese strutting seductively throughout my head, the fact that the sun shone despite the persistent forecast of rain, the return of my mojo OR the valium and vodka cocktail I downed earlier. But I am feeling good.

To think that the day began badly and seemed to grow bleaker with each passing moment, so much so that I was resigned to the fact that this already prolonged spell of (I’m hesitant to say depression, but can think of no better word off hand) would continue to linger. Annoyingly I cannot place exactly what has put me in such good spirits – and I am resisting the urge to go back and analyse the day, I think I’ll enjoy having the motivation and drive back. I would break out in song, but I’m not that happy – and this ain’t no musical.

Sidenote: Greenday’s latest album is growing on me, slowly, and now on with the show.

I picked up a of really interesting looking book today, ‘At Day’s close, A history of night time’ the title is pretty intriguing, and part one ‘The Shadow of Death’ sounds like something I am going to enjoy. My fascination with darkness and death cannot be normal! It’ll be a little time before I get to it though, I’ve three on the go already. Speaking of books, I finished reading Matthew Lewis’s ‘The Monk’. A review follows.

Part Two

The Monk is an intriguing tale of love, lust, murder and hypocrisy; of temptation, obsession and the supernatural. Which makes use of many props familiar to gothic fiction, namely romantic heroic males, persecuted maidens, ghosts, demons and archetypal tyrants. At the centre of all this is the monk; Ambrosio, who is looked upon as a Saint throughout the Madrid in which the story is largely set, and whose downfall and ultimate end forms the central plot.

I really enjoyed reading this book, and found that I actually got through it quite quickly. The plot is smartly paced, but is commonly interjected by various means whether it be a short poem or tale, or of a character recounting some past experience. The relevance of some of the interjecting tales is not obvious, as they offer nothing to the main plot.

But most serve in prolonging the reader wait in learning the consequences of Ambrosio’s increasingly sinful actions; building the suspense and adding further mystery (Or allowing a revelation) to the other characters that play parts in this story, and of events unfolding around Ambrosio.

I think I will read it again. As one particular aspect of the ending jumped out on me unexpected, and I suspect I missed something first time around. A fan of gothic romance or horror would really enjoy this book.

Kiss Kiss Bang

The spectacle of lame that is the Eurovision Song Contest has once more been, left a dirty stain upon Europe like an excited puppy in the kitchen, and run away until next year. I’m not a fan, encase you hadn’t guessed.

I just do not get it – and I still pretend I don’t watch it, but no matter how firm my resolve, I will inevitably succumb to the lure of the young, attractive European ladies in tight short skirts (giggity giggity – giggity goo), Terry Wogan’s in creasing sarcastic, cynical commentary and the blatant political voting of certain countries. It perhaps would not be so bad if our entry was anywhere near the level as it was this time around. I still didn’t like it, but she had a pretty damn good voice and maybe deserved a higher placed finish than fifth. Not that I would complain about finishing fifth, given our recent record of ending bottom or close to it!

That said; I was quite open in my desire to watch this year, if only for Germany’s entry. Those heroes persuaded Dita Von Teese to perform a little routine whilst they sang. Magnifico – My only complaint was that the cameras spent too much time on the singers and not her, how rude. I would have quite happily watch her for three hours and sent the rest of the performer home. But that’s me, and I am unashamedly smitten with Miss Von Teese.

In other news – I went to see the new Star Trek movie this weekend. Wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but I am not really familiar with the original Star Trek series; and remakes or ‘envisioning’ are generally awful. At which point I will move on before I launch in to a rant on how the X-men films could have been so much better. Sigh, such a geek.

Star Trek was fantastic, the casting was spot on, the soundtrack was fantastic; as were the set pieces and plot in general. I liked the route the writers decided to take it leaves the possibilities for sequels wide open (obviously), and they don’t have to worry about straying from established events within the star trek mini-verse, or whatever the fans call it.

I wouldn’t say it has fully converted me, but I’ll definitely be going to watch it again and look forward to the sequel.

The only downside (for a Heroes fan) is that as Zachary Quinto’s career deservedly rockets, his part in Heroes will likely fade away. It doesn’t look like we’ll be seeing much of him in season four thank to the most ridiculous piece of writing the guys behind the show have come up with so far. I love the show, and forgive a lot, but seriously. Nathan/Sylar? Could they not have come up with anything better?

At a Crossroads Pt. 2

As I stated at the top of my last entry, the picture I thereafter proceeded to paint might appear one of desolation and melancholy to some. But my mood has actually taken an up turn in recent days. The feelings of loss and uncertainty are ever present, but I have enough going on in reality to suspend the deeper musings on my life for now.

The interview I mentioned in Dude, where’s my day has been and gone. I am never confident after interviews, I feel – I know I could have given a better show of myself, but I don’t believe I did too badly. I really would like to get the position, but should it not be offered I wouldn’t be too disappointed, other opportunities have since surfaced; and the workload for the role I was interviewed for is rather tall right now. All the better for me should I get it, a perfect opportunity to shine – or sink. I’ll stick to the optimistic outlook!

Unfortunately where opportunity is appearing for me, some of my friends are not as lucky, having been made redundant this week. I can only hope that they find something suitable soon, but I know from experience that decent jobs in this city are a rarity right now. My employer has announced a worldwide reduction in the workforce, but the numbers are relatively small – and we will be parting with contractors and temporary staff, so I am safe for the time being. Should that change I have already decided I will look in moving to Austria, or Switzerland. It is an idea that has steadily grown these past 18 or so months, but my grasp of the German language still has some way to go before any move.

I have since had another thought on the image of the man on the rock by the crossroads. Perhaps he’s not lost at all, perhaps his stop; intentional or not, has given him the chance to reflect upon the journey that has brought him to this point.

At a Crossroads Pt. 1

At the risk of sounding like a battered vinyl - Spinning on an antiquated phonograph in some long lost side street café that smells of cigar smoke and coffee beans; that hits scratches sending the needle back to play the same notes over at such regularity that the locals no longer notice it over the murmur of discourse and clinking of cutlery. I am lost.

Earlier I was thinking; or rather daydreaming (whilst pretending to work). About nothing in particular, wistfully watching time tick away and the daily routine of office life unfold as inevitably as the passing of the time I longed to be making better use of. When my imagination conjured up an image that seems to so perfectly represent me, or perhaps more accurately, seems to so perfectly represent my perception of me. At face value it might appear a portrait of desolation, but its simplicity made me smile (inwardly obviously, if I had smiled in work, the inquisition would have escorted me to the dungeon for interrogation quicker that you can say what the dickens?)

It was a follows. A solitary figure I believed to be me (despite a voice at the back of my head stating otherwise) dressed in a dusty grey shirt; with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, long khaki shorts, well-worn walking boots, and a baseball cap, with a compass hooked to a chain that hung about his neck. Sat on the corner of a large rock, kicking his feet against the uneven stone surface thoughtlessly. In one hand, propped on his leg, a water bottle; half full and in the other a tattered book that at the present engaged his interest. Sand showered a bag at the foot of the rock each time his boots smacked against the rock, slowly burying it.

A path once well traversed and easily distinguishable from the barren plains either side lead past the traveller’s resting place, and branched off into at least three directions. He was lost, or undecided as to what path he might take; his decision would perhaps be based on something he reads in the book. I had a fancy that were the view to shift round I would see the ruins of a once great city lain out behind the traveller. Once standing as a beacon of light and learning, at extremities of a vast empire, no but a monument to a dead people, on the edge of a forgotten wilderness.

I have often likened myself to the protagonists in those romanticised tales of adventure and discovery, set in times before technology shrunk the world and made everything to readily available. When the hero was intelligent, chivalrous, courageous and committed, setting upon achieving his/her goal with such determination that at times, the pursuit of which looked to consume them, as it blinded them to the dangers which always around close by.

