Well, this is the end of my not being at work.
As of tomorrow I start working and that's a very exciting thing.
I will have a place in Cambridge, but it's going to be ready next weekend so there's going to be a week of relying on the kindness of others before that. My place is small, it's cheap and I'll go into more detail when I'm there.
So I'm currently being very excited about work - lots of packing and outfit planning and travel planning and so on which is kinda fun.
As far as things that have happened goes; I have a tale of coldness and misery on a hillside. But ultimately there are lessons learnt and character growth.
I went hiking!
When someone says to me, "Doug, do you fancy going trekking?" after I ask them if they actually mean watching a lot of Star Trek, I envision a sort of leisurely extended pub crawl with camping in the middle and pleasant views in between pubs.
When someone asks me, "Do you fancy going trekking?" what they actually mean is serious hiking, with little to no pubbage and a lot of pain, cold winds and hail.
Unfortunately this is a difference I found out once we'd arrived and were too far up the side of a hill to get back to a pub.
The drama that ensued took place over Good Friday, with the plan being that it continue until Easter Sunday. These days we snowy. They were cold. They were some of the nastiest days weatherwise this year and we took full advantage of that by getting as high up as we could. Oh how dumb are we?
The first hour was nice, a new view and sunny weather lulled us into thinking that perhaps all the panicky weather folks were wrong. But then we actually reached the top. The hail and wind found us. We started to freeze. Noses started to run, leading to hours of sniffing, leading to sinus aches of a serious cold. That wasn't all! The differences in expectation were clear in the equipment and so after the first hours I discovered my old boots were now half a size to small for my feet and as such were doing their darnedest to peel off my toenails. This would of been a mild irritation on a three day pub to pub walk, but on a cross country hike it was hours of torture. Similarly, the bag I brought would have served me well walking betwixt pubs and removing it to drink and sit, but carrying it for hours over varying terrains was not something either of us were designed for.
We did make it to a pub, dragging ourselves off the hills long after sunset, but the sniffing was too painful for me to drink so this did very little to lift my spirits apart from being warm (which was wonderful, but not enough to balance out the suffering.)
Day Two should of consisted of a greater distance. This plan was very quickly rejected. Plan B took us quickly over the hills (now covered in snow). This plan was rejected. Finally plans that involved motorized vehicles began appearing, to more enthusiasm.
The best bit was when we got back in the car. This was warm and also involved sitting which was lovely. This was also before all the aches of overused muscles kicked in.
After that was very painful but I wouldn't want to bore you with moaning...
Lesson learnt:
I am not an outdoors, fit, energetic type of man. What a wonderful thing to learn about yourself. But at least I could comfort myself with chocolate.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Hooray for Doug
Do you have a victory song?
You know, when the hero finally succeeds, there's a song that blasts out and everything's ok?
I hadn't really thought about it, so it came as bit of a surpirse when I got some good news and this blasted out inside my head:
I guess if you know my tendencies towards the bizzare that odd choice isn't too big a surprise, but I thought I'd share it and see what you thought.
So what is this victory that someone who's been complaining about being unemployed with nothing to do for months, achieve?
Hmm...
That's right!
I am un-unemployed!
Or to say it without hurting the English language, I am employed!
I'm going to work for a law magazine in Cambridge!
Huzzah!
Law?
Law!
It's not science, (the subject of subjects that my communication skills have been groomed for,) but the position is writing news and features and tons of other different formats and there's a bunch of other tasks as well. All the variety will certainly keep me occupied and everyone seems nice there, so yay! Now all I have to do is get myself down to Cambridge. That's some leaving the house excitement to look forward to.
Excitement! Variety! The Law! Shocking Twists! Cambridge! (Hopefully with the shocking twists taking the pleasent forms, unless law is the shocking twist and then that's already accounted for?)
All this to come in the next few blogs, in the finally continuing adventures of me, Doug.
You know, when the hero finally succeeds, there's a song that blasts out and everything's ok?
I hadn't really thought about it, so it came as bit of a surpirse when I got some good news and this blasted out inside my head:
I guess if you know my tendencies towards the bizzare that odd choice isn't too big a surprise, but I thought I'd share it and see what you thought.
So what is this victory that someone who's been complaining about being unemployed with nothing to do for months, achieve?
Hmm...
That's right!
I am un-unemployed!
Or to say it without hurting the English language, I am employed!
I'm going to work for a law magazine in Cambridge!
Huzzah!
Law?
Law!
It's not science, (the subject of subjects that my communication skills have been groomed for,) but the position is writing news and features and tons of other different formats and there's a bunch of other tasks as well. All the variety will certainly keep me occupied and everyone seems nice there, so yay! Now all I have to do is get myself down to Cambridge. That's some leaving the house excitement to look forward to.
Excitement! Variety! The Law! Shocking Twists! Cambridge! (Hopefully with the shocking twists taking the pleasent forms, unless law is the shocking twist and then that's already accounted for?)
All this to come in the next few blogs, in the finally continuing adventures of me, Doug.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Weird Dreams 2
Yay! I've got an interview! It's really nice to have something to be heading towards, rather than the aimless existing that I've been doing lately.
So, yay me and yay them, for they are about to experience a interview that will pierce the heavens.
But the really important reason for this is my remebering the dream that came after my Torchwood dream. So without further adu, I present;
The "Traveling in a country where they speak Spainish" dream.
This lacks the pure lunacy of Torchwood, but ends well.
I start remembering while in a building; one of the ones that has appeared a few times in my dreams but not reality, I'm hiding out/probably resting for the night in the basement of this place, plastered uneven walls. It's dark, because it's night and we're underground.
It belongs to Salma Hayek and her younger sibling, (as much as you'd expect me to remember if the child was a boy or a girl, I'm afraid I don't, just that they were young), (also I'm only 90% sure it was Salma Hayek, as her voice was the thing I have the strongest memories of.) I chat with the kid for a while, in the way that impressive traveller types do, amusing them with stories and the like, before the kid goes to bed.
So I rest for the night in the basement, (sleeping within a dream while you're asleep? now thats some heavy duty sleeping) but in the morning some kind of terrible something happens in the B&Q type hardware store that they run in the ground level part of the building.
It's wrecked and Salma etc, are in really big trouble, (some kind of opressive land Baron - I think - who will be extrememly displeased at the state of affairs and also my presence.)
It's going to be ok though, because I'm sure, not only that we can get it fixed up before opening time, but also that it won't feel like hours of hard work because the fixing stuff up montage music, (that you get in the movies,) is about to kick in and time will whizz past when that happens.
Unfortunatly, before I can find out what montage music my unconcious feels is approprate for such a situation, I wake up.
Damn it, coz I just know that taking part in a musical montage would be so much fun. (I'm serious here, because it would actually be fantasic.)
As well as strange dreams and an upcoming interview, I've been cooking. Biscuits/Cookies/Smores depending on your defintion, but they are resting over night before getting properly baked. I mention this because they contain toffee, and the toffee required some Captain Doug cooking to be added.
I need small toffee chucks.
I have large toffee chucks.
The solutions available here are all pretty fun, but I statred with freezing the toffee. Once hard I dropped the bag out of an upstairs window, smashing it on the patio below. And then one more time to be sure.
Why can't all cooking work like that?
So, yay me and yay them, for they are about to experience a interview that will pierce the heavens.
But the really important reason for this is my remebering the dream that came after my Torchwood dream. So without further adu, I present;
The "Traveling in a country where they speak Spainish" dream.
This lacks the pure lunacy of Torchwood, but ends well.
I start remembering while in a building; one of the ones that has appeared a few times in my dreams but not reality, I'm hiding out/probably resting for the night in the basement of this place, plastered uneven walls. It's dark, because it's night and we're underground.
It belongs to Salma Hayek and her younger sibling, (as much as you'd expect me to remember if the child was a boy or a girl, I'm afraid I don't, just that they were young), (also I'm only 90% sure it was Salma Hayek, as her voice was the thing I have the strongest memories of.) I chat with the kid for a while, in the way that impressive traveller types do, amusing them with stories and the like, before the kid goes to bed.
So I rest for the night in the basement, (sleeping within a dream while you're asleep? now thats some heavy duty sleeping) but in the morning some kind of terrible something happens in the B&Q type hardware store that they run in the ground level part of the building.
It's wrecked and Salma etc, are in really big trouble, (some kind of opressive land Baron - I think - who will be extrememly displeased at the state of affairs and also my presence.)
It's going to be ok though, because I'm sure, not only that we can get it fixed up before opening time, but also that it won't feel like hours of hard work because the fixing stuff up montage music, (that you get in the movies,) is about to kick in and time will whizz past when that happens.
Unfortunatly, before I can find out what montage music my unconcious feels is approprate for such a situation, I wake up.
Damn it, coz I just know that taking part in a musical montage would be so much fun. (I'm serious here, because it would actually be fantasic.)
As well as strange dreams and an upcoming interview, I've been cooking. Biscuits/Cookies/Smores depending on your defintion, but they are resting over night before getting properly baked. I mention this because they contain toffee, and the toffee required some Captain Doug cooking to be added.
I need small toffee chucks.
I have large toffee chucks.
The solutions available here are all pretty fun, but I statred with freezing the toffee. Once hard I dropped the bag out of an upstairs window, smashing it on the patio below. And then one more time to be sure.
Why can't all cooking work like that?
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Weird Dreams
Still no job.
