O2 Y U no luv me?

I like to think of myself as a moderately social person. In my younger days you could often see me languishing about clubs in the early hours of the morning, surrounded by many a chum. My social activities at present are rather more tame, but get out and see people I do. When I don't feel like seeing people, I do what any respectable person would. Retreat to the sofa and watch TV until my eyes bleed.

Sometimes however, there is an incongruity between what I want to do and what my friends feel like doing. I would like to do something, and they would like to do nothing. This is a period of high personal vulnerability. Bearing in mind I also have literally no initiative when it comes to organising my social activities and tend to just wait for people to contact me. It's at THIS precise moment, when I'm sitting along in my house, waiting for my phone to do something, that this then occurs.

A FRIEND!!!!!!!!

 I scuttle over to my phone, imagining all the fun I am going to have with my as yet unspecified friend.

Enjoy a salad

Watch a movie

Partake in healthy, outdoor pursuits

Laugh at your friend's really old phone

Then I realise who wants to talk to me.

I don't know HOW O2 knows how I'm feeling like this, but they always do. Because of the already sad feelings brewing inside me, the blow is is particularly crushing. The pièce de résistance occurs when the offending text is informing me that I am out of calling credit. It's like O2 is saying to me 

'Not only are you a loner, you're broke as fuck too. Have a nice day :D' 

Motherfuckers. 

Over Education

Human beings have a natural academic limit, and I have definitely reached the end of mine. Three and a half years of university is more than enough and studying is no longer enjoyable or exciting. You know what sunlight looks like? Because I don't. I've transformed into one of those creatures from the Descent. All blind and pale and covered in mucus. The fact that I am no longer having fun is not the main issue I take with realising I've bitten off more than I can chew. There is a far more dangerous consequence to my decisions.  

It is my belief that all people have a natural capacity for knowledge retention after which no more information can fit into their brain. What happens when new information is presented to the affected person? Something else, something important, gets pushed out.

At first it starts  with the names of acquaintances, or Professors you don't see all that often. After that it moves onto general social skills and the ability to converse with people outside you particular area  of expertise. Finally most of the basic functionality leaves your system, and your motor neuron ability begins to fail. In three short years you go from this:

To this: 

Most people would agree that this is the OPPOSITE of what you want from an advanced education, however it's incredibly easy to overdo it. Your brain just overloads. The sad thing is, that when I'm in a grown up job with taxes and two weeks holiday a year, I'll really miss this.

 Until then though, Fuck You Uni Work. 

The Ballad of Jack and Ennis

This a faithful recounting of the most beautiful love I have ever witnessed. And it's devastating effects upon my neighbourhood.

In my second year of University, I lived in a two up two down student house that was built by the landlord, which all in all, didn't have a lot going for it:

The main redeeming feature was a large garden with table and chairs, and in the Summer Term of my tenancy, the garden was frequented by two cats. They were never seen without each other, and there was a pained aura to their relationship which  lead my house mates and I to believe they were living a secret. We decided they were gay and called them Jack and Ennis.

Many a day I'd see them cavorting round our garden, engaging in whatever activities gay cats who live in secret do. Hopping from fence to fence and wandering into our house whenever we left the back door open. It was cute.

However, one day the relationship took a dramatic turn. Jack went missing. And Ennis started to Meow.

At first it was sweet, though tinged with sadness. Ennis would walk around our gardens and the gardens that backed on calling for Jack. Always calling. We all felt sorry for Ennis. He'd finally found love, only to have it cruelly ripped away by the hands of fate (we never DID find out what happened to Jack).

After a couple of weeks though, our sympathy started to wane. It wasn't like the meowing was occasional, it was CONSTANT. On top of this, the Summer exams were coming up and we were all on edge. my bedroom backed onto the garden and the majority of  Ennis' pained outbursts occurred right outside my window. People turned up at our door assuming that the cats were ours. This just compounded my resentment towards Ennis. All sympathy for his plight had completely evaporated and his constant noise was beginning to wear away my sanity.

The lowest point was nightime. Ennis would come into our garden (we presumed that was the spot were Jack evaporated). And meow outside my window. The cat had a vendetta against me. He probably thought   I killed Jack and made him into stew. He woke me up, stopped me going to sleep, and acted as a handy alarm clock if you wanted to get up at 5:30 every morning. I had had a very stressful few months, and had been looking exceedingly forward to spending a couple of days relaxing before I went on a five week field trip to northern Scotland. Ennis wasn't having any of that though.

Around this point, I started to plot against the cat. I won't go into the details of what I was planning, but it would not have been pleasant for Ennis. Fortunately for him though, cats are fast and I am slow, not none of my ideas ever came to fruition. Around this time as well, I heard one of my neighbours down the street yelling demented profanities at  Ennis. He sounded like a broken man. It comforted me to know that I was not alone.


Eventually one day I cracked. It was 7:30 in the morning, and I had been out the night before. Ennis decided  that I needed to know more about his plight, and began to meow. I flipped. I opened my window and screamed like a banshee.

I don't think I've ever lost control like that before or since. I ran out into the garden, but Ennis has the presence of mind to bolt before I could grab him. I sat on one of the garden chairs and thought I was going to cry. I had been out manoeuvred by a cat.

Eventually Ennis stopped frequenting our garden and meowing outside my window, and the murderous rage inside me started to ebb.The sun came out and I got some sleep. We all began to heal.

Next year I moved house and never saw Ennis again. I sometimes wonder what happened to him, but like so many individuals who have a brief but profound impact on you, he has sailed out my life forever. This is the only time in my life I had seen what I knew to be genuine true love; and it almost killed us all. I hope I never feel the way I felt for Ennis about anything again, but that remains to be seen. I live at the back of the house this year too, and there is a very conversational dog nearby.........

HIT

Adulthood.

                                                        This is how I feel about it