Small Talk

Small talk is all code.

By asking about the weather, schools, jobs etc. we can determine everything we need to know about a person. For example, imagine you go for a cup of coffee or something and there's a queue. As you're waiting in line, you strike up a conversation with another caffeine enthusiast. You can't make the usual jokes or use the usual slang and tone you would with friends and family, so you adopt a more soothing and a more generally acceptable version of yourself.

This is Step 1: Assimilation

Step 2: Research begins at the actual interrogation. "Where are you from?/what do you do for a living?/What's your blood type?/At what exact time of the day will you be home alone?". The usual routine.
Their answers reveal the darkest recesses of their mysterious and often terrifying personalities. "It's windy out today isn't it?" you'll say.
"I held a wedding ceremony for my cat and its favourite scratching post this morning. I can't wait until the kittens are born" they'll reply.

Step 3: Reaction Is where you decide whether or not, as a result of your attempts at small talk you can continue the conversation and potentially make a new friend or quietly and subtly dissuade them from talking to you, pay for your coffee (or not, I'm not a cop) and leave knowing you might have just escaped from the clutches of a serial killer.

Alternatively, you might have made them realise they're going to die alone and thus forced them to take out their pain, abandonment and subsequent aggression on the world, birthing a mad man of untold potential into society.

This must be why I don't have any friends. Too many serial killers about. Do I put out some kind of mass murderer victim vibe?

Ever since I was really young, I always loved it when you were in class and you were divided up into groups to do a project or something. Everyone would groan because they didn't get to pick their groups they could stuff with their friends. I would be disappointed as well, at least ostensibly. But really I was excited that I would get to work with someone that I usually didn't speak to so i could make a new friend.

That makes me sound horribly lonely and friendless. I wasn't and am not today, I swear (*sob*). I just enjoy making new friends. I'm good at it too. But unfortunately I have an intense hatred of small talk. I'm what you might call an acquired taste. I get a little uncomfortable when I meet a new person because I don't really know what to say. I just open my mouth and words I hadn't planned to say come crashing out like a tsunami of awkwardness and bad jokes.

Usually I say the bare minimum and get straight to the point. "Where do you go to school?" "Stirling" ...*silence*. When I realise I'm socially obliged to say something else to fill this void, I make a joke that is either terrible, unrelated or simply has no basis in reality.
It gets worse when they ask about my course, which is Psychology by the way. They ooh and aah in all the appropriate places and ask what I hope to do with that.

As it turns out vague questions about my goals in life are my kryptonite. That and light to moderate pain.

Yet when they are forced to be around me for a length of time they come to see that I am likable (sometimes),charming (eventually) and funny (no). This is why I will be just fine in halls come September.

These people will have to come to like me.

They have no choice...

Anti-Explanation

Oh hi there. I did just post a while ago and not mention the fact I didn't write anything for a year didn't I?
What has it been? 5...6...1 year 31 weeks and 6 days?

Time's just flown hasn't it?

So what's happened in all this time? What changes have there been in my day to day life, in my ongoing existence on this planet, in my very core and fundamental beliefs?

...not much.

In all honesty I can't really remember. It's all a bit of a blur. Of course you can't take my word for it. My memory of this morning is a bit of a blur. There was definitely cereal involved...or was that toast? Did I have breakfast?

Sidetracked. Some things never change.

Myself and 10 of my friends went on holiday to - shock horror- Magalluf. Can you believe it? 11 teenage boys threw a dart at a globe and managed to hit the most popular destination spot for those who find themselves in the limbo that is the year between secondary education and university. A place where morals and supervision go to die. What are the odds?

But don't let that fool you. We were responsible mature adults who looked out for each other and didn't cause a stir to the local populace...mostly.

We stole tables from various hotel rooms to give us one large one, the centre of which was reserved for our salad bowl which we periodically filled with random assortments of alcoholic beverages as per the rules of the glorious game "Kings" or as it's also known "Ring of Fire"

This game actually led to the expansion of my vocabulary with words such as "chunder", "chundering dragon" and "oh my god please help me my insides are on fire I'm going to die" making new and interesting additions to my dictionary.

Now, the law and my pride prevents me from discussing any further details of the trip. Any enquiries you have can be addressed to my lawyer who will swiftly use many technical phrases and legal jargon to confuse and disarm you with the ultimate message being "shut up and go away".

