Foamy Fun

Today, I have been to a foam party.

It was so soapy, sweaty, smelly, soggy, snowy, silly, steamy, swampy, slippy, sticky, squelchy.

I surived - soaked to the skin, but still smiling. Surprising.

On the jukebox: Wet Wet Wet ~ Love Is All Around - Classic

Crime Watch

Today, I have witnessed a shoplifting incident.

I saw him do it. I saw him take it off the shelf, eyes darting about the place, watching to see if anyone was looking; if anyone would notice; if anyone would care. I saw him holding it out of view. He looked at me. I gave him a dirty look. I saw him take it, hide it and leave. I saw this all. I didn't do anything about it.

I am a bad citizen.

Alright, so it was worth less than a pound. Alright, so it was a only bottle of coke. Alright, so it was at a small open-plan chain-name bakery store with no doors and he probably would have been off on his bike before I even had the chance to pluck up the courage to mention it to someone, anyone. Alright, so I was only passing, I had no time to stop and consider. Alright, so these are unexcusable excuses. I should have done something, told someone, I'm sure. But I let it slide. I had hands full of shopping, a tired mind and heavy heart and if I'm honest, I couldn't be bothered with the hassle. So I let him get away with it.

I witnessed a crime. I let him get away with it.

What would you have done?

On the jukebox: Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds ~ People Ain't No Good

Promiscuous Girl

Today, I have been immersed in immorality.

I'm pretty sure, that somewhere, there are people who can have monagomous long term relationships. There have been instances I've come across where long distance doesn't mean "treat as if single". I know, despite clear evidence to the contrary, that for some girls, loyalty and respect is important in their close friendships with other girls. I'm pretty sure that somewhere, these people do exist.

However, if there does exist such concepts, it sure as hell don't seem the case from where I'm sitting. There is a huge chasm between what I experience in surrounding situations and what I believe to be acceptable behavior.

slut n. A person, especially a woman, considered sexually promiscuous.

That seems to be quite true description of character for some people I know. However, the same people would take offence at being labelled as such.

Perhaps it isn't fair to be so blunt. Perhaps, it is hurtful. But the truth hurts, I know so. Perhaps, if one had been on the receiving end of infidelity, one would not be so blasé about continually cheating on one's partner. Perhaps, if one had ever had real friends, one would not be so blasé about screwing them over for a quick screw.

Oh, I despair at the state of society.

On the jukebox: Joe Dolce ~ Shaddap You Face

Poker Pal

Today, I have been poked.

Properly poked, that is, not electronically poked. I have also been grabbed, pinched, held and touched.

Don't touch me please,
I cannot stand the way you tease.

There's a level of familiarity that people allow among each other, social normality dictates many of these rules - if, for example, you don't know a person very well, you probably wouldn't touch their backside intentionally (alcohol-induced interactions aside.) Within close friends, obviously the idea of acceptability is altered to fit in with the unwritten yet universally understood code of conduct that governs relationships between people. We know we don't do that, but this is permitted, because we've evolved our relationship to such a point that we're both comfortable with it.

It makes me feel awkward, and I find it awfully annoying when certain people have little concept of personal space, or are unable to judge acceptable boundaries.

It's not always easy to know where the mark is, but generally most people recognise when they overstep it. Subtle signals in body language; an immediate recoil at unexpectedly intimate contact is usually enough to make most people see where to stop. The inability to interpret these almost imperceptible responses is a small sign of slight social retardation and when it comes down to it, it's probably part of the reason one might find it hard to form meaningful relationships with people.

On the jukebox: Garbage ~ I Think I'm Paranoid

Constant Confusion

Today, I have searched for The Answer.

Where do we find contentment?

I don't know.

On the jukebox: Orchestral Manoeuvers in the Dark ~ Joan of Arc

Melancholy Melodies

Today, I have felt before I thought.

