Returning to the Big Smoke signals the final death knell of my summer break, potentially for ever. Which is a cripplingly foul thought, considering I have absolutely no idea of what I'm doing. At All. Not even a little bit - I can't even remember which feet my shoes are supposed to go on... When you think about it; school, university, parents, the government - they're basically all shite at preparing you for what seems to constitute reality these days. Either we're told we can do absolutely anything if we set our minds to it (meaning we can do absolutely nothing beyond going to the toilet and gibbering) or we succeed at everything and sail through life, which isn't really doing anything either. Riding high on the wings of ego and so-called intelligence seems painfully boring to me. I'd much rather fail and get up to fail again. Its much more eventful.
With the third year rapidly about to overtake me, panic begins to set it, creeping painfully up through my toes until it tickles my ribs. Dissertation woes aside, the fact that uni, such a huge and daunting undertaking before you embark upon it, is reaching its conclusion and that very soon I will be no longer be able to wake up at 10 and appreciate a good dose of Homes Under the Hammer with red-haired Tyneside-lass makes me very sad. No, all I have to look forward to is getting shafted again and again in the posterior by the employment sector... And then to have them refuse me any KY jelly for the next buggery. Oh cock.
On somewhat of a brighter note, I have managed to spruce up my life with a mobile telecommunications device. Its brilliant. Don't get me wrong, I've owned mobile carphones before, but not one with a KICK-ASS camera on it! Its great - not only can I talk to someone while I'm urinating, I can take a photo (or even a motherfluffing video) to PROVE I'm expelling a warm jet of happiness from my member. Its great! Next I'll be Twittering about my balls.
People who read this will inevitably at least have heard of the wonderful program called Spotify. And if you haven't, you're a flailing baboon. Anyway, a while back I stumbled across this great EP on it by a South African Band called BLK JKS. Clearly vowels are expensive in Joburg (you still pronounce it Black Jacks), but musical talent is in ple