Revelations and Resolutions

I guess THIS is my last post of a very unusual year - perhaps borderline entertaining. Well we all make resolutions for when a New Year starts, and very few of these resolutions are actually carried out; for some people anyway, kudos to those who get them done! And to tell the truth, I can't even remember what I set myself last year, so I can't be too sure I've accomplished them, but I'll tell you this; for me, New Years is a time where people are brought together to celebrate and we get another 365 days to get to know ourselves better (forgive the cheesy unintentional rhyme). So what was 2011 for me?

2011 was the year I performed in my last show with my drama school, and played my very first drag role. It was the year I starred in my very first lead role. It was the year I got together with my girlfriend. It was the year I realised I had a passion for writing. It was the year I got mixed results for first year A-levels. It was the year I got to know who my real friends are and who aren't. It was the year I was incredibly stupid. It was the year of many regrets. 2011 was the year I also became fixed on certain genres of music. It was the year I realised that for the first time, I had somebody who really cared for me. It was the year of many hilarious outings. It was the year of seeing a best friend after 5 years. It was also the year of realising that my best friend is only a call away. It was the year I bucked up my ideas. And it was the first year I've ever met someone online who I talk to regularly, and who I've got connections with too. It was the year I will surely remember for a very long time. 


2011 was the year of shockingly awful revivals of old TV shows, and new drivel that managed to drag viewers by the thousands. It was the year E.T got his big break becoming part of Little Mix and winning the X-Factor; I really didn't know he could sing. I'm now not as much of a TV addict as my previous self. I rarely find time to watch it, and the time that I do have, I won't watch it.


This year has been your average year of a rollercoaster of emotions, ups and downs, broken friendships and family ties. I've become closer with the people who I reckon will remain with me for my life, and drifted from those who were just summer companions. I went through an incredibly rough patch and have pulled through. So I've come to the conclusion that these bright and happy New Years resolutions that people are adamant on making, hardly ever come true without a few hiccups on the way. That's life, I guess. But I've learned to forget about all the shit times, as they'll only bring you down, now and in later life. My school days, though some of my best, are now floating away into the distance, and the future is quickly shooting in. What will 2012 hold for me? It will be the year of one of the biggest decisions of my life - leaving home to fly 11,000 miles away. The year I leave college. The year I will make many new friends. But I really do hope the ones I have now, the ones who understand me for me, stay put. 

So what does 2012 have in store for you?


Rant over.

“Patience is the ability to count down before you blast off”

I suppose this is my last post of 2011, and I'm glad to say this whole blogging lark has really grown on me; so long may this continue! But what is this post all about? I mean, during the past couple of weeks, I have looked at my blog and thought "Am I really cut up to do this?" or "Do I just end this now?". I haven't written a post since Christmas, and I really haven't had the time to write anything. But to me, I feel that writing this blog is a release; a break to let off all the absolute tosh that's sitting on top of my brain!

People say to me that you're blog is supposed to have a theme, that is why people become interested in it. But as you know, mine is about absolutely everything; anything that comes into my mind at that point of time, or something that has been bugging me for quite a while. I find that this is not only a break for me, but for you readers too. I mean, I can understand that some readers are dedicated to tips on cooking and driving cars etc, but I just want to write to give my readers a cheery, maybe even funny, insight into my life.

And what with the end of the world starting its big countdown as of tomorrow, I thought "STUFF IT!", so readers for one of my New Years Resolutions, I'm really going to put more effort into what I'm writing this coming year. And I really hope you give a few minutes of your day to read it. It would make me that little bit happier x

Rant over.

Christmas tidings.

Well here we are, the big day - Christmas 2011. It came around as quickly as Jim on American Pie. And next week its New Years - the start of another 365 days of mayhem, mystery and fun. 2012. And the very end of the world of course; if you believe all that Judgement day bollocks.

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and hope you get everything that you wished for.

A thought goes to the soldiers in Afghan, you'll be home soon lads!
A thought goes to all those poverty struck families in Africa and all around the world x

Rant over.

The next shitty pop-star rolls in.

   For a while now I've been thinking, and this is only my opinion; do not take this to heart as some may will; but I'm confused and all together confounded at how the X-Factor is still running. It's not logical - the ratings went down hill this series because either/or...

1. Britain's 'talented' singers are getting shitter.
2. Nobody likes the show anymore.
3. Simon Cowell is no longer judging.

   Me, I think all three. It's tumbled downhill very quickly and isn't as spontaneous and as lively as it used to be. People call it a fix these days? Proof that it wants to make more publicity - Amelia Lily, the week before the final 2011. Her name was seen in HMV on the 'Winners Single', yet a week later, she went out first. The hype built up over that week, and bang! the ratings went up BIG TIME for the final. 

Another thing, and this really does bug me. 

   As they get into the live finals, they vote out people who aren't quite cut out to be the winner and won't be able to grab that 'Multi-million pound record deal'. Let me ask you this? When have you ever seen the so called 'winner' do well - as I find its the runner up who does MUCH better. Alexandra Burke for instance; Yeah she had a good voice, nothing we hadn't seen before though, and she did release an album. But JLS, who came second, have overtaken her by miles. Three big selling albums and sold out tours world wide! So I find it funny when I hear Louis Walsh say "I don't t'ink you're good enough for a winners record deal" because it's all just bollocks! Johnny Robinson, this years bit of entertainment, actually had a good voice, and yeah he may not have this 'winners record deal' voice, but I reckon he could certainly do pretty well for himself - whether it be singing or entertaining. 

Do I want X-Factor next year? No.

Do I want to see someone who actually deserves to win, rather that some feather headed, dingbat with an 'OK' voice? Yes.

Rant over.

The phobia of having phobias.

There are those times in our lives when we all get scared of something.  Some people get it more than others, and some people are rarely scared of anything; well on the outside anyway, on the inside they could well be shitting themselves. I have found that since a very young age, I have many phobias. These vary in what they're about, and to be totally honest, I hate having them. But then again, so do most people. They don't strive to stop us in our daily lives but sometimes they tend to get in the way.

My biggest issue is Claustrophobia. And boy do I get it - even on the littlest things. I'm not saying, like before, that it stops me from going to college for example, or acting in a play, but there are some moments  when it just takes the piss. When I was younger, I used to have the same recurring nightmare, at least twice a month, where I would find myself in a dark room, but the room was barely big enough for me to fit in. I'd awake boiling hot, flustered and scared that my room was like it too. Luckily for me, I don't get that dream any more, but I still have ones like it.

