Dibley Doo

Exasperation.

2009-09-06T19:28:00.001+01:00

I am thoroughly exasperated from looking for work. Everyone who wants a Geologist in singapore want them highly trained and qualified skilled and foreign. Why not also hire a fledgling geology graduate, pay him less than your stupid expat, and train him to be better than them?

Also... after searching through google for bloody ages, I claim the title as 1st Singaporean Geologist for myself until someone else comes by and claims it. seriously.

And some stupid indonesian company thinks its a great idea to hire junior geologists at 3000000 indon rupiah. wtf. thats £180.

Celebrating what is, and cheering on what isn't.

2009-09-06T15:10:00.002+01:00

Doma is a 36 year old peasant, said the caption beneath a picture of a farmer-type lady clinging on to a hoe amid a back drop of devastation from this week's earthquake in sumatra.

I couldn't stop laughing at the caption. It reminded me of the time I described someone as a peasant in Al's car while driving back to manchester from wales. The conversation was as usaul, full of racial tension ( we were talking about how I have a particular dislike for a country because they were the worse tenants my mom ever had (out of 2)), and I came to this description, where I said;" They (the tenants) behaved like PEASANTS!"

There was a momentary silence, and a sudden roar of laughter.

"You can't say that here in Britain, Jason!!"

"Why not? Peasants are, Peasants!!"

In a country where liberty and democracy are woven in the fabric of society, calling someone a peasant, was apparently, unacceptable, to a certain extent (though we did evolve hurling the word peasant at each other in light jest and banter afterwards). A word that reminded them of the golden age of Britain, where there were the aristocratic classes, the gentry, and of course, the peasants. Calling someone a peasant then, was determining him to be of the lower caste in society, and of course, reminding themselves what an awful time the victorian age was is, a habitual eccentricity of English humility.

In Singapore, the word peasant was taken to be as literal as can be, given by wikipedia:"A peasant is an agricultural worker who subsists by working a small plot of ground." Nothing more.

No insinuations of the colonial slavery that we endured, no misnomers of assuming someone to be of a lower class. A peasant, is a peasant thats all.

In a country like Singapore, where we have very little to think about, and very little that impacts the world (positive or negative), words are still very literal in meaning, there are hardly any hidden insinuations, or political correctness, or sensitivities that we have to constantly be alert of.

Growing up in a multi-cultural society has made each and everyone of us very much in tuned to one and another, such that any language that can be conceived as derogatory, are usually taken in jest in our little city state. Racial tensions? I think WE think, not.

Its strange how we can share a table with our Malay and Indian or Chinese friends, and have a meal with them, but neither of us races can tolerate a foreign entity like the Bangladeshi workers or PRCs who arrive in droves. We all are afterall, descendents of migrants, who like them, were only looking to earn more money for home.

But come a 150 years, and wind and rain, storms, wars and riots, many of us consider us first to be Singaporean, then our own skin colour, and that is, in itself, a great blessing. As long as these migrants do not step out of their comfort zones to engage Singapore for who we are (singlish speaking, gum chewing, complaining, orderly mess), they're never going to fit in.

Complaints from a resident tourist.

2009-09-02T07:13:00.002+01:00

10 major gripes I have, about Singapore.

1) The heat.

I've always known that, but bad things are always the last things you remember. Its like the plethora of midges in the West Highlands, and the Mosquitoes in the Nature reserve. But yes. The heat. is almost intolerable.

Its not so much the heat, but the humidity. All it takes is a 5 minute walk to the bus stop to make me want to beg for a shower. How am I supposed to last the whole day like this?

I always beg that we eat in some place with air conditioning every time. I know. Its ridiculous.. but everywhere in singapore, is air conditioned. There is no reason why I can't enjoy my meal in cool creature comfort.

The worse bit? The strange stares I get from my friends, who then follow my beatitudes of complaints with; " Its very cold today what."

2) Personal Space.

This is a touchy issue. Very touchy. Literally. I've been to many many big metropolitan cities all over the world, and I've never felt so uncomfortable before. There was never an issue with personal space before, even in the larger and more crowded cities like London and Istanbul.

The thing is, Singaporeans have a penchant of walking very close to each other. Even thought they are strangers, all to one another. The distance between me and that stranger walking in the same direction? is too close. Its making me too uncomfortable, and I feel like pushing him away. Or shouting at him.

The worst part is, I feel dirty afterwards.

The humidity doesn't really help.

This correlates with a major Singaporean habit of suddenly stopping in their tracks, and blocking ALL traffic. WTF. Why can't you stop at the side? why must you suddenly make a U turn in the fucking middle of a crowd?? WHY!?

Basically, Singaporeans acknowledge that there is a lack of space in their country, therefore, in order to mentally cope with that, they block out images of crowds, and even if they are surrounded by huge ant like masses, they believe that they HAVE the right of way, because, no one else is around them. Its a strange psyche. I call it, the John Dorian Syndrome. Everyone in Singapore thinks they're John Dorian from Scrubs.

3) The Ang Mohs! Apa ini Ang Moh! WHY!

I swear, 3 years ago, there weren't that many ang mohs (caucasians, yes you, you white trash) in Singapore. It is so strange to return to see Marine Parade central CRAWLING with ang mohs (dressed in HDB auntie clothes, which makes it all the weirder), or SERANGOON with the regular Angmoh-after-work-crewe. Seriously.. I know that the government has been very encouraging with foreign talents, but this is totally strange. I like my Singapore yellow brown and black.

