http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:ToiletBrush&section=today deviantART RSS for by:ToiletBrush en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Tue, 22 Dec 2009 13:06:00 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/22900012/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/22900012/ Fri, 30 Jan 2009 08:06:12 PST
My first journal of the new year. Momentous.

I've been writing again recently and its drawing me back in like an old, comfortable sofa with my bodies perfect imprint accepting me back in the way that you slot in the last piece of a puzzle. It's also inspired more reading, which I'll get onto more in a moment. Otherwise i'm just lurking around here on dA, a phantom that takes but does not give. I'm getting a move on looking for work early (now, in fact) for this season, its starting well but we'll see what happens there (other than inevitably dragging me away from writing yet again, like a poor kitten grabbed by the scruff of the neck, reaching to its mother. I'll be sold on to an unloving family. They'll feed me on the cheapest packet of crap and milk me for all I'm worth, then throw me out again when they've had their fill. God I hate work.) not everyones recruiting yet, but considering all the jobs that have been lost in recent times I'm expecting competition to be even more fierce.

So anyway. I just finished reading Black Edelweiss by Johan Voss (psuedonym, real name unknown). It's a terrific read of a member of the Waffen-SS serving in Finland in the latter stages of the second world war, then moved to the western front. The book was written in an american PoW camp in 1946 but only recently published, thereby containing all the youthful freshness without the dry historical hindsight and background knowledge of a later text. The author does an excellent job of gaining empathy and really made me feel a sense of frustration at the depiction of the SS (and german soldiers in general) both then and now. The book really gives an insight into a different world and the authors developing opinions as his war experience progresses tells alot about the German soldier of the time. The most important point I picked up on personally was a regular referral to the lack of choice on wether to fight or surrender. Not because of the Nazi institution but because of the Allies declaration on requiring unconditional surrender. This gave the author at least a resolve to keep on fighting without complaint, since surrender at this point couldn't save them a thing. I've read more on the Allies demand for unconditional surrender recently but Johan Voss' opinion tells more than any historians politicking could.

Anyway, I could keep going but I won't. I seem to be becoming obsessed with the second world war, but I'm moving on from simple tactics and battles to really understanding what was going on. Lets leave it at that before I get boring again.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/21593469/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/21593469/ Fri, 21 Nov 2008 07:16:53 PST
In other news I'm reading Berlin by Antony Beevor (That guy who wrote Stalingrad. Pretty famous book on a pretty famous city.) I never enjoyed Stalingrad that much, but honestly I only bought it because it came cheap with Berlin, the battle for which I know nothing about. Yet for some reason I never actually got round to reading it. So far its very interesting and a much better book.

Right now I can spot six books I've yet to read. I should pile them up or something. Yet yesterday on [link] I selected about 20 I want to buy (I shall have to write to santa) so basically I need to pick up on reading more, I've slackened off too much.

Anyway. That's that.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/21488749/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/21488749/ Fri, 14 Nov 2008 17:09:09 PST
Nothing seems to be going the way it should. Childish dreams are forgotten each time my head hits the pillow. I'm a lazy shit wishing I was worthwhile and knowing I won't be.

I know that sounds pathetic, but I'm learning to accept that I will never be more than average. Why should I be? Because everyone once told me I would be?

So why don't I do something about it? What is there to fucking do? Why does it have to sound so easy on paper, and then when you think right, here's the plan, it never seems to happen?

In five months I'll be twenty. That's fucking scary. I need to move away, far away, and do something. But that seems even scarier. It's only me holding myself back. I guess that's the worst bit, I'm the problem, so how did I ever think I could find a solution?

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/20796199/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/20796199/ Thu, 02 Oct 2008 16:16:54 PDT
Now I just want to go to bed but I know I wont have time to really bother with this for the next 3 days minimum, so why not splash one out for the hell of it?

Work is calming down alot and I'm back in the market for a winter/christmas position. Since I have pretty much no sales experience it might be a bit more difficult, but I'm sure I'll manage something.

With alot of my mates all gone back to uni I've got more alone time, which serves well for reading and writing. I've finally managed to read Master and Commander, looking forward to picking up the next book in the series by Patrick O'Brian. Right now I'm in the middle of Sabriel by Garth Nix (Not overly amazed but could be alright, only real fault its aimed at a younger audience than me) and Lankhmar by Fritz Leiber (loved every minute so far. Pure fantasy goodness.) In terms of writing I might even submit something soon, but I won't promise, because I'd probably end up breaking it.

Well thats all I really wanted to say. Not as well put as it was the last time I tried, but it'll do for now. Need me some sleep, tomorrow should be a long day then I'm back to work for the weekend. Then next week be building an extension onto the back of the shed (it's a pretty great shed mind you, couple days work. Effectively a house.)

Yeah. Cya later.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/20040741/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/20040741/ Tue, 19 Aug 2008 12:07:06 PDT
This was the end of the dream sequence, just before I woke up. I was in a building, spartan of furniture. It was a three-roomed building designed in a row, so that to get from either end room to the other end room you had to go through the middle room, or go outside. All rooms had outer doors. In one end room there was a pile of hay or straw, a great big mound of it, yet it took up little space despite all the rooms being small (as is the way with dreams).

Inside there is a woman. Her face is blurry, except that she has bright blond, long and ringleted hair. Her body is something to covet, and I suspect her face is too. Ultimately she's a combination of everything I would call attractive (as is the way with women in dreams).

She's going cold turkey in this building. Remote, out of the way, isolated. She's in agony. There's a group of us there, though noone stands out, and we all try to help her how we can. But of course, there's nothing we can do. We don't even know what to do. She's throwing up, curled in a weak, shaking ball. SHe's hugging her knees and I remember that her eyes are red and teary and angry as she looks at me as I try to help. She's inside the pile of hay, and now someone else arrives. It's an unidentifiable man. Just a man. He's come to help. He crouches down and talks to her, and all I know is that he knows what to do. The hard work and pain seems to disappear (as is the way with difficulty in dreams).

Now she's better. She's smiling and looks every bit healthy. We both jump into a lake at the bottom of the hill near the building. The water isn't warm or cold. It doesn't sting my open eyes as I stare into hers. My vision isn't impaired and I can see the bubbles rushing from our bodies, fresh into the water. It isn't cold. The only hint that we're underwater is the picturesque coral reef behind her. We swim around together, beneath the surface, ignoring the fact that we cannot breathe.

Then I woke up. It's made me think about friends I've given up on. Made me wonder if they've found the help they needed. Why did I never try to find them the help? Why couldn't it be easy, and some bloke just turn up and fix things back to the way they were?

I'm also wondering if it hasn't changed somewhat over the time that I've had it stored in my mind. I know more happened in the building that I can't remember about. I also know I lied when I said I didn't recognise the woman. She was more specific than that. I know exactly who she is, and her body is just as perfect as I suggested.

Anyway, I'm kinda tired so... I'll leave you with that insight into my slumber world.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/19510912/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/19510912/ Mon, 21 Jul 2008 02:31:04 PDT
I watched Wall-E the other day. In fact, the second showing on the first day it came out here. Really good. Had its faults, but at the end of the day it's a disney film. i'll leave it as saying really good.

I also watched a couple months(ish?) ago for the first time Das Boot. Now that's REALLY good. Four hours and fourty minutes of sheer excellence. I've watched it a few times since (though only the first time did I watch it start to finish in one sitting) and still love it. The only downside I see is that it ends. More specifically the ending is far too sudden after the length of what has gone before. That didn't really feel right. But on the whole one of my favourite films ever.

I also watched The Mist a few weeks ago aswell. It seems we were one of the last countries to get it, but well worth the wait. Again I have problems with the ending of this one - it was too predictable. Perhaps it should have been cut off sooner, instead it was all neatly wrapped up and the mystery removed. (I think I'm the only person I know who likes cliffhangers) But overall another fantastic film I'd watch again without a second thought.

In the long string of trailers before The Mist I also learned about Defiance. [link] Which I simply have to watch. This is the story that inspired this [link] two full years ago, and even though the film seems to have those traits which I loathe and hate: over-the-top action, hollywood rambo heroics. What I dread most about this film is a focus on fighting and warfare rather than survival and bushcraft. I honestly think it'll be a huge disappointment, but I'm looking forward to it none the less.

Anyway, enough about blasted films! I'm gonna get some lunch. Well, breakfast... Brunch!

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/19014896/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/19014896/ Tue, 24 Jun 2008 06:45:37 PDT
Instead of boring you today about whatever crap I've done and thoughts I've had whilst doing it, I thought I'd serenade you with this "meme" I was tagged for. A writer's "meme", apparently. I don't know what a "meme" is supposed to be, but it seems to take the form of a sort of interview. I chose not to submit it as a deviation because, frankly, I don't think it deserves one. Instead I'll stick it here where it can easily be forgotten later on. Anyway, here goes:

First, describe yourself in three to five words

"That guy."
"Who?"
"I dunno."

How long have you been writing for?

This is a more interesting question. I remember when I was a small lad learning to write they made us write in pencil at school. Then, when you were considered good enough, you got a pen with your name on it (a piece of paper sellotaped onto a cheap pen) that you could use. I suppose the pride I felt from being one of the first in my class to get a pen hooked me in. But I don't think you can count anything I wrote as a youth as "writing". In fact I wouldn't say I started "writing" with sufficient ability til I was 16 or so, even though I had literally written plenty before that.

How do you overcome writer's block?

I don't. I go back to writing something old that was never finished, and develop it further with the benefit of a fresh outlook. Using old ideas like this seems to rekindle a smoldering flame, and the block burns away without even realising.

What do you like to write about most?

Interestingly worded. I write about many things when I really think about genres. But I like to write about extreme or strange situations and human behaviour towards or in reaction to it. While the background and "world" a story exists in interests me greatly, the heart of it is always in the characters, and exploring how I believe personalities cope. I think this is largely a curiosity on my part in humanity, and in a way, wanting to discover how I myself might react to situations I've never encountered.

Writers tend to 'baby' certain characters. What's one or two you couldn't live with out, currently?

Easily Tear'anak (spelling of name possible to change). He is a man few would really want to meet, yet some behold as a miracle. His barbarous acts affect all of mankind, and even draw the attention of the gods with childlike curiousity. Though apparently small in importance, world events spiral around him. If I didn't have him, I'd have to invent him.

You're faced with the dilemma of killing a character off. Which one is it, and why?

This character doesn't have a name. He's an aged wizard with nothing to do but walk. I'll say no more, but killing him and preventing his perfectly innocent travels would be merciful for many. If not all.

You're stuck on a deserted island with a character. Who is it and why?

Taken from the same grand story as the other two - this would have to be Swaime. Master boat-builder and pioneering sailor. Expert navigator. Explorer. Survivalist. With him around, I could just lie on the beach.

That's it ladies and gents. Lengthier answers than anticipated I expect but that's just the way I roll. No tags, just gonna go make another cup of tea and develop Swaime, since he's not yet been used he's really more of a theory than a character.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/18236555/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/18236555/ Fri, 09 May 2008 03:33:48 PDT
Has it, then, sat upon a shelf for all these years? Waiting to offer up quotes when requested, or providing my family with bedtime reading? For something that would have been so common those days, why has it been handed down? How has it survived?

But being a child of modern days - of hollywood and big dreams and possibilities, I can also wonder if it hasn't travelled, and made it's name. Perhaps my great great grandfather (if thats the right amount of great's, probably another one but...) took it to the Zulu war. Perhaps then it carried on into the Boer war, for I know he fought there, and is just the kind of man to carry relics home, many still survive (including his rifle).

I'm sure I must have mentioned this bible before, and these thoughts, because it's something that constantly makes me wonder. Simply: what happened. Thus my desire to know more of our history fuels my imagination. Yet it also brings me back to the current day, and the current situation.

How can I not now also wonder, what book I have of equivilance? If I were to pass something down through the ages, what would it be? In a world of mass-production, sweat shops and plastic, what would be worthwhile? Interestingly, a fine bible would fit perfectly, still. Though as I say I am not religious, and so the tome would carry no real meaning. But what would?

None of my small library hold much importance. But what does? At 19 I suppose it's unlikely that many people have truly collected something of real sentimental value, but even still, what do I have that isn't just junk? Is any modern production, spewed out of some machine onto a conveyor belt of identical pieces, really worth saving?

If you were to hand down something, in the hope that it would survive, what would it be?

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/17956134/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/17956134/ Mon, 21 Apr 2008 08:58:31 PDT
Furthermore, yesterday was the birth date of one Adolf Hitler. While I don't suppose many cheers were announced that morn, it was a momentous occassion I'm sure you will agree.

So now it comes to me, and in two days I will be reaching the date of my birth. Though I don't claim to put myself on par with either of these two names (yet) it was still a pretty influential day in my life.

Of others I know not, but a happy birthday to all who will celebrate one soon!

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/17862820/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/17862820/ Tue, 15 Apr 2008 10:44:33 PDT
I don't think I ever mentioned but I've found some part time work, which is great, and leads me on to category number 1 - the sunburn. I spent thursday and friday last week on the water all day, laying marker buoys for a yacht race. Despite the cold wind, the salty spray, the rain and general feeling of freezingness, I got a nice red face by the end of it. I've also had alot of fun driving on the RIBs and their water jet engines. There's just something more harmonious about them than a propeller. More gentle, yet more powerful.

So now I come to the mighty Serpent. Yesterday we were going to go for a dive (the first of the year for me, in fact) despite the supposed 9C temperature of the water. When we got there (me, my dad and my brother) they basically chickened out thanks to the visibility being, well, non-existant, so we didn't go in. But we did end up wandering along the beach. Now on the way back I wound up climbing the cliff (when I say cliff, it's not completely sheer and not particularly high) collecting old plastic bottles and crap that had been left, which led me quite a way along. Far enough in fact that I didn't want to go back to get down, but for fear of sinking into some sodden clay, or at least making a mess of my shoes (thanks to recent weather) I simply kept going. Soon there was no way down. At least not until I got all the way back to the car park, and then merely had to climb the rest of the way up. Anyway at one point I saw some lump of black plastic, so I dropped the metal in one hand and prepared to pick it up and throw it in the already bulging plastic bag I'd found earlier. When suddenly I saw an adder beside my piece of plastic crap. Venomous but not particularly dangerous, still I wasn't in the mood to get bitten so when it slithered under the long grass right beneath/beside the plastic I was after, I decided my good deed for the day was quite over and moved on, leaving said plastic well enough alone, and being rather careful to lift my metal pole from the far end.

The smile then comes from a culmination of things. Life being generally better. My mates were down from uni for a while, which has been some fun, and with the cold weather blowing off the supposed "winter depression" has finally lifted. But I also just watched the last episode of Skins series two. Yet another epic episode. If you haven't watched it, do. For a while I was thinking "they've crammed far too much into a short, hour-long episode." but really what makes the show great is how real it is. I mean most of events are a little over the top of course, but deep down this is the heart of British youth culture that is not labelled ASBO or chav. So in that sense it's quite close to my life, particularly the two years in which I studied my A levels. During that time alot was crammed into just a couple of years, and so it seems that this hectic second series was truly... true. It's good fun, but at the same time painful. I suppose I can smile then because it makes more sense now. I can come to terms with life. Though that statement is clearly a lie. Instead I should say, I can begin to come to terms with this part of life.

With that said, I'll see you when I see you.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/17346753/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/17346753/ Sat, 15 Mar 2008 12:20:14 PDT [link]

This is actually quite brilliant. In many ways.

And while I'm linking, this guy is pretty great. It shouldn't be funny at all. In fact, it's not. At all. But I can't help laughing. [link]

This one even more so [link]

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/17319825/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/17319825/ Thu, 13 Mar 2008 17:10:14 PDT
There was an earthquake in England a couple weeks ago. A proper one. They say we get them all the time, but quakes that are actually noticable in the UK occur so rarely. This one stretched the length and breadth of the country - though as usual it overlooked my little segment.

A mate of mine came down for the week and he reckons he felt it, very noticably. I think he's move back now though, without telling me. No change there. About a month or two ago another mate of mine moved to Greece without telling me. International migration with not so much as a see you later. I was invited out down the pub to see him off one night, but noone thought to tell me the reason for the drinkage so I ended up not going. He's back already anyway, so at least we can have a pint together again now.

