Picture Perfect

These words are soundless. Yep, these ones right here. The ones which you're reading this instant. They make no noise, do they? No.

I would therefore like to take the opportunity soundlessness affords me to take a step back from the glowing of my monitor, take a deep breath, smile shortly, throw my head back and scream. Imagine this, dear user. Imagine.


For the reason why I scream is due to scary things.
Remember my resolution to do one thing which scared me at least once a week? Well, I was practically living life on the edge when ploughed through local poetry publishers and competitions, sifted through university courses (and uncovered a great many new, interesting ones) and finally, the coup-de-grace, sent an e-mail to *the girl.*


And so I have just discovered the reason why I always see what the worst possible outcome of every situation is.
It's because that's what usually happens. :'(

If the worst possible outcome of rockclimbing avec safety equiptment, is the unlikely prospect of being dropped by the guy holding you at the bottom, that's what would happen to me. And it has. The two times I've been rock climbing, at different occassions, years apart, different locations and people, I was dropped. One 5 feet from the bottom, and once right at the top. I kind of grabbed on to sticking-out-bits as I fell and succeeded in not hitting the bottom with a splat.


If the worst possible scenario of horse riding avec trained horse is it won't move, it's happened to me (well, they were using western saddles, and I use two hands on the reigns! And come on, the female horse I was on had a male horse back at the barn calling her. Like I stood a chance).

Therefore, the worst possible outcomes always occur with me. And with the things I did in the past few days have been no exception:


There were no local publishers of poetry (magazines et. al.) and the poem-publishing-people are only interested in manuscripts of 100 poems or more (book size) which I simply do not have. Most poetry competitions closed on the day I found them. None of the university courses I was interested in were availible in the universities I wanted, and worst of all, it's been 3 days with no reply from *the girl.*


I fear the worst.
I fear she's cottoned on to something, and simply isn't interested, but is too polite/scared to say so, and will therefore wait until I go away and vanish from the scene. Which won't be long.
So I could either painfully press on, or drop it all right away.


Whilst I'm inclined to do the latter, and whilst every fiber of my brain screams at me it's the wisest thing to do, I somehow think I'll end up doing the former. Sad, isn't it? I know Cat agrees. Bexy probably does too.

I'm just really dissapointed, is all. And slightly saddened. *sigh.*

I feel like listening to "Bad day" by Daniel Powter. But there's a happy ending in the video where the two people meet up, so I'd get even more upset.



But enough of this drivel! Enough of these silly thoughts! I shall cast all these fetters of reality away from me! And I shall....do something or other....sometime....somewhere...Or something.


On a much happier note, I'll be visiting my friend Jo. This is Jo from the zoo.
If she didn't read this blog, I'd tell you a secret or two. But she does so I won't. Meh heh heh.

Instead, you shall have to be secure in the knowledge that I'm going to her home-town, picking up some tasty deals on socks (I have discovered it's the socks which hold me back in college. Washing, I mean. I run out of them after about 12 days (I have 12 pairs. That's right, one pair a day. Hygenic, no?) and so chuck all my socks inside the washer. Which costs me about £1 a pop. In the land of "I'm a poor student" I don't have £1. Especially when £1 is enough to buy me 3 slices of an 18 inch pizza. That's right, you heard. £3 ($5.70) for an entire 18-inch-er, split three ways (no one can have an ENTIRE pizza to themselves, no matter how cheap it is)). So. Socks. Here I come.
Oh. And I need a cheap iron. I discovered though I could wash shirts, I can't actually iron them. I therefore need one. And if the fabulous wonder-world of Tesco has them, I'd get books. Though the memory part of my brain has just informed me they do not have a book section. So scratch that idea. And back to Books etc. for that.

---WARNING: you can leave now. The rest is rubbish.----
I have just discovered that I will be passing helen on the way here. She has commented twice on this blog, once to assure me everything is ok with *the girl* and the other to inform us all that she likes cauliflower. I have promised to find her. I shall go to HER hometown first, hoot my horn through EVERY street, and shout her name from the sun-roof of my car. When I locate her, I shall bid her a good day, and continue on my travels.


Hmm. Most likely, I shall smile to myself as I pass her hometown, as I realise I know someone who lives there.



The first time I drove to Jo's hometown, I ended up in my grandfather's hometown. At least, 3/4s of the way there [I didn't visit, as it was about 6:30am. I don't think he would have appreciated quite such an early wake up call]. I had - obviously - gone in the wrong direction. About 12 degrees off on the map. Which means had I continued in a straight line, I could have ended up in northern wales! Wouldn't want that, would we? No. The road to Jo's hometown is filled with many dangers lurking on the way. I was lucky to get there alive. Once at her hometown, there's a labrynth of roads coming off loads of roundabouts, each which takes you directly to another part of the country. Manchester, Bristol, Newcastle...Everywhere I don't want to go. Jo's hometown is therefore heavily defended against the unaware-motorist, ready to send them on a one-way trip to the opposite end of the country should they so much as take a single wrong turn. At least, that's how it feels.



I have discovered the way to avoid this, is to follow the wise instructions: "go in a straight line after the first right."
I've never actually seen/been to Jo's house. In fact, the only things I've seen in her hometown, are the shopping centres (AKA Londoner's paradise) and the cinema. And the train station.
Jo's seen my house. And street. And car (obviously).


I've managed to ramble on about my mundane life for a while. I don't feel better. I feel sad again. I'll go to bed now. Afterall. it is 2:00am.

And true to the last post, I have undertaken at least one thing this week which has scared me. I admit, it doesn't take much to scare me. But the thing which has scared me this week, are not spiders, moths, or other creeping/flying insects from hell. No.


