Existential Crisis Averted

The past couple of weeks have been odd. Well, I've been odd these past couple of weeks, and by proxy the weeks have been odd.

I wrote, earlier this week, about chores and moaning a lot about having to do them, and - really - I understand that chores have to be done. I just didn't like the idea that all my spare time was being filled up with the never-ending list of things that parents seem to have for their children to do when they're not attending some form of educational institution and/or working, and looking ahead into the future I saw three and half months of that same never-ending list and I thought, "Is this really what my life is going to be like? Am I really going to be cleaning up dirty dishes for the rest of my life? I didn't even touch half the food that was made on these." That last one's true - lots of different dinners get made in my house, and from time to time you end up having to clean up someone else's mess, and everyone in the house moans about it.

But I get it - chores have to be done. The whole background to the moaning that most people failed to see (because they read the post, not my response to a comment left on it) was that I was having a sort of existential crisis these past couple of weeks. Some friends of mine can attest to me freaking out over some stuff that happened, and one alone can tell you - but he won't - about one of the biggest problems I was having in my life. Basically, I didn't feel I could write for the rest of my life. I was feeling miserable (and not because of the chores - this was to the do with the case in my post "Let it Slide") and things turned out getting worse and worse in my head. I lost the will to create anything.

That's over now. Long conversations in the middle of the morning have that effect on me, when it was a sort of lack of them in a pretty boring and often horrible week that drained me of everything positive. But I feel like I'm back to what I would commonly refer to as "normal", though the word itself is just a concept of humanity that works along the lines of conformity. I attest against conformity for conformity's sake; I understand that people can be similar, but if they try to be similar, then that's just wrong. That's changing for the sake of changing someone's opinion of you, not changing for the sake of improving yourself in your own eyes (the often groaned-upon phrase "Be the best you you can be" comes to mind).

I digress. I'm back to planning writing stuff. I have ideas whizzing about in my head and I've set myself a deadline for getting some stuff done. A lot of the work will be done in the summer months, when I have a lot of time off from studies and I'll most likely not get extra hours in work (books sell better in the airport alone during the summer months - high-street stores don't see huge boosts in sales except around Christmas). I'll be working on other things aside from a number of book-ideas I have in mind, but mainly I'll be writing fiction (to the max!) I'm determined to not let this summer be either (a) a repeat of last summer (boring and somewhat miserable) or (b) a repeat of this week (boring and somewhat miserable and filled with endless tasks from my parents!).

I won't be disclosing the full nature of what I'm writing about throughout the summer, of course, unless something comes out of it. However, I can tell you that I'll be having lots of fun finishing some books that I've told some friends about (if you are a friend reading this and don't know what I'm talking about and are wondering why I never told you, it's because you did not ask or were not there when the idea for the book came to mind - it's nothing personal!). By the end of the summer, I want to have done some work on quite a few books (which includes editing some stuff I wrote last summer to remove some obvious connections to this thing we call "real life", because I see some potential in the stories, but I don't want to have to deal with people who think that references made to things they did are going to be so obvious to every single person living on this planet - there's this thing called fiction, I write it, and sometimes it's how I interpret facets of stories told to me so that you also get this thing called coincidence! Oh look, I made an obviously snide remark at one particular person on my blog, I wonder who that could be!)

On a side note, I'm noticing a lot of brackets popping up in this post. I don't blame the middle of the night call for this. No, I blame the fact that I was awake for some time before the call, and for a significantly shorter but increasingly more irate time after the call! My mind isn't working the way it should. It's in a strange place where brackets make sense, because there's too much to say coherently. Little points are just getting thrown into the middle of everything!

Back on track, then... yesterday was awesome. Okay, work wasn't. That was boring. We get those days, sometimes (and quite a lot lately). But I got my nerd stuff in the post (t-shirts and CDs and an Esther bracelet from DFTBA Records) and a couple of books which will be reviewed some Wednesday in the future after I've read them. And I went to see Paul in the cinema with some friends - still waiting to get my chance to pick my "birthday movie", since that was how I planned to "celebrate" my birthday with them - and it was awesome! It took me a while to get into it, but that was mainly from being in a mad mood beforehand. Laughed a lot though, as I got into it. And then there was the phone call, several hours later. Yes, there were periods throughout that day when I wanted to punch people and things (specific people, I might add), and when I got frustrated and/or upset, but I got through it all and now I'm hyperactive but tired!

