Stop that - you'll brake it.

This evening I did something that I have wanted to do for as long as I can remember.  Ever since I saw someone on TV letting a little bird go, I have wanted to do the same thing.  Swinging my arms up and opening my hands as, in a flurry of feathers, the little creature flies off to freedom.  It's a thing of beauty.  Tonight, a little collared dove got into the chicken's little fenced off area and couldn't get out.  I went in to catch it - and catch it I did.  I was surprised - I thought it would just find a way out and be done with it.  But I caught it and went into the open and gracefully chucked it skywards.  I have only had one opportunity to do such a thing before.  I caught a little bird in Pizza Hut when I worked there.  I put it in a little wings box (insert joke or amusing observation here), and went home.  Upon entering the house, I proceeded to look around for our cat.  Unless the reason for this is not too clear, most cats like to eat - if not, kill - birds.  I did not want this bird to be eaten or killed.  Long story short, I bury a dead bird at the end of this anecdote.

I bought another Moleskine book the other day.  It was £10 and it's a little smaller than A6, but it's worth it.  I got it because I have found myself coming up with things to write about (which I have found is good for a blog), but not having anything to record them in.  I thought about getting a dictaphone, but then I'd have to grow a moustache, wear big glasses, and look at people as I smugly talk into my hand.  Since I don't like looking at people, I bought a book.  I'm getting the hang of it, this writing thing.  It's always hard to start a new sketchbook - slightly more so when you're writing in it.  But I have found a small passion - a smassion, if you will - for writing things that I (and hopefully a few others) find slightly amusing.  I'll let you know how it goes.

It was my little brother's 18th birthday the other week.  It was my other little brother's 21st a couple of weeks before that.  Good planning on the parent's part.  For my brother's 18th, we all went go-karting.  It was very nice.  My little brother is as much of a racing chav in a kart as he is in a car.  Hunched forward, one hand on the top of the wheel, one on the 'gear stick', looking round through rolled up eyes.  Oh dear.  The track itself was very good - it was quite big and it had a couple of bridges.  The karts were fantastic - nice and low, very tight steering, good grip (for the most part.  I swear my kart in the final race had less grip than my kart in the qualifiers.  And the seat was uncomfortable).  It was a pretty sweet way to spend a good few hours.  We had a BBQ in the afternoon and then we went out in the evening/night/early morning.  That's a whole new post.

One thing that I did notice when we were karting, was the fact that in a few 'man-sports' the people involved are, more often than not, inspired to recall the events of the day with much vigour and relish.  And usually a deeper voice and a different argot.  Well - not so much a different idiom, more of a change of emphases on certain words.  Words that would normally seem geeky or are previously untouched by the lips of the speaker become commonplace.  Go-karting and Paintballing seem to be the biggest culprits.  People are transformed into petrol heads and commandos.  They suck you in and give you a different life for a few hours; a 'life' after which, you are more than qualified to talk about what you have no idea about.  Even the shyest, most preserved folk turn into men who know what they're talking about - and talk about it with an almost unwavering certainty.

That said, you should have seen the way I entered the eleventh corner.  Nice and tight to the tyres, keeping it in until the last minute.  The steering was trying to get away, but I kept it under control.  I had to tap the brakes a bit towards the end to keep it from spinning out, but I think I dealt with it pretty well.  And so forth.

Solar flair.

Well, here's another after work, pre-shower post.  It's early in the morning and I need to go to bed.  As I pointed out in my last post, my inspirations seem to strike in the early hours when I'm in need of sleep.  Although this post is not particularly inspired, I wanted to post something either today or tomorrow, and I don't think I'll remember any of it tomorrow.  Well I probably will, but even if I save this today and post it tomorrow, it will still show today as the date I posted it.  Man, I'm just talking nonsense now.