Starting to try to look at temping, but no work from there yet either.
But that's just me keeping you up to date on the hunt rather than whining (coz I'm no whiner).
But with no work and very few tasks or quests to do what can I possibly write about?
Well, just because my conscious mind is doing bugger all, doesn't mean my unconscious isn't busy. Busy with some really weird dreams. So busy in fact that I'm almost concerned. Those of you schooled in psychology, prepare for your skills to be tested. Everyone else strap in; it's going to get weird.
My Torchwood dream.
Yes, that's right. Once again, proof that I watch too much TV (no adverts or credits in this one though, so that's a positive step).
So me and a bunch of other people are driving round what is presumably Cardiff, presumably hunting for aliens. I say presumably, because none of this was made explicit in the dream itself, but we was clearly Torchwood, because we were dressed like them, had the car and also visited a warehouse. (Thankfully no gay innuendo, so maybe it was Torchwood lite?) Anyway, we kick the doors down and storm into this warehouse only to find it alien-less, but full of "simulation devices" (I'm quoting the Ianto alike who was on the team here
Simulation devices? Weirder than they sound, trust me.
So being me, I climb onto one.
"What's this for then?", I say, or something to that effect.
"Oooh," says the Ianto alike, "That's the digger simulator."
That's right, a digger.
It's a seat with the digger arm gubbins in front of it and the controls of the other side of the arm, so I'm hugging the arm to drive this thing (which is on a raised platform and just spins round) when other members of the team sit in the seat around the platform I'm on. Oh and all their seats have paintball guns in front of them.
So I'm hugging a digger arm, spinning round and getting shot in the back.
This is when I wake up, feeling thoroughly confused about what was going on.
As for the job I feel I would be perfect for now (assuming that crazy Torchwood don't need me):
Dear Mr Doo,
I wish to express my interest in the position with your team.
I have a very analytical mind, and am excellent at problem solving, which led me to my undergraduate degree in maths and physics. I really enjoy communicating those solutions, which is why I recently completed a masters degree in Science Communication. The degree involved wearing many different hats; solving crimes within science, unmasking those that would otherwise get away with poor communication and working for treats not unlike your snacks. I feel this experience makes me a strong candidate for this position.
In addition, I have great skills at running away, wearing costumes and enjoy working with animals. I have a full driving licence and would be happy to drive the Mystery Machine in needed.
Also, it may be of interest that I have Shaggy hair and scruffy facial hair.
Yours, etc...
Starting to try to look at temping, but no work from there yet either.
But that's just me keeping you up to date on the hunt rather than whining (coz I'm no whiner).
But with no work and very few tasks or quests to do what can I possibly write about?
Well, just because my conscious mind is doing bugger all, doesn't mean my unconscious isn't busy. Busy with some really weird dreams. So busy in fact that I'm almost concerned. Those of you schooled in psychology, prepare for your skills to be tested. Everyone else strap in; it's going to get weird.
My Torchwood dream.
Yes, that's right. Once again, proof that I watch too much TV (no adverts or credits in this one though, so that's a positive step).
So me and a bunch of other people are driving round what is presumably Cardiff, presumably hunting for aliens. I say presumably, because none of this was made explicit in the dream itself, but we was clearly Torchwood, because we were dressed like them, had the car and also visited a warehouse. (Thankfully no gay innuendo, so maybe it was Torchwood lite?) Anyway, we kick the doors down and storm into this warehouse only to find it alien-less, but full of "simulation devices" (I'm quoting the Ianto alike who was on the team here
Simulation devices? Weirder than they sound, trust me.
So being me, I climb onto one.
"What's this for then?", I say, or something to that effect.
"Oooh," says the Ianto alike, "That's the digger simulator."
That's right, a digger.
It's a seat with the digger arm gubbins in front of it and the controls of the other side of the arm, so I'm hugging the arm to drive this thing (which is on a raised platform and just spins round) when other members of the team sit in the seat around the platform I'm on. Oh and all their seats have paintball guns in front of them.
So I'm hugging a digger arm, spinning round and getting shot in the back.
This is when I wake up, feeling thoroughly confused about what was going on.
As for the job I feel I would be perfect for now (assuming that crazy Torchwood don't need me):
Dear Mr Doo,
I wish to express my interest in the position with your team.
I have a very analytical mind, and am excellent at problem solving, which led me to my undergraduate degree in maths and physics. I really enjoy communicating those solutions, which is why I recently completed a masters degree in Science Communication. The degree involved wearing many different hats; solving crimes within science, unmasking those that would otherwise get away with poor communication and working for treats not unlike your snacks. I feel this experience makes me a strong candidate for this position.
In addition, I have great skills at running away, wearing costumes and enjoy working with animals. I have a full driving licence and would be happy to drive the Mystery Machine in needed.
Also, it may be of interest that I have Shaggy hair and scruffy facial hair.
Yours, etc...
Monday, February 18, 2008
Unemployment sucks
I'm getting pretty tired of not having a job. Actually I'm tired of many many things, but in general these are traced back in a long chain to me needing a job. There's been plenty of applications but almost as many regections and a huge dollop of sod all.
Who wants to get turned down for jobs like, *rifles through files (unsucessfully)* something writer and whatchamacallit assistant. If I'm getting turned down I'm gonna get turned down for something I really, really want. So on the off chance that the relevent authorities read these pages:
Dear Mr Spielberg,
I am writing to express my interest in a position at your theme park that I saw advertised in Coventry. I am hoping to work in the area of science journalism and working with a company like yours would be a wonderful opportunity.
I have a great interest in science and technology and recently completed a masters degree in Science Communication. Having spent a year in the nexus between production and delevery of science, I am keen to continue with you. The degree did involve a great deal of dressing up and making noise and I feel this makes me a strong candidate for this position.
While studying in Bristol, I visited the zoo on a number of occasions and encountered many birds and reptiles, which I feel would count towards the necessary research for a position such as this. I also spent a lot of time wearing green and roaring, which I'm sure will be of benefit.
I think I would make an excellent dinosaur in Jurassic Park and look forward to your responce.
Yours sincerely,
"Tyrannosaurus" Doug Kitson
Who wants to get turned down for jobs like, *rifles through files (unsucessfully)* something writer and whatchamacallit assistant. If I'm getting turned down I'm gonna get turned down for something I really, really want. So on the off chance that the relevent authorities read these pages:
Dear Mr Spielberg,
I am writing to express my interest in a position at your theme park that I saw advertised in Coventry. I am hoping to work in the area of science journalism and working with a company like yours would be a wonderful opportunity.
I have a great interest in science and technology and recently completed a masters degree in Science Communication. Having spent a year in the nexus between production and delevery of science, I am keen to continue with you. The degree did involve a great deal of dressing up and making noise and I feel this makes me a strong candidate for this position.
While studying in Bristol, I visited the zoo on a number of occasions and encountered many birds and reptiles, which I feel would count towards the necessary research for a position such as this. I also spent a lot of time wearing green and roaring, which I'm sure will be of benefit.
I think I would make an excellent dinosaur in Jurassic Park and look forward to your responce.
Yours sincerely,
"Tyrannosaurus" Doug Kitson
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
2008, great...
So, i've been gone a while.
Busy doing exciting things so numberous this post will be weighty and interesting?
No, not really.
Looking for a job mostly and sitting around the house waiting for that to pan out.
It's fun if you enjoy that sort of thing.
Though I may be getting closer to a job (got an interview) so I'm full of beans again and ready to write and show anyone who asks just how enthusiastic I am, about anything.
Also, in job related news, I'll be getting a haircut.
Good stuff no?
Glad you started reading? Absolutely.
In the rest of the world, there's a bunch of new posters for 10,000BC online. 10,000BC for those of you that don't know is (as well as being a year) a movie by the guy who did Independence Day and The Day after Tomorrow and I'm looking forward to it very much.
The cavemans face is what Empire Online called "Pumbas "IT'S GONNA EAT ME!" face" which made me laugh, also I like the way he says it so it made me chuckle more.
Also, Pumba reminded me of a girl I used to know; I don't get why girls object so much to being called Pumba, clearly I have a lot of learning to do before i start giving girls nicknames. Still, the chuckling continues.
Well, I hope you're all well, and that your December-Januarys have been lovelyful so far.
Busy doing exciting things so numberous this post will be weighty and interesting?
No, not really.
Looking for a job mostly and sitting around the house waiting for that to pan out.
It's fun if you enjoy that sort of thing.
Though I may be getting closer to a job (got an interview) so I'm full of beans again and ready to write and show anyone who asks just how enthusiastic I am, about anything.
Also, in job related news, I'll be getting a haircut.
Good stuff no?
Glad you started reading? Absolutely.
In the rest of the world, there's a bunch of new posters for 10,000BC online. 10,000BC for those of you that don't know is (as well as being a year) a movie by the guy who did Independence Day and The Day after Tomorrow and I'm looking forward to it very much.
The cavemans face is what Empire Online called "Pumbas "IT'S GONNA EAT ME!" face" which made me laugh, also I like the way he says it so it made me chuckle more.
Also, Pumba reminded me of a girl I used to know; I don't get why girls object so much to being called Pumba, clearly I have a lot of learning to do before i start giving girls nicknames. Still, the chuckling continues.
Well, I hope you're all well, and that your December-Januarys have been lovelyful so far.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
A (mad) man of my word
So my dissertation is gone.
But still I can't sleep.