WORSE.. the regular ang moh usually has a young Singaporean/Filipina/PRC girl clinging on their arms, usually half their age, and definitely on any international scale, much more attractive.

Walking along orchard road one evening, we counted 8 such couples in half an hour, all of which fitted the atypical stereotype of old-middle-aged-balding-with-big-belly angmoh locking arms with slim-long-haired-young-asian. They're everywhere, and I have a tendency to scowl at them, or spit at them, or both.

Inter-racial couples are of course, acceptable, within reasonable grounds. But young asian girls hankering after unattractive white men is completely the actions of a harlot, and nothing less.

(p.s it was 9 couples, but i decided they didn't count, as the couple was in their 30s ish, equally attractive, and looked genuinely smiley happy, rather than the scowl or the fake smile commonly put up by the rest)

4) Singrish ah.

I tell u ah. Dis wan really buay tahan. Dunch know why hor, singapolean kanch not tok pwopery wan. Den hor, the people who tok rike dat hor, is all deh universitee student one you know or not. Make me hear already wan to vomit blood. The lao auntie lao uncle tok right dat I nevermind. but wah lao eh, young singapolean got tak chek one they tok until they like no go school like that. sian zi bua.

yes that was in english.

5) Public transportation.

I have to give it to our government. It is indeed the BEST system of public transportation in the world. But i just hate having to take it. Used to drive everywhere.

Oh.. but it is also the first time i got shoved on a train, by some stupid bitch. I retaliated by elbowing her, in the face.

6) Going out, is akin to travelling to city centre or something, from Eccles, or sometimes, Hebden Bridge.

Too used to living 15 minutes away from city centre in Manchester.

7) Vhere are zeh greehn spaces?

Really. Where? I miss caving and hiking, big time.

8) I can see my neighbours living room from where I am sitting. now.

Really. I hate it so much.

9) The children smell.

Everytime I board a bus to go somewhere in the afternoon, the buses are naturally packed full of very smelly teenagers and children who just got off from school. Seriously, why do they smell so bad? I swear I never smelt that bad!!

10) Huh.. joe-logy, Singapore can do what?

Firstly, its geology, secondly, alot of things.

A new psyche.

2009-08-21T06:18:00.002+01:00

Its been 4 days since returning, and still, I am not yet accustomed to this whole, being a singaporean living in singapore thing.

There is so much going on for and in Singapore, new shopping centres, changing skylines, frightfully advanced public transportation sytems, internet every-fucking-where, and the new emergence of foreign nationals.

Lets talk about that today.

I muse to myself how my own country is constantly clawing foreign talents from countries around us, rather than turning inwards to fill the gaps formed within. There are, of course, very many soft moaning voices that begrudgingly accept the changing norms within the society.

Of course, being a country made and build solely by immigrants, we really can't have an anti-immigration stance (other than reasons resulting from lacking of resources!!).

A Singaporean blogger recently mused that while he was looking for funding/scholarships for graduate school in the National University of Singapore, there was none, or meagre to be found. Of 5 scholarships he found, only 1 accepted Singaporean applications. Very strange indeed.

I do suppose that must be because most Singaporeans are affluent enough to fund their own undergraduate and postgraduate studies, especially when they only have to pay local fees, which really are, in comparison with British standards, much lower, more affordable, and some may argue, more value for money.

Anyway, you don't commonly hear a Singaporean being given funding, we call it scholarships here, because those who get it, are usually fucking smart... in exams anyway. While in the UK, it is relatively easy to get "funded". Scholarships are for the fucking ridiculously smart, and bursaries are for the poor.

In comparison, most people I know in Britain (who are British Subjects) and are doing a postgraduate course of some kind, are usually funded. Being funded means you don't pay school fees, and you get a monthly stipend, of about £900 for masters students and £1000 for PhD students. This of course is only applicable to UK citizens (not even EU.. maybe free school fees for the EU-ites).

Being a foreign alien, the tough gets going for me once I graduate. I graduated with a 2:1 degree, not fucking excellant, not that great really (blame it on the debauchery and the mountains), but I did do really well in my transcripts, thesis, essays and crap, plus, I have contributions to published work, and individual research work that is floating about waiting for a solid idea to stick to and be published. Still, I haven't the opportunity to even get footing in both the academia and in the industry.

Blame it on my subject, studying a rather subjective economy based science such as Geology, provisions for foreign graduates are few and far between. Shell quotes "regional requirements", BP just gives a flat refusal, and other smaller companies politely quote the economic recession and lack of projects.

Applying for studentships are also just as painful, being foreign means having to have almost twice the amount of funding for foreign fees, which means a load of beaurocratic bullshit.

Its almost like saying, I'm not welcomed in Britain as a foreigner, and not welcomed in Singapore as a citizen. So what should I do?

I was reading this article on some nutjob that moved to America to do what he always wanted to (something to do with computers). He thought that giving up everything to do what you want to, is always worth the initial troubles and difficulty, and thing will look up once you jump on the right bandwagon.

Being in a rather tumultous posit at the moment, I feel raw when questioned why do I still want to return to Britain on a restrictive (yet at least I can work there in anything I want) visa, or even worse, return to Britain without anything waiting or not even a substantive plan.

Things would have been much much easier if I stayed in Singapore, studied Architecture, and graduated, and landed a job locally in some design firm, paid CPF, did reservist, bought a car, got married, had kids, retired, and died. Why did I have to be different?

