Monday, 16 April 2012

The crashing down of hollow years...

It's not often I tend to write these days, be it a short story chapter, a poem, or even a simple blog. It's a mixture of not having the motivation, not having the time and not having any ideas. It also doesn't help that I procrastinate a lot. In fact the only reason I'm typing this is because I have no internet connection. Aside from that, I might as well give an update as to what's been going on in my 'oh-so-busy' life. This could take a while, given how long it is since I last blogged. You may also notice a slight lack of the usual humour I try to bring to these things. It'll all become clear in the coming paragraphs. I'm going to have people remain anonymous because those who know who I'm talking about are the only ones who need to.

First off, I had a relationship, which initially was slow to get off the ground, thanks to doubts from both of us, but then it begun to click. We had a few good months together, and I was really happy, and I did love her. But for some reason, something just wouldn't stick in my head. Something that was preventing me from fully committing to her. I still don't know what that is, but it was the reason for the downfall of the relationship. I had wanted a relationship for so long, and when one came along, something inside was preventing me from taking hold of it and keeping it. So then, as it came to be, the relationship ended, and I felt hollow once more. This hollow feeling is something that's been with me for years. I've been searching for the one to make the feeling go away, and, although she tried, and was very loving and did nothing wrong whatsoever, I didn't feel like she was the right person for me. I took the opinion that I would have to end it sooner rather than later, to prevent pain tenfold further down the line.

So I came out of that, dazed, confused, numb for a little while, and for a little while, all the supportive words from my friends that usually stay with me and help me, felt completely void and pointless. I realised I couldn't stay like this, and quickly set to the task of sorting my head out. Then their words had meaning again, and I was beginning to feel like myself a little more. It was then, that another person somewhat randomly appeared on my radar. Well, she appeared on my Facebook chat, but you get the picture. She'd recently split with her boyfriend as well, and I guess we helped each other through what we were both dealing with a little bit. She gave me a bit of hope again, and I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Now whether or not she was right for me was a judgement call that I wasn't yet able to make, but I pushed ahead regardless. In retrospect it could have been the forward nature of my approach that resulted in the downfall of this one, but it wasn't helped by the fact that she was quite possibly the busiest human being on the planet, and managing to see her at all was a feat in itself. So, after plenty of huffing and puffing, that potential relationship soon fell by the wayside.
And so the hollowness returned once again. I was a bit dejected after this one, I felt very down, and felt it was verging on depression. Somehow I'd endeavoured to punish myself with the end of one relationship and the frustrating non-start of another within months of each other. I was pretty much broken. My friends, however, saw this, and encouraged me to get back on my feet, and to not give up. I felt beaten, bruised, scarred, but something in my friends words and actions made me want to get back up on my feet and get ready for the next round. However, completely unbeknownst to me at the time, an old mental foe was creeping up on me, one which I thought I'd banished forever. It turns out I was wrong, much to my anger and frustration.

This foe, or rather, these feelings, were for someone who I hold very dearly in my heart as a close friend, but for some reason or other, my feelings always culminate in wanting to take the friendship much further with her. Normally if you're rejected you give up and move on, but something in my mind, some kind of sense of wanting to be attached, made me refuse to give up on a relationship with her, and this added to my anger. I was so angry and disappointed with myself that something I'd worked so hard to banish had come back so easily and so readily. This time though, it came with added sub-plots and twists. She had a boyfriend, but this boyfriend really didn't appreciate what he had. This frustrated me greatly. I knew I could offer her better than what he could, namely love and appreciation, but there was literally nothing I could do. I initially didn't give that a whole lot of thought, but one night I received a message from her, albeit under the influence of alcohol, in which she told me she'd made the wrong decision in picking him over me. Naturally, things start to trigger, rekindling an old fire in my mind, and I soon descended into that which I'd forced so far away from me for so long.

I tried again to suppress it, given that we were a part of the same group of friends, and were due to all go out socially again. I had success on the first occasion, managing to control it, and enjoy myself in her and my friends company equally. But the next time was much more difficult. It didn't help that my ex was there, but in the end that wasn't to be a decisive factor to my leaving early. I got so wound up by some guy flirting with her that I had to leave. She wanted me to stay there and protect her from incoming male attention, but I failed her. Mainly because I wanted to be the one giving her male attention before any other guys. I failed her and I left under a black cloud, my mind turning things over and over until I was no better off than a year ago. I'd landed right back at square one with her. I went home and felt truly awful.