They say the world is your oyster, that you can do anything you want.
Though I feel that to be nonsense, I am but young in life and cannot fully assertain the credits of that statement, and therefore plead ignorance. But taking a random guess at that, I'd say it was made up by optimists to keep the smile on the faces of the ever-growing apathetic youth...
Much the same way "It's good luck if pidgeons pooh on you!" was probably made up by the first unfortunate chap who was poo'd on by said bird. And the world, fools it comprises, regurgatate the cliché with silly smiles plastered on their faces.

Me...I'm a realist. Clearly the dude who was poo'd has an unfortunate mess to clean up. And I may laugh at them. Sorry.


And so untrue clichés abound our earth, as prevelant as spelling errors in my blog. Or in some people's bogs.
My main problem with the former cliché, is that no one mentions the fear involved of doing those things.

For the only thing which has scared me in any of the undertakings, is not the undertaking itself, but fear.


So I went to THE major bookstore here, WHSmiths. What a dissapointment! What a poor selection of books! I never realised how bad it was until I actually got there. Next time I'll go to Books Etc. or another reputable, proper, bookstore. WHSmiths appears to have become nothing more than a stationary shop stationery in it's product list (hey. It could have been worse. I could have said a stationery stationary shop).

So, dissapointed that there appeared to be no publishers of modern poetry in the entire world, I went back home and surfed the internet for alternate publishers. And what a treasure store of publishers I found! Obviously, there would be no point in sending any poem to a large publishing firm, as they'd probably use any MS I gave them as fax paper or something.
So my current plan of action is as follows:


Plan of Action

1) Send every poem I have to every poem competiton in the UK
2) Win monetary prizes
3) Take money from said monetary prizes, and use it to post every poem to every publishing house the world over, complete with SAEs.
4) Burn the thousands of rejection letters which will find their way to me Harry Potter style (through the fireplace, etc)

Not bad, eh?


What Will Actually Happen
- Because my Plans and Reality are Two Seperate Things Entirely.
- - I Mean. If my Plans Worked Out, I Would Rule the World [And Good Job I'd Do Too!], And Thursdays Would Be Known As "Hail DJ Days."
- - - And Everyone Would Be Forced To Eat Cauliflower.
- - - - As Punishment For Anything Bad They Did.
- - - - - Because Everyone Hates Cauliflower.
- - - - - - God, I'm so Self-Obsessed, Aren't I?
- - - - - - - I do It On Purpose, Don't Worry.
- - - - - - - - This Title is Longer Than My Life!
- - - - - - - - - Wow. This Looks Like The Audio Track Titles On a Very Bad CD.


1) Enter selected poetry competitions.
2) Fail, go home, pack up, forget about this whole episode.


I'm not a pessimist...No matter what Arty wants to believe :p
I'm not an optimist either.
I'm a realist.

Therefore, i've manufactured an alternative path from number 2 onwards:

2) I win something.
3) Send poems into local poetry publications and other selected magazines willing to accept the work of a no-one. But hey! Even Einstein started somewhere.



The other matter is *that girl.*
Against my better judgement - or more pessimistic judgement - I did something. It doesn't end there [though for years I've been doing nothing at all, so "something" is an achievement of it's own]. Something normal people would call "making contact," mad people would call "talking to One of Them!" and what smitten people would call "the scariest experience of my life."

I'm going with the latter.
I won't tell you about it. Yet. Because it's boring. I didn't even get swallowed into the ground.


The other thing which scared me, was looking at Ned's blog.
I wasn't scared because it was Ned's blog, though that in itself is pretty ground-shaking, but because she spoke about universities, and other such scary subjects.

Had she not done so, I wouldn't have gotten scared, wouldn't have scoured the net for other university courses, wouldn't have realised York university is in the Top-10 list in the UK, and wouldn't have realised there's an archeology course going on there which I could get in to.

Archeology! WOO!
Though of no practical use except as an archeologist (glorified digger), this is something which I am extremely interested in. Being a student of History, and loving the outdoors, it's right up my alley.

This is the sort of subject I'd consider taking instead of Law & Anthropology. Though with the Law and Anthro. course I could end up with a BA or LLB depending on my course options. I'm aiming for the LLB.

If, for whatever reason, I am unable to take Law&A, or Archeology, my next choice would be Nanotechnology, which has practical use only in the industry, obviously. After that, AI + Philosophy, which has no practical use at all, unless I'm ever employed by a robotics company to think about the consequences of robotics on the psyche, which is not very likely, is it? We have to be frank.

-----------------------------
Responses


Ned, I thank thee for your e-mail. I realised later that I could have just swiped it from your past comments in my blog, but it's politer to ask for it :p
Jumping out of a plane? That is pretty scary.
But I'm reluctant to give the satisfaction to those who've said to me "oh, just go jump out a plane" or something of the like... :p


Bexy, you're just jelous Arty gives me more attention than you :p


Arty, you're an optimist through and through!


Rosie, thanks for the spelling correction...You can poke your brother until he updates too. Then hire your brother to poke PNB for us, until PNB updates. But WHY is his blog dead? Too much work? Just wait until the study leave, be bored out his mind. Meh heh heh.


Take care, all.

It's amazing how we are presented with a choice, a path to tread through life. Each descision we make creates a different future, such little things have such profound results. Smiling at a person (see poem on smiling below), offering a helping hand...

It all makes a wonderful difference.
My mother was recently told by someone my age that they used to have a crush on me, and follow me around everywhere - yes, they told my mum (why can't pretty girls tell ME that? Gah.) As it happens, therefore, my mother knew before I did. But the events she referred to were all so long ago.

