The 30 Day Blog Challenge! Well, I'm not one to let a good bandwagon just roll on by.

I'm not starting yet, and I'm going to cheat massively, but nonetheless the 30 day blog challenge is about to get underway. In honesty, I haven't finished the last challenge I set myself. There are still more than a few out there who didn't get their section of my little series of posts about friends, but nobody seems too distraught about it and I don't think the ones I haven't got to yet are readers so it's cool.

Now, I'm not one for the old 30 day challenge, I couldn't be arsed with that 30 day song challenge that went round facebook a couple of years ago. Instead, I created a facebook note and simply wrote all the answers in there. In honesty, this is more my métier:



But I'll soldier on regardless. Anyway, the slight problem I'm having is tailoring my 30 topics to suit. I've got 26 topics covering a range of subjects and writing styles so far - pilfered from fellow bloggers, various 30 day challenges and a couple of random topic generators. I'm going to spend time thinking of some more but any suggestions or requests are welcome. I'll probably start some time next week, or make it 31 topics and just do one every day of July, I haven't decided yet.

My list of topics (with their current working titles) is, in no particular order:

• Famous person I've been compared to (Holy Crap! You're Jesus Christ)
• Childhood pet (Tara)
• Top five places to live (Location, Location, Lo ... w Price)
• What band or musician is most important to me? (This album is literally the reason for my existence)
• Favourite books (Is This Just Fantasy?)
• Dream Wedding (It's a Nice Day)
• If I could have any job ... (FBI Operative, Standard)
• Top Ten Top Tens (Top Ten Top Tens)
• Cats or Dogs (Getting in Touch with my Feline Side)
• My Home Town (Home Town Blues)
• Celebrity crushes (Well, This Will Not be Awkward at all)
• Lyrics that apply (Sad Songs Say so Much: I hope you've got all day)
• Belief in "the one" (Holy shit! It's an Anagram of Neo! Mind. Blown.)
• Inspiration (So, you wrote these questions on the way to the interview then?)
• Fictional Characters (Life Mimicking Art: Or some equally pretentious bollocks)
• Places I have lived (Take Me Home)
• Concerts I've attended (I like that old time Rock and Roll)
• Writing my own songs (Now, what rhymes with pretentious bullcrap?)
• My life from someone else's point of view (Writing in the 2nd person)
• "What if... ?" (What if... ?)
• Pay or Job satisfaction (They hand you a paycheck every week, and steal a piece of your soul every day)
• What I would do with three months off (Unemployment is too stressful, I'll take a sabbatical)
• Brothers and Sisters (Oh, Brother!)
• A time I want to experience again (Took me all of three seconds to come up with an answer to this)
• When other people tell me what to do (Don't jump off the cliff, you say? Well...)
• Going to the movie alone (You know what? I was just running out of ideas)

So, I'll see you soon.

PS. as always, I've sprinkled my work with a light dashing of not-so-pop-culture references. 1,000 points are on offer for correctly identifying all the book/song/movie/TV quotes and references in the titles of these upcoming blogs.

Adios.

Final Nail In The Coffin.

Although graduation is yet to happen, this feels like the final toll of the bell for university: the great move out begins. Well, obviously not right now because I'm blogging not packing but I would suspect that by the time most of you read this I'll be at home in the bosom of my family once more.

This is great because I really do like being with my family, hence why I go to see them every weekend. They are the first friends I had and even though living in such close proximity to three other people can get testing, I wouldn't ever want to move too far away. On the other hand, last night was such a good one that when I finally wandered back to my room with dawn breaking around me, leaving my mates behind me it felt like marching towards death

This room, in which I have now slept for the last time, has witnessed so much emotion. This little hide-away, my inner sanctum, has allowed me to remove myself from the world whilst remaining in touching distance of it. Now I'm going back into solitary confinement in the prison that is life and I've done my share of that. I don't want to be that guy any more.

Random chance has seen fit to land me in a situation where I thought I'd never be. If I had the money I would now be more than willing to move away from Chesterfield. I always envisioned the day when I leave home but I never thought I'd want to go more than a few miles away. Most of my family live in that town and the closeness that comes from this is amazing. The one person who ever moved away was like me in a sense, she's the only one of my family I know who went to uni and when her course ended she just stayed where she was. The major difference is, it wasn't to be near mates because as far as I can tell she's not got any. She also clearly has very little love for the rest of the family, so the only role model I have in this moving away business is a terrible one.