As usual, there really isn't a why.

West Highland way in 5 days.

2009-08-15T22:22:00.013+01:00

The idea was borne out of sheer admiration for the highlands while I was on tour with my mother. The proposition was made through a text message, which followed an enthusiastic reply a couple of hours later.

The aim was simple, in theory. We had to cover 95 miles (132 km) in 5 days, we would camp in the wild, and on the odd day, stay in a wild bothy if lucky. There would be no facilities, no toilets, nothing. We will have to carry 5 days worth of food and snacks, and there is no giving up. Sounds easy enough when said.

After a couple of days of hasty planning and tent purchasing, we set off to our impending doom.

Driving up on Friday night to camp out in Milngavie was the right thing to do, it meant that we had a full day 1, and also we were well rested, instead of being flabbergasted from a reasonably boring 4 hour drive from Manchester.

Day 1: Milngavie to Balmaha (20 miles, 30km)

The Beginning.

Starting off at Milngavie seemed easy enough, the weather was pleasant, and the route was very flat by our standards! We easily blitzed through the first 12 miles or so, overtaking lazy tourists who hired a company to carry their rucksacks!! assholes. We were true hikers, carrying all our load with us, and living in the simplest possible way. There were hardly anyone who was doing it "like us" and it became a mission to befriend and root out those who were wild camping.

Closer to Drymen, the "normal" stop for "normal" people, we found that we were alone, apart from a triple of rather inadequate walkers who were ridiculously slow, and we never saw any of them for the rest of the trip, again. The reason why there wasn't anyone anymore was because no one was going to Balmaha, it was just us, crazy nutters, doing it in 5 days. Fucking mad.

The climb at the end of Balmaha up conic hill proved to be the killer. After climbing very many tall hills and mountains in Britain, that 185 metres seemed like HELL after about 16 miles of walking with full load. I swear, even Scafell and Pike via Eskdale seemed like a piece of piss afterwards.

View from Conic Hill

After a lot of moaning, we arrived at the bottom of Conic hill, and despite being overall short by 1 mile, we decided to camp as we had decidedly found a spot near water (a tap in a carpark), and it was relatively midge free as well.

Day 2: Balamaha to Inverarnan (21 miles)

We knew from the guide book that this was going to be a killer day. It was meant to be the hardest and most tiring day due to the convulations and undulations in the path. It was meant to be fucking true. To the ounce. The highest climb was 80m. I have never done anything harder in my life. That was my mantra throughout the 2nd day. There were serious doubts if we could even complete the walk, and at moments, the atmosphere was tense.

Loch Lomond

Despite saying that we were doing this for enjoyment, it became clear to the both of us that not meeting our goals were affecting our morale and moods very much. It was almost pointless and painful to do this walk. There was almost no saving grace other than the exceptional beauty of Loch Lomond. The only thing that kept me going was the friendship we had, and the beauty of the Loch. Of course, there was also the mini competition with the Frenchies, whom we outlasted (vive la angleterre!)

Towards the end of Day 2, it began to pour it down, and the route was becoming ridiculously hard, there were large boulders and tree roots to get over, and this took up alot of time and energy, at the end of the day we found that we were only doing 0.5 miles per half hour, and that was absymmal compared to our aim of 2.5 to 3 miles an hour! We were still 2 miles of short, excluding the 1 mile we failed to meet yesterday, in total, we were 3 miles short.

Duone Byrne

So we decided instead to stay the night at Duone Byrne Bothy, a common property hut with rudimentary sleeping facilities that was free for use for all walkers. The rest was good, and the company we met there, 2 glaswegian mates, were hilarious, and the Islay whisky did our bones some good.

As such, we arose on Day 3 feeling refreshed and once again, rearing to go.

Day 3: Inverarnan to Bridge of Orch (19 miles, ended up doing 22)
So, we set off at 0830, and walked very extremely briskly towards Inverarnan to catch up with the 3 miles lost over 2 days. We did it in an hour, used the Inverarnan campsite facilities to top up our waters, had a butty breakkfast, and went off towards Crianlarich.

View above Crianlarich

There were THOUSANDS of people at the campsite who were going on WHW. It was silly, there were so many people, and we actually have not seen any of them on the way before!! After poking around and asking a few questions here and there, we find that people weren't at all honest hikers per se. haha... i'm sucha fucking snob. But yes, they were doing WHW over 7 or 8 days, and were thus only doing 10 to 12 mile days, which was almost half of what we do, as such, we stop at different places, and thus we don't see them at all! Worse, they hire a company to carry their packs for them, so they only travel with day sacks, which is about 1/15th of the weight that we are carrying! Some even only started halfway! cheats!

No one else, was going to the Bridge of Orchy.

The day started with a lovely valley/woodland terrain toward Tyndrum, and the midges started becoming a nuisance everytime we stopped, as such, we always looked for a spot without midges before having a break.

View along the way to Bridge of Orchy

On our last 6 miles towards Bridge of Orchy, we were very sure that we would be able to do this, we would be able to meet our aim, and have a good nights rest! We agreed that at BOO, we would go to a campsite WITH facilities as a treat, and that would be a good morale booster. However, along the way, Frost discovered that there was NO campsite with facilities at BOO.

The views were stunning, this was at last, the proper highland scenery that we are so accustomed to through the media, photos, and previous experiences. Walking through the glen along the A road, and the highland railway was a stunning and spiritual experience.