Another is spiders, and I really do hate them with a passion, whether it be the little fuckers, or the big bastards that stand still for hours on end, staring at you with their eight beady eyes. I'm not saying I've had a staring context with one for hours; I think I might of walked away, or at least attempted to kill the bitch, but they really do creep me out. It's the fact that they have eight hairy, little legs that scuttle around intensely quick and they dart in and out of furniture. Errgghhhh, I hate the thought of them!

Great bunch of friends - I'm the one crouched in grey at the front. 

One thing I love about the year is Hallowe'en, and how much fun you can have dressing up, having fun and scaring people. This year, I went to Thorpe Park Fright Night with a group of my college buddies, and we did it all - the rides in the dark, the dressing up and scaring people, even the horror mazes. Well, tell a lie, I did one of the mazes; Saw Alive. Because, and I'll be totally honest here, I shat myself from the word 'GO'. I hate the feeling of people with limbs hanging off, and blood oozing from their eyes, touching me, whispering in my ear "I'm going to chop you up into little pieces!" As soon as I walked into the first corridor, barely wide enough for two people side by side, that was it. I hated it! Claustrophobia the Bitch had struck again! And people mock me for this, for being "a pussy", and let me tell you readers, I don't care. It's my problem, so let me deal with it is what I say. 

All I can say is, I'm nearly Eighteen, and I'm still comfortable with admitting my fears. People shouldn't be afraid what they're scared of - as it's just another addition to what makes each and every one of us unique. Bring on 2012 I say, and I hope that at some point I'll get the chance to overcome several of my fears.

Rant over. 

The English way of life.

   Tea. The typical English drink of the 'posh tot'. But how the hell it's widely known as an English drink, rather than its East and South Asia origin, I'll never know. Me, I've been brought up on the stuff, not saying I'm a 'posh tot' or anything, I just love it. And I love any sort of tea, whether it be a nice relaxing mint tea, a spicy fruit tea, or just the plain bog standard, always the best, tea. Best couple on earth, Earl and Lady Grey. Love 'em both. Threesome - Yes please.

   The English, and I'm proud to be of that origin, are a weird bunch. Fashion, food and dialects are thrown asunder in the United Kingdom and the range of everything, up and down the country, is just bizarre. I'm Sussex born and bred, and have a slightly posh accent; always have, always will. And it's nice to know that we 'English' are known for many things... 

Now contrary to what Cousin Avi suggests, it's not just London that is like this. England is known world wide for its shit weather. We rarely have a summer, and can we really say we have a winter and a white christmas either. Its rain and sludge - poxy Britain. Tea, like above, is usually linked to us, and that's because we f**king love it! Mary Poppins, god bless her, speaks with the typical Queens English; or BBC English as it's commonly referred to. And she was able to fly with her enchanted umbrella, magical bitch. And the food, well what can I say about food. The food in England is of its own taste. Compared to the noodles and curries and pastas of the rest of the world, British food will always be... unique; fish and chips, sausage and mash, and the legendary 'Sunday Roast' - the hallmark of Britain. 

But still, this is what makes us special. Makes us unique. And I'm proud to be British.

Rant over.

1000 years of shit happenings.

Guest Post -

All rights go to Sam Saunters @GreyHairedTeen

Been contemplating numerous things. 

And decided, regardless of the century, for the last 1000 years, '87 has been a bad year, for someone (generally someone important, not just anyone) and/or the English as a whole.

Here's some shit that's gone down in 87'-
1087 - William the Conquerer died. One of the few men who ever sucessfully invaded England, and known as 'the bastard' because he was such a badass.

1187 - Those crazy medieval crusaders lost Jerusalem to Saladin. Doesn't seem like much, but think about it. Holiest city in the world. Was a bitch to take in the first place. And for the rest of history you get remembered as the generation of westerners who lost Jesus' hometown. Bastards.

1287 - Something abit more local for me and anyone who actually know's me. The 'city' of Winchelsea on Romney Marsh is destroyed. There was a CITY at Winchelsea. AND IT WAS DESTORYED. WE DON'T KNOW HOW. Just think for a minute, how cool would it be if it was still there?

1387 - Richard II, the whiney little bastard, get's his arse kicked. He was KING, and a bunch of guys about 20 years his senior called the Lords Appellant told him he was a little bitch and locked him up. For once, it sucks to be king.

1487 - Battle of Stoke (Last Battle of the Wars of the Roses). Okay, I admit, I struggled abit here, but this was pretty shit for certain people. For instance, the House of York, who'd spent over a 100 years wrestling for the English throne had lost it all. Also, the French wrre pretty pissed because all that trouble had kept those English bastards outta their hair.

1587 - Mary, Queen of Scots was executed. Not so bad for alot of people, but pretty shit for her. After all, nobody likes getting their head lopped off with a sword. Wait. Scratch that. It was an axe. Royalty were supposed to warrent the use of a sword to avoid a prolonged death, but Mary's cousin Queen Lizzy hated her guts so she missed out.

1687 - James II of England (James VII of Scotland, just to confuse you) dissovled the English Parliament. Not told them to take a break, this guy actually believed in the Divine Right of Kings and thought he could rule all on his own. To put this into context, he got kicked out of the country by a Dutchman and then tried to take back the thrones of England and Scotland by invading IRELAND. You can probably guess how well that went by the fact he was a few hundred miles to far west.

1787 - A bunch of American blokes with lots of facial hair came up with something they take pretty seriously over there, the Constitution. So, what does this have to do with England? Not a huge amount, but it went a long way into unifying the US, and that kinda closed the door for us (or anyone else) ever getting back into a positon of power stateside. So it was kinda the end of a dream for a few crazy Empire-minded bastards.


1887 - We're getting more recent, and so to something more relevant to modern soeicty. England did rubbish against Austrailia at cricket. Bad as that is, it gets worse. We were all out for FORTYFIVE. Just to verify, thats 45, the number below 46. Admittedly, we eventually won the text by just 3 runs, but that first innings was the worst EVER. A black day for Enlish Cricket. On the bright side, a kid called Monty was also born this year, and he proved pretty darn important in stopping the biggest homocidal maniac ever - Hitler.

