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Happy New Year…erm…again.

8 Apr

“Epic Fail: A mistake of such monumental proportions that it requires its own term in order to successfully point out the unfathomable shortcomings of an individual or group”

I’ve committed one such ‘fail’. Well, I’d rather assume I’ve done this rather than Urban Dictionary’s other definition of an ‘epic fail’ which is thus:

‘The highest form of fail known to man. Reaching this level means only one thing- You must die, or the world will fail itself due to such an extreme level of failage.’

I don’t want to be associated to the latter. Firstly, if this were true around sixty percent of my Facebook contacts would have perished with all the apparent mundane disasters of varying magnitude that litter my news feed. I’d get a bit lonely. Secondly, the concoction of the word ‘failage’ is too much for me to bear. It makes me want to tear all my skin off in a fit of super-cringing and start again. Presumably by heading down to my local epidermis monger. Anyway, this hasn’t got anything to do with what I was going to say. No, my failing lies in my new-year-resolution-ing.

It’s terrifying to think that we’re into April already- feels like only yesterday that I was sat tutting as I watched all the major cities of the world send billions of pounds wooshing up and exploding into multicoloured glitterings in the sky to welcome the new year. On the first of January I got my little notebook out and set down eleven resolutions that I was, of course, ‘definitely going to stick to’. Eleven resolutions for 2011. Just as well I hadn’t bothered at all in 1999 or I’d really have a challenge on my hands . Well, these eleven things have been totally ignored. So by means of a quarter-year-resolution, I am going to redraft them right here so I can remember why I wrote them in the first place and you lot can tell me off should you see me continue to be rubbish. I’d probably pay no heed to your scoldings but I’m sure the guilt would eventually crumple me into submission.

For some reason this image instantly made me think of the aftermath of the last curry I had. I'm sorry.

    1) Blog at least twice out of Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday.

    Yeah, I don’t understand the choice of specific days either. Well, peculiar scheduling or no, I clearly aint been doing this have I? You know you’ve been mistreating your little blog when you need to create a new month folder with each post. This seems to be something that spills into real life too mind you- I seem to have about twenty of them A4 card wallet things to keep all my ‘paperwork’ in and I feel obliged to use them all. What paperwork will someone like me actually have? I’m not a real person! I have ‘the drawer’ that everyone has… you know… the one that you just shove any miscellaneous things into that don’t have an instantly obvious home. It then becomes like a Room 101 for trinkets, ‘important things’ and bank statements. Like an Aladdin’s cave of crap. For a mouse. (Scale-wise.) I will blog more.

2) Gym twice a week.

    September 2010. This was the date I discovered exercise, at the age of 23. Of course I had to dabble in it when I was at school… but this was mainly limited to goalkeeping at netball (because I was tall and could just flap above people’s heads) and rounders (because I could bat balls over the hills and far away. Be warned, gentlemen.) But I was never a fan of P.E. I’ve had a little think and I think I’ve pin-pointed the reason.

     

    In primary school, for some reason rather than being allowed to take shorts and t-shirt in to wear for gym classes, we were oft told to change into ‘vest and pants’. It’s not as creepy as it sounds, these underwear based frolics in the school hall. Spose it was practical and they thought kids wouldn’t care, but I was just a grown up trapped in a little person (a child, not midget) in my thought processes at times and I just always felt incredibly awkward and overwhelmed with indignation as we sat our arse cheeks down on the cold, dusty mustiness of the hall floor. Well, I’ve finally overcome this revulsion and taken up gym membership. Weirdest part? I actually thoroughly enjoy it when I get round to dragging myself there. My competitive streak makes me push myself to sweaty, gasping extremes while being able to laugh and/or enjoy the sight of masculinity at play in the free weights area. I then leave the place feeling like She-Ra.

    Dye her hair and she could almost be me the lucky cow. But by the power of Greyskull I'd have to sort He-Man's 'do out or it's never going to work out.

 

    3) Set time aside for book/other projects.

    Everyone knows that anyone who says they like to write ‘has a book’ that will get written. It’s as sure as eggs is eggs. It’s as sure as ‘socialising with friends’ appearing on the ‘Hobbies’ section of a CV. It’s as sure as it raining as soon as you leave the house without an umbrella, resulting in your looking like an accident victim on ‘Casualty’ when all the dye runs out of your hair and over your face and dress. The latter may only apply to me.

    Well, my book did actually get started. I’m far too lazy to even attempt a novel so it’s essentially a more structured use of my nonsense inspired by stuff and things that I like and know… and will probably never get to see the light of day. I’m reluctant to share my ‘other projects’ cos I still think they’re really good and you might go steal it. I’ve seen you in the dead of night in a little stripy jumper, black beret and eye mask going around filling your bag marked ‘SWAG’ with ideas. You little scamp. If anyone reading this has money to burn, please do pay for my rent, bills, sustenance and occasional trinkets so I don’t have to work and then I can really give this resolution a proper crack.

     

    4) Utilise notebook and write down memories.

    I envy people that can leave the house having checked their pockets for the three essentials of phone, wallet, keys. Being this aspiring writer of sorts, I can’t leave the house without the added extras of make-up bag, diary, pen, notebook, spare pen. The make-up bag has little to do with writing, ‘cept to make me look pretty while I do my scribbling face in public. I carry my notebook everywhere with the intention to jot down anything I see that inspires me, or if my brain does that thing where it fleetingly conjures up an idea then it’s gone again with the speed of a flasher in the park. I’ve got out of the habit of this and must get back into it. Writing, that is. No, I’ve never flashed. I would rock the mackintosh and trilby look though. The ‘writing down memories’ thing is something developed through fear, like all good things are.