It's incredible how the mind subconsciously makes connections that somehow bypass the brain and settle somewhere in the lower torso region. A yawning, aching sense that makes one long for what there used to be; a gap that is missing something which can't be found; a feeling that can't quite be placed or rationalised. I enjoy listening to music; I can appreciate music; I am affected by music, but some albums really hit me, hard, sometimes unexpectedly.

There are particular songs that these days, I can't listen to it without feeling like I'm being repeatedly punched in the chest while similtaneously being kneed in the stomach. It's a shame, especially if it's actually a really good album, unfortunately permanently branded with the memories of that time in my life. It sounds stupid and overemphatic, and it's only a few tunes that do have an real physical effect in that sense, brought on soley by the conditional reflex effect of the connection to the album, rather than simply an enhancement of what I may be feeling at that moment in time. Indeed, the songs themselves may be cheery, but even if I'm in a good mood, to listen to the music will inevitably and uncontrollably make me feel really uncomfortable.

Nostalgic pains of this kind often pass with time or if I turn off the stereo. Just like any kind of low feeling, it ebbs and flows, comes and goes. But right now, allowing myself to become absorbed in the melancholy melodies, fateful decisions and wistful reminiscence, it hurts. It really hurts.

On the jukebox: The Feeling ~ Strange

Ear Lender

Today, I have ticked the listening box.

I enjoy reading other people's blogs, I do always read the ones of people who comment here and there and more or less. But I don't always have much to say in addition to a subject that has been so succintly expressed in a blog entry of its own merit that to taint with my menial mutterings would be futile and unnecessary.

On the other side of the story, it may transpire that an entry sparks such an interest as to inspire me to construct my own creation on a similar theme, rather than clutter up the comment box with long and irrelevant references or opinions. Might as well publish them on my blog instead, point out my opinions, my views, my stance on things to the wider world web, y'all care greatly about what I think, I'm sure.

Sometimes, I wish there was a function on these blogspot type things for people to show they're listening. A nod of the head is well enough face to face; an 'mm, yeah, I understand' on the phone; kudos given on myspace; positive applause added for approval on a forum. But the only way to prove you've been here & heard that, is to leave a comment.

Truth is, there's not always much to add. Especially with multiple blog entries per day. Blogspots don't lend themselves easily to conversation or further discussion. There's not always much need for a response. While I know it will still get read, there's still a part of me that wants the concrete acknowledgement.

A display of confirmation that I've been heard is the main reason why I think a listening box would be a good plan, or something similar, along the lines of:

4 readers have listened to this entry.
3 readers have agreed with this entry.
2 readers have found this entry interesting.
1 reader has found this entry a complete waste of pixels.

You visit, you listen, you tick or nod or smile just to leave your mark, make us feel like we're not alone. Maybe if I could speak computer, I could coax a snazzy function like this out of webcode, alas, I am useless, so for now, there is no option but to stick with what's avaliable. And hope that people can find it in their hearts to continue to comment...

On the jukebox: Alice Deejay ~ Better Off Alone

Moaning Groaner

Today, I have had to deal with more crap than any of you.

If you've had a bad day, I've had it worse. If you're having troubles, mine are more important. If you had issues with your housemates, I have them more frequently and severely. You don't know how lucky you have it, clearly.

Or at least that's what it seems like is being conveyed to me, all the time. Usually, I'm quite sympathetic. I listen, and I listen and I listen some more:

"You are good at something: you're good at listening to me moan"
"Thanks, I'll put it on my CV"

But there comes a point, when I think, well actually, not only do you have it pretty good - and I'm not saying I'm any worse off - but also, hey, just because you think your life is worse than mine doesn't mean I don't have problems, too. You are not the only person to have ever felt down, inexplicably- and I do understand what you mean - some people are just better at hiding or dealing with it.

Oh the irony of me moaning about someone moaning. I appreciate, everyone needs someone to listen, but when it's the same sodding problems, all the goshdang time... *sigh*

It's really highlighted when I talk to someone who doesn't focus on themselves all the time. A person, who I know has far more devastating issues than myself, will still stretch to sound concerned if ever I try to divulge my minor upsets. Someone who asks questions, who comforts, who reassures. I like one way streets, sometimes, I like to learn more about people, places, stories. But it's nice for people to show interest in me, too.