However, in the last 1.5 miles, pain kicked in, 3 days straight of 20 ish mile walking had taken a toll on our feets. My feet and toes were swollen, and there was an unbearable pain originating from my ankles. It was agony. We knew that it was a combination of heavy packs and horrible roads that did this to us, but we knew had to do this, and complete what we set out to do.

Now, it wasn't just a sightseeing walking tour, but a mission, something to prove to myself. I could do it, I will do it, and I wanted to do it. It was like as if it was our own special way to worship and pay homage to the beautiful scenery that surrounded us. Every wood, hillock, mountain, corbett, munro, glen, corrie there was along the way. It was like mass for the walker. We will finish what we set off to complete.

Arriving at BOO was wonderful. We were anxious to set camp and go to rest, however, the midge situation at BOO was terrific. The midges were so thick it was literally difficult to breathe or to blink without one catching in our eye/mouth! After 20 mins of dallying with our tents, we decided to give up and pay £15 for a bunkhouse.

It was heaven. Never had a better night in my life, and never felt more comfortable.

Day 4: Bridge of Orchy to Kingshouse (14 miles)
Everyone on the WHW does this stretch this way. It wasn't going to be any different for us because we knew that it was dangerous to camp near Altna Feadh, at the opening of the Highland's 3 greatest glens. If the weather turned, we would be so screwed we would literally, DIE. So to be on the safe side, camp with everyone else by the Kinghouse inn!

Rannoch Moor. Boring killer.

The walk was a killer. 3 days of 20 miles each really took a toll on our feet and our souls. Everyone walked past us, the 90 year old german walker, the nice english couple who kept telling us to cheer up. They were all tourists, who hired pack carriers and stayed in BnBs, but hell, I wasn't about to listen to a bunch of people who had enough money to pay for BEDs!

Grub

Completing the walk was amazing, and we spent the evening in the pub, where we met a couple of kids who were on their first hiking trip (incidently, also their first multi-day). They hadn't a clue what they were doing, printed out instructions off the internet, and one was wearing plimsols! After a couple of hours of silly stories from them, we were tired of it all, and went to bed for an early start for our final day!

Day 5: Kingshouse to FORT WILLIAM (22 miles, but we have to camp at the only campsite at 20miles).

This is it, the final push. We were going to go through one of the most dramatic sceneries of the Scottish Highlands, Glen Coe and Lairrigmor. There was no screwing this one up.

We were relatively fresh, and managed to blitz through the first 9 miles easily, reaching Kinlochleven at 1pm ish, stopping for a 1 hour lunch break at the local coop.

Kingshouse

Starting again after lunch proved to be very difficult. A full tummy, and a big big big hill up past Kinlochleven was not at all morale boosting. To make matters worse, it started to chuck it down. Poo.

Anyway.. those bits weren't too bad because we actually remembered them. These were the areas that we spent 4 to 5 days studying for our 2nd Year Scotland field trip, and it was by all measure, a welcome familiarity.

Passing through the Old Military Road, we ended in Lairigmor, that big painful pass that took forever to walk, horrendously exposed to the elements, and not at all easy. It took us a good 6 hours to cut through the pass, and we were very unfortunately overtaken by a couple of lady non-breeders.

Despite the odds, the bad feet, the blisters and the painful swollen ankles, we had to get to the Glen Nevis campsite that night. We desperately wanted a shower, and of course, food.

The sky was getting ridiculously dark, and it was it even darker in the forest that surrounde us in the final mile, that was all that essential to burst out of in the light.

Finally, we made it, we emerged through the forest, and there it was, the bloody campsite, a mere 600 yds aay and there it was Ben Nevis, large, like a table, a big flat top rock, like a jarhead marine, framed by pink flowers. We were only 1.5 miles away from completion

Ben Nevis

Arriving at the campsite, we were greeted by the friendly staff, and of course, curious campers, and the concerned.. who were wondering where did we come from, and why were limping so badly.

The very next morning, we headed along the metal road as suggested by the campsite lady and hit jackpot less than 45 minutes later at the obelisk that marked the end of the walk. The elation, wasn't really there, it was overshadowed by the previous night's burst out of the eternal forest, and nice warm shower, but it was nevertheless a proud moment that marked a new age, and also, the end of the fatigue.

Lastly, I wouldn't suggest to anyone who wants to do the WHW to do it in 5 days. It depends on what you want to acheive. We did it in 5 days because Frost could not take that many days off work, and I needed to get on a flight to Istanbul on Friday. It turned out to be a massive challenge, so much more than what I had expected, and it was very very difficult.

The suggestion is, if you just want to enjoy the walk, and have a great touristy time, do it in 6 or 7 days, if you want to challenge yourself, and make it an amazing trip, work your calves and feet, and do it in 5. The pleasure of a challenge is always a big turn on.

Photos are all mine, quality is crap because i've got to smallerise it.

The clocks start ticking.

2009-08-05T15:06:00.002+01:00

In exactly 27 hours, the travel bug will kick alive. I'll be on my way back to manchester, in prep for my exciting big hike, and almost immediatly after that, on a plane to Istanbul, and 3 days after that, Singapore. Its going to be a very long 12 days of walking, travelling and flying. But its going to be ace.

This makes up for the uncertainty for the future, and the difficult road ahead.

I am in a dilemna. I just got another rejection from a job, with the British Antartic Survey. It was a crap job that I didn't really want, and plus, i'd have to relocate to cambridgeshire. which is boring, cave-less and flat. But I thought I should just apply for it anyway.

