BBC News Front Page

Possibly the most depressing first page I've glanced over in weeks. Personal state of mind is not accounted for in this analysis. Almost as much fun as the mythical 'England flag/shirt/nationality' ban.

Living within the boundaries of the National Park for London's Racists, I am ashamed to say I've found racism is contagious, but hopefully I have noticed the symptoms in time to eradicate them completely. It's an ugly feeling.
I have also found that presented with the option for conflict or resolution, where the argument isn't at all well founded and the solution is a potentially humiliating truth (humiliating in as much as people don't like to stand down from their misappropriation of opinion), the horse that never lived will be flogged into life in order to be grusomely (and misguidedly) slayed on the altar patriotism (in this instance anyway).

I don't like this place.

Groan Up

I have creaked slowly into my mid-twenties to discover the common title afforded to adulthood has been misspelt somewhere through the ages. To me, 'Grown Up' implies a sense of completion, fulfilment, the realisation of potential, but these are not things I have experienced. Then again, I could be misconstruing that to take responsibility for oneself, to varying degrees, is what being a 'Grown Up' is, which is probably wrong, but is the premise on which the rest of my ramble is based. 

This ramble will also include unnecessarily fancy words where simple ones would suffice and rubbish grammar; most notably, phrases of note highlighted 'as such', in the style of the MD of the company I work for who had us send out letters urging customers to call us on the 'usual' number if they were in any doubt as to any 'issues' which might beset their publication considering the 'issues' we have suffered the last few months.

Since I never 'Grew Up' in a physical sense; having my age questioned in Boots for scissors, being asked for ID in HMV and being directed to the junior section for swimsuits (in a sports shop, not HMV) are all indicators to me that I haven't achieved the adult 'look', I have realised that growing up is most likely the learning to whine and complain authoritatively.

(I just accidentally smudged a small flying insect on the screen, which was both unintentional and unfun)

There is now a cat reclining across my stomach pawing my arm with his claws out and his eyes shut. So I'm giving up. He also brought a rather distraught Blue Tit in this evening, which wasn't fun, since we managed to release it unharmed from his jaws, only for it to fly off into a wall in a panic, only to be caught by the other cat who was not so gentle with him.

Ridiculosity

That would be contemplating the imminence of passing the threshold of my mid-twenties... becoming over a quarter century old is rather daunting. And that the 'n' button on my keyboard is rather stubborn is rather irritating. Since I've brought this fact to light it has become more cooperative.

It would seem the embarrassing things come with age, e.g. random attraction to John Cusack, washing my trainers because they really are too grubby for casual Friday at work, other stuff that I'm not yet prepared to admit to.

Time passes quickly, mostly because it is largely occupied with work to earn money to support myself whilst trying to finish the training for an occupation that will earn more money and consume less time thus enabling me to possibly consider pursuing my real interests. Which I'll have likely forgotten about by the time I get there. Which I think I've forgotten already. But then interests tend to be distractions from the more pressing matters of life like bills and responsibilities, and are vocation and passion just acceptable terms for escapism. Escaping in plain sight with the excuse of personal fulfilment.

Really, what I'm worried about is that I've reached the year in which my driving licence is to be renewed, which means a new photograph, which means a lot of photo booth turmoil in the pursuit of a decent image that will ultimately be inexplicably distorted by the DVLA