I aspired to imitate these heroes because I wanted the adventure, the sense (some even the experience) of danger, and I wanted to have a goal that merely the thought of filled me with the focus and drive to succeed. For a while I was like that, once I discovered the self-confidence to make the first step. I was driven to pursue my goals, and did so at every opportunity, but now that drive seems to have stuttered to a halt. Now I am the traveller in my daydream, to my back the last of my adventures; slowly fading into memory, and before me confusion. The paths are all there, but they seem long and empty, and the effort that would be expelled in traversing them seems too great a price to pay, and so I sit idle. Lamenting my loss of purpose. The little victories that have on occasion dispelled this mood no longer have the desired effect. I need a bigger hit, I need to rediscover that I have apparently lost.

Dude, where's my day?

Well huzzah with big brassy knobs on, the weekend is almost upon us! And I – I have completely forgotten what I was planning to blog about. Bugger me with a fish-fork.

Mental shutdown in progress, please standby for reboot.

Time has quite literally disappeared this week. Which means that either the days have been so alike in their unrepentant monotony that they have all but blurred into one seamless period of time OR - My secretly harboured suspicion that some unnamed government agency drugged me in my sleep; whisked me away to some “non-existent” laboratory, whereupon I was subjected to experimentation before being drugged again and returned to my bed, is in fact, what actually happened.

Personally both options fill me with a degree of fear, but to suggest that this week is to be noted for being devoid of interest is a little misleading, as I have once more been sowing the seeds of change - and change looks imminent. I have an interview for an internal position at work next Tuesday. If I succeed in getting it, I feel it will put me in good stead for further career progression in the not too distant future, so fingers crossed. Should I not succeed, I have been made aware of a few external options that may suit me, so I shall be exploring those over the weekend.

It is these little things that seem to be lifting the melancholy I have unwillingly succumbed to recently, well, those little things and a kick up the ass.

Skipping Stones Across St. Martin's Canal

Alas, could it be; that have I once more fallen prey to the ever lingering embrace of insomnia - Or have the bouts of restless sleep that currently plague me been brought on by a weekend of late nights, drinking, excessive nerdiness, geekery and tomfoolery of the alcohol induced variety? Rhetorical question readers, I think we all know the answer to that one!

I always find bank holidays enjoyable, for a start it is one time my friends are all of work at the same time; which is nice, and there is something about having an extra day or two off work; paid, that just makes me smile. As it happens I did end up in the office for a few hours on Monday, but as I got paid double time for rendering my services I wasn’t too aggrieved; and as some people are struggling to find work right now I’d be a fool to complain. Also, the extra earnings seemed justification enough to spend a little of my hard earned cash in the Bank Holiday sales!

Fortunately for my credit card I did suppress most of my urges and resist the alluring marketing that seemed to suggest if I brought this (Random non-essential piece of shite), I’d be walking home with her (Random non-essential woman, with a large cleavage and a vacant look in her eyes). I did pick up a few movie soundtracks that I have really liked for a while, but have surprisingly never picked up before. Namely that of Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amelie Poulain, which is one of my favourite films; the soundtrack is just as fantastic as the film. It is largely composed on piano and accordion, and always makes me think of Paris in the early summer.

Listening to that got me in the mood to watch the film, again; which in turn, oddly, spurred me into sitting down and watching the Pianist earlier, another of my favourites. I seem to have a mini European film fest going on; maybe I’ll keep it going for the rest of the week. I haven’t watched the copy of Sophie Scholl – The Final Days I brought Monday, and now that I think about it, I wouldn’t mind watching Life is Beautiful.

My, don’t I have a social week ahead of me. I suppose a couple of quiet nights will do me good, if only to get my sleeping pattern back to normal; or at least what passes for normal with me.

Tomorrow It Will Rain Over Bouville

Part Un

I must not have slept well last at all night. As, shepherded by the bleating of my alarm I stumbled dumbly into consciousness; and remained all but dead to the world for most of the morning. It took three cups of strong coffee with sugar, and a snickers flapjack to give me strength enough to break through the barrier of drowsiness and regain the use of my senses.

The caffeine induced high did have some side effects, namely an urge TO DO EVERYTHING NOW “GIVE IT HERE I’LL FIX IT NOW GO AWAY AND FETCH ME A COFFEE…biatch” - and I don’t think I blinked for the best part of an hour.

It will be unsurprising then, for me to state that the day seemed to pass quickly, mercifully so, as my thoughts never strayed too far away from sleep, my bed, sex (can’t help it, I’m a man), and sleep again.

Hmm - Sorry I was just thinking about err (don’t say sex) sex…Goddamit! Moving on.

Yes, the day came and went without incident. The minutes giving way to hours, which blurred, merged together in to one generic mass of absurdity; that has already joined the countless other forgotten ‘nothing days’ that have taken too much of my life up. That said - I did manage to lose my phone and cut myself with a bread knife (twice), so the day hasn’t been totally without incident.

In other news, I finished reading Nausea by Jen Paul-Sartre a few days ago and have finally gotten around to start writing a review, which shall be bolted on to the end of this entry sometime tomorrow.

Unfortunately General Procrastination got his grubby little paws on me and having finally escaped, I realise that it is now too late to finish my review.

Au Revoir.

Part Deux

Nausea is presented as a series of diary entries that offer the reader a look into the world of Antoine Roquentin. A gentleman in his thirties who, after apparently extensive travels, has settled in a fictional coastal town called Bouville (France). Wherein he plans to complete his research on a Monsieur de Rolleban, the intended subject of the book Antoine is writing.

Everything begins to change for Antoine upon the onset of what he describes as the nausea, an affliction that drastically alters his perception of himself and the world around him. The nausea appears seemingly randomly, forcing Antoine to question amongst other things, his own existence, the relationship between himself and his environment and even the nature of time. Eventually creating in him such disgust for existence that he very nearly loses his sanity.

Unsurprisingly existentialist themes are central to the setting and progression of the plot, and as such can be read as a work of philosophy as much as it can be a novel. Which is why I picked it up in the first place, having had my interest in philosophy; existentialism in particular, grow in recent years. However, I will leave the philosophy to one side at this stage; mainly because procrastination has yet again dragged out the process of writing, which is now intruding on my sleeping time – and in this state I would not do it justice.

My favourite element of the story is the character of Anny, Antoine’s ex-love whom he refers to with fondness throughout the book, and eventually meets once more in Paris. Anny as a character is fascinating, but the relationship between the two even more so.

I really love this book, but realise because of its philosophical ideas it will not appeal to everyone. I would however recommend it to anybody that likes to be challenged, or would appreciate the psychological study of Antoine as the Nausea begins to alter his mind.

Spiral Staircase

Bonsoir Mesdames, messieurs et variants là de.

There is nothing like a gentle jog in the rain on a spring evening to clear the mind and relax the body. Not that my jogs stay gentle for long. I rarely resist the urge to push myself by settling in to a pretty demanding pace for as long as I can handle it – and then trying to go faster. I am like that in most of my activities; to the point where my competitive nature is out shadowed by my own desire to beat myself. I don’t know where this appetite for self-destruction has come from.

Perhaps it was born out of my desire to grow as an individual. I feel that I have yet to find my limits; mental, physical or even spiritual (despite having attempted to test myself in varying degrees), and I believe I am missing out on some aspect of life that will remain hidden to me until I am able to really know myself and define the edges to my character. The thought that I might never reach a stage where I feel, well, complete I guess, is a genuine concern for me; as odd as that may sound. I am relentless driven by the desire to be more intelligent, fitter, faster and stronger; and am continuously feeding an insatiable thirst for more knowledge and life experience.

