No hot water.

God, what a busy day. I had class from 9 till 2.30, then went to the gym and then to work on my website which has been a difficult beast to tame. The bloody thing wouldn't open in the website program we have to use but with a bit of help I managed to get things how I want them. Thank the lord (and Ryan for helping me). The gym wasn't as horrendous as the fisrt time I went but somehow I managed to lose the swipecard they gave me. I think the man on the front desk thought I stole it and made me go back in to look. I looked like a crazy peering at all the machines. Needless to say, it wasn't anywhere to be found.

Anyway, we had bad news in my house last night; the boiler died, which means no hot water at all. My housemate is behaving as if this is the worst thing that has ever happened, as if we don't have any water at all. I mean, I know it's annoying but you can wash in cold water for a few days until the thing gets fixed. It's not ideal, but people live in worse situations. Anyway, the man is meant to be coming tomorrow so she can't complain. But I don't doubt she will. When I saw her this morning she said she was going to the gym so I suggested she have a shower there. She didn't want to. I was telling a friend about this this morning and concluded saying, 'Well it is pretty horrible having to shower in front of everyone,' to which Sarah replied, 'Oh, in the girls you have a cubicle.' I don't see why women don't have to shower communally like men, or why men are not entitled to the privacy of a cubicle like their female gym-goers. How is this right in 2006?

I mean, maybe it made sense years and years ago when men were seen not to care about their image but now in a time in which footballers are near models in their appearance, it seems completely bizarre. Surely since men are going to the gym at all implies that they care about how they look, and perhaps they don't feel particularly comfortable being naked in front of other men. I don't know, maybe I am just getting annoyed for no reason but it just seems ridiculous. Men are as prone to low self esteem as women and are just as likely to compare themselves their peers. Why should men have to be thrown into an environment in which they are forced to expose their body at it's most vulnerable? I'm sure many men would be put off going to the gym knowing that the well deserved shower after would have to be shared with the muscle bound monster who hogged all the free weights. It just doesn't seem to make much sense. Anyway, I can't write anymore. I need to go home and eat something and then will write some more tomorrow.

xx

My hands are so cold I can barely type.

So, another weekend flew by and it's true what 'they' say - time really does fly when you're having fun. My boyfriend came down for the weekend which was fantastic. We didn't do anything too strenuous; walked on the seafront, cooked dinner, watched DVD's and visited a couple of nice cafes. It was a great weekend, one that makes you think 'ah, that was time well spent.' And I managed to get loads of work done before his arrival so didn't spend time worrying, which is always good. Today I have spent the afternoon in the baseroom working on my website which I am now really pleased with - I have a colour scheme and theme for the site which works well and now have all the headings etc so I just need some help to make it live which I will do tomorrow. The reason for the heading of this entry is because the room has no heating so my hands think my body has run out of blood. It's not nice but typing is keeping me warm for the moment. Sick. Oh! And my whole body aches too which is great. I went for my gym induction on Friday and am still feeling like I spent all day on a medieval rack. It's horrible. Even doing something easy like open a window sends pain through me. I'm going to wait until the misery subsides, then go again. I think I probably did too much too soon. That's the general consensus from my limbs.

Anyway, I am tired now, cold and hungry. I'm going to go home and get on with some work.

xx

Jenny's not a liar.

Ok, first things first.

RE: C U Next Tuesday posting. I mentioned the whole thing about spraying mud on 4x4s. It's true! People do do it. Look! http://www.sprayonmud.com/

I can't get on that soapbox again.

Anyway, today has been pretty productive. I woke up early and stayed in bed for ages while my housemate crashed about the house as if she were lugging a dead body around. I heard a massive bang followed by an, 'Oops,' but stayed in bed regardless. Not because I'm an uncaring housemate but because I was engrossed in my book - Requiem for a Dream. It's really gripping and an easy read. Anyway, when I came out of my room she wasn't splayed out on the stairs so it can't have been anything too serious. Which is good, or bad for the writer in me. It would have made a more interesting blog. BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT LIFE IS ABOUT! I need to tell myself this often and not wish such things on people.

Anyway, so I got up, washed and dressed (in that order) and then started my assignments for the week which I really got into. Then to the Post Office to send my friend a parcel I have had for about three weeks. Oh, I'm a horder. Then I trekked in the torrential rain to campus for my twice delayed gym induction. I took my joggers and a T shirt but when I got there the man was like, 'Oh, don't worry, you don't need to change.' So I felt really awkward stood in my cords, cardie, shirt and tie as he showed me all the equipment. I couldn't have looked more out of place if I was painted hot pink with a sandwich board saying 'NEW PERSON.' That's a lie actually, that would have made me stand out a lot more, but I can't be bothered to delete the line.

So, the induction went well and then I hung around after to have a quick workout which was really good actually. I enjoyed it. The workout actually started in the changing room though with a padlock I had to buy for the locker there. The thing came with a set of instructions of how to use it but I just couldn't do it. I felt like I was in some sort of RPG game on the PlayStation or something. I ended up having to get the gym guy to come and help me while I stood looking at him like I was a simpleton. Still, at least I got my stuff back. I can't complain. I might have to spend some quality time with said padlock so as not to be known as the-loser-who-comes-in-and-can't-even-lock-the-locker.

So thats been today so far and a good day it's been too. The weekend is set to be a good one too. Some friends are going to a speakeasy night tonight in Redruth but I have my boyfriend coming down so won't be attending the event. No doubt I will hear about it tomorrow though.

Anyway, enough for now. More soon.

xx

Nothing to write about.

I have nothing to write about. How miserable is that? I just thought I should make a written note of this and see what would happen if I started typing. Type, type, type. Still nothing of interest. Maybe I should cut my losses and head off. Or I could try and write until some spark of inspiration hits me like a wet fish in the face. Hmm, I have only 13 no 12 minutes until my lecture so I think I would be pushing it to come up with something fantastic. 12/13 minutes is enough time to complete a 'painless' rated Sudoku though, I learnt that last night. One with the difficulty rating of 'migraine' takes a lot longer. Again, I learnt that last night. After trying for about an hour to complete this painful puzzle, my eyes started to blur and I didn't even feel I was looking at the page anymore. I had to put it down. It actually made my head hurt.

On that note, goodbye.

xx

C U Next Tuesday.

What a great day. I just came in from lunch with people on my course (well done Amanda for organizing such an occasion) and it was really nice. Almost dampened by a nasty waitress, as keen on her job as having scabies, but never mind. I made a fool of myself actually; my friend, Jenny, came into the restaurant so I was waving manically for her when said waitress came over snapping, 'Yes?' I felt so embarrassed, I was like, 'Oh...no....I was waving for my friend.' I'm sure she thought I was a complete C U Next Tuesday but there we go, I wasn't waving at her so I shouldn't feel too bad.