Although, I think sometimes I expect too much of some people.

On the jukebox: Soft Cell ~ Tainted Love

Chemistry Geek

Today, I have been a nerd.

That's what chemistry is about. Honestly, no-one who is cool, hip and happenin' reads such a subject as a degree. Looking around the lecture theatre, it's obvious how true that is. We're all geeks, or nerds, whatever - I'm not really sure what the distinction is - but if you came to hang with the in-crowd, chemists wouldn't be it.

We're no social misfits, by any means, and that's what I like about it. Never would I be one to generalise (...) but overall, it appears we as a species of student are overwhelmingly...Ordinary? Normal? No, no, that's not it - we're all individuals and weird in our own ways, but what strikes me about chemistry people, I suppose, is how geniune people come across as, how easy it is to get along with just about anyone. No-one's 'above' anyone else, or too important to talk to the likes of you. We have our separate friendships groups, but there's always a place to sit next to someone or people with whom to have a conversation. I know people who, despite having studied at university for a year and a half, could not call any of their coursemates their friends. Yet, having spent the most part of every weekday with my colleagues, I've made many good mates, there have been some amusing moments, some downright hysterical. In-jokes based on our subject can often raise a smile, no matter how lame they are.

It's a little chemistry crew, all helping each other out, plagurism abound, because as long as it's the correct answer, it doesn't matter where you got it from as the correct answer is absolute and not subjective. It's so much easier to get to know people better this way, make new friends, if all other conversation fails, just ask how the reaction's going...

If you like a lotta science on your brainbox, join our club.

On the jukebox: High School Musical ~ We're All In This Together

Square Eyes

Today, I have stared at a screen.

It's unavoidable. Computer. Television. Mobile Phone. Music Player. Digital Camera. Powerpoint Presentation Projection. Almost every part of my life involves looking at a bright electronic screen. Even the parts of my life that used to be limited to simple old-style "black and white" screen - you know, like the first mobile phones, and ancient mp3 players - are now brilliantly white and colourful shining, filling the room. It's annoying, when I just want to rest my eyes for a while, I can't even listen to music without the light loudly announcing it's presence.

Similarly, lectures. What happened to the good old whiteboard? It is more convienient and clearer to have the notes on powerpoint, I know, but it adds another screen to cope with, a further strain on the eyes, all the time.

Then there's this talk of electronic books. Now, I don't find much time (or money) to buy newspapers these days, I've already succumbed to the internet for that information. But books? Part of the joy of reading is the physical flick of the page, being able to get lost in the story, the words, forgetting that you're in possession of a tangible object and allowing the imagination to take over. The concept of electronic books, where you download your novels to an object the size of an iPod, seems to siphon much of the joy out of reading, I feel. Just because the technology is possible, doesn't mean it is necessary. Reading is about the one thing I can take solo pleasure in that doesn't involve staring at a screen, I'd like to keep it that way. A break from the constant bombardment of electrons to the eyes. (Don't quote me on this, I don't actually know how the screens work in any sense.)

Having said that, given that I spend most of my spare time glued to the computer with little purpose, I suppose I don't do myself many favours.

On the jukebox: Kelly Clarkson ~ Behind These Hazel Eyes

Colour Co-ordination

Today, I have been topically themed.

I like Valentine's Day. It gives me an excuse to dress appropriately for the special occasion...

Appropriately for a seven-year-old, that is, of course.

On the jukebox: Kylie Minogue ~ I Should Be So Lucky

Spring Zing

Today, I have seen the beginnings of Springings.

Spring is sprung,
De grass is riz,
I wonder where dem birdies is?
De little birds is on de wing,
Ain’t dat absurd?
De little wing is on de bird!

Lighter days...Warmer days...Happier days...

There are only four seasons, so as much as you'd like to be, you can never be unique in your preference (though considering I have about four readers, maybe you could be the odd one out...)
Here comes the thought-provoking thought process - what's your favourite season? I say Spring. The sense of a fresh start, spring clean of old thoughts, perhaps?