There are other things on the plate that are so much more tasty and interesting, like the Research job in MMU, and the PhD in Leicester, but I know that they are long shots, miracles in themselves, even though they are on the top of the list of jobs that I really want. I know I shouldn't feel sorry for myself that I didn't get the BAS job, because I have even better things to hope for and look forward to, the job was right at the bottom of the list!! but I still can't help feeling a little pooped out from having 1 too many rejection letters from utterly shit jobs that I think i'm overqualified for.

Like what someone from the geology department said to me; it'll come eventually, and you wouldn't know it when it does, but it'll come soon enough, and it'll all be alright.

Signs of trailing.

2009-07-27T00:31:00.002+01:00

I am a complete numbnut.

I thought that the application for BAS was due in on the 27th not the 26th. So when I saw that I had 10 minutes to complete it, I rushed through it. Like mad.

I usually use very detailed and careful wording highlighting my work, and experience in job applications. It might possibly come across as arrogant, and well, egoistical, or even fanatically self-indulgent, at best.

Shit. i'm so not getting that job.

shit.

Where are we now?

2009-07-17T00:35:00.002+01:00

In about 12 hours, I will file into a large hall, dressed in my scarlet robes and mortar board. I will receive that certificate that will be my stepping stone into the society.

There are thousands of us all over the country who have received this ritual of blessing from lofty instituitions all over Britain in the past 2 weeks. Robed in colours hue of wisdom and learning, we are immersed into the sanctity of what our school fees have afforded us.

This sanctity, brewed from 3 years of hard work, is more for some and less for others. But so much for me. Living away for 3 years, has been nothing short of an adventure momentous to none. I have seen, I have walked, I have eaten. I have touched and felt what I could have, and I could have it all.

I now stand at the edge of the cliff of life, once hand in hand with my scholarly comrades, now ready to let go, to jump, and to fall, or to soar. Which is it?

The jig of a head.

2009-06-25T22:05:00.002+01:00

Habits die hard. Very hard.

My room is almost completely empty now. With the exception of a good set of clothes and several books, I am all alone.

While looking at an event dated 1st July, I wanted (and needed) to know which day of the week that was. I instinctively jigged my head up towards the wall, where I used to have my planner hanging, but it isn't there anymore.

There aren't any posters on the wall, or books on the shelves. The lamps are gone, and so are the rugs. Spartan scenes of hardship stricken characters more often have a cheery hue than this.

Sun rises into this warp, a blank canvass of what one's life is. I can live with less, but why would I, when I can live with more.

The pandering traveller with a torn rucksack, his feet adorned by worn shoes, and his once youthful face as riddled with wrinkles from the sun as train lines crossing the soils of Britain. He has less, but he might have more.

Who is it that mandates, what is more or what is less, when it comes to something as simple as space, more is more and less is less.

Tragic.

2009-06-22T02:30:00.003+01:00

Its half 2. Just spent the last 4 ish hours in the sitting room with half the house, den and tom talking about uni life, work, uni, and the rubbish we used to get up to in first year.

Even though the conversation pretty much revolved around university and how it has affected us in the last 3 years, we failed to address how it changed us. Isn't a first class answer really.

Yet, through inference, we all know and can obviously see that these 3 years have dramatically changed us.

Without being pedantic or condescending, but being here in the UK, and mincing about with the mingers that I hang out/live with has completely changed the way I think, act and behave drastically. For better or for worse? I'd like to think its the former.

I was recently reacquainted with someone from days of old on facebook, and as I was looking through the photos posted on facebook, I could only think of 1 word; Tragic.

Looking through the photos, and reading those little commentaries of photos at the bottom, that was all I could think of; how tragic this was.

Here was a reasonably well educated person by Singapore's standards (by far surpassing average standards in the world), a teacher, and a mentor to many, still caught up in what was seemingly an activity brewed from 10s of years ago as a teenager, still unable to very much move on. Life did grow from whence it came, but it remains stagnant and plaid.

I know it sounds amazingly harsh, but 10 years ago, as a teenager, I definitely expected alot more from this person, and I expected the best, as much as it was expected of me.

Religion plays a big part in both our lives, but I now stop allowing religion to take over my rational thought. I allow myself to first be the geologist, before I even allow myself vaguely to be identified as a catholic, because I believe that a couple of old caucasian men should not determine how I interpret a set of specific texts for living my life, and doing my work.

Seeing somebody, whom I thought to be an intelligent and mature individual to immerse themselves that deeply in the religion such that it surrounds their every being brings to me the shock of remembering that once upon a time, I had probably have had the same set of christian utopic ideals.

I still believe in everything the Nissin creed decrees, and everything the Gospel has to tell us, but I find it difficult to find faith in that set of utopic ideals that protestants, or modern christians perpetuate in this good earth.

I don't want to talk about it anymore. Its making me feel dark. Dark, is the lies of men.

Can't believe we're at this big ugly junction.

2009-06-21T21:18:00.002+01:00

Biding time. Thats my occupation now. I am biding my time. Waiting. Waiting for what?

The perfect wind, the perfect sail, blue peter. That funded place in leeds, that job in MMU, that position as a mud logger, that contract in Australia, that PhD in Canberra. The Blue peter.

But no one knows when that elusive flag will be raised and the man-of-wars sail out to battle what will be the rest of my life, so now, I'm just sitting on my floor, biding my time. Slowly bleeding money and life away.

Patience.