I think perhaps I'm starting to realise I've made a mistake. Having not gone to university I've stayed on this island and my store of friends has dwindled, while they in turn have moved on to fresh pastures. Great fields of peers all there to be sociable and friendly. A part of me thinks I should have gone. For all that I gave up on school and pretty much only went in during those last few months to hand in the vital coursework (half-completed) and then for the exams, I actually wound up with better grades than some of my friends now living it large at university. So the opportunity is not lost. Perhaps I could still sign up for this year, or if not, then next.

But I won't. I've come to the point where I refuse to go to university, whether thats the wrong choice or not. I've made my bed and I will lie in it, even if it is still a mess.

A few days ago I successfully completed a day long course to qualify me to use marine VHF radio (mayday, mayday, mayday). In nine days time I'll also be doing a Powerboat level 2 course. In other words, being trained to drive RIBs. The sort of thing I've done a bit of before anyway, but having the piece of paper should look good on my CV and help me in getting a diving job. Talking to the instructor, it wouldn't take much beyond that (a bit of cash to various organisations and maybe another day course or something) to get a dive boat handler qualification with BSAC (British Sub Aqua CLub). Although I'm not actually a registered diver with them and would have to become one, I'm actually an american version, it would obviously help me out significantly. I saw a job advertised not too long ago for a skipper of a 200 ton live-aboard dive boat in the caribbean.

200 tons! Thats a very decent sized ship and naturally I'd need yet more pieces of paper and alot more experience, but even still a very fine job. I live in a town called Cowes. If you're a sailor, you may well have heard of Cowes Week. A week in the year that locals to the town think of only as having a lack or parking, a whole lot of rich bastards in town and ALOT of money to be made. This is the worlds longest-running sailing regatta and with the local tides not the easiest either. Suffice to say that this is a very good place to both learn the techniques from experienced professionals and get some decent experience on the water. I could just join the navy and save some money, but that takes alot longer.

Anyway as that progresses I really need to find a job for the inbetween time so that when I present all my pieces of paper to some well established dive company in a tropical paradise I dont then have to admit "and I've been unemployed for the last ."

Anyway. The other thing I've been thinking tonight is about my beard. It has this horrible pattern of NOT growing properly right down the middle of my chin. So that I end up right now with a nice two inches all along my jawline except for a thin strip of stubble in my chin. It looks a bit silly. So I'm thinking that tomorrow morning I'll actually shave down that centre line so that I end up with the couple inches down either side of my jaw and a bare chin. But would that just be weird? I can't take it back once it's done... We'll see how I feel in the morn.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/17086633/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/17086633/ Wed, 27 Feb 2008 09:55:26 PST
In a couple of months the local water should warm up a bit and give me a reason to get back in there, so I'll probably be adding to that little collection of scraps later this year.

My deviations however are reserved for writing alone. That's all that's ever been submitted there, so I don't see any reason to change that. While I'm on the subject, I have a thousand and one unfinished little stories. Some are unfinished because they're rubbish, others because I took a break and never got back to them. Others because I started something else and never got back to them. Regardless there are some that at least need some work. I'm therefore granting you the privilege (yes, privilege) of finishing my unfinished stuff. If I were fancy I would call it a collaboration, but lets face it, you'll be finishing my unfinished stuff.

If anyones interested either leave a comment here or send me a note and I'll dig out something to work on. Perhaps if you're in need of inspiration, a challenge, some practice, or wish to try something different. Whatever.

Ofcourse there are some pieces I'd never relinquish to any other persons dastardly mind. These I will finish myself. It just may take a while.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/16972377/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/16972377/ Wed, 20 Feb 2008 05:38:58 PST
I started thinking about them the other day when I was digging up bricks and sand and found loads of them, big chunky ones, surviving underneath it all in the soil. It makes me wonder if earthworms might survive nuclear winter, as they say cockroaches might. Again I suppose it depends on the soil and what they need from it. Nutrients usually enter the soil through rain and rotting vegetation. How much rotting vegetation would there be, and would the rain water be healthy or contain anything useful? On top of that, what else lives deeper in the mud?

Anyway. I mentioned a job interview the other week. I thought it went well, but I guess it didn't because I got a letter this morning telling me politely no. As if I hadn't already worked that out. It's strange really, you realise when the phone call date has expired that you haven't got the job. So it doesn't really matter whether they send a letter, yet if they don't it'd be considered rude. Why? Why does it matter?

Anyway I recently applied for a crew job on a small ferry company that uses it's baby-ferries for all sorts of things. That could be interesting and give me a better chance of getting it. But I haven't heard back from them so far.

Also, I had my first ever driving lesson yesterday. Went fairly well. The only thing I can't handle is the dire need to multi-task. Basically on corners, turning the wheel, indiciating, looking around, using the clutch and accelerating all at the same time (I don't care if there's an order, there isn't time to go through it) All I want to do is put my foot down and steer. Screw other people, screw gears and screw the law. Still, I think it's just practice. It's not all that complicated really.

I think that's about everything of interest in my life right now. There isn't much. I'll get paid a fair bit once I've finished laying these slabs for the driveway, so then I can have a few beers and it'll all be much more interesting.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/16749034/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/16749034/ Wed, 06 Feb 2008 04:23:44 PST
But yes, I woke up this morning (late morning) and did the most unthinkable of things. Having trimmed the old goatee into nothingness I was growing a nice even beard, with the exception of the old moustache, which I'm confident would fill out if I gave it the time. But now I've taken a blade to all that magnificence since there was absolutely no way I could make it look tidy. Instead I've now effectively elongated my old goatee so that it stretches along the jawline. It's rather dashing.

The plan here is that I should look neat enough to be employable, while still keeping a little bit of my casual, masculine look. I've even tied my hair back nice and tight to lose the curliness I have become reputable for. I doubt any of the kids that usually shout "Hey! It's that guy!" In the street at me will even recognise me.

I'm even going to wear some smart trousers and a proper long-sleeved shirt today. I'm not looking forward to that. I don't feel comfortable looking "smart". Or rather, acting it. But when I think about it I don't think I know many people that feel right about getting dressed up. In fact, in terms of men, two. Only two. One of whom is a rich git I quite frankly loathe. He's not very smart but in typical upper-class action he doesn't half try to come across that way. The other one is a good friend of mine, started out a rich git but became good and proper common. An honest working-class bloke. Except he's not that honest. He still retains his rich roots.

It's funny actually. When I think of people my age that grew up in well-off families I don't actually like them very much. I don't think it's jealousy, I've not been deprived we're not poor, my parents work very hard. But these people are just sort of confident and demanding. There was another who I actually tried to be friendly with (let's be honest, I was trying to get a better shot at a friend of hers and thought a good angle would be to be well thought of by people of influence in her life. See, I'm a genius.) It didn't work for a minute. She would hear me out for a minute and then just not care. The only word I can use is aloof.

Some people have the nerve to claim the class system is dead. I disagree. It's just more flexible. Go back to the one person I mentioned who I like. He was never short of money, though he's removed himself from that benefit, dropped out of A levels, hasn't gone to university and works a workmans trade. For all that I like him, he's a double edged sword in that he still has that overbearing "I'm right" attitude where he feels he and his opinion is more valid than someone who is precisely on the same level as him.

It's not his fault, it's the way he was brought up. He fits well in a suit when he chooses to wear one, but there are those people who can act posh and refined despite a more common background. These people are what I would call "nice". They're the ones that will actually listen to what you say, and even have an intelligent answer. Or at least an answer. This, I believe, is down to a fine upbringing almost in denial of poorer surroundings. This is what I mean by class flexibility. There is still the standard upper, middle and working classes. However it is possible for some people to transgress between them and much more easily become something else and almost be a mix of the two. That doesn't mean those classes don't exist.

Myself I find hard to define. My father is without doubt working class and born to working class parents, but my mother is more middle class and from a middle class family. The fact that they have come together is the show of flexibility. The question is what does that create? My eldest brother is a plumber and I would call working class. My other brother is at university studying physics. He's a little more proper, majority of the time, and I'd push him closer to middle class. My younger sister is too early to tell for certain, though I would predict she turns out middle class. Or atleast hope. So me, in between those last two, what am I? I think a mixture like my brother. But in truth we all need more time to develop into a permanent position, the flexibility still offers up different molds to cast us in.

Anyway I began this all by describing my appearance today. Went slightly off track. The reason being I have a job interview today and I'd really like to get it, so I'm putting on a performance of being clean and tidy.

Peace out.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/16622708/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/16622708/ Tue, 29 Jan 2008 03:45:08 PST
It was funny though, yesterday I went to post a few applications for jobs (looking forward to the summer! So many seasonal positions opening up, if I don't get something it'll be time to drown myself.) and on the way home I bought myself a Relentless. An energy drink I absolutely love and yet haven't had in a while. Before I would drink it when tired and it'd keep me going. Yesterday it sent me wild. It may be because I haven't had it in a while, or more likely it's because I'm never tired anymore. When I go to bed I can't sleep. I never become really tired, I'm just too bored to stay up. I'm simply not using up my energy. I've actually noticed I seem to be getting a bit of a belly. For a skinny guy like me that's not a bad thing really, but it used to be that I was muscle. I wasn't strong, far from it, but I had no excess fat to constrict the muscles. We're now beginning to break out of the winter and I feel rather pathetic. I feel weak, and it's not a good feeling.

But I don't want this to be a complaining post, I'm going to get back down the pool and do some lengths every morning and try to get back into shape. I think I've benefitted from this crappy winter. It's shown me what happens when you sit back and don't do anything. Hopefully enough that I won't let myself sink again.

Anyway back to the story. So I brought back my relentless to drink with a bit of lunch while I watched Serenity. I've heard all the hype but that was the first time I'd seen it. I've got to say, for once the hype was well founded. Good film. The reason I finally sat down to drive through it was because I've gone back to writing some, and one piece I'm working on has a strong sci-fi theme. I find it helps me to get into the right mood when I write, or I just lose the heart for it early on and it becomes just another thing to pass the time. But Serenity combined with Relentless got me going and typing like a dervish on heat. So that is coming along quite nicely.

I've also found a nice slot to squeeze Varulf into, a character from one of my more recent deviations. Though not really recent. I have a new name to put beside him: Tear'anak. But I'm not saying anymore than that.

So I've got my enthusiasm back. How have I done that? It wasn't Relentless. It wasn't even cups of tea. If anything, it was a lack of those things. Somehow I've worked this out within myself. But not in the usual way where I sit and ponder something and come up with some obscure answer which is interesting but ultimately irrelevant and ignorant. This is what they call self-motivation, and for someone like me thats a great thing to achieve, but very hard to continue.

We'll see how it goes. It's funny how, in life, all you can ever do is carry on. Like standing in the sea as waves crash into you. You can't stop them. You can't avoid them. You just do what you want to do despite them.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/16225859/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/16225859/ Wed, 02 Jan 2008 14:38:11 PST
It suddenly occurs to me while I'm watching this that I'm doing shots of cherry Sourz. Certainly not on a major scale, I won't even get tipsy tonight, merely warm my belly. But the irony is that even WHILE I watch this show about how bad it is for you, I'm still drinking. I've heard a thousand times it's bad for you, perhaps even told people from time to time, but I enjoy going out to get drunk. How can this possibly make sense?

The point I'm trying to make is not that I have an alcohol problem (I can't afford a problem) but that even though this is glaring me in the face it doesn't really have an impact. It reminds me of a fantastic line from the film Hotel Rwanda where a reporter who is sending off some film to the western world showing the genocide in Rwanda. He says something along the lines of "They probably won't help. People will watch this on the news, say 'that's horrible' and then go back to eating their dinner." Which is completely true. Horrifyingly true. The irony being that I can say now "That's true." But afterwards, I'm metaphorically going to go back to my dinner. Nothing will happen. It's always someone elses problem.

So it continues. Knowing that smoking is bad for you, but doing it anyway. Knowing that war is wrong, but still fighting. Knowing that certain words can hurt, but still saying them. Knowing that battery farming goes on, but still eating that chicken.

I say all this, but still it continues. What I'm typing here makes no difference. The world pays no attention. People do not change.

Now, I'm going to go back to my shots.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/16071794/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/16071794/ Mon, 24 Dec 2007 07:21:25 PST
You may wonder why I write anything at all then. So do I.

Merry Christmas.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15930407/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15930407/ Fri, 14 Dec 2007 12:24:52 PST
Instead I'm going to rant about my hatred of internet users. Or, rather, some of them. There are those people that write things that are completely wrong and worthless, but the more annoying people are the ones that reply in a condescending manner about how stupid that person is.

These people usually express themselves big words. Don't get me wrong, I inadvertantly (yeah, see) wind up typing in a way that I would consider intelligent, for want of a better word. It comes out as if I hold some superior knowledge, this probably comes from a history of writing extensive essays at school and trying to write stories and such in a mature and respectable way, not in the form of the 18 year old kid I am (I've realised in a lot of ways I say and do things almost to prove I'm not a child. But that's something for another day.)

Back to the point, these people are clearly acting all superior in order to belittle the other person and try to make their point more valid. Which is obviously nonsense, the words you use are only a means to conveying a message. The actual content of what you say may be altered, but the heart of it should stay the same. (I say should because I'm always screwing up by putting things across the wrong way, I certainly don't speak the way I type. But again, that's another story.)

The way people say that swearing just shows you have a limited vocabulary is absolute bull shit. In fact, I have a more extensive vocabulary than someone who doesn't swear because I'm able to use those words along with everything they say. There are plenty of other words you can use, but sometimes swearing has the optimum effect. Not swearing doesn't make you more important than someone who does, so get off your high horse, bitch.

Another thing I've seen several times is "leave the internet and read a book." Firstly, these people are using the internet aswell, and not just the internet but the exact same page as the original poster. Secondly, why is a book so much more valid? Books aren't that great for learning, they are formal and unchanging. The best way to learn is to do something or speak about it with a human being, which is informal and flexible. These are attributes you also find in the internet. Things change and information changes, websites change. We live in a dynamic world, yet a book can not contain this flexibility. It is constant, just as someone picking up a copy of pride and prejudice reads the same story today as was written two hundred years ago (ignoring reprints, obviously) Books are great, don't get me wrong, but accepting them as the only valid form of learning is elitist and ignorant.

On top of all that these people usually say something like "it doesn't matter, this guy just wasted his whole day making this post." which is pretty damn hypocritical isn't it? Ultimately the fools that post to complain about the stupidity are exactly the same as the people they are writing about. They make the exact same faults but twist it into a different light.

Yes, I do realise I'm calling myself a hypocrit and fool for writing this, but my ego will not allow that to actually sink in.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15889526/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15889526/ Tue, 11 Dec 2007 12:47:38 PST
You don't need to know, because this journal is not about you. What is it about? Well, it needs some backing music. So first, play this: [link]

This is about me. I don't want to drag myself yet again into some facade of rambling knowledge about politics or war or humanity, life in general, when I don't know about those things. All I know about is myself. I know what I have learnt. I know what I see, what I smell, what I touch.

I've spent the last two days on a lifeguard course, with five days remaining to qualifying. In looking for a job I sort of stumbled onto this course. There is an organisation known as Connexions aimed at helping people up to the age of 25 to find employment or to help you with interview techniques, writing a CV and so forth. They're pretty great. They told me of this course, and that they were funding people to go on it. How could I say no? They pay the course fees and even for my travel to the place. I was lucky to get on it in that some guy dropped out and they needed a replacement, so I signed up a few days before it all began.

So I've been learning about lifeguard duties and the general boring job parts, but more interesting: first aid and plenty of pool work. It isn't too difficult thanks to my diving experience and qualifications, which I'm hoping will also help boost me into a pool lifeguard job for the winter, and that in turn will help my movement again to diving during the summer. Perfect, right? But nothing ever comes out the way you expect. You can try to be realistic, but the reality will always be worse. This I have learnt since leaving school, and actually being a part of what I now percieve as reality.