Anyway, other than that today has been kind of uneventful. I had a taster class in writing for business which was kind of interesting but I don't think I will take that module next study block. It doesn't seem like something that I want to do ever so much. However, during the class I worked in a group thinking of ways to detract people from using wretched 4x4's in urban surroundings. We presented our ideas of bumper stickers with slogans like, 'Kiddie killer on board', 'I hate the environment' and, 'One 4x4, two reasons, three times the pollution, fo(u)r your childrens future, THINK.' Anyway, we gave feedback on our ideas and that was all well and good. Jenny, though, said something that made me think: 'What the hell?' She said that people in London often pay for someone to spray their 4x4 with mud so that they can say they were in the country for the weekend. Isn't that the craziest thing you ever heard? It made me feel a weird mix of angry, confused and despairing. Who the hell would be that concerned about things like that? And who do they hope to impress by doing something like that? Maybe it's an urban legend. You know, maybe no-one actually does that but I don't think Jen is a liar and nor would I put it past some people. It's no different to buying a certain kind of car or designer suit. By having a car sprayed with mud, the owner is buying a lifestyle: one that says, 'Yes I live in London but I can still afford to enjoy the country too.' Assuming this consumerism does indeed exist, it's bizarre that someone would care so much about the way they are perceived to go to such measures. Yes, we live in a world in which plastic surgery and botox are as much a part of society as television, but isn't this spray-on-impression a step too far? By doing something like this we are not making ourselves more attractive or successful but simply pushing an impression of ourselves onto anyone who sees us travel about in our 4x4 which, incidentally, makes most people take an instant dislike to us anyway. It worries me that people take such drastic measures to make themselves seem credible. Are they so unhappy living where they are that they have to pretend they visit other places during the weekends? In my opinion, people who act in such a way need to look at more pressing issues before they take such action in much the same way as those who invest in plastic surgery. Acting in such a way, these people are buying a temporary fix; they are not making themselves happier in the long run bit instead changing something tiny rather than fixing the larger picture. No matter how much plastic surgery a person has, they will always be the same person beneath the skin. Nothing will change that. If someone has esteem issues, there is nothing a plastic surgeon can do to help in the long term. Yes the person will have a new face/nose/mouth(designer)vagina but if they are insecure anyway they will find fault in their new looks soon enough.

Today we were given statistics about people who buy 4x4's and it was proven that the majority of people who purchase such vehicles are vain, insecure, and shallow. Throwing money at something like a 4x4 won't stop the person feeling this way, in fact perhaps the opposite. In buying it, they are assuming that they will be made happier but when the car fails to fill a void they may well feel worse than they did originally. It makes sense. If we set our hearts on something and that something doesn’t deliver then we feel more disappointed: where do we look now? I think that is what's wrong with people at the moment; they don’t look beyond what they can buy. Too many people think that the money they throw at things will make them happier. And maybe it will in the short term. But in the long term we need to look beyond such quick-fixes. We need to look at what it is that makes us crave consumerism and focus on that instead. I think that many people are scared to look at themselves in that way and instead assume they can buy their way to happiness, which is concerning. I know that by talking like this I sound as if I'm a complete leper to a shopping centre and that I am completely happy with the way my life is. It's not that, I just think that when I feel low I know that I need to look at why I feel like that rather than spending money on things that I assume will make me feel better. Making ourselves happy isn’t easy at all and it's hard work because we can't just buy happiness over the till counter. We might think we can, but we can't. If you feel low and go shopping and buy a new top that looks great on you, I am not disputing the fact that it will boost your happiness temporarily. But is the cause of your sadness not still inside you somewhere? If you're honest, I'm sure you will find it is.

Anyway, the moral is - urban 4x4 drivers should be shot and you can't buy happiness.

xx

'I nearly ran you over the other day.'

The best thing I heard in the last 72 hours has to be this, overheard in the last few days: ‘Oh hiya! I nearly ran you over the other day.’ Isn’t that the best greeting you ever heard? Sadly it wasn’t directed at me but some grubby looking lady in the Seven Stars in Penryn.

Anyway, aside from that, the last few days have been pretty hectic. Friday I went to London for an interview. This meant getting up at 5.30am. I don’t think my room knew, or will ever know again, what I look like at this time. Not a pretty sight. After a train journey of about five and a half hours we got to London and I had my interview in the EAT café in Paddington. It was like going on a blind date. They even had a sign with the company name on the table. No carnations though, mores the pity. The interview was tough going and although I was kind of prepared I wasn’t set for the questions they asked. It was all very direct and they held no punches. It was great experience in the sense that it was a reality check for the future, but a painful experience feeling like I had gone onto Mastermind having chosen the wrong specialist subject. After that I met a friend for a bit, then headed back and met the three friends I had travelled with for drinks. We ended up buying three bottles of wine and cans of beer for the journey back, which aided the five and a half hours tremendously. Oh and I introduced the others to the wondrous game of ‘FaithBreaker.’

‘FaithBreaker' is a great game me and my friend Moira devised during my undergraduate study. On a train you wave to someone on the platform that isn’t the one people will get on from. You then make elaborate arm movements and faces to ask them to get someone else on the platform. For example, if someone is wearing a hat you point manically at you head. If they are reading a book, you keep opening and closing your hands like a crazy person. They soon get the picture, then wander to the person to point out you are trying to get their attention. At this point you turn around as if you were never looking. It’s very immature, I know that. But it’s great too. Give it a go. Oh and we played the Rizla game where you stick a name on your head and have to guess who it is. I learnt that isn’t much fun for someone you are talking to on the phone (sorry Ian) as they have to put up with questions like, ‘Am I alive or dead?’ ‘Am I a man or a woman?’ You end up sounding possessed and a little frightening. So the train journey back was great. We made friends (and maybe some enemies) and were back in Falmouth about 10pm. I did have one awkward encounter on the way back actually which was at the buffet cart. Some man was stood behind me and the train kept swinging about so you sort of fell a bit. I said to the man, ‘Oh, it’s not very smooth is it?’ The man replied with ‘No, and it’s ten minutes late and there’s three people behind the bar and only one serving.’ This prompted an angry and tired looking Virgin train employee to turn round and spit, ‘We are all working at the moment Sir, but some of us can only serve First Class.’ The man then said to me, ‘Oh and they’re very sensitive about it too.’ Don’t you sometimes wish you hadn’t said anything?