What else...oh yes

ALL OF MY FRIENDS HAVE LEFT ME

Well okay that's not strictly true. They went to university. Most of them are in Belfast, some went to Derry, hell some of them are still in Ballymena. But it leaves me with little chance to distribute my dangerous habit. A habit that is detrimental to both myself and those around me. A habit that could lead me to an early grave. Something I got hooked on when I was 15. One day everything was normal and then BOOM. Addiction hit me like a freight train.

When I was fifteen years old I got addicted to talking. Not just talking mind you. But producing unhealthy amounts of bull shit and terrible jokes that proved to be detrimental to my health and the patience of those around me.

I like to think I'm pretty good at it too. But of course that mightn't be true. It could be my ego. Or my penchant for bullshitting. Or it could be my ego AND my penchant for bullshitting teaming up in a super villain-esque tag team to rid the world of any remnants of my virtuous nature still in existence.

This gift of the gab will eventually cause everyone around me to leave. Oh they'll say they tried to help.

They'll say

"how can we help someone who doesn't want to be helped?"

They'll say

 "James for the last time you aren't funny. You're annoying"

 To which I will reply

"For god's sake I made one pun about Thursday and thirsty! Put the knife away!"

My mother has quite the temper.

I will bear this burden until the end of my days. And by "burden" I mean "blessing". And by "end of my days" I mean until September when I will move to Scotland for university and meet new people who's patience meters have not been tainted and forever damaged simply by being in my presence.

It's fun to bother people.

127 Days

I want to take a moment right now to talk to you about Father Time. Because I have nothing better to do and a lot of time to do it in.

Which is all his fault.

For the seven years I attended secondary school I have wished and begged and pled for more time - more time to finish assignments, more time to study for exams, more time to catch up on my reading and of course more time to sleep my lazy ass back to enthusiasm.

And that crotchety, night-shirt wearing paedophile beat me in the face with his "be careful what you wish for" clock and cursed me to live at home for another year while all my friends get to move on to university.

I have to wait an agonising one hundred and twenty seven days until I can finally experience true independence, when I will leave the country and make a fantastic plethora of mistakes that will haunt me for years to come in ways I can't yet fathom.

It's going to be amazing. But there is still this massive wait before I get to travel off to unseen lands. And by unseen lands, I mean Scotland. Which I suppose isn't exactly unseen. I mean on a good day you can see Scotland off the coast of Ireland (where I live), which is only like a 12 mile gap. But there's all that water in between. So my family can't get to me. Thank sweet Christ for the Irish Sea.

Now I should maybe preface what I'm about to say with the fact that I love my family. I really do. But I've spent a lot of time with them already in my life and I firmly believe that a person isn't supposed to spend more than 18 consecutive years with their families or their primal instincts will force them to tear each other apart. I don't want to fight my family! There are five of them and I know I could take at least four of them. My dad has a bad hip and my mum and two of my sisters aren't quite blessed in the muscles department.

The main problem would be my second oldest sister, Eimhear. She has rage on her side. Plus she does sports! How am I supposed to compete with that? She would kick the ever loving crap out of me, and my religion prohibits my crap being outside of me in any other fashion than pure and simple defecation in one of Armitage Shanks pristine whites.

So obviously I can't stay with the family too much longer, but I don't have much of a choice. I've had to busy myself. I could get in shape! I could learn a language! I could get a jump on my Psychology course for next year and do some independent learning!

Because, as a great man once said:

When life gives you lemons, be glad it was just lemons and your parents weren't mugged and killed in an alley way

- Bruce Wayne 

As I write this I am surrounded by various objects that represent the different hobbies or interests I've adopted over the last year in order to kill time. I see the weights I bought to get into shape, which I then put down when I realised weights are heavy. I see the psychology text book I bought because I thought it was really interesting when I flicked through it in the shop and have since not opened. I see stacks of books waiting to be read which I haven't since I discovered the joy of Pirate Bay and Game of Thrones.

I want to kill time, I really do. But he's a tough bastard and I've been saving my energy for the post-apocalyptic wasteland science fiction novels and movies have assured me is bound to happen sooner or later

"But James" I hear you say "why don't you just get a goddamn job and quit whining". Well aren't you just a lovely little thing. You see, I do have a job. I stock shelves in a budget supermarket type place. I'm pretty sure my official job title is "stock bitch". So, unsurprisingly, like 70% of the world, I hate my job and thus time is eternal during my shift.

Another way Father Time has screwed me over.

But I guess there's not much I can do but gnaw off my arm trapped between the rocks of time and make a movie about it. The arm in this metaphor being my laziness, the rocks of time being the time I have to wait to leave this godforsaken hell hole and the movie being...I don't know, a colourful spin on my "tragedy" which I can use to make money?

