I’m currently doing revision for an exam in the morning on prejudice and discrimination and I’m going through research on desegregation when something astounding hit me.
Why is the original word segregation and the opposite desegregation? Why was the word that came first, the one to describe people being separated and alienated instead of the one to describe us living in peace?
It’s an awful realisation that our default setting is one of hostility with the urge to advance ourselves at the expense of others. Maybe we should try to stop that, don’t you think?
If you’ve only ever lived one day in your whole life then of course you’re going to be afraid of death. If you got a job at 18 and retired at 65 then of course you’re going to want to live to 100. If you dropped out of school and flittered between meaningless jobs for ten years until you got someone pregnant and you had to stay in a job to support the family, of course you’re going to wish you had more time.
If your life never changes and you never take any risks then of course you’re going to want more than what you’ve had.
I spent two years as the salesman who works 70-hour weeks and fills his weekends with drug-fuelled rampages. I’ve spent the last three years and will spend the next year as the poor student who lives in squalor and drowns in assignments but still manages to go out and get drunk at least once a week. During my life I’ve been the devoted and loving boyfriend who would do anything for the girl he’s with and I’ve also been the jerk who tries to fuck anything that moves at the first chance he gets.
Once next year’s done, I’m going to spend at least a year as the waste-of-space hippie who’s running around the world doing fuckall that’s really constructive. By that time I’ll be 25 I’ll either extend that time or I might try something new, guess we’ll have to see.
Well, I’ve started a Come Dine With Me-esque competition with my housemates where a different one of us makes a different smoothie for every day of the week and we rate each other in order to see who’s was the best. So far it’s going well and it’s actually really fun so that’s at least one good thing this week and if that was it, to be honest I’d even be happy with that.
Sadly, my friend bailed on recording at his for the weekend but it left me open for when a girl I’d been talking to asked to go on a date, I went and had fun but to be honest, not really feeling it but she is a lovely girl so why the fuck not? If she asks me to meet up again, I’ll have to say yes anyway so I guess that could go either way.
I also got the result from the assignment I was forced into putting off until the last night and I actually got a first! My first one of the third year as well so somehow, being made to procrastinate actually made me focus more in the little time I did have and work better. That’s a big fucking win for the yaysayers.
And finally, the little things. I’ve gone to mcdonalds at 3am. I’ve gone training every day and have been absolutely killing it. I’ve smoked a shitload of weed and managed to go out on wednesday with just one of my flatmates, still get hammered and somehow wake up without a hangover again. If that happens a third time then I’m saying that it’s down to saying yes too.
And it went off without a hitch. I agreed to go on too many dates during the time I was home but somehow, one of them bailed and one asked to meet up tonight before I left for Swansea instead of yesterday, so it actually all ended up perfectly! And somehow, with all of the things that I did, all the people i hung out with and all of the alcohol I consumed, I now find myself back in Swansea with 4050 words of a 5000 word assignment done, so this’ll be easily finished by 3am, and then it’s off to bed ready to tackle tomorrow!
This is the last update on this topic for a little while now, I wasn’t going to do this many but I guess I got overexcited. From now on they’ll just be a weekly rundown. I look forward to having more to write about in the coming days.
I’m currently doing some research for an assignment on Posthumanism and stumbled across an incredible article about autobiographies and essentially why some are successful and others aren’t and according to this, it basically all boils down to how evocative the writer is.
It got me thinking, do I write that well? When someone reads the words that I’ve put to paper (or clumsily jabbed onto a keyboard) can they really smell my dreams? Are the words just lazily seeping into your brain like the incessant dripping of a tap that’s just out of sight or are they crashing through the window of your mind like a Phillipino hurricane? Am I one of the people able to turn words into me-tinted glasses and give the smallest part of me to someone else? I hope so, I truly do.
A few things have been getting me down of late and I know just how to fix everything in one fell swoop. I’m going to put more effort in, to everything. I’ll fix my relationship problems and be a better boyfriend, It’s what she deserves. I’ll fix my university problems and be a better student, It’s what my parents deserve. I’ll write more, think more, do more in every venture that I’m looking to get into at the moment, It’s what I deserve. I’ve been a lazy, procrastinating cunt and I deserve all the unhappiness I’ve had. If you want something, take it. I’ve always said this to anyone who’s asked me for help and It’s about time I start to drink my own medicine, you know? I want a lot of things and by fucking god, I’m taking them all. This starts when I wake up tomorrow at exactly 9am if my alarm is to be believed and If It’s the last thing I do, I am going to get what I want and revel in my own happiness and the perfection of my own existence.
I did not mean to fall asleep in or fail to be present for every lecture you’ve ever given me but I was struck by the startling realisation on my very first day of university that I do not need you. I do not need your archaic establishment of knowledge and learning. I will write my own future, one set apart from yours and what your employer wishes for me. I will achieve greatness by my own means because I want it and it wants me.