I just couldn't help wondering how different life would be if I'd admitted to this girl back then that I too liked her somewhat...For she was my very first crush.

The Life of Me: Revisited

I would have been an entirely different person.
I wouldn't have gone to the high school I ended up going to, and would not have been the head boy there. I therefore would have a completely different set of friends.
I don't think I would have done as well as I did on any of my exams, GCSEs or A Levels. I wouldn't have been as studious, and would have been far more lazy than I am now.
I wouldn't be in the college I went to now, and would end up in a place completely different, if I even decided to go...
Therefore, I wouldn't have this blog, and wouldn't complain about girls and the lack of their impact on my life quite so much.
I made an actual and conscious descision not to establish relationships with girls by the time I was 14, something I don't regret doing, except in times of real loneliness. This wouldn't have been made, and therefore I would have totally different concepts and opinions of love, and conduct towards people.
As I wouldn't have done as well in my exams as I have done now, I would have been caught in the slippery slope of exam resits, which means I wouldn't be able to think about going to red-brick universities such as the London School of Economics (LSE to us Brits), Leeds, Manchester or the sort. I wouldn't study Law and therefore wouldn't have that profession.

In short, my life would be completely different. I would be a different person as a result of different influences which I would have been brought under, and the that future looks quite bleak to me.
All because of one girl.


There are some who are thinking "ha! What nonsense. He's over-reacting!" But this, I'm afraid, is spoken out of ignorance, for you do not know how my community functions as I do, and therefore cannot factor all the things in I have. Therefore you'll have to trust me - in the same sort of way you trust bus driver who could very well be drunk, not to crash whilst you're on the bus...

Each decision counts, for each one is a choice one makes in a maze of never-ending choices which life presents to us. And within those countless choices, life throws us a million opportunities for each thing we think we desire in life...all we have to do, is grab one of them.

And now I have recently been presented with another opportunity. A few, in fact.

The one you all know about is this girl I recently met. Do I say something, transforming the entire future upon whose tracks I am now travelling into something completely different...a new train, new tracks, new stations. Or do I keep quiet, continuing on the journey I have somehow managed to succeed in getting on not too shabbily, this far? There will no doubt be other opportunities for me to grab, but how many Golden Doors open? In a world where there are countless choices, a million opportunities is an astoundingly small number, and the amount of those which are truly Golden is even more small...

The one you don't know about - or the one I haven't voiced in a while - is getting poems published.
The publishers may very well laugh at me, think all my work is entirely rubbish, and unsuitable for publication in any form.
Or they may agree to run it in some place, somewhere for some time, or in some book, thereby opening more and more different doors.

I could get up right now and go to WHSmiths (a bookstore), to see what sort of publishers publish poetry. I could then easily attain their address, and sent them a letter with samples of my work. All this would take a few hours, if that, of one single day. Or I could wait, until the bookstore closes, and until I am shrouded with 1,000 other things to do, and before I know it, am off to the Middle East again, thereby losing my opportunity.

My tiny decision to get up and walk away from my computer at this point is pivotal.
It's a small effort to stand up, and thankfully a small one to walk.
And such a small descison, which takes such little effort, will create for me an entirely different future.

The poem on smiles.

It costs nothing but means a lot
It enriches the receiver without making the giver poor
It happens in a flash but the memory may last forever
No-one is so rich that they can go without one,
And none so poor but are richer for its benefits.
It is rest to the weary and daylight to the discouraged,
Sunshine to the sad heart, and nature’s best medicine in times of sorrow.

Yet it cannot be bought, borrowed or stolen,
For it has no earthly use kept, unless it is given away.
In a rush through this busy life, when one is too tired to give you a smile, leave one of yours,
For no one needs a smile more than those with none left to give
(Anon)
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Responses

Arty, I do hope you'll keep in touch with me. Even though I won't be able to answer any e-mails for weeks and weeks, don't stop sending them because you'll lack a response. I'll get to read them one day, and it'll probably make my day :p
That goes for everyone.

Bex, thankfully I never had any issues with girls for the longest time. They all liked me. Recently, they stoppped. Now I have issues. Meh heh heh.

Rosie, m'dear, why indeed do I say m'dear? I don't rightly know. It just sounds wisdomous and old, and when you ask me about the meaning of life, I feel the occasion calls for it.
What's this about PNB claiming his blog is a dead one?! PNB's blog inspired mine! What shall I do, now my mentor is gone? Bring him back! Or may he be boiled in a vat of flem!

Shan, your math is absolutely fine. Either that, or both our math-skills could use a looking at!

Helen, you're quite right. A couple of years. I don't have a couple of years, I don't think. I'm there now, with her now, exposed to her now. It's now or never.

Ned, it has been an absolute pleasure discussing nonsense with you for the short period of time we discussed it. I would be honoured should you wish to talk more nonsense with me on MSN, or anywhere else. Rest assured, due to your delightful self, you'll have a friend in me, should you so need it. For the next week before I leave to go to the middle east anyway...

Ixion, it may be money which makes the world go 'round, but it's love which keeps it spinning!

Sara, maybe on some level you're right.
But why don't I want to try? Because I'm too scared to. Scared of what? Scared of consaquences if I'm rejected, and they entail far bigger things than me being hurt for a period of time. Rejection I can handle, just about, in some fashion or other. Though Bex may wish to testify against this (mind you, I had some of the funnest times with Bex, whilst coping with rejection of sorts. It was with her where the idea to stick sound files on my blog originated).

So, the stores close in a few hours. Will I sit here and while the time away, or will I get up and go?
So long folks. It's the latter for me. Try, and see what will be. That may become my new motto. And I'm going to force myself to do one thing which scares me, at least once a week.