No idea why.
However, I using all this extra awake time to do something useful - well one burst of extra awake time, the rest is for reading Harry Potter.
I was lying awake staring at the ceiling, then the wall, then the other wall - not really one for lying still when i can't sleep - and i start coming up with limericks to amuse my still active brain.
I suggested a while ago that my dissertation's acknowledgements may take limerick form (in the end they didn't because i was too busy writing sensible words to be lyrical) but i managed to find some words that rhymed well, so some people got a limerick. (The actual acknowledgements thank people properly, this is just limeicky nonsense)
The first three are from late night, November 27th, the other three i just put together now - under the influence of a head injury that i sustained this afternoon.
The rhyme on the last ones a little tricky, so best of luck reading them.
Acknowledgements
Acknowledgements of my dissertation
- a source of continued frustration,
With these peoples persistence,
Proof reads and assistance,
It’s finally reached publication.
There was an old fellow called Jim,
Who needed to learn how to swim,
Coz his greatest of wishes,
Was studying fishes;
No water-logged corpse’s for him.
A message is hidden herein,
For our Canadian Cutey Shirin,
Her accents are hazy,
But we missed her like crazy,
In our post-presentation drinkin’
Joana, who de-serves a mention,
Proof reading with best of intention,
I take criticism poorly,
And reacted quite sorely,
(I weren’t really paying attention.)
To Alex who proof read most quickly,
His notes I responded to thickly,
Those words irritate me,
Tho’ they seek to placate me,
Once calmed, I was editing slickly.
Chris, whose proof read was quite thorough,
Whose grammar caused many brow furrow,
His battery ran out,
“You’ll do fine without”
Only the four then, from Market Har-bourgh.
But still I can't sleep.
No idea why.
However, I using all this extra awake time to do something useful - well one burst of extra awake time, the rest is for reading Harry Potter.
I was lying awake staring at the ceiling, then the wall, then the other wall - not really one for lying still when i can't sleep - and i start coming up with limericks to amuse my still active brain.
I suggested a while ago that my dissertation's acknowledgements may take limerick form (in the end they didn't because i was too busy writing sensible words to be lyrical) but i managed to find some words that rhymed well, so some people got a limerick. (The actual acknowledgements thank people properly, this is just limeicky nonsense)
The first three are from late night, November 27th, the other three i just put together now - under the influence of a head injury that i sustained this afternoon.
The rhyme on the last ones a little tricky, so best of luck reading them.
Acknowledgements
Acknowledgements of my dissertation
- a source of continued frustration,
With these peoples persistence,
Proof reads and assistance,
It’s finally reached publication.
There was an old fellow called Jim,
Who needed to learn how to swim,
Coz his greatest of wishes,
Was studying fishes;
No water-logged corpse’s for him.
A message is hidden herein,
For our Canadian Cutey Shirin,
Her accents are hazy,
But we missed her like crazy,
In our post-presentation drinkin’
Joana, who de-serves a mention,
Proof reading with best of intention,
I take criticism poorly,
And reacted quite sorely,
(I weren’t really paying attention.)
To Alex who proof read most quickly,
His notes I responded to thickly,
Those words irritate me,
Tho’ they seek to placate me,
Once calmed, I was editing slickly.
Chris, whose proof read was quite thorough,
Whose grammar caused many brow furrow,
His battery ran out,
“You’ll do fine without”
Only the four then, from Market Har-bourgh.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Last Legs
I'm feeling a little spookified at the moment.
Turns out I've been having an unintentional David Duchovny day.
Loads of Californication. Watching him be a heavy drinking, womanising, writer; it really gives me something to aspire to, you know?
I had a bunch of episodes stored up and as I had little else to do today, (more on that later probably), I decided to watch my way through them.
Then after tea, an episode of the X-Files comes on. This is what spooked me. It's this village full of people eating brains of people that don't fit in.
Now I'm left on my own in the house with a pair of dogs that shake like crazy (because they do) and they are keeping an eye on the door because obviously something between the living room and the edge of their hearing somewhere down the road is making some noises. It's this uncertainty that gives me the willies. When the dogs keep (and i mean keep because they were doing it a second ago) keep looking for something I can't see, I'm fairly sure that they are getting ready for the axe wielding, big mask wearing, brain eater to jump out.
Cleverly I have a plan. The coffee table has a glass top, or there's a bottle on the bookcase that's almost empty. Granted the bottle's still got a little of some pretty expensive stuff in and is quite light - I'm sure I'd get loads more power behind a 1m by 50cm sheet of glass, even if it would be harder to wield.
Still I'll see what instinct does to me, I could have the power of some kind of man-tiger in me just waiting to be called upon.
As anyone who has read more than one of these knows, my dissertation is due pretty soon. Good news is that I have indeed written more than the 7500 word minimum, but less than the 10,000 word maximum. So I've handed my crazy mutant baby over to my charming proof readers, who all of course have real lives and so are very kind to do this. The difficulty with the shape that I have at the moment is that it's not like every other project. I ain't researching anything. It's a making project. So, it would be alot easier to follow if I wrote it completely chronologically, but then again, maybe the issue is because I'm not quite smart enough to do anything the way I'm told. I'm not saying it's a bad 50-something pages, just that it reads a bit like one of those stories that they do from multiple perspectives. First off, Method-Doug tells you how to follow him. He's very much a backward looking guy, dwells on the past and the way things were. Results-Doug is a bit more useful, he can tell you what everyone else is saying, he knows his stuff (but as his stuff is creating this specific set of teaching materials, it's still not that useful). Finally you get Discussion-Doug. It's up to him to show off how smart he is, so he's quoting everyone, blaming other people, and in a brilliant move, pointing out how slight failure is actually better than a win as it really teaches you something useful.
But now it's getting proof read. As most people who have proof read to my face will know, I don't take this well. I got a list of notes from a friend who took his time to read it for me and the first few ones, I went though, "Nope, Wrong, You don't know as much as me about this topic, don't be daft." It was around this point I realised that if I'm getting people to proof read, deciding that I know best and ignoring anything they isn't going to help. Here I did manage to take some of what was being said in and make some improvements. Hooray! Tiny amount of personal growth!
And speaking of tiny, there really is a limit to the number of times you can hear "That's not long enough", or "Try making this a little longer", before you start questioning your masculinity.
So I was watching Strictly Come Dancing and John Barrowman is on singing Everything she does is magic, and it turns out he has an album out for Christmas! Yay!
I need to balance that one out with some overt heterosexuality. Smokey and the Bandit! Barbecued meat! Real Ale! Jessica Albas bottom!
Hooray! Balance is restored to the universe and I can stop writing.
Except to say that I just saw the word Horspitial, which I really hope is a real word for horse vets.
Turns out I've been having an unintentional David Duchovny day.
Loads of Californication. Watching him be a heavy drinking, womanising, writer; it really gives me something to aspire to, you know?
I had a bunch of episodes stored up and as I had little else to do today, (more on that later probably), I decided to watch my way through them.
Then after tea, an episode of the X-Files comes on. This is what spooked me. It's this village full of people eating brains of people that don't fit in.
Now I'm left on my own in the house with a pair of dogs that shake like crazy (because they do) and they are keeping an eye on the door because obviously something between the living room and the edge of their hearing somewhere down the road is making some noises. It's this uncertainty that gives me the willies. When the dogs keep (and i mean keep because they were doing it a second ago) keep looking for something I can't see, I'm fairly sure that they are getting ready for the axe wielding, big mask wearing, brain eater to jump out.
Cleverly I have a plan. The coffee table has a glass top, or there's a bottle on the bookcase that's almost empty. Granted the bottle's still got a little of some pretty expensive stuff in and is quite light - I'm sure I'd get loads more power behind a 1m by 50cm sheet of glass, even if it would be harder to wield.
Still I'll see what instinct does to me, I could have the power of some kind of man-tiger in me just waiting to be called upon.
As anyone who has read more than one of these knows, my dissertation is due pretty soon. Good news is that I have indeed written more than the 7500 word minimum, but less than the 10,000 word maximum. So I've handed my crazy mutant baby over to my charming proof readers, who all of course have real lives and so are very kind to do this. The difficulty with the shape that I have at the moment is that it's not like every other project. I ain't researching anything. It's a making project. So, it would be alot easier to follow if I wrote it completely chronologically, but then again, maybe the issue is because I'm not quite smart enough to do anything the way I'm told. I'm not saying it's a bad 50-something pages, just that it reads a bit like one of those stories that they do from multiple perspectives. First off, Method-Doug tells you how to follow him. He's very much a backward looking guy, dwells on the past and the way things were. Results-Doug is a bit more useful, he can tell you what everyone else is saying, he knows his stuff (but as his stuff is creating this specific set of teaching materials, it's still not that useful). Finally you get Discussion-Doug. It's up to him to show off how smart he is, so he's quoting everyone, blaming other people, and in a brilliant move, pointing out how slight failure is actually better than a win as it really teaches you something useful.
But now it's getting proof read. As most people who have proof read to my face will know, I don't take this well. I got a list of notes from a friend who took his time to read it for me and the first few ones, I went though, "Nope, Wrong, You don't know as much as me about this topic, don't be daft." It was around this point I realised that if I'm getting people to proof read, deciding that I know best and ignoring anything they isn't going to help. Here I did manage to take some of what was being said in and make some improvements. Hooray! Tiny amount of personal growth!