Of course, even returning to the place where I've had such good times won't cease the endless march of time. If I come back to Leeds, a lot of the awesome people I know here will have dispersed, and I can't rule out the possibility of more leaving in the future.

This is the problem with becoming attached to human beings, they have lives of their own and can be wild and unpredictable at times.

You know, a lot of this blog has been how I don't want to leave uni because of being in love with a fellow student, but I'm used to living with a love unrequited, almost from the moment I start playing the game of love I'm prepared to lose. I'm sure someone's using loaded dice. At the death I find the thing I really can't do without is the other people, the most important people to me right now are not the ones I vowed to walk the whole world to find, but the ones I didn't even know I was looking for.

On Being George Lucas. And being friends with Mike Bassett.

Not that I am George Lucas or anything. Just that I can empathise with the pressure he's under. Now I'm not saying that billions of people will read this blog and wait for years in fretful anticipation of the next instalment and then shout at me when I do it "wrong". Of course not. But I've had a request, for the first time ever the task of writing has been placed upon me by someone other than a teacher or lecturer and I can feel some small fraction - perhaps a trillionth - of what George Lucas feels every day.

It is said that observation changes the nature of the thing which is observed and that is certainly true. Just look at my first entry in this blog, which I wasn't expecting to ever show to anyone. It is quite different to say the fifteenth one I did when I knew I had a readership, however small, and both are different to the first blog I wrote on another site, way back last summer and which I never intend anyone to read ever because it really is the most pointless bit of drivel in history. I say that a lot about my writing, but trust me this time I could not be more right. The point is, I'm different depending on who's reading and why. Therefore, when I write the rest of this post, I'm going to be getting that under the microscope feeling somewhat more than usual. And thus, this might not be my most sincere entry, although I'll do my best to stay true to what the fans want. And so, without further ado, Good Friends Episode III, Revenge of the Sith. (Episodes I and II).

Imp.

Based on your football team, of course, your name has been one thing holding up your segment of this mini-series. I really couldn't think of anything better but now you've forced my hand I'll just have to go with it.

Another reason why this has taken so long is that you are an enigma to me. We hang out a lot, largely because we both enjoy the atmosphere of the chaplaincy lounge so even if we weren't friends we'd still see a lot of each other. But despite this I feel like I don't really know you that well and things I do know baffle me. You're a good laugh and never afraid to make a wise crack. Your taste in music is largely tolerable and you're a football fan so it's easy to be around you. But on the other hand, your humour is not always to my tastes, most of the gigs you have been to would make me want to kill myself and our footballing philosophies differ wildly. We are at once so similar and so different and so we probably won't ever be best friends but you definitely have been a big part of my university experience.

In truth I still don't know what to make of you. I'm glad we're friends and I like you, but it seems there's a lot more to you than the man I know and I don't know how much of the unknown stuff about you I would want to find out. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, although I see how you could feel a little unsure about it. I guess the moral is be careful what you wish for. Many people waited a lifetime for the conclusion of the Star Wars franchise and they were left unsure as to whether it had been worth it, and I guess you might be feeling a little similarly about this.

If it makes you feel any better, you do get this blog entry to yourself.

Arrivederci.

Friends part 2: It's not that I like you less, just that you're less memorable.

First off, that was a joke, of course I like you less. Kidding.

Anyways, this was going to be something else but it got too much like a suicide note and all the random blog generator gave me was stuff that would have led me back to the friend post anyway, so here it is, Good Friends part II.

You Have No Name
Sorry about that but I'm 99% sure you don't read this anyway, so most of what I'm saying will be irrelevant to any reader and for that I don't have time to think of a suitable name. Plus, in the event that you do read it, I feel like only you should know it's about you.

We're friends under false pretences. I'm a lying bastard and you'd do better to forget about me. But no matter how shit a friend I am, you can't seem to give up on me. I thank you for your loyalty but I fear it is misplaced.

And I think I know why you won't let me go. No-one should be this loyal to a scumbag like me and so a small part of me thinks the rumours about us that circulated very quietly for a short while last year may be your secret desire. It feels like narcissism when I think that but at the same time I can't ignore the opinions of external observers who mostly seem to agree with me. I hope I'm wrong because although it will make me look a bit of a fool for writing all this, it would be better for everyone if you didn't love me.

On the other hand, if I'm correct in my assumptions, I know better than anyone the futility of telling you to forget about it. If I tell you to get over it, I'm the biggest hypocrite in the world because I have an immediate hatred of people who use those words to me.