If the "3 R's" are "Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmatic" then the 2 R's can be Reminiscing and 'Riting. It's funny how "spelling" was overlooked in the glorious British education system of the 50's, isn't it?

As this post is more-or-less a response to people's vindictive verbosity, I'll begin with the responses, instead of putting them at the bottom.

Cat it is the closest I can get to Autumn colours on the pre-sets, and frankly, I can't be bothered to go looking through reams and reams of BlogSpirit code to change the background which is going to change in a couple of months again anyway.
Old people's pants? Don't tell me you've been prying on vulnerable members of society again!

Sara, the age gap is 3 years and 6 months. Which, for me, is fine. if I were 25, I'd have no problems with dating someone who's 22. Though dating someone who's 20 would be a little questionable (what's the bet I end up with someone 20 years of age, when I'm 25? Oh cruel, cruel fate, I do not wish to tempt thee!) Nationality I'm fine with, even though it IS the American nationality we're talking about. Beliefs are not actually vastly different, and our personal beliefs appear to be pretty much the same.

Nor - If that ever happened, I'd sink into the ground and....well, that's bad enough. The prospect of being vaporised due to coming into contact with the Earth's core is something everyone should fear!

Before I reach the main thrust of the post, I'd like to ask the following polite question:
What in God's name and all things holy is up with BlogSpirit?

No longer are we bombarded with blogs about people's personal lives. Oh no. Instead, we are bombarded with published book material. That's right! People go out, buy a book, read it, then proceed to type it ALL up on here! Aside from the copyright issues, and the fact that the publisher is most likely not happy about the fact that their $19.99 book has just been typed up on the net, it bores me silly! If I wanted to read coherent sentences, I wouldn't check blogs!

Novel Blog - "novel," as I found much to my consternation, does not mean "new," "exciting," or anything else with those connotations, but an actual book!

bloggin with schulze - A nice enough name. The post I read opened with "Who is the main character of the novel? How does this character change over the course of the story? How would you describe this character's personality?" At which point I was thinking "no! No, no no nononono!"

http://sarra.blogspirit.com/ - This blog was the same!

http://webblog.blogspirit.com/ - And this!

• The Giver 50 Colton
• Reading Journal
• kISsiNg pAndA
• You can't see California...
• The Anvil Tree

And all the above! And that's the entire list of "recently updated blogs!"

And now, the main thrust of the post. Dear, dear Rosie Gingery (your brother hasn't posted anything for the longest time!) Even though you now have brown hair, you'll always be Rosie Gingery to me.

I haven't joined you in the "love problems club" - I am the sole founding member of the club. I was just pretending to be absent from it for a while. And now, we must remember what the focus of my blog is...

For the truth is, my blog has been functioning for a long time. It will be a year in December. True, not every week has something in it, true, I haven't posted much recently and won't be able to post anything for most of the month of November, all of December, and most of January (sorry, folks! May as well tell you in advance, eh?)...all this is all true. But, otherwise, it's been a year. Almost. Scary really. You've all been following my life for much of a year, and what have you to show for yourselves? I'm sure Solomon was referring to blogging when he said "futility of futilities, all is futile!"

 Let's take a look at December 2004. Selected paragraphs only...

Books usually begin with an introduction - not that I think my life is a book though. If I had to compare my life to a book, it'd probably be a comedy - probably one of those mediocre ones which don't do too well at the box office. Not bottom, but certainly not the top.

You'll notice that this is the first post of every section, indeed, as this is my first post on this blog, or any blog for that matter, I thought I may take the liberty of introducing myself to you, whomever you may be, O random blog viewer. Hence the title, introduction.

Now don't be fooled, i'm not going to tell you where I live, what I do for a living, who my wife is, or any other details of my life here. By now, I expect some are heaving sighs of relief, but to you I say: my life is here for you to discover in the next few weird and wonderful pages which will transpire, hopefully, in the near future...that is, once they've been written. Just for the record, I don't have a wife. Alas. Not even a girlfriend.

And so my whining begins...

And there we have it. My very first entry. My very first comment was an insult - I am somewhat gleeful about this fact. Though it was based on the misunderstanding that I had a problem with smocks. I do not have a problem with smocks. Smocks are good.

But as you can see, I've been moaning about girls from the start. Let's see what the next post was...

Anyway, seeing as the only reason I persue education is to be able to provide sustenance for myself and one day, I hope, a wife and children, I may as well ditch education here and now, find my "one true love," elope to a far away forest, live on nothing but sludge and grass roots, and write poetry on the sad condition of the human race.

Good God! With a blog entry like that, I'd insult me too, if it weren't me! What a depressing guy I was/still am. But, please note that this is still my life long ambition: to find my one true love, live on sludge and grass roots in some dense forest somewhere. What's better than being able to frolick freely through dense forest? And have I really been writing poetry for a year? Whoa.

Now, what follows from there to here, is entirely girl-free posting. "What!" I hear the incredulous cries "and you claim to have deep roots in the matter of being heart-broken! Pah!" But, the reason is I delete them.

Yes, this is a shocking admission. I deleted most girl-related issues from this blog about 4 months ago. But why? It was because of Cat. Though she has commented only once on this blog (an historic moment. And the reply is right in this post, at the top!), she has, without realising it, wielded an astounding amount of influence on this blog. She is the "Illuminati" of this blog, if you will. The invisible hand which dictates what should be, what shouldn't be, and what is, because there's nothing else to do with it. If you don't like this blog, therefore, it's all Cat's fault. Blame her.


