Social Awkwardness, let me count the ways I hate you.

So yeah, basically as I'm leaving College we are having this big leaving do at this hotel/restaurant thing (Just to point out all that's mentioned below is not simply for me leaving but for the whole year) and some students organised it and it sounds amazing. But, I have one issue which is this, we are having an after-party held and 'Lola-lo's' a club in Norwich which is actually awesome, but I can't help feeling slightly worried. For several reasons, I mean first we're having a BBQ the hotel/restaurant place, and don't get me wrong I love BBQ, it's in my top ten, I watch Man vs. Food and I start salivating, but I mean there is no way in hell that I would ever be able to eat BBQ smartly, I'm wearing trousers that aren't jeans for the first time in years for goodness sake. 

So I'm nervous on that front, girls are lucky, I mean a girl that can get stuck into some ribs something like that, that's hot (There are limits but for the sake of the point). I mean good for them y'know but it's impossible for a guy to be sexy and eat ribs, I know I've tried it, I've looked at it from every angle, I mean without sauce, Or maybe just dipping sauce but when sauce is draped all over them you wouldn't look too out of place on the set of The Walking Dead. I mean who knows maybe I just shouldn't have ribs...

Anyway the next worry is clothing, now as mentioned previously it's a no jeans affair but that ruins my plan. My plan was to go stand-up comedy on everyone. Y'know the classic jeans with a t-shirt with a usually titillating slogan on the front but with the very important afterthought of a jacket. It says 'I can be formal, but I'm also down to party.'
But no. So I have to go with the old smart trousers and shirt thing. Not really sure what that means anymore, but basically I have very few shirts to wear so my Mother, who while has the best intentions, offered to give me some of my step-dad's old shirts. Now I can get away with this age 13 maybe, sort of at the age when shirts only come out for two things. Weddings/Funerals. 
Point is I would rather not turn up looking like I've just come from a pastaille shirts convention (No offense to pastaille shirts you have many great shades). 

This is the last dress point. Now, shoes. I'm not going to lie all my clubbing experience to date has come from The Inbetweeners, I find them to give fairly accurate representations of what not to do and the re-percussions. But still the whole trainers thing? Is it real? are they really that strict on shoes? I can't just ask people because it will become obvious, so I've been trying to go nonchalant like "So, hey, I mean who doesn't know what kind of shoes to wear at a club right?" (For the voice think Carlton Banks mingling with his father's colleagues).

Either way I'm going with the trainers, they're mostly black. Though my Mother did suggest my Doc Martins which although I'm not an extra from This Is England, did fit the criteria for looks, being all black, but picture this. I decide on one of the rare occasions I may choose to have an alcoholic beverage that I want to throw some shapes on the dance floor, but my 2 inch soled size 14 boots come crashing down on some dainty footed 5 foot 4 girl's high heels, she goes down like a shot, probably nerve damage, anyway, there is a scream and everyone looks so I bid a hasty retreat but then I step on more people's feet and one by one they go down screaming while I leave a path of destruction in my wake. It's like that scene from Piranha when one by one men, women and children scream out in pain as they are bitten. Think of these boots as prehistoric thought-to-be-extinct man-eating fish.

Lastly behaviour. Now this will be my first time...clubbing. I'm not going to lie I'm worried, I don't know the etiquette, do you give a 'sup' nod to the bouncer? Do you have to tip him if you look like a ruffian? Do you make conversation with them while in the queue? Now, you're in the club, when you go to the bar, do you have to wait to be served, yell or is it just going 'Changing Places' Wall Street Stock Exchange on everyones asses? Now say you're in the club, you start talking to a stranger which I've heard is mandatory. Say it's a girl, because it's loud, how close can you put your face next to hers before it's called 'breathing down their neck' like in that crime, horror book you read that one time. 
All these question far too little an amount of answers. I just wish I hadn't chosen my first time to be be with something so serious, should have done it with something that doesn't matter first but no I had to go and wait so it would be special, y'know the real thing. (I am still talking about clubbing by the way). I just don't want to be that guy who was so pumped that he accidentally formed what he believed was a dance circle which was actually a circle of shame. 
But I also don't want to be the lurker. Y'know the guy wearing all shades of grey and sits in the corner with what is an oddly 'fruity-for-his-dress-sense' Pina Colada, sucking through my straw and staring at women.

Still could just stay home and eat those ribs in the fridge. Ribs are good, ribs will never judge me for my dancing...

Living Situations and Such.

As many of my friends know I have this fairly outlandish fantasy of moving to London and making a name for myself in the media industry. One of the trickiest bits of this was the timing, the idea is to get an apprenticeship at the same time as getting a flat or a shared house. 


But this is a problem because the likelihood of being able to find either of those two things with timings that matched up that were in my price range etc. would be so very very unlikely. So I'm faced with the choice, do I find a place to stay knowing that I won't be able to afford it and have a small heart attack every time someone asks me what I do for a living?