Suffice to say, this goal I have set myself; and the ongoing attempts at self-improvement have all but consumed me. Removed me from the world of reality and popped me down in central Carlsville, population one, a world that was built to revolve around me. I am talking in metaphors, obviously, in response to a rather awkward truth, which has hit home during the course of recent events. The mostly single-minded pursuits of my goals, and perhaps the feelings that have grown in the time that I have been single, have made me rather selfish. I have grown accustomed to being alone. This is not something like I like, and I am determined to revert this change in my personality, but have succumbed to musing many things about me, my life and more; which at current is leaving little if any time for action.

I have been in this mood since the funeral, which has evidently had an impact on me in a way I hadn’t expected. The entire build up, for me, was readying myself to face something profound. I wanted to be effected; I wanted to find something in the face of death that would help my better understand life. But all I have come away with is more questions. It was a nice service, not that I have another to compare it to, and I was glad to see the relief it brought to certain members of the family. The grief they expelled during the service seemed to lift their spirits and bring finality to the affair, which is good.

But I just have to be different, whereas the funeral marked a moving forward for the rest of my family, it began a period of looking back for me. It just happened to coincide with my first steps back in to the realm of dating, which itself has thrown up all sorts of questions and issues for me to contend with.

Both events have made me realise just how fragile our little worlds are, and how the slightest thing can bring them crashing down; or even extinguish them completely. My world has changed, it’s daunting, but; as always, change is necessary for progression and I don’t want to be alone anymore.

Defeat Is Always Momentary

Previously on CitizenErased05.blogspot.com...

In defending the world from successive assaults by the armies of Insomnia, Melancholy and Despair our young hero is left powerless and broken. With his mind in pieces, and his soul all but flattened, Citizen Erased looked set to stumble down the path to self-destruction – thus handing ultimate victory to the forces moving against him.

But with his strength and powers eventually returned, young Citizen Erased overcomes the massed armies laid out against him, and sets in motion events that bring him face to face with his ultimate nemesis. General Procrastination.

With a new edge to his resolve, a focused mind, and an imagination positively burning, Citizen Erased is poised to spring into action…

and now, the conclusion...

..anytime now.

What the dickens?

Citizen Erased: Oh, sorry I was just procrastinate-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Fail.

Hello readers. It would seem the war against procrastination is destined to continue for some time yet (so much for my review of Nausea). I hope you are faring better in your own battles.

It is the Funeral tomorrow. I have also said I would be back in the city to celebrate a birthday; ironically, and then I have a meal booked with some other friends & colleagues later in the evening. It is going to be an exhausting day, but my comrade by the name of Vodka will be with me. Together we shall be victorious!

Bonne nuit, dames et monsieur

Spark In The Dark

Bonsoir readers. This entry is brought to you with the glorious, inspiring, all-encompassing sounds of JS Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor filling my room at a level that might possibly annoy my neighbours. What a fantastic piece of music, it’s the first track on a pretty cool album I found today entitled Halloween - Which is a collection of atmospheric, dark, pieces of music by various composers. It feels a little peculiar playing something that feels distinctly nocturnal when the sun is still shining outside!

Not that a little thing like that has diminished its effect. I put it on as background noise to help me concentrate, but I am spending more time actively listening to that, than typing this. It’s pretty impressive; like a gothic fantasia meets the nutcracker prince (who is also going through a ‘goth stage’) meets Tim Burton’s imagination, meets the musical score to Harry Potter, meets Nightwish. Magnifico! The more enthralled I allow myself to become, the happier my mood.

I had planned on this entry being a weekend recap and a review of Nausea by Jean Paul Sartre, which I finished the other day. But this album has really ignited my imagination. As I sat back in my chair, closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift, to become consumed by a growing sense of a familiar darkness, I found myself in a place I haven’t visited for some weeks, perhaps in months. My thoughts arranged themselves in an orderly queue, and the words flowed with ease. An evasive ending to a promising short I had practically given up on, presented itself; and all but jumped out of my head on to the page.

Sleep will not come to me tonight, I have already conceded as much. But if this surge of creativity holds up then I will excuse myself this one slip. I have after all fallen back into a ‘normal’ sleeping pattern, which is having nothing but good effects. It has given me the energy to start phase two of my life-readjustment. Phase one began in January and saw me systematically cut out anything (and anyone) in my life that was having more of a negative effect on me than a positive one, to coincide with a new(ish) job and a new outlook in life.

It was a sudden and quite drastic move (not so much in the case of people, I’m not that rude). But it was one that I felt I had no choice but to take, if I wanted to set my life back on a path that was in my control. It has been successful, less stress; fewer distractions and more free time have really allowed me to focus on the more essential aspects of my life. I did lose my way recently, as I have documented, but that has passed and so into the second phase - The final battle with procrastination

I feel like David going up against Goliath, such is my tendency to procrastinate. Although progress is being to be made, I have cut down the amount of time I spend online in the evenings; my fascination with facebook has waned, the Xbox hasn’t been switched on for at least four days. Well, except to watch family guy whilst eating dinner – but that doesn’t count! It cannot be coincidence that I am reading a lot more, and spending more time exercising. But that’s only a good thing.

Speaking of good things – I have a surge of creativity to aim at my other writing. So I bid thee farewell, dear reader.

Strange Days

This entry is brought to you by Corduroy Pillows – They’re making head waves!

Well hello there readers. How has this week been for you? I for one am quite glad to bid it farewell. Although to my relief it does end with me in a much better state of mind than the one in which I languished at it’s dawning. Which is nice.

A few early (ish) nights, and some downtime have really helped me regain control of myself. The fact that today also brought resolution to a few of the larger concerns in my life has also aided the recovery. I would speak more of those, but time is short and they are boring. So onward!

Alas all is not fine just yet, the funeral is next Friday; and I am visiting the parents this weekend, so there are some - Strange? Days ahead. Mind you, everyday is strange in its own way.
I’m not sure how I will feel on Friday. I have never been to a funeral before. As I mentioned in a previous post, the members of my family that have died in my lifetime, have done so when I was too young to attend their funerals; I have not yet had cause to look death in the face. Actually, there have been a few occasions when my own life could have ended abruptly, but those are tales for another time. It will be an interesting experience none the less, and one I feel I should embrace. After all, it is experience that teaches us, defines us. Perhaps gazing upon death firsthand will offer some answers on life? It is unlikely that those answers will be so clearly defined, but the time it will allow for contemplation will prove useful. Though not all my thoughts will be on myself, both my brothers and sister have agreed to go, given how shaken up they have been I’ll be keeping an eye on them.

A Fleeting Happiness?

I certainly hope not. Hello readers. My rickety little ship seems to have found calm water and I have set a course out of the sea of despondency.

Perhaps some mental victory was won in the night? I definitely feel as though I was at war with something between the intermittent periods sleep that befell me. I have not been so restless in a long time. I lost count of the times I was expelled, half conscious, from a dream back into my room, before falling headfirst into another. It must have been partly due to the humidity last night, I remember waking at one point; thinking I was burning up and that all the bones in my arm had melted, leaving a limp appendage that flopped over the edge of the bed. I had obviously been laying on it, and made it go numb. A point I realised after a few minutes panicking as I desperately tried to straighten arm with my other hand. That made me laugh, and everybody else who happened to over hear my retelling of it.

As this point it occurs to me that you may misconstrue the comment about a ‘limp appendage flopping over the edge of the bed’ should that be the case, for shame!

We’ll have none of that here. Well – Okay, maybe a little!

Moving on, or rather back, to the crux of this entry. I need to make the most this calm spell, because it cannot last, the winds will pick up and waves of woe waylay me before I reach the safety of the shore.