Arguably, the chances of anything entering the Earth's atmosphere and burning up, creating a Shooting Star, is one in a googol.  Miniscule.  Pretty much too small to be bothered about.  But I am always filled with a childlike sense of optimism whenever I look up into the night's sky.  Hoping beyond hope that such a chance will occur.  (I think there might be a bigger chance than one in a googol - what with the asteroid belt floating round between Mars and Jupiter.  And the asteroid sphere that encompasses our Solar System.  Still - space is pretty big.  We've got a bigger chance of being missed by things flying towards us).  Tonight, my anticipation of this event was quenched.  I saw a Shooting Star.  It lasted long enough to not only catch my eye, but to allow me to look in its direction and watch it for the few seconds it lasted.  Bear in mind that a few seconds is ages for a Shooting Star.  It was enough time for me to see that it was, in fact, several pieces falling together after breaking up a bit - it was long enough for me to at least guess where it was heading - it was long enough for me to appreciate the orange colour it burnt with.  I can think of few things that are as awesome as a Shooting Star.

I learnt something new about the fourth state of matter the other day.  I have known what it is for a long time, but I've never thought of anything that is made from it, if that makes sense.  There is solid, liquid and gas.  And plasma.  The fourth, and most badass, state of matter.  It is ionised gas that is neither gas nor solid.  "Where can we find this?" I hear you ask.  "Fire," says I.  "And lightning," I further add.  I love that fact that it is something so simple.  Two everyday things.  Made of PLASMA.  That is all.

I am going to bed now.  It's got to the stage where I'm barely able to keep my eyes open and I've started to nod embarrassingly.  As well as this, I can hear noises that I shouldn't be hearing at this time of night; playing in my head like some sort of built-in speaker system.  My mind is telling me that I can hear the cars on my way home from work and that I'm on the 'Airfield' level of Call Of Duty 5.  At the same time.  And I know I'm not doing either.

I'm also reading my sentences over a good few times each before finally posting this, lest I make some hideous typo or grammatical error.

Wish me luck.

Early mourning.

I find that I get my best ideas and inspirations when I need to go to sleep.  More to the point - when I need to go to sleep because I have to be up early the next day.  Sometimes I want to take a picture that I know will not be possible to take again for a long time.  Other times, I just want to draw until I have no more ink.

I have just come back from work after closing up and finishing later than I thought possible.  It's 04:20 (as you can probably see form the 'time posted' bit at the bottom).

I was offered a lift home, which I declined (in the end).  The allure of the early morning birdsong was too much.  I just wanted to walk home and listen to Ms Nature.  I was trying very hard to think of when I would have another possibility to experience such an opportunity to find myself, by chance, in this situation again.  I thought I could easily set my alarm and go out for a dawn-break walk, but that would defeat the spontaneity somewhat.  Besides; I'd just go back to sleep anyway - annoyed at myself that I thought it was a good idea to wake me up at 03:00.

This walk home was pretty amazing, though.  As it was dawn, it was possible to see things, which gave me more confidence to walk home through a stretch of Southport that rivals the notoriety of piss bridge/rape bridge/nazi bridge/junkie bridge/death bridge.  You know where I mean.  If you don't, don't worry.  It is pretty much exactly how I have described it.  You're not missing out.

The birdsong was intense.  Calls from everywhere - the trees on the outskirts of my view, the tops of the lamp-posts, the tops of the buildings in the distance.  Geese honking across the other side of the Marine Lake.  A single gull drifted above me, highlighted pink by the rising sun.  Another gull a bit further on changed the status of the first gull to one of a pair.  It didn't seem to care, though.  I did.  It spoiled this part of the blog.  The bridge was silhouetted against the pink sky; the Lake mirroring the colours above it as its edges lapped against the banks.

Some more walking brought me to the edge of the calmer area, where the giggly shrieks of a girl and the slow silencing of the birds could be heard.  Getting further away, the gulls started to squawk.  I always imagine them as the English equivalent of the Hyena.  As the hyena chuckles, it conjures up images of blokes in their mid 20s, snickering like ne'er-do-wells at something inexplicably funny.  As the gull squawks, it brings images of a fat lady cackling to mind, with an association to Bingo, for reasons that escape me.

As I crossed the road, the giggling girl and her friends passed me in a car.  A bloke gestured a thumbs up to a cab that was parked in the middle of the road, asking for a lift.  No such luck.  The man and his lady friend crossed the road and started walking behind me, where she let out a big, classy belch.

