My workbook (for a god-awful OU course) has this wonderful line:

"Reflect on this exploration into the reasons others may have for attempting life writing, or return to the initial list you made [I didn't...I should probably point this out], as we now consider why you might want to practice this craft."

I don't. I have no interest in reading life writing at this time and I have no interest in writing anything other than my ranting nonsense here. Why am I reading this book? Why am I attempting the exercises? Because it's part of the damn course. I don't want to delve into life writing. I don't have reasons to explore.

Job done.

Still it persists.

I should point out that this module is a compulsory part of the course. There was fiction, poetry and now life writing. I should also point out that I hate the whole damn thing. I'm now just doing it for the pass grade and the credits for the bigger picture.

So this shouldn't bother me too much but it does. I don't know why. I think it's the presumption that because you're reading the book you have to want to do everything in it. Or something like that. The truth is, I haven't written anything original in a long long time. I haven't made the time to do it and I don't see myself creating a TARDIS any time soon. I'm beginning to forget how to do it.

No, honest.

Haha. You know, this really isn't worth the irony. I've just had to reload saved draft after disconnecting and this is all I got.

You've got to laugh. I actually am :)




Yeah yeah. It's never all THAT bad. I got it.

Current Mood: amused

And suddenly, I don't feel as though I need to write here just yet.

I love when random pictures do that. There will be something a little later on though.

I realised I had two titles for the last few hours and the decision on which to use didn’t rest on what sounded better but on who I wanted to talk about: Babble or me?

Guess which won.

My baby is a Darlek. The Doctor would not be impressed, but I don’t think even he could resist the cuteness of the blue-eyed-monster rampaging around in his baby walker. Everyone else thinks he looks more like a flying saucer, but he reminds me of the old-style Darleks more. Mostly because he can’t get up stairs.

I won’t be surprised if his first word is ‘elevate’.

Followed by the sight of him hovering and slowly ascending the staircase through some invisible force.

While his favourite toys remain my mobile phone (and apparently it has to be mine because he doesn’t bother with the indestructible Tomb Raider one) and my DS, in the walker he now hunts radiator knobs. It doesn’t really matter whether he can actually steal them from the unsuspecting furniture or not; I believe he’s in it for the thrill of the chase.

Now some people may flag up the point that baby walkers aren’t supposed to be good for your child. I too was of this opinion and wouldn’t generally recommend them. However, you don’t have my baby (lucky you). He commando crawls around, finds something that he can kneel and reach up to and proceeds to drag the rest of him upwards. The baby walker is safer for a few minutes. He can’t walk yet, the cot is higher than his head by a bit and he still manages to catch the top of it and peer over the bars. He’s had more falling over accidents laying on the floor; seriously, this can happen.

I will admit that you need more eyes than a spider, but I think that’s a requisite for parenthood anyway. You also have to have the gift of foresight.

Or just be slightly quick – which is how I manage.

Right, I think I’ve done my duty for babblehood for the moment. Onto the next issue.

Yes, that’s right! It’s Saturday February 14th! Valentine’s Da- Six Nations day!

Hmm. I’m not complaining. I’m enjoying. The other half has run away to the pub for the weekend. I kid you not, I don’t expect to see him until Monday. He’s gone away until Sunday night and I’m going up to Scrum V Sunday night. I think I got the better half of the deal, to be honest. I will only have to pay for one night’s worth of alcohol.

While it really does matter who’ll win (I’m writing this as Wales lead 17-8 so I’m still hedging my bets) I won’t blame a bad Valentine’s Day on the rugby or the lack of the other half.

I shall blame it on GT-5.

Or the lack of it.

Current Mood: cheerful

Number One:

Because they enjoy it. Seriously. Stand back, catch the ball and gaze in wonder at the wide open field in front of you - it's a dream come true.

SPACE! OODLES AND OODLES OF SPACE!

Number Two:

Because you now have to cover both wings and full back. I'm not that fit. I can get there, but I'm not going to be able to stop the forward that's running towards me because I'm a) a tiny, tiny winger and b) knackered from running the width and length of the pitch. I can shove them into touch, but it's a long shot.

Number Three:

Because wingers such as myself start thinking in live action Samurai Warriors mode and get really shouty about where they want their troops. This should probably be put with number one, above, as I enjoy it so much.

We lost the game when we shouldn't have, though. One the one hand, many things went against us but on the other hand, perhaps we really did deserve to loose. We got niggled by a whinging team and an appalling ref but we took every inch of the bait. We let everything get to us as a team and it was stupid.

Thing is, I don't think we'll learn too much from it.

But I may be surprised... I have been in the past.

Tags: rugby
Current Mood: productive

Shit, almost forgot



^___________^



Named him Tristan after all.

Apparently I could resist Damon Hill.

Jesus God (Sorry, God)

It's been a little while. I've been reading over the past entries and it doesn't feel like me who did any of that. Screw me sideways, but I remember going out! I remember drinking and watching matches and, sod it, eating in gorgeous restaurants while getting thoroughly smashed on red wine that someone else ordered.