At least I’m thinking straight; I seem to have lost my head a little in the last few days.

It’s times like this that I am glad I blog, sometimes it does inadvertently reveal more about me than I might care for. But I kind of like that, I generally sit down to write these entries late in the evening and type on impulse, not really editing until the following day (and then only to correct spelling mistakes and grammar). I find it interesting to see what I was thinking, and surprising at how much I forgot I thought.

If I could only apply the discipline and effort I put into this blog to my other, maybe one-day moneymaking, writing. I need a muse. I need somebody to kick me up the ass, to bounce ideas off; somebody to inspire me, perhaps without even realising. I need somebody to have late night discussions on the universe, on life, death. I have the urge to write again, typically it shows itself right at the point when I want to switch off and sleep.

I needn’t worry; I think it might be sticking around for a while. It seems as though now my thoughts are straightening out I’m finding myself with a whole host of ideas and am drawing inspiration from quite a wide range of sources. Perhaps I need to rethink my requirements in regards to a muse. Perhaps somebody to kick me into action will suffice.

A Certain Sadness

Hello readers. I hope you all had an enjoyable Easter.

Mine was eventful. I got the call late Friday evening, if you have been reading my older entries you will already know what’s coming. My grandmother died. One of my brothers called as the parents were on route to the hospital, it was odd. I honestly knew what was coming the moment I looked down at my phone and saw it was my brother calling, the fact that he immediately handed me over to my other brother who could barely talked, confirmed it.

That moment seemed so absurd to me, because despite being pretty messed up already (refer to my previous entry The Night I Lost My Head) I was, at that time, in the middle of arranging a date. I had found somebody new, somebody outside the monotony. Somebody who might help me take my mind off everything else, and with that the prospect that I might find the mental resolve to fight back against the veil of depression that was refusing to be dislodged.

I tried my best to give some comfort to my brother, but I could not find the words. We did manage an exchange before ending the call. I felt, feel, so guilty. I hate to think of my brothers or sister upset, or in pain. I knew they were, but could do nothing about it – I have failed them, many times and again in not being around to offer better support when it was really needed.

Needless to say, the repercussions of this news have dominated my weekend. But nothing official can be completed until tomorrow, because all of the offices were closed due to a double Bank Holiday.

There was one period in which I managed to find some peace. I decided, perhaps selfishly, to go on the date. I was toying with the idea of postponing right up until a few hours before, but I just needed the chance to escape; if only for a few hours, that I went. I’m glad I did. I wasn’t able to put all of my troubles to one side, but the weight was reduced enough for me to recover somewhat and enjoy it.

Unfortunately that respite seems to have been all to brief, as the weight is now firmly back around my shoulders as the monotony of the corporate machine sucks away more of my soul. I am all but drained physically and mentally, and now I have the prospect of somebody new coming into my life in quite a major way. I feel guilty because I think they could be good for me; and perhaps I for her, but I’d rather not subject anyone to this. It’s not fair.

But where to go from here? First and foremost I need to rest, to really relax and recharge my batteries. I need time to think and clear my head, to look at things logically and tackle them one by one. I am so tempted to hop on a plane and do it elsewhere. But I don’t want to run away now, a trip across the continent might cure my wanderlust but it will not solve my problems.

I'll start tomorrow.

The Night I Lost My Head

I used to be indecisive, now I’m not sure.

That line could not be truer of me right now. I am lost readers, I really am.

I began this week so full of gusto and determination, a quarter of the year had managed to slip by me unnoticed and I wasn’t about to waste any more of it. Yet as I sit here now, all motivation, all feeling - has been exorcised from me, I am completely empty. What makes it worse is that I cannot point the finger of blame at any one person or event and shout heathen, be gone foul demon (and then chase them with a pitching fork), because I have no idea what has reduced me to this state.

In all likely hood it will have been a combination of things, the current unrest I am experiencing at work, the pressure my family is currently under with a death looming, attacks of Insomnia, and the recent bout of wanderlust has not helped; having only exasperated my sullen mood. As my longing for more exotic climates and adventure gave birth to a hatred for the monotonous, pointless existence I currently lead. Some of that anger is escaping in the direction of people close to me, which is causing me to withdraw in fear of snapping and damaging any relationship, (I guess that shows some part of me still cares enough not to completely self destruct). Whereas I am merely distancing myself from my friends, I am completely losing interest in those ‘acquaintances’ and general faces that mill about around the peripheries of my little world. Each day sees me withdraw deeper into my head and further away from reality, I know I should be fighting against it, but I just don’t care. All the joy has been ripped out of my life, and I am finding it really hard to recover it.

So far, so simple, but the fun doesn’t end there. Up to this point I have ignored the other effects of this most wondrous cacophony of gloom. I wake up tired, having apparently not slept properly, despite forcing myself into early nights, (finding the motivation to just get up is becoming somewhat burdensome). Most of the time I am walking around with so many thoughts screaming at me, that my head feels heavy; as though encased in ice. Coherent thought is becoming a luxury, gained only after multiple coffees and a fight to concentrate on any one thing for more than a few seconds. That has lead to my current flow of creativity stuttered abruptly.

The only time I seem to have a clear head right now is when I am running, and running so hard my heart is thrashing against my ribcage and my legs burn under the strain. Yet whilst all this is threatening to pull me into a pretty messed up place, I seem have become incredibly aware of myself and to seemingly random details of my surroundings. Colours will appear more vivid for no apparent reason, contrasts between textures, size and distance become more pronounced. I have become fascinated by the sky; I think I spend more time looking at it, than at where I am going. Especially when I am running (good combination, I’ve almost ran into three moving cars so far).

Yesterday evening I ran along the river under a full moon that sat proudly in an otherwise clear sky. The sun hadn’t long been down so the sky was that dark aquamarine colour, that tends to follow a warm day; and the buildings in the distance were just beginning to disappear into the expanse above. I slowed down to watch the reflection in the water, which was almost as still at the sky. The sight was so serene, and so inviting that for a moment I was able to forget everything.

I flicker of content in a sea of despair. That’s all I need to find a way through.

Wanderlust

Stifled inspiration and wanderlust have all but obliterated any coherent thought over the last few days. It all began with the most un-notable of moments.

I had just about finished my lunch break. I put the book I was reading down (Nausea, Jean-Paul Sartre) and took a moment to watch the way the sunlight crept into the canteen; which was empty but for me, and etched patterns into the surface of the metal tables that shifted as the clouds past in front of the sun.

Out of nowhere I was overcome with an urge to write, I don’t recall having anything particular in mind, just that I had to write something; anything. I felt as though I could turn my mind to any of the projects I have ongoing, and finish them in no time at all. Unfortunately I was right in the middle of a working day, and could not exactly go back to my desk and starting working on a short story or novella; something tells me that I may have had questions asked of my performance.

I was able to subdue the urge, but that only succeeded in triggering a desire to start drawing. Then, as the sun swam into the office and I could feel the warm air through the open windows, my mind packed up and ran away in to memories of places I have passed through.

I floated away in a daydream, outstretched on the top deck of a floating diner; ambling along the Danube soaking up the sights and the sun. Then I was transported to Rome, where I looked down on the city from the ramparts of the Castel Sant’Angelo; with Verschaffelt’s Angel looking down on me. I was reminded of the time I spent in the Carmargue Region, Arles, Port-Carmargue, Aigue-Mortes, watching the flamingos from a hillside; sketching away contently. Or sat in the walled city, watching the people pass by whilst my friends discussed our next destination. Before finally finding myself in Saint Helene and Nice, cuddling up under a palm tree as a storm flashed up out of nowhere, as locals and travellers alike fled for cover around us.

Oh sweet memories. They only fuel my desire to embark on more adventures!