So my instructor is a real nice lady, attractive, kind, encouraging and pretty laid back. She's also a fantastic teacher. We were doing some CPR yesterday and she complimented my technique. You know, the right technique, nothing outlandish. I have of course practiced on dummies before, so it was nothing strange to me, but as I say she's a nice person and she's happy to tell interesting stories taken from her years of experience. Something I had never heard before, or at least never taken in, is the potential for breaking ribs whilst giving chest compressions during CPR. Can you imagine hearing the crack? The grind as broken bones rub against each other with every successive press of your hands? I cannot.

The truth is if you're giving CPR that person is already dead, and you are not going to save them. But it's still pretty horrific. With any luck I won't ever have to do it, yet I have to wonder: will the reality be far worse than I prepare for? According to my logic, yes.

So here we are, at the turn of the tide. When reality becomes more real. When the most realistic film loses all it's artificial lighting and the make-up is torn away. When everything is louder, larger, closer, and yet less clear. The real question is what does this mean to me? Is it a challenge to be faced, or something to fear? When the shit hits the fan, am I going to back down?

I don't know. That is reality.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15821577/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15821577/ Thu, 06 Dec 2007 13:35:27 PST
To continue in that I've found some British poetry far away from the glory and depression of the war poets, farther from the old romantics, and ignored by the majority of professionals in the poetic field.

It's clear to all that alot of modern poetry is cynical and points out the wrongs in society, and the poet I want to focus on today works the same way. He (if it indeed is a he) is known simply as Casey, and no more information is evident. But what more do we need to be told? For all his life is plain to see in his poetry.

His poetry takes on a political viewpoint from the working class, and is even written in a style that I can voice in no way other than what I would call a "common" accent. It simply does not fit to any other style, and I like that, it's engaging. One word of note is "arl" which is actually "old" just spelt as it is spoken in an accent. The area of the accent is difficult to decipher since not all words are spelt as they are spoken. I would say either one of the many variations from north England or possibly a variation of south london (which really includes all of the south east). In other words, any of the many English accents. I don't really have enough experience with the north to recognise it in writing, so I can't say with any much certainty, but I would guess this is a northerner.

Whoever this Casey is, the poetry screams to me of middle aged working class englishman (or woman), and the views of their social demographic. But make up your own mind.

[link] There are more poems to the right. I'd like to point out in particular and other than the one directly linked (In order for your ease):
Can we have our game back please?
I Read the News today Oh Boy.....
Roll Up Roll Up the circus is in town....
The ones who don't make it
The ego has landed

I do suggest you read the others too, if you've the time or stomach.

My own poem I managed to write early in the week (miraculous! I managed to stay on target!) and is called Born To Follow

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15722966/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15722966/ Thu, 29 Nov 2007 15:10:37 PST
I have decided after increasing thoughts of poems the last few days from various areas that my mind has lost any poetic influence. While studying english literature the last couple of years I could hardly avoid poetry, and it infected my own writing.

For all that I would not call myself a poet to any real degree, I do enjoy writing them and it can be a very effective way to present something. But mostly I enjoy reading them.

I enjoy reading them because they are always so infused with emotion. They capture the heat, or perhaps cold, of someones mood. The english language being so effective in it's description and so vividly beautiful with such a multitiude of words lends itself wonderfully to poetry. Yet poetry is a universal language. Every land in the world has enjoyed its poetry, in whatever language and whatever climate. In this form is preserved the society of a people.

Archeology can show us peoples crafts and histories be they spoken or written tell us what the people did. But poetry can tell us who they were.

In this light I dedicate this Thursday, and the time until next thursday, to a poet who did not write in English. Someone who lived in a world that I can never hope to understand. Yet through her poetry I can learn a snippet of what she felt, and perhaps she can accept my prying eyes in her life for a brief moment.

Her name was Nadia Anjuman. An Afghan poet who I will leave you to read about on the linked below website. I suggest you do. Until recently I was unable to read most of her poetry, but thanks to this site it's available in English to the public. As I have said it's an interesting insight to a world I can't possibly understand, and speaks much of what can be called the role of women in Afghanistan. Bear in mind it has been translated, so will naturally lose much of what it was.

[link]

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15711331/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15711331/ Wed, 28 Nov 2007 17:40:32 PST
Today I want to bitch about the internet. In particular online gaming and its effect on people. In particular, on young people.

There is a certain MMORPG (that style of gameplay that once made a parent forget to feed his child) called tibia. It is free to play and basically full of rude and annoying people. All a player can really do is fight and improve their character by doing so, they can also fight each other. When somebody dies they lose alot of what they worked for. Expensive items and experience points they earned from hours of fighting.

In this particular game that seems to make people very angry. Very. It's absolutely crippling because it's the entire point of the game and it can literally take 6 hours to earn it back. It is entirely pointless, really.

Anyway somehow I got dragged back into this and I was listening in on what some people were saying. One girl said she started playing the game when she was 7 years old. She's now ten. Personally I don't think a kid should be playing that much, but thats none of my business is it? Bear in mind its now 1 am and shes still online as far as I know. She claimed that she had cried because of this game. That made me pretty depressed, but what could I say? "Hey kid, get a life."

There were other similarly young kids talking to her aswell. Having spent more of my teens than I care to remember playing online games and generally being a loser I can understand that they tend to take over your life. I can understand that they begin to feel important.

However I had the privilege of experiencing this when I was older than she is. I had the privilege of not growing up in a virtual world. This is a game where people say "leave" if you enter an area, and if you dont they kill you. This is a game where they trick you and block you in against powerful enemies so that you die and they take your stuff without having to actually fight you. People don't speak in proper sentences, they cut out connectives and just make things as quick and easy as possible. "sell <rice>" or ambiguous questions like "relog?" When I asked what someone meant by "relog?" they got annoyed for having to explain.

This is NOT the world a child should be brought up in. I'd rather see them roaming the streets in gangs with knives, at least that is real.

So I tell this to my friend i met in the real world (who is a bitter and angry person, and is playing this game at the same time) and he laughs. he's just laughing at it all. Because they're sad and pathetic. I suddenly realise that he is an image of what they could grow up to be. Laughing at the fact that a 10 year old cries over a game, getting angry and shouting about the house when he in turn dies in the game, and being unemployed having dropped out of school more than a year ago.

He goes on to tell me a story about some other kid who made a good friend in this game, but later someone else told said friend some lie about the kid. So the friend kills the kid in the game, and the kid is asking him to stop but he wont. He's actually crying while his "friend" is killing him. This would be pathetic to watch. Very pathetic.

Is this what his childhood memories should be like?

When I was about 14 or something I used to talk to this girl on msn pretty much every day. She was brilliant we really hit it off. The kind of person that, if I knew in person, I'd want to spend every minute with. Assuming she was who she said she was and what have you. But as I always do with ladies I inadvertantly insulted her. She got pretty upset and this in turn made me rather annoyed. Not so much that I was crying over it but I felt very bad. There was a lump in my throat.

The point is I still remember that. I probably won't ever forget it, yet the overriding fact is that this was just some person I met on the internet.

Games are played for fun. These kids should not be so engrossed in them and take them so seriously that they are crying. They should not be playing so much.

On World of Warcraft (a similar game) some people held a funeral in the game for a player that died in real life. Other players came and killed everyone there. They posted the video of it all on youtube, if you're interested. Just search for WoW funeral. Its easy to say they were sad for having this funeral in a game. Its easy to say that it was only a game and the people that attacked didnt exactly DO anything wrong. But it's what it represents thats the point.

I'm not saying there's anythin... ]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15615219/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15615219/ Thu, 22 Nov 2007 04:59:11 PST
They don't always seem to with me, actually, but most people at most times just seem to flow. The words are simply there. Do you answer that way because it is something you have rehearsed? No. You simply do it. You don't put this much worthless thought into it.

That then is the power of the subconscious mind.

But what I was going to say that the other night I had a dream. Now, usually, I forget my dreams the moment they stop. This time it stuck for a second longer, long enough for me to drowsily scribble on some paper. It all started with diving, or preparing to dive this lake with a few of the lads, but after some hazy complexities everyone except me was drunk and we were just sort've near this lake. Only it wasn't a lake, because it was in this massive tent like a circus.

Before you know it some equally drunk blokes are chasing us with knives around the lake, after some strange argument anyway, and we decided to escape by cutting our way out of the tent. So we slipped out between two layers of canvas, and instead of cutting through the second aswell and out to freedom we followed the circuit round to the exit. Somebody noted it was strange that the ropes holding the two canvas sheets together (for some reason) had all been cut. but I thought nothing of it. When we got to the exit there they were, the knife-wielding maniacs who chased around this lake with a tent over the top. Sitting in plastic garden furniture waiting for us and playing with their knives. They said something then, before they chased us out of the circus, because apparently it was a circus, and what they said was that they had cut those ropes and preceded us down the canvas corridor toward the exit, anticipating what we would do. But I was shocked. I was surprised and afraid.

How? After all, it had already been hinted that someone already went that way. The knowledge was there in my mind (it must have been, somehow I had planned that this would happen or I would never have had that original warning) but in the dream I did not pick it up. This was not a form of my imagination because I was not controlling it, for there is no physical way I could decide to blind myself to something.

The important point is, after all that, that in this dream I tricked myself. I obviously knew it was going to happen but I didn't know it would happen.

This then is the power of the subconscious mind. To control you without you ever knowing it. It stands to reason therefore that yes, something inside decides what you will say without you having control over it. At least some of the time, like when drunk.

I suppose the real question now comes to the dream. What are the chances I should have such an enlightening dream? Did my subconscious, knowing that my conscious mind was thinking about it, put this in the way for me?

Is this the soul?

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15576893/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15576893/ Mon, 19 Nov 2007 13:17:15 PST
It's annoying though, I've had to go a whole day with nothing (or at least very little) to stroke. Despite the fact that in the end the actual act was very easy to commit, it was rather hard deciding to lop it off. The trouble is I can usually get myself an interview, filling an application or writing up a CV isn't that hard, it's all about twisting what you've done (whatever that may be) to somehow relate to the job. But interviews I can't do. I do believe at least some of that comes from my appearance. So why should it be so difficult to change that one thing? I'm certainly not cutting my hair - these all-natural golden ringlets are the closest thing I'll ever have to treasure.

But why is that? I like to think that my appearance doesn't really matter, it takes me about two minutes to get ready when I go out. Maybe less. But I know that it does have an impact on people, so why don't I make myself look nice? Or is that the impact I want to make? Is it a sort of carefree attitude I'm unconsciously trying to portray?

Or is it that I'm just too damn lazy?

But that leads to this "Journal". It's not a journal. A journal is a private document that records what you do or feel or whatever, but a journal isn't put online for anyone to read. The key word is private, not to be read until you're dead by some nosey parker. So why am I writing this? What sort of impression am I trying to make? Am I somehow proud of the fact that I trimmed my beard?

Why am I even asking these questions? Do I expect people who have never met me to know me better than myself? Or do I already know the answers to these questions? Am I asking in order to make an impression, to lead you toward a particular answer, to make you feel something about me?

But if that's true and I know these answers then why is it I asked them originally with no such intent? Simply as a means of expression. Is the subconscious mind that powerful? Do I ask these particular questions because they are true, or because I am afraid they might be true? Or are they in fact what was intended: simpy as a means of expression. But of course that begs the question: what am I trying to express, and how can I be by asking a question?

How have I drifted into this at all? How have I so lost track of what I was saying? How do I know so little? How is it I always managed to sit quietly as if I understood when the teacher asked "any questions?" when there are so, so many!

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15488032/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15488032/ Tue, 13 Nov 2007 03:04:30 PST
On the plus side it offers me a new perspective on life, I'll have to get close to things to be able to see them. Just as I'm leaning over the keyboard now to read these words. That's not going to be good for my eyes. I'll probably need a new pair of glasses by the time these come.

Anyway, something I haven't spoken about yet but really should do is Remembrance Day. That day of days that is perhaps, other than christmas, the only time I observe tradition.

When I say observe I literally mean it. I watch the Queen and the parades and the flag blowing in the wind. I may know not a thing about war or the dead, but even I can pay respect. I do so by partaking in the greatest tradition of our time: two minutes of silence.

I remember two of these silences vividly in my memory. The first I must have been about ten years old. I was in the swimming pool mucking about. I remember exactly: it was summer, we were in the outdoor pool. It was lovely and warm, and a drowned, floating fly raised much concern among my youthful peers and I. A lifeguard's whistle marked the 11th hour, so we swam hurriedly to the side of the pool and held on for two minutes of silence. Two minutes of boredom. I could hear dim church bells in the distance, and all I wanted was for it to end so I could get back to splashing chlorene in the eyes of my mates. Just one more thing I feel incredibly guilty about today.

The other two minutes burned into my memory was only a couple of years ago. I was sat in front of the tv watching london in it's silence (a remarkable thing on its own) and from somewhere in the house I hear the roar of life raging from the hoover. For that two minutes of peace I endured the blaring drone. I was annoyed at the lack of care and my inability to do anything, for fear of breaking my own silence, even a little upset. That hoover itself is a symbol as much as the silence should have been. That even when we think we are at peace, for such a miniscule time, it does not truly exist.

Pathetic, right? I sound weak. A two minute silence benefits noone. It's worthless, do the dead care? Probably not, but there is no harm in showing a little respect. The physical act of these traditions hold no practical value, but the message they carry falls like a ton of bricks in the sea, splashing all.

Why is war and the men of war, be they living or not, so fascinating? Why does it draw me like a crow to a corpse? Why, after hearing testimonies from those men shattered by their war experiences, does it only make me want to witness it more? I feel sad for them, and for some reason I want to put myself into what they've been through. Do I want to test my mettle? See if I crack under the strain?

As they say: "War is sweet to those who have not experienced it." I know this as I know that mars is red, though I have never seen it. I believe it because it is what I have been told. But I want to see it. I want to be disillusioned, even already knowing that it would happen. Knowing that I would come back broken and unfixable. Perhaps I just want to be a different person, the way a veteran may dream of my innocence. But I cannot accept it. I can learn all these things, and though I know them to be true I cannot believe.

But what do I know of it? What do I understand of my own feelings or those of others? What do I know of war? What do I know of peace, without seeing anything else? This is my ultimate guilt: That I think I know anything, yet cannot stop thinking it.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15371510/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15371510/ Mon, 05 Nov 2007 04:14:51 PST
I have decided I don't need a job, gambling is the way of things. I went to the casino the night before last with £20 in my pocket, the last few pennies I had to my name, and came back with some £80, minus taxi fare and a couple of pints.

This deserves a congratulations, I think, yet people all shout and cry "luck" as if the lady had anything to do with it. This is a man's world, and if she moved my chips into the victory position I would be most surprised. No, there is no luck in gambling. There is math and chance. It's about choosing the greatest odds of success, while accepting that they are not 100% and you could lose, but carrying on with the best chance you can give yourself.

That is no luck. It would be luck to put my whole £20 on 30 (to clarify, roulette is the game), to win and be ridiculously rich because of it. It is intellect to choose the points which offer the greatest chance of victory. Just as a general attacks the line where his enemy is weakest, just as the farmer plants his crop at a certain time of year, just as the sailor uses the sail which will catch the most of the wind and drive him faster to the finish line.

Life itself is a gamble. But anyone who says poker is a game of pure luck has clearly never won, at least not against anyone who knows how to play. Yes, there is a chance a card will come up which allows your opponent to get a flush beating your straight. But this is chance, not luck. There is a difference. It is a chance that you could calculate and take into consideration, it is a chance you took knowing that it is less likely to come up in your opponents advantage. You were not unlucky, you simply chose the best option you had available. After all, what else could you do? Would you fold on a straight just because there's a chance you may not win? Your opponent may have a low flush, in which case, bet enough, and you may scare them into folding. This, again, is chance. You are taking a chance after weighing the possibilities, there is no luck involved in what decision your opponent will make. No luck in a cognitive decision.

Anyway. Yeah I was in Reading visiting a mate at university when we went to the casino. Unfortunately we don't have one on my island, it'd cost me a good £15 or something to get to the closest one across the water and back. Naturally there is a chance of losing, in which case it would be most unprofitable. Anyway there were some good guys at the uni, good poker players. Hopefully I'll get a chance to play them again some time.

