Tuesday, June 29, 2004


Well, I have joined the gym. Last Tuesday, I went to my induction, and on Wednesday, Friday and Sunday of last week I worked through the entirety of my programme. Three times in one week can't be too bad! I'm hoping to go again sometime today, and then also tomorrow, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday this week. I'll see how I feel like on Saturday and Sunday mornings though - depending on whether I go out or not.

With all this work and exercise malarkey, I'm not on the internet half as much as I used to be, which is probably a good thing, because, in my opinion, or, at least, in my case, it should only ever be used as a pastime, and, for me, it was slowly becoming an all-encompassing act of slack. With the sharp increase in physical activity within my life, I've been left with little time, or even want, to use the internet. Fair enough, I have been online almost two hours this morning, but that's because it's my day off and I know all I really NEED to do is go to the gym. I also have to get my hair cut, but I figure I can go down and have that done when my brother gets back from school, or possibly on Wednesday or Thursday after I've finished work. It would be better done today, however. Motivate thyself, Russell!

However, amongst all the responsibility of work, and the guilt leading to working-out, I have managed to watch Dog Soldiers, Series 2 of Red Dwarf, Android and So Close - all of which I liked. I also watched Jeepers Creepers 2, which was shit, but minutely watchable, if only for the hope that something truly magnificent would be just around the corner. This hope was just about as futile as the studio's pressure on Salva to make the movie, and create a movie franchise to compete with the Jasons and the Freddys (I'm guessing). As Kresta pointed out though, the fantastical devil-bat creature that is 'The Creeper' is not likely to scare a viewer to the extreme that characters such as Jason and Freddy, who are both essentially human at their source, despite the transformations that have brought them to their current horror status, and, therefore, are much more disturbing since the deviancy of their roles is withing the boundaries of our own species. Or something like that. Anyway, that was slightly better than I Could Read The Sky, which I had to turn off after about 10 minutes because it was the most boring piece of shite I had even witnessed. And, oddly, felt a little too much like Postman Pat had been one of its major influences.

Aside from DVD-viewing, I have also finished reading GB84, had my Streets album (A Grand Don't Come For Free) delivered - and promptly listened to (GREAT!). I've also seen Prisoner of Azkaban - still feel that Chamber of Secrets is the best of the series so far, but that the third is better than the first.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Saturday, June 19, 2004

it's amazing...

I've managed to worm my way through 8 dvds from MSN DVD Rental in the last 7 days. A record for me, I think. That's included the viewing of the Evil Dead trilogy - the entirety of the third instalment was spent trying to recognise who Sheila was... the closing credits were a godsend... - both series of Phoenix Nights - Peter Kay is as good as I remember he was on The Big Breakfast... - and the last two discs of Boogiepop Phantom. Other than that, I haven't really done much. None of the body toning exercise that I was planning to do at the beginning of my summer break... However, when going into town today to pick up Darren's Father Day's present, I took it upon myself to stop off at Medina Leisure Centre and pick up some info on the gym (or 'Tone Zone') there. I've decided to get a 'One' card, and will do so on Tuesday. This will mean that I should be able to visit the gym on a regular basis, and, hopefully, a habit that will keep me healthy and fit, rather than disgusting and fat. Roll on Tuesday! I would do it sooner, but I'm working on Sunday and Monday, so I shall leave my pivotal day of self-improvement until Tuesday when not only will I join the gym, but get my hair cut, I think. I'm not sure what style I want though. I do have two days to chew that over...

Now I'm having an inner debate on whether to watch TV or try and finish GB84. As my nan's 'Motown Classics' CD compilation draws to a close, and I am left with records that sound decidedly un-Motown, that decision becomes harder. I'm not sure why. The CD's finished now. Well, the third of three. Party shuffle, here we come. Now... is that television-age, or book-age...?

Thursday, June 17, 2004

30 days...