And speaking of tiny, there really is a limit to the number of times you can hear "That's not long enough", or "Try making this a little longer", before you start questioning your masculinity.
So I was watching Strictly Come Dancing and John Barrowman is on singing Everything she does is magic, and it turns out he has an album out for Christmas! Yay!
I need to balance that one out with some overt heterosexuality. Smokey and the Bandit! Barbecued meat! Real Ale! Jessica Albas bottom!
Hooray! Balance is restored to the universe and I can stop writing.
Except to say that I just saw the word Horspitial, which I really hope is a real word for horse vets.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Studio 60
I've just been watching the two episodes of studio 60 that i recorded last night (theres a fancy box under the tv that does it for me automatically - aint that exciting?)
anyway i loves me some studio 60 and it makes me feel pretty smart and it made me realise i havent written anything non science/sci comm related for ages and im just itching to be odd for a bit.
but first, or second i guess coz there's that first bit... before i continue i want to send a blug to hayley for commenting on my actual blog not the facebook or FaW feeds - you gotta be the first person to bother looking at that site and so i blug you. (blugs for the uneducated, not that any of you are of course, but blugs are a cross between a blog and a hug and it's what you get for posting at the origin of my posts rather than the end pont. origin website-wise, not my head, which has no comment box)
but! (not butt! as i've been locked inside and unable to scope the honeyz)
but!
i have been to the movies to see stardust!
which i was excited about previously and you may of read, or not i guess but if you remembered you definitly deserve a blug, or a manly handshake if your too sweaty and/or sticky.
Gotta say i loved it, (stardust), just because it's pretty weird.
i was looking forward to manly sky piracy, but robert de niro was so very funny in a "that was totally not what i expected" kinda way. also i'm probably either getting longer hair or a bowler hat because of the hero, but it could go either way at the moment.
but it's so going in my weird and cool fairytale movie pile, with The Princess Bride (which must be watched by everyone as soon as they can find it)
as you'd expect theres not been much in terms of out doors adventuring, what with me plowing through 500 words of dissertation a day (many of them of the intellegent variety).
but i have been travelling the country in a car as i am want to do of an occasion. theres this bathroom in a motorway service station, (this just has classic story written all over it), but im walking into this bathroom, tweaking my look in the mirrors over the sink when i realise the refection staring back at me is a shortish plumpish baldish buisness man. this is not what i'm expecting to see, being of the tallish, skinnyish, hairyish persuasion. i do my cartoon double take and realise that these rows of sinks are in fact mirrorless and that the man opposite me seems to be under the impression he's only two sinks away from a total loonatic.
anyhow, i am going crazy. but i may actually finish my dissertation on time - still a long way to go, i'm around the half way mark prose-wise, but what i've done is going to need tinkering to stop it being blatent lies, self-contradictory nonsence and quotes from movies with surprisingly little to do with science communicating teaching materials.
also the take that song from stardust is on repeat to add to or sooth my madness, i just don't know which.
p.s. the fancy recording box under my tv is not a video recorder, i happen to be fairly with it technology wise and it's clearly a magic v-box, containing witch craft and a fat, grumpy pixie with a copy of the radiotimes.
p.p.s. blugs are also blue slugs, but i'm using the verb rather than the noun, duh
anyway i loves me some studio 60 and it makes me feel pretty smart and it made me realise i havent written anything non science/sci comm related for ages and im just itching to be odd for a bit.
but first, or second i guess coz there's that first bit... before i continue i want to send a blug to hayley for commenting on my actual blog not the facebook or FaW feeds - you gotta be the first person to bother looking at that site and so i blug you. (blugs for the uneducated, not that any of you are of course, but blugs are a cross between a blog and a hug and it's what you get for posting at the origin of my posts rather than the end pont. origin website-wise, not my head, which has no comment box)
but! (not butt! as i've been locked inside and unable to scope the honeyz)
but!
i have been to the movies to see stardust!
which i was excited about previously and you may of read, or not i guess but if you remembered you definitly deserve a blug, or a manly handshake if your too sweaty and/or sticky.
Gotta say i loved it, (stardust), just because it's pretty weird.
i was looking forward to manly sky piracy, but robert de niro was so very funny in a "that was totally not what i expected" kinda way. also i'm probably either getting longer hair or a bowler hat because of the hero, but it could go either way at the moment.
but it's so going in my weird and cool fairytale movie pile, with The Princess Bride (which must be watched by everyone as soon as they can find it)
as you'd expect theres not been much in terms of out doors adventuring, what with me plowing through 500 words of dissertation a day (many of them of the intellegent variety).
but i have been travelling the country in a car as i am want to do of an occasion. theres this bathroom in a motorway service station, (this just has classic story written all over it), but im walking into this bathroom, tweaking my look in the mirrors over the sink when i realise the refection staring back at me is a shortish plumpish baldish buisness man. this is not what i'm expecting to see, being of the tallish, skinnyish, hairyish persuasion. i do my cartoon double take and realise that these rows of sinks are in fact mirrorless and that the man opposite me seems to be under the impression he's only two sinks away from a total loonatic.
anyhow, i am going crazy. but i may actually finish my dissertation on time - still a long way to go, i'm around the half way mark prose-wise, but what i've done is going to need tinkering to stop it being blatent lies, self-contradictory nonsence and quotes from movies with surprisingly little to do with science communicating teaching materials.
also the take that song from stardust is on repeat to add to or sooth my madness, i just don't know which.
p.s. the fancy recording box under my tv is not a video recorder, i happen to be fairly with it technology wise and it's clearly a magic v-box, containing witch craft and a fat, grumpy pixie with a copy of the radiotimes.
p.p.s. blugs are also blue slugs, but i'm using the verb rather than the noun, duh
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Wowzers
I'm feeling manly, if slightly foolish right now. My "COME ON!!" roar that usually accompanies an exceptional drive in rugby (viewing not playing, obviously) does sound good, but as it's quite a bit louder than most of my hiding behind a cushion type usualness, it does make me feel a bit silly, especially when done in polite company. Clearly this is the key advantage to being down the pub - any lack of civility is to be expected.
But, really a bit of manlyness is nice, because it makes up for the fairly pathetic lack of manlyness that was my bristol trip.
So my dissertation has passed the presentation stage. i had to go to bristol on tuesday(?, i think) to present what ive done so far. it was a four hour trip down in a complete white out of rain, very exciting, very slow, but a perfect time to have pirates of the caribbean in the cd player. surely there must of been other cars out there singing sea shanties at the top of their voice as the car aqua-plains at rather high speeds. (i did get to a corner where a sign warns us to stay at fifty and i remember thinking "hmm... best get back down to seventy," then, "down?! eh?")
presentation was ok and i got to see loads of bristol types which was nice, but after all of the ale drinking and sleeping on the floor of the house of sci comm with a noisy german and i left with one of the most pathetic wounds possible.
lots of people i hadn't seen in months and wouldn't be seeing for a while. all the emotional hellos and goodbyes actually pulled a muscle in my shoulder.
thats right, a hugging injury.
god damn it. what the hell?!
but i took it like a man - the drive back with such a serious shoulder pain was tough, but i soldiered through.
i dragged myself back home and slept for thirty six hours.
now there's just my dissertation's actual writing to do. through the magic that is copy and paste i'm currently at 3094. and as long as my hug wounds don't slow me down to much i might do ok.
that's might though.
coz it's me.
and you can never be sure how i'm going to hurt myself next...
But, really a bit of manlyness is nice, because it makes up for the fairly pathetic lack of manlyness that was my bristol trip.
So my dissertation has passed the presentation stage. i had to go to bristol on tuesday(?, i think) to present what ive done so far. it was a four hour trip down in a complete white out of rain, very exciting, very slow, but a perfect time to have pirates of the caribbean in the cd player. surely there must of been other cars out there singing sea shanties at the top of their voice as the car aqua-plains at rather high speeds. (i did get to a corner where a sign warns us to stay at fifty and i remember thinking "hmm... best get back down to seventy," then, "down?! eh?")
presentation was ok and i got to see loads of bristol types which was nice, but after all of the ale drinking and sleeping on the floor of the house of sci comm with a noisy german and i left with one of the most pathetic wounds possible.
lots of people i hadn't seen in months and wouldn't be seeing for a while. all the emotional hellos and goodbyes actually pulled a muscle in my shoulder.
thats right, a hugging injury.
god damn it. what the hell?!
but i took it like a man - the drive back with such a serious shoulder pain was tough, but i soldiered through.
i dragged myself back home and slept for thirty six hours.
now there's just my dissertation's actual writing to do. through the magic that is copy and paste i'm currently at 3094. and as long as my hug wounds don't slow me down to much i might do ok.
that's might though.
coz it's me.
and you can never be sure how i'm going to hurt myself next...
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Tightness
Yep, it's getting to the pointy end of my dissertation.
I'm not surprisingly underprepared, but that's only because i was obviously not preparing.
What's managed to bother me recently is the attempts by my brain to calm itself. When other people start worrying that they havn't written much, i normally say "Ha, don't worry, i've written much less." Problem is this does not make me feel better when i say it to myself.
But in typical doug fashion i'm dragging myself over the finish line regardless.
Just finished watching the rugby for today - fantastic and makes me feel good about the image of myself forcing my dissertation over the 10,000 words line, dragging behind me the enormous blokes that are time constraints and a total lack of focus.