Winter can be hugely depressing. Summer seems like a snatch of warm weather that is always built up to be more enjoyable with more expectations than ever transpire. Autumn is the start of a new academic year and while I love the leaves and trees, it is a reminder that Winter is around the corner.

Spring, spring brings hope. Spring starts the lingering sunny days: a subtle suggestion that, hey, maybe life aint so bad after all; a little anticipation that hey, maybe things will turn out alright...

On the jukebox: The Beatles ~ Here Comes The Sun

Wishful Waster

Today, I have played with poppers.

"Warning: iso-amyl nitrite is a potent heart stimulant - avoid inhalation of the vapour."

It was only after reading this article that I realised that the chemical used in the reaction I carried out today is identical to that used in poppers. Pfft, who needs to go out to experience the student life? I can get all the sex, drugs and rock & roll I need in the laboratory...

Who ever said chemistry was rubbish, eh?! ;o)

On the jukebox: Radiohead ~ High and Dry

Great Grades

Today, I have been defined by numbers.

It happens every day, always. The only proof people have of worth is percentages on a sheet of paper; the only way to instantly judge a person's intelligence without knowing them. Opinions can be biased, subjective - intuition can be misjudged.

Numbers are never wrong. They always tell the truth, right? Not so. Perhaps it's true that "you know more than you think you do", if that's the case, how come it is so easy to still feel so incapable?

Perhaps I set my standards too high. That, in essence is what it comes down to - I expect the best. I expect to be able to achieve everything at the highest standard. I expect to be able to win every time, if only I tried a little harder. Disappointment sets in if this aim is not achieved, because I know, I know, always I could do better. This is so very true. Perfectionism seeps so readily into so many aspects of my life.

This somewhat hinders my ability to function normally in society, due to the fact that as a general rule: nobody's perfect. There are no exceptions, only expectations. There is no escape, there is never satisfaction. A constant sense of inadequacy sits within me, with an impossible aim and irrational beliefs, the desire for perfection is never-ending while similtaneously being never achievable.

It's not an advisable way to live your life.

On the jukebox: Alanis Morrisette ~ Perfect

Manic Monday

Today, I have made a bad start.

Woke Up Late (Should Have Gone To Bed Earlier)
No Time To Wash/Dry Hair.
Cold Day. No Coat.
Cold Day. BOILING Lecture Theatre.
3 x "Heard about you & PhD..." Grr @ Rumour Mill
Forgot Lunch.
Forgot Purse.
Hadn't Printed off Worksheet.
No Printer Credits.
No Money (See above)
Forgot Lab Book (= "PhD will do it with you" teasing encore)
Forgot Safety Glasses + Padlock.
Get Bus (+ 50 Yard Dash)
Get Home.
NO LAB BOOK. ANYWHERE.
Lost All Work Of Past Three Weeks?! Possibly?!
FUCK.

Messy Room.
Messy Face.
Greasy Hair.
Broken 'Love/Peace" Keyring. Prophetic.
No House.
Want To Curl Up And Cry.

Have To Go Back.
Damn.

On the jukebox: Queen ~ The Show Must Go On

Pretty Patterns

Today, I have played with Komputational Kaleidoscopes.

From Enormous Eye:

To Perfect Petals:

Sunday Evening = Goodbye Respite; Hello Hell.

On the jukebox: The Verve ~ Drugs Don't Work

Sunny Smiles

Today, I have let the sun shine in.

Another of English customs (cf. hannah's blog of 'The Queue') is The Weather Conversation. This happens among strangers and friends alike; shop assistants and customers; colleagues and classmates.

"It's a nice day today, isn't it"

We know it's a nice day. We can all observe that individually. We know this, and yet, inevitably, we will find ourselves remarking on it to someone at some point during the day.

It makes me smile inside. I heard this standard comment at least 3 times today, in addition to participating in one such exchange. A sunny day allows the troubles to float away, or at least to the side for a little while.

