Good old BBC news.

On the 10 O'clock news today there was many a piece on the flooding. One included the line "Even the dead can't escape" before cutting to showing a flooded (well heavily waterlogged at any rate) cemetery.

This was brilliant as before then I was contemplating suicide as an escape method due to my mistaken belief that for some inexplicable reason corpses can escape floods. But that's out of the pan now, because evidently being dead, and then being buried is enough to stop people getting away from oncoming water.

Seriously though, a cemetery is basically some ground, ground does get wet when it rains, very wet when it floods. Was the BBC journalist really expecting that alongside the emergency shelters there'd also be emergency graves set up. We'd dig up the bastards and bury them in some mass grave on a hill until the water level drops again or something. Talk about fucking sensationalism of the media, those bastards just tell us the fucking news I don't want to hear extra bits unless it is a joke like Nick Robinson keeps throwing in.

Still I suppose it'd be a good tagline for a movie "Even the dead can't escape 'THE FLOODS'"

Futility

I don't sleep much for a fair amount of the time, especially recently, I have issues switching my brain off and have recently been forced to watch crap TV in the early hours of the morning (which is much harder to do now there are all these Quiz shows which provide no entertainment whatsoever) and scouring the internet for crap to distract my mind from thoughts.

Thoughts I don't really like thinking as they ain't exactly jolly little scamps that where they to be metaphors would be sugar canes, lovable street urchins and horny unicorns. Were they to be a metaphor these thoughts would probably most resemble the character Case from the book Neuromancer (brilliant book I advise all to read it) especially at the beginning of said book where his life is worthless and he is partaking in every self destructive action possible etching out an existence in the shadowy underworld that is leading to his inevitable death.

The comparison with that fictional character isn't fluke as most of said thoughts are about how I'm etching out my existence towards my inevitable death. Now unlike Case I'm not bringing death upon myself and out to destroy me (least I don't think so), but I have started dwelling on things that are fairly morbid as I struggle to get my life on line.

Now I might be retrospectively screwing with myself but it seems to me now that I never really had a care. I went through school, got to university never bothered with a social life particularly as I ain't that socially confident plus it seemed a bit pointless. Most stuff seemed pointless, the goal laid out before me was to get into University which wasn't that challenging for me as I am not unclever. I never really thought about if I wanted to go into university, what I wanted to do, I played it all by ear. Go to university, get a good graduate job, earn money to be comfortable then die. That was it for me, the grand scheme.

Now however I have fallen into the trap of wanting more from my life than to go through the motions until I die. I'm in university purely because going into university was what I was meant to do. I'm doing a subject that interests me, though academia doesn't, I can write an essay, I can read and understand texts. Constantly doing it bores me though, I enjoy seminars, going and talking about stuff, getting contrasting opinions and I enjoy challenging ideas and having mine challenged. Essays and exams do that to a degree but aren't the same. I'm stuck searching for a sense of fulfilment from what I'm doing now and I don't get it. I'm not being challenged and I find myself wasting allot of time doing stuff I shouldn't be rather than working as hard as I could because it seems pointless. Working harder getting better marks won't make it more fulfilling, beyond actually getting a degree I don't really care.

Truth be told getting a degree isn't the most important thing for me sometimes. A fact that worries me allot, I seem to struggle to care about stuff, stuff I feel I should be caring about. Getting a degree is there so I get a graduate job and a nice wage and live comfortably. Getting the degree ain't setting my world alight, I like some of the reading and the political ideas I'm getting and the increased understanding I'm getting from going to lectures and seminars and reading some of the reading but the degree itself seems a bit pointless. I don't know what I'll do afterwards what career I want to go into. The graduate job to comfortable life thing isn't really that appealing. I want to be challenged have a sense of achievement and I couldn't give a fig about living comfortably. Life is finite, always seemed a bit silly going out to make lots of money, enough to live somewhere and eat and that'll do me. I ain't exactly someone who wants for stuff.

Thus I find myself with a very distracting quagmire of thoughts, which is hindering me and my going through things. I have never cared about stuff, I went through life as a reckless youth figuring I'd get through somehow and that nowt would have much of an effect. Now I'm starting to feel that I should be caring about stuff, and prioritising and planning my future. Yet I don't know what I want to achieve. Life seems less futile to me, there is scope for enjoyment and fulfilment and I kinda want to have that though I don't know how to achieve it.