As usual i have much to distract me, my TV is on the fritz in a fairly terminal way, which is massively sad - you need to understand, this TV has been with me for years, so many tv, video, dvd and computer gaming memories. :'(
and while not watching TV would speed up most peoples work, my work is actually slowing down as i feel so sad about it.
the good news is that my job hunt may be nearing an end - im off to Culham in a week and a bit to see if they want me to help present a thing in schools about the sun, which as they havnt got anyone else seems pretty likely.
AND im looking into getting a car for the eventual/possibly quite soon relocation. and when a corsa (or corsair as my mum kept saying) is going for only a hundred quid, you know its gotta be good, only needs the seats fixing and wiper... something. but seat repair has the potential to be hours of fun, big seats, comfy seats, bench seats, leathery seats, racing seats, or the far more likely patchwork quilt seats.
i'd assume there was something wrong with the world if the car i owned wasn't on it's last legs, a neat and tidy car just doesnt fit me i'm afraid. until i have the cash to get a shiny new one, like an aston or a jag or something.
anyway
DISSERTATION HO!
I'm not surprisingly underprepared, but that's only because i was obviously not preparing.
What's managed to bother me recently is the attempts by my brain to calm itself. When other people start worrying that they havn't written much, i normally say "Ha, don't worry, i've written much less." Problem is this does not make me feel better when i say it to myself.
But in typical doug fashion i'm dragging myself over the finish line regardless.
Just finished watching the rugby for today - fantastic and makes me feel good about the image of myself forcing my dissertation over the 10,000 words line, dragging behind me the enormous blokes that are time constraints and a total lack of focus.
As usual i have much to distract me, my TV is on the fritz in a fairly terminal way, which is massively sad - you need to understand, this TV has been with me for years, so many tv, video, dvd and computer gaming memories. :'(
and while not watching TV would speed up most peoples work, my work is actually slowing down as i feel so sad about it.
the good news is that my job hunt may be nearing an end - im off to Culham in a week and a bit to see if they want me to help present a thing in schools about the sun, which as they havnt got anyone else seems pretty likely.
AND im looking into getting a car for the eventual/possibly quite soon relocation. and when a corsa (or corsair as my mum kept saying) is going for only a hundred quid, you know its gotta be good, only needs the seats fixing and wiper... something. but seat repair has the potential to be hours of fun, big seats, comfy seats, bench seats, leathery seats, racing seats, or the far more likely patchwork quilt seats.
i'd assume there was something wrong with the world if the car i owned wasn't on it's last legs, a neat and tidy car just doesnt fit me i'm afraid. until i have the cash to get a shiny new one, like an aston or a jag or something.
anyway
DISSERTATION HO!
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Pirates of the Sky
One thing that is quite sad (boo hoo sad, not doug you're really pretty sad arn't you? sad) about spending as much time as i do reading movie news and being excited about movies is that i'm always excited around the time it's announced and then have to wait like a year for it to be made and come out.
well a nice thing is that i have just seen the trailer for a film called Stardust and it's got me crazy excited, and it come out in like a month. woo hoo for no waiting. and the film's all sky piratey and magic and crazy fun and swordfighting which you know i love.
although, you want waiting - i'm literally counting down the days till halo 3 comes out. or more accuratly til the weekend after so that me and my halo playing buddies can go play.
so. freaking. excited.
thats not to say that i've been doing nothing but wait. oh no, plenty of new-house chores, (i had giant green hands today to pick up huge amounts of holly cuttings - i pretended to be a dinosaur, but then couldn't think of any that had big hands, so settled on a huge monster that roars and waves his arms. oh, you can scorn now but soon all of japan will be in a tizzy.)
also, in the shock/at last catagory, i have organised my dissertation's classroom intervention.
with 2 months to go it's time to start doing things.
oh yes, a science communicator is me.
depending on your definitions i have also been partying, tho in a silver wedding aniversary sence. still, it was a great excuse to wear a suit, drink heavyly and then spend the last hour in a ball pit.
on the subject of ball pits, im thinking of installing one when i eventually get a house/flat/hut, they are immencely comfortable, you can hide in them and spring out at unsuspecting passers by and make them spill their drinks, throw an endless supply of balls at people or just swim in your shirt and tie. versatile and hilarious. could be amazing - but expencive unfortunatly.
but i think i have found a nearly perfect job for me, there's science, communication, nuclear fission and big equipment.
all that it lacks is puppets, for now...
well a nice thing is that i have just seen the trailer for a film called Stardust and it's got me crazy excited, and it come out in like a month. woo hoo for no waiting. and the film's all sky piratey and magic and crazy fun and swordfighting which you know i love.
although, you want waiting - i'm literally counting down the days till halo 3 comes out. or more accuratly til the weekend after so that me and my halo playing buddies can go play.
so. freaking. excited.
thats not to say that i've been doing nothing but wait. oh no, plenty of new-house chores, (i had giant green hands today to pick up huge amounts of holly cuttings - i pretended to be a dinosaur, but then couldn't think of any that had big hands, so settled on a huge monster that roars and waves his arms. oh, you can scorn now but soon all of japan will be in a tizzy.)
also, in the shock/at last catagory, i have organised my dissertation's classroom intervention.
with 2 months to go it's time to start doing things.
oh yes, a science communicator is me.
depending on your definitions i have also been partying, tho in a silver wedding aniversary sence. still, it was a great excuse to wear a suit, drink heavyly and then spend the last hour in a ball pit.
on the subject of ball pits, im thinking of installing one when i eventually get a house/flat/hut, they are immencely comfortable, you can hide in them and spring out at unsuspecting passers by and make them spill their drinks, throw an endless supply of balls at people or just swim in your shirt and tie. versatile and hilarious. could be amazing - but expencive unfortunatly.
but i think i have found a nearly perfect job for me, there's science, communication, nuclear fission and big equipment.
all that it lacks is puppets, for now...
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Saucy Puppeteers
Clearly my dissertation work needs to be done.
You can tell i must be planning on doing some actual work because this is the second time in a week that i've written anything. oo, it smacks of avoidance.
hmm. havent used smacks in that context for a while - feeling smart now. also pleased i used yonks as a unit of time this evening.
you will be glad to know no doubt, that despite getting a small bag of percy pigs when i went to m&s on friday, i managed to refrain from posting gibberish. but of course (as is the way with the pigs) i have no memory of what i actually did do, last time i dressed up in braces and a shirt and spent most of the evening running round the kitchen in UWE, but it was a much larger bag that time.
of course what i have done, on saturday to be exact, was steward the arts fresco in market harbourgh.
which ment a day spent with puppetteers, stilt walkers, fake frenchmen, german frenchmen, real french people, genuine crazy people, living statues and then puppeteers again. awesome to the max.
the arts fresco is sort of a festival were tons of street performers fill market harbourgh and do all sorts of exciting arty performancy things.
my job was to keep an eye on them in a role clearly created by health and safety so the organisers dont poo themselves about performers and the public getting run over or into fights. and i did my job quite well thank you very much.
it was mildly intense tho, when the performers start wondering near to the living statues. anyone who knows me or doctor who will know about the weeping angel statues in the most recent series and the fact that they scared the crackers out of me. so when the performers start puppetting their way over to them i take it as my job to not blink and watch the angel statue non stop til we get free.
this was fine with my musketeer type men, who handed out roses to ladies they liked the look of, nearly got us all run over as they poodled around in the road and were prefectly happy to leg it for portions of the town, but, my little puppet people had tiny tiny legs and were very slow moving.
the puppets were kinda like hobbits with huge backpacks, with the performers in the backpacks, hands operating the head and a hand and rediculously tiny legs at the bottom.
now in one of these puppets was an attractive female puppetteer, and as bad as i am at dealing with attractive females generally, it's even more difficult when you're faced with extra complications, for instance if the puppets head is roughly at the girls stomach height and i cannot possibly see where her eyes are looking inside the bag, is it best to address the puppets face/her stomach?
i just don't know, but it was fun anyway.
and spending the day with puppets was fantastic so no complaining.
also there's something wonderfully doug-like about all the stewards having sandwiches together in a dingy theatre during their lunch break, while i eat the performers food and sit with a french band and opera-type-singers and a guy who was wearing a nightdress (till he took it of) and talking on a banana.
i really do love the interesting life sometimes.