I'm bad at writing...

Do I Have To??

That is what I have been asking my peers who demand me to post something new. But I am ashamed to say I have almost lost interest in blogging. Well at least the responsibility I put upon myself of posting every week. Its exhausting! Really I just couldn't be bothered anymore! School will be keeping me busy anyways!

But then again I'm only human. Many people over the world find a new passion every week and then become complacent. This all started because I wanted to be a journalist. Work experience soon put an end to that.

I'm now thinking towards publishing but that's irrelevant. I started this blog because my dad and my aunt suggested it as it would make me look like I was really interested in journalism. But now that I don't want to be a journalist does that mean I don't want to blog anymore?

In a word: No. It doesn't mean that. I mean I always enjoyed it. But after a while I was only doing it because I had set myself this schedule.

And when I rule the world, as you all have realised is an inevitability, there will be no schedule. This is particularly ingenious because any opposing parties will not be able to schedule rallies or protests at my dictatorial actions and I will forever remain in power!

The news is always depressing and boring, so I have decided that the most exciting way I can utilise what little talent in writing is through becoming a fiction author of novels for people my own age. I'm fairly good at making up bullshit. And this is just extended bull shit. How hard could that be?

I already have a few ideas. But I won't share them with you because, let's face it, they probably aren't any good!
I mean 80% of people believe they could write a book but only a minuscule amount of people have one published.

But still. A guy can dream can't he? Plus being an author would be the perfect lifestyle! Getting paid to write down my bullshit, not having to get up early in the morning EVER and nobody could tell me off for it!

So this is my last year at school. Honestly I thought it would never come. Schools been such a large chunk of my life for 14 years, I just assumed subconsciously that it would always be a part of it. But don't fret! For this is the year of the 18ths!

The year of the 18th is exactly what it sounds like. It's the year when everyone in my year turns 18.

What? You didn't figure that out?

Anyway. My birthday, along with three other people who are turning 18 at the same time, falls in the middle of the exams. I know right? Such cruel irony. I hate exams so the universe bitch slaps me with them. Thanks universe. Real decent of you.

It's not all bad though. The school formals coming up on Friday which is an excellent chance to see various teachers inebriated. More than that its going to be hilarious to see who will be drunk in front of the teachers. I've been taking bets and we all have our favourites to win...or lose depending on how you look at it.

No! Being drunk in front of teachers is losing. A brilliantly funny loss. But a loss all the same.

Remember kids, alcohol is bad for you. That is until the second you turn 18 where you liver apparently grows a super strong tolerance for alcohol. But if you're 17 and 364 days old it will kill you. No joke. I've seen it

The guy had a drink to celebrate turning 18 at midnight but his watch was running fast. He took a sip of beer and went into a coma. He was medically dead for the final 47 seconds before he turned 18. Then, when it was really his birthday, he sat up. His body levitated from the ground and glowed bright white. The alcohol was purged from his body and all was well.

OK so maybe now he's incontinent but hey, who ends a story saying the subject can no longer control their bowels?

That'd just be weird....

Nerds ARE Cool

Nerds are given such bad press.

Even the word "Nerd" is used in such a negative context.

Well ladies and gentlemen, this may shock you but...I am a Nerd! *pause for gasp*

Although I prefer the word eccentric. I mean people attribute the word Nerd to anyone who enjoys gaming or genres such as science fiction and fantasy when it comes to their reading material or television preferences.

They make the best books!

I mean have you ever tried reading a non-fiction book like a biography, auto or otherwise? They are INCREDIBLY dull. I mean every football mad ten year old will have picked up something like David Beckham's autobiography which I can only assume is written to the standard I would imagine a primary school teacher would find in homework's collected from their students. But they are still the most boring thing ever to be classified as literary.

This has been brought into my head by one woman helping her daughter pick a pair of glasses to wear. Every time the daughter lifted one all I could hear from her clearly exceedingly mature mother was

Nerd...

Nothing to say what was so nerdy about them. Just "Nerd".

Nerds are usually the ones that don't fall into the typical social norms. Although not through a conscious decision to do so. People that go out of way to avoid being part of social norms are known as Hipsters or scene-sters or collectively as "dickheads". And that's not coming from me.

Really I just wanted to show this to people because I find it frigging hilarious!

But back to my main point, nerds can be fun as well! I mean I'm fun...right??

Don't answer that!

A nerd on a night out can be a lot of fun. Even if it is at his or her own expense.

