Faintly there comes the dull rattle of machine-guns

Last week I mentioned something about moving house by the end of January. Hasn't happened. Quite frankly, this is a good thing; the house we are going to move into isn't ready, my bedroom-to-be (???) still needs wallpaper stripping.

We no longer have to be out by January anyway because one of my neighbors has signed a lawsuit, or something, so that the person trying to buy our place basically can't until stuff is sorted out properly. Even though said neighbor was offered something like 35 grand to move to a new place, and the person buying offered to help find said new place for him.

So yeah, anyway.

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I think I watched the worst film I've ever seen last night. It was called '2012: Doomsday', obviously to cash in on the success of '2012'... by trying to fool people into thinking they;re buying a copy of '2012'? Seems to have worked, cos my dad brought it. Not surprisingly, it had an apocalyptic theme that was set in the year 2012. However, probably unlike '2012' -I have to admit I haven't actually seen '2012' yet- 'Doomsday' turned out to be a story about faith and god killing nearly all human life on the planet so that human life could 'start again', like a second Noah's Ark flooding thing, just with everything else as well. Aside from the terrible plot, the film was absolutely jam-packed with cheap special effects ('special' as in 'special needs' perhaps?), bad acting, bad direction, stereotyped characters, and more pretentious christian faith stuff than you can shake a crucifix at.

For god sake, save yourselves and do not watch '2012: Doomsday'.

I might revise that and put it in a magazine.

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I'm listening to 'Mechanize' by Fear Factory while writing this. Don't normally listen to much metal, but I'm kinda liking this.

www.myspace.com/FearFactory

Check them out. They pioneered melody in death metal and seem to enjoy making concept albums, so you could argue they're sorta like Pink Floyd for metal?

Thank Myles Dyer for making me aware of them. blade376.com/

'Final Exit' is brilliance.

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I just finished writing my Literature essay about Journey's End. I'm quite pleased.

For those who are curious, Journey's End is a play set in the First World War written by someone who fought in it, based on their experiences.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Journey%27s_En Here you go, can't be arsed to write about it again.

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"Very faintly there comes the dull rattle of machine guns and the fevered spatter of rifle fire." - Extract from Journey's End.

Had an exam today, but you don't wanna hear about that. I'll blog about a dream I had instead.

Had a strange dream last night... or a night at least. I think it was last night. Lets just assume it was.

Had a strange dream last night. Could almost call it a nightmare, first one I've had in literally ages.

Started off normal enough, as dreams do, with me and my family in our car driving towards a tunnel on a motorway. Except we couldn't go through the tunnel, because of a large fire blocking the exit. So we turned round, and went onto this 'spaghetti junction' type road. On a completely separate lane, there was this large, menacing looking dark green military vehicle which doesn't exist in real life that had crashed. Seemingly one of its computer system thingies had malfunctioned because it was firing missiles going every which way into the sky. I worked out that it was one of those that caused the tunnel-entry-blocking fire, and realised that we were in danger of dying when I looked out of the window only to see one of the missiles coming towards us.

I literally thought I was going to die.

And then of course, I woke up. It was like when, back in the good ol' days of 'video', when someone recorded something wrong so that the very end of a programme was missing. Except this time, I didn't really want to know what happened.

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"I literally thought I was going to die.

And then of course, I woke up."

Biggest. Cop out. Evar.

I should be writing an essay anyway. Not this toss.

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"Goodbye everybody." - Dr Nick, The Simpsons

[/WARNING/:/caution//WARNING/]

ZOMGZ YOU DIDN'T POST YESTERDAY!!!!!!111111!!11!11ONE!

But its ok cos nobody's reading this anyway.

[/WARNING/: MIND NUMBINGLY EYEMELTINGLY UNINTERESTING STORY /WARNING/]

So got home from school today, only to remember I had my annual appointment at the childrens hospital for a doctor to inspect my nose. At 5:50. This was 4:30. Meh, plenty of time.

A few years back I had to go to hospital to have some polyps surgically removed from my nose as they were blocking it (they were literally about the size of grapes). Because I have cystic fibrosis, having the anaesthetic for it would decrease my lung function by 40-50%, whereas any normal person would only suffer a decrease of about 20%, which is why I had to spend a week in a shared ward with tubes up my arms being pumped with stuff and cat piss every morning and evening.

Anyway, one impromptu trip to the CH with my dad later, we arrived on time, saw the doctor, he looked up my nose, told me I had loads of (presumably little) polyps that were surely affecting my smell and taste and got me thinking about when I should have them removed. But basically, everything turned out fine.

Oh, and my brothers mate came round and played Guitar Hero 5 and laughed at failblog for a while.

