Booking and cooking.

I woke up, and I was really sad.
I dont even know why. I felt like crying. I dont actually have an explanation.

It went away though, and I'm actually in a good mood now, but for some reason I woke up, and something was wrong with the world. I dont remember dreaming anything bad, or going to sleep with anything unusually horrific in my head. It was just a kind of feeling, I've experienced it before, but never without actually knowing what I was supposed to be upset about. Weird.

Anyway, as I said, good mood. It's even sunny in Wolverhampton and that is always good for my morale. I proof read and handed in my dissertation to boot, so all is good. On that note, University of Wolverhampton's ridiculously mis-titled "Here 2 Help" department are a pathetic excuse.
If I worked there it would seriously take me some training to be that unhelpful. Sent me to the wrong place three times, and didnt have a fucking clue, and then talked to me as if I was stupid, when it was their mistake. I would struggle to cause that many problems for students.

Now, for a new section of this blog, impressively titled :

The Culinary Adventures Of David Wells

I have decided to share with you, my dedicated readership the benefits of my experience of cooking literally some dinners for myself.

Let us first re-visit my most recent innovation. It was a chili con carne, but with several fabulously exciting (perhaps to the point of sexual arousal [I am yet to decide]) and lip-licking twists.
Now many so called "chefs" might tell you that a good chili is almost made with the finest quality beef mince. This is deeply flawed. Beef is expensive, you see, and with the credit crunch in full swing we must all make cut backs. I'm even omitting the Quails Egg and Caviar starter that has become synonymous with Wolverhampton cuisine.

For this recipe I chose to use (and the weaker amongst you might wish to make sure you are seated for this) TURKEY mince. I know what you're thinking, but dont worry, it's okay. I am a fucking rebel.
Now of course turkey does not taste as good as beef, in fact it doesnt really taste of very much at all. That's why the next ingredient is so crucial. It is infact a beef stock cube (please note at this point that this is not a recipe, it is purely a list of ingredients I used to make my chili, if you try to cook it in this order you will be left with a piece of shit). The beef stock cube brings in some nice meaty flavour, and tricks your mind into thinking that you have beaten the credit crunch.

Next on our rivetting kitchen based journey is the addition of Marmite. Some people, of course, dont like marmite, however, I am strongly of the belief that these people should be registered as having some sort of mental disability (I accept that not everyone agrees with me on this point). Even if you dont like marmite, you dont need to worry, cos you cant taste it. What it does is give the chili an impressive Sir-Alan-Sugar-sized richness.
The next ingredient is the flavouring. Now, I like my chili very spicy, so I used a lot of red chili powder, paprika, cumin, and even a little cinnamon. Thats how cool I am. If you like it less spicy then you could... not do that (I never promised this guide would be good).

Now we the final, and most controversal aspect of the cooking. Right near the end. The chopped tomatoes and tomato puree had gone in and had been simmering for half an hour or so. Now usually at this point, conventions dictate I add a can of red kidney beans.

...

But I didnt.

I know. Shocking. I used something different.
I used "white kidney beans".
This is because I am a horrible racist.

It is was a good chili. Coulda been a little spicier actually.

Tune in next time, when I share with you the secrets of my speciality of Scouring the Cupboards For Something Nice.

Work.

Getting tired of all this work now.
Yes. I am having a break from all my university writing to do some... writing.
I spend my days sitting in, spending 3 minutes writing about 30 words, then spending about 30 minutes reading through a couple of academic books, and then writing another 30 words. Endlessly.

I'm not even convinced the work I'm doing is any good. I seem to working a lot harder this year, for less reward.

I think I'm just pleased to be busy. Keep my mind away from things. I'm done with university though, I think. I just want to be at home again. With summer coming up and everything. It's so close. But so far away.
Dont like it.

An apology, for the seemingly limitless number of times I am about to use the word "obsession".

I get obsessed with things sometimes. Like I dont mean obsessed in the teenage joking quality of the word, I mean the kind of obsessed where I have to know everything. Where I put off sleeping to find out more.
It happens sometimes with basketball, or tennis, or playing guitar, or writing, or writing songs. For example at the moment, I'm obsessed with music, I've been re-acquainting myself with old stuff I used to know and I've been trying to take in as many new and different albums that I can.