All I do know is that the stuff that logically is of paramount importance to me, getting the degree, getting a well paying job and making money isn't really connected to the enjoyment and fulfilment thing. Been running through those motions for all my life and I don't see a continuation of that pattern achieving more than me making money and being bored.

I don't know what this blog is meant to achieve really, more me trying to get thoughts out onto e-paper as by doing so I'm forcing myself to think em through. It seems I'm eager to be challenged and stimulated mentally. I can no longer cope with being bored all the time, I've been going through my whole life taking fleeting moments of stimulation and enjoyment (most of it coming in recent times, joining Lovely and going to Uni, stimulation in terms of playing devils advocate in Seminars and enjoyment in Lovely meets and knowing Status) but putting it aside as not important in the long run and I can't bring myself to continue with that pattern.

Meh, now I gotta work out what to make with my life now that I have priorities and stuff, all the time while continuing the degree and existence I'm not that fussed on despite knowing its importance. Why do there have to be different types of importance for me to have to juggle so that I can do all the things that are important even though they might conflict.

Also why do I have to go through working out what direction to take my life at the same time as trying to achieve a degree which while isn't hard still requires me to devote some time and effort towards.

Delay for the planned blog.

I was going to do a blog on my take of the futility of life and how I am desperate for something to perk my attention and keep me going as its getting harder and harder to bother to do anything as it never seems to achieve anything. However I got post today what with it being Valentines and all and it was unexpected and made me fantastically happy (though I am still dead on the outside and despite feeling like I'm smiling I'm not) so it'll be held off.

Why do I do it?

OK as this blog is advertised about the internet pretty liberally I'll start with an explanatory bit of sorts, even though most of you will know this.

1) I am a politics student. Whilst not very studious I know politics and am into politics and get a bit different and excitable when discussing it and being involved in it. Where it not for the fact that I am sometimes slightly disgusted with the way my mind works when it gets going in political mode I'd be really keen on going into PR or politics.

2) I'm a citizen of an internet country called Lovely ( http://citizensrequired.com for the official website which hasn't been updated in ages and links to the official forum that's been locked for a while as there is some legal stuff being sorted out, http://citizensrequired.org for a link to all the sites that have been created in relation to the country, including many forums that are now being worked on).

OK with those two things in place let me tell you this. Lovely is approaching a time of election as the Prime Ministers only have 6 monthly terms. There is allot of uncertainty about this as with the main boards closed we've scattered to a variety of other forums as some citizens had an argument prior to closure and some are still pissed with each other.

I've watched growing increasingly frustrated as people were generally being idiots over standing for election and proposing ideas that I really couldn't envisage working with things how they were, or even if they did work achieving anything beyond being something that worked yet didn't achieve anything. Thus I decided to go into Lovely Politics and gone about the campaigning in such a way that I've basically posted on every forum I could be arsed to find (5 of them) a unique post (though covering the same ground) expressing my intention to run for prime minister and then covering my broad vision which is basically unifying the country again and making it more country like.

This has taken me into the early hours of the morning and yet I cannot sleep as I am scheming. I desperately want people to be awake and responding and doing stuff so that I can make my next moves and progress the campaign onwards. I don't even know when or if this election will come into being. I enjoy it, it'll be exercising my mind and it's not terrible. But I scare myself with how easily I fall into things and how excited political things get me. It's not normal. I'm too lazy to harbour dreams of being involved in politics to any significant degree yet it seems to be my calling to a degree. However much I like writing and stuff, other than making jokes and people laugh, having a manipulative edge and thinking in a Machiavellian is the only thing to come naturally to me.

This Broken Home (Office)

Special mention for Meow who was very keen on me gracing the pages of my blog with some soapboxing that might amount to something slightly satirical.
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So the Home Office is to be split up into a department of JUSTICE (doesn't that just sound straight out of a comic book doesn't it) and the department of SECURITY (also slightly comicbookesque. It seem the despotic future that folks like Alan Moore have hinted at is upon us).

Now this is all well and good as the Home Office is apparently "unfit for purpose" and there have been some fairly large cock ups from it as it does have a massive remit to juggle. But how can we separate anti-terrorism messures from "Justice" with many of them revolving around forcing us to have ID cards (which I'm only opposed to paying for, not having. I'll pay for a passport as it lets me go abroad, I'll pay for a driving licence as it lets me drive, I won't pay to be a damned citizen) and agreeing just how many human rights for suspected terrorists can be broken by deciding to lock them up without charge for longer than say rapists, paedophiles and drug dealers.