Then we went for a curry and drinks. I started to feel as if I might die if I stayed up another minute so stayed at my friend, Holly’ house. Now, I have never been to Holly’s house before, so had never met her housemates. I fell asleep on the sofa with a duvet over me and was just coming to when someone came into the room. I thought it was a girl with no top on. This person gasped (very loudly) and asked, ‘Who are you?’ I said I was Holly’s friend and then the person ran away. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not so when I saw Holly I asked who it was. It was her housemates son. It was all very scary. I don’t know who was more frightened: me or him. Judging from the gasp though, I would say him. I told you I look rubbish in the morning.

So, after the epic that was Friday I headed to Truro to pick up my Mum who was staying with me for the weekend. She had a nightmare journey, which meant that the train was three hours late. Once I picked her up though we went into Truro for a while shopping which was really nice.

My mum and I love Scrabble but I don’t have a set so we went to Argos to pick up a travel set. They didn’t have one and the normal sized one was more than I wanted to pay. On the way back to the car though, we stopped at a charity shop to see if I could find some ties. I mentioned to the woman we were looking for a Travel Scrabble set and she had one in the storeroom. We snapped it up for £2. Imagine. I just re-read that paragraph and it reads like a Boot Sale Tale from Take A Break. I’m suitably ashamed.

So then we came home, had a game of Scrabble and a couple of glasses of wine. Then decided to head to the local pub for a couple of drinks. We got there about seven or so and saw that The Sex Slaves From Hell were playing. I didn’t think this was hugely appropriate for Mother so was encouraging her to drink up. But we were sat next to the singer who assured Mum that the music was great; Irish folk music and that she would be singing Fairy Tale in New York by the Pogues. How could we refuse? So we stayed and didn’t leave until about half ten. I never thought I would be watching Sex Slaves From Hell with my Mum. What next? Strippers with my Gran? Gay gogo dancers with my Dad? Well, if the Seven Star have got it…It was good though and I was very impressed with the Sex Slaves. Though slightly disappointed by the lack of leather. Still, you can’t have everything.

On Sunday we went for a nice long walk on the seafront and then for a snack in one of the bars with the Sunday paper. Then home and cooked dinner and bed. She left today so I hope the journey back will be OK, no three hour delays fingers crossed.

So, that brings us up to today. Today has been good; I heard back from the interview people who said I hadn’t got the place but I’m fine with that. Their feedback was that although I can write well, they weren’t sure it was something I would have been completely enamoured with. And I can see where they are coming from. I mean, during the interview they did say, ‘The thing that worries me about you Liam is that you seem to be interested in every side of writing. We’re not sure if Business Writing is definitely a career you will pursue.’ I said that was right since I haven’t had much experience in it. How can I have had? But at the same time, you never know what the future holds. As much as I like to think I will write features and articles, another opportunity may arise which seems more appealing. I found it hard to say that this was exactly what I wanted to do and I think they saw that it wasn’t my passion. The person that got it, however, definitely illustrated this and so that’s good.

Other than that, not much has been going on really. I have been working on my creative pieces and developing my novel idea. The latter was greatly assisted by a lecture today on structure and plot. I have decided to make a few changes. I know this all sounds very cryptic, but it’s early days yet and I don’t want to jinx it. Superstitous you see.

Oh, and it's now Tuesday…BUT I haven’t been writing since yesterday non-stop. Oh no. I have instead been blocked from using the Blogger site. What I do, since I don’t have internet access at home, is write my Blog in Word and then upload it onto Blogger. Clever, I know. But not when the other half of the relationship doesn’t play their part.

Anyway, so I went out for a drink last night with some friends and had a call from my Mum. She arrived home safe and sound but about 2 hours late. The trains were playing up again. She was telling me too about a horrible chavvy couple who were at the train station and loitering around in the waiting room. The male was drunk and the pregnant female was stoned. Isn't that grim? My Mum said every other word was an expletive and the girl was flashing her stomach so people could see the baby kick. They then got on the same train as my Mum until they were taken off by the police. Sick. That kid will have such a rough start into life by the sounds of it with role models like that. I don’t know. I sound very Daily Mail, but it just seems very tragic that people like that think they can be parents. Horrible.

It reminds me actually of another chav couple I encountered yesterday. While I was seeing my Mum off we were sat at the train station next to a dressed-head-to-toe-in-white girl and a monosyllabic boy. They muttered and grumbled to each other while playing the ring tones on their phones. Then the boy started showing the girl porn on the mobile. So that was nice. She was laughing at first, then got really upset about it. When he asked what was wrong, she said she didn’t have videos of other people on her phone so why should he? He qualified having such material on his mobile by saying, 'Well they're not real people are they?' God knows how he values sex. Kind of worrying really.

Anyway, enough of this fun and games. xx

Live and learn.

Today has been really good and its not even over yet. I had class in which we focused on how characters would meet and be brought into narrative. We'd each written a short story about the same topic (what makes someone happy in Falmouth in 2006) and then had to create one narrative with the characters we had created. It was a really interesting task and then we watched a film after called 13 Conversations About The Same Thing.

It was a really great film which focused on six narratives. The main theme throughout the film was that each thing we do affects someone else. Sometimes we are aware of this, sometimes we are not. Sometimes these things are small but have huge consequences. For example, one character is contemplating suicide and says to herself that she will gauge the person opposite hers face to let her know if she should do it or not. The man she sees smiles and she says it is as if he has read her mind.

The film made me think about the way that we treat other people and how, if we knew everything that was going on in our lives, our behavior would be so much more different. I suppose that is kind of obvious and sometimes it seems as if, if we believe this, we are almost excusing someone’s short temper, bad attitude, violent tendencies and so on. But at the same time, it seems like something that we should try and do without really thinking about it. It seems a fundamental part of being human. I'm not saying that we should overlook someone killing another person because their childhood was troublesome, not at all. I just think that sometimes we need to look at the way we treat each other and assess whether it is behavior we would deem acceptable or not. I think we need to think about things more as cause and effect. Some people, myself included sometimes, say that (not verbatim), 'That bad incident was because so and so did this, that, the other.' If we take a step back it and evaluate the situation, we normally find that our actions have led to another’s. We are as much a part of a chain as someone else. At one point in the film, a man finally gets a job interview. It is raining on the day of the interview and so he runs for the train. The train doors are closing and the next two trains pass him by because they are full of commuters sheltering from the weather. The man mugs a tourist to get a camera from him but accidentally throws him on the track and he dies. The man goes to prison and is on death row. When asked what he thinks about all day, he replies, 'I just wish it hadn't been raining.' But for so many of us the rain can take on a different form: an abusive parent, a partner that left us, a lover who cheated. Nothing we can do can change the past. We need to recognize this and, at some point, move on. In this example, the man’s intent to mug was wrong anyway, not as final as murder, but morally wrong. At some point in all of our lives, we make mistakes and we do things without thinking, sometimes to the detriment of others. We need to learn from these mistakes and try to ensure we don't make them again. Live and learn I guess.