Then something kind of snapped me out of it. And ironically it was the one thing I thought would probably make the feelings I had stronger. Well, in a way, it kind of did, but something more important kicked in and overrode those feelings somewhat. The unique feeling of wanting to be there for a friend. She messaged me something private, which, instead of making me push forward what I felt I wanted, which I admit would have been massively insensitive, I had an overwhelming urge to just be there for her, and try to help her through a bad situation of her own. Suddenly all of my feelings were sidelined in favour of being the friend she needed me to be.
I can't say that those feelings are gone, who knows what I'm going to have to do to get rid of them, but for once in my life, I felt proud of myself for being able to put our friendship before anything else. There'll probably always be other guys that I'll feel aren't good enough for her, and who knows, if I ever do get the chance myself, then I won't need to hide anymore, but one thing is absolutely for certain, and that is that I'll drop absolutely everything for my friends, even my own feelings.

Sunday, 12 June 2011

A Permanent Friendship

It's been a long time since I wrote a blog that wasn't either depressing, angry, or just plain emotional. It's probably because there's been a hell of a lot going on with me over the past few months. I'm not going to go into detail with it all, because there's things in there I don't want to broadcast to the world, some of them for very specific reasons. I need not say more about this, those who need to know about it all, know about it all, and those who don't, won't ever. I have only a few positives that I can take from it all, but those positives are very significant to me. One of which is perhaps the most important thing in a lot of peoples lives, and that's the outwardly simple concept of a best friend. A while ago I had one, and she would go out of her way to make sure I was feeling okay, opening up her heart to let mine in. A friendship like hers is something special, but something I've lost as time has gone on and I've drifted away a bit. I didn't want to drift away, but a mixture of distance, lack of time, and other mitigating factors meant we lost touch for a long time.

Something which I regret significantly, and it's also something we've recently worked on trying to recover. To an extent it's worked, and some of our initial friendship has re-awoken, but still, time and distance make things difficult. In the meantime, as I've drifted around, meeting new people, keeping up with them this time, I've made new friends, been emotionally drawn to a few, which in it's own right, has been damaging, both in the sense that they've destroyed a friendship, and in that they've left me emotionally scarred. It's in one of these situations that my best friend came to the fore. Through my own stupidity, although hindsight is a glorious concept, I opted to pursue someone who was unattainable, not through standards, through lack of willing. A mistake for which I'm still paying now, rather than opting to try and win over my friend. In my life I don't think I've ever made a worse decision. I've regretted it ever since. But, through this regret, has grown a respect, a friendship, something I never thought I'd find again after all these years.

A best friend. Someone I love unconditionally without the relationship. Of course, if she ever called upon me to take the extra steps, to have the relationship, I would drop everything and answer her call. The most important thing for me, possibly in my life, is her happiness, however that comes about. Her boyfriend is a great person, who does just that, and in that, I never want it to end. I hope more than anything that she can be ultimately happy with him, and if that's not possible, then she will know that she has a friend to catch her if she were to fall. As her friend I'll never leave her side, and as I feel that she is my best friend, she will know that I'll never drift, never not have time for her, and be there for her, whatever time of the day or night. If she called me at 3 am and wanted to meet meet in the pouring rain because she couldn't sleep, I'd be there.

I've struggled with a lot of things lately, but I know this for certain, I never want her to leave my life.

Thursday, 17 February 2011

L3SI3M - My Plan For World Domination! (Well.. Me Domination...)

Through the ashes of the past, the future appears. Or something. Whatever. Shut up! This is my blog! If you don't like it, go eat a sponge!

Ahem.. anyway. I have a plan. Not a "I have a dream" kinda situation, although I do have plenty of dreams, strange strange dreams, many of which should probably prompt therapy, or a "Baldrick, I've got a cunning plan" plan, which would involve me putting pencils up my nose or something, but a plan that involves me actually getting up off my arse and doing something worthwhile for once. I'm going to do it in stages. So. As the rules dictate, I'll start with number one.
Number one. (See? Told ya I would!)

