Malicious Bug Devours Writer’s Memories!

Disaster struck earlier today in a quiet South Shields flat as a young aspiring writer was subject to what can only be described as an unthinkable incident. After a high precision military operation went horribly wrong, “The Mallen Streak” blogger lost 3 weeks of notes from his mobile phone. Now suffering from temporary amnesia, his memories are slowly returning as he begins to write once more in an attempt to salvage some of his absent thoughts and ideas.

After countless months of being lazy and not hunting down the installation disk for his mobile phone/PDA, he finally decided to install it and backup his junk. Having installed the program a couple of days ago, today was going to be the routine, mundane and simple task of plugging his phone in to the USB BBQ-C3PO-type thingy mebob and everything else would take care of itself. So far, so simple. Alas finally everything is backed up and not just his files but his contacts, calendar and tasks too. The task system is imperative to his well-being and serves as his to-do list in addition to his mini diary of anything from brief thoughts and ideas to the beginning of far-from-award-winning sketches. Unfortunately that’s all it serves as, he still has to make his own coffee.

Without even thinking, he casually opens Outlook to begin viewing tasks much to his relief that everything is safe and sound as it should be. The first viewing was to be last month’s compilation. As he perused the content, he made a couple of minor changes, removed a large section of blank text and hit the save and close button. Simple. As it turned out, it was too simple. As you probably already guessed, a message was sent down to Houston about there being a problem. There was an error message about trunks or something, that was basically saying to him “You’re screwed pal, I deleted half your writing just for a laugh”. Well, you can imagine he wasn’t amused by its satanic sense of humour.

He decided to do what most writers would probably do in a situation like this. He moaned and cursed for a couple of hours, trying to contain his unbearable dismay and anger at losing work before generally accepting the fate of the last three weeks of notes. Then he sat down and began to write, expressing his pain and anguish of losing so many words, thoughts and memories that he will try his best to recapture. People often use words frivolously, without meaning or sense of purpose, but for a writer they are the essence of life and creativity. OK so that may sound a little over-dramatic but I’m sure you get the point.

In the immortal words of, erm, Boyzone, of all people, ‘it’s only words’…there’s always more words waiting around the corner, you just have to know the right part of pavement to trip over to find them…

The Write Stuff or the WoW Factor?

I didn’t feel like writing this evening. My troubled mind was fraught with worry of my present situation and of anticipation of the uncertain future that faces me. Presently the time seems to dissolve with each tick of my wall clock, like an aspirin into a half empty glass of water. The nights are becoming lonelier again as the movies finish sooner and the silence dawns earlier. There is always the possibility of course of engaging in another movie. There is always another movie. Similarly I could endure some light hearted music to pierce the din inside my quiet, somewhat contrived, little box. While both are worthy adversaries against the silence, they fall short of excuses when trying to detach me from the solemn mood that often relentlessly captivates me.

I’ve been strong willed today by fighting temptations of detrimental actions and not giving in as I would have previously done. After successfully juggling a couple of bills this month I found myself in a position today, to renew my subscription for World of Warcraft for September if I really desired it. It’s been one and a half weeks since I last played and have survived two consecutive weekends without it. In my mind I’d suggested maybe I could reward myself if I completed a few more tasks I had on my paperless list, though in truth, if I was able to play then it would probably consume all of my time. During the last week of August when my subscription was drawing to a close, my attention to the game was already waning and it’s typical of human nature to want something just because it’s not there and so true that ‘you don’t miss it until it’s gone’.

Having the luxury of WoW would be detrimental to my writing too because the interaction with friends in the online world would partly alleviate the silence and would consume my attention completely and without prejudice. This is a big reason for me not to re-join that world. Many times have I been through that gate and I know what lies beyond those monstrously towering imaginary walls of doom. Maybe I’d survive a few more weeks of addiction before the boredom once again threatens my weakened mind into submission. I feel it would be a great risk, in my present disposition, to undertake the challenge to discipline and condition myself to play the game in only short quantities, restricted to certain times of the day and not consistently for several hours without submission.

Could it finally be time to embrace the solitude and silence of nights sitting behind my laptop in order to pursue my writing dreams? It is after all, typical behaviour and perhaps the makings of a writer…

Calm after the Storm

It was a stormy, turbulent night by the coast. Torrential weeping from a sullen night’s sky, supplemented by the deep roaring sound of thunder created a heavy atmosphere and hazardous conditions for those unfortunate to be outside.

This morning was a completely different story, a brand new day. The sun was attempting to rise in its beautiful, oceanic blue sky, after what had been a violently disruptive night, like a bird trying to fly home after a damaged wing has healed. It was in such contrast to the conditions that presented themselves the night before as I recalled the vigorous roaring that had resounded in stereo throughout my flat just hours earlier. There was the occasional flash piercing the blackness of the night as though a light bulb had just blown. The lightning wrapped itself neatly around the sky for a split second before dispersing rapidly once more into the darkness, from whence it came.

In quiet contemplation my thoughts led me to the kitchen, then to the bedroom, as the setting for my first morning writing as both rooms are north facing, looking out at the endless sea and have the luxury on such a morning, of being embellished by the sun. Unfortunately on what was actually a slightly frosty morning, the idea was abolished because it was a mere corner of the window ledge that has illuminated by the sun’s warm rays.

Looking down out of my window I caught a glimpse of slight frosting on the cars below.
“This is it” I thought, “the first day of winter”. Though it’s only the first day of September it feels like the same thing. For years it seems around this time of the year I sense the switch has been flipped to trigger the season change. Here lies the point of no return. There will inevitably be some fine days, but it is ultimately the start of the cold season. A brief autumn followed by a long cold winter before returning to a fresh springtime that is a considerable amount of time away. It feels endless. While I do love the glistening of snow and the excitement of the Christmas season, the cold doesn’t agree with me at all. It’s no complaint really since I don’t like the cold much either! Why should we get along? I like nice warm sunny days as opposed to wrapping up like the Michelin man on an Antarctic expedition.

For now at least I see blue skies and sunshine…

Kidspeak – Are You Weed as a Pump?

Kids really do say the funniest things don't they? It's so refreshing and exciting to see the creative minds working at young ages and it's easy to see the potential of children to become very intelligent and creative people.

From my childhood I recall vividly that I was incredibly disdainful of bad language. While I was growing up I found myself surrounded by people using violent or foul language. They would use such obscenities habitually and viewed it a necessity to their natural dialogue. Throughout secondary school I inadvertently became renowned for my proper use of language and my 'inability' to swear. My best friend found this so unusual and amusing that he would often try to catch me out. He endured many failed attempts trying to provoke me into dropping my guard and letting a foul word slip out. I never caved. At about aged 16 I started being a little more frivolous with my language and allowed the occasional swear word into my conversation.

This dislike of swearing and cursing has carried forward into my adult life and I still usually refrain from using bad language whenever possible. Even now I often replace words with random alternatives, for example, “Pair o’ socks” said fast enough creates the illusion of its more abusive counterpart. Whilst watching The Man I was quite bemused by the creative method used in attempting to reduce the swearing of Samuel L Jackson’s character in front of his son, in order to set a better example. By adding an additional ending to the ‘F word’ he alternatively shouted “Fu-crying out loud”. Brilliant!

There are a few incidents I recall from growing up when I swore without realising it. Such things happen as a child. I really would go out of my way to not use foul language. I once rephrased my brother's description of his alcoholic state from the commonplace "pissed as a fart". So on a final note, I ask, “have you ever been ‘weed as a pump’". Alas the mind of the child prevails!