Tomorrow will be a TV day, I think. Unless I decide to go on a writing spree. I would very much like that. I'll see where the day takes me. I may end up just reading a lot. I've been reading Everyman by Philip Roth (because I got a hardback copy of it second hand for relatively cheap and there's basically nothing wrong with it, and I'm sure one of my lecturers recommended him as a good author) and I'm enjoying it too much to want to wait until I'm too busy to read it.

Come Monday, I'll be kidnapping Miley Cyrus. We've had these plans for a while now, so it'll be fun to see what happens. If we end up in the city centre, I may be on the lookout for a new bag. There's nothing wrong with the one I have except I may need something a little bit bigger to bring in the A4 binder that contains Meet Sam. I want to continue my edits of it, and I don't think I want to risk my hands and/or arms carrying it in in my laptop bag (which I also use to carry my bible to God College as it is, so it gets a little heavy... especially when the library books start getting packed in there, too!). So, I may have a new bag. Or not. I don't yet know. It may be that I'll just get a handy folder with a handle to carry it in.

Things are looking up, anyway, after the boring misery that has been my "Reading Week". I suspect I would have wasted the week anyway, even if I hadn't been upset and aggravated on and by Saturday, but I wouldn't have been miserable doing nothing. And who knows, I may have actually be productive, which was what I planned before the World Suck that was my Saturday last week got to me.

I'm moaning again. This time I have a justifiable reason, I believe. I don't think people should be allowed to get away with making someone hate themselves for something that they did that didn't hurt anybody. I don't think those people should be allowed to think that it's okay to be like that with somebody, either, because then they may become what people call "repeat offenders", or what I call bullies. I don't think that people should have to see bad about themselves, period, nor do I believe that the people who feel bad about themselves can justify taking out their misery on those who brought it about through vengeful, hateful means that can ruin someone's life in one way or another (such as reporting a bully who is otherwise a good person to a disciplinary board after one offence). But I do think that it's okay to give out about bullies and haters so long as you don't name them, least of all publicly and with potential to a lot of strangers. Some people already know what happened on Saturday, others may be wondering what I'm talking about, but at the end of the (very long) day, I'm not going to point out someone on my blog as having insulted, offended and upset me intentionally and through spite, because then I'd not feel bad about when I'd calmed down (fairly calm at the moment, mind you), I'd be worse than the offender had been.

I'm moaning, I'm tired, but I hope I am at least coherent. On top of that, I hope my point makes sense logically. And I hope I don't come across as being spiteful. I'll be honest, I'm annoyed, angry even, but I don't plan on letting that anger consume me or hurt anyone. And I use the word hurt rather loosely - I don't mean I'm going to get physically violent (aside from my detestation of physical violence as a form of dealing with problems, I would most certainly lose this fight), rather I mean that I could potentially hurt someone (a) emotionally or (b) hurt his reputation directly (I understand and appreciate he was not happy with me when he acted the way he did, and that it was out of character - I don't forgive him, but I know he's not always like that) or (c) hurt his future by taking action that may result in his removal from the college.

Anyway, back to where I began - I was having an existential crisis, stemming from the person who I shall not name and shame and his actions on Saturday, and I have conquered it somewhat. I say somewhat, because I had the problem of identity before all this anyway. I have to thank some people, though I won't name them either, but to the people who listened when I had to talk about what was wrong, and to the friend who called me at three in the morning, thank you for being wonderful friends. You don't know how much you all mean to me.

Review - Coraline

Neil Gaiman - what a writer! Coraline is the third of his books that I've read (if you include the delightful picture book Crazy Hair), and I was not at all disappointed. I haven't seen the movie, though from the sounds of it it'd be just as maddening!

I'd bought it from a bargain basket at work after telling myself repeatedly that I ought to read more of his stuff, since I'd like Stardust so much when I read it. It was just sitting there, waiting to be read, and cheaper than I expected. So I went with it, read it at high-speed and loved every moment of it.

Um, what'd you mean "just as maddening"?
The premise of Coraline is that she gets stuck on the other side of a door, in a world where her parents have buttons for eyes and everything is too perfect. The world ends at the woods, when it comes a blank canvas. It's a fairly chilling read for a children's book, but not so frightening that I'd advise against it. As dark as it is, it maintains a message of hope and courage and doing things for other people, and reinforces an idea centred around loving your parents as they are.