I have set myself the unenviable task of losing 3 stone in 3 months. "Why 3 months?!" I hear no-one ask. Well, I'll tell you! Alright? Impatient git! I've put my name down to play a football match with my colleagues. But not just any football match! This match is being held at Prenton Park, the home of the mighty Tranmere Rovers! My goal for this part of the challenge is to declare myself fit enough to go to the match. Depending on the goalkeeper situation (we only need two for the match, but we have three in our usual 5-a-side guise of four teams, and all three have declared an interest). So anyway, the official start date I've set is actually tonight, and I went the gym for a good ol' session! I'll need all the support I can get with this one. I've also agreed to go jogging with my best friend. Well, I say jogging, it'll be jog for a bit, then ambulance the rest of the way. I have a lot of work to do.

So that's the first 3 months loosely planned out, and I think I heard someone cry out "but what about after then??". What do you mean "nobody shouted that"? Get out of my blog, you big poo!
I thought to myself "I need another goal to aim for" inside my head. Because that's where I do most of my thoughts. And nothing else sprung to mind as per an idea for a goal. My ideas jump around on pogo sticks in my mind. Don't know why, but I'm used to it now. So I had an idea of opening it up to suggestions from those people that aren't inside my head. (everyone else basically, I'm just over-describing to fill up the space really).

So I guess the purpose of this entire blog is to ask for suggestions for my post L3SI3M ventures. Ooh, also I think I just came up with the blog title! I'm fully aware that it looks a bit like the word 'lesbianism' but I can live with that if I achieve my goals in the time I've set myself.
So, Number Two, rhymes with poo. Sorry. But it does.

Suggest to me a sensible, achievable goal that I can go for after the match at Tranmere. And before anyone says "Next years match at Tranmere" I'm talking a target within the six months after that. FYI I'm planning my holiday with my friends for June so that must be taken into account.

So hop to it citizen!

Monday, 27 September 2010

Innocence Faded... The Mirror Falls Behind You...

Well, I could do this two ways. Blurt it out as blunt as it can be written, or go all cryptic, so as to confuse all but myself. We'll see as I go along. Fuck it. Blunt, with a hint of cryptic. I'll name no names, apart from my own, obviously, because I'm writing it and it's me I'm talking about. So it turns out opinion of me is that of a tame, friendly guy who's a great friend, but not good enough for a relationship. Apparently it's because I'm not predatory enough. I approach the whole thing with an air of "be my friend" as opposed to "be mine". Despite others trying to persuade me to be more.. shall we say.. sharp, when it comes to affairs of the heart. Well correct me if I'm wrong, but is it so bad to want to get to know someone before entering into a relationship with them? What's bad about that? Or is it because of the other argument that was put to me, that women seem to edge towards bad boys, idiots and bastards, whilst making the nice guy into her friend. Well that just stinks of unfairness. Not even giving the guy a chance, because he's NOT a twat? Where is the logic? It makes no sense to me.

While all this goes on in my head, I still seem to manage to make friends, and keep them. Even after not seeing some of them in months. I treasure all of my friends, regardless of how I came to meet them and subsequently become their friend, in some cases, even best friend. I have no problem with being dumped into the friend zone, if that is the outcome of it. My friends are amazing, and I wouldn't change them for the world. Trust is a big thing too. Apparently I'm considered trustworthy. I could point to a few examples that would demonstrate this, but they are private. But if I'm gaining peoples trust, just by being myself, how can I not gain the the actual love of anybody? Again the logic of it escapes me. I can be trusted, but clearly not enough to hold a relationship and keep it alive. I guess there's different levels of it. The level of trust I seem to get stuck at is the "good/close friend" level. That is a very frustrating level, despite it's obvious and important responsibilities, which, for my true friends, I am only too happy to shoulder the burden of.

But I'm getting tired of making friends off the back of trying to find a relationship. It's too much for me to bear at the moment. All it takes is one person to say yes to me. One person. Aren't there like six billion people in the world or something? And not one. Not a single one. Oh, but of course, I wouldn't be considered anyway, because I'm too nice. I'm too friendly. I'm too fucking friendly. It's hardly worth it for the pain and stress it causes to even try, but I do try, and despite my near 100% failure rate, I keep trying. There has to be someone out there who I can prove my worth to. Someone I can treat like a princess, like she's the only woman in the world. What is so wrong with that? They say that there's someone for everyone in this world. Knowing my luck she's halfway around the world.