The story is, that this blog had to be made Cat-safe. There couldn't be anything in it which incriminated me in anyway whatsoever. And so I censored the blog, and gave her the link. From the moment this happened, my blog became a public place, not one where I could write my deepest thoughts and feelings and get back replies from complete strangers, whose opinions I could be selective about accepting. In short, censorship took my blog away from me! :-O

Since then, I've been playing with the idea of starting a new blog somewhere, where no one knows about, and returning to the original idea of moaning about girls, and every other perceived wrong or good in my life.

And so, you see, this entire blog is the rather long-winded story of how I say "I'm single," time and time again, but in different ways.

Love is the only thing I know of which is beautiful when you have it, horrible when you're pursuing it, and terrible when you don't have it.

For what is life without a little love?
Friendship is love, and as wise people have said many years before me, one who doesn't have a friend, doesn't have love, is dead.

On friendship: it's a strange thing. You never know who you touch through your actions, simply by being you. In my short period of life so far, I can say I myself have seen it first hand. People who I've felt were totally indifferent to me and who I had little to do with, have been those nearest to me all along...

And where were all those others who were my friends?
If Heraclitus is right in his observation that everything in this world is in a state of flux, then I would say friends are the things which are in the greatest state of flux.

Wow. All the above is so philosophical of me. It must be because there's a girl involved. And sure enough, there is. Here's the case:

Age: reason number one why we couldn't be together. I'm not that much older than her, but the fact is, she's younger than me. If we dated in say, 2 or 3 years, no one would raise an eyebrow. If we dated now (regardless of all other boundries to be discussed below) it would raise many eyebrows.

Geography: She's American. I'm English. Our respective homelands are therefore thousands of miles apart. This boundry is quite literally a major distancing factor.

Her: She most likely doesn't know I'm interested in her. This is due to the reasons above, and below. Although she's a smart girl, and I think she's cottoned on to something. Thankfully, I am not deprived of intellect, and have therefore succeeded in getting out of a few...."situations." The end result is she thinks I'm a tad strange (which I am), but thankfully, that's all she does think. It could be worse.

Family: If I ever thought about getting together with this girl, I think the inital reaction of my own family would be "are you serious?" followed by hysteric laughter, then "Oh. You are serious" and that ever-awkward silence which always, always follows. The reaction of her family would probably be: "Um. That's a great idea...but no" - then ensure all family members move away slowly, with no sudden actions, and get a restraining order ASAP. As to the girl in question herself, she'd probably think "eww!" and wouldn't get past there, and if she did, it wouldn't look too good for me.

Side Factor #1:
I've been spending a lot of time around her as of late, and have what is essentially an open invitation into her household. I've been invited to participate in many family events in the future, the future being 8 months, for that is the time when I will return back to England and start university. That is the time when geography truly becomes a seperating force. Until then, this means we get a lot of exposure to each other.

Side Factor #2:
I don't think she'd be interested. Anything which may suggest the contrary, I fear is merely the workings of my own feelings, and is therefore entirely imagined.

Side Factor #3:
I'm scared the above may be wrong, and therefore I won't look for any other opportunities. This means I make no progress anywhere.

Side Factor #4:
I'm scared to make any sort of moves or remote suggestions. This is because her family is extremely religious, and if the answer were to be a "no" (which I fear is the most likely outcome) then it would be a firm and resounding no, with many scary consaquences, like being banished forevermore from ever coming anywhere near their family again. Which is a shame, as I'm quite fond of all the family. Essentially, I'm scared that everything that can go wrong will go wrong - simply because if one thing goes wrong, everything will go wrong.

Conclusion: Due to the 4 "blocking" factors discussed above, and the 4 "Side Factors," I must conclude the liklihood of this ever getting off the ground is about 0.01%. In short, I'm screwed.

If someone else were in this situation, I'd advise them to move on. I could move on. I could move on, find someone nice, and do just fine.
I don't want to move on. I don't want to do just fine. I want this girl. :-(

As a compromise, therefore, I would propose - to myself, for who on earth would have read this far?! - using exposure to said female in question to the maximum capacity of discreet amorous potential in short periods, extended over a large period of time which is the next 8 months of my life.

If I fail, I would have failed forever, for there will be no other chance, no other opportunity.

Now I've set everything out in precise order, analysed the situation, defined the problem, and manufactured the solution in cold logic, I would just like to say, for the record: I'm not really cold. My heart's as warm as pie. It's just. I think I may use logic and long words as a barrier to connecting with a situation or person. Interesting. Extremely interesting. I find I use long words when I'm in potential trouble too. Also interesting. Maybe I should see a psychologist...or save the money and go to some shady medical establishment and get a free brain-transplant in some semi-legal "brain exchange" scheme.

And because it has been suggested to me I need a new subject to write about in poetry, I decided to write about nature. More specifically, the seasons. Even more specifically, Autumn - or as the Americans call it, through the astounding observation that the leaves fall from the trees during this season, fall.

Now, now. Before you think i'm anti-American and start carpet bombing London in the hope of hitting my place of abode, I will tell you all I fully intend on marrying an American girl. Why? I don't know. It's just one of those things.

Anyway, poetry. Here it is:

Autumn's Hand

Now from us the summer departs,
Uprooting itself from upon our hearts,
For who never loved it's scenery,
with blues, and purples, and all it's greenery?

Who disliked the roses red,
And all the colours in the flower bed,
Who didn't enjoy the warmer days,
And complained against the sunny rays?

Sadly, summer can't last all the year,
For in it's place will Autumn appear,
And over the earth it will pass it's hand,
To sweep away these colours grand.

The petals have faded from the roses red,
And all of their colours the flowers have shed,
The Autumn cold replaces summer heat,
And the sky with clouds is now replete.