1987 - And so we come to the most recent 87'. By this time, the curse of 87' was starting to run its course, but some bad stuff still happened for the world of art and theatre. Andy Warhol, the famous artist who massively influence what it now considered modern art died. Futhermore, singing and dancing peoples everywhere cried because Fred Astaire popped his clogs. This was a big deal. Gene Kelly, a fellow all singing all dancing chap (the same guy who did Singin' In The Rain), commented "the history of dance on film begins with Astaire". That's a pretty big statement, and if you ever watch any footage of ole' Freddy performing, you'll understand.

That's it. 1000 years of cruddy 87's. The question is, what about 2087? Will shit go down in a big way? Well, unless you're this guy, you'll have to wait around to find out.

A possible chance of randomness.

This, what you are about to read, is some totally random stuff that only the mad can think about. I have had an idea of a single storyline in my mind for the last couple of days and I really want to get it out of my system. Bearing in mind, this is free-writing, so what you see before you is totally written on the spot. And it's only short. Nothing too extreme. No drafts. Enjoy x

This feeling of waking up and looking out across the bay was one that only a trained adventurer had felt. Except now. I was standing here, on my bamboo balcony, looking out over the sea; crystal clear blues with the odd rainbow fish splashing vigorously in and out of the water. The sun, a yellow spotlight slowing breaking over the distant horizon, sends its bright rays into my squinting eyes. I haven't felt this free, this... alone, in what seems like a lifetime. But I can't deny the fact that staying in this disturbing environment, amongst the degenerate lowlives and scumbags that call this place home, has really done me no good.
    I want to be able to awake one morning and see the rain, the clouds and the sorrow of a quaint little village, but know I'm safe; without the landlord patrolling the hallways armed with a knife and a oily black cloth. I smell the urine emanating from his clothes every time I walk by him; no wonder he calls this place home - he fits right in. And I want to be able to sleep every night without the same question buzzing through my mind - “Can one man's madness be another's real life?” Do I have to tread a hundred thousand steps to get away from what left back home? The feeling has stayed with me since I left, and it won't leave. The sight of their bloody and bruised body's won't leave my mind. Just lying there, limp and lifeless, their eyes wide open. That's the worst part. Their eyes. And my sister; her smile. Her lifeless and ever-haunting smile has been branded into my mind like some scarred cattle-brand on the rear of a stick thin cow.
    He always talked of madness, my late uncle, always. Never my fathers or my grandfathers, but some distant boy who wanders the "plains of Vietnam" with his rucksack on his back. Himself at a younger age. He went mad out here. And I'm going the same way, I tell you.

    Somebody once asked me, "Define madness" and now I know the answer.

I am madness. And madness is me.

A bit of christmas spirit.

"Here comes Santa Claus, Here comes Santa Claus, Right down Santa Claus Lane, Vixen and Blitzen and all his reindeer pullin' on the reins. Bells are ringin', children singin', All is merry and bright. So hang your stockings and say your prayers, 'Cause Santa Claus comes tonight."

   So here we have it, nine days till the big Christmas 2011. NINE days, and then it's been 365 days since Christmas 2010! Why the hell do the years have to fly by these days? Time has decided to speed itself up since the human race entered the 'naughties', and we never have time for anything anymore. 

   The weather has been crap recently; absolute tosh, and apparently it's been predicted to snow later on today (bearing in mind I'm writing this is 2am) and to be quite honest, it couldn't make anything any better in the slightest; the rain that has dripped-dropped from the heavens is something that could be compared to the monsoons of Vietnam. Streams of ice cold liquid running down the centre of roads and along pavements; Britain's very own rice-paddy.

   Christmas presents have been bought, and I really need to sort out some time, if I can find it, to wrap the buggers up and stash them somewhere out of reach from the younger sisters. It's always a hard thing, choosing christmas presents for family members and friends, don't you agree? We will never be able to predict if someone else has got the same present for another as you have, and if that is the case, you want that person to keep YOURS, in the hope they have more love for you.

   Putting the christmas tree up is a family tradition in many households across the world. This year, for the first year running, I did not participate in the merry ritual. Instead I chose to sit at my desk, with a cup of tea at my side, and a 3000 word essay in front of me; glaring at me with angst and hatred burrowing deep into my pupils; "You will never complete me!" It scribbled. But it's done now, or at least a first draft of it is done, top notch standard has not been hit yet... but it'll get there, soon enough. 

   With only these nine days to go, the streets are getting cramped. I'm glad everything is sorted now. I just hope my work shifts over the festive period fly by...

Whoops, there goes me; wishing my time away.

Rant over.

“The greatest gift is a passion for reading.”

Another post about how much I read, and how each book I read is completely and utterly unrelated in context and genre to the previous.

Take the three books you see above; Ian McEwan's 'Atonement' - a masterpiece in written form, with a bit of a let down film. 'Breaking Dawn' by Stephanie Meyer; if you haven't read my previous post regarding the Twilight QUADRILOGY, then read it here. And finally, Sylvia Plath's 'The Bell Jar' which, my I add, has had me sleepless for nights and pieces have left me mentally scarred for several years. These books are three totally unrelated pieces of literature that I find, with the exception of 'Bell Jar', a pleasure to read. And I'm reading them all at the same time... well I was.

Here we have my bible, which you can see me unwrapping here. My guide to the beautiful locations of Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand and the rest of southeastern Asia. This now has taken priority over the other three books, and I'm looking forward to getting my thinking cap around it. I have known where I want to go for quite a while now, and I thought that a cheeky little guide may help me get some ideas on where to go and where to stay and what to see etc - £10 on waterstones.com BARGAIN!

Well guys, thanks for giving your time to read this; I'm now climbing into bed, with a cup of tea, and getting started! Night all x

Rant Over.

I laugh.

This is only a short post, as I've just been at work all day, and I'm a tad hungry.

Thank you to the 2266 views on my blog, and to the 11 Subscribers who clearly enjoy reading my blog, hence the 'subscriber' status. I find your positive comments on facebook and twitter uplifting, and it spurns me on to keep writing. I enjoy writing this blog because I enjoy writing; simple. I do not do it for readership as some of you 'haters' may think, so these comments on posts that say 'nobody cares' or 'no one reads your blog' - take a look why don't you, at the facts stated on the side bar of my blog itself. It says it all really.

And to the 'Anonymous' reader, thank you much though for letting every one else see your contradiction - "no one even reads your blog" - because, and I'm chuckling slightly as I write this, you have read my blog, clearly, and even found some of your time to comment. Thank you for your extra view that I so dearly want.