How... lovely?
Okay, so that's the meaning I got from the book. I suppose it works better for kids to read the book than for people to just read that it's about that. The message comes across through Gaiman's narrative, his ability to put us inside the mind of Coraline - without going into first-person narrative - and the necessary conflict between good and evil that children's books of this type require.

So, how did it compare to similar books?
On a horror level, it's less scary than the likes of Mr Mumbles (much less scary.) In terms of ingenuity, they're on par with one another. What Coraline has that's different to everything else is the innocence of the character encased in her boldness; she's more ordinary than any other character I've encountered in a fantasy-type story. She doesn't act out for the sake of it, and she's not too loveable. She's written as a child who likes to explore, and she's written that way perfectly and innocently so that we love her as a result. I've never read a character like that. It helps, of course, that Gaiman's other characters are all adults who under-appreciate her, so we're straight away drawn towards the quirkiness of Coraline as she explores a new, backwards world. It's one of the most original and fascinating books I've ever read, even more bizarrely then that it's aimed at children of about eight to ten! This is a must read for them, if they like good stories, because it'll set a standard for stories that children of that age ought to acquire (so they don't then consider Twilight to be top-notch writing.)

Definitely read this one, whatever your age. You won't regret it. (I hope).

Three and a Half Months of THIS?

I'm on my midterm (or eh, "Reading Week") from God College at the moment and it occurs to me that summer is going to be boring. Very, very boring. My time off college had consisted of my usual weekend work in the shop, and cleaning my room. Yes, cleaning. I've had to rearrange my bookshelves again, after my parents went out and bought me a three-shelf Billy and two additional shelves to add in to my taller one, and the end result is that I have to get the books out of the bags they were in on my floor, rearrange everything according to size, so they all fit, and pretend I'm happy about having an hour's extra work on my shelves to do.

Have I done any writing? No. The energy and enthusiasm has been drained right out of me. I need something to do or I'm going to go mad. And I don't mean more hours in work - though the money would be good - because the work to do there isn't always great. I mean I have to find something active to do, or find the willpower and the necessary isolation from Mother of Mine so I can write something and maybe actually do something with my week off that doesn't conform to her standards of Regular Behaviour (i.e. cleaning the kitchen after everyone's mess, rearranging my shelves repeatedly, cleaning my desk even though I never use it anyway and waiting around for one of my uncles to collect a pot of stew).

I want to write. I want to write a book and edit another one, and do some reading for college and some reading for myself, and do my tutorial work, and get a chance to talk to my best friend properly. But no, none of that happens.

And this will be my summer, but instead of a week, it'll be three and a half months. I cannot take it anymore. It's only Tuesday and I'm bored out of my mind! I've only had one full day off since my "Reading Week" began and I can't stand it. I appreciate the time off, but it's not filled with anything worth while. It's just meaningless, unproductive task after meaningless, unproductive and soul-crushing task set by my parents. And it's going to be this way in the summer months, too, until they finally realise that I don't give a damn about what they want me to do, and that really I'm not very happy having to do it all, that they're sucking the life out of me and crushing my dreams, because they don't let me have the God-damned free will I ought to have!

I have got to get out of here. I have got to find something worth doing that can get me away from this mundane repetitiveness before I snap. It's already getting to me, and from here it'll just start getting to other people by proxy. And Mother of Mine says I didn't used to be this way? That's because I used to be allowed to make decisions for myself. Instead my parents say I'm not living in a hotel and I have to pull my weight. I didn't realise this was living. It's more autonomy than anything else, and the treatment isn't to hotel standards. They book their holidays and they go out and we get a list of chores that make up for what they don't do themselves. Sure, we eat the food that was made in the pots, but we didn't ask for it. And we're dragged away from whatever we're doing to clean up. We're not asked, we're told.

Three and a half months of this? I don't think so. I wouldn't last it, not a second time around. My brain would turn to mush. As a friend of mine says, "Lord please release me from this terrible burden..."

Let It Slide

I was happy since Wednesday night. Then I hit a bump in the road. I won't go into the specifics of this, for one reason and one reason only - I'm letting it slide. A person was an ass to me, and I'm sure anyone who knows us both will have seen it already, so there's no need for me to name and shame him. It was offended by him, on so many levels, and while I wanted to do something about it, there was the slight (or, you know, massive!) issue that I had.

See, I have a firm belief that just because someone is an ass does not mean I am then justified in destroying them. Not literally. I mean more along the lines of reporting them for harassment to the college which may have resulted in subsequent disciplinary action against him. No more college, no more foreseeable future. A dead end.