Sunshine on the window
makes me happy
like I should be

On the jukebox: Milk & Sugar ~ Let The Sun Shine

Photo Flicker

Today, I have clicked through photographs.

Isn't the internet a wonderful invention? You take a photo, upload it and within literally a few seconds, it can be screened to anyone across the world.

Of course, that doesn't mean you should do that with every picture you take. Digital cameras are fantastic - duff shots can be instantly deleted. Disappointment at not getting the perfect pose is rapidly diffused with the knowledge that you can immediately rectify the situation, and take another one, or another 7894 or so.

People were always so much more cautious with film cameras. A photo actually meant something, no flippant taking of anything all the time. Now, despite the clear advantage of being able to delete rubbish pictures, few tend take advantage of it. Many people appear to be quite vain creatures, and while unwilling to have a photo that shows them in a slightly less than favourable light, will be willing to forgo that possibility for the chance that they could have 12 more than might be just perfect.

For me, photos should be connected to memories, not be the memories themselves. Understandably, if it's a one off occasion: a birthday; a themed night; a party of old friends; it's nice to have photos as a reminder of happy times. However, scores of photos of a usual night on the town, when these events aren't exactly irregular occurances just seems fairly futile. Sure, the people who feature may be interested to see their own smiling faces x 202, but otherwise - why would you want to look at the same people pulling the same mundane poses. It serves to show nothing but "oh, you were drunk, again"

I prefer to capture the moments that mean something - snap the odd exchange with the perfect expression, people caught unawares in a way that totally demonstrates the essence of the interaction. Endless perfect poses are boring to take and to look through, the only reason to show them to the world is to show your face to the world, make you feel like you're important to other people.

Indeed, I do like nosing through photos and as the cliché goes - a picture tells a thousand words. But I do wish people would be more selective in deciding which ones to display; showcasing only the particulary decent ones, and not every misaligned click of the camera.

On the jukebox: Babybird ~ You're Gorgeous

Double Dilemma

Today, I have been dilemma filled.

This time: housing issues. It’s already a week into February, and we haven’t yet sorted a house for next year. I know, I know, it’ll turn out alright eventually, but I’m a chronic worrier, and this has been preying on my mind since the start of term.

There’s six of us currently looking. I only really get on with one of them, but I am absolutely terrified of (a) not having a place to live, and (b) not having people to live with. So I go with the easy option, which while is less than the best, at least I know once we find a place, we’re sorted.

Intertwined with the whole housing thang is the fact that one of my chemchums (we’re not particulary close, but I’ve got to know her a bit better this year) has had a bit of a housing crisis in that two of the people she’s currently living with won’t be with them next year, so they’re stuck with only two of them left, and that’s not a great situation to be in.

She proposed to me today a suggestion that I could consider perhaps joining them? Either on my own as a three or with one of my current housemates, so effectively splitting as two fours. This seems like a plausible idea – chemchum is nice enough, and though I’ve never met her housemate, I’m sure we’d get along fine. The only thing is the whole being with chemistry person 24/7, I don’t know how that would work. I don’t really want to live in a house with two virtual strangers, but I was thinking I could consider asking my current housemate who I do get on with. Searching for two fours would probably be easier than searching for a six, especially when you take into account the desire for double beds. But I’m not sure if I do want to do that.

I’m not sure what the current situation is with six house because nobody talks about it, and I'm wary of bringing it up in conversation because I know I don't really want to have the awkward discussion about it anyway.

I don’t know what to do, and I don’t really want to suggest anything to the others until I’ve talked to my housemate, I don’t want them to feel like they’re left in the lurch. I don’t know what to do, and it’s been doing my head in since my chemchum mentioned the proposal. The hassle-free friendship way would be to stick with six – but would I be happy with four? Or even three? But I don’t want to lose contact completely with the others. Oh, I don’t know.