Moving towards the outskirts of the town, the birds got louder once again.  The kebab shops had long since closed and the pubs were shut.  The beautiful sound of nature had only really been interrupted thrice by cars, but for a much longer time as I walked through the desolate streets.  It's a shame they have been driven out somewhat by the want of a cushy life.

Even so, I sit here now in bed, typing away to the sound of several birds behind me in the garden and the ever-funny Danny Wallace on iplayer.  I love our garden.  I love this part of town.  Junkies next door aside, it's a very nice place to live.  But I shall talk about that another time.  (Turns out that the time in the second paragraph is now wrong.  Huzzah).

As for now, I must rest my weary legs and close my tired eyes, 

for in three hours hence, I must once again arise

to work a ten-hour shift, finishing early in the night,

I'll hopefully sort my hours out, so that they might not be so rubbish.

That synching feeling.

I don't think I will ever stop loving the irony of a fat man in a sports shirt.  Obviously, the fact that XL(+) tops are available and selling is reason enough for companies to continue making them, but I really do hope that this has not blinded them to their own fantastic derision of the more portly gentleman.  I do suppose it is nice to wear one's team's colours, but arguably more so when one is playing the sport one follows.  I'm not saying it doesn't annoy me.  To an extent, it does.  I just find it more hilarious than bothersome.

Now.  I am going to be a bit controversial.  I'm going to say straight that I think the case involving Baby P was blown out of proportion.  It seems as though I'm going a bit conspiracy theory crazy, as I'm starting to think that it was a distraction from the whole 'MPs claiming ridiculous expenses'.  See, the first inkling of something being awry re: MPs was noticed on the 9th of June last year (2008).  It was to do with the Torys and what they'd been claiming back under 'expenses'.  Now, Baby P was found dead in his cot on the 3rd of August, 2008 - just 24 days after.  I am part of a family that has fostered lots of children.  Lots.  I can safely say that the Social Services here are, at best, average.  Many, many children get a new life from the foster system and the adoption system, but many more get screwed over in equal measure.

  We looked after some kids who were not to be living with their mum ever again - by order of a judge.  Two weeks before Christmas, they are taken off us and given to their Nan to live in her care.  Their Nan lived with their mother.  Way to go, Social Services.  They were so close to escaping a crappy life and starting fresh when they were readily sent back there and now, several years on, they are on the adoption list, having had to live through another stretch of needless anguish.

Was this talked about in the news?  Nope.

Every day, so many children are abused.  Every day, children across the country are killed as a result of abuse.

Is this normally in the news?  No.

Maybe the time our Social Services gave our ex-directory phone number to the parent of one of the kids we were looking after.  Buh.  Good idea, guys.

Hardly national news-worthy, but maybe locally?  Nah.

But Baby P?

I'm not saying that we should overlook this sort of thing - quite the contrary.  I think that every case should be made known, but I know that if that were to happen, a separate paper would have to be created for it.  And no-one likes weekend supplements at the best of times.

I am just aware that when one case is scrutinised, like this one was, there must be something else going on.  Otherwise it will be looked over.  In this case, the something else seems to have been the expenses claims.  Over the course of two weeks, a multitude of claim cases came to light, from houses that have been fully paid for, to a floating duck island.  Once it seemed that this was no longer covered up, the people responsible for the death of Baby P were sentenced.  Once they were sentenced, the government suggested ways to fight the claims, hoping that it had all blown over.

I'm not a conspiracy theory nut, something just doesn't sit right about this.

Well.  This and Madeline McMurdered-by-her-parents.

I'm heading to America in a couple of months.  I'm going there to study for a year and I'm looking forward to it enormously.  Granted, money is an issue - as it always is - and I've never traveled ..  well..  anywhere on my own before, but I'm still pretty excited.  I have made it my (not-so-secret-anymore) mission to correct the Americans in their speech, spelling and grammar (but seeing as though my Mac is already against me, I'm not holding out much hope).  I doubt they'll take too kindly to it, but it's worth a try.  I'm just going to try and distract them from the fact that I'm going to be using more 'u's and less 'z's then they are.  And that I'm going to be calling them 'zed's and not 'zee's.