You can tell i must be planning on doing some actual work because this is the second time in a week that i've written anything. oo, it smacks of avoidance.
hmm. havent used smacks in that context for a while - feeling smart now. also pleased i used yonks as a unit of time this evening.
you will be glad to know no doubt, that despite getting a small bag of percy pigs when i went to m&s on friday, i managed to refrain from posting gibberish. but of course (as is the way with the pigs) i have no memory of what i actually did do, last time i dressed up in braces and a shirt and spent most of the evening running round the kitchen in UWE, but it was a much larger bag that time.
of course what i have done, on saturday to be exact, was steward the arts fresco in market harbourgh.
which ment a day spent with puppetteers, stilt walkers, fake frenchmen, german frenchmen, real french people, genuine crazy people, living statues and then puppeteers again. awesome to the max.
the arts fresco is sort of a festival were tons of street performers fill market harbourgh and do all sorts of exciting arty performancy things.
my job was to keep an eye on them in a role clearly created by health and safety so the organisers dont poo themselves about performers and the public getting run over or into fights. and i did my job quite well thank you very much.
it was mildly intense tho, when the performers start wondering near to the living statues. anyone who knows me or doctor who will know about the weeping angel statues in the most recent series and the fact that they scared the crackers out of me. so when the performers start puppetting their way over to them i take it as my job to not blink and watch the angel statue non stop til we get free.
this was fine with my musketeer type men, who handed out roses to ladies they liked the look of, nearly got us all run over as they poodled around in the road and were prefectly happy to leg it for portions of the town, but, my little puppet people had tiny tiny legs and were very slow moving.
the puppets were kinda like hobbits with huge backpacks, with the performers in the backpacks, hands operating the head and a hand and rediculously tiny legs at the bottom.
now in one of these puppets was an attractive female puppetteer, and as bad as i am at dealing with attractive females generally, it's even more difficult when you're faced with extra complications, for instance if the puppets head is roughly at the girls stomach height and i cannot possibly see where her eyes are looking inside the bag, is it best to address the puppets face/her stomach?
i just don't know, but it was fun anyway.
and spending the day with puppets was fantastic so no complaining.
also there's something wonderfully doug-like about all the stewards having sandwiches together in a dingy theatre during their lunch break, while i eat the performers food and sit with a french band and opera-type-singers and a guy who was wearing a nightdress (till he took it of) and talking on a banana.
i really do love the interesting life sometimes.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Giant Crabs From Beyond Space
I'm having a funny old time at the moment debating the capitalization of the title. Ok so not funny ha ha, but curiously doug-like. clearly giant crabs looks cooler with capitals to begin them. Space also seems more dramatic with a bigger S, then 'from beyond' are dwarfed. any way i figured i'd throw grammatical accuracy to the wind and just capitalise all of them. woo hoo, life on the edge.
anyway, it's been a whole month since i last felt the need to write.
i have my dissertation due soonish, because it's not quite like everyone elses and if i don't have the bulk of the doing done before october i doubt i'll find time for the writing. still it's currently sunny which really helps keep me focused, or as close to focused as i get.
it seems with me, any job you can't do topless in the sun with a drink while reading harry potter is just never going to get done.
also there's so much else to get done here.
i need a quick bust of happyness for completeing zelda on pete's wii. hearty huzzars for kicking multiple monster arse.
see where as most people fight distraction and try (in my case unsuccessfully) to focus on their work, i'm developing a different approach. if i watch all my movies and complete all the computer games i can then i will be clear of all distraction and capable of working at an increadable speed. the logic is mind boggling. imagine how fast i could work if my brain was clear. terrorfying.
decorating was finished today, which is nice because all the funiture is back in the right room and i dont have to pop next door to change channel, but it's also sad because i lose so much of the things that were making me the hyper masculine piece of prime studdlyness that i currently am.
carrying heavy things, gone.
hitting things with a hammer, (my favourate manly activity,) gone.
getting paint and grime and dust and scratches all over my bridgestone romper suit, gone.
splinters and hammer wounds, gone.
it's sad. it could be weeks or month before i have DIY type projects to do, i'll get all stringy and useless again. losing my diet coke guy physiques in favour of one of the regular good loking guy's the ad. ok one of the regular looking guys. ok regular looking girls.
mostly it's just sad there were no ladies around to be impressed by my carrying, painting and hammering (sometimes simultaniously). thems the breaks i guess.
unfortunatly after one of my (now pretty much daily) blows to the head, i mentioned to my mum that i sometimes put in these posts if i had wounded myself in ways i considered spectaularly stupid or just plain spectacular, so now whenever i'm wounded in the line of duty all i get is, "is that going in you're blog?"
Bet Charles Dickens never had to put up with this shit.
anyway, it's been a whole month since i last felt the need to write.
i have my dissertation due soonish, because it's not quite like everyone elses and if i don't have the bulk of the doing done before october i doubt i'll find time for the writing. still it's currently sunny which really helps keep me focused, or as close to focused as i get.
it seems with me, any job you can't do topless in the sun with a drink while reading harry potter is just never going to get done.
also there's so much else to get done here.
i need a quick bust of happyness for completeing zelda on pete's wii. hearty huzzars for kicking multiple monster arse.
see where as most people fight distraction and try (in my case unsuccessfully) to focus on their work, i'm developing a different approach. if i watch all my movies and complete all the computer games i can then i will be clear of all distraction and capable of working at an increadable speed. the logic is mind boggling. imagine how fast i could work if my brain was clear. terrorfying.
decorating was finished today, which is nice because all the funiture is back in the right room and i dont have to pop next door to change channel, but it's also sad because i lose so much of the things that were making me the hyper masculine piece of prime studdlyness that i currently am.
carrying heavy things, gone.
hitting things with a hammer, (my favourate manly activity,) gone.
getting paint and grime and dust and scratches all over my bridgestone romper suit, gone.
splinters and hammer wounds, gone.
it's sad. it could be weeks or month before i have DIY type projects to do, i'll get all stringy and useless again. losing my diet coke guy physiques in favour of one of the regular good loking guy's the ad. ok one of the regular looking guys. ok regular looking girls.
mostly it's just sad there were no ladies around to be impressed by my carrying, painting and hammering (sometimes simultaniously). thems the breaks i guess.
unfortunatly after one of my (now pretty much daily) blows to the head, i mentioned to my mum that i sometimes put in these posts if i had wounded myself in ways i considered spectaularly stupid or just plain spectacular, so now whenever i'm wounded in the line of duty all i get is, "is that going in you're blog?"
Bet Charles Dickens never had to put up with this shit.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Hugs for all
I'm feeling pretty happy at the moment.
Yes, im reading a fairly depressing book with vampires in it, the weather is nothing to smile about and there's a great deal of effort involved in making my parentals new house properly liveable, but i'm a sad boy and so apparently all this can be over ridden by some nice things happening in the sims.
Captain Doug's children have grown up to be very attractive and everything is working out nicely. This is a good time to be a computer generated version of me.
Really whats happening is the time i should have my dissertation ready is rapidly approaching. the real deadline is ages away, but there are thing that need doing before then and for some reason there always seem to be something far more urgent to do.
First on the list is decorating of the new house. after fitting everything in to the rooms and almost getting to a point where i dont cut my arms open on things i wasnt expecting to hit, we move everything out of the sitting room to decorate. wonderful.
but now we just got cable! 900 channels to enjoy and a fancy box that can record and pause and all that loverlyness. woo
but... the box is in the real sitting room, which the tv is not in. so to enjoy this wonderful toy, or to change the channel or view the tv guide, i have to run between rooms. surfing used to be a relaxing past time. sitting down with a dog next to you. 900 channels 7 at a time means more than 100 trips of the roughly 5 metre route - thats a half a kilometre just to try and find something to watch. that can take AGES! and where as in the sitting positions the dogs are still, with the moving version the dogs are always following me, and as the route involves constant 180 turns and tiny gaps it means tripping over a jack russell every 10 seconds. infuriating and painful when the falls involves contact betweenmy head and corners of temporaryly located bookcases or tables
in the 5 weeks i've lived here i've probably done enough to premanantly damage my brain. the first couple of weeks were a constant assalt of injuries from kitchen cupboards and many doors in general that i wasnt expecting, the shower door in perticular is poorly designed and extremely sharp as cuts over my shoulders on the way in and hips on the way out can prove. But the worst so far was in the bath. the back of the house has a roof that is angled down through the rooms over there so the bathroom and Petes room have low celings in some areas. in the bathroom this is where the bath is tucked. so after a large amount of bumps i soak my weary limbs for a while and try to leave the bath in the nice dreamy kind of nice mind set that you can get after a hot, quiet bath. and BAM. my head gets absolutely smashed into the celing that i didnt realise was sloped. i'm standing there nude, wet and stunned trying to figure out what the hell just happened, doing my best not to collapse over the side of the bath or into many of the boxes that filled the room at that time.
lesson learned. mind your head.
anyway i will have to start my dissertation at some point. hopefully all the sitting will keep me out of real danger. (at least until i get bored enough to go looking for real trouble)
ttfn
Yes, im reading a fairly depressing book with vampires in it, the weather is nothing to smile about and there's a great deal of effort involved in making my parentals new house properly liveable, but i'm a sad boy and so apparently all this can be over ridden by some nice things happening in the sims.
Captain Doug's children have grown up to be very attractive and everything is working out nicely. This is a good time to be a computer generated version of me.
Really whats happening is the time i should have my dissertation ready is rapidly approaching. the real deadline is ages away, but there are thing that need doing before then and for some reason there always seem to be something far more urgent to do.