It was two of my friends 18th birthdays recently and they decided to have a joint party which was great fun!

However, to my utter and eternal shame, I attempted to dance... It was horrifying.

Never shall I live down such shame. Already I have received so much abuse that the life of a hermit has began to sound appealing.

Although in my defence...it was fun at the time! Now nobody stopped me because they thought it was hilarious, which, if I was in their position, I would agree with them.

But I wasn't in their position. I was in my position. The funky, uncoordinated move busting position than has put a black mark on my otherwise sterling reputation.

But then again what's a good night out without any kind of embarrassment? Boring, that's what it is.

And so to Aideen Brogan  and Caoimhe Mc Manus I hope you enjoyed your 18th party.

I mean you obviously did seeing as I was there...

If You Are Reading This, I Am Already Dead

This was originally going to be a post on funerals and organ donation. But about 200 words in I had an epiphany.

Jesus Christ it was boring as hell. Not to mention morbid. I mean who wants to actually read about their organs and donatables being taken from them after they had died.

Not one of my best, I have to say. But now it's left me with a slight conundrum.

What do I write about now? Do I randomly talk complete and utter bullshit? Because both you and I know I could do that. I could do that until Doomsday. But when I do that, I'm just embarrassed by the outcome. It's usually just ridiculous with no point or basis in fact.

I have to do my 3 weeks of work for the year because I am very very broke. Its quite bad. Although after this I won't have to work for quite a while. Then I can just relax.

The only thing I can think of to talk about is the end of the Harry Potter era. The final film came out on the 15th of July and, even though I'm not a huge fan of it, I went to the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. It was on a night out and around 10 of us decided, on a whim, to go see it. The film was good. Not as good as the first half but still. It was fun to go see it with that many people.

Over all the only problems I had with it were the fact that Crabbe, one of Draco Malfoy's infamous previously Caucasian henchmen friends, suddenly became a black guy with no lines. Seemed a bit stupid and pointless but I'm sure there was some reasoning behind it.

Then there was Voldemort. The nose-less, screaming wonder. Don't get me wrong, he was great and even though he screamed seven or eight times in the same way in the trailer, it didn't actually make it to the film.

Other than that I'm just fairly bored! I'm already halfway through the summer, A-Level results come out on the 17th or 18th or something which is fairly daunting.

Oh well. If they're anyway decent I might get to go out for dinner!

E-readers are the future? *spit*

I have always been a big reader. Days could go by where I would not lift my head from a new book for anything other than tea breaks and meals. I prefer reading to any other activity I can do in my house. It trumps watching TV, it trumps playing the Xbox and it blows cleaning right out of the water.

I can spend hours in Waterstones, browsing the Horror, flicking through the Science Fiction, scoffing at the Dark Romance (Twilight wannabes, each and every one of them) and thumb through the Classics.

But now the livelihood of of all book stores has been threatened by the creation of... The E-READER's *spit*.

Now first of all I should say that I can actually see all the advantages to e-readers like the most popular Amazon Kindle. They're great for travelling. You're entire library in the palm of your hand at all times, it can hold around 50,000 books which is more than most people will ever own. It is perfect for people who have never been big readers before the invention of them and if they can't be persuaded to purchase and house all these physical books, I would urge them to buy an e-reader. In reality, the sale of e-books outweighs that of the sales of tangible books. 2 e-books are sold for every physical copy. Clearly the world sees e-readers as the future.

But now I've got the diplomatic crap out of the way, let me tell you what I really think.

E-readers are the stain of the literary world! They take away from the entire experience. You can't bury your head in a tablet computer e-book. You can't make a real decision on whether or not to buy a book. When I'm browsing I like to see the thickness, the size of the words, the space between the sentences judging how long it would take me to read it and whether it would be worth my time buying it and generally being the world's biggest nerd . Online you can't do this. All you get on an online book store or from and e-book retailer is the Total Page count,  the cover, a short synopsis of the book and a nice little picture of the author that nobody really cares about.

Now this may be enough for some, but not for die hard book-worms and certainly not for me! I mean you have to charge the bloody thing! Who wants to have to charge their books before they read them? Even then they only have a finite amount of time before they have to recharge them all over again, thus leading them into a deadly cycle starting with their new found addiction to reading and ending with more electricity being used, non-renewable sources of energy depleted much faster and generally the end of life on Earth as we know it.

Over the top? Well at least I didn't go into detail about how I adore the smell of books. Because even I know that would be a bit creepy and you could lose what little remainder of respect you ever had for me.