Perhaps I should have gone to uni. I could see myself in one of those small rooms in front of a laptop writing away all night long. I told myself that a two year creative writing course would not be really worthwhile, since I can write here without going to uni. I can improve my own work and get other opinions without that setting. Yet I suppose that's not true is it, while in university accomodation I would have had a great spot to write, here at home I haven't even had the time.

Still, I made my choice. I weighed my possibilities and chose my life chance that I thought fitted best. No doubt if I had gone right now I'd be telling you it was hard work and I may have been better off not going. I may still go to uni anyway, next year or the year after, that was always the option. The roads are still open, though perhaps my chance of walking them is diminishing with time.

Anyway. I really need a job at this point. Whilst gambling profits are good, realistically, living on this island, it's just not going to keep me. But hear this: once I get some more cash, I'm back to the casino. But now I'm gonna head out and try to find some work.

Oh, and Egypt was great too. I'll talk more about that later though.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15172380/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15172380/ Mon, 22 Oct 2007 11:58:36 PDT
So anyway, I'm leaving tomorrow, just thought I'd say a goodbye to dA. But I'll be back in a week so no big deal. Little annoying when you sign in to see however many deviations been posted and knowing you wont be able to read em til whenever, but I'm sure I'll just enjoy em all the more next week.

Unfortunately I have to get up early, which I hate. I've no problem with mornings, I'm a perfectly happy person, it's just that transitional period between being in bed and being awake. Usually about an hour or so, when I want to just collapse. Through harsh practice I've found that going to bed early doesn't work (I can't sleep) and so it's just a matter of setting the alarm and gritting my teeth. Gritting my teeth so that in the morning I force myself not to turn the alarm off. It's gotten to that point with this alarm that I can automatically turn it off on the first bell and turn comatose.

So yeah I'm diving all week, which will be fun. Warm, clear water. Bliss. If I drown, or get left behind when the boat leaves, I'll be sure to let you know. Which will be loads of the funny if you've never been haunted before. Personally I have several ghosts watching over my shoulder even now. Good lads, don't know where I'd be without 'em.

Until my splendificent return.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15139924/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15139924/ Sat, 20 Oct 2007 07:48:32 PDT
I went out last night, so that started it all off this morning when I had to get up to do some gardening for this bloke whose garden is basically (or was) an overgrown forest. This guy is 87. That number is incomprehensible to me. He was 69 (dont laugh you loser) when I was born, which is pretty amazing. Yet his story is a tragic one. I always feel guilty about telling potentially the entire internet using world about someone elses life, but I'm going to anyway.

he suffered some very serious burns all over his left arm during the second world war and ever since has had difficulty using that arm. It's gotten to the point now, combined with old age, that its agony for him to pick up a kettle. His wife died some time ago aswell, and it seems to me that he has given up. I was cleaning out his gutters the other day on a ladder and I couldnt help looking through the window to see him sat in a chair with his head in his hand, possibly asleep, but I don't believe he was.

What was he doing? Maybe he was asleep, or he was thinking about something, or felt ill. But I kept thinking that he felt awkward about looking at me, and me looking at him. Not because I was some stranger, but because I was doing a job he wished he was able to do. At 87, nobody expects you to clear your own gutters, but I think his injury has made him feel inadequate and that he has to make up for it.

Today i felt incredibly sorry for him. If I am right about him, I know for sure he would never want my pity, but would he want my company? Would I be able to make an old man feel better about life by visiting him and talking to him properly. Perhaps I could get him to go out and help me with his garden some time. After all I know nothing about gardening, but from what his obviously used to be, I suspect he does. He could direct me and that garden could be beautiful, it has the potential already. Perhaps I could, somehow, make a man feel good about living. If I asked to write his biography I could spend hours talking to him about happier memories, try to encourage him to BE happy.

I knew, and know, I wanted to do these things. I want to at least try to help in whatever way I can, and yet reality pinches me awake and tells me "you'll never do it." and why should I anyway? I have no link to this man, he's just someone I feel sorry for. He certainly wouldnt want me intruding on his life. He would never actually let me do these things, would he? I for one find it all incredibly depressing.

I find it more depressing to understand how selfish I'm being even now. I talk about wanting to help someone whilst convincing myself that the world is a selfish place, where logic insists in my mind that people need to be selfish. Perhaps need is the wrong word, but that is who we are. This is the world I live in, so surely I must be as selfish as the prick who parked his truck and trailer right across the road at the tip preventing anyone from getting past? (he was clearly a rich bastard though, and we all know what theyre like)

But I'm being selfish now, by talking about myself. I'm using this old man as a tool to express my own feelings. This story is, after all, about MY urge to help, and MY apparent inability to do so. How can I be both people? How can I want to help if I'm so selfish? It's quite simple really. I don't want to help him at all, I may well feel sorry for him but I want to help him in order to feel good about myself. To stop me from feeling pity. I might like to fool myself into believing I would do something for him, but would I? Would it not wind up being for my own satisfaction?

I refer again to that ultimate quote in my signature: Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is. As always I have rediscovered that I am a selfish prick, and in my truly western way I shall now move on. I shall change the channel from this program I do not like, and rest on something happier.

Yet first I shall say this: I have also discovered perhaps what is missing from the modern world. That is sacrifice. What do we really sacrifice? When there's the option of vanilla or chocolate ice cream, you'll probably prefer to have both. The fact that I use ice cream for an example is pretty depresing in itself.

Anyway. Going down the pub tonight to watch the rugby. England v South Africa. This should be an epic match, I'm looking forward to it. If you're not watching it, then I'll soon return and shout patriotic things to quickly make you aware that England won.

I used to credit myself on being able to see things from different angles. (that sentence itself is selfish. <- try saying that quickly three times) But how can I when every angle I see is from my perspective? It is my impression of that angle. I might feel like I'm wearing someone elses... ]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15024462/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15024462/ Fri, 12 Oct 2007 04:35:03 PDT
But there we are. I basically rushed through this one because yesterday I ordered the complete chronicles of Conan from amazon, and didn't want anything to interfere with my reading that. It came this morning (I had to pay extra, but it was guaranteed to come to day, and the book itself was on offer so i thought what the hell) So I'm looking forward to that. 1000 pages of Robert E Howard's masterpiece. I read a few of the Conan tales when I was younger, loved the writing style and the story, but never did any more than that. This should be fun.

I've also been writing (shock horror! well, maybe not horror. But definitely shock) and I've actually got something to submit (double shock!) two things, in fact (SHOCK SHOCK SHOCK! enough of that now) the other night I didn't get to bed til 2:30 because of it, and that was a good feeling to be in the zone again. It feels good to block out all other sound, not even really noticing the words on the screen, simply being there in the moment of the story. One of them, which I'm pathetically calling 'Knowledge' is almost something like that, towards the end.

I can't seem to finish all the older things I have waiting to be completed. I think perhaps they're too old now. I've left them for too long. Even though I still manage to remember what I want to do with each of them (which is miraculous since I never remember anything, probably because my memory is full of the endings to half-finished and even unstarted stories) I can't get back into that zone with them. What I need to do is either crack on with them and force myself back into it or leave them, I think, and do some new stuff again. Would be a shame to waste it all though, I did like alot of them.

I think it's all about focus. Since I've not been working and had pretty much no responsibilities I've been able to write all night long and leave myself 'in the zone'. it's brilliant. I wish I never had to get a job. If someone would pay me to read and write I'd fall over laughing with glee. But they'll already pay me to dive, so I guess I can't get much greedier than that can I?

Luckily for me I'm going to the red sea, egypt, in like 11 days, for a week full of diving. Should be fantastic, really looking forward to it. Completely last minute thing me and my dad cooked up, just the two of us going to leap into the water. Apparently its hot there, too. (In egypt. Hot. Would you have guessed?) Can't say I'm a fan of major heat, but once my body gets used to it I'm alright, I just think I don't give myself a chance TO get used to it, usually.

Anyway because I'm leaving so soon I can't really get a job, can I? I can see it now: "You're hired!" (as if that would happen) "Great! By the way, I can only work a week, then I'm going away, but I'll be back again the week after." "Piss off, we'll take the other guy." But that leaves me with another week or so to myself, and my words, then when I get back I'll try and find work again.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15010856/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/15010856/ Thu, 11 Oct 2007 06:02:49 PDT
I like that quote. I've probably quoted it before. Why do I like it? Because I believe it. At the tender age of eighteen, I have a strange feeling that I should serve my country. Of course, there are many ways to serve ones homeland. Be a policeman, a fireman, a doctor, a teacher, a banker, a lawyer, a builder, even stacking shelves at the local co-op. All these people offer a service that keeps the country ticking.

Yet the only true way to serve, is to join the service. I wonder, would it be so foolish to sign myself up for the navy? There was once a time when it was encouraged. There was once a time that if you wanted to see the world, that was how you did it. There was once a time when it was good, and respectable, to be a soldier.

The generals are looked up to, of course. But the soldiers? The sailors? The little men that make up the actuality of the forces, who are they? Stereotype them in your mind.

Admiral Lord Nelson was a celebrity, so it is said. A true hero of the British populace. Now who do we have? Wayne Rooney and that fat chick on big brother? Who cares about them?

It would seem that a militaristic society today would be considered brutal and barbaric. It seems to me that the soldiers and the sailors are not looked at as normal people. They're different, like an anomaly. They do their work and we clap for them and we read articles in the tabloids that tell us we support them, though in practice we offer them nothing. We feel sad when we see a flag covered coffin carried back home, and then we change the channel.

I was on some scaffolding the other day helping my dad with some work and I noticed the looks we received from men walking past. Men look at you, as though they know what you're doing. As if thats a job they could see themselves doing, even if they are your typical shirt and tie office bloke. They watch almost longingly.

It is that sort of thing that takes me back to "Every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier, or not having been at sea." construction work and soldiering may sound different, but the principle is the same.

My entire life I've been brought up to believe that, without a doubt, war is wrong. But do I really believe that? Is this something I have understood for myself or is it something I have been taught?

I've been watching Band of Brothers (greatest show ever) and in it replacements arrive to the front towards the end of the war. All they want to do is get involved and see some action, while the veterans realise that its shit and everyone should take it easy. The replacements aren't stupid. I believe they know that war is horrible, that they could die, but how could they ever admit that without being able to say they've seen it? Going to war and never seeing action must be like being picked last for the football team, only a thousand times worse. Where do you fit in? Not with the experienced troops, but not with civilians either. Forever you would have to carry the guilt that you went to war and while other men died you did nothing. You volunteered to put your life on the line, but the officers decided you weren't ready to do it.

I'm rambling now. I think I'll bring this to a close. I came here with so many things to talk about, but it seems my focus has been on one topic alone. You may be thinking "bah hes been watching band of brothers and its got him all worked up" while thats true it has (because its so very powerful and amazing) I only started watching it again because of these thoughts.

I've been asking myself: should I join up? But then more and more I've been wondering: why shouldn't I join up? It seems like the right thing to do.

My main opposing thought is about my hair. I have beautiful curly golden hair that, pulled straight, reaches down to my nipples. All natural. Women envy me. I wouldn't be happy to have to shave off my perfect headbanging material. The glasses aswell. Such a weakness. In any physical work they're a hindrance, but at sea they're hell, and I've never faced the true ferocity of ocean waves in a storm. Nor have I crawled through mud whilst trying to clean my glasses. I bend and break them enough while falling about drunk.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/14768120/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/14768120/ Mon, 24 Sep 2007 06:14:41 PDT
First of all, I am writing a bit more (which isn't saying much really, since I've been writing nothing for some time) but hopefully there will be a chance to submit something soon. I have all these ideas, all these plans, all these half-finished attempts, I just need the time and the motivation to complete.

So I am a PADI Assistant Instructor, i'm just waiting on the certification to come through the post now. I've done a couple days working, teaching a guy (the assistant prefix is meaningless, i can pretty much teach, I just cant tick the little box that officially says someone has done what they need to do. Someone else has to evaluate, but I can do the legwork) and I just got a call asking me to work wednesday to finish off a couple of people's course in open water. So that'll be fun.

Realistically now though I need to find a proper job. There's one going at the prison as a librarian, which would be kick ass. But apparently I need a car for that job (no, I don't know why) so thats out of the question. Still, I'll head into town tomorrow and hunt about. Yeah, I could go today. But I'm not going to. Alright? The theory is that places want people to work for the christmas months, especially since all the students are moving away again. So I should be able to find something. Up until the new year, when I'll get fired. But at that point I should hopefully be able to find a job abroad, diving. Hopefully.

Anyway, everyones off going to uni, so its sort of goodbye time. I've been saying this for ages really, but now its actually happening. In fact, most people have already gone. Looks like I need to make new friends.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/14571959/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/14571959/ Mon, 10 Sep 2007 07:29:44 PDT It's goodbye to the shortcuts,
Hello to the grind.

Nobody ever said it
Would be an easy ride.

Suffer for your art.

So I just went down the shop to crack open a can of relentless which now rests beside my hand, and I suddenly realised something. It's a school day. School still exists, and I am not there. When I'm diving I feel strangely free, you can forget everything you've left behind on the surface. For a while my mind almost goes blank, I don't think about anything. Yet I have never felt so free as I did at that moment, strolling down the street to purchase a tall can of that wonderful green liquid.

Even now as the cool can soothes my body and prepares my mind for a long afternoon, evening and possibly night of hardcore theory and bookwork in preparation for tomorrow's beginning of the Assistant Instructor course, I'm beginning to awaken to the fact that it's over.

My student card has expired. Which is hell, because it means I have to pay the ridiculously large full fare on the bus. I am no longer a member of that occupational label "student". The next time I fill a form in I will print, in black or blue ink, "unemployed" or, hopefully, "scuba diving assistant instructor".

It's also so wonderful to finally be on the verge of the realisation of that dream I had what seems so long ago. That, when all my mates go off to university, to learn, very soon now, I will go off to teach. Of course, I'm not finished yet, I have a lot of hard work to get through over the next few days.

The first thing is to finish my underwater map, which I'll do tonight. That'll finally be the completion of my Divemaster course which should have been over a month past. I do like maps, though. I could sit and stare at a map for hours. If I could draw, or if there was somewhere left for a map to be made of, or a need of it to be done by hand, I would love to be a cartographer. As it is I could be one, of the underwater variety, just give it a few more years practice first.

Have you ever had the feeling that you're in a moment of grand transition? That you're at a pivotal moment of your life where things could take such different directions. It's as if all the gates and doors, windows and even chimneys have opened themselves up to me. All the secrets of the world available, yet all of them still secret until you step down the path of understanding them. For how can you know something, until you do it? All these options opened themselves, and perhaps I chose one of those that were more obvious in my life, was more readily available to me. But do I regret that choice? Not in the slightest.

I'm still in that time of change. I can still feel it. Still feel the uncertainty, the knowledge that tomorrow I'm going to have to do something different and understand more of life. I know that this isn't the world I've belonged to for the past fourteen years. Fourteen years of full time education. The past couple of months could have just been another summer holiday, all part of the school year. But it's not. That's done now. That door has closed behind me, and though I could turn around and open it again I know that i don't have to. I already understand where that path leads and now its time to try others.

Time to explore the world. Time to test other handles. What's behind door number one? What's outside of the round window? Time to draw my map of the world, the map of my life. Time to be an explorer, a cartographer, like I always secretly dreamed.

Where does your map lead?

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/14439681/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/14439681/ Sat, 01 Sep 2007 10:50:37 PDT It's goodbye to the shortcuts,
Hello to the grind.

Nobody ever said it
Would be an easy ride

Suffer for your art.

I fucking love Relentless.

Anyway. It's been an interesting month, and right now I'm clearing up after it since my parents are back tomorrow. Fun, fun, fun. I must admit I'm looking forward to some real food, I certainly haven't been managing my five fruit and veg a day the way I've been eating. One morning I woke up to make a cup of tea, ended up with a pot noodle (somehow) and that became my breakfast. For lunch today I had a pork pie, all 3/4 kilograms of it, while dinner last night was a sandwich and two packets of crisps.