I find it a little strange, how the arrival of some really nice weather has led to me wanting to leave these shores as soon as possible. I think holidays will be booked this weekend, lucky I’m working some overtime at the office to pay for them!

Conversely, now I am home; and in a position to write, I find myself struggling to work on anything other than this entry. Damned inspiration, why does it persist in striking me down in the moment I cannot act upon it?

My muse obviously takes pleasure in my pain. The Bitch.

Pain for Pleasure

Pain, suffering, death I feel. Something terrible has happened. Young Citizen erased is in pain, terrible pain.

Okay, perhaps that was a little over dramatic (not to mention geeky) way to begin his entry; but admit it. You love Yoda, who doesn’t? Well, the Emperor I guess. But lets move on. I have managed to pick up another injury, the second this year, again through pushing myself too hard in training. A muscle strain and hamstring combo meant I was on a road trip to painsville. I had to strap my left calf up with pressure bandages so I could walk on it, which was fun. It isn’t a major problem, so hopefully I will be training again soon. I get bored when I’m not pushing my mind and body to the brink of destruction! …I have issues.

In other news, Gordon Brown hosted the latest G20 conference London yesterday; which seems to have been largely successful. The majority of the headlines prior to the meeting were concerning the rifts between the “Franco-German Alliance” and the US & UK over financial regulatory measures and further borrowing to stimulate the economy; with President Sarkozy (France) supposedly ready to walk out on the conference if it did not yield solid results. Thankfully it did not come to that. In fact, both he and Chancellor Merkel (Germany) praised the outcome of the conference.

The big headline grabber was the news that secretive tax havens would now face sanctions and tougher regulation. Already the OECD (Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development) has begun to name and shame non-cooperative havens, it will be interesting to see how that story develops. It was also announced that Bankers pay and bonuses will be more stringently regulated (no surprise there), and that hedge funds will now fall within the global regulatory net. I believe agreements were also made to introduce more uniform accounting practices, and to develop a common approach in regard to cleaning up Banks toxic assets.

Jon Stewarts (The Daily Show) take on the American coverage of the event was as hilarious as ever, drawing attention to the amount of reporting that was invested in following Michelle Obama’s fashion choices, and the overly enthusiastic coverage of certain news-anchors to the Obama’s meeting the Windsor’s.

We need a news channel in the style similar to those in America! One where the news anchor gets emotional and excited over the news, a channel where every big story is accompanied by its own theme tune and a crazy amount of graphics showing as many statistics, in as many ways as possible.

Daysleeper

Hello readers. It feels like an age has past since my last entry. I can put that feeling down to the familiar effects of sleep deprivation (having not had a good nights sleep since last Thursday). The late nights over the weekend were through socialising, which is a slightly better reason for not sleeping than the usual pointless acts of procrastination I am apparently addicted to.

I seem to be handling it relatively well; although I do occasionally come to the realisation that I have just been swept away on a daydream. Afterwards I always become paranoid that I may have been talking to myself, but as nobody has started to avoid me at work I’m assuming I haven’t gotten that bad just yet!

That said; my short-term memory and concentration are beginning to deteriorate rather quickly. So tonight I will be going to bed early, and if sleep doesn’t come naturally my housemate has a mallet!

The weekend was a fun filled few days of vodka, geekery and a pretty awesome Australian Grand Prix. It’s good to see Jensen Button land a victory, and hopefully we will get a few more this season. He has made a few mistakes in his career, but he is a quality driver and deserves more (in my opinion). Yesterday evening I went to see Knowing, starring Nicholas Cage and directed by Alex Proyas (The Crow, Dark City and I, Robot).

In 1959 a group of school children load a time capsule with drawings of what they think the world will look like 50 years later. In 2009 the capsule is opened and the contents distributed amongst the current class of children. Caleb Koestler, the son of MIT Professor and Astrophysicist John Koestler (Nicholas Cage) is handed a sheet of paper containing line after line of numbers. The numbers appear random, but John soon uncovers a pattern, realising that the numbers show the time and place of every major disaster since 1959, three of which have yet to occur.

What then follows is the journey John undertakes in attempting to save lives and come to terms with his almost existentialist beliefs (that there is no grand meaning to life; it is all merely the result of millions of random occurrences), could be wrong and that every event is predetermined by a higher power.

Overall the film was pretty good, in fact I though the first half was fantastic. I expected it to be visually pleasing, having seen most of Alex Proyas previous films; and I wasn’t disappointed on in that aspect. The disaster sequences really made an impact, especially the first one. But I began to lose interest rapidly when the truth surrounding the “whispering men” began to unravel.

I don’t want to spoil it for anybody that hasn’t gotten around to seeing it yet, so I’ll not go into any further detail. Suffice to say my personal views don’t agree with the ending. I’d have found it better if the film ended when the event foretold at the end of the sequence of numbers played out.

It is definitely worth watching, and I think I’ll probably buy it n DVD to watch again; because despite not agreeing with the side of the argument the film takes, it is well made and entertaining.

Insert Motivation Here

Well this week has certainly passed quickly. Conversely, I realised today just how much of the year has already been ripped from beneath my feet. We roll into April next week and I have yet to accomplish any of the targets I have set myself for 2009. In my defence, few were in the first half of the year, but still. The fact that I have achieved so little thus far concerns me. Hopefully I can use the surge of motivation this little realisation has created to get things moving again.

At least my physical training is going well. The injuries I managed to pick up earlier in the year have given me no trouble for about three weeks now, meaning I have been able to build up to running a 6 mile circuit every other day at a pretty decent pace. I have decided to stop rowing for the short term, and contrite on mountain biking and endurance trekking/climbing challenges. (One of my goals for this year is to get an adventure racing team together and to compete in a couple of events before the end of the year).

I have had my interest in science re-ignited over the last few days, particularly in regard to Genetic engineering and Synthetic Biology so expect an entry or two on In Pursuit of Progress within the next few days. I am currently fascinated by the idea of being able to extract DNA from one organism and isolate a specific gene; which allows for a specific trait (e.g. luminosity) and then transfer the gene into a fertilized egg of another organism, which will then adopt the new gene and grow to have the trait taken from the source organism. Although whenever I begin to think about this subject I continually find myself conjuring up images of an army of flying monkeys.

On a side note, I seem to have fallen back in to the habit of not sleeping properly. I thought I might be facing another bout of Insomnia, but realised it was more a case of putting off going to bed in favour of doing random things, which in all honestly are either pointless or could wait until the next day. I had a discussion about this with a colleague today who has similar issues. We came to the conclusion that we are the products of a 24hour society, and so should move to a 24hour city. Norwich doesn’t exactly do much after 6pm. Generic, idiot filled nightclubs aside.

Maybe I should follow in the words of the Wombat and move to New York, because I’ve got trouble with my sleep.

Goodnight readers.

Actually, it has just gone midnight. Good morning readers!

Sound of Silence

Hello readers my old friends,
I’ve come to talk to you again,
Because this entry slowly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was walking,

A little homage to Simon and Garfunkel, if you don’t get it, check this video out.

Already my mini-break is drawing to its end, (why is it time off work passes so quickly?) and only now are the grey skies and rain making way for a little sunshine. Better late than never I suppose. The weather may have put me off embarking on any trips beyond the edge of the city, but I have still managed to put these past three days to good use. I checked in with a few of the recruitment agencies to read up on some new vacancies, and to keep my name from dropping too far down their lists of candidates. I have been writing, which is good, and have gotten a fair bit of reading in too, managing to finish both Dead Souls, which I shall review shortly, and the third of The Dark Tower series. I can’t decide what to start next, Nausea (Jean Paul Sartre), The Monk (Matthew Lewis) or Moby Dick (Herman Melville).