But all is not lost when Autumn arrives,
For under it's hand the colours still thrive,
For when colours bright are swept from the land,
They are replaced with Autumn's own brand.

Yellows, oranages and that rusty hue,
Are placed on all trees within our view,
And their leaves which fall upon the ground,
Are taken by Autumn and browned.

Look at what the Autumn has done,
To grass once scortched by Summer's sun:
Autumn has painted it green again,
And revived it with all it's rain.

Enjoy all the newness which Autumn brings,
And all the colours it puts in things,
For now it's time to welcome Autumn here,
And say farewell to summer, until next year.
----------

Autumn Elements

Wind in the trees,
Leaves shake and fall,
Coats ruffle, put on with ease.

Clouds in the sky,
Brown on the ground,
Fallen leaves make a rustling sound.

Scarves around necks,
Boots on feet,
Stomp in puddles on outings and treks.

Umbrellas held up,
For rain fills the air,
Falling on those caught unaware.

I like this poem, actually. It's short and to the point. And it remains true to the experiences of Autumn.
-----------------

Live for Life

When's the last time you've admired a flower,
Taken the time to enjoy a Spring shower,
Touched the mildew upon grasses green,
Amd walked under a forest's screen?
- Or was there no time, to do all these things?

Did you ever chance to see,
The meandering flight of a honey-bee,
Or watched the beauty of a setting sun,
Before the Summer's been had and done?
- Or were you too busy, to notice the scene?

Have you ever watched leaves fall on the ground,
Listened to the wind's rustling sound,
Taken the time to admire the scene,
Where Autumn's paint brush has been?
- Or was it too much to do, to glance about you?

Ever wrapped up warm as can be,
And stood at the side of a raging sea,
Or even admired the brilliant sight,
When Winter made the ground all white?
- Or were you too tired, to make such an effort?

Please take your time,
Don't rush so fast,
Admire the beauty,
Around us so vast,
For one day you'll go,
Too late to see,
The earth around you,
With all it's beauty.

Just live for life.
----------------

The above basically means, just in case you didn't realise, open your eyes, you maniac! Too many people rushing too quickly. If you don't ever take the time to look, then how will you see? And there's so much to see, so much to notice. But it's all lost in the bustle of the day, because it doesn't even enter the minds of people to look and see.

The idea is that the first four lines of every stanza rhymes, and the last line breaks up the rhyming scheme totally. This ruins the flow of the poem, and therefore doesn't allow the reader to fall asleep in the lull of the tune, and is intended to make a little jab at the reader...it's as if the poem is saying "ha, you didn't have the time to look, did you? Of course.." in a sarcastic, dissaproving sort of way. Which should make you feel guilty.

If you found yourself saying, "actually, I did that" then that's the surest sign that you feel you could have "done that" so many more times than you did, but just didn't make the time...

I'm a big fan of the hat.
I happen to like hats.
You know the type.

The sort which people in late 1800s England used to wear, along with a raincoat and cane.

I have one of those hats. It's a shame it isn't socially acceptable to carry a cane anymore - I will have to make do with a long umbrella, which shan't just be used for protection from the rain. Oh no. It shall be used to trip up young children, or poke people on the London transport network. If spotted when poking someone, the best idea would probably be to proceed as if nothing has happened. Then when the people are content that you're a weirdo, poke them again, about 2 minutes later, regardless of if they're looking at you or not. Again, proceed as if there's nothing wrong with poking a fellow passenger. This will reinforce their belief you're a weirdo, and they won't say a word to you, else they'll get up and move somewhere else: a nice little trick for the rush hour. Not that I do such things, of course...

Seeing as I am now living in an area of the world where it does not rain for 6 months of the year, I don't think my umbrella-poking-schemes will come to fruition this year. Besdies. There's no London underground in the Middle East.

The advantages of the hat

They're pretty obvious, but I've decided there may be a few people out there unaware of the advantages:

1) You don't need to wash your hair.
2) You don't need to brush your hair.
3) You don't need hair.

Simple! Three important and extremely convincing reasons why everyone should go out and buy a hat right now.

Of course, the only disadvantage of wearing a hat is that it blows off in the wind. Do not worry, however. I have an invention which stops this. A hat-stopper-blower-offer, if you will. A plane ticket to a windless area of the world. What could be simpler?

Oh, yes. Arty, I forgot totally about dispensing the said link on this blog. I got so caught up in the moment of having a new blog at all, that I forgot to post it. How silly of me.

Shan, great stuff, Calvin and Hobbes, and I'm pleased I have a fellow Calvin and Hobbes fan here on blogspirit. Of course, Calvin refers to the guy who believes in predestination, hence the Christian Calvinist groups. Hobbes, obviously, is a Greek philosopher. And that's enough useless information for today. Or, as Calvin would say:

It's not that I'm stupid. I just have a command of thoroughly useless information.

Arty, don't worry, I didn't forget to post the link. I just decided it would be fun to make you think I did, for all 2 seconds. Here it is: http://politicalreligion.blogspirit.com. 

And with that, my dears, I would like to end with a quote from Ecclesiastes:

I was recently introduced to Calvin and Hobbes - what is perhaps the most popular cartoon since Snoopy. In America, at least. Featuring in American newspapers, it ended it's run in the year 1995. 10 years later, in the year 2005, I got hold of it (ok, so, it took me some time to catch on. All the best things in life takes time).

I would recommend the feature books to anyone. Go. Library. Get. Now. Hysterically funny - and what more does a cartoon need?

