Depressing, Slightly Existential Ramble

College, you foul mistress, tempting me with freedom while instead trapping me in a glass cage...

So yeah, engineering = a metric fuckton of work (sorry, I just can't use imperial measurements). I wouldn't even mind if it wasn't for the fact that I forget half of the stuff we're currently doing. It's in my head but I just don't know where, like the proverbial needle in a haystack.

Niggling doubts that I may have chosen the wrong course... Sympathies anyone? Advice maybe? I dunno, shtick it out for now, it's interesting, and that is the pinprick of light at what is now looking to be a long and arduous, and work filled tunnel.

Positivities please! Saturday should be fun. Need to get better time management skills, completely made a fuck of my weekend just past by way of thinking there were more hours in the day than was actually possible. That one hour was worth it though, even if it was over in a second...

I wish I had more to say; I assumed that once I got to college my life would be packed to the rafters of new and exciting things to blog about, and would make for a more pleasant reading for all involved, but alas it seems it was not destined to be, for it seems life still the same bland, boring, monochrome mess it was before I jetted off to the Pale... This blog has taken a turn down a wrong road for the moment but I feel i can get it back on track. Next post will be full of fun, but right now I'm tired, scared and missing the woman I love. There are things to be happy about, but it feels like they're being washed away by the tides of monotony that will soon become my life. 9-5 job? No thanks. €30,000 in fees once I leave college? Also a big negative. I know I have the power to make life my own, I just wish I knew how. Helplessness, thy name is Aidan Connolly.

Normal service will resume as soon as possible.

Ain't Nuthin But a Hound Blog

I will be leaving for college in roughly five and a half hours. I'm not going to try and sleep because I know I can't. I haven't felt this way about anything in a looooong time. I'm excited because of the sheer number of possibilities awaiting me in what I'll have to call my home for the next four years, and frankly, the fact that I have to have a new place to call home kindof scares me, but in the most satisfying way. I am dangerous, I know. I've often wished for something new to come along and shake up this existence until all that's left is the bare bones from which I can rebuild, and I think I'm being given that chance now, and I am glad for that.

What's not so easy to do however, is to be happy about what I'm leaving behind. Friends, family, a wonderful girlfriend, my home, my old life, my habits, my comforts, my sense of me? I hope not. I'd like to think I won't change, but I know this experience will change me. Whether it'll change me in the way that noone wants me to change is a question that remains to be answered, but I think we can all rest assured that the day I say "roysh" without even the slightest hint of sarcasm or irony, will be the day run naked through Waterford singing every verse of "I am the Walrus". Ladies and Beatles fans, keep checking my updates for further information...

I don't know what to write about. I don't want to write just now, but I feel I have to. Damn you Blogger you vivacious seductress you, tempting me with your voluptuous binary curves and sensuous digital invitations tempting me to sell my soul to you for that one more fleeting high of a successful blog post. I seriously need to get out more and spend less time with my word a day calendar...

Dan Brown: Who gives a fuck? Not me.

Blog Standard Stuff

Life is good. Like, really good... I still feel like i have nothing to write about, or rather to say, nothing to write about that I would like to broadcast to the world (of seven people who read this blog, thanks you guys, make this all worthwhile:P), but I do feel like i have to blog. So, I think I'll do what I did last time, and randomly spew forth farcical follies from the toxic waste container that is my noggin. Enjoy!

(viewer discretion is advised, some sentiments may contain strong language and/or frequent uses of the word "umbrage")

I like that word, umbrage... I wish I could use ot more often, or even at all, but then I often wonder if I were to use it so frequently, would I be as fond of it? Or would it become a heroin-like addiction where each use of the word wouldst deliver unto me untold ecstasy as though from the halls of Valhalla itself, and I would be forced to create situations whereby the use of the word would not only be considered not unusual, but in fact necessary? I'd become a mad man, ringing up Liveline to tell Joe Duffy the exact quantities of umbrage I had taken when I heard about the fact that "Nice" biscuits aren't really all that nice, and the Consumer Rights Commitee won't do a goddamn thing. I seriously love the word though...

UMBRAGE

Say it, you know you want to...