5 days on from my last post, and I'm still as knackered out from work. Between then and now, I've been able to fit in managing my finances, 2 hrs sunbathing, reading some David Peace, and watching both series of Pheonix Nights, as well as The Fox and the Hound. I'm currently watching Boogiepop Phantom and trying to find the energy to do something a little more productive. Like reading, or writing. Or something. I'm knackered. I'm not sure how much longer this self-confessed slacker can take a workload that he is no longer use to... can I really manage more than another two months? I'm finding it hard to imagine managing working another week with these hours. I'm not sure whether it is merely laziness that is causing these feelings of incapability, or something else. I'm thinking of joining my local gym at the weekend, though. Hopefully the exercise will help me to be a little more energetic. No doubt I'll just wear myself out even more. But I feel as if I have to try and be more motivated. Problem is... no matter how hard I try to motivate myself, I usually fail... so I'm not sure whether this is going to work at all. I hope it will.

I'll get back to Boogiepop.


N.B. I'm hoping to work on my Top 10s this weekend. I've kinda ignored them recently. *whimpers*

Saturday, June 12, 2004

I knew this would happen. It's been eleven days since my last blog, and funnily enough, that blog was made before I returned home to the island, and before I started working again. For the first couple of days... it was fine. I worked only Thursday, Friday and Saturday, with 8 hours each day. Which, as I said... was fine. I had Sunday off, and met up with Jim and Ben (avec his new girlfriend, Sian - makes my single status all the more aggrovating... will there be any of my friends left, other than Jim, that can share this status with me!?) after a rather long hiatus. However, by Monday, my hours had increased a bucket load. In the space of 7 days, I will have worked 56 hours, which, for once, is officially more than what my grandmother has worked this week... and I'm tired. I'm really tired. And irritable through lack of social interaction.

On my first night back, I was forced into going to the cinema to see Day After Tomorrow. It was alright, though very farfetched. Special effects were amazing, but the sheer tweeness of the ending was a little dissatisfying. At least, that's what I think. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if I wasn't with my grandparents and my younger brother. Perhaps that sounds a little cruel and uncaring. Perhaps I don't care?

I did get to meet up with Jim and Ben (with Sian) again last night. And Chris too! Which was all very nice. My social circle seems to be expanding again... slowly but surely. I'm looking forward to when everybody is back on the Island... but fear it may be longer than I would like. Still, Kresta will be back at work next week, so hopefully I will feel a little bit better having a fellow university student friend to speak to, in person, on a regular basis.

I'm also currently hating Isle of Wight festival-goers. They keep coming into the shop in which I work, and buying alcohol, and flashing their little wristband ticket things about. Sure, they're helping to pay my wages (if you disregard their confusing me and letting them have a £17-odd bottle of vodka for £9.99... it would take too long to explain), but the fact that they are participating in such a large-scale social event kinda makes my isolation all the more obvious, and crushing any good feelings left in my life at the moment into a mushy pulp.

Anyways, I think I'm going to stop this rather unplanned babble (with no real sense of direction) and watch Evil Dead. It's not really the right time of day at this time of year to be watching this film. It needs to be dark and all thundery, and all scary like. It isn't. It's sunny, and if I'm not watching it with the volume turned up real loud, I can hear the musicians at that God-forsaken (or at least mé-forsaken) festival, and all the crowd having so much fun. My life sucks. *cries*

Tuesday, June 01, 2004

strange days

Today has been new for me in many ways. For a start, I was motivated. Ok, I didn't get up until nearly eleven o'clock today, but it was not long before I was showered and dressed, with my teeth brushed, ointments applied and bag packed for a trip to the town.

First up was Milldam. I needed to find out what exactly was on my reading list (or rather lists) for next year, and, to my horror, I found exactly what was on my reading list: rather a fucking lot. I was allowed some smugness since I've already read Wilkie Collins' The Woman In White, but I was still left with a Janice-inspired 'OH!MY!GOD!' voice ringing through my mind. I also had to check that reception had successfully changed my address... so hopefully, everything should be cool.