Why I don't want to leave Britain.

2009-06-15T23:23:00.002+01:00

Life is made easier with you,
Through exams, parks and barbeques.
Log in, plugged in, turned up,
Tune in, surf it, play up.

I fucking love spotify. Can't imagine my life without it. That is the sole reason why I don't want to leave Britain!

I really shouldn't be here.

2009-06-05T14:29:00.002+01:00

I should be studying for my last exam. The last ever exam in a long long time. LAST. L A S T. I can't believe it.

Time flies. Its frightful. 3 years of taking the piss has passed. We've properly taken the piss in the last 3 years, forfeiting meals to get awfully drunk. Impromtu pub crawls from university to home that end up in someone else's house passed out on the floor at 3 am. And all that library-ness. Lets see... 3 FUCKING MONTHS OF 9 - 8PM (AT LEAST) LIBRARY LIFE, EVERYDAY MONDAY TO SUNDAY. thats 3rd year for you. January and February and November were no less than hellish.

IT took 3 years of training to get to this stage.. where you can chemically define the bowels of the earth, identify any igneous or sedimentary rock type at a whim, describe the geological history of an area just from a couple of fist sized rocks, list the principal stresses that act on a faulted region, and draw the finite strain ellipsoids for a deformed rock, oh yes, and for people like denise, pass out (without fail) in someone else's sitting room everytime we go out.

So, now. last exam. Not worried. 2 essays to write, one on the hypothesis of quaternary geomorph, and the other on quaternary dating techniques. covered erm. 1. oops.

scored a brilliant mark for the practical bit. thats thirty-something-ish percent of the module. MCQ is 20%, and the rest, 40%. all i've got to get is 25 out of 40 for my essays for a first class grade in this module. this is getting rather ridiculous.

Oh. but i do need to do well to cover the shit marks we're all going to get for that horrific sed and strat practical with seismics.

It was the worse exam since global tectonics last year. Almost like fishing for a needle in a hay stack set on fire, with a broken arm, with the BNP shooting at you, and prof rutter telling you dirty jokes.

what are we going to do next year is a question that keeps coming up, especially amid all the "you have not been selected", "we are not hiring", "you have a strong application, BUT", "WORLD DOOM".. not very encouraging.

2009-05-27T23:07:00.002+01:00

There are places that speak,
telling the stories of us and them
a village asleep loaded with dream
an oceann flicking its pages over the sand.
Eventually we reply,
a conversation of place and page over time,
inscribing the map so that each in turn,
might hold the line.

- - - - - -

The finals loom, not loom, they flood. They surround me, like creatures of dark mills, and cast shadows over my head. They are, indeed, dark days.

I was once told that having a degree meant that I had the world at my feet. I always believed it to be true. On the contrary, it seems as though, I now am at the feet of the world.

I scarcely believe it to be true that I have to now choose my life to what and where there are jobs. I cannot say, I wish to stay, because that wouldn't happen, and they would say nay.

Where will I be?

If you ever believed in God,

2009-04-19T22:11:00.003+01:00

You'd better thank him now, because if I were in a less obliging mood, I would have twatted your face with a mallet, no doubt.

This is what I hate the most about long trips away.

2009-04-18T21:29:00.002+01:00

I just returned from Spain, again. 3 weeks this time, not 9 like the last. I cannot get enough of that damned country. Of Spain's 9 Northern provinces, I have visited 8. Spent an amusingly long time in Catalunya and Cantabria, learnt the language, loved the people, caved the caves, and studied the rocks.

I bloody enjoy what I do. I don't think there is anything else that I want to do, in any other way. Prior to last summer, I never even been to Spain before, and well, in the past year, I've only spent 7 months away from that damned country.

On returning on each of my long trips, I find myself frustratingly disorientated. Returning to a country that drives on the right side of the road, pays more for eggs then alcohol, and has a curry for a national dish. Don't get my wrong, I love Britain. If there is anywhere I can freely choose to live, I'd live in Britain. the ol'Blighty is bloody amazing.

But each time I return on these long little ventures, I find myself disorientated not only from the amount of chores I have to do to sort my life out, the stacks of packing and washing, the following up work, and the sudden realisation that I am alone. The thing is, whenever I am out there doing something, I am always with someone, with a group of people whom I enjoy being with, and enjoy spending time with. I have a great time. Suddenly, coming back to britain, I am alone again.

The room that I got used to sharing with a big child-like buffoon is now a single. The ridiculous morning cuddles have been swapped with a cold end of the bed. The late night chats have evolved into MSN or Facebook messages. The late night drinks and general british styled debauchery have vanished. I am now alone. I don't like this very much.

I have to grapple with it, and let myself slide back into normality. But there is no normality for the student, no regimentalisation. No 9-5. More often then not, I do what I want, and when I want. I have to be self motivated to study, work and research. But suddenly living away from a group that I enjoy being part of is strangely difficult and painful. Change, is constant.

Now, there is a new meaning to settling down. It doesn't seem like such a bad idea afterall.

Not impressed.

2009-03-27T01:07:00.004Z

I had a visitor today.. someone who bought my caving wetsuit off me for a grandsum of thirty-something pounds, considering i got it for free, that was a great deal for me! haha.

And he was a mid-thirties caver with a very flashy car that ran on diesel (could hear the engine). He walked into the hallway while i ran up to my room to get the wetsuit. He looked around. He frowned. I was embarassed.