Back in reality, I have launched a new blog, dedicated to politics, religion, and any other issue which I decide needs to be ranted on, such as the great truths of Colgate Original Toothpaste, or the liklihood of the whereabouts of faries being in people's back gardens (though looking at some people's back gardens, any fairy living there would certainly need a tetnus shot). This doesn't mean I shall abandon this blog. No. No sir. Though I fear this is what shall happen shortly, when I finsh my holiday in England, and head back to the middle east.

To summarise, this was a completely useless entry. Oh. One more thing. I have some more poems, which are here:

February Toil

In the winter nights gone by,
I lay upon the whitened ground,
To observe the blackened sky,
All voices quiet, there's not a sound.
I lie entrenched upon the earth,
Allow yonder snow upon me fall,
Recall once more memories past,
Written up in stars so small,
Upon a sea so very vast;
Then write our moments up there too,
To then recall in later days,
All the things we've done,
And marvel at the misty haze,
All the time the moon's ablaze.
---------------------

My favourite topic appears to be love. Or lack of it. This, therefore, makes a change, does it not?

On the surface, yes. This poem appears to be about the author (me) lying on a street looking at the stars, and letting the snow fall on him, whilst he "recalls memories past." The title "February toil" is ironic therefore inasmuch as it doesn't befit the actions of the dude in the poem. What sort of toil is lazing about? Exactly.

If one looks a bit further, however...
There is a secret message hidden in the poem (I do so love hiding messages in poems. It makes for more of a challenge. The quality of the content of the poem is sometimes sacrificed, however) which can be discovered by taking the first letter of the first line, second of the second line, etc. all the way up until the words "Then write our moments up there too." One guess as to what the message reads.

The last 4 lines also contain a hidden message, but follow completely different rules to the above, rules which I shall not divulge now, or ever. The message in this part of the poem is the name of the person to whom this is addressed.

Cat, stop speculating. You don't know her.

The reason why I chose a disrelated topic to the hidden message is because the girl in question resides within a household which values literature, and would request to read anything I gave to her. Obviously, it wouldn't do to hand a mother of about 40 years of age a love poem for her daughter now, would it? No sir. No sir, not at all. Hence, no one would ever guess at the true meaning of the poem, unless they previously knew what it would contain. Clever brain things worked all this out in my very own brain.
----------------------

A single day,
A single hour,
A single minute in which to say,
How much you've meant to me each and everyday.

Oh, to gaze upon your pretty grace,
To take the image of your face,
To etch forever in my heart,
And recall from their it's every part.

Oh, to sit with you once more,
Perhaps to gaze across a shore,
And when the day is done,
We'll watch the setting of the sun.

And enveloped in cloaks of dark,
We'll sit and watch the mark,
Which through the sky shines bright,
With an everlastingly pure light.

Before we'd know it the night is done,
And though from us it's forever gone,
It will live forever on,
And be my dearest memory.

But sadly it could never be,
For there's another one for she,
But oh, how much I woulg give,
If only I were he.
-----

A slightly different version of the above poem is posted here.
This poem is, as you've guessed, in keeping with my tradition of writing about impossible relationships. As it happens, it's about the same girl in the first poem, above. No messages, no nothings, such the surface.

I don't think it's possible for me to ever be with this particular girl. I have a knack of liking those I can never be with. Peculiar. It's not as if I go about looking for people to develop a major crush on, then realise the possibility of ever getting together is about as big as George Bush converting to Islam. Which is not very big at all. Meh. Still, it could be worse. We could live 3,000 miles apart...

Oh. No. It couldn't be worse: we already do.

For the fact of the matter is, my children, though I live here, I'm here on holiday. Make sense? No? Ahh. But then, which part of my writings does make sense? To quote the brilliant Calvin and Hobbes, the purpose of writing is to inflate weak ideas, obscure pure reasoning, and inhibit clarity. I see I live up to that perfectly.

But what have I been doing all this time, aside from learning? Oh, don't worry, I won't bore you all with that. I will, however, impart a little of the knowledge I gleaned from the middle east:

1) Be friendly to everyone, and greet all with a smile. This wise dictum was uttered thousands of years ago, and I have to say, it is very wise indeed. As the Germanic saying goes: "Greet every fool you meet in the street, for one day, he may be your boss..." Get what I'm saying?

2) Patience.
There was little to do in the sleepy town where I spent much of my time just before starting college. There's also little to do in the college itself, apart from eating, sleeping, learning or working out. Needless to say, i've spent a lot of time eating and working out, and a lot less sleeping and learning. However. Doing nothing for hours on end has taught me how patient it is possible to be. Not that I was impatient before hand...

3) Some other wise stuff I have temporarily forgotten (I see my time has been well spent..learning, only to forget again. Ah well. Life is a circle: Ignorance to wisdom, forgetting that wisdom and right back to ignorance, until it is learnt yet again.
------------

The land

The land of Israel can be said to have many geographical characteristics in it's borders, from the mountains in the north (skiing holidays may be taken there) to the hills in the middle of the country, to the desert plains in the south. Beautiful sandy beaches on it's west coast, and lakes and rivers along it's east. It doesn't rain in the entire land from April to November, but it may snow in some areas (like Jerusalem, situated in south central Israel - more central than south).
As for the architecture: It is a place where the very new is literally built next to the ancient. The ancient is so abundant there, that things which are thousands of years old are demolished to make space for the new buildings. Call me mad, but I do have some vague objections to tearing down a 2,000 year old wall. But people have to live somewhere, and new towns spring up all over the place.

The college

I have found being English gives me a lot of slack. The words "yeah, well, I'm English" can achieve almost anything. That's right. Almost anythibng at all! Take the following, for example:

American: Ha! You put milk in your tea!
Me: Yeah, well, I'm English.

American: Ha! You're playing soccer in your boxers!
Me: Yeah, well, I'm English.