Wednesday, 1 September 2010

Seeing shadows in the light of the day...

Ok. This is an attempt to get my feelings out on the screen so I can make at least a bit of a start at getting my head around them. I don't care who reads it or if there are any comments, this isn't for that.

I can't explain it, but I've been feeling down a hell of a lot lately. Don't get me wrong, I've had good times with friends, family and other assorted people, but for some reason I just can't fight the feeling of being down. I'm surrounded by all the people I love, and yet I've never felt this way, despite all their good will and intent. I guess it's something to do with the fact that I'm lonely. I've been alone for a very long time. Not as in family or friends, they've always been a big and important part of my life, but they can't give me affection on a different level, can they? I feel like I'm clutching at straws every time I talk to a girl, getting the usual bullshit from them, and it IS bullshit, whatever any of you say, you know, lines like "oh you'll find someone soon" or "you'll make someone really happy" or something like that. They're all just redundant deflections to get me off the subject.

I'm fed up with those lines, whether they're trying to make me feel better or they're just trying to divert me away from the subject. Yeah, alright, I might make someone happy, and don't get me wrong, I would do everything in my power, but WHERE THE FUCK IS THIS "SOMEONE" EVERYONE ALWAYS FOBS OFF ON ME??? It's really pissing me off now. There was one I thought it could have been, but it seems not. I guess all I'm good for is being the "friend". I'm where I usually end up, in the fucking rejected pile.

How lovely it is to be considered as just the friend, and assumed incapable of providing a proper relationship for anyone. Always the fucking bridesmaid eh? I'm getting sick to the back teeth of lame excuses and tired cliches.

I give the fuck up.

Friday, 27 August 2010


What a week it's been. I think I've explored every emotion I knew I had, ranging from true happiness to near depression. I don't know if it's a medical thing, but let me document the things that have happened, and maybe it'll be a little bit clearer.

The weekend started with much promise, and in all innocence, I had no idea of the night that was to unfold. I went the gym in the morning, meeting with a colleague who was 45 minutes late, so I was annoyed at him for that, but at the same time pleased with myself at the workout I'd done whilst at the gym. Upon leaving the gym, I went and sat at my favourite spot on the waterfront, and collected a few thoughts in my mind there. Then I headed home for a post gym bath, and got into some fresh clean clothes. I go online, and no sooner than I log onto facebook, I get a text inviting me to a party. Since I had no plans, I decided to go along, "borrowing" some of my sisters beer. The party ended up consisting of five people, all of whom I'm really good friends with, so that wasn't an issue.

Then came that immortal time. The "Alcohol Critical Level" time. There was none left, so after much deliberation, a party of three departed to search for an open off license at 3am. Good plan in theory.. except the party was on a really rough estate, and the party of three consisted of a goth, a punk and a metalhead. Prime targets for scallies. Sophie Lancaster foundation? What Sophie Lancaster foundation? While the three were out, me and my remaining friend ended up pelting each other with strange foreign sweets, which let me tell you now, hurt like hell if they hit you in the right place! The three returned, two in tears, one shaken up. We decided it was time to leave. Two of my friends stayed as one lived there, and the other didn't want to leave her alone. The new three, which now included me, got a taxi to a different house, one that we were to stay for the next two days in. I was too tired to feel much of anything at this point, as were my friends, but that didn't stop us from traipsing around Toxteth at 4am gathering DVDs and changes of clothes from my friends houses. We also met a kitten.

We eventually got back to the house we were staying at, and settled ourselves down for the night. Eventually, after saying that we were going to do just that for about half an hour before any of us could muster the strength to move. The next day, we went on another adventure, this time to the shop, to buy lots of fun stuff. Like cake mix. And Bacon. We never got the bacon. Cue a messy afternoon cooking, and watching DVDs. And drinking really crap coffee, that somehow, by some crazy fluke, my friend managed to make taste amazing. More DVDs followed, and my strange numbness had kicked in. I could feel nothing, but I knew I was comfortable in this situation with my two friends. I stayed another night, going straight to work after borrowing a Joy Division tshirt and getting my own sweater thrown in a washing machine. It had a fair bit of cake mix on it. So anyway. I get home from work that afternoon, and my brain starts to kick in normally again. Reigniting feelings I'd buried a while back, for one of my friends. Which got me into trouble with her, and made her not want to talk to me. Cue the near depression. I couldn't concentrate. I was stressed also as I had my annual performance review in work, and had no evidence of anything good to take in to stop my manager giving me a bollocking.