It kind've makes me wonder how the bus drivers don't believe I'm a student. I mean honestly, is there nothing more studentish than being irresponsible enough to lose your student card? Why argue with me over that? Bastards.

Where was I... Parents back tomorrow. Tomorrow is also the day I will make my first dive at Fort Victoria. It's a fort (five points if you already guessed that) on the west of the island, and there's this little old pier there. They used to dock up the old navy ships there and load them with whatever they needed, or maybe to load off into the fort, whatever. The point is they inadvertently dropped a whole load of trinkets down there, over the years, ripe for the plucking. The pier itself is off limits now (its falling apart) but noones stopping us swimming under it. Naturally most of the treasure's gone now, but I'm not coming up without something. I'm a bit of a magpie I suppose.

The reason I've never dived it before is the tide. The current around the island doesn't look all that, but its actually very strong. At fort victoria there are only limited times when its sensible to go in. Supposedly it's safe around the pier itself because the current doesn't come in that close, but if you go out beyond it you're going to be dragged away. Fact. Hence we wait for slack tide on neaps before diving, which doesn't always pop up at a do-able hour.

So I was watching a film earlier, though only the second half I'm sorry to say. This film has everything in it, and it's brilliant. I'm not entirely certain of the message its putting across, it covers some fifty years of a mans life and ofcourse his perspective changes through that time, but it must also be influenced by the fact that it came out in 1943 - before the end of the second world war.

Anyway, watch it. It's called 'The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp.'

In other news, I am neither reading nor writing as much as I want to be. I actually started writing something new the other day which I think might work out really well, I'm looking forward to finding a day when I can get back into it. (five points if you already realise I'm never going to finish it)

I was trying to read Moby Dick, and what I have read is great. There's something wonderful about the way the classics put in so much unneeded information and description at seemingly irrelevant moments. It adds so much more depth to their stories, while these modern things are much more focused on what the reader 'needs' to know to further the plot. Or is it that most modern authors have no padding to put into their stories? Are they that simple? minus the standard plot twist/s near the end ofcourse.

I've also decided I'm going to try and brush up on my german. (five points if you thought toilet when you read brush) I was never any good at it, but it'll help me if I plan to get a job diving, or really a job anywhere where I have to work with people. Which is pretty common in this society.

It seems so strange that all the jobs I'm likely to be able to get involve selling things to people. Such worthless jobs. All the providers in the world provide for others as well as themselves. Why? They don't NEED to. Or atleast, they shouldn't need to. Yet they effectively do it so that we can then sell their produce to someone else. Logically speaking, it's ridiculous. Why can't we all provide for ourselves? Whatever happened to self-sufficiency? Why can't we carry our own weight? Could this all yet again be blamed on overpopulation?

Is there so many of us that it's actually easier to rely on other people? Is fame limited to five minutes each because otherwise people wouldn't all get a chance? Now we even make up false excuses for fame to squeeze everyone in (five points if you're thinking of big brother).

Are there so many people in this world that it's impossible to be talented? After all, where's the talent in doing something loads of people can do? Are we all so blank, faceless, similar, not because of a degenerating culture or "equality" but because there are so bloody many of us? Too many faces to remember.

There are so many people to be... ]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/14221844/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/14221844/ Sat, 18 Aug 2007 06:21:11 PDT
It was a good day, everyone who wanted to get into university got in, wether it was the uni they really wanted or their second choice. There were tears, of joy and sadness, and I got completely drunk. It was really great to see everyone again though, it sucks that everyone is working these days, makes it hard to keep up. On top of that a bunch of my mates are about to head off for uni. Whats a guy to do, when he doesn't really want to say goodbye?

Just one of those things you get used to, I guess. I should finish Divemaster this week (how many times have I said that?) and I'll be starting Assistant Instructor not long after. But before I can do that I need to buy some books and such, including the infamous big old fat instructor manual. The trouble is I have no money, and now I'm running into problems with the bank. Phoned them twice today, got bored of waiting for them to answer.

My parents went away yesterday aswell, which doesn't help - there'll be no begging for money, or any assistance in tracking down my own money. It also means I have to cook. Got home at 7pm yesterday to stick a cheap shit curry in the microwave. Funny story - apparently I don't know how to use the microwave. It took a while, and tasted pretty bland, and left me hungry. It's going to be a long two weeks.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/14061821/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/14061821/ Tue, 07 Aug 2007 15:10:29 PDT
Time for a relatively intelligent rant - I haven't managed one of those in a while.

Let's start simple. The other day I was waiting for the bus, and it was busy. There was a big old queue so I ended up standing right where the bus door opens rather than going to the back of the queue, which would have been stupid. It's usually pretty easy to worm your way in, but this should only be done when it is really busy. Reminds me of the festival... Every year some 50,000 people descend upon the island for a weekend of music. At like 1am when everyone is drunk, the buses run free and cart people away from being in one spot, unless you're camping ofcourse. So imagine thousands of people trying to line up for this bus, and then imagine me casually strolling past to the front and being one of the first on. Along with a mate I hadn't seen in like a year who apparently had the same idea.

Anyway, I'm going off track. So I'm waiting for this bus and there's this old woman who is, to put it bluntly, retarded. I've seen her on the bus before and there are times when she's made me chuckle a little just from listening to her and her helper lady. Anyway the bus turns up and empties out it's passengers. The mental lady gets impatient and just wants to get on the bus, she doesn't understand the politeness and logistical sense of waiting. Her helper lady makes her wait.

There she stands watching people filter by with a grimace of disdain, myself right behind her, being gradually nudged back onto the road as she shuffles around annoyed. She has a funny voice, for the record, it just sounds... funny. She's basaically grumbling about everyone that walks past, including one evidently stressed woman with like three kids who is fruitlessly trying to open her folded pram. Suddenly this woman announces "Shoot the lot of 'em." in her quaint little uneven voice. Her helper told her that was rude, while I stifled laughter.

Somehow I felt that I was being rude by laughing at her, all because she knows no different or whatever excuse she has. But really, what excuse is that? If this woman were not a little bit messed up in the head (I can't be bothered to find polite euphemisms, not now) she would have been stabbed. She was so selfish it was ridiculous. She was, in fact, spoilt. I doubt very much that that woman has worked a single day in her life, or really benefitted anyone.

Would someone please then explain to me the logic behind the initial instinct to defend this woman. She is quite literally a burden on society, harsh as it may sound. Sure, she makes a job for her helper lady, but that's it. I know if you bothered to read this far you're thinking I'm a horrible person, but seriously ask yourself why. If the woman was not disabled (That's more polite, right?) would you give her the time of day? Ultimately her excuse for all her detriments is that she is mentally ill. Is that a good enough excuse?

Maybe she doesn't know any better, but why should I care? Why would I be labelled the bad guy if I had decided to defend myself from her tirade of insults? (Yes, she did turn around and insult me aswell, just for being there and because she didn't know who I am) This was a grown woman, she must be about 50, its not like some child learning social norms. Is it her fault? No, I'm not saying that, I understand that she doesn't understand. I can accept that, but why should we tiptoe around her?

The fact is she is (and this will sound horrible) tainted. Broken. If she were something you had bought on ebay, you'd send her back and get a refund. So why is she more important than me? Why does she get all these benefits at my expense (if I were paying tax, that is) Why is she granted such an easy life?

Because she has a problem. You know what, I haven't heard of anyone who's gone for some psychoanalysis and found they didn't have a problem. Maybe this is just psychiatrists finding work but it seems everyone is a mess. People have problems, lots of them, but perhaps if she hadn't been coddled so much she would have learnt to cope. She could have been useful, or at the very least been able to interact with society politely. Instead she's been treated like a child for her entire life but never told to grow up.

Admittedly I don't know her, I don't know her life story. I don't know how she lives her life or what is wrong with her, so I'm making unfair assumptions about her. Even still the point is the same. But perhaps you're wondering by now, just what is the point?

The point is, in this world where everyone is supposed to be given an equal chance in life, I say she has been given more than her fair share. She isn't expected to do anything but live her life, if I tried to do that I'd be called lazy and told to get a job. Then again I would die, because I don't get a helper lady to spoo... ]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13913395/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13913395/ Sat, 28 Jul 2007 11:41:13 PDT
Apparently I forgot to ramble about the buses. They're brilliant. Why? Because people are so pathetic, but also funny. People are interesting and terrifying at the same time. People are diverse, and people travel by bus.

These aren't rich people ofcourse, these people don't have cars for various reasons. These are the sorts of people you will only ever meet on the bus, or when drunk.

Today I saw two guys on the bus with ginger hair (need I say more?) big bushy sideburns (one of them was also attempting a proper beard) and they also looked a little like elijah wood aka frodo. One had his t-shirt tucked into his jeans and the t-shirt said something like Amsterdam red light district. The other guy's t-shirt proclaimed "Harry Porno". As I said earlier, there are people both funny and scary. I cannot picture anyone less likely to get laid, they were just such stereotypical geeks. The fact they obviously went to Amsterdam doesnt surprise me much either, everyone gets desperate eventually.

A little while ago there was a drunk guy who spoke to me for like half an hour. He had just got out of prison and was going to visit a friend here in our local maximum security prison. He seemed friendly enough, but still when he asked me to go for a drink with him I made my excuses.

I heard a girl talking to her mum. I say heard, I mean eavesdropped. Although bus conversations are hardly private are they. They had been for a meal, and the daughter (15years old?) had paid. She said it was nice to do something for her mum for once. Talk about a perfect daughter. The mum then got a phone call and started talking to some person loudly about how the person who phoned was going to move away and she shouldnt feel guilty about leaving her.

Today there was a girl I swear used to go to my school. That would make her 18. She was mothering this girl so badly it was clear she actually was the mother of this child, and the kid must have been 5 or 6. That was weird.

Little while ago I saw a guy die on the bus, but I didn't have time to stop and stare because my next bus was about to leave. Speaking of which, last week a couple of people went out on a boat locally. They got caught in a storm, the guy died en route to hospital and the girl was lost. They found the girl yesterday afternoon. Yesterday morning, and also this morning, I had dived that exact same area. Slightly disturbing. The body would have been disgusting, really bad to find.

Speaking of diving, the boss lady today mentioned that I could get some paid work. I should be finishing my Divemaster course in the next week or two (early August) she suggested the possibility of me working with them in late august through september. That would be pretty fantastic, I think. Obviously I said I'd be happy to do it, but we didn't talk about it properly. If I take this chance to put my actual qualification to the test and earn some money then I've got that added bit of experience I can brag about when I look for work abroad, or even some shit job locally. If I do end up working here through the winter then the Divemaster would be an excellent asset.

Also, if I ever do go on to teach English in Ghana or Peru or wherever I decide, Divemaster gives me that added experience of teaching and leading people. Then eventually I'd also like to go onto doing some technical diving (basaically diving which is more technical and allows you to do more, go deeper etc, though at greater risk of course) I'd really love to do cave diving, there's just no caves around here so I can't even try it. But a non-technical diver is only supposed to go 40m into a cave, while the tec guys just do what they want.

Ah, I also want to go to Greenland some day. That leads to Ice diving, people even dive in Antarctica, another place I wouldn't mind trying. Apparently the ice can be really beautiful in its completely natural form below the surface.

Anyway, I've drifted into diving again. It takes up too much of the day, I'm not even reading like I used to anymore. Sucks, sorta.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13873172/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13873172/ Wed, 25 Jul 2007 11:33:17 PDT
So that's that - I'm digging out my old little notebook which managed to keep a few pages left, and I'm not putting it away again. Ever.

I don't know if I said this before, so I'll say it now. The new Linkin Park album "Minutes To Midnight" is fantastic. My gut reaction was "shit, this aint linkin park! This sucks!" But having given it some more time I realise that even though it's different to their traditional stuff, its all really good. Linkin Park are actually one of the greatest bands ever. Sincerely.

If you're wondering why I said "Sincerely" go and watch a film called Stand By Me. It's brilliant.

Women are quite miraculous creatures. A little while ago a girl came into the dive shop and I was speaking to her for a bit, after she left a guy warned me that she was basaically a spoilt brat. But to me, she seemed alright. Yesterday I was taking her out for a dive so she could get her navigation speciality done. She's a little younger than me, but frankly, though politely, she's rather attractive. She kitted up all her gear and stuck 6 kilograms of weight into her BCD. Somehow she then convinced me to carry her gear down to the beach whilst wearing my own, also carrying the SMB (buoy) + reel, my fins and mask. I very nearly did it, til the boss told me not to, basaically, and so she stuck it on her back up there like I had.

I was amazed that I nearly did it. when we finally got into the water it turned out she didn't have enough weight. New wetsuits are extra bouyant and she couldn't get down. So I grabbed her some more, struggled to strap that onto her, and then because it was causing her to topple backwards (because of where I had HAD to put the weight on her back) I then had to muck about and change that about. So finally we got her under the water, and she couldn't equalize. She was having some trouble with her ears and it was too painful for her even to get down the 3 metres of water we were in. But I wasn't annoyed. In the end after about half an hour pissing about with this girl I helped her out and swam like a dervish over to an instructor with two young lads to help him out with them. Such is the masochistic duty of a Divemaster (trainee).

My original point was: this spoilt bitch had me running in circles to sort her out, and I wasn't slightly annoyed. Tomorrow I'm going over to Pompey (Portsmouth) to dive and there's this one girl going who is pretty fit. Suffice to say I'd be happy enough stalking her. I am quite looking forward to tomorrow, just hope the weather doesn't ruin it all. And she doesn't get me following her about wide-eyed and drooling.

Weather lately has been ridiculously bad. England is flooded and the diving is made a little difficult, and lets face it, right now, diving is my life. I was supposed to have tomorrow off but since I'm not I'm not even sure I'll get a day off this week at all. But I don't care about that either. This Divemaster lark is great. With any luck I'll be spending my winter in the sun, diving.

It's hilarious when I consider that a few months ago I was worried I'd lose contact with everyone from school. The fact is I have, and I don't care one bit. Sure I see my really good mates when I can, and will be meeting some guys tonight, but it's certainly different.

A while ago I heard a story about this new dinosaur they found - the Gigantoraptor! Thanks to digging out my old notebook, I've remembered it! three cheers for the power of a pen and paper. Anyway, check it out. [link] because everyone loves dinosaurs. Without exception. You know its true.

Anyway, I think thats it. God alone knows what I've rambled about. But it gave me something to do. If there's one thing I do miss since having most of the day taken away from me by diving - its my writing. I don't get time to write anything, at least not properly. Even something like this helps me keep my sanity.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13831354/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13831354/ Sun, 22 Jul 2007 09:22:52 PDT
I've said before that people are supposed to be selfish and protect themselves. Perhaps I've even said that that is why we exist, that people who honestly live to help are liars. Then why do people help each other? It can't be just to impress people, today's events dispute that idea.

We were diving off the boat and, long story short, I ran out of air. Fool of fools! I basaically watched it run out, but there were other things to focus on. Anyway, we were pretty deep and had to make a safety stop for three minutes at five metres depth on the way up. Don't worry about why, or we'll be here all day. On the way up I began to feel some rather noticable resistance in the tubes. My gauge read 0, and, basaically, I had no air to breathe. I grabbed my buddy before it went much further and made the signal - out of air. He hesitated only a moment, and gave his second regulator to me. By now my breaths were short and sharp, I couldn't get anything larger out of the tank.

I replaced my regulator with his and felt the cool air on the back of my neck, blasting back the building panic that I can never seem to lose when I have nothing to breathe in the murk of cold English waters.

Sorry, I said this would be short, didn't I?

We did our safety stop and reached the surface together like a perfectly orchestrated buddy team should. I had no air when we broke through the waves, and he was on 15 bar (you're supposed to head up on 50) We had pretty much pushed the boundaries of recreational diving. On the surface now, all we did was smile at each other. At the ludicrousy of it, at the well executed ascent, and at the fact that it had been a great dive. He said to me then, as the boat's engines roared into life and began to spear towards us, "We probably shouldn't tell the others about that." and then we laughed.

So, on telling a mate about this, he asked me for some reason "didn't he have a choice?" Yes he had a choice, I told him, he could have just swam off and left me with the final dribbles of life I had in my tank. But you just don't do that.

