Me, moi, ich, etc.
The icon says it all.
(I should clarify at this point that I don't condone the watching of 28 Days Later, because it really isn't the film I had hoped it would be. Sure, there were some moments that stuck in my mind but there was nothing "ground-breaking" about it. This, however, is a spiffy icon and has broken more ground than forest conservationists.)
I've got the opportunity to go back to Bristol. A terrible place that is full of pollution, crime, drug use and prostitution, and a city centre teeming with miniature skaters and girls in fairy wings. The problem is... well... I want go. Nothing is stopping me; I've got a mother willing to pay for the deposit on a flat, I can pull together employment to pay the rent and once there I can return to college.
It would mean I could take English again, call in sick and never show up, bitch and moan about hating educational institutes, seethe when anyone in a position of authority tells me to do something I don't agree with, and all the things I miss. Yet, at the same time, I've got to leave my family and all the guilty little comforts I've taken for granted behind. No more computer, no more games consoles, no more cheesy videos from the store down the street, no more DVDs at all actually, and certainly no more LiveJournal. I'm a materialistic person, I can admit that with no shame and very little regret. I need my junk. And sleeping on a blanket without so much as a toaster for company doesn't seem like the best way to spend an evening.
I'd need a roommate, someone to help pay the bills and kit out the place. I could steal a microwave from this place, perhaps get a loan from my mother to buy some other essentials, but is it really worth the effort? Hanging out on the Green and laughing about skewed ideas for Matrix-style porn escapades with a few friends isn't the best argument to up haul my life and move back, but it's still strangely compelling.
If I could go back for a few days, see some people, act like I'd never left, I'd be happy. It would give me a basis on whether or not I should go back for good, or if I could be happy with the occasional visit when I'm wanted.
You don't meet people often that work on the same wave-length as your own mind, especially with the way I think, so now I've got no one close to share the ADD inspired thoughts and long prattling talks I'm stumped for everything. All inspiration, all enthusiasm. I'm bored here and no amount of Ninja movies and abnormal -- if somewhat magical -- job interviews is going to change that.
I'll just have to work something out, even if it means kidnapping the entire city and moving it into the sea just at the back of our house. The residents will adapt, with time.
(I should clarify at this point that I don't condone the watching of 28 Days Later, because it really isn't the film I had hoped it would be. Sure, there were some moments that stuck in my mind but there was nothing "ground-breaking" about it. This, however, is a spiffy icon and has broken more ground than forest conservationists.)
I've got the opportunity to go back to Bristol. A terrible place that is full of pollution, crime, drug use and prostitution, and a city centre teeming with miniature skaters and girls in fairy wings. The problem is... well... I want go. Nothing is stopping me; I've got a mother willing to pay for the deposit on a flat, I can pull together employment to pay the rent and once there I can return to college.
It would mean I could take English again, call in sick and never show up, bitch and moan about hating educational institutes, seethe when anyone in a position of authority tells me to do something I don't agree with, and all the things I miss. Yet, at the same time, I've got to leave my family and all the guilty little comforts I've taken for granted behind. No more computer, no more games consoles, no more cheesy videos from the store down the street, no more DVDs at all actually, and certainly no more LiveJournal. I'm a materialistic person, I can admit that with no shame and very little regret. I need my junk. And sleeping on a blanket without so much as a toaster for company doesn't seem like the best way to spend an evening.
I'd need a roommate, someone to help pay the bills and kit out the place. I could steal a microwave from this place, perhaps get a loan from my mother to buy some other essentials, but is it really worth the effort? Hanging out on the Green and laughing about skewed ideas for Matrix-style porn escapades with a few friends isn't the best argument to up haul my life and move back, but it's still strangely compelling.
If I could go back for a few days, see some people, act like I'd never left, I'd be happy. It would give me a basis on whether or not I should go back for good, or if I could be happy with the occasional visit when I'm wanted.
You don't meet people often that work on the same wave-length as your own mind, especially with the way I think, so now I've got no one close to share the ADD inspired thoughts and long prattling talks I'm stumped for everything. All inspiration, all enthusiasm. I'm bored here and no amount of Ninja movies and abnormal -- if somewhat magical -- job interviews is going to change that.
I'll just have to work something out, even if it means kidnapping the entire city and moving it into the sea just at the back of our house. The residents will adapt, with time.