I realise that for some people, what I have described there is not an obsession, it is simply the way they live their lives. I know some people for whom football is their obsession, but they tire of it. It's a constant thing. The same for guitar, or some other instrument.
See, for me (and I'm sure there must be plenty of others like it) obsessions come and go. A couple months back, I was absoloutely, 100% obsessed with tennis. British tennis, to be kinda specific, but in general the whole world of it.

I knew which players were in form and who was injured, and what results might mean for players ranked around the top 500 mark. I know that really isnt the coolest thing to admit. But it's not like I let it interfere with my life. I didn't put off seeing friends (yes, I still have friends) just to see how a specific player was doing, but just when I had spare time I would watch as much as I could.

That obsession has passed. I still like tennis very much. I still follow it, but not to the same lengths. Similiar things happen with basketball from time to time.
Equally, the same thing can happen with like writing a novel, or even like a specific type of writing. Like, Jonathan Creek was on recently, and that sparked a mild obsession with "locked room mysteries" where I bought a load of books and tried in vain to come up with some decent ideas of my own. That obsession has gone too, but its not like I wont read the books, I'm just wont make it a priority as part of my day.

I'm a bit jealous (I'm actually an acutely jealous person, but I'll write a blog about that another time) of people who can sustain obsession. Cos I dont think it means getting in the way of your actual activities, in could just be a generally private thing that occasionally slips in the public, but mainly just something you do on your own.
I actually cant sustain my obsessions at all. Like, when I'm obsessed with basketball, I know what a good basketball journalist I'd make. Cos that kind of obsession just takes me, and I have really, really enjoy finding things out and doing research etc etc etc.

But then, when the obsession fades and it just becomes a casual interest, I'm not sure I'd be able to keep myself motivated for a long time. I mean obviously, I'd enjoy it enourmously if it happened. But I feel like at some point, I would suddenly become obsessed with writing a novel or something, and that would depress me.

Anything but THEM.

The British election is coming up, and I think I have come up with a brilliant plan.
We have a pre-election, where you have two options:

A) Conservatives.
B) NOT The Conservatives.

This would mean that people like myself, and others I know who have the constant dilemma of "should I vote Labour just to keep the Tories out" would no longer have that problem. Then it would come down to an actual sensible vote where the Lib Dems might have a fair chance of getting in.

I decided a while back that I was either going to vote Green Party or Liberal Democrat.
I have a 100% voting record of Green Party, but I think this time I might vote Lib Dem. I think they *might* have a better chance. Maybe not in Southwick which appears to be full of old people and idiots who keep voting in Tim Loughton despite the piss poor job he does.

But Lib Dems seem like they've made up some ground. Everyone hates Labour. Everyone's wise to the Tories. So maybe they've got a chance. Green's dont have a chance. But they might grab a seat if they're lucky. Same for BNP and UKIP, much to my dismay. (Just as a side point, BNP and UKIP are prime example of the "it's everyone's fault but my own" school of thought, and if anyone, anyone who reads this blog votes for them, you can be fucking ashamed of yourself).

What will *probably* happen, despite the fact that sanity suggests it shouldnt. Is Lid Dems will get something like 20%, Labour will get 25%, and the Tories will get about 45% odd, which just seems insanity to me, because the Tories do not have policies which will benefit 45% of the population. Maybe 25%, but not any more than that.

Yes. I realised it has got to the stage where I am pulling random numbers out of the air because I'm annoyed. I have no idea really. Maybe everyone will benefit from a Tory government, maybe they'll be amazing. But I very much doubt it.

Happiness and anxiety.

I know what follows is painfully obvious, especially if you've already gone through those kind of ideas in your head over and over again. I apologise unreservedly in advance.

Regardless of my previous rant on university and the culture surrounding it, I have come to a shocking conclusion: a lot of what I have learnt, has happened because of university. Sadly most of that is not about Creative Writing, it is the cliched "life lessons" that have come most in useful.

I used to be sure about things. I used to know a lot more than I did. Almost invariably I have learned that most of the things I knew were just gross generalisations and tired psuedo beliefs that were passed onto me without my real knowledge. It's very easy to listen to someone who sounds like they know what they are talking about and assume that they are right. But in reality, they are only speaking from their personal experiences, so whatever I assumed as "right" is just what I was told by people who I thought were a decent authority on the matter.

Understanding this depressed me. Because it's kind of nice to think of things as being one thing, as there being one reality in which there is one way to do things, and they will either be right or worng. Kind of like computers games. You learn how to do it, and then you do it, and you complete it, and you move on.

I wish life was like that.