I also managed to give the apartment a good clean yesterday, not that you’d know that now. It both astounds and annoys me how quickly things become untidy, at times I feel like Isidore fighting the endless war against kipple (Blade Runner).

When it wasn’t raining I took a few walks along the river, which I haven’t done for awhile. Walking is my new method of fighting writers block, and it seems to be working pretty well, it also doubles up as exercise, which is always good.

On a side note, I have moved the entry entitled Tech talk #1 my new blog (In Pursuit of Progress); which will deal exclusively with technology, the Internet and science. I had planned in having a weekly feature here, in which I would talk about gadgets and the like. But after reviewing the first few entries I had planned on uploading, I realised that they just didn’t gel with the running themes I seem to have established here. So two blogs it is. Today’s entry is about Web 2.0-generation sites, and my latest discoveries.

Anyway, on to Dead Souls, which is considered one of the great works of 19th century Russian literature, despite being unfinished. It was written in three parts, but Gogol destroyed part three before his death, and part two finishes mid-sentence. I am undecided about how I feel toward it. I started reading, as I do with all books, with eagerness and an open-mind, but could not bring myself to enjoy it as much as I thought I should be.

The plot centres on the exploits Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov, a middle class gentleman retired from civil service. He arrives in a small provincial town, and quickly establishes himself as the toast of the landowners and officials alike through extravagant gestures, charm and flattery. He then sets off on a scheme to buy (or gain by way of gift) the deeds to any dead souls the landowners are burdened with.

(Prior to 1861, Russian landowners were allowed to own serfs who would farm their land. These serfs were considered the property of the landowners and could be brought, sold and mortgaged. Classed as a chattel, Serfs were taxable – should any die, the tax still had to be paid until the next official census was completed and the dead serfs recorded.)

It is essentially a get rich quick scheme, which inevitably does not go to plan; and it is when things begin to unravel for Chichikov that I began to enjoy the book a lot more. Gogal wrote this as a satire, and there are many moments in the various exchanges of dialogue between Chichikov and the landowners that brought a smile to my face, drawing attention to the absurdity of certain aspect of society.

I would suggest it be read, if asked. But I doubt I would actively recommend it, not until I have re-read it a few times and perhaps have a better appreciation for it.

Time Is Ticking Out

Hello readers. Today I am churning out two entries for your reading pleasure due to the introduction of a new weekly feature, Techtalk, in which I’ll (obviously) be talking about technology. But I don’t want to dissuade any of my regular readers that stop by to read my ‘normal’ posts; so I will upload one such post after each Techtalk. Aren’t I a nice guy?

Don’t answer that, rhetorical question : )

So. The sunshine and cloudless skies we have been experiencing over here in the land of the Eng’s was today replaced with rain and, as I type, hail. Which was exactly the sort of weather I hoped for this week, as I am off work. Note sarcasm.

Needless to say, I didn’t venture out too far; other than to the mall for a little window-shopping, a coffee and some lunch. So today has been largely one of reading, watching daytime tv (which is as appalling as I remember from my days of not working, oh to be a student again!) and gaming. Between which I did check in with the agencies for any job vacancies that I may like the look of, and there are a few, so I’ll be heading to their offices tomorrow.

That largely sums up my day, as exciting as it was. Oh wait; I did do some cleaning, how could I neglect such an enthralling part of my day? Such is the joy of living alone. Well, not alone exactly, but my housemate is away until tomorrow. Eh, you get the point.

My weekend was more noteworthy, I already blogged about Saturday (Trippin’ to Chillville). Sunday was Mothers day in the UK (apparently the US celebrate it in a fortnight), so as is customary I hopped on a train and went to see the means of my creation, or “parents”, as they are sometimes referred to as.

You may remember reading my entry Thru the Glass, in which I talked about a grandparent being diagnosed with terminal cancer. It was the first and last time I had brought that up in this blog, but I visited her yesterday for the first time since I heard the news, as various implications of both parts have meant I couldn’t sooner.

It was a strange meeting in many ways - Once again as I approach this subject, the words seem to have deserted me. The ending of this entry is taking quite awhile, and numerous attempts.

She has become so thin and frail that to look at her gives the impression that she must be in pain, a suspicion backed up when your eye falls upon the large basket of medication she is currently on. It is easy to imagine why people fear death when faced with somebody so close to the end. I think the fear may be as much of the thought being so weak, vulnerable and reliant on others, than the idea of no longer existing as part of this world, or any world.

There were quite a few of us there, the mood was generally upbeat; awkward silences were thankfully short and far between. My younger brother was impressive in steering past these moments, and I saw a side of him I had never witnessed before. I was concerned he may have been having trouble coping, but now I am confident he has grown stronger.

I think I will bring this entry to a close on that, those last few mini-paragraphs have taken me about half an hour to write, I don’t think the words are going to come to me tonight.

Trippin' to Chillville

Experience is what you get, when you didn’t get what you wanted.

Well hello there readers, how-you doing? What is this you’re thinking; a post on the weekend? Why, what trickery is this?

Aye, rest easy traveller. Thar be no foul play here, pull up a chair and take the weight of ye feet.

I couldn’t leave this blog until next week with my previous post being the first thing to greet you all. Nobody needs that negatively, so here is something more positive to balance it out.

Today has been pretty good. The sun shone warmly over a clear blue sky; the city was really lively; but not uncomfortably overcrowded, and everybody seemed to be in high spirits. It was the perfect day in which to take the train out to the coast, but I alas, I did have to stop by the office for a few hours this morning. If you read my last entry, you would be unsurprised to hear that I wasn’t particularly enthused at that, but this is a happy post; and what follows are the reasons.

My little stint today proved most beneficial. After a discussion with a few of my superiors from the new department, it emerged that the news I received in the week was incorrect, and it would be looked into next week as a priority. So I could well be staying after all, which is awesome. But I won’t get my hopes up just yet, because my skills are needed in the other department so it may well come down to the two department heads playing paper scissors rock. Either way, I will have a definite answer. Excellent.

That put me in a brighter mood. I escaped the office in time to meet a couple of friends for lunch and a few games of MtG (magic the gathering); yes. I am a geek, should that fact have evaded you this long. As there was no wind, we got to play outside, in the beer garden beside the river; which was nice. (One downside to having geeky hobbies is that they tend to indoors affairs, and I like the sun). We were eventually forced to retreat inside as the sun slowly sank, the air took on a decisive chill and we realised the bar we had been drinking in for the past few hours wasn’t going to show the Wales v Ireland Six Nations match, which meant a quick relocation to one that did.

Tense match - I thought Wales might sneak the win to begin with, but didn’t think it would be by the 13 points they need to win the tournament over Ireland. The fact that they (Wales) lost 17-15, and ended up fourth behind England and France is a little harsh. But then I am English so in truth I don’t particularly care. Second is pretty good, considering the English team were the fourth best (maybe third best, the French seemed a little schizophrenic) team of the tournament.

It was good to have a day like this; I feel really good for having had a chance to unwind. With everything that has been going on recently it seems as though these days are few and far between. But as I sit now; reclining in my chair, keyboard on lap; occasionally taking a drag on my water pipe between scattered bursts of typing; with a random euphoric dance mix playing on shuffle and my mind wandering in distant fields, I’m not thinking much further ahead than when I should consider turning in for the night.

I sure I’ll be able to work more downtime into my schedule. I do after all have most of next week off, so hopefully the sun will stay so I can hop on a train to find myself a change of scenery.

Feel Good Hit of the Summer

Bonsoir, mes plus chers lecteurs. My last entry drew to a close with comments on some little adventures I had begun planning for this year.

