Whatever happened to that silly dream you had?

This week. Much the same as all the weeks before, truth be told. I've come close to making a decision about my trainwreck love life, although recently I'm falling back towards yet another guy I can't have. These things seem to follow me.

I've been to the gym a lot and applied for a lot more jobs. I'm bored and restless, and I don't like it one bit.

Over the past few days I've watched Finding Nemo, Batman, Batman Returns and Monsters, Inc. All fantastic films.
Today is Orange Wednesday, so I saw The Incredible Hulk with Jennie. Whilst the dialogue was stilted and lacking a lot in the way of emotion, a superhero film (in my eyes) doesn't need it so much as it needs fantastic action and a good villain. Both of which Hulk has. Wonderful. 7/10.

Erykah tagged me to do this. I only know of 2 people who read my blog so I shalln't bother tagging myself, but as I was commanded, I shall do as I'm told.
List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they’re listening to.

1. Pink Roses - Glassjaw It just came on my WMP and I absolutely adore it. My favourite Glassjaw song, I never get tired of it. Plus, it's coming up to a year since I saw them and I'm in pure nostalgia mode.
2. Murder - Ashlee Simpson I love Ashlee Simpson a fair bit. This is my fave song off the new album and I seem to listen to it at least twice a day at the moment. Partially because it's on my gym playlist and partially because I just love it.
3. London Bridge - Fergie I don't know. I really don't. I just can't stop listening to it.
4. In Vein - Alkaline Trio Nearly time for the new album. I'm resisting downloading the leaked version, so I've stuck with the EP and this is my favourite song on it.
5. Jetlag - Frank Turner Easily the most beautiful song I've heard in ages. Stunning. Not much more to be said.
6. We're All Alone - Architects I haven't seen them in a while, and with Ghostfest being a possibility I started listening to them again. In my opinion, probably the best song they've ever written. Not my favourite, but their best.
7. Wake The Dead - Comeback Kid Tune. Simple as. Listen to it in the gym a lot and at home to get me excited for seeing them next month. Even though I'm already excited.

I'll do a proper blog update soon maybe. I don't have much to say.

In an attempt to get the creative juices flowing again, I did a freewrite this afternoon. I spent five minutes writing on a title given on allpoetry: The inconvenience of being uninspired. Whilst the freewrite itself was nothing special, I took my highlighter to a few phrases which echoed my feelings quite accurately whilst simultaneously continuing my previous writing style and giving me room to write more.
I came up with a flowing prose...thing. Shocking that an English student has no idea what to call this. Anyway, I'm glad that it's the first thing in my new notebook, because I think it very accurately describes myself and the processes I'll be going through to write again.

My thoughts are unpoetic. What runs through my head is not unique or beautiful. I am not visionary. I cannot fill these pages merely by willing the words to appear. Each rounded, looped, crossed and dotted letter is the product of a mechanical thought. That which is mechanic is forced and planned - it can never be poetic.
If I were a great Romantic I would dedicate every line of this book to the muses, to Classical deities long forgotten and never believed in. I am a cynic in an age of atheism; the muses have forsaken me because I choose not to believe in them. A fair and mutual agreement I think.
I am not a great Romantic. My thoughts are unpoetic. Each curl of my hair does not drip assonance and similes. My blood does not cry out in metaphor or apostrophise an absent lover. My heart does not beat in iambic pentameter, my pulse has no foot. There is no romance in my body, just as there is no poetry in my mind.
Beauty cannot inspire me, yet it moves me. My soul craves melody, harmony and song. I no longer sing with my own words.
I need beauty in all things, but I am not a Romantic. I am no aesthete. I am not a poet.

They found me face down in the street

I've spent the last two days reading, basking in the sun and listening to my favourite band. My new phone arrived, and I played darts. That's all. Whilst I would normally be twitching to do something by now, my sleep pattern has left me appreciating my lazy days considerably more than usual.

Tomorrow I'm spending the entire day with Jennie, doing girly things and joining the gym. I've gone far too long without any kind of exercise, and I need something to fill up some time and get me out of the house. We'll see how it goes.

Films. I'm putting off the PT Film Club review for a little longer, as we're still waiting for a fair few people to watch the film and make discussion worthwhile. Today I watched The Aristocats, a classic Disney film (despite there being so much of Robin Hood in it!). Really there's not much more you can say, childhood films are wonderful, particularly Disney classics. I've just finished Children of Men. I can't quite decide exactly how I feel about it. The uprising scene is fantastic in every way, and almost makes up for the rest of the film failing to really grip me as it probably should have done. I think the problem is that, as far as visions of the future of mankind go, I've become rather too well acquainted with V For Vendetta, and find this to be considerably lacking in many of the things which made that film so great. Clive Owen is quite good, although on reflection he hardly speaks. Perhaps that's why. On a scale of 1-10 I'd say a generic 6 - nothing special, but not particularly apalling either.