First on the list is decorating of the new house. after fitting everything in to the rooms and almost getting to a point where i dont cut my arms open on things i wasnt expecting to hit, we move everything out of the sitting room to decorate. wonderful.
but now we just got cable! 900 channels to enjoy and a fancy box that can record and pause and all that loverlyness. woo
but... the box is in the real sitting room, which the tv is not in. so to enjoy this wonderful toy, or to change the channel or view the tv guide, i have to run between rooms. surfing used to be a relaxing past time. sitting down with a dog next to you. 900 channels 7 at a time means more than 100 trips of the roughly 5 metre route - thats a half a kilometre just to try and find something to watch. that can take AGES! and where as in the sitting positions the dogs are still, with the moving version the dogs are always following me, and as the route involves constant 180 turns and tiny gaps it means tripping over a jack russell every 10 seconds. infuriating and painful when the falls involves contact betweenmy head and corners of temporaryly located bookcases or tables
in the 5 weeks i've lived here i've probably done enough to premanantly damage my brain. the first couple of weeks were a constant assalt of injuries from kitchen cupboards and many doors in general that i wasnt expecting, the shower door in perticular is poorly designed and extremely sharp as cuts over my shoulders on the way in and hips on the way out can prove. But the worst so far was in the bath. the back of the house has a roof that is angled down through the rooms over there so the bathroom and Petes room have low celings in some areas. in the bathroom this is where the bath is tucked. so after a large amount of bumps i soak my weary limbs for a while and try to leave the bath in the nice dreamy kind of nice mind set that you can get after a hot, quiet bath. and BAM. my head gets absolutely smashed into the celing that i didnt realise was sloped. i'm standing there nude, wet and stunned trying to figure out what the hell just happened, doing my best not to collapse over the side of the bath or into many of the boxes that filled the room at that time.
lesson learned. mind your head.
anyway i will have to start my dissertation at some point. hopefully all the sitting will keep me out of real danger. (at least until i get bored enough to go looking for real trouble)
ttfn
Monday, August 06, 2007
Cautionary tales
Bloody Harry Potter.
Don't get me wrong, i loved the seventh book. i don't know if it was the long periods of staying awake to read it - i managed to stretch it over the weekend, but it sitting there not finished kept me awake for most of the saturday and then the need to keep going kept me up late on the sunday - but by the end i was totally drained, because it was so sad, also my room's quite dusty so most people would be a bit sniffy if they spent to long in there.
i have just finished a reread and there are a bunch of bits that are even sadder the second time round. but it was the events in the real world during my reading that were not good.
The thing is recently the sun has returned and so naturally i feel the need to get some colour. So i take the seventh book out into the garden to sit and read, it's very sunny and obviously i know that i need to be careful, so i decide only to read one chapter. But three or so chapters later i realise my lack of getting out of the sun has left me pretty crispy. So from that evening until several days later instead of my normal glow in the dark paleness i was glow in the dark pink across my chest and shoulders. Serious discomfort followed.
The pain has gone and my shoulders are now shedding skin - but it occurs to me that this could be extremely useful, through much gentle peeling i now have breast pockets like on a dress shirt, fantastic for carrying extra sun cream or gentle written reminders to be less of a tit in the future.
For those of you that dont know, i have now been moved. that is to say that my parents have moved and as i have yet to find an excuse to flee, i have been taken along like a wardrobe full of coats - though hopefully more useful during the unpacking.
We are now in a tiny TINY village just outside of lincolnshire, a pub, a bus stop and a post office that doesnt sell milk. it transpires that we really are rather closer to Newark (only place name in England which is and anagram of wanker). the claims of any posh lincolnyness really is on a par with the university of warwick and it's complete failure to realise it's actually in coventry.
that is pretty much all thats happening here, unpacking and dog sitting till my parents get back. i really should be doing more work - i have a dissertation that needs continuing - and there are jobs that i need to apply for/find.
anyway, enjoy the sun and for gods sake wear sun cream.
Don't get me wrong, i loved the seventh book. i don't know if it was the long periods of staying awake to read it - i managed to stretch it over the weekend, but it sitting there not finished kept me awake for most of the saturday and then the need to keep going kept me up late on the sunday - but by the end i was totally drained, because it was so sad, also my room's quite dusty so most people would be a bit sniffy if they spent to long in there.
i have just finished a reread and there are a bunch of bits that are even sadder the second time round. but it was the events in the real world during my reading that were not good.
The thing is recently the sun has returned and so naturally i feel the need to get some colour. So i take the seventh book out into the garden to sit and read, it's very sunny and obviously i know that i need to be careful, so i decide only to read one chapter. But three or so chapters later i realise my lack of getting out of the sun has left me pretty crispy. So from that evening until several days later instead of my normal glow in the dark paleness i was glow in the dark pink across my chest and shoulders. Serious discomfort followed.
The pain has gone and my shoulders are now shedding skin - but it occurs to me that this could be extremely useful, through much gentle peeling i now have breast pockets like on a dress shirt, fantastic for carrying extra sun cream or gentle written reminders to be less of a tit in the future.
For those of you that dont know, i have now been moved. that is to say that my parents have moved and as i have yet to find an excuse to flee, i have been taken along like a wardrobe full of coats - though hopefully more useful during the unpacking.
We are now in a tiny TINY village just outside of lincolnshire, a pub, a bus stop and a post office that doesnt sell milk. it transpires that we really are rather closer to Newark (only place name in England which is and anagram of wanker). the claims of any posh lincolnyness really is on a par with the university of warwick and it's complete failure to realise it's actually in coventry.
that is pretty much all thats happening here, unpacking and dog sitting till my parents get back. i really should be doing more work - i have a dissertation that needs continuing - and there are jobs that i need to apply for/find.
anyway, enjoy the sun and for gods sake wear sun cream.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Probably the last Southam post
Well, this will be brief. The computer is being hauled away as i type but naturally i screwed up my face and stamped my feet till i was allowed to quickly check facebook, and email, and EmpireOnline and write a note.
So i Leave Southam soon, currently surrounded by boxes - i finally manage to get my room clear of junk all over the floor to get more than a square metre of standing room and the whole of the rest of the house fills with boxes and bags. very nomadic but a pain in the knee caps if you wanna move around quickly.
Speaking of random pains my whole body is covering in small scraches from taking apart sheds and overly sharp boxes - not that they're noticable but they really itch from all the dust and splinters in them.
anyway i'll probably do a proper good-bye once ive good-gone
so so long southam, no more posts from here.
see you some time, maybe one christmas when i visit the people down here. who knows?
So i Leave Southam soon, currently surrounded by boxes - i finally manage to get my room clear of junk all over the floor to get more than a square metre of standing room and the whole of the rest of the house fills with boxes and bags. very nomadic but a pain in the knee caps if you wanna move around quickly.
Speaking of random pains my whole body is covering in small scraches from taking apart sheds and overly sharp boxes - not that they're noticable but they really itch from all the dust and splinters in them.
anyway i'll probably do a proper good-bye once ive good-gone
so so long southam, no more posts from here.
see you some time, maybe one christmas when i visit the people down here. who knows?
Thursday, June 28, 2007
The Rise of the Photocopier
So I have returned to Southam.
and after one evening of rest i got to work finding money (having spent the last £50 in my account on a computer game).
thus the next day i was down the employment centre and by Monday i had a job sorted in a reprographics place near leam. not science communication, but i need beer money.
Four days of standing around has naturally addled my brain some, fortunately i have found ways of surviving and have inadvertently become THE PHOTOCOPIER. (for full effect you have to read that sentence out loud getting gradually louder as you go)
ok its only slightly superheroic (ok not very at all) but it can keep me amused.
Monday: The origins of the Photocopier. Wherein a mild(ish) mannered journalist acquires the power of the duplication of paper! wooOOoooOOOooo. and our plucky hero also learns to comb bind, almost blinding himself with poorly designed equipment.
Tuesday: Wherein our hero, now possessed of duplication, faces herculean tasks as the companies legal department request huge tests of his skills by massive folders. Our hero gains the power of scanning and emailing and adds a stapler to his utility harness. Also a trial by flesh is taken as our hero welds enormous scissors in a most unsafe manner, and badly punctures his left hand, causing great bleeding and discomfort.
Wednesday: Having recovered from his non fatal qounds of the day before our hero continues his efforts. Learning the respective skills of sure and wire binding, he binds increasingly large documents. He also faces A0 dupilcation and survives, folding like a greek god.
Thursday: This is the day that our young hero learns the greatest lesson of all. The skill of watching the desk, after which large portions of the day become devoted to sitting and serving the more attractive damsels in distress.
now thats superheroic.
What challenges await him tomorrow and possibly next week if they still need someone when stuart goes to work in the mailroom because they are short staffed to? ONLY TIME WILL TELL.
Also, in actual news i got a haircut. Shazam!
Bearing in mind that saying i look like David Tennent or John Barrowman will illicit cries of anger and disgust from their respective lady followers, who will claim me far less attractive and damage my streads of self-esteem, i instead have decided i look like Ricky Martin.
my hair's sorta short and spikey.
it's good, don't worry.
and after one evening of rest i got to work finding money (having spent the last £50 in my account on a computer game).
thus the next day i was down the employment centre and by Monday i had a job sorted in a reprographics place near leam. not science communication, but i need beer money.
Four days of standing around has naturally addled my brain some, fortunately i have found ways of surviving and have inadvertently become THE PHOTOCOPIER. (for full effect you have to read that sentence out loud getting gradually louder as you go)
ok its only slightly superheroic (ok not very at all) but it can keep me amused.
Monday: The origins of the Photocopier. Wherein a mild(ish) mannered journalist acquires the power of the duplication of paper! wooOOoooOOOooo. and our plucky hero also learns to comb bind, almost blinding himself with poorly designed equipment.
Tuesday: Wherein our hero, now possessed of duplication, faces herculean tasks as the companies legal department request huge tests of his skills by massive folders. Our hero gains the power of scanning and emailing and adds a stapler to his utility harness. Also a trial by flesh is taken as our hero welds enormous scissors in a most unsafe manner, and badly punctures his left hand, causing great bleeding and discomfort.
Wednesday: Having recovered from his non fatal qounds of the day before our hero continues his efforts. Learning the respective skills of sure and wire binding, he binds increasingly large documents. He also faces A0 dupilcation and survives, folding like a greek god.