I’m fortunate to have a whole six weeks (plus bank holidays) paid leave this year, score! So have I have decided that after a few trips to the Lake District, I’m off to Italy for a little island hopping; and trekking over some volcanoes (including Mt Etna), As well as either a weeks climbing in the Alps, or more of an easy sighting week trekking along the Amalfi Coast and up Mt Vesuvius.

Hopefully I’ll get a trip to Romania in the later half of the year, but currently I like the idea of spending some time in Morocco and climbing in the Atlas Mountains. I’ll make a decision on those two after speaking to my fellow adventurers again next week.

I love these little trips, they always motivate to train harder; and help keep my mood up. Something I am currently finding quite hard, despite repeating my little news year’s resolution mantra (See UNO) most mornings to myself, like a crazy man. The reasons for that are those that I have mention in some of my most recent entries, the foremost, over the last two days at least, has been work. I have been quite happy, generally, having moved departments at the beginning of the year. I have taken to my new role with great enthusiasm, and have worked really hard in both building my knowledge of my new role, and building good relationship with my new colleagues. From all accounts I have apparently exceed expectations, the knowledge of which has only spurred me on further. Until yesterday, when I learn that there is a very good chance I will be recalled to my old role, in my old department – because they now realise my skills would be of good use there.

Fucking fantastic, how is that for irony? I stick at a job I hate for over a year because the benefits are good enough to prevent me leaving, but that are not enough to stop me hating what I did. I had no motivation other than to do the bare minimum, collect my paycheque and ignore everything else involved with the company.

I was a disillusioned employee that hated my job, and was motivated only to do the bare minimum, cared for nothing other than getting my pay check (the benefits were just good enough to keep my from quitting), I hardly spoke to those I worked with; because I was generally pissed off – Then, I am asked to lend a hand (permanently) to another department who have just adopted new it systems and working practices, I agree because I don’t care.

But after only a few days I became almost a model employee. I loved the new challenge, worked as hard as I could; sough out knowledge to help me improve, gave up parts of my evenings and weekends to help the department meet its goals. I did everything that was asked of me, and more; willingly – and now, three months on, it looks as though because of my performance, and experienced, they want to put me back. I am so annoyed right now, I have expressed as much to my superiors; in both departments (which went down well in the old one) so we’ll see what happens. I have a few days off, so I’ll not be certain of my future until next Thursday. Right now I am pretty certain if they insist on sending me back, I’ll be handing in my notice – but that is a little rash. I need to sit down and weigh everything up before acting.

Phew, sorry to throw that one in your face readers. I bet you weren’t expecting that when you began reading! I wans't expecting it when I began writing. If it is any consolation, I do feel better for getting that out.

Moment of Tranquility

Howdy-do readers. Happy St. Patrick’s Day to all my Irish readers, all one; maybe two, of you! As usual most of the bars and pubs in the city have been adorned in various green decorations, leprechauns have made an appearance, and everybody seems determined to down at least one pint of Guinness as if it is a sacred duty, despite not being Irish. I was tempted to join them, but I haven’t been able to face a pint of the black stuff since a recent trip to Belfast. During which time I may have drunk my own body weight in it. Amazingly I managed to walk back to the hotel, get undressed and clamber into the shower before dying. At which point I think we’ll leave that particular story!

One final St Patrick’s Day comment, I found a pretty good video on you tube, taken at the St Patrick’s Day Parade in Chicago – HERE. They dye the river green for the day, which is pretty cool.

The novelty of today aside, this week has proved to be rather tiresome, mainly because I seemed to have knocked my body clock out synch, by doing a little overtime in the office on Sunday morning. What a smart idea that was! At the time it was actually quite enjoyable; the office was without the usual chorus of people talking, feet stomping, fingers typing and printers, eh – printing? (I started so well). It was, dare I say; fun, with just a few of us dotted about a building in which hundreds usually work. Although it did become increasingly difficult to resist the urge of using my chair like a bobsled and rocketing along the office. Luckily my will is like tempered steel! …Until a woman bats her eyelashes in my direction. So weak – I hang my head in shame!

Anyway. The city was also quiet, as you might expect; and the weather was beautiful, which only added to the little pool of serenity I found myself nestled in. I mention this because, despite being stuck in the office on a gloriously hot day, I experienced a moment of utter peace when around 10:30 the church bells began playing. I generally don’t pay any attention to that sort of thing. But there was no way to ignore them this time, as they proceeded to ring out an almost ethereal tune that muted all other noise and simultaneously fill the office completely for around 30-40 minutes. I thought I was totally relaxed before they started, but only a few minutes after they had started I completely fell away from the world. I went through more work than I usually do, cases that had been bugging me seemed to suddenly make sense and where completed. Before I knew it the rest of the morning had been swept away into the pages of history and I was walking back through the still gloriously hot, peacefully quiet city. It was pretty cool.

However, I don’t think I will venture in work again on a Sunday anytime soon; it has, like I mentioned earlier completely thrown my body clock out of synch. I got to work Monday and it felt as though I’d not had a break since Friday, a feeling that has continue to compound itself throughout today. Still, it’s nothing that a good night sleep shouldn’t sort out. We shall see.

In slightly more exciting news, my little adventurers and I have been compiling details for trips this year. We are definitely going to be taking on Macgillycuddy’s Reeks in Ireland over a long weekend soon, and I’m hoping to get some interest in a trekking trip through the Carpathian Mountians in Transylvania, Romania. Having been there before, and loved it. I also found a trip that see’s you hopping along Sicily’s Aeolian islands, climbing the volcanoes. Which looks amazing. I’ll post more in my next entry, this one is long enough I feel!

FEAR

Fantastic Expectations Amazing Revelations

Hello readers - it’s Friday the 13th again. The second such occurrence within a month, all those poor Paraskavekatriphobic’s must be going out of their minds right now; and there is still one more to come this year.

Final Execution And Resurrection

So in my entry on the last Friday 13th (Senseless Superstition) I talked a little about my thoughts on superstition, so I thought that on this Friday 13th I would talk about FEAR.

Free Expression As Revolution

I actually decided on the theme for this entry at work today, and was able to find a few moments to reflect on what I feared. At the time I found it hard to think of anything. I thought I was the sort of person who would become momentarily scared of distant possibilities rather than the more ‘normal’, immediate; physical objects/scenarios that inspire fear. How that has changed!

In preparation for putting this entry together I decided to look up the most common fears people have. These include: death, spiders, snakes, clowns, heights, water, enclosed spaces, tunnels and bridges, terrorist attacks, social rejection, failure, public speaking, the future, and nuclear war.

Immediately the future and nuclear war stood out as they feature in the ‘what if?’ scenarios that like to take root in my mind on occasion. But although those scenarios do inspire some fear, this soon passes as my curiosity overtakes all other senses and I begin to think about it in detail. However, I then saw social rejection, failure and public speaking and realised that they all scare the bejesus out of me.

Upon reflection I realise I have two big fears, and it surprises me that they did not come to mind until I started to look at what other people feared. But then again, maybe it shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Isn’t it natural to block out things that you are afraid of?

My fears involve failure and rejection, and stem from some major mental issues I had throughout my childhood. I was terrified of large crowds, the idea of talking in public and was paranoid that people thought I was inadequate and were laughing at me. Thankfully those are no longer problems, but they have left their marks on me, those being the two scenarios that scare the hell out of me.

The first, as dumb as it may sound, is dancing. I hate it. At parties I am the guy that is as far removed from the dance floor as possible (which does in fact force me to socialise with random people – which is good, on most occasions). The thought of looking like an idiot and people laughing at me freezes me to the spot; and has on occasion brought me out in a cold sweat. Not so much now, people know me well enough to let me be –and sometimes, after downing an unhealthy amount of alcohol I have been known to stumble onto the floor and lay down some shapes. Still, I don’t like it.