I do not dead-end people. That would make me worse than them.

So I'm letting it all slide. If he wants to be an ass, let him. I honestly don't care what he does anymore, and any trouble he gets in to will be as a result of him or someone else, but not me. I won't be the person to make someone feel like shit about themselves for doing something they can't change.

That's my two-cents this late Saturday night - don't aim to hurt people just because they've hurt you. By all means, if they break the law against you, if they hurt you irreparably, if you can't deal with it, take action against them. But don't hurt people out of spite. It's something I've always known and something I got taught again by my best friend a couple of weeks ago. It's something I can be proud to live by, if nothing else.

Soul Friend

During one of my education lectures (I think...) there was a bunch of discussion about relationships and different types of people, and the term 'Anam Cara' came up. This is, pretty literally, the Irish for Soul Friend. The concept is relatively simple, or I'm making it too simple: you have a friend you can tell anything.

I suppose it goes deeper than that. It's a relationship. Not a romantic one, by necessity, but a relationship nonetheless, like every other friendship or business partnership you'll ever have, and as such the implication that you can tell this one person anything also suggests that they, too, can tell you anything. The mutual level of trust is there, even if it becomes shaky at times - my own personal experience of the matter, and not something I wish to try again.

It's not just about trust, though. I mean, we all place a degree of trust in the people we talk to. We trust teachers. We (used to almost always) trust priests. We trust our parents. We just the chaplain at our school/college. But that doesn't mean we tell them everything, and it doesn't mean we feel the same way about them as we do about our Soul Friend.

The term itself suggests a connection that runs deeper than just the talk and the other aspects of a friendship, like drunkenly laying an arm over someone's shoulder. It's something you can't explain, really, no matter how hard you try and no matter how many words you have in your vocabulary. It's a form of love that can't be broken, but not the same as a parent's love for his/her child, or the same as the sort of love you have for someone in a romantic (and sexual) relationship. It's a run-deep kind of love that doesn't get celebrated on Hallmark day.

I believe in the idea of the Soul Friend. I believe in it because sometimes, even for an attendee of God College, believing in God and having faith in God is difficult. I believe in God's existence alright, but more often my faith is placed in my Soul Friend. It's a comfort thing, on one level, having someone there to talk to, but it's also something more basic than that - I have faith that he can do right. It's what we lack in God, sometimes; there's a great expectation that nothing should go wrong, then a tsunami strikes and thousands die, along with the faith of thousands more. Without getting to religious on the matter, I'd say it's because the love for God and the faith in God lacks two-way communication, lacks the certain security that comes with the sound of another human voice telling you everything's going to be okay, even when there's nothing wrong, telling you how to deal with something when you didn't ask, and letting you talk when you need someone to listen. God listens alright, but the problem I reckon lots of people have is that it's like it's all forgotten a second later and nothing ever gets done.

You can't just look for your Soul Friend. It sounds unfair, I know, that some people have them and others don't, but it's not the richest or the happiest, or the poorest or the saddest that find a Soul Friend. It just happens. It happens and you can't escape it, and you don't want to lose it when you find it. I know if I thought I'd like this friendship, nothing would stop me trying to make things right. I suppose that's dangerous, too, because it means I can put myself in some sort of physical danger, firstly, as well as emotional danger if it just can't be fixed, if the pieces don't quite fit back anymore.

That was my worry once, until I found new pieces that held the old ones together, too.

I write this, on a Friday night because really I don't do anything beyond going to the cinema, but specifically on a Friday because that's the day my interviews will be posted when they're done. Friday is my sort of Friendship Appreciation Day, and Hallmark won't ruin that. But for me, friendship isn't just confined to one day on my blog. Every day in my friendships is important. I just make sure not to test things with my Soul Friend on a Tuesday. Long story. I won't be telling it.

That Was...Different

In contrast to my birthday "celebrations" on Tuesday (steak, basically), I went out last night. I don't go out very much. This experience was not entirely alien to me. Not entirely.

But I drank. I mean, I've had alcohol before, but never very much. Last night... enough to get drunk. Being drunk for the first time because your friend insists of getting you drinks (I didn't exactly put up much of an argument... as if I would have been heard over the thumping music, anyway!) and then proceeding to drink said drinks and liking them... too much... well, it was all different.