Right, thats todays blog, now if you excuse me I've got to go and type words into openoffice and call it a 'Literature essay'.

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"I'm just a regular guy." - Ty the regular guy, Wheezywaiter's tuesday vlogs

Anywho.

I've been blogging for a week now, every day, without fail. Give the man a medal. Or... not. Y'know. Whatever. It's cool. Bastards.

Blogging everyday. Wonder how much longer that'll last.

Anywho.

Spent most of my school day at the Crescent Theatre today. Watched a sort-of production aptly (though not particularly interestingly) titled 'The Poetry Show'. It was four actors, one of them a sort-of host, the others all taking part in a 'competition' in which they would perform their interpretations of particular poems to win the audiences favour. Some of the interpretations/performances were actually quite good, involving props, quick costumes and the other actors taking small parts.

Overall the production featured the actors all interacting with the audience at some stage, bringing a microphone into the seating for people from whichever school (there were several schools apart from my own there as well) to comment on the performances, and at one point hot-seat the actors who would play a certain persona (ya see Mrs Tinson?) as portrayed in certain poems.

The poems in question by the way, were all from an anthology we all had to study. It was obvious how the whole production was meant to help us in our GCSEs. The give away was a section they did about half way through specifically about answering exam questions. Nail biting stuff.

Returned to school just in time for lunch, a half hour registration (grr, I think I'll do a blog just to rant about that one day...) and a lesson of Literature. And an after school revision session for Geography.

And I don't really know why, but I've felt a little angsty all through today.

Ahh well, Mondays blog. I hope I don't bore you to death with these things.

Hehe, I love the way I assumed my Literature teacher will read this at some point.

Is that a bad sign?

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"My entrance is my own creation, my grand finale, my good bye." - Public Image Ltd, 'Public Image'

Anyway.

Just listened to Kid A, Amnesiac, Amnesiac b sides and I Might Be Wrong: Live Recordings by Radiohead all in one go. Wow.

Also watched Fido last night. What bloody fantastic film. Quite gory too.

Anyway.

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So my parents had been threatening to buy a new house for the best part of three years, untill my dad finally bought one last year. Great news, it'll mean I've got a bigger bedroom, my younger brother won't have to sleep with my younger younger brother and I'll be closer to my freinds and it'll all be fantastic.

Me and my brothers and my dad have all been working on it sporadically since before christmas, cleaning it, replacing wallpapers and carpets, putting furnature and all that stuff. Y'know, so you can live in it. Haven't been working on it so much recently, mainly because of christmas and all that excess snow. I was going to go up with dad and do some work today, but realised that wasn't going to happen when I saw the note he'd left on the table downstairs telling me he'd gone on his own. Ah well.

Thing is, the place (an edwardian house split into flats) I live in now is rented, but -if I've heard stuff correctly- we're going to be kicked out by febuary. Which is next week, more or less.

Damn.

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"I don't wanna go..." - 10th Doctor, 'The End of Time (Part 2)'

Saterday's Blog

I had pla -grr, f----ing font...- I had planned to go out today and meet up with some mates, but thanks to last nights watching of Brian Eno and Roxy Music documentries (untill 4am), I overslept. By the time I had got up, had lunch, washed my hair, shaved, dried hair, straightened hair and generally groomed myself, it was past 4pm going on 5.

So I thought 'well whats the point' and decided to stay in and do Literiture coursework due in for monday instead. Wasn't all bad. Its about the last scene of RC Sherriff's Journey's End, which I have really come to admire. I am currently writing an essay of the last scene, powerful stuff. Well, certainly emotional.

So yeah, Saterdays blog. Bring on Sunday...

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"Thank you everybody, Goodnight." - Thom Yorke, live in paris

Not about nothing

Nothing happened again today, I'm not really sure how the logistics of that work either, so I'm not going to write about it. Writing about 'nothing' would be boring enough, writing about it happening again would leave you foaming at the mouth.

So this'll be short.

After all, I've managed to post something everyday for the past week so far and didn't want to break the trend.

I've just watched a documentry about Brian Eno and just realised how bloody fantastic he is.

See? Not about nothing.

Tick Tack Toe

tick tack toe
give me yea give me no
give me three in a row
you got shot by a ufo

tick tack toe
what the hell are we meant to do
when this game gets old
which it inevitably will

tick tack toe
no checkers no board
we just slap each others hands
turn your fingers into a gun

tick tack toe
give me yea give me no
give me three in a row
you got shot by a ufo

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Nothing to write about today. Well I could write about today, but it would bore people into comas. So I decided to post a poem thingy I wrote a while ago about a game I heard two kids playing on the bus once.