I hope this is goodbye

I change my mind everyday when it comes to him. I know I'm a fool, falling for everything he says when I know it's all lies. And yet, every time he comes into my life I do the same thing. The more I can convince myself that I'll never mean anything to him, the easier this whole business will be. I can't do this anymore.

On a more positive note, I found a job. Another hospitality agency, much like the one I work for in London, only this one deals primarily in sporting events. With four offices around the country, we get to travel around a fair bit (with travel, accommodation and food paid for by the company if we have to stay somewhere). I'm looking forward to getting my first job emails through tomorrow, I'm itching to get out and start working. We get paid weekly as well, so I'll be able to get into my budget habits again. In theory at least.

I spent yesterday in Liverpool at DM's gig. Well, in truth I hardly spent any time at the show, as Sheen and Chris kept deciding to go wandering and I went with them. It was good to see Sheeny again, our regular 6-month catch up as we're beginning to see it. We talked about old times, pop punk and messed up love lives. Considering it was the first time I've met Chris we got on really well, mostly because we have a similar taste in music. If it means I don't have to go to The Black Dahlia Murder alone on Wednesday, I shalln't complain. Seeing DM is always wonderful, it's just a shame it doesn't happen more often. Although this year we appear to be setting a new record for actual face-to-face interaction.

I watched Elephant earlier this week, but I'm going to hold off on reviewing it, as I want it to be my choice for the PT film club. Speaking of which, I'm watching this week's right now. Review in a couple of days once the discussion is really under way.

Telling myself it's true

I spent last night with him. A boy who means more to me than I've ever liked to admit, even to myself. Recently I've come to realise that people change as the times change, and that maybe someone you once never believed can now be trusted. This theory will be put to the test over the next few weeks, I'm sure, but for now I'm playing it by ear. Which is not a process I enjoy. Needs must however, and I'm happy just to have him back in my life. We drank, we talked, we watched films and we laughed. I love Leeds, and it really is an option for my MA. But looking deeper into the courses today, Sheffield stand out so much more. Any course where I can study realism, Russian literature and the evolution of Chartism is clearly tailor made for me. But that's another bridge to be crossed later.

Films.
Yesterday I watched La Vie en Rose, an absolutely fantastic biography of Edith Piaf. Whilst subtitled films obviously require much greater concentration than my usual fare, I found that I was still able to connect to the characters and tragedies on the screen. In terms of cinematography the entire film was evocative of its era, lush yet muted colours which truly suited the time and place of the action. Marion Cotillard was a revelation, and I understand the Awards buzz around her now. Wonderful.
Today has been a mixed bag. Black Sheep is awful. That's all that needs to be said. The Lost Boys, whilst enjoyable, felt distant to me. I felt no real interest or connection, and merely treated the film as something to look at rather than watch. Bright Young Things on the other hand was phenomenal. As with La Vie en Rose, the entire cinematography and feel of the film created the period setting so wonderfully that I almost felt as though I was enjoying the decadent '30s myself. Funny, smart, colourful and sarcastic in a way that screams of Mr. Fry, any film involving James McAvoy and David Tennant could hardly have failed to disappoint me.

Crashing inside you like motorbikes

Now that I've removed the choler from my system with my earlier post, I can focus on the more day-to-day things.
I moved home yesterday. Whilst I'm happy to be back somewhere where I don't have to worry about bills or cooking, I'm a little restless already. My concentration is non-existant, I'm struggling to find a job, and my creativity is at an all-time low. I'm going to set myself some poetry tasks to start writing again, although admittedly I've said that repeatedly this year. And last year. And the year before.

I watched the first Punktastic Film Club film last week, and as our discussion has started now, I'll post my review.

Sharkwater is not the type of film I would usually watch. Despite this, I found myself drawn into the plight of the sharks by the passion of the filmmaker and the sheer beauty of the shots. Combining the pure emotion of the anti-finning community with scientific facts aiming to confront the negative image of the shark, against the brutality and stupidity of the hunters and governments supporting the finning trade, the documentary manages to both inform and move the viewer at the same time. For someone who had no idea about the finning trade and the extensive nature of shark hunting, such as myself, the film provided an encompassing view of the entire problem. The final screen informs us that 15,000 sharks have been killed whilst the film has played - 15,000 in 2 hours. Pause for thought indeed.