Anwyay, enough of that. Actually, yesterday I witnessed someone’s actions affecting someone else first hand. I was sat eating my lunch in the canteen. It was teeming down outside and I saw this man struggling up the stairs with loads of photography equipment. This girl came bounding up the stairs behind him. I thought she was going to stop and open the door for him. Instead she flung the door open, dashed inside and let the door slam on his face. I just thought that was so rude. Maybe you might think that I should have got up and opened the door for him. Maybe I should have. The point is though, that I was watching both people and just assumed she would help him. She didn't. Maybe that's as much a learning part of the day as my lesson was. We shouldn't be so assuming that someone else will do anything. We should maybe make sure we do it ourselves. I read once that you can't change anyone else’s actions, but you can change your own. Which is very true. I suppose you have to start with yourself before you can get anything else to change.

Anyway, enough now. I'm going for a drink before an early night and a 6.57am train in the morning. Sick.

xx

Fame or fortune?

Ugh. I just trekked in the rain from my house to campus to go for my gym induction but the man who was taking me round was off sick so I have to go back on Monday. Annoying, but there we go. I'm not sure how I feel about the gym to be honest. Gin, fine, gym, unsure. See, whenever I think of a gym I never imagine people there who are going to improve themselves but instead people who are there who are in the post-improvement stages, using the gym as a stage to flaunt about on. I know that's kind of paranoid thinking, but it's not paranoia if they're all looking at you. I'm joking, I don't think it will be that bad but I know the man will ask me what it is I want to do at the gym. I guess I just want to make myself a bit fitter. I don't get much exercise at all, I walk to campus and back and that's about it. I want to get to the point that running up a flight of stairs doesn't leave me feeling like I'm about to die. I don't think that's beyond the realms of possibility.

So anyway, that's what has happened today so far. Other than that I haven't done much at all. I had a letter in the post from my Nan which was sweet. She never uses any punctuation though which makes you feel out of breath by the end. Still, we can't all be perfect with grammar and punctuation. Mine is particularly poor, ironic really since I am here studying Professional Writing. Oh, that reminds me. I'm reading at the moment Eats, Shoots and Leaves, the pedantic book about punctuation and grammar. It's quite a good read actually but I am only 26 pages in and already have spotted about 6 errors. I don't know if these are deliberate or not. I mean, maybe there will be a disclaimer at the end saying, 'Ooh, aren't we cheeky. We put 235 errors in this book. Are you clever enough to find them all?' Either that or I bought the one copy that was never proof-read. I once bought a book in a charity shop which I really enjoyed. I got to about page 317 and the end was in sight, turned the page and it took me back to page 210 or something. The fucking thing was wrongly bound. But the worst thing was that the person who had it originally decided to hand it in to a charity shop, as if to spread the frustration. If that was me, I would have burnt the cursed thing. Thrown it away at the very lest or stormed back to the shop where I bought it and held up the queue taking the person behind the counter through each and every page.

That makes me think of something I once read in an A to Z list of annoying things to do to people. One of them was - tear the last page out of the book someone is reading, which made me laugh. Ooh, it's like karma coming round to bite me. Some of the others in the book were 'sniff constantly at the dinner table until someone snaps at you to blow your nose' and 'ask people what star sign they are and when they answer say, I thought you were.' That was a great read for the antagonist in me. That was a book written by Lily Savage/Paul O'Grady that someone gave me for Christmas one year.

It's weird, Paul O'Grady is still on the TV but Lily Savage as a character seems to have just disappeared. Maybe he thought the character had gone as far as she could. It's a shame really but at least it went out on a high. It's like The Royle Family. I think that ended at just the right time. If it had gone on any longer it would have lost its magic and just been seen as Caroline Aherne flogging a dead horse. No one wants that, least of all the horse. The Royle Family has to be one of the best things from British comedy in years, closely followed by Nighty Night. Actually, a friend of mine lent me Jam, which also has Julia Davis in and is pretty good too. It's a bit too dark in places though. Like, there is a sketch in which a woman and a man are having an argument. The gist is that the woman thinks the man is having an affair. He's saying things like, 'She doesn't mean anything to me etc,' and she is getting really upset. She says, 'Amanda said she saw you kissing her,' to which he replies, 'No, I wasn't kissing her. I was holding my hand over her mouth. I was raping her.' She then says 'Really? Oh, ok, sorry baby.' It's all a bit grim but some parts are a bit too close to the bone.

Anyway, I'm rambling. There was a point in there somewhere. Oh, yes I remember. I was thinking about The Royle Family and Caroline Aherne. Now, I remember a few years ago when Aherne was drinking a lot and life looked a bit bleak for her. That was probably the only time that I have seen her in the papers. I remember seeing a picture of her looking really upset against the headline 'I HAVEN'T EVEN GOT A CAT.' The way the piece that followed read was that Aherne was devastated at having no company and how pathetic she was to be screaming this at people. At the time, I think both her husband and father had died so she was obviously really upset. A couple of weeks later I saw Aherne interviewed and she mentioned this incident. It turned out that the paparrazzi (sp?) were hounding her and one asked her something about a cat to which she replied 'I haven't even got a cat.'

Anyway, I'm getting off the point by sharing Aherne trivia. What I was thinking about was the idea of someone with as much talent as Aherne not actually being that famous. I mean, we all know of her but we don't know as much about her as other 'talented' people. It also made me wonder what it's easier to be, talented, rich or famous. Nowadays, I think it's pretty easy to become famous. Just look at the cast of 'celebrity' reality programmes. Half the people in those programmes are so far off the D list status they're struggling to hold onto whatever the Greek letter for Z is. Famous doesn't carry the same connotation as it used to at all. When I think of fame, real fame, I think of people like Madonna, Cher, Marilyn Monroe, Julia Roberts, Stephen Fry, Oscar Wilde, the list goes on. But if you look in the bestseller books list at the moment, there are various autobiographies 'written' by people like Kerry Katona, Wayne Rooney, Jordan, Jodie Marsh. Again, the list goes on. It seems that you can become famous overnight now, and with fame often comes wealth. But talent isn't something that you can just accrue from getting your genitals out on page 3 of The Sun, or going on Big Brother moaning about how hard done by you are. Talent is something that few people have and even fewer use to there full abilities.