I wish you'd just come out and say it. I know how hard that is, really I do, but you can count on me to handle it sensitively and I'd just like to know one way or another. If I'm right, maybe I can be a better friend in the future, if I'm wrong maybe I should seek help for my obvious narcissistic delusions. Either way, it could only have positive repercussions.

Behind Door #1

The third ex-housemate to get a mention. You've had a passing reference before but you've never read this blog, as far as I know. We were good friends before we moved in together but in all honesty you are the worst person to live with and I won't deny I hated you for a while. This vitriolic sentiment lasted long after we left the house but since Christmas time I've been reminded why we were friends in the first place and I'm willing to forget that you even lived in that house, thereby eradicating those bad feelings. You actually won me back at Grad Ball. Before you were drunk enough to marvel at my height, you showed a more compassionate side to yourself which I must admit I'd never witnessed, even before we lived together.

Still, I can't bring myself to show you as much respect as you might otherwise deserve. You told me about something you encountered on your travels and how you left it behind. Before I came to university I vowed that if necessary I'd travel even further than you did in pursuit of what you found. I was lucky, I didn't have to go to the other side of the world. But you gave your treasure up for no good reason, whereas the majority of my life in the last three years has been concentrated on preserving mine, even though I only know its location and not how to access it. Your lack of reverence for your own treasure and your reaction to me showing you my treasure map, leads me to pity you. You left your bounty for any passing pirate to plunder. At least I know mine is in safe hands, even if they're not my hands.
Behind Door #2

Well, we lived together for a year as well but I probably know you least well of all. It's a shame really, because we got on well but you disappeared when you got a girlfriend. Not that I blame you or her, I would have been exactly the same.

What is there to say really? I love you man, but I never see you these days. Mostly it's my own fault but I do miss your banter and general tekkers.

Oh and you look more like a bespectacled Tomasz Kuszczak than Russell Howard.

Well, that's all for this time. Back in a few days with part III.

Good Friends I Had, Good Friends I Lost.

That's a vague-ish and entirely unrelated to the point of this post Bob Marley reference, by the way. I haven't actually lost any friends. As I've said before I am paranoid about losing some but that's another matter.

Anyway, this is just about friends in general. I keep saying in this blog how much I love you all but I don't know if I say it enough. The specific people I'm thinking of have been in my life for two or three years now and I feel it's time I said a few things that needs to be said, albeit through a blog that only a few of you read. I'm sorry, I'm just not good at the whole face-to-face thing. As always, I'm keeping names out of it. I'm not sure why I do that, it just seems better that way, plus giving you all code-names appeals to my love of spy fiction. And nor will I be leaving any more clues as to who my mystery girl is, some of you know and some have guessed (rightly or wrongly) her identity but that is something that needs to be said face-to-face, or at least privately, and whether I get the brave up for that ultimate act of futility or not, this is not the place.

Only selected friends will be appearing this time around, but there will most certainly be a part II to this entry.

First up, Baby Bovine.

Dude, you were the first friend I made at uni. I still remember us stood a little awkwardly outside AS21 (I think), waiting for our first introduction to the course and we bonded over something that I can't quite remember, probably Star Wars knowing us. I promised you a nickname and that kind of died, but I guess if you are one of my few readers and you see this you can have Baby Bovine. It comes from something you say about your surname anyway, so it's kind of you that came up with it but to be honest, I drew a blank on the whole nickname thing.

Over the last three years we've lived together, laughed and cried together and loved and lost together. There's been times I've completely failed to understand you and times I felt you didn't quite get me, you've pissed me off at times more than anyone else and I'm sure I've done the same to you but in a way I wouldn't change it, it just works so well, you and me.

You were the first person I voluntarily told about my secret love and you read that shitty love-letter type thing that I wrote and in return I'd like to think I helped you in some way on your slightly rocky journey through the troubled land of amore. My advice hasn't always been the best but I'd like to think I never messed up too badly, except for the fact that I get well awkward around your lady friends (no idea why) and the weird coincidence that makes it seem that you can't hold on to a relationship when I go away.

I think I'll probably write the least about you because we know each other well enough that it doesn't need saying. To be fair I don't reckon you'll read it anyway so I guess it doesn't matter either way.

This last year it feels like we've seen less of each other than we should have considering we live in practically the same building but maybe that's because we actually lived together for a while. I'm leaving soon and though I hope to be back a lot, I'll still miss you.

My wish for you is that your current heartache goes away. I'm not telling you that you will or even that you should get over it, because that's the last thing one should wish on a friend, but I hope that there's some solace to be found somewhere or better yet, that the events of the last week can be reversed. I've thought about offering advice but I know how someone else's advice would be the last thing I'd want in your shoes and I'm assuming you feel the same.