All of this lead to today. Where I did that whole spectrum in reverse, in one day. I started off in the worst mood, I didn't want to be in work, and nothing I was doing would go right. Then it started to pick up when my task got changed to an easier one. Then, I went to the pub and had a pint of Guinness. Then I was happy. I got back into work, and my team had done a birthday collection for me, and it made me both shocked that any of them had money at this stage of the month, and really happy to work with them all. Then I got home to a Scooby Doo tshirt, some awesome comfortable shorts, and special fried rice from the chippy. Needless to say, this week is ending on a high.

Sunday, 25 July 2010

Well.. I forgot I had this...

Yeah.. It's been a while since I posted here, so I figured I might as well update with a less fictional blog than the previous ones.

Still just the me, with nobody on my arm to show for my efforts, but still, all this rejection isn't gonna bring me down anymore. I think it's about time I let prospective partners come to me, rather than looking wistfully into the distance at a future that probably won't be. It's time for me to just go about my daily business and bump into someone, as opposed to looking around, and giving people plenty of chance to avoid me.

Anyway, enough of all that depressing crap. I've decided to take on possibly the biggest poetry project of my life. I'm planning to write one hundred poems to make up a story. The only thing is I have no story yet. Not a single idea has flown into my head since I was on holiday. That annoys me somewhat. Maybe I need a holiday. Yeah, that's it, I need a holiday to get the ideas back.

I want to pay a little homage to my friends. They've stood by me throughout the times I've been a lovestruck oaf, and I've been next to unbearable with the moping and the 'oh woe is me' attitude I've found myself adopting lately. They've all helped me to come to terms with this, and are, in their own individual ways, helping me get out of that way of thinking, step forward Mel, Lorna and Charlene. I love you all, you mean so much to me, thanks so much to all of you.

On that note, I'll stop rambling. Night all.

Tuesday, 22 September 2009

The Heroic Post Team

It started like any other day. Only it was different. I walked through the door into the office and had to climb over post bags. That wasn’t standard practice. Usually I could sidestep the responsib-uhh... I mean I could avoid falling over the bags and get to my desk without incident. Five minutes it took me to get from door to desk, avoiding bags and people swinging bags over their shoulders somewhat recklessly. There had been a huge backlog, because the public had been informed of the cost of an application going up and therefore hastened to get theirs in before the deadline. This is where the Post Team becomes an incredible machine capable of churning out more than three million applications a minute.

Approaching my desk, I realised I had the arduous task of walking the entire length of the office to get to my locker. Some bright spark in January had decided that it was wise to give someone a locker absolutely nowhere near where his workstation was. Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to let this bother me, as I had much more important things to deal with. Breakfast, well, the latest incarnation of a couple of burnt sausages and some soggy toast, were my priority at this point. I devoured this with an air of resignation, as I knew that if breakfast started bad, day started bad. And boy did the breakfast disappoint.

I had a job to do. Or rather, the team had a job to do, together. This backlog wasn’t going to clear itself, so I quickly got to work hauling a bag of post onto my desk. I let it fall onto the desk with a satisfying thud, made all the more satisfying by the sound of my cup and some other stuff making clangy noises as they hit. I am easily pleased. Content with the racket I was making, I made progress into the work I had to do, and soon I, and the rest of the team were in full flow. Slowly but steadily, the pile of bags went down, and our morale went up. Temporarily. This was happening day by day on the post team, an inhuman amount of bags of post, eventually conquered by a mammoth team effort, only to have to start again the next day. Luckily, we had our trusty public alcohol providing facility around the corner, and it really aided us through the days of the backlog. We’ll call it ‘The Great Bagstorm’ as it was literally hundreds of bags a week.