MICHEAL MOORE! I mean, really, where does he get off eh? He's now releasing a film about how capitalism is the world's greatest evil, and that he is the voice of reason in a sea of batshit insane voices. Look, Micheal Moore is a good filmaker, but that's the problem. I enjoyed Bowling for Columbine, it made me think, but his guerilla filming style is not a substitute for hard facts. It's sensationalist, and everything that I really don't like in a serious political issue; it clouds facts, sullies arguments, and according to some reports just plain makes some shit up. It was entertaining, and if Micheal Moore were to turn his hand to directing mockumentaries in the style of say, Spinal Tap or The Office (UK version, US is good, but less of a mockumentary, more of a sitcom), then i would probably like the guy, but as it stands, by sensationalising his points, doing wild stunts, and then standing brazen faced and saying they have real political merit, he becomes, in my eyes, a bigger joke than the ones that were no doubt hurled at him during gym class as a kid. (Come on, it's Micheal Moore, I couldn't sidestep a fat joke... or him, without breaking a sweat. ZING!)

I like big cups of tea, for some reason they taste better. I know that doesn't really make much scientific sense, but really, I prefer the taste of tea when I know I'll be drinking it for an hour, and slowly turning my insides brown in the process. A tea swimming pool would be a sort of heaven for me... In theory. In practice I'd be horrified at the thought of all the hidden plasters, urine, and copious amounts of sweat that would be lacing my beverage. Icky...

Facebook: How? I mean, I've finally joined the new networking craze (I say new, I mean new to me, sorry about all you technophiles out there who prefer to be in contact with three billion people in seventeen different ways, when one or two seem perfectly ok to me, but whatever), and I just cannot use it. I initially joined to see some photos, with the intention of purging myself from the bittersweet embrace of its binary prison after viewing. I reneged on this however, as I felt it would no doubt be necessary for future viewings of visual delectation, but was found out not so long ago, and now have people joining me and invitations to stuff I don't understand, sort of like going out in Waterford.
     It's hard to say I don't like facebook, because really, I dunno, it presents itself with all the fervour of a little child with a new trick that it's eager to show you. You know you may not be entertained by the trick, but you'll watch and clap, and play along, as you don't want its feelings to get hurt. Again, it isn't that I don't like facebook, it's that IT doesn't like ME. I sign in and am bombarded with stuff I don't want to do, and then when I try to do the stuff I actually want to do, it becomes a coy little bitch, thows a coquettish smile, winks and asks me to try harder. I'm going to stick with facebook, if only out of sheer spite, but I feel I won't like it...
     Coincidentally, if you're ever online, leave a comment/message/stone tablet/whatever you leave on facebook, and once I can get it to stop playing hard to get I will get back to you... Maybe...

Well dear friends, we have reached the end of this once seemingly endless path, and what have we learned? Absolutely bugger all I assume, but I hope you've enjoyed my wasting of your precious time, I know I sure did. 'Til next time kids, just remember that when the pupil is ready, the teacher will come.

(That is also true of altar boys and priests, but for legal reasons, cannot be mentioned on this blog.)

This Is A Test; Do Not Adjust Your Blog-o-vision

College is consuming my mind. I'm sorry my posts aren't more varied, but really, there's nothing else in my mind but college. Well, maybe one thing =)

I can't think of aaaaaanything to write so I shall fill this with random thoughts I am currently having. Enjoy.

I own one pair of shoes presently and they are white. I live in a backwater rural area where roads are mostly covered in shit instead of tar. Worst impulse buy ever.

Chilli con carne is a sort of wonder food. It makes my insides smile, and my mouth jump for joy. If I started a country it would have a plate of chilli con carne on the flag, and there would be a chilli con carne memorial day instead of easter. Or maybe instead of pancake tuesday. I mean, pancakes are great and all, but because they have a day to themselves, it sometimes doesn't feel right to have them just because you want to. With my regime, there will be no stigma attached to pancakes.

There are several beeping noises around me right now. One of them is particularly ominous. I think a crazed bomber has infiltrated my living space. I'll keep you posted.

Schadenfreude: what a word...

The metric system for time... I'm just saying, we should give it a try... Although I dunno would I ever cope with people saying it's 94 past 76 or whatever, but it'd probably make things easier. Right? Guys?

The semicolon is like the forgotten child of punctuation. Not that it's terribly useful, but I bet 90% of people couldn't tell where or when to use a semicolon. This one's for you buddy

Well, I've run out of cerebral sewage to pillage for the purposes of my blog so I'd better wrap this up by saying that life is like a box of chocolates; it's good at first, but you feel kinda shit when you reach the end...