    I’m sure iPhones and pizza and things were created in a similar fashion. Anyway, said memories are stuff like being at my grandparents’ houses and whatnot- they scooted off to meet St. Paul at the pearly gates some time ago, but I’m really scared to think that one day I might struggle to remember what they and their houses were like. So I’m going to be doing that more. Before I forget, Grandad Sanderson’s jumpers always smelt like ‘outside’ and pub. In a good way.

 

5) Cinema once a fortnight.

    I’m one of those pretentious twits that enjoys going to the cinema alone. I’m not sure why, I just do. Cornerhouse in Manchester makes me feel glad. From the squishy red velvet seats to the jazzy jingle that plays over the EuropaCinemas trailer, it’s a thorough treat of an experience.

     

     

    I’ve always been a bit of a film glutton. Despite doing English at University, I always found reading film as a text so much easier to get through. Again, this is quite possibly my heinous lazy streak kicking in, as my eyes got to sit down with their feet up rather than having to deal with the challenge of building the worlds manually with my ruddy imagination…gah. Oh, that takes me nicely on to number six…

 

6) Read more.

    Towards the end of last year one of those ‘pass it on’ type notes started floating around Facebook. It was a ‘How many of these 100 classic titles have you read?’ As I said, I did English at University and out of the list, I scored a paltry 12.5. Most of the 12 were made up of halves too. I’m awful. I’m sick of feeling flummoxed by anything mildly literature related when I’m shouting answers at quiz shows on telly. Unless it’s ‘Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?’ in which case I’ll probably take solace in the fact that I have at least 25% chance of getting the right answer. Sometimes my cracks at pot luck are so good I can convince myself that I actually know stuff and things.

    Anyway, I recently bought The Complete Collection of Shakespeare’s Sonnets on Amazon by accident so I’m going to start there. I’m hoping it’ll make me look simultaneously cool and intellectual on the bus and prove to be a tool for scoring me a well-read and romantic boyfriend. Although I’ve recently had problems regarding meeting men on public transport but that’s for another time…

I've read this classic title. It weren't on the list. Not sure how much I should even trust this list.

 

7) Allow myself at least one day off a week.

    Yeah, this is one that’s worth doing. Although my job isn’t exactly vexing or demanding, I am in quite a few days a week in a mixture of daytimes and evenings. Then quite often I will have plenty of my writing related stuff to be getting on with as soon as I get home to my laptop who greets me at the door, jumping up to say hello and give my hand an affectionate lick. (As I’m not allowed a pet I’ve had to make do with my imagination.)

    As a result, I quite often feel like I don’t actually have all that much time off. If I do something like…God forbid… go out or watch nonsense on telly, I often have this unwanted feeling of guilt coming up to taunt my poor little sense of relaxation. I feel like I need to be doing something productive constantly as is my ridiculous drill sergeant of ambition. So Relaxation might be stretched out in the recliner with a beer in one hand and the remote control in the other- then Guilt comes up and puts his fag out in the nice cool can and grabs the remote to put something rubbish like the Ocean Finance Channel on. Relaxation needs his time. This resolution is gona get this sorted.

 

    8 ) Leave full time hours at the Union by the time I’m 25.

    BOSH. Now this one I have done…sort of. I’ve been working in a Student’s Union for three and a half years. I aint a student and it’s making me feel old. Last year’s new intake of eighteen-year-olds were born in 1992. I remember 1992. I was having that Letterland Party that featured a couple of blogs ago. Thing is, it’s been somewhere which is so easy to get stuck working, mainly because I get to be surrounded by live music and lovely people all the time. However, after 6 years of living on minus pounds, I need to get me a worthwhile metier somewhere that allows me to stop being the crusty old cynic that a life surrounded by students is forcing me to become. Well, I’ve jacked in my contract and I’m off to London for three months for an internship. Who knows what might happen after that- but it’s half resolved? At the age of 24 and a half too… that was clever of me.

 

    9) Get at least one new hobby.

    Hobby? What was I thinking? Nobody has hobbies anymore. It’s a word that sounds like he belongs in the 1940s, dressed all in brown with uncomfortably smart shoes and a bag of marbles in hand. Maybe I should take up marbles? Well, I don’t even know how to start resolving this one. Any suggestions? It might be good for that CV section.

This is the last legitimate need to think of hobbies. Ich sehe fern. I suppose I do that already. I still remember my GCSE Oral Exam ('lol') in which I told Frau Dexel about a boy called Pedro I met on holiday. He took me for ice cream and for a swim on the beach. I made him quite a dish in my mind. Sigh.

 

    10 ) Learn one new thing a week.

    I went through a phase of recording so many documentaries from the History and Discovery channels. I love them. There is nothing more exciting than that feeling of when you learn something new…well, apart from lots of things. The sound of the ice cream van. Seeing horses wander past your house and down the road. Porn. But apart from these things, learning new things is most exciting. I’m a bit of a geek really and keeping my brain updated with new facts keeps me happy. I was too socially deranged to really embrace the opportunities university offered me while I was there and now I live an existence of intellectual malnourishment and regret. Resolution ten will sort me out.

 

    11) STOP CHASING BOYS!!!

    It’s the big one and it’s written down in exactly the same capitals-and-exclamation-mark style as you see above. I keep threatening to write up my internet dating experiences so I won’t go into too much detail over the motivation of this one, but the long and the short of it is I’ve had atrocious innings when it’s come to gentlemen. They’re either rubbish from the off or they’re what I thought was really lovely only to find that they were in fact massive twerps in disguise. Either way, I’m giving up. I will hopefully trick the powers of the universe to just push the right person in my direction and I can stop stamping my feet in my tantrums of stress and heartache. That’s why there’s capitals. Wish me luck.

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