Strangely Satisfied

I had a very odd feeling this morning, very odd indeed...

Despite getting up late, the bus being late, my train being delayed by 20 minutes, having to get on a packed train surrounded by sweaty angry people, and thus being late for work, I felt strangely satisfied with my lot. And I also felt that it was one of those days where I could accomplish anything. The opportunity to stop off and get a grande chai latte from Starbucks - the thinking was I was late anyway, so lets use the hanging around time to do something nice - and the empty train on the third leg of my insanely complicated route to work may have had something to do with my mindset, but whatever went on, it was good.

My first thought for what I'd like to accomplish today was to ressurect this blog. I like to think I write good, interesting and entertaining posts on the various forums I frequent, and often wonder about collecting together my random musings. Like the Cross City Line (especially cross this morning), it's hardly likely to be a regular thing, but it feels good to have posted, and that's what blogging is all about.

Shleeeepy Hamster

I am such a sleepy hamster today - have been for weeks. I can't be doing with working full time and the change in seasons. It's getting dark at 4 o'clock! It's not right I tells ya - not natural!

If I could have my way I'd go to bed at 2am and get up around 11am every day. And it wouldn't get dark until after 9pm, like the height of summer. And the weather would be like Southern California every day - reliable and wonderful.

People will less-than-perfect weather should be allowed to hibernate through the winter...

The worst look-a-like ever?

Is this for real? Worst still, it's the beeb taking up valuable space with the ravings of lunatics. Oooh, I'm quite a large beardy used-to-be long-haired man - I look just like Meatloaf. Rock on!

Back like a side of bacon baby

So, just a seven month break between blog entries... quite good going for me. I'm dreadful at commitment to any kind of activity, but writing diaries is the hardest thing for me. I aspire to it and think its admirable in anyone whatever they might be writing about - from the Samuel Peeps and Salam Paxs of the world right down to the rather disturbing Ex-Boyfriend Project... well, maybe not that one...

I feel the need to entertain inform and educate, and my friends and people I hassle on the street would say that I can do all those things, on a good day. I love blogs that can do all those things - excllent examples being Dibbie.com and Nice But Wrong. But most of the time I don't want to reflect on my daily thoughts and feelings. My internal landscape isn't a place I care to visit much. It's grey and dreary with the occasional random volcanic erutption... sort of like a cross between ancient Pompei and 'modern' Hull (the latter being quite a stretch of the imagination by itself).

So lets keep this lighthearted at least until I'm in a real stonk, or indeed a wotabarr (n. A mood or display of sullen aloofness or withdrawal: stayed home in a wotabarr; a case of the wotabarrs; Frank is in a wotabarr again). To this end, I learnt last week that mice can sing and that Freddie the hamster is being pimped out by a pet shop in Swansea. It's all good furry fun.

worries

Ok ladies - when should we begin using anti-aging creams? When will it be too late to regain our youthful skin? When do we cross the line between buying some slap in a jar from Boots or finding out if a chemical face peel is as painful as it sounds? It's something that concerns me when I see women like Natalie Imbruglia on the telly talking about laugh lines and frown lines (maybe apathy could save the MTV generation from aging...) She's a beautiful 30-something and young-looking too. Is that because she uses the product or did they get her to front the campaign because she doesn't need it? It's very confusing...

But really, when does the time come? Surely it's too late when you start to notice the wrinkles... maybe you didn't notice them in time because of your failing eyesight or because you barely get time to wash let alone anything more, due to the 2.4 screaming kids, the school-run, the laundry, the shopping, the cleaning, holding down a career and trying to maintain a social life... *shudder* I bet you if you scoured the beauty companies' websites day-in-day-out for a year you'd never find the answer. They'll never tell you when to begin your anti-aging beauty regime and they want you to worry about it like me, so that you'll have heaps of flabby wrinkles so they can sell you their products. A-ha! Their evil conspiracy has been discovered!! Just as I suspected all along!

For me personally I'm confident I won't get very wrinkly in my old age. This is because I have very greasy skin and the grease prevents skin from drying out, which is what wrinkles are all about. So while I had to put up with horrible acne for most of my youth, you beautiful people will be holding back the excess skin with clothes pegs. Either that or opt out and die young. It's something to look forward to :o)

... If only beauty was more important to me, then maybe I'd get real pleasure out of that thought...

In the news...

I just wanted to add my two pence to the ongoing Michael Jackson saga. It's something I think we should all consider as we make up our minds about him as the evidence is revealed and the arguments continue, in court and around the world... the man has a theme park in his back garden! If that's not damning evidence I don't know what is.

So the accuser isn't reliable and his Mum is in it for the money. Jackson might not be guilty of every charge but the old adage is usually true - where there's smoke there's fire. But really, it amazes me that parents are not more reponsible - they always told me to stay away from strangers, and they don't come much stranger than Jackson...

As all the best court reports say, the trial continues....

Well really...

... a spanking fresh new blog to fill with my trivialities and already signs of under-enthusiasm and tardy behaviour. But that's what we vanishing hamsters do - when the pressure gets too much we go and hide; either back to bed or if the danger is too great we skip off, fast as you like on stubby little legs and escape over the border to Mexico. It's where most escaped hamsters end up y'know - they like the climate and the night-life.

I digress (which will be pretty standard in this blog). What I wanted to do was give you a little snippet or two (don't worry - it won't hurt, much) of information about me. Some of you complusive blog readers may know me from my zany escapades in the House of Orange. You'll remember that I am a bubbly care-free lazy student, much happier to sun myself on a Californian beach than do anything remotely like work. Well the times they are a-changing buddy. I am now an under-employed and under-appreciated graduate in that fearsome arena called the World of Work. I am a graduate in a stupid job that any monkey with a couple of GCSE's could do with his eyes closed, and I swear, most of my colleagues are not on the same evolutional scale as me. Worse still this job is, on the whole, easy money so I'm satisfied to stay for the time being. I'm never the one to push myself or challenge myself if I can avoid it, so I'm stuck in a home-made rut.

It's not all bad news though, far from it. While my social life has all but disappeared - the few friends left the area when they graduated and who wants to hang out with colleagues? - my love life has gone from strength to strength. Co-habitation is a struggle sometimes but's it's all worth it to have someone to come home to who really cares, and he does y'know. I am lucky because I know that where I lay my head really is home - Dibbie's name is on the mortgage. So I have security - emotional and physical - which is a blessing.

And yet I get so stressed. It manifests itself in a crazy assortment of physical symptoms and I feel like there's nothing I can do to get rid of it. Managing it is a daily struggle...

But more on that another time - talking about it just stesses me out. And I have to leave you with a 'to be continued' or else you'd never come say hi again, what with such blog competition as the fabulous life of a gay in London or the fabulous life of a call-girl in London (one and the same, perhaps?!). So I bid you a fond farewell for the time being, and hope you'll come back. I will have links and pictures and all that good shiznit too, in time.

And with that, the hamster vanishes...