These comments, which I can only gather are SUPPOSED to make me question why I'm even writing this blog, aren't doing anything of the sort. So you try and write a blog, and maybe I'll be generous enough to give you a view.


Thankyou.


Rant over.

1.

Evening all! In case you don't know who I am yet, my name's Jackson. Since I was five I have wanted to be an actor and nothing else, I was addicted to facebook and now I cannot stand it, I'm very very fond of black olives, I have four YOUNGER siblings, my fashion sense is completely wankered, I frequently end up in the 'weird part of youtube', I went to four different primary schools, I cannot stand leeks or brussel sprouts, Spaghetti Carbonara is my most favourite meal, I'm a sap when it comes to love, I am at one with nature and love scenic walks and views, one thing on my bucket list is to meditate with monks in rural China, I love Bow ties and braces, I'm INCREDIBLY gullible, I love writing and tweet daily, I'm partial to a strong scottish accent, I lost my 'marbles' a long time ago and I don't care who knows it.

I do one of these posts every month x

Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.

Copyright Dreamer-soul ©

   Christmas time. Mistletoe and wine. But children aren't singing christian rhymes because the weather outside isn't snowing - it's pissing it down with rain. Who knew?! And also, who expected anything more from a wintery Britain? We certainly won't see any snow soon, unlike last year. Yes, we wish for rain when it gets too hot, but as soon as it comes, we moan.
   This is the point in the post where I give my opinion on how it's negative to moan, but stuff it - I hate this poxy weather! It's horrible, miserable and cold. And another BIG downside is the fact we all get wet. Errrggghhhh! You cannot do anything in the rain, well apart from sing, and that's only entertaining until the fourth song when you forget the lyrics. I just feel like something totally drastic needs to happen with this countries' weather.
   I suppose I better get used to it though; they get a lot of this 'falling water' in Thailand around this time of year too.

Rant over.

"My name is Petey... and I have GIGANTIC balls."

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Excited much?

Right now, I have that feeling; as I'm sitting here at my desk; of huge excitement! I feel like a dragonfly buzzing through the air, like a leaf in the wind. Christmas is coming in a couple of weeks, and my birthday soon follows a week after that. But if you want to know, incase you're getting me presents, that I'm not fussed about 'crimbo' this year - I'm more fussed about my 18th, so as long as that's special, I'll die a happy man.
   I woke up this morning, and for some strange reason, and I never usually get this feeling, I felt sheer joy over the prospects of the year to come. It boggles my mind to think where I will be this time next year. Footloose and fancy free! I feel like a baby with his first cookie, or a child with their first bike. I want the freedom and the experience, and I want it right now. But, for now, I suppose I better get my head down and get the year over and done with.
   It's times like these where I wonder if I should start an occasional VLOG for you guys?

Rant over.

“Not all those who wander are lost.”

Today, I think I may have made one of the biggest decisions of my life.

   Since I was born, I have practically wanted to go into the acting profession. I love it, as you well know from my previous posts; I dreamt I would always leave college and continue to study for an extra three years or so, maybe more, in Acting. But recently, and after looking at the shit state this country is in, I've been slowly venturing off the idea of it, sadly. I'm not too keen on going into higher education and coming out with a nice load of money... to pay back; all £27,000 to be precise. I find it so daunting, and also the fact that once I leave, I'm stuck with that for years, and I'm stuck paying it back, and I'm stuck with what I can do freely. These Drama schools - amazing as they may sound, and the one I visited today actually was - are an INCREDIBLY big commitment. Guildhall School of Music & Drama is such a nice, friendly and stunning place by the looks of things. Everyone there was so helpful, and really seemed as though they were enjoying what they were doing. 

   I'd be lost with what to do. And I want to be free for at least another year longer. Travelling sounds good doesn't it? How about Australia? Maybe go do a bit of bar work?... Or wrestle with some crocodiles.

   My mind is swaying towards the travelling idea. What are your views readers?

Rant over.

The miserable lot.

I'll probably end up doing one of these random, but interesting, posts from time to time. 

   I'm a fan of the art of 'Acting' and love to get up in front of any amount of people to entertain them. I'm big on theatre; going to it, watching it, starring in it. I've been in all manor of amateur and professional shows; ranging from local college productions, to my old drama school where I have recently resigned from, after 5 years. In 2009 I performed in the opera Falstaff at Glyndebourne Opera House; in the South East, near Ringmer. I was then asked to understudy and share the role of 'Pageboy' for the UK Tour, meaning I continued throughout the year, going all over the country to theatres here and there. And one of the best experiences of my life it was too.

   One of my favourite shows is Les Misérables, and I had the honour of playing the legendary part of Monsieur Thenadier earlier this year; I was pretty darn glad I landed the cheeriest part in the whole show! I want to be able to study a Bachelors in Acting at a top London Drama school - if only I had the money.

Rant over.

That's me - in the sexy blue jacket.

Restricted by limits.

Copyright Jackson Tigwell ©

   I want to be free to do what I want. This can be said for most people my age during the mid 'naughties'. I feel like a Porsche driving down a winding country lane, only restricted to 40mph! I feel like I have so much potential, and I want to get out there and show everybody what I've got and how I do things my way.

   I didn't bother with UCAS this year; I'm going the private way about things, and auditioning separately to each Drama Uni - 5 in total! But recently I've been thinking. I know for a fact, and I have come to accept it, that the only way I'm getting in and out of higher education is with a massive bounty on my head; I think it's known as a 'debt' in the 21st century. But do I really want to go at the ripe old age of eighteen, with this thought in my mind. Or do I go away? Do things I have always wanted to do in the world? See places and sights and interact with all different cultures over this small world. It'd been a damn sight cheaper, that's for sure! And much more interesting at this point in life; even if I only went away for six or so months. 

   I can see it now; coming back to drizzly Great Britain, after a year spent meditating and studying Asian culture in the mountains of China (something I've always, ALWAYS wanted to do). I want to come back after the break away and be that Porsche, but not restricted to 40mph. I want to feel the wind in my hair - doing 80. Being wild and fancy free. I want to feel alive.

Rant over.

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

Copyright Jackson Tigwell © 

For us, the best time is always yesterday. The ideal museum for me would feature a pyramid of original Sunny D-elight!, old Thomas the Tank VHS tapes and a small dented box of half bitten lego bricks - you know the kind; when you couldn't get one off another, and resolved it by biting it off, etching several teeth marks into the side. Good memories. 