I know they're not major problems, and in six months or so all will be sorted and neither issue will really matter so much. But I don't feel like I have anyone I can really talk to since two of the people I usually would are directly involved, and a couple of the others are too far away for a proper conversation to be audible or feasible. So I'm stuck, typing it all over rather than speaking it out, hoping that this way at least there's some sort of release?

On the jukebox: Vanessa Carlton ~ White Houses

Dilute Dilemma

Today, I have had dilemical decisions to make.

The department offers a limited number of spaces up for lab placements over the summer – one student per supervisor. Six to eight weeks, fairly respectable pay, experience working in an area relevant to the degree, looks amazing on CV etc, etc.

Currently, I hate lab work, therefore I had no intention of applying, despite the obvious benefits. My friend applied for one of these places. She didn’t get it (even though her grades are exceptional). As for me, when they emailed ‘round everyone informing of this opportunity, I wasn’t bothered – I know I don’t like labs, and the thought of waking up each day to do lab all day, even if I were getting paid for it, filled me with dread. The thing is, I know I’m not that bad at chemistry, I know I could do it, probably, if I had a little more confidence in myself, and put a little more effort. And you know, £1000 or so could be quite handy. But the deadline is fast approaching, and I knew I wouldn’t go for it.

Today, I got an email from one of the supervisors specifically addressed to me, asking if I was already applying for a placement or would be interested in applying with him?

Now, here, flattery takes a hold of me. I know I didn’t want to do it, but he especially asked me, I’ve been to him for feedback several times, he knows who I am, I generally turn out good on paper and I put across a personable first impression. Of course, he’s never actually seen me in the lab so is unaware of the utter nervous negative wreck I am, but still, he chose to ask me to work with him!?

There’s a part of me that feels I should at least find out more about it; there’s a part of me that although it’s a compliment, I still wouldn’t be comfortable with being responsible for doing lab work every day all day and with the expectation to know what I’m doing; there’s a part of me that feels, hey, my friend applied for this first, hey she actually wanted to do it, hey maybe I should tell her about it before I think about it myself.

I’m not sure which part of me is winning out – I don’t know what to do, should I really be throwing away this opportunity without a second glance? Should I really apply to him myself when it's obvious my friend actually wants to do it, wouldn't that be a bit unfair?

This has been screwing with my head along with everything else.

Please help, blog squad!?

On the jukebox: t.A.T.u ~ All The Things She Said

Carb Craving

Today, I have been Miss Potato Head.

Curb your curiosity, this is what the girl herself looks like:

I'm almost too cool to function.

On the jukebox: Britney Spears ~ Sometimes

Laboratory Laughter

Today, I have had a small snapshot of relief.

Lab wasn't a completely terribly awful disaster! (Mainly because demonstrator dude practically did my whole experiment himself...) Successfully managed to fit it a few laughs along the way, too:

"ye, cos I is from da ghetto, innit"

"The only reason they do everything for her is cos she gives 'em head"

"I know I'm just going to fuck it up again"
"well, you are the lab fucker, eh!?"

Ta, sweetie, said that a little too loudly, eh?!

Smiles in adversity. I don't do sex for grades. Honest. It's a mere bonus ;o)

On the jukebox: The Beautiful South ~ Song For Whoever

Southern Fairy

Today, I have considered regional issues.

I don't really like northern accents. Maybe that's not something I should be admitting within regionally dispersed company, but since I never hear any of you talk, it shouldn't be an issue. ;o)

Perhaps my problems with the accent lie with the particular people I associate it with. Despite attending university where the majority of students are from the south (or London, basically) the people I live with are mostly northern. I didn't even think about a divide of that kind before I came here, and besides it probably wouldn't have been one of my main considerations in applying for universities.

For most students, going to university is the first time they've truly experienced life outside of the immediate vicinity and they don't always have a real idea of the differences between the life they're used to. Increasingly, I discover stark differences between northern and southern, distinctions that stretch beyond whether it's called a 'cob', a 'roll' or a 'bap'. I can't pretend like some people's accents don't grate a little.