Don't get me wrong. I think Wayne Rooney is probably a great footballer and Jordan and Jodie Marsh are, er, fantastic at all they do. But should people like this be given the same treatment that, years ago, was reserved only for iconic film stars and singers? The thing is that nowadays, the name of someone like Jordan or Wayne Rooney is worth more than the actual person. By placing the name of Jordan on a book, the publishers are almost guaranteed a bestseller (which incidentally may not have to be that many copies shifted) because the public know what they will be buying. Heat readers know all about her relationship about Peter Andre, the child she has who has many difficulties and her fight with finger cancer. The book sells because people have already show enough of an interest in Jordan to keep her in the pages of numerous glossy magazines.

I hate this celebrity and Heat culture. It really riles me. I know I have a very low tolerance with some things anyway (some peoples faces, the way people approach you in a queue and ask, 'Are you in the queue?'), but there is something about this new breed of culture that makes me despair a bit. The main thing I can't stand is Heat. Now, I admit that I do pick it up in the shop and have a flick through at the new reviews and things but the bulk of the magazine makes me get just a little bit angry. There are a few reasons for this. One is the picture stories at the front of the magazine with things like: Paris Hilton buys new hat, Sarah Jessica Parker catches her skirt in taxi and Cheryl Tweedy/Cole looks at cat in street. It's just like, who gives a shit? I don’t know. Maybe I am as bad for even picking up this printed excrement, but I just don’t see that anyone can read something like that and think, 'Oh, that's interesting.' The other thing that I hate about Heat is the fact that every week it has different lists: 50 curviest women, 20 skinniest celebs, 30.5 anorexic stars, 0 normal people. OK, admittedly I made the last one up. But those kinds of lists are in the magazine all the time. Some weeks they praise Charlotte Church for her curves, the next week they circle her 'cellulite' and say it looks unsightly. On the same page they circle Nadine from Girls Alouds legs and say she needs to put on a weight. This circle is lovingly known as 'The Circle of Shame.' The only shame is that the main demographic for this magazine is young women who are being fed clashing information. One week, Heat says celebs are too fat, the next week - too thin. There is no consistency at all and the thing that really irritates me is that they place 'celebrities' on pedestals while at the same time saying, 'Oh look, celebrities are just like us really,' and telling the readers how to emulate a certain 'stars' style. I don’t ever look at celebrities in that kind of way at all. If I see someone famous in the street I don’t feel overwhelmed. People are just people at the end of the day. They live and die just like the rest of us and just because their faces adorn the covers of magazines and their work is sometimes seen by millions of people, is no guarantee they are any happier. Nor does it mean that they can't be afflicted by illnesses the rest of us have to suffer, look at Kylie for instance. I don’t believe that fame or wealth leads to happiness.


Right, I'm finished for now I think. I am so hungry I might eat my own face.

xx

'When I was teaching lions.'

Just now I was sat with some friends in the bar when one started a conversation with, 'When I was teaching lions..' before corecting herself to, 'When I used to teach, I used to make the kids play sleeping lions.' The original statement was funnier in my opinion but the story that she told anyway was pretty good. Frea used to teach Drama and one of the things they used to do if they didn't have enough material to fill a lesson was to ask the kids to play sleeping lions. Those who aren't familiar with this game: it's just lying on the floor like coma victims for as long as possible. The best runs one of the other teachers had was 50 minutes. Which is pretty good going if you ask me. She also said that sometimes kids would move because they were bored but she'd pretend not to see or say, 'You can still win anyway.'

Anyway, enough of those wretched lions. Today was a good day. I worked on my idea for the novel in the morning which is going very well. Then I headed onto campus to work on my website. Part of my assessment relies on building a website which works as a portfolio of my work, one section also is my CV so I started that today. I love InDesign. I think it's one of the best things I have ever been in contact with. After chicken liver pate anyway. So, I managed to get a nice and professional feel to the layout. The only thing missing was any text! I really don't know what to put on this CV because it is meant to advertise me as a writer, but all the employment I have been in before is completely unrelated to writing. So I am going to see my course leader tomorrow to see what I need to do. What I was thinking was speaking more about my aims than my accomplishments and saying why work should be offered to me. I think if I have a body of work linked from there then that should work well. We shall see.

So, other than that, nothing really to report. I'm heading home in a minute to have some dinner and wine before setting on my idea again. I'm looking forward to it. When I think of sitting at my desk, I feel really happy. That sounds really cheesy, I know, but I am just so happy to be dedicating so much of my time to writing. If there was one thing I wanted to get out of this year, it was to be writing every single day. I heard that in order to get yourself into a new routine you need to do whatever it is you want to make a new habit, for 3 weeks. So that's a good sign since I have now been here for about 6 weeks. Hurrah!

So on that note....Actually, I forgot. Last night when I was walking back home some vile kids stopped me. They were about 10 or so. One of them said, 'Are you gay?' so I replied with, 'Yes' and they couldn't believe it. They were asking, 'Really, swear to God.' It's just like, who cares? I'm sure God isn't too bothered. I expect he has enough on his hands.

So there we go.

xx

Sex Slaves from Hell.

So far today I've been involved in discussions about life and death, adultery, murder and penetrating machines. And it's still only 12.25pm. That's a lot of subjects to cover in such a small space of time.

The reason for the majority of these seemingly bizarre topics of conversation is down to my class this morning. We were all asked to write a play involving two characters meeting the structure we have learnt - rhetoric writing. Everyone wrote quite emotional pieces so by the end we all felt a bit drained. It was like Ricky Lake, it was that issue ridden. We then went to lunch and a friend told us all about a programme she had seen in which women were using machines to have sex with. These machines sound pretty impressive - different sizes, speeds, shapes, colours. Something for everyone. So if Christmas present ideas are lacking then maybe give a machine a thought for the one you love. But remember, it's not just for Christmas.

Aside from that, the weekend was really good. As I mentioned, I had a couple of friends to visit from Bristol which was really nice. We went to the pub on Friday night and were locked in with the locals (deliberately) and spent time chatting to the landlord. He was a really nice guy actually, and was telling us to return Saturday night because the Sex Slaves from Hell were playing.

'The girl,' he said, 'is really good on the violin.'
'Oh,' we responded. I don't think any of us associated violins with sex slaves from hell, but maybe that's our prejudices getting the best of us. Who knows.

Anyway, we staggered home late to drunkenly eat pate on toast before the three of us fell asleep in my double bed. It was surprisingly comfortable but I did wake up feeling as if I'd used every muscle in my body to keep me from falling off. Then on Saturday we went to the Seal Sanctuary which at £10 a head was pretty expensive. It was a nice day though but I did feel the seals could have made a bit more effort. I understand they've been through some trauma. Haven't we all? But I didn't see one balancing a ball on his nose. That's a poor show in my book. I didn't ask for a refund though; I figured it would probably be bad karma.