   We love remembering our childhoods'. Reminiscing about TV shows we used to watch and what songs we used to sing in the car with our 'rents, makes us feel happy, if slightly sad. But we know that we can never go back to those days, and it hurts doesn't it? Knowing that we can't. It's human nature to want to return to a distant memory, and unfortunately we can't do that... unless a Time-travelling DeLorean is invented any time soon.
   Take the boat above; I bet it used to be a speedy little number in its' hay-day. I found it on the 22nd August, washed up onto this little beach, along the edge of Loch Affric in the Scottish Highlands, and it was still in tact, aside from a few holes in the bottom. Imagine if this boat had a mind, and we were able to find out what it had seen, what it had done. It'd be fascinating! Do this if you get bored; give an inanimate object a mind and picture what it had seen. I have been known to do this - sad-act.

Rant over.

"Knowing me, knowing you..."

‎"Your story is a christmas fairytale isn't it?
 You're Gordon Hansel and Liz Gretel... allow me if you will,
to be Hans Christian Alan-Partridgeson?" - Alan Partridge

"Comedy, as a popular meaning, is any humorous discourse or work generally intended to amuse by creating laughter especially in television, film, and stand-up comedy."

   My sense of comedy is a pretty strange one. In the case where I encounter a lonely night-in with some munch and fizzy drinks, where people would usually tune in to 'Live at the Apollo' or watch some hilarious TV series, I'm lying there chuckling to Alan Partridge and Rowan Atkinson. These two are but two of my favourite comedians of all time; they know exactly where my funny bone is and how to hit it spot on! The nineties - days where politics was a laughing stock, religion was mocked and the theme tunes and editing were a shambles. But that is what made it so good!
   For centuries, comedy has always been a way to entertain and to cheer people up from the hard grind. For me, being a comedy actor, I have always taken interest in humour; it's my life-force, and one of my lifelong ambitions is to get up in front of a large crowd, and just purely make them laugh; I intend to live forever - so far, so good. When I joke about around my friends and in class, and the reactions I get give me an energy boost, another one of my infamous 'permanent highs'. I love writing humour, and making people laugh; I feel it is my mission in life. I'm not one of those army nuts - all it is is you meeting interesting people, and killing them - I just think of myself as a big kid when it comes to jokes. 

"We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public."

Rant over.

Party like it's nearly 2012.

We all know a party that has been a bit hit. These parties stick in your mind for months, even years. My good friend Josh's (tweet him) 19th party was outstanding! The music was brilliant, the drink was great, and the company even better. I haven't enjoyed myself as much at a birthday bash in months. What a brilliant way to say goodbye to 18 years, and hello Mr. Nineteen.
   Josh has been a good friend of mine for over a year now, and I couldn't have asked for a better year. He's a great; absolutely great guy, and him and I always have a great laugh together. He's so talented and loved by everyone, no wonder the party was a hit! So Congrats old man, on your nineteenth, and I look forward to another great year with your company.

Rant over.

I'm partial to stuffing.

What with christmas only 23 days around the corner, and the shops are getting busier and the pubs are getting rowdier, I find that rather than messing about in the snow and freezing my 'nads off, I'd prefer to stay in and keep warm this winter. The weather outside isn't snowing - it's pissing down with rain; but what else do you expect from a British winter.
 
My love at christmas is the food. Especially stuffing - which I could eat for days on end.

What's your guilty pleasure at christmas? Go on, be naughty.

Rant over.

I'd never judge a book by its movie...

It's a funny thing, how we have a lust for reading; it's that sense of freedom in a book that you don't get anywhere else - they take you to places you'd only dream of going. It's also funny how, if we read a book, then a big time movie company release an adaptation of it, we mar the film. Some movie adaptions are brilliant; Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, The Godfather etc. I find that if done correctly, a 'book-movie' can be phenomenal; wrestling with our emotions on many different levels (See my previous post about movies.)
   I read an awful lot. I can get through a book of 300 pages in just over a day. I love literature. Harry Potter series - Check! Read it seven times now. Lord of the Rings trilogy - Check! Only three times, but they are hard-going books. I love individual books too; the ones that aren't any part of a series, who's author is still relatively unknown to the world. One set of books I promised myself I'd never read were the Twilight books - by the way; I refuse to call them a Saga because there aren't six of them, they are a Quadrilogy seeing as though there are four books.
   Last night, me and my other half went to the cinema to see 'Breaking Dawn', the latest and last part of the Twilight QUADRILOGY... and I loved it. I was hooked for the entire two hours. I'm sad to say that it got to the end of the film, and I was, and still am, desperate to find out what happens in Part Two; released later next year.

I'm now reading the books.

                  Promise failed.

I even posted about it on my twitter for everybody to see. So bear with me guys, as I'm about to get my head around the fact this girl wants some lovin' from both a bloodsucker, and a hairy beast.

Rant over.

The littlest things.

Oh how I laughed my head off, and I mean deep belly laugh, when I saw this photo. It's now become one of those photos for me that will stick into my mind, and when I think of it, I'll do the strange chuckle to myself - while I'm surrounded by other people.
   We all know what I'm talking about. The strange looks we get back because we full on laughed at something in our heads. I find it hilarious; not only watching people do it, but knowing that I've done it myself; a weird 'high' feeling goes through me.
   So you go baby, you get your toothless gums and eat that watermelon LIKE A BOSS!

Rant over.

The late night menu.

My sleep pattern is buggered. I'm awake and can't fall into the land of dreams and shit like that. I'll try to picture sheep, jumping over a white picket fence.

One... Two... Three... Four... Five... FUCK OFF SHEEP! GO TO SLEEP!

I've just gone into my kitchen, and raided some munchies, healthy mind you; grapes. So that's my late night snack - Grapes and a small glass of apple juice. Two of my 5-a-day and it's only 00:34. Standard.

Rant over.

I watch the tele... when it's off -_-

During my school years, and the past two at college, I've been 'interpreted' by people as BARMY, WACKY, CRUDE and SENSELESS. I've been told to "Get help..." and "Calm the fuck down", because guess what readers; I'm me! Primary school mainly saw me as a boy who was the nerd of nerds, who ate his lunch in the library and sniffed pencils - this may have brushed over onto my beginning days of high school but hey-hoh. But when I began to meet people who loved me for who I am, some who were and still are friends, some enemies, I felt as though I could POP right out of my shell.
   Like a baby chick with one leg.
       Wait that's a bad example! Scratch that!
So I'm riding down the street and I sneeze so loudly, and proceed to look into the face of the old dear who noticed, only to say "Terrible weather Dorris, toodlepip!"