Basically. I apologised for the mess. Its fucking annoying. The house has been in a mess since the baby jebus was born. I refuse to clean it because it seems as though everytime I clean it, it takes 2 seconds for it to be messy again. I keep clearing the fucking leaflets on the floor, and people, with the exception of Joe, just fucking walk all over it. Am is not bothered now.

Well.. mates do come round quite a bit, and no one has yet said anything about the mess.. but i'm pretty sure alot of them were very well damn close to. I'm leaving the house on the sat morning for 3 weeks. someone better fucking take the initiative to do the cleaning!!!!!

In other news, I just found out that I will be in the amazing city of Leon in Spain for 2 days in Holy week.. copious amounts of alcohol will be consumed, and lots of fiestas and processions to attend!!! All courtesy of the Universidad de Manchester. woop.

Qu'il sont loin ces jour.

2009-03-13T00:42:00.002Z

Halle IS the best symphony orchestra ever.

Sir Mark Elder IS amazing. Haydn's Symphony No 48 was amazing. amazing.

I'm listening to prokofiev now, and sometimes I think that when he wrote sinfonia, prokofiev was thinking about the same things as I was. I don't know what the circumstances of the concerto was, but it sure sounds like one very fucked up mind thinking about 13479283759382754829 things at the speed of light.

I am addicted to Halle. oh dear.

and Mcvities ginger nuts too.

Lent, the time of challenges and temptations.

2009-02-25T01:36:00.002Z

So it has begun, and I have just cleared my fridge of all meat, or meat related produce that would for the next 40 days, bear injury to my relentless quest for self improvement.

I have given meat up for Lent, and Facebook, and money. Yes money.

It was a great ponderance that began more than a week ago, this whole Lent observance matter. I was a good deal persuaded to stay off the drink for the period, but reality got the better of me, and after all, gin and tonic, is my one weakness.

Facebook, is an absolute waste of time. In an apropros effort to make myself understand that there is life outside Facebook, I have disabled my account. It is for the better I assure myself. That society will not stop existing because of the lack of it, but society will flourish even better at the lack of a lingering programme that impedes me from going into society.

My bank account has been feeling very poorly after that great blow of which I do not wish to speak of. It was my silly-ness to begin with, and I have no one to blame but myself. I should have kept a closer eye on my accounts, especially when I am not working, and living most persistently in the corner of a library, without the facilities of a kitchen for 12 whole hours a day. It has indeed made me a most dull acquaintance to many. I need to re-acquaint myself with the importance of money.

Meat, is just a fanciful way of trying something new. I have not much emotions for pity for the animals reared to be butchered, but i do have sympathies for the purse which pays for the fresh meat.

The past 2 months have been a great pleasure to live through. Despite all the late nights, poor appetites, and disastrous meals, I feel that all that time living in a library had been to good use. Even if I did not acheive my expectations of an exceptionally good grade, I find it most worthwhile, because I have also spent that 2 months learning, and being productive. I have no regrets nor ill will towards the time I have spent most eagerly and engagingly in the matter of rocks.

However, on a certain matter that has been bugging me for the longest of time. I find it imperative to get it off my chest that people shouldn't, ever, recite sonnets from authors gone, especially those that have particularly my glowing affections. It is already rare enough to find one who understands what a sonnet is, what more one who rolls it off their tongue with such eloquence. It is a very dreadful matter, and I am determined to see myself through this.

A sonnet cannot cause such distress to a grown man like I. It musn't.

AAAAARGH. Rant post

2009-02-18T00:19:00.002Z

1) This is the second time something bad has happened to my dissertation. The work I did in uni today was gone. It wasn't saved. It is gone. All that fiddly diddly work with all the lovely diagrams. My dissertation is as it was this time last night. I am past feeling sad. I am past being upset. I am just, I am. I don't know what else to say. I really don't. I just have to trudge on. More fiddly diddly work I suppose.

2) I am very annoyed. Taking time out from my insane workload to help someone has gone utterly and entirely unappreciated. At the end of the 10 full man hours of brain picking and what nots has entirely gone to waste. I blame you for my poor palaeontology exam marks. I regret my naivity. Sometimes I am just stupid that way. Give me a rock and i'll steal you the moon, give me chocolate bar and I'll steal you the galaxy. Fuck it. I resolve never to speak to you again. You waste of space. Time to do some facebook spring cleaning!

One last recitation to remind me of my place on earth.

天降广大任于私人，比先劳其骨，饿其体肤，苦其心知。不到两个星期后，我将会重复我的自由，能以满足自己的幸福。

The final leg, the final sprint.

2009-02-17T18:10:00.003Z

Its 2 more weeks to dissertation hand in. Then I can stop holding my breath. I don't know if I am holding my breath for something to end, or for something to begin. I can't tell.

I just received a suprisingly low grade for an exam I thought I would seriously score really well in. I thought that after all the effort I've put in for that exam, I ought to have gotten a very high 1st class, but no. I just got a 2:1 and it wasn't that very good either. I was quite surprised. Well.. at least my essay for the module was one of the best! woop! I am so sure it whipped proper fossil ass.

Completing the work/diagrams for my dissertation really isn't that bad. I was very convinced that I was going to DIE this month. But no! I even managed to go caving on saturday, and take a half day off on friday. Quite pleased with how everything's turned out.. and everyone's comments on my map and other stuff has been rather ego-boosting.. other then Dr Brodie's joke comment on how my strat column looks like a layered plum cake. grrrrr...