And I hope you find everything else you ever go looking for.

Blogger Buddy

Another ex-housemate. We never knew each other too well even when we did live together, and that's my fault entirely. To be honest I met you like twice before I joined the house-sharing party and by then you were my friend's girlfriend - I should point out, I'm terrible with people's other halves: in fact I think I panic more about how my friends' girlfriends see me than how my own would and when I get nervous I clam up. Of course it doesn't help that you're a beautiful woman, and I generally do not cope well with beautiful women. I know you don't like to hear that but it's true. Maybe it's different coming from me, since we're just friends maybe I can say it. I hope so, I wouldn't want to think I'd made you uncomfortable in any way.

You know, of course, that you're not my secret lady. In fact you seem to be one of the few who knows who she is without being told. You're either a much shrewder guesser than everyone else or I've given away more in these blogs than I had intended or you're much better at being my friend than I am yours. Either way, your repeated offers of a chat truly are gratefully received. It's nice to know that you're there for me but for the reasons I've already stated I don't think I could take you up on those offers. It's not you, it's me. However, I hope we continue to blog and to read each others posts for a long time, to be honest you're one of about three or four people who I actually think about while I'm writing and one of only about two who I count as a reader.

If I could go back in time and start uni again, you'd be one person I'd make a lot more effort with because I really wish we had been better friends for the last three years. The little friendship we've built up over the last two years is one that I really treasure, for all that I've learnt more about you through your blog than I have through normal human interaction. I do count you as a good friend and I hope that the feeling is mutual.

Basically, this is me apologising for being one hell of a shit friend. I hope it doesn't hurt our friendship in the years to come that I can't seem to talk to you properly outside of the blogosphere/facebook - I'll try to sort that out if I can - and regardless of this, as someone who's watched your journey over the last two years with interest, I wish you every happiness in the future.

Hermione

The other person who I count as a reader, it's a good job I sent you that text the other night or I would have no idea what code name to give you that's cryptic enough to preserve the privacy you like to have. If you think I've over-stepped the privacy line, by the way, I'll be more than happy to rectify my mistake.

It's been an interesting couple of weeks since you became my new best friend. [Sorry if anyone else thought they had the crown of best friend. I don't usually have a "best" friend and prefer to love you all equally, but Hermione and me have shared some deep stuff recently. If it makes it any better, I'm not actually her best friend, she's just mine.] Anyway, it's like we are almost the mirror image of each other, on the surface the same kind of person with similar recent experiences, but then you look closer and we've taken very different things from those experiences. I'm not saying one of us is right and the other is wrong but how you see your version of our slightly similar stories is very strange to me and I can't deny that sometimes I don't understand it at all. Still, I do my best to sympathise and whilst I don't understand the way you deal with your situation, allow me to again offer my sincerest empathy for the situation you are in. It sucks. But Ron will come round, one day he'll realise Lavender's not the one he wants, needs or loves and he'll quit chasing her.

If it's any consolation, having someone to share this stuff with has made me realise once again just how much I love my Ginny, and even though Dean Thomas shows no signs of falling by the wayside you've given me the strength to carry on when times get tough.

One day, perhaps 19 years later (sorry, stuck in Harry Potter mode), we'll look back on this and laugh. Rose and Hugo will be gearing up for life at Hogwarts (you are so sending your kids to Trinity, if my extended analogy falls apart because you fail to make them love LTUC I will not be happy) and the two of you will not be able to believe how long it took Ron to work out what he wanted.

On an insignificant and possibly too cryptic side note, just because I want to show off my Harry Potter knowledge, when I said earlier that Romilda Vane had possibly misinterpreted the anonymous Valentines day singing dwarf I sent roughly in Ginny's direction, I told you the wrong song, it actually sang the intro to "If I Can't Have You" not "Did You Ever Love Somebody". It doesn't matter that much of course but I mention it because 1) I hate factual inaccuracy, 2) It gave me an excuse to link the latter song - it's one of my favourites - and 3) the song I linked kind of reminds me of you and Ron, although of course I like to think it's me and Ginny too. I'm sure you've got your own song that fits the bill, probably by the Weird Sisters (I clearly enjoy Harry Potter too much), but I just figured I'd point that out.

It's been a crazy two years since we first met and the last two weeks seem to have taken up most of what I've had to say here but I feel I should leave it here because you've gotten much more said about you than anyone else and I don't want to show too much favouritism.