You don't do that. Why not? Because you look after people. That's what life is about. It's so very easy to say, or rather type, while I'm sat here in front of a screen, that saving lives only aids overpopulation. That perhaps sometimes we do too much for people. But, realistically, you just dont leave people like that.

The fact is my logic makes plentiful sense, I've been assured that several times. But logic does not take into consideration the complexities of humanity. Logic relies on the fact that people do not have emotions. Logic only works when people live by logic.

Since we don't, I have to do more thinking. I don't understand anything, not really. I've always thought that "life isn't black and white." yet I suppose I haven't really shown it. I thought I was smart, but my knowledge just isn't realistic. My knowledge is based on books, the classroom, and too much internal thinking. Not enough external seeing.

Where are the answers?

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13741255/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13741255/ Sun, 15 Jul 2007 06:29:37 PDT
I've begun to think lately that I hate alot of my friends. Perhaps hate is a bit strong, but some of them shouldn't really be called friends. It only leads to increase my nostalgia, but if I met my friends of the past, I'm not so sure they'd be as great as I remember.

Having said that, the people I really respect and appreciate these days are those who I have known for a long time, even if I didn't always get on well with them. I don't see them as much anymore which makes things difficult, but I know that if I had to I could count on them.

At the same time there are still those people I begin to realise I don't want to be around. Just people I could have a short laugh with, and move on. The point is change. People I still like have changed, grown up. People I dislike either haven't, or have changed in a very poor direction.

The one resounding trait of these people is apparent immaturity. I mean, there is a difference between having fun and being childish. As I said before, perhaps I just spent too much time growing up. Perhaps I'm too serious, but I don't think so. Arrogant as it may sound, I think I'm doing fine.

The Divemaster course is going well and I'm really enjoying it. I've met some great people, helped alot of them just as much as people have been helping me and I think earned myself at least a little respect from some of them. My diving and knowledge of dive theory has definitely improved, but really I think the main point of a divemaster is positioning. Yesterday I was assisting an instrctor with some guys just off the shore and while swimming out to where its a bit deeper the instructor and majority of the students led the way. I stayed back with one student who was a little slower and having some trouble keeping up. I'm sure she would have been fine anyway, but there are multiple benefits to not leaving someone behind, even just to make them feel like they aren't being left behind. I suppose its a sort of strange ego boost to know that you're helping someone.

Anyway, I don't really know what I was rambling about before, so I'll end.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13549935/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13549935/ Sat, 30 Jun 2007 09:39:07 PDT
[link]

I love the line "She read goosebumps" I suspect he didn't mean it how I took it, but it reminded me of the old goosebumps books... They were great. If it was a second meaning, then well done that man!

Anyway... I have a cure for AIDS. This time lets assume I rule Africa. It doesn't matter how I got there (those plans are secret...) and lets also forget that HIV/AIDS is also prevalant in other countries. There are drugs out there called antiretroviral drugs that can prevent AIDS being transferred from mother to child during birth. Simple as that. The plan is not to cure AIDS but to let it die out. The difficulty however, as in war, is all about logistics and organisation.

This is why I need to rule the entire continent. First things first you need to improve education for everybody and give out free condoms, basaically teach everyone that having sex without one is bad. very bad. Communications, transport and police forces would have to be improved throughout so that this could be enforced.

After all that you need to build and improve hospitals throughout the continent, bring in foreign doctors and nurses to work there, and the improved education would also bring them in locally. I'd even get all these cure for AIDs charities to pool their cash and give it to me to sort it properly. Then there would be the law. THE law. Let's call it law 412 (just for fun?)

With improved communications, transport (roads) security and education law 412 would be followed religiously. Say this is implemented in 2050. ALL pregnant women are required to take these drugs to prevent HIV/AIDS being passed on to their children. They'd be paid to take them or something, give some major incentive so that nothing stops them. Even oppressive husbands will want that money.

Part of law 412 is that nobody born after 2050 is allowed to have sexual intercourse with anyone born before 2050. The improved education will help here, and anyone who breaks this law is imprisoned. People will also be taught not to spread their blood around, and not to touch anyone whos bleeding. Just get the local doctor (who will be available because now theres lots of them) and thats it.

I predict that by 2150 (if all goes to plan) law 412 may be forgotten and HIV/AIDS will be negligible in Africa. Of course some will slip by the net, but numbers will be significantly lower. What about rape, you ask? In eastern provinces of the Democratic Republic of Congo more people have died through conflict than since world war two. The majority of these from curable diseases, including of course AIDS. Women and girls are raped and cannot avoid the disease. For more on that read this [link] bearing in mind it was written in 2004 and though officially the war has ended that does not make it a nice place to live.

Anyway went off track there. My point is, AIDS would prevail, law 412 would not be perfect, and it would require the investment of the entire world and according to my foolish guess take 150 years to take effect. Naturally there are other problems in the world that need to be faced. Still, people say there is no cure for AIDS, but there is.

There is however the other argument that AIDS is a "good thing". There isn't that much room in this world, and the population is growing fast. According to Malthus' theory/prediction there will be wars and diseases and starvations to prevent us from going over the limit and being unable to sustain the human population. Though there are plenty of arguments about what he said and why he said it, thats a whole other thing. My point being that if you look at these things from certain angles, even bad things are good.

Wow this feels like an essay... I guess i'm already having withdrawal symptoms from finishing school. Even though it doesnt feel like I've finished... Well, if you've read this far you deserve a reward! And if you've read this far you're probably mature enough to take this song as funny rather than insulting.

[link]

Absolutely fantastic that one I think. Though I do find it funny that all the comments made are positive, while his other songs get at least a few "you're gay" comments and such... Maybe because people who would usually say that, agree with the song.

You know what, thats enough. I start my divemaster course this coming week... So that should be interesting. Hopefully not too tiring. Its going to take me about 1hr 30mins to get from here to the shop each day, and... ]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13408172/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13408172/ Tue, 19 Jun 2007 14:24:32 PDT [link]

I love break. And I love linking. And that video helps to define why I hate WoW. Love the ending especially with the guys talking and then the kid just like "I'm going to bed now" Yes... yes we know... Turn off your mic next time.

Oh, and this one is just hilarious. Because 300 was the biggest letdown of the century (but dont get me started on THAT) [link]

Anyways... Memory is a strange thing, isn't it? How does it work? Why does it exist? It's so much more advanced than just remembering "Sharp things hurt. Don't touch sharp things." How do you remember people? Why are some people forgotten, even though you want to remember them?

You hear some people claim they don't want to be forgotten. I think I'm more afraid of forgetting than being forgotten. Maybe because I already have a bad memory, maybe because I've grown accustomed to being forgotten. Whatever the reason, there are so many things I want to remember. But maybe thats the problem, I'm trying to remember too much. How do you decide what you forget? Indeed, how do you actively pick out in your memory what to destroy and what to keep locked away? It's not like saving a word document.

I think the greatest thing about memory is that moment when you remember someone you thought you had forgotten. Or rather, you had effectively forgotten them since to think you've forgotten someone requires remembering them. Back to the point: As soon as you remember them you realise you did not forget at all. It's that sudden realisation that someone exists, and they were your friend. Or whoever. I like that. Of course it wouldn't be nearly as effective if you hadn't at least partially forgotten in the first place but... I guess its the possibility of having lost something, but avoiding a complete loss of that memory. It's like you've succeeded to retain that memory. You've won. Everyone likes winning.

Or maybe its just me. But I love to remember. I like just to sit and remember. I like to sit and think. I like to sit and imagine and just let my mind wander. That's the reason I have trouble writing anything. Or rather, finishing anything. I start not knowing where I'm going but once I work out where I'm going my mind races ahead, faster than my fingers can type. It's a lost cause.

Then I end up writing something like this, a simple list of my wandering thoughts, really. This is my monologue. The greatest part of it is the music in the background which often fits so perfectly in to what I'm thinking.

Where was I... Memory! With the prospect of losing so many of my friends creeping ever closer I start to wonder who I will forget. I don't want to forget anyone. But I already have, actually. I've been running into people that already left school who I didn't know very well and not recognising them. I wish I had gotten to know more people. Trouble was that back then, in school, people were pricks. Now, strangely, everyone seems to have become a nice person. How is that? Or maybe its just that I've spoken to them properly. Perhaps it was my prejudices that made them look bad...

I'm thinking I might start keeping a diary. A proper one, this here journal is just some place I ramble, always conscious that other people may read it. I think a proper paper diary would help me stop forgetting things, even help me organise my life, sort my thoughts. I try not to talk about myself too much, especially to people I'm close to. Online I can manage it mostly, but with my closest friends I tend to bottle things up. I dont know why. A diary might be a good place to put down my feelings. I think a good time to start would be when my exams are over. At the start of my 'new life', so to speak.

Whats also interesting is that I've found myself getting closer to my dad, which is nice. When I was younger I never saw him much, he was always working. Now that my mum works aswell he's able to take a few days off every week. Since we dive together, rarely with other people this year, in fact, never this year. It's just been us so far, though we have ran into other people en route and such. Anyway yeah since we dive together just the two of us we get some alone time for a bit of father-son bonding. its good.

I've still got a bunch of things I was going to ramble about... Maybe tomorrow. Exams are finished for the rest of this week, start again on monday, so that gives me some time off from any major studying.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13353281/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13353281/ Fri, 15 Jun 2007 08:27:43 PDT
[link]

Just a few other things, since I'm here. We got a proper underwater camera so, if I can find some decent photos to take, might put some up on here. Was going to go for a dive this morning and play around with it but the conditions were less than ideal so we didn't bother. Ofcourse, now the sun is shining and the wind died down and, although the water will be all riled up and the visibility crap, its looking alot better that it was earlier. Wouldve liked to gone in now, but its too late really, still it wasnt a complete waste we scouted out a couple of different places to dive and should be going Sunday, weather permitting. But its forecasted to rain all day Saturday so who knows what will actually happen. This is why English gentlemen typically always carry umbrellas. This is England.

This is England - good film. Watch it. I also watched Requiem for a Dream the other day, at long last. Another very good one, watch that too. Both perfect for a rainy day.

Anyway, pub later. Drink. Good.

Farewell

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13228604/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13228604/ Tue, 05 Jun 2007 13:58:08 PDT
It was actually a few weeks ago now that I watched a dispatches program about women in Afghanistan. As we all know, they were oppressed under the Taliban government, which was removed in 2001 by NATO troops. But lets not go into THAT whole thing. Lets just stick with the women, and the beautiful thing that is dispatches.

Personally I was under the impression that with the taliban gone and Afghanistan, at least to my mind, relatively stable things had gotten better. I mean, I hadn't heard anything about it in a while. The most I heard about Afghanistan was that there was intense fighting in the south (no change there then) and british forces were undersupplied (same as usual) but that was just the south, right? The rest of the country was fine. That's true, supposedly in the north, where this program was based for obvious reasons, the war was easy to forget. The effects of what it represented however, were not. So how had we missed it all?

I'm not just going to prattle on about this one program, granted it only looked at one side of things, and one topic. But I found it particularly disturbing that Afghan women, wives mostly, were setting themselves on fire in order to escape their husbands. It was pretty horrific to see their scarred bodies, knowing that they did it to themselves, knowing that they hadn't escaped anything by doing so.

The highlight of the program for me had to be an 11 or 12 year old girl. Maybe 13, its not important. What is important is that her father sold her into marriage at the age of 7 (her husband at this point looked about 30, so he would have been about 25 at the time. But lets look past that, shall we.) Thats a hard thing to come to terms with for any child in normal circumstances, but she was so ill-treated and abused that at the age of 11 she, like many other women, set herself alight. She survived, and, as far as I know, is still with her husband now. It's even more worrying when you really think: these are real people. They aren't just on the tv, where is the girl now? What's she doing?

During the advert break there was a particular advert that made me laugh hysterically, yet it wasnt funny in the slightest. It was just plain depressing, really. In this particular advert some people build an entire car out of cake. Bloody hundreds of cakes, miles of icing, what looked like jelly brake lights... Is it just me, or does that seem so fucking stupid? At any other time the advert would have been "cool" because it is quite an achievement, it looked realistic, but still... Aren't there more important things?

Where I live (an island, already pretty eco-friendly since we're out of the way and relatively isolated, they try out new things here sometimes. They crush a bunch of our waste into little pellets that are burnt for energy, so our rubbish powers all the street lights) they wanted to build some nice new eco-friendly wind turbines. They even make wind turbines just a few miles down the road from where I now sit. These turbines, like 5 of them or something ridiculously small, would generate enough power for about a third of the entire island. Personally I think they should have stuck down enough to power everything on this island. But they didn't. Not a single turbine graces our windy hills. Why, you ask? Because some old people thought they didn't look nice. About 75% of this island is considered areas of outstanding natural beauty, meaning you cant build much there. Which means this was the only spot they could be put on, legally. And a stupidly large amount of our small population here is very old. Very very old. It sucks to be a teenager. Anyway, the old farts complained to the council that it would be noisy/ugly and whatever other crap, and even though there were huge petitions from all over the island far outnumbering the votes of these few old fuckers, they didn't build them.

It's ridiculous. Wether our emissions actually contribute to climate change or not, renewable energy is a very worthwhile goal. Surely there are things more important than a few old people, soon to die and forget about us all, thinking something looks ugly as they look out of the window of their retirement homes or broken down farms? They don't have to live with it in the future. We do. Who matters more? I mean, respect your elders and all that, but they can just piss off this time. This my friends is why democracy does NOT work. Just give me complete control, and I will get things done!

One thing I would do for certain is bring back national service. This has nothing to do with bulking up our armies as it originally did, this is... ]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13197507/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13197507/ Sun, 03 Jun 2007 03:46:21 PDT
anyway, here is the video, make sure you watch it: [link]

Firstly I gotta say the music is fantastic and really makes that video... fantastic. Personally, I'm inspired by it. What is interesting however is that the break guys who put it up describe it as being a failed attack on a humvee where the attackers got hit by their own shrapnel. Well, thats a lie. You can quite clearly see at the end one guy running back with his fist in the air, exultant at his victory I would assume. To begin with it looks like hes off balance but the fact he keeps his arm in the air tells me he is sort of celebrating.

The comments complain that its not a molotov cocktail and I completely agree. First of all the break guys spelt it moltov, its molotov. Secondly, the thing he throws is not alight, imagine throwing a bottle of petrol at something. If its not lit, the humvee's just going to get wet. If he had lit it, you would have seen it. I think its also worth noticing that there were two thrown, the second being from someone further back off screen, but you can clearly see it flying through the air.

Now, as for the attack failing... thats bull shit. Watch carefully, pause it when you need to. I've watched this video several times now and I'm very confident that the humvee stops after flying forward a bit further. Near the end of the video the camera aims up a bit but right at the end it goes down far enough that you can see the black shape of the damaged humvee no longer moving. What happened to those inside, I have no idea.

There were suggestions in the comments that it was a RKG-3 anti-armour grenade. wikipedia confirms that they have been used in Iraq before and this video [link] shows a very similar explosion from an RKG-3. That settles it for me. The most interesting thing in that video is that the humvee is quite clearly destroyed with a single explosion. Ok, you cant see the aftermath, but i'd say it aint pretty.

So thats basaically my longwinded explanation of that video. Again, the music makes it very inspiring to me and I find it sweetly ironic and completely ludicrous that the american website break.com has mislabelled and apparently attempted (by clearly not watching the video very closely, as they so often do) to turn this into pro-american propaganda, when it was clearly pro-insurgent propaganda to begin with. The most interesting thing being that some of the comments then say basaically "lets kill iraqis"

That leads me nicely onto the word insurgent. Now, I've been studying english language A level for the last two years but even without that I think I'd still hate that word. Or rather, its use in the media today. The term insurgent to me means terrorist, and I do not believe these iraqis are terrorists. Its all a point of view really, if communist china invaded britain or america to remove democracy because they didnt like it, would we not fight back?

wikipedia (again) tells us this: According to United States Department of Defense Joint Publication (JP) 1-02, Dictionary of Military and Associated Terms, an insurgency is defined as an organized movement aimed at the overthrow of a constituted government through use of subversion and armed conflict.