American: Eurgh! You're stuffing food up your left-nostril!
Me: Yeah, well. I'm English.

The content reply to all the above: "Oh, it's ok, it's an English thing."

As to the actual college, I am extremely unhappy with the level of learning there. The level of learning is about 3 inches short of the same leve of learning as "sludge at the bottom of a pond" and is therefore a complete waste of time. For this reason, I refuse to participate in group discussion on the basis that I can accomplish much more without a group holding me back. This was generally agreed to, and I am allowed to do whatever it is I do, which even I am unsure of. I believe it has a lot to do with cake, soap, and a bottle of rum.
Oh. One of the lecturers is a complete genius, and ever so eccentric. The tutors seem to think I posses no intelligence of my own, and the standard response to anything I ask is "did your lecturer tell you that? Is that in your notes? Who told you that? Good question, I don't know/don't have time to explain/it's complicated."

The People - Family et. Al.

In order to get the flavour of the country, allow me to relate some of the following conversations:

Me: How do I get to the shopping centre from here?
Random lady: You cross this big road here.
*I proceed to cross the road*
Random lady: And what do you think you're doing, young man?!
Me: Err...
Random lady: Go cross at the zebra crossing this instant!
(The crossing happened to be a good minutes walk away, and she watched me all the way there, over the road, and into the shopping complex on the other side. Sheesh.)

Such is the land. Everyone is extended mothers.

Person 1: So, you're from England! I heard you're a headboy
Me: General murmurings of "yes." At this point I was making mental notes to lynch whoever let this bit of information slip into American hands.
Person 1: I didn't think they had those there. That's so cool!
Me: more mumbles.
Person 1: It's like you've walked right out of Harry Potter!
Me: *yet more mumbles*
Person 1: You must admit, the money is a bit difficult to use, right?
Me: Err...
Person 1: Don't you get confused with the Galleons, Sickles and Knuts?

This dude was actually American. Silly Americans.

Family here is fun. I've spent a lot of time with them. In my attempts to avoid being "that strange English relation who comes here sometimes" I found it imperative to do something. What that something was, I had no clue. But when something need be done, I'm bound to analyse the situation, identify the problem, then discard all data and bang into walls. Thankfully all worked out well, and I was less of myself than usual. As you all know, it can be very awkwad meeting family, let alone family you've never met in your entire life. Age order, youngest up.

Baby cousin: This critter used to run away from me crying. Yes, crying. Incredible. Obviously, something had to be done. As it happened, this little one happened to think banging into walls pretty funny, so I was safe there.

cousin 1: Female. 5 years of age. Very huggable. When once I was ignored and cast off as "one of those adults," I was re-dubbed "one of those fun adults." Yay!

Cousin 2:male. 8. Little monkey.

Cousin 3: Female. 11. Brilliant cook. Not much dialogue passed between us. Keep in mind, all children had been told to keep away from me, and under no circumstances speak to me, except the youngest cuz 1, 2 and baby cuz. I am, as you can see, a negative influence. Meh heh heh heh. However. This little one did a lot to make my stay more comfortable.

Cousin 4: 14. Female. Clever. Good cook too. Interesting to talk to.

Cousin 5: 15. Female. Insanely clever to the point of intimidation. Insanely industrious to the point of intimidation. "Cool" personality. Laid back. Can laugh at jokes. A rebel. Extremely attractive, mental maturity reached to at least 23 years of age.

Me: Would you like to play a game of chess?
Cousin 5: Ok.
Me: I don't know any girls who are interested in this game. Why do you like it?
Cousin 5: : It makes me clever. I like things which enable me to increase my knowledge.
Me: *taken aback, general look of intimidation* (on the inside, obviously. It would not do to let a 15 year old girl know I'm intimidated by her. Ha. At least I can admit it. As to all those who are NOT intimidated by this individual - you're either really, really smart, or really really stupid. Take your pick. But what's there to not be intimidated by? She actively makes herself smarter. Something I intend to learn from.)

Cousin 5: I don't feel fulfilled unless i'm doing something. Otherwise time is just wasted.
Me: That's a pretty exhausting philosophy... (Considering my philosophy is: "if it doesn't need to be done, don't do it" where "doesn't need to be done" is defined as "0.03 seconds left until deadline completion," I'm not exactly overworking myself. I plan to copy this philosophy too, and have since signed up as a volunteer to clean up after lunch and dinner on Saturdays in the college.)

Cousin 5: You're smart.
Me: *Considering the high-esteem I hold her wisdomous brain in, I was buzzing with that. However, it was followed up with:
Cousin 5: I hate smart people.

Dang.

Out of everyone I have met, this person is the most unpredictable in her speech, and is one of the few people I feel intimidated by. The other 2 are: my old headmaster, and one of my teachers from that same school.

She's extremely outspoken about her cleverness, and I was a little shocked at this. The above took place when I attempted to out-do her cleverness, specifically for the reason that I perceived her to think a little too much of her own knowledge. Me? I'm almost 19, and I grew up thinking I was average. Until I was almost 17. Someone actually had to take me to the side, and inform me that, apparantly, I am not average. That someone was a complete stranger whose face - you guessed - I shall never forget. I still think of myself as average, and at times below average. She continues to grow up thinking she is elite - which she is. But. Modesty never hurt Moses now, did it?

Due to my general "intimidatedness" (where are past tense, first person, singular adjectives when you need them? Not invented, that's where) when in the presence of this one, I have decided to become more like her. Yes, yes. You heard correctly.

I intend to become more like a 15 year old American girl.

I am alive. I am not being held hostage anywhere. I am here of my own free will. I am treated very well. I like being here. I am not being beaten. I am well.