PS. I hope Cormac McLaggen stops bothering you soon. OK, I'll stop now.

[A bazillion points to the house of anyone who spotted every Harry Potter reference. Minus a bazillion from anyone who got only the ones that would have appeared in the films.]

Well, I've written a shed load for just three people. I figure I better leave it there for this post but I'll be back with more. Given that I don't know exactly who reads this blog, I don't know if anyone's going to be feeling left out. In the unlikely event that you want to see my take on you, you know where I am.

Randomly Generated Topic #2: What Would I Do With A Million Quid?

This topic came up on the random topic generator and it seemed like some good old-fashioned escapism and lord knows I could use some of that right now. Most unfortunately I am confined to moving as little as possible by the horrendous pain of multiple sunburn. The one sunny afternoon I'll be experiencing this holiday and it cripples me for the remainder of my time in St. Ives. At least it gives you and I some more quality time, reader.

So, £1M; a million smackers; 1,000 G's; twenty million bob; one almost-not-worth-it hour with Chris Tarrant. In this society we have built for ourselves, where not only is money king but acquiring and spending money is the activity towards almost all efforts are directed, we must all at some time have fantasised about being rich and everyone's got their own ideas about what they'd do with their money. Perhaps the best use of a fantasy budget I've ever heard is this, from TV's Family Guy:

If that were a possibility, it would be right up there on my list and at $50,000, it's an absolute steal.

What you would do with a lot of hypothetical money (especially a lottery win) is almost modern life's standard psychological test. That's pretty terrible, if you think about it: I'll learn about your character by seeing how much respect and reverance you have for the almighty dollar.

Anyway, to "win" the test, one's automatic reaction is to say, "Well the first thing I'd do is I'd give some to charity," thus hoping to give everyone the impression that you are a kind hearted and generous person who can not be corrupted by money. Essentially, you are lying but everyone knows you are, so it's fine: the next thing on your list is what everyone listens to. In truth, giving to charity is probably on everyone's list, but you'd be hard-pressed to find someone for whom charity was really the first consideration or who would give most of their money away to a good cause.

Also, a million pounds sounds a lot but in today's society it isn't as spectacular as once it was. Someone said a few years ago that it now takes a fortune of at least £5M if you want to live the always desireable "millionaire lifestyle" and it's true. A nice house can set you back over a million, a few nice cars (because no millionaire ever just has one) can get rid of up to another million and sustaining just these two extravagances for merely a year could be very pricey. And then there's your kids to consider: you don't want to hand life to them on a silver platter but at the same time, being obscenely rich and not sharing it with your own kids is unthinkable. Assuming that this is money you've won or rapidly earned rather than inherited, you'd have to sort out the rest of your family too and suddenly most of the money's gone again.

Since the question is what would I do with a million pounds and I do not currently have a million pounds, we'll have to continue to assume that the hypothetical money is winnings.

Coming from a poor background, my first action would be to distribute the money around my family so they can pay off mortgages etc. I'm no financial genius but I'm going to assume that this would be extremely expensive and would leave me a couple of hundred grand down at least. After squirrelling another couple of hundred grand away for myself, extravagant gifts for friends and family would follow and the remainder would go to a poverty relief concern.

In the space of one paragraph I've just run through ONE MILLION POUNDS. How ridiculous does that sound? I've just casually tossed away more money than most of us will ever see in our lives. This comes from living in a society where the elite want us to do nothing more than work for their benefit. In return for this we are given a little bit of the powerful stuff that the elite control us with, money, and then they use their media outlets to mindfuck us into spending more money than they gave us on their products and their friends' products so they get it all back again with interest while we work for them, chasing after the dream of the millionaire lifestyle.

All this society teaches us to do is want stuff and then it jacks the price up and we want it even more because it has become a status symbol. The worst of this is that we can't escape. There is no alternative system, because we are all conditioned to unquestioningly believe that communism is evil and socialism is misguided. And above all, we have been made to no longer care for anyone but ourselves so a turn away from the capitalist dream of being the richest person in the world is unthinkable.

Rant Over. Sorry about that.

I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues: Random blog generator. Yes, I have sunk that low.

First of all, that's not a dig at anyone who does use a topic generator, either overtly or secretly, but I always assumed I'd have the ability to write about stuff from my own head/life without needing help. I feel I have failed you by needing to seek advice from the internet, but who knows, maybe it will be a triumph.