But lets not get too conceited and just finish the race at a steady pace. Its going to be good. I know it.

Waking up punctually everyday and ensuring a good 8 to 12 hours of solid work everyday is NOT fun at all. Yesterday, after 9 hours of torture in school.. i could feel myself dying inside. When I got home, all i could do was paste 1 diagram into my report. 1. yes. cut and paste 1 bloody fricking diagram. That was how tired I was. Stupid structural geology took the mickey out of me.

Looking for jobs/phd isn't going too well. I've had a few rejections already (jobs) and phds can't confirm funding/place till much later in the year. One of the topics i'm really interested in is hydrothermal fluids affecting ores. I'm going to be pedantic and not geeky, and just explain its about how hot water affects metallic ores underground.

Its out in Australia, and I've been told that it will begin in January. Thats a long long way to go. 11 months... and nothings for certain at the moment, other then the whizz of the emails shooting back and forth between me and my potential supervisor about how much i like rocks, and i should be given copious amonts of money to study rocks. jebus.

I might look elsewhere and see if theres anything available as well.

It is very worrying, but still, we look into the darkness of futurity like a child after a rocket shooting into the cloudy sky, and gaze with wondering expectation, the rattle, and the explosion of sparks and light.

it almost feels as if i've lived a false dream.

2009-02-08T15:13:00.001Z

: (

On having boundless amounts of energy.

2009-02-07T15:51:00.002Z

The original plan today was to go to the library in the morning, and work on my dissertation. It would be quiet, and i would be free to run naked in the John Rylands Library because everyone else won't be nerdy enough to come in on a Saturday morning. I am desperate for that 1st class. Yes.

Then, I woke up at half 7. And felt utterly FILLED with physical energy. I had to do something. I couldn't sit to read. Mr Dickens was entertaining my mind but not my body! I HAD to do something. So I started cleaning. the house. again. and cooking.

I thought, why not go for a run! great idea.. But its fucking -2 outside and i'm a cold weather wuss. Fuck that. Lets go in the evening instead.

So now.. I'm sitting here.. without about a TONNE of work waiting for me. But I can't do a single shred of work because my body is absolutely going apesshit for the want of physical activity. Brill.

My drawer just collapsed. fucking shit table.

I need to get out there tmr. NEED is not an operative. It is a deep sunken desire so great it surpasses all other desires and temptations. I need the company of society.

hmmm...

2009-02-01T15:35:00.001Z

Posted a couple of months back...

"The first mighty surprise was when Barbara from Plymouth came to visit me at work! It was such a joy to see her after so long. There are just some kinds of people who just make you feel so good about everything and everybody, and they are the same kind of people who make this world feel great to live in, and yes, Barbara is one of them. Having her to visit at the beginning of the shift just made it all worthwhile."

I wonder hows Barbara now..

To my detriment.

2009-02-01T14:42:00.002Z

I hate not having exams. I really do. Everyone is too overhyped about NOT having exams. Whats so bad about exams? I spend the rest of the term (IN reality) chasing after stupid assignment deadlines, living like a fucking tramp eating shit meals just because I DONT have the time to cook, and spending HOURS and HOURS reading or doing things I never even thought i'd be signing up for. And in all reality, I spend HALF the week either running, caving, or being somewhere else other then Manchester.

Exams are great. I get to wake up early in the morning to make myself a lovely breakfast and lunch if I feel broke, then set off to the library at my own pace. There is no such thing as late, and no one will judge you for strolling in at 11am. I sit down, and listen to hours on end of Vaughan and Brahms and Elgar and Prokofiev. Then I get bored and go on facebook for 30 minutes, and listen to some muse, kasabian, depeche mode and keane. Carry on reading and working on my essays.

Best of all.. I get to read things that I really like! Other then lithospheric processes of course. But you do find joy in Lith Proc as well, the small bits on isotope geochemistry do get my juices going.

Palaeo was such a joy to study for, and so was Hydrogeology! I don't know why people moan. : (

Oh god. I sound like such a nerd.

I am going to dread February.

On Friday night, we went out, being a friday night, and also, the end of exams. And I swear the WHOLE damn university was out, except frost the loser and who knows who else. I got my usual gin and T, and to my suprise, there are people who actually don't like gin and T.

Doesn't make sense to me. Gin and T is like the holy grail of alcohols. it tastes good, smells good, looks like water, and gets you drunk in a an instant if you have 3 consecutive doubles.

Oh. We had Yeni Rake at that turk's house as well. That Turk = Denise. Who isn't really a turk turk, like kemal ataturk worshiping and all that sort. But its nice to refer her as That Hairy Turk Who Spent 3 Bloody Weeks With Me in The Library, Blue 3, Bay H.

Yes. And I forgot how foul Yeni Rake tasted. I did remember I never really liked Yeni Rake when I was out in KKTC (north cyprus), but I thought i'd have a glass for old times sake. Remind me next time. I fucking hate aniseeds.

I spent the whole of yesterday fucking polishing the house (namely the toilet and the kitchen) and it looks spank now. Yay. I made about a 100 pineapple tarts as well, and by the good lord, it tastes good.

Brought some to mass for Sr Joan this morning, and Fr Ray got us to present the offertory. T'was nice. Haven't had that much catholic-type activity in ages.

Tommorow, there wouldn't be time to spend in my Beloved Kingdom Blue 3 Bay H. But I shall return to lay claim to my throne in Blue 3 Bay H. For another month before I run amok everywhere in britain in march.