Which reminds me: why do people say to me that I should try the wine? Not the waiters, but the people at my table? It has one purpose for me; I don't care what the hell it tastes like as long as it's wet. There are only two different wines for me and I very much follow the idea proposed by Dylan Moran; there's the wine you sip and think 'mmm, that's quite nice. We'll take eight bottles of that.' or there's the one where you say 'gyack hack ack Jesus!' And I'd still drink it if it were at the table.

I should point out that I am not good with wine. No matter how bad it tastes, I always find it a little moreish. Well very really. I will not, however, get so lampshaded (thank you, Micheal Macintyre) as to think that I am King Of The World and you must all bow down. No. Never.

Anyway.

Dear LiveJorunal,

I am enjoying. Weather is good - it is December, after all. Arrived safely, having a good time and will see you soon.

Hugs & Kisses from Sorento.

¿Donde?: Home Mk II
Current Mood: content

Falling off the floor is not as difficult as it sounds.

Neither is it as painless. There was a nice 'pop' and a lot of 'ow'ing. Not a bruise though. Managing to twist your ankle without a bruise (though in fairness, an awful lot of swelling...and swearing) has to account for something more than a few days of not driving.

Which incidentally, I hate. I don't like being in the backs of cars trying to sleep just so that I don't get car sick. I don't like being bored and not being able to do anything because it tends to make me feel ill. I am, in fact, a child when it comes to traveling. I do like doing the driving myself though.



Ooh, and now that I know sprog is a boy (and apparently a football obsessed, very good at kicking one - though he quietens down at half time) I get to name him. While it could be considered mean to name a child Damon just because his surname will be Hill, tell me: if you were about to have a child with the surname Bond, would you be able to resist calling it James?


Nah. Neither would I.

This is mostly a one person rant but I suppose also a rant on general manners and that what-not. 

Yeah. That's the introduction done and now that I really want to scream at someone, I can't think of what I want to write. I really really fucking hate drunk knobhead tossers who pretend to have even an ounce of sense and sit with us (it should be noted here that these are really not my friends and a pair of fruit & nuts we went to watch football with) only to cry or shout loudly and rather pissheadidly about communism and the lack of credibility it has. 

Don't get me wrong, piss head socialism does generally piss me off, but when you're shouting in a pub about it all being wrong and not having the awareness to realise that you're talking over the fucking TV, it takes all the wonderful capitalist cake that it's short little life can take. 

I can only hope that unconsciousness ensues and my night will be justified. 

Really just should have let the pratt get barred when he was getting served. 


Get drunk, act like a fucktard, but have the link to reality that tells you if you really can't handle any more, don't fucking drink it and sit crying and shouting in public.


Yeah. And now that I don't have the paid account (a temporary thing, I know) I don't have an icon that is angry enough.

Ooh, the people around us have moved. I am so grateful to them.

Current Mood: pissed off

Things are getting slightly easier. 

Mini-sausage rolls are going a long way towards that. I like puff pastry generally, I think. I don't think that I could survive on it, but it does make food a much nicer prospect. I've eaten more fruit in the past month than I think I ever have or probably will again and as I'm not really in the mood for mayonnaise, ketchup has entered the competition. 

Anyways, away from food...

I know that I am the greatest annoyance for doing this myself, but when asked 'what would you like for Christmas?' why can't people just say? I generally have a vague idea of what books I would like to have and I've always tried to push for that crystal making set (I just like pretty colours. Me=magpie) but why... ah never mind. While lists are generally my specialty, I really do cringe when it comes to Christmas. 

I just want to get something that someone else will enjoy and my imagination suddenly dies or goes into hibernation. 

And I am absolutely NOT buying anyone any bath packs or candle sets.

Funny thing is, we (Plum. I ) went shopping a few days ago with the purest of intents. We thought we'd have a look around and see whether there was anything that caught our eyes.

And ended up buying more things for us than anyone else.



And as GT:HD isn't out anywhere near Christmas this year (and probably not in time for next year either), I now have to re-think what I want to get him. 

I was thinking along the lines of a blow-up doll... can't go wrong, can it?





*pop*

Tags: christmas
Current Mood: apathetic

Well this is good. 

This is great.

I don't know which to begin with first.


1. I CAN sleep on my back while pregnant - Joy.
2. Rose Tyler is back for series 4! - Possibly even more joy
3. My house is getting slightly cleaner - okay news, but Rose is winning so far

Well yeah, good news all round really. Now if only this damn sicky feeling would run away and hide, I would be happier. 

I am liking carrot sticks at the moment (though Tescos and ASDA are valiantly marketing them as 'batons' - yeah cheerlead with those Miss. Bennet). They're good for me but I'm beginning to worry that I might give birth to an orange-carrot-looking baby... or one with excellent eyesight. 

I personally think that I have a white Mr. Hamilton. It doesn't feel so unhappy as soon as the key is in the ignition and it really likes The Killers. 



My God. I've become 'ooohh. Look at the baby' woman.

Tags: loris or aurora
¿Donde?: Somewhere where there are no carrot sticks
Current Mood: content