An insurgency differs from a resistance both in its political overtones and in the nature of the conflict: an insurgency connotes an internal struggle against a standing, established government, whereas a resistance connotates a struggle against invading or occupying foreign forces and their collaborators.

Now that is interesting. It would seem to me that these "insurgents" are not fighting against an established government, but rather an occupying force. Would you not agree? Is the US army in iraq now an established government? They stand for the new iraqi government yes, but its the attacks on troops that we're always hearing about.

I don't pretend to understand the reasons these people have for throwing devastating grenades at humvees, I don't pretend to understand them at all. Nor do I think its a good thing, far from it. But the label we give to them is unfair and false. It would be alot easier if we were so selfish as to believe that only we are right, that anyone who opposes us is the bad guy and that we are right in killing them. Therefore they are insurgents. But the world is not that simple, erveryone has different motives derived from different lives and everyone has the right to voice their op... ]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13000471/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/13000471/ Fri, 18 May 2007 12:04:52 PDT
Ahem, anyway. It seems I may have a career path opening its arms to embrace me. Naturally, it has no relevance to the ten years I spent in compulsory education, and is so different to the last two years I've spent doing A levels that I wonder why I bothered at all. Well, apart from the added benefit of wasting a couple of years sat on my arse. Anyway, I speak ofcourse about diving. There is the possibility that starting as soon as I finish my exams (like a month and a half from now) I could be working, though unpaid, helping out on dives and at the shop, earning much needed experience to put on my CV, but also more importantly leaping to the rank of divemaster in just a month, from where, with another month's commitment, I could become an assistant instructor and from there ofcourse the possibilities are limitless, I could work full time diving, earn more qualifications to increase my employability in the underwater world. I could end up descending thirty metres a day into the deep to explore long forgotten wrecks and ruins beneath the mystical shimmering of the sea's surface. You might be able to tell I'm a little excited about the prospect.

I'm going to take a day or two to think about it more, but ultimately, what is there to think about? This is a really good opportunity that could boost me into a career. Sure, I wouldn't be earning anything financially for a while, but think of it more as added schooling. I could find myself in a full-time job I'd love in a few months time, and on my way up. It's the kind of qualification that will throw me into the beautiful areas of the world, while going on to study English Literature for a few years at university would leave me several thousand £'s in debt and without any serious job prospects.

Ofcourse, this is all incredibly premature, I do need to think about it more and I do need to talk to them about it more, but potentially, this could be the most important step in my life to date. It could put me into something fantastic, without me ever having to really search for it. I'm a lucky guy. All I have to do is take advantage of the opportunity that has presented itself.

Anyway, enough blabbing. Perhaps it will all turn out to be nothing. Perhaps. Perhaps I'll find it's not for me. Perhaps. But perhaps this really could be the starting point of something incredible. Perhaps...

I shall allow myself to hope.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/12824367/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/12824367/ Thu, 03 May 2007 05:41:25 PDT
I got home today and found a letter from the government. How important am I? It was clearly a mass produced thing but it said my name like five times in each sentence (obviously trying to make me feel important) it was set out like a newspaper and basaically told me I'm old enough to vote. Which is pretty cool, maybe it sounds weird but I'm looking forward to voting. I need to do some research on all the different parties before hand ofcourse but even that will be interesting. yeah, I'm a loser.

So, old enough to vote. You know what that means, don't you? I turned 18 a couple weeks ago, 23rd of April. That also means I'm old enough to drink alcohol, and get married and stuff but most importantly, booze. I got completely trashed that monday night and more appropriately the friday following. It's great to finally be legal and it was a decent opportunity to catch up with some mates I haven't seen in a while. The pub truly is the center of society.

In other news its five weeks until my A level exams begin, and two weeks after that, it'll all be over. I finally face the end of all things, after these timed and rushed essays itll all be over and ill be heading out to make a life for myself. That is, after a summer of excessive drinking and non-stop parties before my mates head off to university.

Anyway, I've finished my lunch so I'm going to make myself a cold drink and begin writing. Unfortunately its too hot right now for a cup of tea, especially since I've just had some chilli heatwave doritos (mmmm). But I'm committed to devoting my afternoon (this glorious sun-filled afternoon) to sitting here typing. Perhaps before the day is out I will finally have submitted something new. Don''t bet on it. But I'm sure I'll have something up soon, patched together between frantic sessions of revising for exams and getting pissed.

For now, I bid you all adieu.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/12432842/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/12432842/ Mon, 02 Apr 2007 15:38:50 PDT
I've watched Donnie Darko four or five times before, but never understood it. It's incredibly complex and you know what, I still dont understand. Not really. Even now, five minutes after it's ended I'm beginning to forget all the fantastic messages it put across to me as I watched. There is so much in there, even relatively small characters play such a massive part. Donnie Darko is by no means insane (as I concluded after first watching the film years ago, not wanting to have to confuse myself further) perhaps he is in fact the only sane one around.

Did Donnie Darko choose to die? Did he go back in time to die because life would have been better that way? Did he have a choice at all, or was it all part of his fate, his curse being that he could see it happening? I don't think this film has any of the answers to the questions it poses, and thats what I love. It's not more of the simplistic crap with extremist CGI that usually plagues my screen. Donnie Darko truly is unique, and every single conversation and every single scene opens up new ideas, new perspectives. Though some of it is just funny. It's funny how twisted and confused the world is. Mostly just confused. Therefore you could say that Donnie Darko is an incredibly realistic film, because its so confusing.

If anyone should even read this, I don't want to discuss what the film is really about. I think everyone needs their own viewpoint, and the film confuses me so much and leaves me thinking so much that I really cant put out a clear sentence because I will never understand my own thoughts. I remember discussing the film with a friend ages ago, he came up with an option which he had read on the internet. I dismissed it, because I didn't want to know someone elses idea. I wanted to work it out. Even though tomorrow morning I'll look back and think "What the hell?" While physically watching it I was more perceptive than I ever have been of this particular movie. As I've said before, there is so much to it, and if you've seen the deleted scenes on the DVD, there's even more there. But now I know why it was omitted. Because, despite it's intelligence, it didn't contribute to the storyline enough, and that's sad, because there was a great discussion about rabbits.

On that note, I should say that Frank (the rabbit) still scares the hell out of me. That suit is just freaky. But he and all the other characters are fabulous, and the acting cannot be beaten. If you haven't seen the film then I've just confused you, so go and watch it. Now. You won't regret it.

But hey, my faith is restored in good films. 300 really pissed me off, there was so much possibility there, but then I go back to films like Donnie Darko and I realise... Quality is a rare thing, but when you find it, it makes up for all the other crap.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/12405557/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/12405557/ Sat, 31 Mar 2007 17:49:46 PDT
I watched Apocalypto earlier. Another film I had been looking forward to (and only now got around to watching... if I'm honest, I actually forgot about it!) It started out really strong and I thought to myself "This I like. This I like alot." But as the movie progressed I must say it went downhill. It became too unbelievable, and I don't mean in a good sense, I mean unrealistic. I just started to think "What are you doing? This is stupid." It's not that it wasnt necessarily historically inaccurate in any way, it was just the plot.

I've been feeling that way alot lately, about movies in particular. They are not believable in the slightest. Thats hollywood for ya. Like Blood Diamond... that could have been a great film, but instead it focussed on the yank with the really bad and constantly changing south african accent, leonardo dicaprio. It was about him, his heroism, his feelings, and his american girlfriend. He was shooting people while they missed him, and dont forget the bloody helicopter! what was that about?! All I can say about the African guy is this: Noble Savage. That's all he was, the character had no depth, no personality, just your typical stereotype.

Anyway, where was I? Yeah, films are just a total letdown these days. Its all impossible action and sex. No realism. Nothing I can connect to and believe in. I like my action films, I like my wars, but I want a real war, a real fight. Alexander, theres a film I like. It may just be my unhealthy obsession with the man, but it was a good film. The battles were relatively accurate and the fights seemed real while at the same time the plot had some depth, even though they missed out ALOT of important stuff.

So... thats my complaining done. Films suck lately, and yet I want to keep watching more of them. I mean its not that they're bad but... I want perfect! I want to find some good ones, something that I cant criticise. I criticise way too much, heh. Maybe I should just accept that nothings perfect... But if you have a 20 billion dollar budget it should be perfect for christ sake!!

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/12080947/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/12080947/ Tue, 06 Mar 2007 13:22:52 PST
Anyway, enough of that. It's not important anyway, by the time it comes about the lot of you will be dead. I can assure you of that.... Let us move on, but be warned for I know not what to and when I ramble (as I so rarely do, in truth) it can get messy. Still, I enjoy my ramblings, and so I shall continue from here.

Scroll up and thou wilst spy that my ears are filled with the tune I'm Lost Without You by Blink 182. It suddenly popped onto media player (which I have on shuffle) and brought up great memories. I havent heard this song in quite a while (damn you windows media player, shuffle properly!) but I love it. I don't know why. So I asked myself. Why? I shall quote some lyrics here to make a point:

Are you afraid of being alone
Cause I am, I'm lost without you
Are you afraid of leaving tonight
Cause I am, I'm lost without you

Thats about the sum of the song, it doesn't contain much more. So what is it that draws me to these words? For I do not believe it is simply the music, because the vocals are very present in this song and... I like 'em. So I ask myself, am I afraid of being alone? Yes, I suppose, but I think I cope with it far better than most people I know. But why is that? Because I have to? They say that necessity is the mother of invention. But being REALLY alone... I've never had that. How could I cope with it? I don't think I really could, and, therefore, I'm afraid of being alone, and I'm lost without you. Whoever you are.

I suppose that leads me quite nicely into Life of Pi (book) by Yann Martel. When I first picked it up and settled down to read I was intrigued and eager to see how the plot would be put together. The centre of the story effectively being that a boy (called Pi) who spends a long time stuck in a lifeboat, after the sinking of a transport ship, with a tiger. One boy and his Tiger. I wholeheartedly recommend it, and while I don't want to give anything away as I feel part of my enjoyment of it was simply not knowing at all what to expect from the book, I will say this: It's a very interesting read and the ending in particular really made me feel like the last 300 pages had been entirely worthwhile. The author touches on various subjects, but none more than Religion, and while he does not say anything so directly, I think he makes some very interesting points.

Oh, there's another thing. From a 300 page book to a film, simply titled 300. If you haven't heard of it yet... Where have you been hiding? It's out pretty soon and I'm really looking forward to it. "We will fight in the shade." Enough said.

Now then, another film I love: The Last of the Mohicans. I've finally gotten round to reading the book, but im in the very early stages and so I shall leave you now to delve further through its innards.

I'll see you in the future.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11895238/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11895238/ Tue, 20 Feb 2007 13:40:52 PST
Now, to business, shall we? Nay, for business is never enjoyable. To pleasure, then. Ah, yes, pleasure. We all need a little pleasure in our lives, be it from the quiet of a frost filled morning, the elegance of a beautiful woman, a good book, the quiet relaxing cup of tea, or even, should one be so inclined, pain. There are indeed so many sources of pleasure that our human minds are bamboozled with choice! What, then, is a person to do?

For, too much pleasure leads to idleness. So one must restrict oneself in such ways. Make not like the Spartans, but do not surround yourself with luxuries either. Take for example myself here today, I sit with a cup of tea in my warmed grip and a grand packet of mcvities chocolate digestives. I dip a biscuit into thus said brew, once, twice, but not thrice. No. Never thrice.

Yes, take for example myself. For I, my most wonderful audience, am a prime example of the perfect being, am I not?

Now, on to business, yes? Nay, for business is a private affair and, should I set myself to that task I must leave you already. Indeed I should, for others need my words as much as you. No, no, do not cry young friends, for I shall return. In some distant land in some distant day I shall return and I shall speak unto thee once more.

So live on, my most wonderful audience, in hope of that day.
And dream, dream away.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11684884/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11684884/ Sun, 04 Feb 2007 13:44:19 PST
I decided I haven't made a journal entry in a little while (what? a week?), so I will. However, arriving here with keyboard poised in my ready fingers I find myself without a thing to write. So let us travel on a journey into my world of words and see what adventures we may discover.

Bird flu. No, thats not what is commonly found when searching my mind, but it has been found in Britain at long last. It just goes to show you should never let your guard down, for as soon as you do the four horsemen will strike! Personally, I had almost forgotten about this impending doom of avian kind.

What more have I forgotten? What more do you remember of that tragic boxing day disaster, 2004? When was the last time you heard about current events concerning the "leftovers" of the tsunami?

Instead, lets follow that wondrous way down the path of doomsday. Better yet, here's an interesting term for your vocabulary: Domesday book (pronounced doomsday) This was an account employed by the king to effectively record the economic state of Britain at the time. Around 1100 if I remember rightly. Actually, one would assume it was employed first by King William the Conquerer wishing to discover more about his new nation. Indeed, he introduced many things. But I really cant be bothered to research the history of it, atleast not now.

History. Now there's another fantastic word. Not so much for the word itself but the meaning it creates. The great and vast world of History. Pre-history, even. I believe it is history that has shaped my entire being, and not in the obvious sense. Rather, in the sense of my learning.

I've always had a fascination with history. While maths was my strong point, it was history when I actually listened in lessons, back when lessons were compulsory. More and more I regret the decision not to study history at A level, but I digress. My searchings of history gave to me a knowledge of a great variety of things, since history encompasses everything in the world. Indeed, I would say history is the icon of the true academic, the learner. For what cannot, in some way, relate to history? Perhaps the most studied history revolves around wars (and what young boy is not drawn into that? as I was) but history itself is, in effect, a collection stories.

I spoke recently about not really knowing history, maybe it was all made up. Maybe alot was left out. How would you know? Just earlier today actually I learnt that the wicker man (a large hollow man made of wicker by celtic druids (religious men) and set on fire with a live person inside as a sort of sacrifice/respect to the gods) was only ever recorded by Julius Caesar. His are the only records that suggest this. So, is it true? As much as I would like to believe it is, without proof, what can you say?

But, be it from imagination or hard proven facts, these stories are our history. As Ian Irvine wrote in his quartet The View From The Mirror "History is as it is written." I love that quote. Similar to the idea that history is written by the victors (in war) so who cares about war crimes? Everyone commits them, so long as you win the war however, it doesn't matter.

But again I'm falling off track. History: a collection of stories. I learnt these stories, but in my youth I read alot less fiction than I do today. In fact I didn't read much at all in general. Now my reading and my writing, and my love of both, surely has spawned from an interest in antiquity.

Well, I should stop rambling and get to writing essays. I have long since finished my cup of tea, so lets hope the remainder of these biscuits last me long into the night, the munching overshadowing the incessant scratch of pen upon paper.

Until next time, I bid you farewell.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11578405/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11578405/ Fri, 26 Jan 2007 16:30:45 PST
I've noticed I've reverted to typing with solely my index fingers. I might use my left ring finger to hold shift for a capital letter, and actually sometimes i do experiment with the left, but in general I'm all about the index finger now. I was like this younger, then I got into typing properly. I don't know when I stopped lol. It feels slower though, and it kinda makes my finger ache, and the three other fingers even ache a bit as I hold them up away from the keyboard, on the right hand in particular. Tis weird.

Anyway, so it seems I dont have time for much anymore. I'm still unable to really get into Tides of War (book) but I did my last exam (for the next couple of months atleast) today so I can relax a little more. But at the same time I'm planning to try and get a job soon, which, assuming I can get one, will leave me with less time. I'll just have to rush things.

Thats something else with writing. Time management. Or rather, words per minute. I hear people complain that they spent like eight hours writing about twenty thousand words... So what? That's nothing, and frankly I believe if you're that quick its probably not much good. I just spent the last four or five hours to produce a grand total of... 2,468 words. Admittedly an hour or two of that should be removed due to distractions, and I did a fair bit of thinking about it aswell since I had nothing planned whatsoever. I'm sort've following a second piece follow-up, but we'll see if I have time for that. But yeah, when people say "this took me such and such amount of time." I usually think to myself "It probably sucks" Because writing is largely about re-writing, the first word you think of wont be the best. And if you go through it properly a couple times it should double the time frame, right?