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Cystic Fibrosis

I really thought I'd have nothing to type here to today, but it turns out that stuff happened, so I think I will type something.

I reckon it'd be good if I started by typing about how Cystic Fibrosis is a genetically inherited condition, and the fact that I've got it.

Right, done that, good.

I think I'll follow that by explaining a little bit about it.

Alright then. CF is a condition that effects my lungs and my digestive system; the mucus and stuph in my lungs is thicker than in normal peoples lungs, so its harder for my lungs to get rid of, and that means I may cough or become breathless, or get a horrible infection in there, I do treatment every evening to combat this. Also I take tablets every time I eat a meal, because if I don't, my food goes straight through me, nothing vital is absorbed, I get terrible diarrhea and eventually if nothing is done about it I starve.

Just so that doctors and people know that I'm ok and not in any danger of dying or getting my lungs horribly infected (slight exaggeration, perhaps) I go to a clinic at the childrens hospital every couple of months.

I always go with my brother, which makes sense since he's got it too, and we went straight from school to meet up with our mum. Except we couldn't get to outpatients because of a fire alarm (no fire, maybe a drill?) and the place was evacuated and a security guard was standing outside not letting people in. So, since there was no sign of mum outside, we hung around assuming she was late. Eventually she appeared, apparently from inside the building after waiting for far too long. Turned out the outpatients hadn't been evacuated because the alarm that was meant to go off in outpatients didn't, and no one in outpatients could hear the main fire alarm. So yeah, mum wasn't too happy.

And after all that explanation of CF, all those paragraphs, all that build up really was just to tell you about a fire alarm.

I really am just typing for the sake of it.

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If you want to know all about Cystic Fibrosis, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cystic_fibrosis

CF Trust UK http://www.cftrust.org.uk/

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"BYE, BYE, BYE, BYE, BYE!" - Alex Day

Cadbury flavoured

Yesterday I recieved a letter from Cadbury College telling me my application had been accepted, and that to confirm my place at Cadbury's I had to write my details on a postcard which I had to send back ASAP, which I did, and then turn up at the induction day later in the year.

It also told me the GCSE's I'd be required to get before they would let me in. I was pretty chuffed to discover that I already had said qualifications (5 GCSE's of grade C or above is what I needed including at least a grade C in English). I was told I got my A grade in English on friday.

So yeah,

Charlieissocoollike I pwnd you!!! Well, at English anyway. You did get a 'B' in the subject didn't you? Otherwise I'd be epicly failing rather than rubbing it in your face...

Today however, I discovered how Cadbury (the chocolate company, no relation to the college as far as I know) had sold out to an american company called Kraft.

Now all the Dairy Milk I eat -hydroginated fat an' all- will be american produced instead of british produced, if my understanding of how manufacturing and stuff works is correct (which it probably isn't).

I can hear George Cadbury spinning in his grave at 1000mph right now.

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"Fare-the-well" - Adamthealien

Hello, is there anybody in there?

"Hello and welcome, now bugger off"

Something I saw on someones doormat once when on holiday. I thought it was amusing.

Right, hi. Are introductions nessicary? I suppose...

I'm a 16 yeat old on his laptop in his bedroom. I really have nothing much to say other than "ZOMG I'm Borrreeeeed!!!", so rather than post that on facebook or twitter, I thought I'd make this instead.

I'm not sure why. Nobody is going to read it anyway. I guess I'll just put random thoughts here, get stuff off my chest. I am an optimist, honest. If I wasn't I'd have given up on life ages ago.

Goddamnit, now I just sound emo.

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Right, what are blogs for?

Yesterday I went to the national Autosport Live show thing. Lots of pretty cars and pretty women, a spectacular live show and Jenson Button. Would have enjoyed it alot more if there weren't so many people around. Ah well, live show was brilliant, and seeing Jenson Button too. And Richard Noble! The man behind the worlds fasted cars, he's about to make one that goes 1050mph. He stood a few feet infornt of me taking a picture with somebody else. I didn't talk to him, wouldn't know what to say.

Poor old Jason Plato at the live show... "I've always wanted to do this... HELLO BIRMINGHAM!" *silence*

B'ham makes a useless audience.

I went up to 'pigeon park' on Saterday for the first time in ages. Only been once before, and I think I should go again. Lots of fun, even if you're not really doing anything -somehow-.

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...How do end a blog entry exactly? Not like this, probably.

I'm not going to set a target or posting 'schedule' or anything like that. I don't want to put 'every day' and have someone look at my lack of posts and smirk to themselves.

I'll just end with a quote from youtube's Adamthealien;

"Fare-the-well."

It seems appropiate. Did I spell it right?