Or do I find work and hope that it is an office full of jock types who actually have an initiation (Side-note, I was halfway having to Google the words "Tests to pass before you can get into a club" before remembering the right word) that you must sleep in the office every night of the week for two months before you can live in your own place. I realise that this is very Tom Hanks in The Terminal-esque and one could only hope that Catherine Zeta-Jones is the 'wily' fox who comes in and breaks her high heel on my (at this point imaginary) work-desk. Plus Stanley Tucci as my boss would be awesome...
But still through some weird twist of fate this actually seems like my best option at this point. 


Still I have figured out tactics for when I do come to 'Room-mate' interviews. As apparently an apprentice's salary won't cover the monthly costs of a top floor apartment with balcony and Feng Shui indoor Koi pond, plus apparently hiring Emma Stone as your maid costs extra. Shame. As a 'for-instance' I shall tell you of the group of people already in a shared house who put up an ad. But! It was all caps. The entire ad, I'm not sure if one scary individual specifically wanted this or if it was group decision. Either way I'm not sure I could live in such a place where caps lock was thrown about as if it were normal conversation. But I guess if I was going to have to apply I would dress up like one of those characters from that loathsome 'Party Rock Anthem' video. Maybe come in with my Dre. Beats around my neck but still pumping out music loud enough for everyone to hear. 


Another example, an ad stating that they were all massive Harry Potter fans. Easy. 
"So may we see a reference?"
"Sure."  


I then place on the table all 7 of my Harry Potter books which are dog-eared and worn for the fact that "I just can't seem to put them down!" 
Insert Smiley Face.
Also I then place my Harry Potter Set containing all 8 films, totalling 17 DVDs in total, all presented in a rather smart steelbook casing. 


I realise I am coming off as a douche at the moment so let me just mention that I am not without my own faults. I mean I talk. A lot. Too much. I'm the type off guy who tries to see off awkward moments by saying "Well, that was awkward". Also I am up to the wee hours of the morning most days finding weird and crazy stuff on YouTube. 


Exhibit A
Exhibit B


So really this post could be plead for help. If you want someone to live with, with all of the said above 'qualities' then please help a guy out. Or maybe it will just be the one person from Germany who has read this blog who could help me out. Who knows..?

Exams and Loss. But mainly Exams.

So yesterday was the dreaded "hopefully-last-ever-but-we-all-know-how-these-things-turn-out-anyway" exam. It wasn't awful, it wasn't the end of the world, but then again Rocky 5 wasn't the end of the world but it was still pretty damn awful.

I mean for the amount of revision I did it went okay, it's basically three essays in two hours,  two 25 markers and a 50 mark. I would say that the 50 and one of the 25's went okay.
But this is the bit that everyone was worried about, in one of the essays there are 5 possible different topic to write about, now they are genre, narrative, representation, audience and media language. Basically we were okay with all of them except media language. As long as that didn't come up we were pretty much golden. All that had to happen was for media language NOT TO COME UP. I mean it was a 1 in six chance that it would. That's really small right?

So when I turned over the page to see that media language was there I had to stop my self from laughing from all of the audible groans in the room and and the shaking of people's heads. Now I had a plan to stop this from being a problem for me, so I finished to two easier parts of the paper and went onto the troublesome bit. Now this plan is built from my annoying habit of needing everyone to like me. In this case this includes the examiner. So if I do well on the first two sections he/she is thinking "Yeah great, this guy knows his stuff, can't wait to see what he's written on the media language section."  So I begin writing a fairly ambiguous intro that could be applied to anything "Media Language is especially associated with my story because of my content etc." and then I fake having run out of time. Examiner still thinks I'm clever, just a bit slow on the wrting, and I don't have to show them my lack of knowledge, problem solved.

Now sadly this did involve me sitting in the exam room for about 20 minutes doing nothing but I was able to observe the world around me. I could faintly make out the two invigilators game of hangman as they held it before the bright window.

I could see that the two people in front of me had written only half a page more, putting my mind at ease. Lastly was the sound of drilling from downstairs (Who honestly decides that during the exam period is the best time to put up that picture of the college as it is absolutely essential?!) although at first it just sounded like an exceptionally loud phone vibrating which put everyone into a state of shock causing people to check their pockets for the 34th time that day. Either way none of this compares to the fact that I avoided getting rained on, on the way home.

Lastly I would just like to mention the loss that I suffered yesterday. Loss is all something that we have to cope with and I just hope for your sakes that this never happens to you but yesterday Friday 15th of June 2012, at at around 1pm. My chair broke.

Now this was no ordinary chair. It was black, spinny, went up and down and leant back. Just a fluffy white cat and I could have had mind battle with Sean Connery. I had had this chair in the family for about 3 years. I had grown seriously attached to it but we all know that you only start naming furniture after you have had it 5 years...right? No-one expected it, it was completely out the blue. I was just sitting there and the back snapped off, so I was left with a padded stool for which I refused to suffer the indignation of.

Now anyway I have this old red one that feels about 90 years old, and yes it spins but it doesn't lean, and it really hurts my back sitting in the correct posture all day. It has to be bad for you...