I did not know this woman.

I usually tend to be very spontaneous. I like to do things on the fly. And am I proud of it? HELL YEAAAHHH! I like being me; not some non-emotional, prim&proper creep. Don't try to change me please.
   But somedays, I do think what it would be like, if I hadn't of lost my mind on the road to Amarillo. It's like I wake up every morning and I'm hugging my pillow. I remember the dream I had about Ama... you know where this is going right? Hehe.

I do miss it - my sanity. But I don't think I'd ever want it back.

Rant over.

Yes, I get emotional at films.

We all like watching films - Going to the cinema, lounging back munching on some sweet popcorn (salted for those that way inclined) and watching a blockbuster; it's part of our lifestyle. I find films so engrossing, so interesting that their plot and characters stick in my mind.
   So we've established we like the cinema. We can also establish the fact that we hate the cinema when some seven foot string bean comes and, out of the whole auditorium, chooses to sit smack-bang in front of us. Why does he feel this is necessary?! Can't he see that some of us are of small stature? At this point, I'm referring to you the public, because at six foot two, I'm slowly edging into this 'annoying string bean' category.
   My main rant today is about how films can touch our emotions on so many different levels. Me, for instance; I get emotional at the endings of several films. The end of the Star wars saga; when Luke is reunited with the 'Anakin Skywalker' side of his father - it's such a brilliant ending. So don't judge me when I say I do shed a tear to this. The ending of King Kong, when Kong dies - Jheez! You get so attached to him, then he goes and falls off one of the tallest buildings in the world. He falls and falls and falls and BANG; I'm left saddened.
   What I want to know, is that am I the only one in this boat? Anyone else feel the slow drift of emotional tide rushing through them towards the end of a good film?

Rant over.

Fancy a nice pint of throw-up?

I'm not eighteen. Not for another 39 days.
   And I'm not particularly fussed about venturing out into the baron wastes of town and drinking till I'm caked out on the ground with a small bit of foam at the mouth. I will relish the moment when I'm eighteen. So it gets on my tits when people makes fusses about going out, and getting pissed, whilst 'underage'. 
   Yeah, I drink. But I'm no alcoholic. If I'm 'round a mates house with a few of us playing xbox or chilling to music, then yeah I'll have a cider or beer. But I don't see the point of going out, freezing your knackers off for a couple of drinks in a stingy, drunk infested bar, only to struggle to get home with the worst hangover known to man. 
   I'm the sort of guy who will enjoy sitting in a small smokey jazz club, sipping on a beer, listening to some guy playing A-minor on the trumpet. I'm chilled to the bone. Don't judge me - I can wait till January.


Rant over.

You feeling me?

Excuse me for saying so, but I hate it when people upload photos to the internet of themselves being a vain, posing like they're some page 3 wannabe, and when they get positive comments, they have the audacity to reply "Nawwwwww, I'm not. I'm ugly :(" 

If you were ugly, would you really be comfortable with uploading a slutty picture of yourself to the internet? No. No you wouldn't.

So take the hint. 

Me - I've got spots. I've not got pearly white teeth. And I haven't got a six pack. But you know what I do have... Eyes, ears, a mouth and a heart. I'm comfortable with myself, and I'm comfortable with what people think about me. 

Rant over.

If there is a problem, there is a solution.

Honestly - No there isn't. Some problems are just there to be bitches to us, and mess us about and twist our lives around in ways that we don't want them to be twisted.

It is somewhat reminiscent of a 'stretchy toy' with a tear and all the flour just seeping out.

I feel this kids anger. I'm not feeling the haircut as much -_-

Rant over.

It's loosing its touch.

This post contains strong language.
Yep, it's safe to say, I've come to the conclusion that facebook is boring. If you read my past facebook-featured post, in which I ranted on about the pornographic and mentally disturbing photographs that plagued the worlds 'most popular' social networking site, then you'll probably guess that towards the end of it, I was getting to the end of my tether. But recently, I have found no use for the site whatsoever. I suppose that it does feel useless to most people every now and then, but there comes a time when you log in to the 'book, and you feel as if you just want to cry. Not because of sadness or being unhappy - but because you can't stand the shit that is posted on there and what people are rambling on about. I don't get it?

Mark Zuckerberg created the site so people locally and globally could share photos and chat with each other over the tinternet. I personally think that was a pretty good idea. But nope, people only want to put how depressing life is, how much they hate an ex-lover, how much they hate school or just upload a photo of a stick in the woods and say "Wow, look at this stick."
I'm sorry, but if I wanted to admire a random stick,

I'D WALK DOWN A FUCKING WOODS MYSELF OKAY?! 

I just don't see the point of these useless posts that people feel are entertaining others.

Whats the point in trying to make the most 'friends' on the site? I can say that out of all of my 740 'friends' on facebook, I know ALL of them. Some of them not so personally, but I have heard of them; friends of friends, family etc. But not a single one is unknown to myself. I find it stupid how people can brag about having 2000 "friends"...

"Do you know who Tamzin Achbah is?"

"Nope."

"THEN HOW ARE THEY YOUR FUCKING FRIEND?!!"

Again, I'm at the end of my tether with this.

To conclude this post, and finish your most thrilling bit of reading of the day, I'd like to add - Dear Mark Z. Please make a dislike button. I think I speak for everyone in saying that it would make my facebook experience a bit more entertaining. Thankyou.


On the upside, I found a clip of a two legged horse running.

Rant over.

"Are we not like two volumes of one book?"

I can't see the 'campness'... can you?

Its about time I wrote about this twat. Introducing James - my best mate. Where would I be today if I hadn't of met him 5 years ago? To tell the truth, I'd be a very boring person. I mean, I wasn't that boring in the days before these, I was able to have a laugh, and create one too, but this guy here is the centre of my banter! Since I first met him in the sweet little year of 2006, my life has been on its ups, downs, round and round and back through a dark misty tunnel like some campy 90's theme park ride. Its strange how you are suddenly attached to one person like ZZAP!, but it happens, and when it does you begin to feel a whole new level of sensibility, knowing and hilarity.