The second is failure, moreover - rejection. The idea of being a failure scares me like no other; this motivate me most areas except when it comes to women. Then the fear seems to become insurmountable, and is the biggest factor in my long periods of being single. That said; you’d have already realised that I find it incredibly hard making the move that takes (or attempts to) friendship into a relationship, or evening making the move to initiate conversation, and friendship in the first place. Now, I have had quiet a few partners – and yet this f**king annoying fear of rejection has not been subdued.

Both of my fears are rooted in my anxiety/confidence issues, mentioned earlier. But my confidence has only grown since leaving school nine years ago, now I can be over-confident and an arrogant little shite at times. So there is obviously something more deeply imbedded in my psyche that is making me neurotic. Perhaps I’m a narcissist.

So my lovely little readers, what do you fear?

FEAR from the Album Music of the Spheres – Ian Brown

Fail

Oh Inspiration, you fiend. Why dost thou ignore me, leaving me out in the cold to look in upon your wonder like a tormented soul left longing in limbo?

I hate this. I have been sat here for the best part of an hour, and what have I to show for this time? Nothing. Nada. I am so non-committal today it almost defies belief.

I began this post five times and deleted every attempt, my brain having flipped on the ‘out to lunch’ sign and wandered away for a siesta, leaving me with no way to finish what I was attempting to say.

I cannot even set my mind to working on other projects – I have a piece of creative writing which I have all worked out, but when I attempted to write it up, my fingers stopped moving after only a few lines and I realised I was staring open mouthed at the monitor.

Fail.

Perhaps I will be more productive tomorrow.

Once Upon a midnight dreary

Hello readers. It looks like another late night for your narrator, which may result in another day of feeling like a sloth in a vacuum. (Slow, sluggish and slightly removed from everything going on around it). But perhaps my current good mood will win through and I’ll be able to combat the weariness.

I have been in really high spirits today. The sun was out for most of it, and despite a wind that blew as fierce as that which plagues the poor souls condemned to spend eternity in Dante’s second level of hell (and breathe), it was warm.

What has brought on this sudden spell of joviality? I don’t know. Perhaps it was having had time over the weekend to put everything out of my mind and actually rest. Yesterday I had the best nights sleep I have had in a long while, and I certainly felt it today. But then it could be down the distressing exercise I am attempting to work through right now. That exercise being the removal of sources of stress and tension in my life, and where it cannot be removed; I find a solution to it – or work around it.

It has seen me make some pretty drastic decisions over the last few days, time will tell whether they have been the correct ones for me. My head is a lot clearer right now, and I have found myself able to concentrate on the things that I could be concentrating on. Unfortunately life isn’t that simple, I have other people to consider and have to find a balance between doing what is right for me, and what is fair for them.

I’ll pick that up in a future post, it’s now past midnight and I should really be getting some sleep soon. Another day of fun and excitement at the office awaits me in, well less than seven hours now.

Before I sign off, my housemate and I went to see Watchman earlier. I had never read the graphic novel, but having heard a lot about it I went in with pretty high expectations. The film wasn’t what I expected, but I liked that, and I liked the film on the whole. It was refreshing to see ‘superheroes’ actually facing the emotional stress of their livelihood and deal with it in an arguably more human way than the heroes we see in Marvel. (Don’t take that as I knock at Marvel, I love marvel comics. More so than I probably should, I can’t help being a geek). But in Watchman the morally grey area all superheroes inhabit was not glossed over, we have it thrust in our faces with gritty realism (ish – its still a comic after all). The characters continually made decisions, and acted in ways you might think heroes like Batman or the Punisher are capable off, but generally paid little heed to.

The soundtrack and cinematography were also really good. There were some great camera shots in the combat scenes, and I realty liked the nighttime cityscapes. Definitely worth watching if you are a fan of the genre.

I think I'll leave you know. It its 00:30, and in the occasional periods of time when I am not typing, there is nothing but silence. A rarity when you live in the city centre. I'm going to go enjoy the moment, and hopefully after some palaver with the sandman he will take pity on me and Shepherd me into the dreamscape of a deep sleep.

time 17.3.84 bb speech malreported africa rectify

Hello readers. Given the down beat tone of my last entry Thru the glass, I have resisted the urge to ponder death further at this time, and will endeavour to talk about something else. Unfortunately the subject of my last entry seems to be the only thing going on in my little world right now, other than work – which at present, is eating away at more of my time than usual. But the extra hours do mean extra money, which is helping to feed my many obsessions – and we get free pizza delivered to the office, so it’s all good.

I am finding work relatively enjoyable at the moment, which is an improvement on how I was feeling when I wrote Next Exit. We are under some considerable pressure right now due to an unnaturally heavy workload, but that suits me fine. I like a challenge, and what we are experiencing at the moment is nothing if not that. But I don’t wish to babble on about work, so that leaves me with Nineteen Eighty-Four to talk about.

I actually finished reading it again about the same time as I finished The Gunslinger, but never got round to uploading a review. Regular readers will be unsurprised when I say I think Nineteen Eighty-Four is a fantastic book, given how much I talk about Utopian/Dystopian concepts at the moment.

The plot centres on Winston Smith, who is living in a post-war London; in a world that has been divided into three super states, Oceania (Britain, renamed Airstrip One; the Americas, Australia and South Africa), Eurasia (Mainland Europe and Russia) and Eastasia (China, Japan, Mongolia and India). These three super states are engaged in a continuous war with one another over the remaining world territories and resource, though none are able to gain a significant advantage over the other two.

Oceania is ruled from London by ‘The Party’, who a totalitarian regime led by the ever present Big Brother, whose face appears throughout the city; always watching. The Party maintains control through oppression, fear and through aggressive propaganda, manipulating all forms of information; even peoples thoughts. This is largely achieved through the devices of newspeak and doublethink.

Newspeak is the official party language, a form of English in which any words that allow an individual to express a feeling or thought contradictory to the ideals of the party, is removed. (Limiting the vocabulary to limit the amount of freethinking).

Doublethink is direct mind control; it is the conscious mental act of accepting two contradictory beliefs as being true. The best examples of this are shown in the names and duties of the four ministries of The Party

Ministry of Peace – Conducts Oceania’s war effort
Ministry of Plenty – Controls the supply of food and goods
Ministry of Truth – The propaganda machine of the party
Ministry of Love – Identifies dissidents (real or potential) then arrests, tortures and re-educates them.

Party members are expected to train themselves in doublethink, those who don’t are likely to be suspected of thoughtcrime and taken to the Ministry of Love.

The narrative itself is divided into three parts; it begins with an introduction to this society through Winston’s eyes. We then see his intellectual rebellion against the party, and finally his arrest, torture and re-education in the Ministry of Love. Taking the character full circle in regard to his perception of Big Brother and The Party.

What I like most about this book is the way in which themes like the perception of truth, and of reality are explored. Winston’s job at the Ministry of Truth is to continually amend previous press articles that disagree with current facts or opinions given by The Party. All forms of the original article are then hunted down and destroyed, along with the orders to amend them (which arrive in code, like the title of this entry). This is repeated for all forms of information, even book are rewritten to fit the party ideals. In this way, the party effectively controls history.

It is the ability the Party has to control not only the present, but also the past, combined with the mental conditioning of its citizens via newspeak and doublethink, that make it appear so immovable. No form of co-ordinated resistance can exist, or at least go unnoticed for more than a few hours. I think that image both alarmingly and thought provoking.

I would like to see a society like that in action, as long as there was a way out. I wouldn’t survive long as a citizen in a Dystopia like Nineteen Eighty-Four. I would rather die in the Ministry of Love than live like a drone.

Nineteen Eighty-Four is a fantastic, thought provoking read; one which I think you should go away and start now!