So then Saturday night I cooked dinner for 6 which was nice. I stuck to my tried and tested formula of fajitas and everyone seemed to enjoy them. No negative comments and limited retching, so that was good. The meal was enhanced by the inclusion of a centre piece my friend brought round. Having told him there was nothing he could bring other than himself, he proved me wrong with a stunning ceramic horse bookend. The other half of the set is being held hostage by another friend so I'll be working on his rescue during the year.

On Saturday night we went out in Falmouth which was really good but ended in a bit of a state. After drinking probably my own body weight, we got a taxi home. The taxi stopped in a one way street and we fannied around trying to find money. When we got out the car behind honked their horn and shouted something (the occupants, not the car). My friend stupidly gave them the finger at which point some hard faced hag stepped out of the passenger seat and shouted something like, 'You wanna start something?' I was sick and then we ran away.

That's a stupid question though isn't it - 'Do you wanna start something?' I'm sure no one ever answers. I think I should find out what the correct response is in case I ever am faced with the quandary again.

And on that note, goodbye.


xx

Dreaded writer's block.

I don't know what's wrong with me at the moment but every time I sit down to work at my assignments for the week, I just can't get into them. For some reason I'm just freezing and I can't get anything done. It's bizarre because all week I have been able to do something with my time but today has been a killer. I'm blaming the fact that I had to do laundry today. I think all the getting up any down and emptying and filling the washing machine has lead to my writing demise. I think I'm going to write off (no pun) the rest of the day and just see what happens. I guess it's just writer's block, I don't know. Maybe I can write myself out of it. I'll give it a go on here and see how I do...

So, I haven't written since yesterday and the Wuthering Heights debacle. Ugh, that was intense. Last night I didn't really do too much and today has been much of the same. I had to run a few errands and things but other than that it's been pretty quiet. In fact I haven't even seen anyone I know yet which is a bit bizarre. Still, I have a couple of friends visiting from Bristol this weekend so I will have 48 hours non-interrupted company. Well, maybe not wall to wall 48 hours but good as. I'm planning to take them to the seal sanctuary in Gweek tomorrow and maybe to St Mawes on the ferry on Sunday. Who knows what will happen. Given the weather though I think it might be a weekend of sheltering and constantly questioning: 'Has the rain stopped yet?' 'No.' 'Oh.' Faces like wet weekends all round!

Anyway, I have no anger or anything to vent today so I haven't much more to say except watch this space. Maybe I will be hit by some wondrous idea while sat here in the computer room. I'm going to sit and wait with my hands over my ears until one comes.

xx

I never want to see Cliff Richard as Heathcliff again.

I don't think I can take any more Wuthering Heights.

The last two nights have been spent reading it and today I have seen four different interpretations of different scenes. Plus we were shown, as a bit of 'light relief', some of the musical Heathcliff with Cliff Richard in. This last part nearly killed me. I can't stand Cliff Richard and seeing his sumg face at the end of a WH marathon nearly finished me off. Oh, and I just downloaded Kate Bush's song of the same title. I think I have filled my quota of Wuthering Heights. For today at at least.

xx

The annoying girl has a rival.

OK, I know I will sound like a crazy and really irritable but I don't care. There is a girl two seats away from me who is almost on par with the annoying girl I have previously mentioned. She is going on and on about someone who has messaged her on MySpace and doesn't know who it is. She keeps asking her friend, 'Who is it? Was I really drunk at that party.' Knowing full well she was and just prompting her friend to say how wild she is. Ugh. I can't bear it.

xx

It's all getting very exciting.

Today we had our first tutorial in setting up our personal websites in order to promote ourselves. This was a really interesting and exciting thing to see and I can't wait to get it started. It will be a lot of work to make it something that will be of use and looks of a professional standard but I can't wait to get going on it. Once I have finished all the other things that are looming over me, of course. The main threat to my sleep at the moment is reading the entirety of Wuthering Heights by Thursday. I'm kind of sure I can do it but the thought fills me with dread. I have picked it up a couple of times but I just can't get into it. Ah well, maybe having the pressure on will work and I will speed through it like a cartoon swot. Or I will end up feeling like my eyes are going to fall out of my head, onto the page and out of the room. I will let you know what happens. In all honesty though, I think the latter is fairly rare. In Penryn at least.

Oh, today I read out my piece on one night stands. For some reason I get very nervous when I read out in class which is bizarre because I have no difficulty just speaking out. I think having the paper in my hands just puts pressure on and I feel as if I am going to run out of breath. All very strange. But I had good feedback so that was beneficial. One guy asked me, 'Is that what you really believe?' And I have to say that I don't know. To be honest, I just liked the title and so went from there. But I do believe now that a one night stand isn't the best of ideas, certainly not with a stranger. I suppose it depends on why the person is having the experience. If it is just for sex then it seems like a bad idea, but then it also seems a bad idea if it is with the hope of going into a relationship as too uch has happened too quickly. I don't know, if I were asked the same question a few years ago my response would have been very different. But now, I feel quite different. I think if you know why you are doing what you're doing and you're honest with yourself about it, then it's all OK. But if you have a one night stand hoping for something to come (no pun intended) after it then you are setting yourself up for a fall. Anyway, that's my thought for the day and on that note, I will head off and tackle my assignment for tomorrow.

xx

Something's a little bit wrong.

I’ve just come in from picking up a birthday card for one of my friends in WH Smith where I stumbled across the weirdest magazine. There is a magazine called ‘Murder Most Foul’ and it’s full of real life murder stories. Its kind of like all the nastiest stories you would find in Take a Break or Chat, you know things like, ‘My husband cut off my legs and I watched him feed them to the dog’ or ‘I killed my neighbour…on her new carpet.’ Things like that. Anyway, I was flicking through this magazine with a look of what some may perceive as gormless but I think of as being utter disdain (mouth open and nose slightly wrinkled) reading story titles such as ‘Jane comes face to face with her axe attacker after 30 years.’ I then saw the most inappropriate and disturbing headline of ‘Daddys got a Christmas surprise for you!’ I stood and scanned through the story getting the general gist that it was about a man in some state in America who murdered his four children on Christmas Eve. Now, I’m known to have a somewhat dark interest but this was too much even for me. For one thing, the headline actually turned my stomach because it was just sensationalising the most heinous of crimes. The inclusion of an exclamation mark was the part that really bothered me. Secondly, this magazine was filled page to page with murder stories, which makes me wonder who on earth reads it? I flicked through the pages to see what the advertisements were for to see if I could suss out the demographic of such a publication but there weren’t any. It was issue 62 as well so it’s obviously been going for quite some time. I think it would be almost more acceptable if it focused on the psyche of murderers and any correlation in killings but instead it just glorifies the crime, turning them into almost fictional works. I suppose that the magazine has to seek the approval of families and friends of victims before the stories are published. But the person who the story is focused around, the victim themselves obviously can’t give their consent. And I’m sure that most would not want their demise to become a two-page feature in a magazine called ‘Murder Most Foul.’ I don’t know, maybe since I sometimes watch films in which there is intense violence (American History X and Hostel spring to mind) I can’t really pass judgement on this. But I just felt very concerned about the very existence of this kind of publication. And it was one of three in the same series. Part of me wanted to buy it to show people but the other part of me didn’t want to invest money in such a cash in on crime.