Awfully snobby, I'm sure, for me to put so much emphasis on something so insignificant as a person's pronouciation. I suppose, as a creature of comfort, I like what I'm familiar with. I like talking to people who sound sort of similar to me. I don't like the sound of my own voice anyway, it's even more distinguishable when I talk to people who all have totally different accents to myself.

The general banter and the odd quip can be fun, diversity is healthy and all, and stereotypes are bound to crop up somewhere - it's all jokes, innit? I don't recall ever having played the "superior southerner" card, honestly, I didn't realise it was such a huge deal until I came here. I don't like the feeling of not fitting in; I do tend to find I prefer southerners to northerners. Huge generalisation, I'm sure, but there you go, that's me - shallow, close-minded and offensive. Sorry.

On the jukebox: Oasis ~ Married with Children

Warm Fuzzy

Radiator-heated cosy pyjamas
With washed, clean and fresh hair
Baby-smooth skin and soft lips
In between comfy sheets
Phone call from a special friend
And a film never seen before
(confidently confirmed as good watching)
Equals contentment, for now.

On the jukebox: 3 Doors Down ~ Let Me Go

Friendly Faces

What is this life if, full of stats,
We have no time to sit for chats.

No time to lie beneath the skies
And chat, to listen and advise.

No time to think, when days we pass,
“We must enjoy this while it lasts”

No time to spend a sleepover night
Watch darkness turn then into light

No time to see to friendly faces,
And experience their warm embraces.

No time to wait till laughter brings
An appreciation of simple things.

A poor life this if, full of stats,
We have no time to sit for chats.

/blatant plagurism

On the bookshelf: W. H. Davies ~ Leisure

University Upsets

Today, I have arrived back in my university town.

The way I see it: I have no other options.
If I did, perhaps I wouldn't be here. Uni is what we people do, right?
Only 3 more semesters to go...

...and then what?

On the jukebox: Elton John ~ Tiny Dancer

Disc Dive

Today, I have despaired over the demise of CDs.

Of course, I have a generic digital compact music player, because, hey, who doesn't these days? But I love my CD collection. Admittedly, it's not even particularly vast, but it is ever increasing. Despite the fact that it's far more frugal and facile to download a track from a website, whether it be paid for or illegally obtained for free, that doesn't mean that CDs are dead.

Times are achanging though, no longer do the main generic music stores have the music discs displayed at the front, or even on the bottom floor. Now, it's a trip upstairs, or down to the back to find an obscure album that isn't in the charts or the sale. Now, it's the DVDs that take centre stage, I suppose as its harder and more morally reprehensible to download movies rather than music.

Personally, I prefer to have something tangible in my hand, in front of me; browsing the selections; the thrill of purchasing new listening material. Plus, I spend to much time on the internet already; I like to be able to leave the house to go shopping. And at least if I buy music, one size fits all, and the discs don't tend to fall out halfway through the evening...

On the jukebox: The Buggles ~ Video Killed The Radio Star

February Febreze

Today, I have seen in the new month.

White rabbits, white rabbits, white rabbits.

New month, new start? That's what I said last month. (Except last month it was new year and new month, so an even bigger occasion...) January has been long. January has been dark. The fourth Monday in January is often cited as "the worst day of the year" for reasons that can be easily deduced. January has produced over forty entries of my day-to-day life. I am glad to see the back of January.

Yet why should we be waiting to make a better beginning, always? Why hold out for a defined point? I suppose it gives a opportunity for a standard measured comparision. I am holding out for the end of this week, not just because it brings the weekend, a slice of respite, but also because it holds the hope for a fresh start. So that I can look back at Feburary and say, hey, that was a successful month.

It's not always easy to see the bigger picture, and so perhaps in this case, it's better to take things day by day. Start as you mean to go on, by all means, but don't stop if you slip from what you started. So that I can look back at Today, and say, hey, that was a good day. So that I can look forward to Tomorrow and say, hey, I can make it a great day.

Here's to February, and all that it brings - birthdays, better days, love days and laughter days.

The days are getting lighter and spring is on its way.

On the jukebox: Josh Groban ~ February Song