I take immense satisfaction from working as a part of this team, not only because of the way we work, but the way we get on with each other. The banter and laughter on the team is immense, and at the moment I wouldn’t change it for anything. For instance, today, one of my colleagues (who won’t be named because it’s somewhat embarrassing) burped and farted at the same time, resulting in the entire team falling about in fits of giggles. Me especially, as the person who did it was standing not too far away from me. This team now means a lot to me, through the adversity of ‘The Great Bagstorm’ I learned the true meaning of teamwork. It’s not something that can be taught, as much as any trainer or tutor will try to drum into their students, it’s about getting on with people, finding a particular chemistry between them and using each others strengths and weaknesses to ultimately pursue the teams goals.

Friday, 24 April 2009

World Of Whatnow?

Normally I don’t go in for all this killing animals for the chance of winning a pair of shorts from them, and normally I’d question the motives of a wolf if it had such a thing on its person... or animal... or whatever you say in that instance, but this is World of Warcraft, and wolves carry shorts, gloves, guns, swords, small pouches and occasionally broken shields। I dunno, maybe they’re preparing for war or something... A war that needs linen goods. And broken shields. Nevertheless, I run at them with my trusty worn shortsword and give several of them the beatdown. Aha! I just exploded! Must have gone up a level! Yes! Now I can hit slightly harder than I could ten seconds ago! So I run back to the guy who sent me on a ‘quest’ (if you can call it that... I’m sure he could have gotten some meat from the butchers or something) and give him the stupid meat, and he shoots me a look that was halfway between ‘what took you so damn long’ and ‘MEAT!!! I LIKE TASTY SAVOURY!!!’ Needless to say I took my prize and ran off rather quickly, in case he ran out of wolf meat and wanted my leg as a second course.

A while later, I’m walking through this forest, and this guy comes over and starts hitting me with a butter knife! I was like ‘Hey! What are you doing?’ and I hit him with my sword। It took his red bandana thing because it looked cool, but I couldn’t tie a knot in it to I threw it away। It landed on a nearby rabbit and made it look like a little rabbit superhero. I watched the little guy for half an hour before I realised I was supposed to be going to the inn to tell some guy that some stuff has happened. As it turned out, I ended up being the messenger between two lazy soldier guys who seemed to like picking on low-level warriors. I figured I’d leave revenge for a later date because I was too preoccupied in trying to get myself a slightly better sword by selling everything else I own to the point where I can’t actually go outdoors without getting arrested for being illegal.

So once I’d killed some more clothes wolves, I stood in the middle of Goldshire, as it’s called, and waited for an idea to pop into my head pertaining to what I was to do next। Then this guy came over, asking me if I wanted to join his guild... I was very dubious, as it reminded me of that time some old guy tried to coax me into his house with sweets. Luckily for me, I didn’t like liquorice. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so this guy comes over to me and offers me money to sign this bit of paper. I like money, so I signed it as quickly as my stubby warrior fingers would go, and held my hands out to receive the free money. I danced. It was a tasty moment. That gave me an idea for what to do next. I was tired of killing wolves and petty thieves, so I thought I’d go and kill some mining dudes that had stolen some stuff. I thought ‘it’s time to get my crime solving on!’ and headed south to the mine. I got there and there was this one dude with a big gold tooth. I forget his name. I killed him and stole his tooth. Crimefighting has its rewards!

The big city awaited। I walked down this seemingly endless road, until I got to the end. In about four minutes. The city was huge, with large, unnecessary statues of people who lost adorning the sides of the pathway. I ignored them and headed for the centre of town, where there were plenty of people to tell me what to do. I did their tasks one by one, taking every opportunity to stop and get a little bit drunk from the cheap reward wine I was given. Mmm... It was tasty, like vinegar is. I like vinegar. I stumbled upon this guy standing by a big open gap, with some kind of flying liony eagle thing, and he says “gimme some money and you can fly anywhere you want... well... that you’ve already been to...” I thought to myself how useless this was, but then I realised he’d actually given me the cue to get a wriggle on around the continent and find places to fly to. On the way to my first place with a flight connection, I saw some wolves attacking this little guy, and went over to help. Well... I say help, I mean distract the wolves enough to get them to run after me instead of the guy they were chasing. He was then killed by the strangely infamous fiend, the ‘Hogger’. This was a strange cross between a pig and a small man. I’m not even gonna ask what went on there... I’d rather not know. So I was left with several wolves on my trail, then I remembered something. My early days as a clothes wolf slayer had taught me that wolves aren’t the smartest, or most agile, so I climbed a tree and waited for them to go away. Three days I waited, and they’d finally given up to chase some other poor guy.