Well, this wasn't the lightest of posts.

I tried to make it a bit shorter, as I have noticed that they have been a bit lengthy as of late.

I'll be back with one when I can think of something witty to say.

Swine flew.

Well shut my mouth.  Although I ranted about the new X-men Origins film the last time I posted  (in case you missed it.  If you did it's just below this one), it turns out that a spin off of the spin off is planned.  With Mr Reynolds playing the loudmouthed merc, again.  So hey, yea they ruined the character in Origins, but then again, they have a big chance to redeem themselves.  X-men Origins: Wolverine is out and good.  X-men Origins: Magneto is said to be on the way.  There is another Origins film planned and it's going to be looking at the first few years of Xavier's Institute, which should be good to see even more powers being put on the screen.  This second trilogy is a spin off, then there looks to be the fore-mentioned Deadpool spin off.  I am very happy now.

I very rarely buy clothes.  Clothes is clothes, in my eyes.  I'm not really into brands, it's just that when I do find things that I like, they just happen to have logos and graphics on that represent certain companies.  The upside of not really being bothered about what I wear has become an advantage in recent years.  Because I'm not pouring money into it week after week, when I do find something that I like, I find that I can put more money towards it.  Like the other day - I got a complete outfit (sans shoes) for £30.  It's so uncommon that I buy clothes that it did feel weird spending that much in one go, but at the same time I know that some people buy clothes weekly.  Fair enough, but I urge you to give this a go.  Just don't buy clothes for a few months.  Wear what you have.  It's not that hard and it'll save you a bit of money.

I don't know whether or not I like or dislike the times when a sound interferes with a dream.  Sometimes it's amazing.  There was one time in the Lake District that I remember this happening.  I was in a tent with my brother (tent sharing is customary and necessary in a large family) and it was the early morning.  I was having a weird dream in which several people were laughing hysterically.  The laugh wasn't the best laugh.  In fact it was a bit creepy.  As I awoke, I realised that a badelynge of ducks (That's right.  Badelynge) was waddling past the tent, quacking ridiculously.  A fond memory.  More recently, however, I have been listening to Chris Moyles in the mornings (radio alarm.  Get me with the technology).  As I drift in and out of consciousness, the talking - more often than not the news - incorporates itself in my dreams or rather, the dreams shape themselves round the narration.  Once I'm fully awake and the news is back on again, I get the sense of Deja vu.

So the latest biggest-thing-to-hit-the-planet-this-month is Swine Influenza, it would seem.  A near 40 people have had/got it.  I'm not sure whether or not that's a number big enough to warrant a pandemic preparation, but hey, I could be wrong.  I find it amusing that this particular illness is said to affect the healthy, middle aged populace.  Finally, the old folks and babies get a break.  I don't know how different it is to either Influenza or Man Influenza, but something tells me that it's not much.  People don't know about it so it's scaring them.  The one thing that I find most amusing about it all is that washing your hands is now the in-thing.  Are you kidding me?  I don't need to papers, TV and radio to tell me to wash my hands or to cover my mouth when I cough or sneeze and then not touch people if I sneeze on my hands.  Come off it.  I'm not paying taxes.  If I was I wouldn't be paying taxes for people to remind me that basic hygiene is a good thing.

I went to the Lakes today for a walk.  It is one of the best places I can think of being.  Idyllic is the only thing I can think of saying to describe it.  Nothing more, really.  It's absolutely beautiful.  I got a fair few photos, too.  It was a fairly clear day.  A bit windy, but the sun was out every now and again to keep us thinking that it would turn out nice in the end.  It did once we were back in the car, but that's not where or when we wanted it.  We went on a walk in Ambleside.  I don't know where the walk went or how long it was.  I know it was a good few miles and that's more than I need to know.  I just like walking.  There's something about nature that is comforting.  Something soothing about being in the open, with the fresh air surging through your lungs* and the surrounding sounds encompassing you - the birds' constant chirping; the trees swaying and howling as the wind pours through the branches; the trickles and splashes of the streams and brooks.  The smells should be savoured, too.  Yea, there's a lot of poo, but have you ever smelled fresh water?  Rain on the floor and the trees?  Man, you need to go.