During the years, we've may have gone through everything there is possibly possible - anything that may go wrong has gone wrong, and well, anything that is incredibly strange, has been made stranger. And I love him for it! This ranges from 'planking' in front of an old fellow whilst he was driving in his sheltered mobility scooter, and he didn't actually want to stop! To setting off smoke bombs on James' balcony and disappearing and choking the fumes. We went camping about a year ago with a few of our friends, and on the first night, whilst pissing about, I preceded to accidentally dislocate his thumb. Another note is when we went on a bike ride a few years back, and only having a laugh with one of our mates, we rode our bikes into James' legs, consequently putting him on crutches, after he'd torn a big number of ligaments -_- Ooops.


Its strange how a best friendship starts really - some people 'click' together, some people slowly get to know each other. On the other hand, the twat and I HATED each other for the first couple of months! It was strange. We met at our ex-drama school, and both wanted to be better than each other (I still find this funny!) Our first show together was somewhat reminiscent of the battle between Leonidas and Xerxes in the film '300'. Me being the tall tanned one, and him being the one who ends up slumped in a pile filled with hundreds of arrows... AHAHAHAHA! But no, seriously, it was big-assed rivalry. Though after a while, of telling each other jokes and making other people laugh, we decided to cram our 'funniness' together, and here we are. He's the only person, whenever I've answered the front door to him, who greets me with a smile and the words "Morning Fuckface!" How can you not smile back?

I've got one problem though.

I'm auditioning for drama schools based in London in a few months, and next year, if I leave, I'm going to miss him. Where the hell am I going to find comfort and laughter? Where can I find another short, messed up wally like him?... Answer. I won't be able to.

I will miss you. My twat.

Rant over.

A watercolour life?

via my-watercolor-guide.com

Each day I wake up and think how cool my daily life would be if it was totally in watercolour - how smoothly, how vibrant, how psychedelic it would be. Chores and essays and outings would flow smoothly into the next.

I'd wake up, have some breakfast, take a shower; all the while some eighties dance tunes are playing alongside. I'd go downstairs and open the curtains, and let the sun shine brightly in. The whole experience would be like a day spent on a magic mushroom (though I have never tried one myself.) The feeling of being permanently happy - with yourself and with everyone else.  

            Nothing can get in my way. 

Hey, it would go something like this.

 

This song just puts me in a good mood from the instant I press the 'play' button...

Rant over.

We all wanna be superheroes right?

During my absence; my two days illness, I have thought about many things while lying in bed with a rampant headache, and stomach pains that could hinder a three-legged donkey.

Money. Food. Peace. Love. Super powers.

I'm writing this whilst still lying in bed, under the heavy influence of warm ribena and toast. You see, and we all think about this at some point in our lives - I want to be a superhero.

The thought of flying across the sky, with no limits. The thought of swimming underwater, and not drowning. The thought of seeing through walls. It's all mind-boggling. And it's very easy to get lost in these thoughts, especially when you're lying here like me - ill, weak, and incredibly hungry. The human being is born with the instinct to change. To change his or hers life, maybe other peoples lives. You see, I have this problem where when I'm walking somewhere, and I've got my music plugged in, I fuck off to some other exotic country; I picture myself flying around with a set of wings on my back, swooping down, picking up wankers, and dropping them from a small height, never meaning to kill anyone... only meaning to maim or seriously injure - thank you Dobby for that quote.

I lay here now, and think "what would it be like if I had superFAST powers?" Being superfast would be A-ma-zing! I could get essays done in the click of a finger. Cook in seconds and get anywhere in an instant. It seems to me that God chose to make us human beings as plain as he possibly could, though each of us is certainly unique. I just find it hard to believe that superpowers don't exist?!

You hearin' me?

Rant over.

I'm off trollin'!

There have been so many 'found footage' films released in the past few years. It all started with Paranormal Activity*1*, and how believable it all seemed - though a year later, with the entrance of a sequel, it was deemed fake. But people still find it scarily brilliant to watch. With the third instalment recently hitting cinemas, and finding mixed reviews, I think the activities of paranormal beings are finished. But that leaves the way for many more of these 'found footage' gems!

Last night, I watched Troll Hunter. And I was impressed.

via. bestmoviesever.com

This film has everything - Three university students. A high tech camera. A hardened troll hunter and lots of big-assed trolls that "piss everywhere!" It's set in Norway, where the legends of the trolls originate, and the script is entirely in norwegian (with english subtitles to help us understand it.) I myself grew up reading these tales, and have a big love for the gruesome, smelly, 100ft mammals! I found myself utterly gripped at all points, wanting to know what was going to happen next and how they were going to get out of all the mess they were in.

I'm going to finish here because I don't want to spoil it for those who haven't seen it, but believe me, it's well worth the watch!

Rant over.


*1* Some people could argue that the film that started the sensation was Cloverfield, but we all know that is fake from the start... One because the Statue of Liberty still has her head, and two New York hasn't been devastated with a massive nuclear bomb. 

Time goes by...

Its strange how time will just float on by. I woke up this morning, and seriously reminisced about my childhood. It's strange isn't it - how we do these things from time to time? Our childhoods are possibly the greatest days of our lives, because we're not tied down to any commitments: coursework, work, money issues. My childhood was such a big collection of the proverbial 'banter'.

And I do feel sad about not seeing the friends that I got so close to in those days. But everybody moves on, makes new ones and has the time of their lives. During my time at primary school I moved house 4 times, and moved between 4 different schools - so I was accustomed to making new friends, but sadly, at that age, without a mobile phone, I could not keep in personal contact with all these new chums I had made. I remember playing playstation with my mates, running around a wood with sticks for swords and guns, and of course, the push-bike races! At school - we'd trade Pokemon cards, or Yu-Gi-Oh cards (when both sets were at their peak) and never play the actually trading card game!

Those days were the best.

Primary school is where my love for acting really came through too - playing a scurvy Pirate Captain/Teacher began it all. Wearing a makeshift eyepatch, socks pulled up to my knees, and rocking out the Adidas trainers on my feet - I didn't care. I was in front of a crowd of people, doing something that I finally enjoyed. No change there then.

~

I have got back into contact with most of my old buddies, and it's great to hear about their lives and how they're getting on. I makes me feel great to be honest. 

But sometimes, when I'm on my own, I wish I could turn back the clocks, and relive the greatest moments of my childhood. Because the thought of it brings a tear to my eye, literally. 

Rant over.

Pornbook?