I arrived at the place that has the liony eagle thing terminal and set up my connection, then I went up to the big tower to see if there were any errands that needed to be done. This one guy said ‘yeah, go kill some stuff for me’ and this other guy said ‘do you want to see some puppies?’. I stayed away from that guy. I wanted to see the view from the top of the tower, and proceeded up the stairs to the top. I was standing right on the edge of the wall at the top, adjusting my camera angle to get a good view of the surroundings. And I fell off. Good job none of my bones or anything broke, that’d have been annoying...

Wednesday, 22 April 2009

The Birth Of A Legend

Chapter 1 - Birth of a self-proclaimed modern legendThis is the autobiography of a man called Horatio. Horatio John Smith to be precise.I am what you would call an enigma, a phenomenon if you will. I've climbed the heights, and swum the depths...So to speak. I'll start off at the beginning. Because that's usually where stories start.Not that I've made any of this up of course, I haven't, really! It's all true!(Well, except for a few 'embellishments' so to speak!).

I was born in the leafy city of Liverpool, and I was actually born in a local Chip Shop.My mother, Julie, was heavily pregnant and fancied a chip barm, so hauled her pregnant behind to the chippy for one,and that's where her waters broke. Of course. I've been told all this, the press were everywhere!The Liverpool Echo had a field day! 'Barm Kid' was the headline, and boy, I didn't live that one down!My early childhood wasn't the best either. There were always press people hanging around,hoping for a glimpse of 'Barm Kid'. Whenever my mum had to go to the Kwik Save to get some bread and beans,we were hounded by people wanting pictures of me. Things didn't improve a whole lot when I got to school.You'd think that the name Horatio would be more of an attention grabber than stories of my greasy birth, but no!I had to go through school with that hanging over my head! I got all the worst nicknames: Baby back ribs, Barm-boy,Chippy Horatio, Prawn cracker, the list goes on! All of this spurned me to let out my emotions in the form of music and football.

I decided to try to learn guitar when I first started secondary school, and that went well, I got into the school band,and I also got onto the football team, as a striker. I gained friends from these experiences.No longer was I hearing the names that had followed me through primary school. I was finally accepted.I wasn't too fussed on exams, I saw them as the conformist's application form, so I tried to do my very worst at them.Unfortunately I passed all my exams, with 6 B's and 2 C's.It was just after I left school when me and a few of the band members from school decided to get together and form our own sound.Unfortunately, Peter Enstw..uh... I forget the rest of his name, the other guitarist, went all emo.
He dyed his hair black and wanted us all to do the same. Tom Eff..uh.. I forget.., the bassist dyed his,as did Davey Inn, the drummer. But I refused to dye my ginger locks, which were an impressive 3 inches long,and they kicked me out of the band.I then started college, and met some new people, who weren't taken in by this whole 'emo' thing, and we formed our own band.We were called IDidASentence (I came up with that) and started to fuse our styles together.All this time I was practising my football. Stardom awaited. My mum had a phone call to say I had a trial.
But not just anywhere, Tranmere Rovers. One of the biggest clubs in the world (or so I was told).I went to their training ground and tried my best. There was another guy there, I forget his name, he was going for the same position as me, so I punched him in the mouth.I didn't sign for Tranmere.Anyway, back to the music.

Our sound was taking shape. It was a mixture of crazy guitar licks, deep, soulful bass,and crazy manic drumming. I was also the lead singer. Not that our songs had many words.Just lots of 'yeah!' and 'ooh!' involved. There was something missing though. We needed something. At home, I lived with my mum, Julie, and my dad, John. They'd decided on the name Horatio, to try to deflect attention from the chip shop birth. As admirable there efforts were, they failed miserably. I was the laughing stock of the town.Until that was, I became a teenager, and begun exacting egg-based revenge on those that had wronged me in my earlier years.Needless to say, the Police didn't take too kindly to my patented 'eggs cellotaped to bricks' idea,and I got arrested. My mum wan't too happy about that, I can tell you!My dad however, he was more interested in the egg-brick idea, and planned to introduce it to some of his work mates.Anyway, enough about my childhood, I have a lot of life to get through!STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER 2!