Thursday: This is the day that our young hero learns the greatest lesson of all. The skill of watching the desk, after which large portions of the day become devoted to sitting and serving the more attractive damsels in distress.
now thats superheroic.
What challenges await him tomorrow and possibly next week if they still need someone when stuart goes to work in the mailroom because they are short staffed to? ONLY TIME WILL TELL.
Also, in actual news i got a haircut. Shazam!
Bearing in mind that saying i look like David Tennent or John Barrowman will illicit cries of anger and disgust from their respective lady followers, who will claim me far less attractive and damage my streads of self-esteem, i instead have decided i look like Ricky Martin.
my hair's sorta short and spikey.
it's good, don't worry.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Possibly the last Bristol post
Well i leave for good tomorrow, carrying a bag i can comfortably fit inside, on a train route that i've never taken, through unknown stations.
Assuming i make it to Leamington without getting lost or collapsing with fatigue, i will return to Southam and that'll be the end of living in Bristol.
It's kinda sad, but i moved most of my stuff (TV and the majority of my DVDS) back last weekend, then returned to Bristol to hang around with people, so leaving wont be too bad - I need a TV.
I log on to facebook and it tells me (sometimes and always randomly) when people write on each others walls. Someone from home was wishing someone else a Happy Birthday and i genuinely thought "You crazy boy, it's not her birthday till the 18th" then looking at the clock i realise it is the 18th an i begin to realise just how much i need TV, just to keep my internal clock functioning.
I don't have a problem. I managed to not watch TV for many days (i dont know the exact number because i wasnt watching TV) the thing that may count as a problem is my DVDs. I didnt bring a TV back, but i brought some DVDs just incase someone else had a TV and wanted to watch some of the films. Im a sick man. :(
It took a few days to realise just how daft it was to have all those DVDS with no player, but then it's not the dumbest thing i managed. I had absolutely no (obvious) way of playing CDs either, but seeing that Bon Jovi have a new album i absolutely had to get it. Fortunatly I have mad resoursefulness skilz so i have found many ways to play it, other than the sencible CD => CD player route. Curiously for a summery CD, every time i play the album it starts raining.
As long as it stays dry tomorrow though i'll be back in Southam safe and sound. If it rains i'll be home with a soggy bag, damp belonging's and an over powering smell of wet dog. Still home will be nice.
Top 5 things I'm looking forward to (but out of order to not upset anyone):
My TV
My Dogs
My Southam Friends
My Warwick Uni Friends
Easy access to a computer.
There is ton's I'll miss, but i'm sure I will write more about that in later weeks. This is only *possibly* the last Bristol post, if there's one thing i know, it's that i'll never be sure when the last time I'll see somewhere is. I will return (still got some uni to do) and i can't be sure exactly where my life is going next.
So for now;
Bye Bye Bristol,
Bye Bye Bristol Friends.
Assuming i make it to Leamington without getting lost or collapsing with fatigue, i will return to Southam and that'll be the end of living in Bristol.
It's kinda sad, but i moved most of my stuff (TV and the majority of my DVDS) back last weekend, then returned to Bristol to hang around with people, so leaving wont be too bad - I need a TV.
I log on to facebook and it tells me (sometimes and always randomly) when people write on each others walls. Someone from home was wishing someone else a Happy Birthday and i genuinely thought "You crazy boy, it's not her birthday till the 18th" then looking at the clock i realise it is the 18th an i begin to realise just how much i need TV, just to keep my internal clock functioning.
I don't have a problem. I managed to not watch TV for many days (i dont know the exact number because i wasnt watching TV) the thing that may count as a problem is my DVDs. I didnt bring a TV back, but i brought some DVDs just incase someone else had a TV and wanted to watch some of the films. Im a sick man. :(
It took a few days to realise just how daft it was to have all those DVDS with no player, but then it's not the dumbest thing i managed. I had absolutely no (obvious) way of playing CDs either, but seeing that Bon Jovi have a new album i absolutely had to get it. Fortunatly I have mad resoursefulness skilz so i have found many ways to play it, other than the sencible CD => CD player route. Curiously for a summery CD, every time i play the album it starts raining.
As long as it stays dry tomorrow though i'll be back in Southam safe and sound. If it rains i'll be home with a soggy bag, damp belonging's and an over powering smell of wet dog. Still home will be nice.
Top 5 things I'm looking forward to (but out of order to not upset anyone):
My TV
My Dogs
My Southam Friends
My Warwick Uni Friends
Easy access to a computer.
There is ton's I'll miss, but i'm sure I will write more about that in later weeks. This is only *possibly* the last Bristol post, if there's one thing i know, it's that i'll never be sure when the last time I'll see somewhere is. I will return (still got some uni to do) and i can't be sure exactly where my life is going next.
So for now;
Bye Bye Bristol,
Bye Bye Bristol Friends.
Monday, June 11, 2007
On the road again
You know what i'd hate?
A boring life.
Right now i'm absolutly knackered, uncomfortably dehydrated and unsurprisingly in all kinds of unusual pain (is there ever going to be a post of mine that doesnt describe the new and painful things that my body is doing? i sincerly doubt it) but at least i'm entertained.
The last few days have been hectic.
Thursday was the deadline for our projects proposals and deadlines being as fun as always this was cause for a FOURTEEN HOUR LONG WORK SESH. at least i had joana to keep me company. and she spent that long with me without kicking me in the crotch, how delightfully pleasent.
Crawling out of my room on Friday i see it's cloudy and grey (coat on, in to town) but the time i reach town it's gotten so humid, im sweating like a tiny nun in a penguin shooting gallery. major endurance test by dehydration there, but +1 bow and arrow.
Then we had a picnic for Sanna and Hayley's Birthdays! hurrah! no one really dressed up for the fairytale theme, but, i had my bow and arrow and very homemade robin hood hat so at least i looked cool, despite the continuing humidity. naturally we go out in brisol after and end up in la rocca again (yay, coz it's my favourate place - bon jovi? yes please, thank you very much) but getting back late the next morning after games and walking and drinking and picnicing and dancing really tested endurance.
Of course what better time to move my stuff home than the next morning? so after four hours sleep im up for a 9:30 pick up. :( "it hurts." "what hurts?" "legs, arms, neck, back, front, feet." then the usual lack of sympathy from my parentals. "hurumpf."
Then by the afternoon having kipped on the sofa all afternoon to regain some strength, some of the crew decide to go see Pirates of the Caribbean. hmm, i'm in pain, am very sleepy and have seen it twice already... but i do love pirate movies. After watching that i came home to watch the Doctor Who i recorded. and it scared the jeepers outta me. statues that are monsters and that can only get you if you're not looking at them. i stopped blinking or moving my head. being barely strong enough to pull my covers right up to my nose i still managed to peek out my eyes to stop the weeping angels from gettin in. i watched the OC after and was scared when they opened doors suddenly or walked past windows coz the angels could get them.
but i passed out eventually.
then warwick uni to see friends today, back to bristol tomorrow and the zoo the day after.
im not to old for this, im to wimpy. and nothing's going to fix wimpyness quite like hard work and pain. just dont expect me not to complain.
A boring life.
Right now i'm absolutly knackered, uncomfortably dehydrated and unsurprisingly in all kinds of unusual pain (is there ever going to be a post of mine that doesnt describe the new and painful things that my body is doing? i sincerly doubt it) but at least i'm entertained.
The last few days have been hectic.
Thursday was the deadline for our projects proposals and deadlines being as fun as always this was cause for a FOURTEEN HOUR LONG WORK SESH. at least i had joana to keep me company. and she spent that long with me without kicking me in the crotch, how delightfully pleasent.
Crawling out of my room on Friday i see it's cloudy and grey (coat on, in to town) but the time i reach town it's gotten so humid, im sweating like a tiny nun in a penguin shooting gallery. major endurance test by dehydration there, but +1 bow and arrow.
Then we had a picnic for Sanna and Hayley's Birthdays! hurrah! no one really dressed up for the fairytale theme, but, i had my bow and arrow and very homemade robin hood hat so at least i looked cool, despite the continuing humidity. naturally we go out in brisol after and end up in la rocca again (yay, coz it's my favourate place - bon jovi? yes please, thank you very much) but getting back late the next morning after games and walking and drinking and picnicing and dancing really tested endurance.
Of course what better time to move my stuff home than the next morning? so after four hours sleep im up for a 9:30 pick up. :( "it hurts." "what hurts?" "legs, arms, neck, back, front, feet." then the usual lack of sympathy from my parentals. "hurumpf."
Then by the afternoon having kipped on the sofa all afternoon to regain some strength, some of the crew decide to go see Pirates of the Caribbean. hmm, i'm in pain, am very sleepy and have seen it twice already... but i do love pirate movies. After watching that i came home to watch the Doctor Who i recorded. and it scared the jeepers outta me. statues that are monsters and that can only get you if you're not looking at them. i stopped blinking or moving my head. being barely strong enough to pull my covers right up to my nose i still managed to peek out my eyes to stop the weeping angels from gettin in. i watched the OC after and was scared when they opened doors suddenly or walked past windows coz the angels could get them.
but i passed out eventually.
then warwick uni to see friends today, back to bristol tomorrow and the zoo the day after.
im not to old for this, im to wimpy. and nothing's going to fix wimpyness quite like hard work and pain. just dont expect me not to complain.
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