Facebook lost quite a lot of users a couple of days ago... what for? Cyberbullying? Boredom? None of these... for it was the big load of hot steamy porn images that flooded newsfeeds across the world that did it! 'Pornbook' as I now like to call it, has been the hub of social interacting since 2004, and with nearly 10 years in the bank, it has decided to sponsor a relatively well known website - Pornhub.

Only joking! But it seems like it, doesn't it?

I remember the day well; 

I had college at 9am sharp, until midday. I struggled to get up that morning due to the lack of sleep the previous night, but I forced myself through my sleepiness and awoke, showered, dressed and made my way into college for a morning of hardcore Shakespeare. It was a slow morning, with a long drag through several literature lessons, but finally, I was able to leave the college and go home. As I walked through the front door I craved a hot cup of tea - but socialising called in first, and I quickly turned on my laptop to check my facebook. I started up iTunes and played a piece of smooth 50's jazz, Nat King Cole - Love Me As Though There We're No Tomorrow, before starting up Safari and clicking my bookmark for facebook. It loaded a while, then...

BAM!!!

A PICTURE OF AN ERECT PENIS WITH A KNIFE THROUGH IT! 

I sat there, and without intentionally wanting to, stared at my newsfeed. What the hell had happened? I left that morning with a relatively clean newsfeed - just the occasional argument and a drunken status here and there. But what was this new venture facebook had gotten into?! I scrolled down and found more of these 'sexplicit' photos: Naked women, naked MEN, dead animals and some 'big-ass boned' lady with some dudes head lost between her legs! -_-

Now, I have been a member of facebook since late 2008, and never have I seen anything like this. I was shocked to say the least. And apparently, it all started from a Sharon O'brien? Who posted naughty underwear shots of herself on her page? But this is normal, we all know somebody who does this... BUT WHERE THE FUCK DID THE SEX AND DISTURBINGLY WEIRD PHOTOS COME FROM?! 

I haven't deleted my account to facebook because I like to SOCIALISE, and not get off to some guy pushing a naked girl into a huge latex vagina! I will precede to play my xbox and tweet on twitter until this explicit rampage has come to a climax!

Rant over.

Guess Who's Back...

Let's just say it's been a while... just over a week, since my last post, and I'm back with a vengeance! My whole week has been jam packed with, how do I put this, very interesting 'goings-on'.

Breakdown;
A trip to Brighton to the theatre, a very smelly train ride home, along with a cheeky bit of shopping. Essay writing, parents evening, cola drinking and even a wee bit of eating here and there. I've been a busy lad, and I haven't had time to inform you of any stories lately, and for that I'm sorry.

But I'm back, and I'm staying.

Rant over.

R.I.P Fallen Heroes

With the tears a Land hath shed
Their graves should ever be green.
~Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Comment with a heart to show your respect <3

I like the idea of tweed.

This, my friends, has been in the making a number of days now, and I finally feel like I can tell all.

*Be warned, I have just been asleep for 15 minutes or so, meaning my writing may not make sense at some points*

The other day, whilst sitting in a slow-moving english lesson, I, along with some pals, discovered that I would make a pretty decent teacher. Not only that, but a teacher of literature. I came up with the idea of teaching 'modern literature' such as Harry Potter. Then it struck me... why not lecture JRR Tolkein's Lord Of The Rings?! It's perfect - a massive open world with thousands of characters and ideas. 

I then perhaps thought about it in too much detail; How I'd look. My teaching style etc. 

I'll pitch you my idea... 

Maybe without the hunting rifle? -_-

I'd sit there, in my padded desk chair, in a green tweed jacket, matching waistcoat and trousers to fit. A monocle on one eye, and a small glass of brandy in my right hand, with a pipe sitting neatly between my lips. 

"Morning class! Right, straight to work. Discuss the reason for hobbits and their hairy feet. 3000 words. Go."

In hindsight, the way I would dress and my teaching style may be a little prehistoric for students of the modern day, and sipping brandy in a glass - just wouldn't happen. But moving swiftly on. 

At the end of a hard days teaching, I'd return home to my little hobbit hole, in 'Downtown Middle Earth' which is suitably located just under the equator. Not south. But just underneath the equators line. In a hole. Don't mind me.

I really think, with a few tweaks, I could do this in later life. What do you think? How about a fictional diary in the meantime to bring my posher-self to life? 

Rant over.

That problem we all face...

I can tell you now readers, I'm certainly not the only one who's been through this little predicament.

We all fall a foul (excuse the unintentional pun) of this slight problemo. And who should we blame? Our mum? No. Our dad? No. Our siblings? No. Ourselves for being too fussed with relieving ourselves to forget one vital ingredient in the miracle of 'lavatory etiquette'? I think so I'm afraid. We bring this shit-heap (and again -_-) of a problem down on ourselves. I find it amusing how much we tend to forget about the toilet paper, even when the idea of making 'bodily recycling' has crossed our minds minutes, even hours before. 

*Please excuse all the random substitutions for having a shit, I just cannot bring myself to say all the other vulgar terms... oh crap...*

We all have experienced the wonders of school, college or university, and for some reason, for years of our lives, we're put off using the toilets provided for us. Why is this? I reckon us as a collective don't want to embarrass ourselves whilst making a 'poo-poo' because we're worried that we may squeeze out a cheeky bit of wind and become the laughing stock of the institution. Who cares?! Everybody in the world and their grannies do it. 

This is a random rant and forgive me for being quite disgusting in my language and manner. Sorry.

Rant over.

"Life is never easy for those who dream..."

Nearly every morning I wake up, and think 'Fuck, that was a pretty good dream" But you are always unable to get back to sleep and back into that dream which makes you feel like a totally new person and lets you live, not by any old rules, but by your rules.

I love writing. It gives me a ticket to escape the natural universe and become a member of my own little world. Somewhere where I take things for granted and live every moment as if it's my last. I think an awful lot too. Sometimes good things. Sometimes bad things. But that's beside the point in my little world - I can be who I want to be there and not worry about being brought down. 

Not only do I do this whilst I'm writing, and sleeping... but I do this whenever I walk somewhere, where I'm on my own. I put some music in. I'm there. You may do this from time to time too. 

I feel like jumping. Out of nowhere. And know for a fact that when I land, I'll be fine.

I forget my troubles and forget my worries. Just for a second. A minute maybe. 

And when I come back to reality, I'm a different guy. A nicer guy. Somebody someone can love.

Rant over.