I don't know what it's like for everyone else who's ever gotten drunk, but for me there was a sudden realisation that I was drunk, when I heard myself laugh in a way I don't normally laugh. And I didn't care.

I won't disclose the details of my alcohol related banter, except that it was, as they say, mighty. It was probably the best night of my life. I suppose I do owe that to the friend who bought me all the drinks (we were doing rounds... and he skipped me sometimes). I mean, it was great in the house beforehand, having pizza and a bit of craic with the Wii (I barely ever use the consoles in my house!), but things just got so much better when we got to the pub. It wasn't just the drinks, like. He came all the way from Meath for the night out (after I pestered him repeatedly...) and that really meant a lot to me. Plus the rest of my friends were still great craic.

It made up for the entirely boring Tuesday. Mainly I was in a mood, and I took it out on people in general rather than specific people, but I was just moaning for the sake of moaning, not for the sake of actually meaning anything by it. I've explained that to a few people already now, but it does deserve its place in the public spotlight from whence the trouble came.

Now... the hangover. I've seen lots of people with hangovers. There are grumpy hangovers, sleepy hangovers, moaning hangovers, giddy hangovers - many of which are also a combination of alcohol still being in the system - and then there was my hangover - the hungry hangover. I keep wanting to eat... everything. I've never felt so hungry for no reason at all, the feeling unabated by a Twirl bar and two cups of tea (and that after my breakfast this morning!). I didn't have a headache, which was weird. I didn't struggle out of bed (I got up before my alarm!). I didn't really feel the alcohol... I mean, I was tired from lack of sleep, but not crippled by it. I just want to eat... a lot.

I could say that this is all research into my books. I could very easily pass it all off as that. But honestly, it was just a lot of banter, and I don't regret any of it.

And finally, a massive public thanks to everyone who came last night and made the night so worthwhile!

Review - Will Grayson Will Grayson

What happens when you take two New York Times bestselling authors, throw in some homosexuality, some musical references, two characters with the same name and a big ball of irony? The answer is simple: Will Grayson Will Grayson, the fantastic novel from John Green and David Levithan. Set in Illinois, in two parts of it, the book follows the adventures of two teenage boys by the name of Will Grayson. One has a gigantic gay best friend, the other is a closet homosexual, and the book isn't technically about either of them.

What do you mean it's not about them? They're the title characters!

While this facet of information is true, the book revolves around the character of Tiny Cooper - our big ball of irony, and Will 1's gay bezzie. (I can't believe I just wrote that, honestly.) To quote Will 1, 

 "Tiny Cooper is not the world's gayest person, and he is not the world's largest person, but I believe he may be the world's largest person who is really, really gay, and also the world's gayest person who is really, really large." 

Tiny's social gravity captures everyone into an orbit they cannot seem to escape. From the Wills to the girls they're friends with, and spreading outwards into Illinois in general - mainly the school - Tiny Cooper brings the whole ensemble of characters together.

So why didn't they call the book Tiny Cooper?
Because then we can't see the wonderful device they use to illustrate that names aren't always appropriate. Two Will Graysons almost expect to be the same. They have an imaginary club - One Will Grayson to another. If the book was called Tiny Cooper, we'd never get to see what Tiny has to offer, because we'd be looking too hard. Really, when you read this book you need to just read it and let it take you by surprise. It's handy, of course, that the authors are brilliant and witty, and so we get distracted from the universe in their comedies and tragedies and before we know it we're halfway through the book and finally used to how Levithan writes his chapters - he writes Will 2's parts; you'll understand what's so difficult about the reading of his chapters when you read them.

You keep saying "when"...
This is true - you will read this book. Rude not to. It's perhaps one of the greatest books I've ever read, because in its imperfections we are exposed to the humanity of the situation. This is a character based book. Characters have imperfections. They are, aside from the physical, human. Everything that's wrong with this book - things I can't even think of, because the good shines out over the good - is completely right as being part of the whole. So yes, I say "when" because you really ought to read this book to see the importance of names and how we can see people in different ways. And the ending is just fantastic!

So what now?
Now..? Now I have to hunt down some of David Levithan's books. I've read all of John Green's published novels. I have to wait for the next one. This has not happened to me before. I have not been in a situation of having read all of John Green's books and having to wait for the next one. So I have to read David Levithan's books and hope they're a wonderful substitute! From the impression I get of him from John Green, I will be suitably pleased.

Now, buy the book, read it, love it!