I have no more to say at the moment.

*I know it's more of an in-and-out than it is a through, but you know what I mean.

Nothing to sea here.

WARNING.  I AM GOING TO BE TALKING ABOUT THE FILM 'X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE'.  IF YOU'VE NOT SEEN IT YET AND DON'T WANT IT SPOILING (sort of); THEN DON'T READ IT.

So.  I am going to attempt to review the film.  I'll give it a go, anyway.

I went to see X-men Origins the other day.  Now I am a bit of a geek when it comes to comics and the films based on them.  I am from the crowd that thinks the Marvel films only really became..  well... good.. when Marvel studios stepped on board and gave Iron Man a hand.  Iron Man was a great film.  One that I'd watch right now - and I'm tired.  The X-men Origins (Origins from hereon in) film was a mix of comfortable, reliable, exciting, intriguing and downright disappointing.  And here's why.

It was comforting to go to the cinema and know that I was going to be watching a good film.  The Trilogy of yore was excellent at first, then it got a little bit better, then it got a bit too big for itself and went a bit rubbish.  There's only so much a film can do in terms of visual effects and, indeed story length.  Especially when they are based on graphic novels.  Comics leave at least a bit up to the imagination and a series has the time to spin things out.  A feature film does not have much of either.  The effects - dazzling as they may be - do a lot to try and fulfill the imagination, leaving very, very little for the viewer to put in themselves.  It is also restricted to a couple of hours to tell a story that has had years to develop - and that has also had years to gather a massive fan base.  Even so, I was fairly secure in the knowledge that enough Marvel-based films have been made and that a lot has been learnt from them.  Comforting.

Hugh Jackman put his name on the line again as the ever-excitable wolverine.  Having become the face of Logan in the previous-but-future-films, he had really bought the character to life on-screen.  It was good to see that he hadn't given up the role to someone else in order that they could play the younger him - as a few have done in the past.  It gave me the feeling of reliability - that if he were to play the character again, he wouldn't tarnish the role with some second-rate acting and a bad script.  The on-screen character is - arguably - his creation, and it is something that he would not want to diminish.  His presence in the film made for a reliable story line and this is another reason I was excited to watch it.

It is always exciting to see a film with so many minor supporting roles.  Especially X-men.  Whatever I feel about the Trilogy, I enjoyed seeing the mutants' powers come to life.  Comics do make you use your imagination, but sometimes it is nice to just chill out and let it happen itself.  I was eager to see which mutants would be in Origins - the ones that are named and the ones that would appear as more of a surprise.  Gambit, the Blob and Sabretooth were all in the trailers in some way or another.  There was also John Wraith, who teleported in a similar way to Nightcrawler, but without the BAMF; Agent Zero, who was a pretty sharp shot with the old pistols; and Dominic Monaghan's character Bolt.  I think he could telepathically control electrical things.  His slowly-closing-eyes-whilst-raising-his-fingers-to-his-head gesture got tiring the first time he did it.  A very nice surprise was the katana-wielding smartmouth, Wade.  That's right.  Wade Wilson.  Deadpool.  More about him later.

  It's always nice to see how producers/directors interpret the different powers the characters have and the way they realise them on-screen.  From the first time Wolverine 'Snikked' his claws out to the way Gambit's kinetic energy manipulation shows itself along the details of the cards he wields.  The little things that are thrown in are a joy to look out for.

Now.  Let's bring it back to Deadpool.

  I can appreciate the fact that Wolverine's claws always come out from between his knuckles, regardless of how his hands are positioned.  If his hands were angled as if he were doing press ups, the claws would come out through his palms.  But they don't.  I can let it slide.

  I can understand that to get the effects of Wolverine's healing factor, the camera stays close up on him for a while, so the effects guys can do their thing and show us his flesh sewing up.  I can overlook the fact that this has happened in EVERY FILM HE'S BEEN IN but it's just because people want to see it happen up close.  I can get over that.