I wish it was like the Sims, where I would sit down for 36hours with a piano, and at the end I would have gone from pathetic beginner to Mozart 2.0. That'd be good. I'd like that. I'd like that my relationships with people could be as easily manipulated as just throwing in a nonsensical joke, a quick hug and a nonchalant conversation regarding the weather and they'd be ready to take a bullet for me. That'd be good too.

I came to the conclusion quite a while ago that I had been far too lucky. Years ago, as I recall, when I had been feeling typically depressively emo (for the time, this was often) and I began to ask myself (and I know it was childish) why I hadn't been blessed with a brilliant muscular body, or chiselled good looks, or perfectly straight hair cascading gently over my face. It wasn't fair, I reasoned. Who decided? Who decided I wasn't allowed to be all these things.

Epiphany is a strong word, and wildly innacurate here.

I realised that I didnt have these things, and yes, I didn't have any great level of charisma, genius level intelligence or wit, either. But I realised I had already been lucky enough. Considering that I could have been born a peasant in the 15th century, or as an orphan with AIDS in Africa, or even just as a victim of child abuse or something as simple as bullying. I got pretty lucky to be honest, I didnt get any of those things.

So I forego any right to complain. Nevertheless, I still complain, I still worry. I still feel sad, sometimes. But two primary emotions fill my life at the moment.
Happiness; for a variety of reasons, some obvious, others not.
and
Anxiety; for two primary reasons, both of which will be over soon, and countless other minor reasons.

I think anxiety has pretty much replaced all the other negative emotions. I just worry about things now, I dont usually feel sad, or lonely, or angry, or scared. I just worry.
But then when I really think about it, the things that I'm actually worried about, are the things that make me happy in the first place.

I know.
Boring.

You know what deeply emotional crying would look like in a written form? Well; that.

Back in Wolverhampton.
Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. Seriously.

I like the new Doctor, Matt Smith is really excellent. I had my doubts. I wanted to like him, but I was almost expecting him to be a dissapointment. BUT HE'S AWESOME. And his assistant, Amy Pond, I like her too.
The first episode was amazing, and the second one was really good too.

Hmmm, I think at some point I did have the mental ability to "review" shows rather than just confess my undying love for them. But that's all you're getting this time, I'm afraid.

I've decided I dislike toffee.
And I like sweetcorn.
But not in fajitas.
And definitely not toffee in fajitas.
Although the idea intrigues me.

Moving on.

I'm in a band now, with between 2 and 4 of my bestest buddies (no-one seems quite sure who is actually involved). Technically we have been writing songs for quite a while now, and are happy with a massive: 1. But we have a name now, so I guess that makes us officially a band.
Wednesday's Child.

It comes from that poem. You know the one. Monday's child is blah, blah, blah, Tuesday's child is... yeah you know it.
"Wednesday's Child is full of woe"
Yeah, I know. Emo. Crying. Blaming the world for all your insignificant white, middle class problems. Don't blame me, I didn't choose it, I live with it.

I, incidentally, am a Monday's child. Which means I should be "fair of face". So... good looking. That was supposed to be my one birth-day given quality. Proof, if it were ever needed, that poems lie.

Wish list.

It's my birthday soon.
Well. It's not. There's another couple of months or so yet, but for arguments sake let's say it is.
It has become increasingly difficult in recent years to think of "things I want", but this year I have it sorted. Do you know what I want?
Clarity.

Not a guitar. Not a Mac. Not a car. Not a copy of 'Devil and God' signed by each member of Brand New (although I wouldn't be disspleased).
Nope, I'd very happily settle for some clarity.

Now let me define what I mean by clarity. It's that kind of clarity, that allows you, exclusively when drunk, to be listening to a pretty average song, and to be able to focus exactly on why it is amazing. During that experience you can blot out the real problems of the song, by the simple method of not thinking.
Well, maybe not so much not thinking, but more being able to block out or ignore thoughts. That is something I would like very much.

You see, there is something I should do. Something I should probably have done a while ago. Regardless, I should definitely do it now.
Just to find out.
To be sure.

But it's difficult. It's difficult because I dont have clarity. I think too much about what can/might/will happen and it scares me. Logical thought doesnt come into it, and so I put it off, and put it off, until inevitably, my time will run out.
Now, if I just had a little clarity, and with it, the little voice in the back of my head reminding me that the worst that can happen isnt that bad, and would make me brave.

Maybe I'll do it. Maybe soon; it will need to be.
Dont wish me luck. Wish me clarity.