Security and Justice, Law and order they're all interlinked hence them being in the same department to begin with. Plus allot of the apparent failures aren't really failures at all. Much complaint has been levied due to the lack of any numbers in regards to how many illegal immigrants we have in the UK which is a bit silly as if you can count them you can stop them entering the country.

Will this help, possibly still strikes me as just doing something purely to look like they're doing something and thus appeasing everyone who is forever moaning about everything.

The Weary.

It wasn’t working. Steve had read enough books and watched enough TV and movies to know that standing in the rain was meant to be an experience. He was meant to be cleansed and refreshed and have some great realisation once he has come to terms with things. It had been two and a half hours and all he was feeling was cold and wet. Maybe he should’ve been more cynical about it, decided it was just some clichéd dramatic device before the risk of hyperthermia had grown so great he mused as he slowly plodded back towards his house from the end of the garden.

Sighing he opened the back door and walked into the warmth of his house. Despite the warmer temperature of the house Steve found that being inside chilled his very soul.

‘So damned silent’ he cursed as he shook his head and contemplated going back in the rain. A sneezing fit overcame him and as he sought something to wipe his snotty hand and face with he decided that a warm bath might be a wiser idea.

Walking to the kitchen side where the kitchen towel stood proudly he pulled some pieces off and cleaned the snot off his hand and face as well as drying his face off generally. Smiling as he caught his reflection, he realised that the contracting of face muscles was the most pathetic lie in the history of existence. His eyes still bore that sullen look no the grin didn’t stop that being blatantly obvious. They were the eyes of a stranger, a traveller who had become weary of the world and wished to find somewhere to rest their troubled bones, seeking comfort one last time before they let life slip from their grasp. Anger welled up within Steve. ‘Don't look at me like that' he spat turning quickly to get away from the reflection and stormed out of the kitchen.

Running up the stairs he made it to the Bathroom quickly. Turning the taps on and waiting for the tub to fill he sat on the tub’s edge. He sighed again, his body lacking the ability to express the tortured mutterings of his soul in any other manner.

‘You have to get a grip of yourself Stevie’ he said lifting his head up to face the ceiling and closing his eyes. His very reflection was haunting him now, before it was just being in the empty and quiet house. Fighting against the silence that was mocking the laughter that filled every room before they left him alone, he couldn't stand the house mocking the memories he had of them he had to make a stand. It was taking its toll, people at work mentioned he seemed down, he laughed it off but this was a war of attrition and the silent empty house was doing significantly better than he was.

With the Steam gathering in the room he got up and turned on the extractor fan. The bath was almost full so he put a tentative finger in to gauge the temperature. It was just right so he stripped out of the sodden clothes that clung to his skin leaving them in a pile in the corner and stepped in. The heat seeped into his body as he lowered more of his frame into the water. At last he lay in only his head above the steaming water and felt relaxed. It was times like this he realised how stupid he was being raging against the silence that filled the house. Christine and Jeff had left they weren’t there to make noise anymore, the silence wasn’t stalking his every step within the house taunting him for being too cowardly to go with them as Christine took up the opportunity to do what she always dreamt of doing.

He had been too cowardly of course. Steve knew that, as did Christine, he loved her dearly and missed her so much it hurt. As did he miss Jeff the five year old son she had. It was obviously a mistake to let them go off and stay behind, he just figured it would be like before they moved in and he’d get back to normal. The hell he was experiencing wasn’t what he expected life to be like when he broke things off with Christine and wished her luck with the future. It was time for Steve to own up to making a mistake and stop the personification of silence into some sort of mischievous spirit that sought to make his life a misery. He didn’t expect his life to seem so bad once they left because he underestimated just how great life was with them.

It was time to put things straight, phone Christine see if he couldn’t make things right again. Filled with a renewed sense of drive and purpose he practically leapt over the side of the bath. Barely pausing to touch the ground before moving his weight forward towards where his towel hanged. He went downwards rather than forwards though as his wet feet slipped on the lino flooring. Startled he gasped as a blob of white swarmed into vision and a loud crack filled the room. He hit the floor with a dull thud but he barely registered it as his world became black and silent. He looked as peaceful as a babe lying on his bathroom floor unconscious as a pool of blood gathered under his fractured skull.