Anyway, its just annoying when people state some minimalist time and complain as if its alot of time. Maybe I really am just slow, or maybe I'm a perfectionist, or maybe I'm jealous! But majority of the time, they should have taken longer. In my humble opinion.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11516696/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11516696/ Sun, 21 Jan 2007 11:06:04 PST
I've got no proof that this actually happened, I've been searching google for something agreeing but cant find it. Still, it got me thinking (as most things seem to do). Today's topic of internal debate was education, and knowledge itself.

What are we being taught? Is it correct? When did World War Two begin? 1820, for all I know. I wasn't there! Did it even happen? The modern world is full of conspiracy theories, do any of them suggest that our history books are lies? We look for proof and cross-referencing fine but... What if everyone is lying? What if everything I think I know is false? We've all been there, you argue about a spelling with someone because you KNOW you're right. Then someone whips out a dictionary and its like "oh... but I could've sworn..."

But that's only about the things we do know. Or rather, think we know. What about the things we don't know? The truth is there's alot more we don't know than what we do, as a collective. As individuals we know even less. So what are we missing? What is happening, or happened, that you know nothing about? Is it worse to not know something, or to think you know something which turns out to be wrong?

Knowledge is the key to all things. What do you know?

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11490791/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11490791/ Fri, 19 Jan 2007 07:01:31 PST
What is the topic for today? I have chosen to begin with someone I know. His name is Harry. He's a funny little guy, about three years old I believe. So my mum is a childminder, meaning the house is full of kids she looks after. I came home today after school and went to grab something to eat. He follows me round, smiling all the way and walking in his most unique style. He starts poking around with things, he grabs my hand and drags me off for no reason. He watches me for a while, and I try to make him laugh.

This is the sweetest kid you could ever meet. while some of the other kids my mum looks after just make me want to smack em (and I very nearly have with one in particular...) this guy just makes me happy. It was about a month ago or so that he first spoke to me. It was only a noise, but it was amazing. He's always smiling and he really makes me happier than anyone else can. It's sad to think that a year ago I probably would have looked at him and just thought "man that kid is weird." I think I understand why they call certain people special.

Anyway, so before I came home and started thinking about Harry I stopped by the shop, grabbed some wonderfully unhealthy sugary food and drink to help me focus tonight. Steven, dude, 74,800 words... Thisll take me a while to get through. I've heard it said, if I remember rightly which I usually dont, that a novel should be between 75,000 and 100,000 words. So, with minimal work I'm sure I can get you into that band Anyway, I plan to work on that tonight, and allow myself a long lie-in to make up for it.

While we're on the topic of writing, I have too much that needs finishing, and not enough that gets finished.

I have also been thinking of naturality. Is that a word? Probably not. Anyway, we look at a city or a block of flats and its easy to say "thats not natural" because the earth was not made that way, this is a man-made creation. It is, quite simply, wrong. But really, what makes up these buildings? A brick is simply a dried lump of clay or mud or something. Indeed, everything we use original comes from this world, even plastic has its roots in something natural. So really, what are we? Man is not a builder, rather he is a Changer. He takes something (perhaps a tree) and changes it into something else (perhaps a table) He hasn't made this, he has simply altered something else.

Therefore I would like to compare mankind to a young boy. Imagine a young boy who is given a watch for christmas. It is a beautiful creation, and he respects it. But after a while, he wants to know how it works. So the boy takes the watch apart, and puts it together again. However, now his watch does not tick. The boy now claims that he has made a watch, while some would say the boy has broken the watch, others might say that he has simply changed it into something else.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11432018/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11432018/ Sun, 14 Jan 2007 08:34:50 PST
For now, let us return to pirates, with a dabbling of the psychology. The other day there was a post on the forums over at Pirates of the Burning Sea, a developing MMO (www.burningsea.com) and in this post someone asked "why do you think pirates became pirates?" He made a poll in fact, and it offered such options as "for the adventure" and "for freedom from the government" and such nonsense. You know, all that stuff we soft modern people associate with the criminals of the sea.

I decided then and there that I would not click any of them. The reason pirates became pirates was simple: they had no other option. They were criminals through and through, not adventure-loving scallywags as johnny depp would have you believe. Imagine that tomorrow you wake up with the plague. People avoid you, disgusted. No one will help you. They are even afraid of you. That is like being a pirate.

Men became pirates because they needed to make a living, just the same as smugglers or the navy. Joining the navy would have been the decision of an upstanding citizen though, wouldnt it? Well, no. Joining the navy would have been the decision of a man who would prefer to follow orders, get paid next to nothing and live a life of danger. A pirate has all that aswell, with less orders and higher pay (if theyre a good pirate). These were desperate men, willing to do what it takes to get ahead in life. They were not out looking for adventure and a good time. Of course they weren't, you think its a good time out on the ocean in an old sailing ship? You've never been to sea, have you? It's hard, and in those days it was a whole lot worse with disease and the navy to contend with. They would have been at sea for months at a time, not landing for long, and there would have been no women on board. Just a bunch of rude, sweaty men.

So, these feared criminals have now become an icon of freedom and "sticking it to the man" in a sense. They did what they wanted, stealing from honest merchants and murdering any in their way, and rather than condemning them for it, we applaud them. Does that make sense to you? It doesnt to me. Consider the modern pirates that plague the waters of indonesia and thailand. Are they heroes? Nope.

Imagine if in 300 years time crime has been completely eradicated somehow maybe by the continuously improving surveillance. No one ever steals a thing. Will people look back at today and say "damn, those rapists and murderers were cool" Because they got out and did what they wanted? Because they had that freedom? The adventure to dodging police? Or would that just be wrong?

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11410187/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11410187/ Fri, 12 Jan 2007 13:20:28 PST Sedated nights to the bar room fights as metropolis takes its toll
And don't you try to stop me, it's a place you'll never know
Don't try to judge or take shots at me, I'll never let you seize control"

Yeah, ive become addicted to this song. Its now been playing for a couple of hours straight and I've been listening to little else the last few days. I cant work out why, but I don't get bored of it, and I love it.

Anyway, what else? My day's writing today took place with pen and paper. Shock, Horror! Who remembers what they are? I much prefer it in many ways, I dont know why. Maybe just because I was really just making notes and it feels more note-like with a pen in my hand. Anyway, thats me preparing a bunch for a world I have in the works that should be the setting of many a tale. In fact, I've already begun many a tale in this world and have ideas for others. Still, it needs more work since much of it is lacking names. I hate naming stuff. Its hard. But I think its coming along well.

At the same time however I'm trying to find more time for reading, I don't do it enough. Currently reading "The Zombie Survival Guide" by Max Brooks which is um... interesting. But as I say, havent had the time to properly get into it yet.

Why haven't I had time? School. The bastards. Too much work to do, I'm really behind now and I need to catch up. I also had an exam re-sit yesterday which... well, it didnt go well. When it started there was a massive storm outside (which was distracting) and funnily enough when time ran out the sun was shining through the window. Symbolism at its best. Oh, and one other thing that ruins me. Star Wars Galaxies. Shake thy head in disgust.

Star Wars Galaxies, or SWG for short, is an MMORPG I played for nearly two years (seriously) and stopped playing over a year ago after the developers introduced new updates that frankly ruined it. Well, a friend (who I conveniently met on this game) convinced me to give it another try. Its not as good as it was by any means, and there are certainly less people playing, but... I dunno, I kinda like it. Which is annoying because I dont want to get back into that. Still, it'll be a laugh to play casually for a little while, its not so addictive as it was because its not as good as it was.

I've also looked more at Pirates of the Burning Sea, an up and coming MMO that I really like the look of. If only they'd let me beta test it...

Ok, I don't think I wanted to say anything else... Actually I did, I have lots to say I just cant remember it... so I'll finish up with some more lyrics from Trashed and Scattered by Avenged Sevenfold.

"And my body's trashed and low, but to you I'll never show myself or what's inside"

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11298608/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11298608/ Wed, 03 Jan 2007 08:50:47 PST
So, I wrote a whole bunch of stuff following that. All about new years eve and what happened that night. I think dA has helped me to open up about many things. But I think this time I'm going to bottle it up again. Its probably for the best, in this case. Still I had a great night, though I'm a little worried conversations following it might have ruined my chances with someone who wasnt even there. I'll have to work some magic, make her feel special... Ha, as if I could do that. Impossible. Well, if this ones a skilled mindreader aswell, I guess I shouldnt have to worry about it too much.

Anyway I've got high hopes for this year. I've made a sort of resolution to myself that I'm going to be writing daily. and I dont mean like signing my name or doing some homework, I mean writing for myself. I'm gonna have to be in bed properly tonight to catch up on missed sleep, but before that I want to go back to something I've done on the first world war. I like it, but I dont love it. So, I'm going to be writing daily and you can expect more submissions this year! Though definitely not daily.

Ooo what else... Well, alot. So much to talk about, but none of it can be said. Its stupid really isnt it? I had a rather strange time at the end of last year, but I think I might be ready to go back and keep my emotions to myself. Is that a good thing? lets find out.

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11243044/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11243044/ Sat, 30 Dec 2006 09:17:51 PST
So, the plan for this christmas holiday was to catch up on the work ive missed whilst wallowing in my own inexplicable self-pity. It started off fairly well, but in true me style, ive pretty much stopped. Im thinking tomorrow I really get into it, but right now - fuck it. bad attitude i know, but again - fuck it.

Christmas is what really ruined it. it was too enjoyable, and i forced it to continue. Just the littlest piece of relaxation stops anything. tis a military maxim. if an army stops in one place for too long, isnt fighting, then it grows comfortable and never wants to fight again. You end up with a bunch of drunkards. So whats the answer? You dont stop for long, you push on and drive the attack forward. I however have stopped. I've set up a permanent base of operations and my troops watch the same line every day. An army lives to march. I just have to take that first step, again.

Anyway, what the hell was that about? whatever. What shall I ramble about today? Ah lets go back to christmas, why the hell not? I didnt get anything special, wasnt expecting much. Nice new watch (which I still havent got adjusted to fit my pathetic skinny little wrists) and some good books I'm looking forward to getting into. Spent plenty of time drinking since christmas. Just enough to keep me tipsy 24/7 (im in a rare soberity right now). Oh, new years... Well, I still have no place to go. Nothing really decent anyways. I mean I'll either end up on a pub crawl around the overflowing bars (if i can get served) or more likely I'll pop into the co-op, grab a load of booze, get drunk somewhere, and see what happens next... Thatd be fun, except I'd then have to spend the next day on this coursework if Im to finish it for wednesday, which may be difficult if im hungover/lost/whatever. I guess it depends mostly on what my mates are doing, but right now its all a mess.

So what happened to the coca-cola advert? You know, the one with all the trucks and the song going "holidays are coming, holidays are coming" it got replaced with some crap where santa gives a bottle of coke to some old woman. and he looks like hes made of plastic. (except hes not)

Thats another thing, while we're on the subject of coke. Have you noticed that coke in a glass bottle tastes better than either the plastic bottles or a tin? I remember it was back during the world cup (We'll win it next time...) and they were selling coke in glass bottles again for some reason and i was out with some of the guys and we saw em in a shop and were amazed, bought some, and loved it. Its just so much nicer without the plasticy oils. I cant say what affects it in a tin, but its still not so good.

Coke... Ruler of the world... You see, military might can conquer lands but economic power will influence the world. Money is very important, but I dont believe its what makes the earth spin. Ive thought many times about what could replace currency, how we could simply get rid of it... Unfortunately, none of my methods are realistic. They simply wouldnt work. Why? Because losing currency means a complete reshaping of the world as it is, everything would change, and unfortunately my mind is not so powerful as to be able to design that. Not yet, anyway...

Everyone hates this life, and this world. You hear it all the time. There are the good sides - friends, family, love. Just generally love to put a broad term to it. But the rest of it, we have so many problems with. How can we lose that? Perhaps a nuclear war, a holocaust, to destroy all of this, though horrible in the short term may, in the long term benefit our descendants? Or perhaps I'm being childish. Still, maybe.

You could argue that my computer here gives me pleasure, improves my life. But I shouldnt need it. It gives me more diversity, gives me access to other people and wider information. I guess thats a general growth of humanity - being able to reach out. expand. Bigger is better.

Well anyway, since this shall be my last journal entry of 2006, farewell! and lets hope next year is alot better!

]]> ~ToiletBrush http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11127583/ http://ToiletBrush.deviantart.com/journal/11127583/ Wed, 20 Dec 2006 13:03:19 PST
So, abandoning my quest for nourishment I got to thinking... Oranges. Where do Oranges grow? The answer is, apparently, south east Asia. Thanks, wikipedia. Anyway, I began thinking how easily we transport things right across the world. It seems meaningless. Orange Juice is a standard thing. I almost cant imagine living on food native to Britannia. It would be so boring. Did you know, for example, that the potato was introduced to England in 1586? Or somewhere around that time zone. Again, the potato is a bog standard every day thing. Totally taken for granted, but by all rights most of us should never interact with it.

Racism. We're all racist, in some way or another. On some level. I've been verbally attacked for saying that in the past, but frankly its true. Maybe you dont act upon it, but everyone holds some prejudice against another type of people, or race. And yet, its a proven fact that we all have a diverse blood line. We are multi-cultural, just as the food we eat comes from all over the world. (Rice is considered that plain, boring, cheap, easy to cook food. You can get it in such large quantities, its what you'd hand out to people in need after a drought or some such catastrophe. Where's it come from, though? Only eastern Asia.)

Ok, I don't know where I'm going with this now so I'll stop before I say something stupid. Another trait of the world: sensitivity. You cant say anything without getting attacked. Conversation is a political minefield.

Another trait of the world today: Fickleness (yes its a word!) A guy can go to every appointment he has, he can be the most reliable guy in the world. If he drops the ball just a few times, if he misses just a couple deadlines, he's suddenly worthless. He shouldnt be there, if he cant keep up. Supposedly.

People dont realise that other people have moods. Sometimes theyre great, sometimes theyre not. Sometimes they just dont give a fuck (pardon the french). The really sad thing is, though, just as soon as the complainer hits a problem they expect everyone else to care. Theyve forgotten that they were unfair to somebody else, and they want a break.

So infact, what is the defining trait of the world today? Being selfish. It all links back again, we want foods from all corners of the world because its nice. Because what we have here is boring. We just dont want the people to come with it, because this is OUR land...

Now thats understandable, right? Everyone wants something they can call their own. Some place they can be alone, to relax, in safety. Where they can ignore the rest of the world. Thats not selfish. It's only selfish when they say "This is my little space. That little space next to it, you cant have that."

Anyway, enough of all that crap. I hope it made sense. Oh, and I'm not trying to make myself look like any of these "people". I try to stay impartial, in such places. Like I said: political minefield. You always have to make sure you're not insulting anyone or... bah. In other news I was playing spoons today. If you dont know what that is, its a card game. Its a fun, exciting, and fast paced card game. I was winning, of course, and then I lost a life (didnt pick up a spoon fast enough) I was horrified, throwing myself over the table to grab the last spoon but being just slightly too slow. I couldnt cope. I boiled over, lifted up the cards in my hand and slammed them down, hard, upon the tabletop. I'm usually such a calm person, but once I get angry... Well, needless to say I couldn't use that hand for a little while, and my ring is no long a circle. Its a half-circle, the bottom now being flat. A mate managed to pull it off for me, but I foolishly squeezed it back on again without thinking. It is stuck once more.

Yeah, so today was the last day of school for the christmas. We have until like the second of January. No where near enough time, frankly. Still its better than nothing.

Oh, and while I'm sharing. Last night a couple of guys (whom I had not seen in like a year) had organised a scavenger hunt... Basaically, we all piled into cars and sped off across the island for a few hours to collect a bunch of crap. For example, one thing was a roadworks sign (which we managed to successfully pinch, ours was the best/biggest) and a sex toy (didnt get one of them...) But it was fun. Plan is to do another in Spring/Summer or whenever its a bit warmer but this time all night long. Which would rock.

Anyway, since this will likely be my last journal entry til after christmas, here I am wishing everyone a happy holidays! I'll see you... ]]> ~ToiletBrush