  Deadpool.  Now, Deadpool is one my favourite characters that Marvel has thrown up.  I've read more Deadpool than I have anything else.  It's because he is a good character.  A great character.  I urge you to read some Deadpool.  The basic story regarding him is that he got skin cancer and from the Weapon X project, he was given a modified healing factor taken from Wolverine.  Not, as this film would have you believe, EVERY POWER FROM ALL THE MUTANTS THAT STRYKER CAME ACROSS AND LOOKED GOOD.  They completely ruined the character by giving him every power shown to us throughout the film and then killing him off at the end.  Deadpool is a witty mercenary.  The fact that he has the healing factor means that he is more cocky, less tactful and less stealthy than your average merc.  WHICH IS WHY HE IS GOOD.  They really missed a trick by not having a Deadpool film.  Or at least more involvement on his part in this film.  Ryan Reynolds was playing him, too.  Could they be more stupid to turn down a chance like this?

Oh and the pictures?  The first one is Deadpool fighting off a crowd of clowns.  The second one is Deadpool punching Wolverine's girlfriend in the face so that Wolverine will fight him.  I rest my case.

It's got me so Nerdraged that it's made me want to speak in ALL CAPITALS.  MAYBE ITALICS AS WELL.

Well, that went well.

I don't think it was the best review ever, but I had to vent my inner Nerd's rage.

I'll be back with a more calm and undoubtedly better post sometime in the future.

As for now, I am going to bed.

Goodnight.

Why am I knot surprised?

I was tempted - and gave in - to walking home from work the other night with a cocktail stick in my mouth.  I thought it would be cool.  It was not cool.  It was, in fact, so not cool that once I had walked in to the more populated area of town, I proceeded to started to use it in the way that it should actually be used and started scraping at the gaps in my teeth.  I was so uncomfortable to swagger home with a little piece of wood in my mouth that to cover it up, I started to pick at my teeth.  I don't want to do either in future.  So I won't.  Lesson learnt.

I watched Aladdin the other day - just because the DVD player didn't work.  Otherwise I would have had to have watched diamond-boy, spade-in-the-face drivel; Twilight.  I'm so happy the DVD player wasn't working.  Even though I haven't seen Aladdin for well over 12 years now, it turns out that I saw the film so much as a kid that I was still able to quote the film (to myself so as not to annoy the other film watchers) and have the inexplicably warm feeling of knowing what was going to be said next, who was going to say it and what intonations and emphases they were going to put on the words.  It gave me a sense of smug, self-satisfaction that I am now eager to find again by watching every other film from my childhood.  Or The Princess Bride.  Me and my dad just quote that all the way through when it's on.  We're not geeks.

Yesterday, I was given the chance to go to Alton Towers.  It was going to cost quite a bit, but the offer was there nonetheless.  Because of the cost, I declined.  This was a mistake.  Although it meant that I was able to sleep in until 11:50 this morning, I was woken up at this point by my little brother.  It turns out that he is there, too.  That would have been enough to sway my decision to go, but to add insult to absence from Alton Towers, Derren Brown is there today as well.  Great.  Oh well, I guess.  At least I slept through the gym time I'd set aside for myself today and got up with aching shoulders and a headache.  I think I could be the winner of this situation.

I listened to the Stephen Merchant show yesterday on listen again.  I'm quite a fan of his laid-back-but-quick-talking manner.  It was not so long into the show when he read out a text saying (paraphrasing) "I love the show and want to thank you.  I moved to Norway from England a few years ago and, listening to your show is one of the things that I look forward to every week.  I get up at 7:30 in the morning every sunday to hear the show because it reminds me of how funny people are back home.  Thank you."

  This was followed by the announcement that the show was finishing next week.

This isn't the best week for me at the moment, it would seem.

So there it is, friends.  Another installment of vaguely filtered piffle.  It would appear that my filter is set to arbitrary.  I'm going to go and do some work, now.  I needed to do lots of work over the Easter holidays, but I thought that I wolud have a break.  (Because obviously spending two and a half weeks in America and coming back two days before the term ended wasn't enough).  I'll probably only end up drawing something completely unrelated but hey, at least I can post it here.

I'll talk again soon, no doubt.