Anyway, aside from that, today is the start of a new week and I’m pretty excited about it. I had a really good weekend, which has set me in good steed. I went to see The Little Shop of Horrors on Friday night performed by a local amateur dramatics group. It was excellent. I had seen it before and it’s quite a daunting piece to put on effectively, particularly because of the inclusion of a talking Venus fly trap. But the group was fantastic. The sets looked great with posters for films of the 50’s in which the action is set, and were manoeuvred so that the audience could see both the inside and outside of the shop and the entire performance was flawless. However, one of the best moments was during the interval when I went to get a drink. The woman in front of me turned behind her with a look of panic and called to someone, ‘Oh Joe, is you mum in tomorrow? I really need to see her about that cellophane.’ I can’t get across the urgency with which this was said but it was all quite bizarre. I don’t think cellophane should ever be a word spoken with any urgency at all. But maybe that’s just me.

So that was Friday evening. I then spent Saturday researching an article for Social Anxiety Disorder, which was quite successful and I enjoyed doing. Then I headed home, had my dinner and went into town to meet some friends for drinks. We ended up going back to a friend’s house and playing this Playstation game – SingStar. It’s kind of like karaoke where you have to sing along and then it rates your singing at the end. It’s a great way to spend a night. I then passed out and woke up on a settee in the foetal position. Always a good way to see in a Sunday.
So then Sunday morning was, naturally, a time to play Poker. This was probably quite a painful experience for everyone else involved since I had never played before so the game was punctuated with, ‘Oh, no Liam you can’t do that.’ I got the hang of it after a while and I’m glad I’ve been introduced to the addiction of such a game.

Then I slumped home and did some work before going out to fireworks in the evening. The fireworks were in the most ideal situation on the beach and we sat on benches outside a bar/café with drinks watching them with my friend’s eight year old son. I think having a child around at times like that is fantastic because it adds an element of excitement to the whole thing. He was really enjoying them and it made me think about how such simple things mean so much to you when you’re young and even now, as adults, we get the same sense of enjoyment from the same things. It was lovely. Anyway, then we headed back to Frea’s and I nearly got my car hit by missing the turning for her house. We stayed for a while and played more poker. I can see this being a downward spiral to gambling for me. So, that’s the lot for now.

xx

Nothing says, 'I miss you' like a shit ceramic.

Last night my housemate’s car battery died. So this morning I drove us down to Motor World (quite a grand title for what was really just a few reasonably stacked shelves of miserable looking objects) to find a replacement. We found her battery, which weighed a ton, lugged it back to the car and threw it in before going to look at some of the other shops. Neither of us had been to this part of the town before and, in all honesty, I’m not sure we’ll return. The shops were pretty run down and everyone looked like someone had used their face to open a can of beans. Not a pretty bunch, in stark contrast to the beautiful day. Anyway, we popped into the pound shop which I think was false advertising since there was a statue of a dragon which probably came up to my neck (in height) for £499. It was the ugliest thing of the day, which is saying something, and I had no idea who’d buy something so vile. It looked kind of like a gargoyle. But for the home. Horrible. However, all was not lost. I managed to find an equally grotesque ashtray, which had a skeleton, legs-akimbo, sculpted into the base. It was the sluttiest skeleton I’ve seen for a while. For £1.50, I had to have it knowing my friend James would love and appreciate it more than anyone else could ever wish to.

Maybe this needs some explaining. A few years ago, lets say 4 for that is how long ago it was, I stumbled across this ornament which was a coffin. It looked like a container for tobacco or weed or something. It was about 20com long and had a removable lid, which had two skeletons having sex on. The female skeleton (identified by her long hair) was on top of the male skeleton bursting out of the coffin and bursting into her. It was a beautiful sight. So I bought it. James and I thought it was a great idea to take it out one evening and use it as a conversation starter in bars after a few drinks. So we did. We would be sat one end of a table and he would slide it down, with quite a speed, before asking the people whose elbows it hit ‘Is that one yours or ours?’ Obviously, no one ever quibbled that it was ours and we were pleased to hear any suggestions as to what it could be used for. The best was, ‘Ashes for a loved one,’ which was a bit worrying. Anyway, seeing this stunning ashtray, I knew I had to send it to him to let him know I was thinking of him. Nothing says, ‘I miss you,’ like a shit ceramic. Oh, while I’m on the topic of props that we’d take with us on an evening out I remember something else. James had once asked me to record something for him and the only video I could find was one that my Mum had written ‘Princess Di’s Funeral’ on. Reading between the lines, I deduced this was probably the funeral of Princess Diana and recorded over it having confirmed with my Mum that she had fulfilled her taped funeral quota for the month. I then met James after work and handed him the tape. After a few drinks, the sliding of the video began as did the drunken, ‘Is that yours or ours?’ It was great. Someone asked him, ‘Why are you carrying that around with you on a Saturday night?’ To which he replied, ‘Just in case.’ The man kind of nodded and backed away like we were about to burn him in a shellsuit.

Anyway, there’s something about ceramics that I have an attachment to. When I was working, every Friday my friend Hannah and I would pick someone in the office to buy a gift for with a value no greater than £1. We would drive into town, her hands sweating in anticipation (mine because they were always sweaty) and race to the charity shops. On a 45 minute lunch it was quite an impressive feat to hit each of the 765 charity shops in the high street to ensure the quality of the gift was the highest. Then we would race back to work and present said gift. This was usually met with a look that said, ‘What the fuck is that?’ But we insisted that the ornament took pride of place on the person’s desk. Sometimes this took the persuasion of a used car salesman. In fact, most of the time it did. For some reason, no one wanted a grubby china pot with a dead eyed girl lounging on the lid. Even the filthy boiled egg cover with a tabby cat on the front didn’t have a high demand. Some people don’t know quality when they see it. Some would argue two of those people were Hannah and I. We would argue quite the contrary and often did when threats to throw our gifts in the bin manifested.