Then, onwards to McDonalds - for a lazy slacker student has to eat! Queue was fucking massive when I got in there. Hardly surprising on a half term holiday, maybe, but still highly annoying. I had some stupid bints behind me that didn't seem to realise that there was a place called Southampton, despite the fact that there seems to be some undying rivalry between them and their nationalised egos. Obviously, to these girls at least, this competition was dead, like their brains. Once I had had my inner outburst at that irritation, I'm met with a ratty middle-classed woman (wtf was she doing in McDonalds in the first place? - my apologies for a potentially insulting comment) complaining because she's had to wait for her food. If I was the person behind the counter, I would have gone and got her uncooked food and shoved it in that fucking trap of hers. Anyways, I was finally served. McChicken Premiere meal with a chocolate milkshake. I couldn't eat all of it though. Which was a shock, but then, given my diet of late, I am not surprised that my appetite has decreased. Milkshakes are pretty bloaty as well.

I forgot to mention the walk to McDonalds however. I've been in Portsmouth for at least 6, maybe 7, months, and if I haven't learnt to use Cascades as a means of moving through Commercial Road yet, then I'm not sure when I will. First was the charity nagger that always seem to be hanging around. I've already been sucked in by one for the RNIB, and a doorstep one for some deaf charity, so by donating £11 a month, I cannot afford to pay anymore to anymore charities. Luckily, the girl was pretty understanding, and not as pushy as others I have spoken to, and it was sorted quick. But I still feel that my privacy is being invaded in some way. Some people just like to walk through the street without being harassed by guilt trips.

Then there was the incense stick seller. Except, as he put it, he was not selling anything. Merely giving people his stock with the request for a donation... I'm not entirely sure whether he was selling legally acquired goods. Probably not. But he seemed nice. I gave him a £1. They're opium scented. I doubt I'll be using them. I've taken them out of their box and am going to leave them in my bathroom overnight. I realise that you are supposed to burn them, or at least think that you are supposed to, but can't be arsed, and hope that the scent, however faint, might take care of some of the damp smell. Though I'm not sure why I'm worried about that, since...

I'm moving out of halls tomorrow! It's kind of weird, because it's what I'd call my first proper 'moving out' experience. Packing all my stuff to leave home in September didn't feel weird, because it still felt like my home, and I could return anytime. The packing was also more or less under the control of my parents. If I remember rightly, the only bit I did was pick out which clothes I wanted to take, along with the videos, dvds, books etc. Everything else was done for me. Not so this time. In a way, the the clearing out of everything is almost therapeutic. And when I finish off the very last bits tomorrow, and clean my room before meeting my parents, perhaps even more so. I feel a little sad, but am also looking forward to next year, and the new house, and the new room. And the new everything. Exciting...

All this has meant that I've watched very little in terms of film. Last night, I watched Play Misty For Me on BBC1 for the first time. That was good. And I'm considering watching Cabaret on C4 later on tonight as well. Need to get up about sixish tomorrow morning though, to ensure that I'm prepared properly. So, I'll see what happens. However, when Sky's back within my grasp, slacking will be possible again. YAY!

the temporary intermission in what seems a rather short presentation

At 11 o'clock tomorrow, my room in halls will be inspected for the very last time. I will lock the door behind me for the very last time. I will walk out of the shitty (and usually broken) front doors for the last time. There will be a lot of last times, as the 'act' that was my first year at University comes to an end. This isn't really that big a deal, since the 'act' that was my first year at University ended nearly a week ago when it lost everything that was interesting about it. But I'm finding myself a little sad, and possibly regretful. Regrets that I didn't maximise the University experience by being a little more pro-active than passive. Regrets that I didn't cherish every single moment. Regrets that I didn't make more friends, and, for those that I did, that the friendship was so much stronger - that is not to say that all the friendships I've made are weak, merely that some could have been less weak and more strong. Regrets that I'm so damn freaky and hate having photographs taken - since it would have been nice to have memories that weren't as susceptible to the corruption of the mind.

I guess I can only look forward. Going back home will mean a time for reunion, and meeting up with those friends that I haven't seen for such a long time. So for that, I'm thankful. And hopefully, it will give me time to overcome my fear of cameras, be 'pro-active', appreciative, and whatnot. I guess in the meantime, it's a case of playing the waiting game though.