My random topic (after much re-clicking of the generate button to get past nuclear fusion and American history) was "keeping yourself happy". As we know this is something I struggle with. Not that I'm clinically depressed but without the veneer of happiness that I put on and present to the world beyond this blog I am an unhappy person.

That's not as dramatic as it sounds, really. A mate once said that contentment is far superior to happiness and I would tend to agree, even thought the point he was arguing when he said this was a little less agreeable (more on that another time maybe). Happiness is a short-term emotion, whereas contentment is a more long-term state of being. By the same token, unhappiness is a flash in the pan feeling, whose corresponding long-term state of mind is discontentment. The point is, although I'm frequently unhappy, it's not a constant state and I'm pretty content with life at the moment, so don't interpret this as a depressed cry for help.

Anyway, it's hard to force happiness on yourself, or fight off unhappiness. Friday taught me this very well as my mood swung from happiness at being with good friends and someone special, to sadness that this could be one of our last get-togethers and that I'm not a certain someone's someone special. Either emotion could and did overpower me at any moment throughout the evening without warning, hence the amount of time I spent going from chilling in the reception room to contemplation in the corridor outside.

The best thing you can do is just go with it, and not ignore the importance of being unhappy sometimes. Another mate said something along the lines of a life lived in happiness is a life not lived and I would agree with that too, if you've never done or seen or experienced anything that makes you sad then you've not felt a major part of what it is to be human. And, if you've seen, done or experienced something that should make you sad but you've ignored it so you can stay happy then you're a fool. Perhaps keeping yourself happy was not the best topic for me, in fairness, but it's done now.
Whether happy or sad, the emotion will pass soon and you should endeavour to make the most of both feelings. We learn more about ourselves in adversity than in good times so explore your unhappiness and take away any lesson it can teach you. And if you are lucky enough to find yourself in a happy place, enjoy it and take those memories forward to help you through tougher times.

Dead Sea Soup and Drop Dead Suit-Ups

So that was grad ball, eh? Well, in true Dan style I spent most of it depressed and hiding in a corner but I did sample enough of the event to know that under better circumstances it would have been a great night.

After a major shoe crisis (masculinity in doubt, permission to start calling me Danielle granted), the rest of the day went off without a hitch. A little pre-drink style get together provided the first alcohol of the evening, taking me to a grand total of four pints of lager and a glass of champagne over the course of a week and a half. For me, that is practically binge-drinking. And then, on to the ball in all our finery.

Two things I can recommend based on my evening: 1) Suiting up at every opportunity and 2) avoiding the Marriott hotel's food unless you want your GDA 6 grams of salt to be delivered in one spoonful of tomato soup. Nearly 9 hours and copious amounts of drink later and I can still taste salt! It was like the dead sea with garlicky croutons swimming in it.

An evening with your best friends in the world is impossible to beat, even if your venue manages to combine the worst elements of the school disco with what for the fussy eaters amongst us can only be described as gourmet Hell. Amongst the terrible music (with accompaniment by rowdy sing-along drunks) was the occasional good track though and the £32 one paid for the meal was more than vindicated by the delectable lemon tart dessert.

I'm not used to writing so enthusiastically. This feels way too upbeat to be one of my blog entries, but despite the gloom and despondency that I allowed myself to fall into due to circumstances beyond my control, I still can't help but come out of this with positive memories and feelings. The only downside that I can see (and I have to find a downside, just so I feel like me again) is that this is one more uni milestone gone and I'm fast running out of time before the most painful parting in history.

I depart for a holiday now, dear reader, and may not be back in the blogosphere for at least a week, although when I return I shall hopefully have many tales of sunnier climes with which to regale you. Adios amigos!

An Ode to Sorrow. A poem by D. Lovegrove.

Bear in mind that this was written at around half two in the morning and composed off the back of alcoholic depression, it was never going to be my best work. I apologise most heartily for the poor quality of the second and third stanzas but it's not complete without them.

All These Things

Sweet poisonous nectar of life,

Softly stabbing heart-bound knife,

Silent proclamation, invisible fire,

Frozen pain of unquenched heart's desire,

All these things love is, and more,

Lost in heady fantasy of what only could have been,

Found despairing, lamenting the intangibility of the dream,

Eyes fixed upon the stars, gazing for a sign from above,

And all the time rejoicing in the exquisite pain of love,

All these things the lover is, and more

Home, as safe as castles built on sand,

Disturbing territory, distant foreign land,

First thought of the day, last fretful dream at night,

Relief from life lived in darkness with terrible blinding light,

All these things the beloved is, and more.