Anyway this chair I woud compare to what I imagine a nerdy one night stand is for a girl. I mean he's eager that's for sure and he does get the job done but he only tries hard because he is mainly just grateful for the attention, he is skinny and uncomfortable, and it's awkward later on when you get back-ache.

The point is I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to last before my parents walk in and find me curled up on the floor in the foetal position with my laptop on its side and me begging for mercy and lumbar support!

Not to mention that the colour totally clashes with my walls (Insert Lawrence Llewelyn Bowen voice).

Procrastination in the fun place & Smoking for power.

I have an exam tomorrow, in fact the second of my already low number of two exams. It's Media Studies, and it should be great as it's the field I want to go into when I'm older etc.


So why is it that I simply cannot do anything other than procrastinate? Suddenly everything has become so much more interesting, the junk mail that came with my Due Date DVD today (don't judge me, just replacing a friends copy), the fact that I have learned to make and made around 60 origami cranes in one day, even the bright green glint off of my Apfelnektar box (which is my rather delicious Lidl based apple juice substitute) catches my eye. So many things have become interesting and new that I need to study them each in great detail before I can even think of moving back to the possibility of work.


I think this is why people smoke. They need something to do with their hands which is not only a welcome distraction but also allows them to carry on with said work. A prime example, any old style cops show or movie. They are always smoking. Look at Riggs and Murtaugh, Riggs is constantly puffing away but they get the job done in 1+2+3. Lethal Weapon 4 **Spoilers** 
Riggs gives up the cigarettes and the mullet and they both almost get killed by Jet Li. Coincidence? Of course not.


That is why a cigar is always used as a sign of power, stereotypically within the Mafia. Cigarettes are for people who need a distraction, who need an escape from the hustle and bustle of their incredibly busy lives as teachers for example, I have had experience in that being one of most stressful jobs. But Al Capone comes up to you with a big fat cuban number in his mouth? You know he doesn't need a distraction. He has so little to worry about and do that he can focus all of his energy on one thing. And that leaves Costner quaking in his boots, plus those bad boys last a long time! So he's got all day to look after it, and he can because he hasn't a care in the world. 


So, there you go , procrastination can come in the form of anything. Even this Blog post. Big procrastination. Now the only thing I have to look forward to is planning what I will do after after the exam. Probably a very strong drink. Tea without milk? 


No I'm not some kind of monster... 

Physiotherapy.

For the people of the world who I haven't told yet (Which is very few it seems). I broke my wrist two months ago. I wish I could say that it was a large brawl in which I was defending a damsel's honour or maybe stopping a mugging but no I fell off my bicycle. 
It wasn't even an impressive crash, it was on a 2 mile long stretch of road for which you can see every car within an 800 metre radius and I didn't hit anything. I simply just fell off. I could weave tales of worn out gear cogs etc. but these have always gotten bad responses previously. 
Anyway after a stay in the hospital, an operation, two metal plates, a lifetime of setting off airport metal detectors and some of the most uncomfortable paper pants you can imagine I was sent home with regular sessions of physio to come. 


As I arrived to my first session I was greeted with an attractive South-African physiotherapist calling out my name which seemed to bring out an odd sense of lusting in me. 
I'm not sure what it was, maybe it was the was that she called my name and her being attractive. The idea that she wanted to see ME, out of all of the arthritis sufferers in the waiting room.
I mean it's not the same as with a girlfriend, mainly because she was getting paid to do it and that succeeds without fail to dredge to magic out of the moment. Then again it might boil down to the fact that she already had her own nurses outfit. 


Through the coming weeks I grew slightly more attracted to her up to a point in which delusions of the then 17 year old me managing to simply whisk the 20-something off of her feet within 4, 15 minute session every 4 weeks were coming out. 


When I have problems like these I talk to my friend Molly. She's good because she occasionally finds me amusing when I tell her stories such as these. She was very supportive and suggested the completely  ridiculous notions of asking her out for a drink. I realise now that this was the rational decision but by the time came to be discharged due to my annoyingly fast healing wrist I had nothing. So as it came time to say goodbye I reached deep down into myself looking for something witty but not ridiculous and would maybe put me in a stance to seem like a possible love interest, and what I came out with? 


"Should I just go then?" I sounds more callous and uncaring than it did in real life, I was actually confused as to what to do. I wasn't sure as to wether wait for the wheelchair in which I see people pushed out of hospitals etc. But then again most of my hospital experience does come from Scrubs and House M.D. 


Maybe I should just try and bash my wrist again and then have another 10 weeks with her. Then again it would be nice to meet women without the need to cause physical damage to my body to do so...

First Post...

Forgive me for being tentative but I'm not the most skilled and qualified person to talk to people straight off the bat but luckily I've found a way of talking to people without have to worry what they're thinking. This is it. It's basically just going to be my thoughts which I would like to transfer across when other people to do so aren't around, or it's too wet to bike to see them. Good luck...