My advice is, if you know someone who is a bit low, bit of a sad sack and needs cheering up go and find the ugliest thing you can and hand it to them. There is a split second in which they think you’re serious and then a laugh, which is definitely worth the £1 spent. It’s great and I think every office should have a Charity Shop Friday. Just steer clear of underwear. We once saw a sign that said, ‘Due to hygiene reasons we no longer exchange underwear’ but that’s another story. As is one in a sex shop saying, ‘Unfortunately we are unable to refund or exchange non-faulty dildos and butt plugs.’ It’s grim those signs have to be made in the first place, I mean WHO RETURNS THOSE THINGS?! Ugh.

xx

Return of the annoying girl.

Oh. My. God. That wretched girl I wrote about the other day (the one who wouldn't let her friend do any work and kept asking inane questions, see 'I have a problem.') is in the library again and this time sat in my eye line. I swear she has typed about 10 words since I have been here which is about half an hour. She opens a book, closes it. Looks around the room. Looks back at the screen. Then talks to her friend. Then opens the book. Closes it. Logs onto myspace and scrolls through ALL her friends' profiles. Then looks round the room. I can't go on. See, the problem I have is that I have so much to be doing and the fact that she seems to have nothing to do grates on me quite harshly. I don't know, perhaps I am being a complete crazy but I just find it really annoying. I mentioned it to a friend of mine the other day and she said 'well, she's probably just a first year.' Which I guess, I was kind of the same when I studied my undergrad course but it still seems wrong. I mean, why did I have that time to waste? Oh, she's on the move now, harassing someone else like some sort of computer-pest.

Anyway, I digress. Yeah, so I was thinking about my undergraduate course the other day and summarised that it could have been condensed into just two years at most. There was a lot of time that I wasn't doing much other than getting into more and more debt. But, like anything else, I suppose education is a business and they want the maximum amount of money that they can get. It's not good. So, thinking and reminiscing about my previous 3 years at Uni I was thinking how different the social aspect is this time with a Masters. In my undergrad course I was very much part of a clique. I only ever went anywhere with the same few people and, although I didn't feel lost without them, it always felt as if I should be with them rather than investing time with anyone else. I don't regret it at all but living in that way was very limiting and meant that our friendships became very fraught, especially when we moved into a shared house together. Now though I feel a lot more independent and can focus more on my work, the reason I chose to study a Masters in the first place. I remember reading in The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho that when we see people everyday, we start to want the person to change, to become someone we can justify spending all our time with. But we should never want anyone to change if we are truly interested in them. I suppose being so close only to a few people is limiting because we have so many sides to our personality that we seek company for each of these. By only being in close contact with a few people, we start to project other wishes onto them and may end up resenting them for not fulfilling our requirements. That all sounds a bit Dawsons Creek I realised as I read it back but I reckon it's true. And that is that.

xx

Cannibalism is a good thing.

I mentioned on a previous post about my cannibalism essay. So here is it in it's full glory.

Cannibalism is a Good Thing.

Cannibalism has long been seen as taboo in Western society. Many people are outraged and sickened at the thought of one human being making the conscious decision to eat another. This essay will disprove such beliefs and explain why essentially cannibalism is a good thing.
One of the fundamental factors opposing cannibalism is that it is behaviour completely alien to our own culture. Many believe that cannibals are freaks or monsters and should be treated as outcasts of society. But the voices that cry this are the voices that quiver at the mere mention of the word ‘change.’ In some countries the cow is a sacred animal but here we are happy to slice up the carcass, slap the meat in a bun, and serve it with fries. What is perceived as wrong is not always as linear as it seems and often with hindsight we see the errors in our ways. Our culture has seen countless changes, shifts and alterations and will undoubtedly continue to do so. We have seen women become equal to their male counterparts after years of oppression, the emancipation of the black community following the injustice of slavery and an embrace of gay men and women after years of isolation. We do not need to fear the difference of cannibalism but instead treat these people with the respect and tolerance we have shown in the past
For many, cannibalism is seen as unhygienic and dirty. Those who eat human flesh are presumed to be making themselves prone to millions of diseases. However with the right curing methods, preparation routines and cooking times the flesh is no more likely to cause harm than chicken, beef, lamb or turkey. Cannibals are not the zombies we see in horror films munching through someone’s skull while sat behind them on a bus. And just as anyone would cook the finest rump steak to their satisfaction, they are a people who ensure their meal is one they can savour.
Finally, cannibalism is often associated with murder. However, cannibalism is simply the act of one human eating the flesh of another. It is not murder. A cannibal may find a carcass to eat on the hard shoulder of the motorway, in a retirement home or in a hospital bed during visiting hours. To dispose of these bodies in the traditional way will only take up time, space and money. The act of cannibalism is meeting not only the needs of an individual but also those of a culture that is getting more and more claustrophobic. In other countries there are prisons full of prisoners sentenced to death row. These executions are, again, costing time and money that could be spent on better education, better hospitals and better housing. They are filling up copious land with the bodies of criminals. Would it not be better to sell the cadavers to cannibals donating the proceeds to charity? To simply dispose of something that could benefit someone else is a notion that we as Westerners are strongly against. We recycle cups, boxes, phones, cartons, bottles, papers and glass among countless other materials. But something as irreplaceable as the human body we discard without a second thought.
In conclusion, cannibalism can only be seen as a good thing because it allows for our culture to grow in yet another direction. Change is a welcome concept in a society in which every street corner boasts a McDonalds, Burger King, Starbucks or Costa Coffee. Cannibalism is a lifestyle choice of which we need not be afraid. It is not dirty, disgusting or disheartening but simply another person's attitude and belief system. There is no cruelty entwined with cannibalism but instead an enjoyment of a human body from which the soul has passed. It is not unethical or unhygienic and nor should it be unwelcome but simply seen as another element of an ever diversifying culture.

DON'T GRATE A LEMON.

Grating a lemon isn't as easy as it sounds. That's the lesson I learnt today almost to the detriment of my knuckles. Not nice and not recommended.

No more gin.

Four double gins and a double vodka is not a good idea before 7pm. That's the lesson I've learnt today. And it's one I will make reference to in the future. I thought I'd treat myself to a drink after having a long lecture and a meeting. However, one drink turned into another which turned into another and another, Not good. In the middle of this drinking bonanza I had a meeting with my course leader about an article I want to write about Social Anxiety Disorder. Even though I was dying to go to the toilet for about half of this meeting, I learnt a lot. I had originally planned to write this article for one particular magazine but, after speaking to my course leader, I found that the article may in fact be more relevant for another magazine which made me think about how to write in future using research and findings to lead me to the target audience. I guess that sounds kind of obvious, but sometimes the obvious is right under your nose and completely overlooked. So there we go. I am now going to look at different magazines I could send this to and see what changes I should make. I'm hoping the gin will wear off soon.