Outlook

How we see life affects the way we live it. Some are content with a commute to the dead-end office job and back just to earn the infrequent holiday. Some, although increasingly less and less in the UK, gain their satisfaction from farming a yield suitable to sustain only their family.

If you don't come into either of these categories, here is a possible reason why not:

am·bi·tion (Noun)

/æmˈbɪʃən/ Show Spelled[am-bish-uhn]

an earnest desire for some type of achievement or distinction, as power, honor, fame, or wealth, and the willingness to strive for its attainment:

Ambition is one of a few traits that I feel is essential to being a human being. Without it life would have no meaning. And meaning is vital to happiness. But where do we go from there?

It can't just be - Fine, well done, you have ambition. What's for dinner?

That just does not cut the mustard.

Elaboration is needed. So we've got that ambition = meaning.

But surely it's ambition + fulfilment of said ambition = meaning.

No?

Where do we draw the line then?

In having ambition and with the help of Hollywood, we set ourselves up for big goals, which end up in disappointment in the event that we don't succeed. With most ambitions, this is quite often. But this must be better than no ambition.

I find it happens mostly when listening to music. But people may experience it through other means. I find that music opens up that part of your mind that 'thinks' further than your immediate surroundings. But, like film and other media, these thoughts could just be a means of escape, that only the very fortunate or lucky achieve. As the definition said, ambition is directly related to acheivement. Serious ambition must result in equally serious achievement for the ambition to be satisfied.

The next question is, do we live for it? Is what we actually live for, to achieve? Or is that just a bonus to life?

These things just make me wonder, that's all...

Three days, two essays

This is the part where I am supposed to say: "Don't leave your work till the last minute."

Yeah, not happening.

First off, leaving work to the last minute is an essential part of a man's routine, as important as being able to tie a tie, or putting your washing just next to the basket for shits and gigs. It goes without question. Does it earn the title laddish? No. It's just that normal.

Laddish would be not doing the work and fucking your teacher for the grade instead. But that's a story for another time. Note: this does not count if your teacher has a cock

So, if you find yourself in the position I am currently in, where you have now one more day to give in two essays, with neither of them finished, there are a few steps that must be undertaken. Oh, and this doesnt mean an hour per essay. Im talking an acceptable A/B boundary standard.

Firstly, if you're in this position, give yourself a pat on the back. You are, without a doubt, a man. However, its not all great. You have a minimum amount of time to do a maximum amount of work. Just because you have a few days left, does not mean you can only do a few hours and say "screw it, im out of time." That is not an option. You've done the manly thing to leave it this late, now you have to sort it out like a man -> Get to it.

Secondly, be prepared to sacrifice all social hours, gaming hours, football hours and extra sleep if-i'm-unconscious-I-have-no-choice-but-to-not-do-the-work hours. Those days are over, until the deadline. If after the deadline passes and you still experience this sacrifice, seek medical help.

Thirdly, if it hasn't already been made clear, you need to spend the remaining time until the deadline doing the work. Yes, it sucks. But it's only temporary and it will be worth it. This means that you have to be absorbed by your desk, your laptop, your books, your red bulls, your energy tablets, whatever. I personally reckon that the energy shit is a joke but hey, do what you need to do to get those hours in. Either way, become one with the piece of work. Once fully absorbed, you will notice time fly, the quality of the essay much improve, and a feeling of great satisfaction. If this feeling could be combined with sex and COD, then you've conquered the world.

So get off your arse in and in your seat. Write that title, and do this thang. Until then, you as you know yourself, must cease to exist, while robot-self takes over.

But remember: if you start to enjoy it, you're no longer a man. You are in fact, a poooosaaaay

x

Significance

Ponder for a moment all the fictitious material you have been dealt, either by the television or other media, that has led you to believe that there may be worlds, maybe even universes, all just in the nail of your pinky. Then let your mind caress the possibility that if this is true, isn't it possible that you, your world, your universe, could also be a fraction of someone's fingernail, or something's.

Ignoring that, consider the more likely possibility that there is one single universe, spanning forever in all directions. And there is the probability that suns, stars and planets are being both created and ended at any moment, some young old and some young in the eyes of the universe.

Right, considered?

A quick bit of information: Humans live on Earth. Humans are only able to live on Earth due to the near impossible chance that the Earth resides, orbits, and spins in such a way that life is possible. Not too hot, not too cold. Not too dry, not too wet. This is known as the Goldilocks zone. Recently NASA found another planet that is also in such a possible zone: giving way to the possibility of life elsewhere. And thats only what we have found so far, there may be a few million more planets just like it. The point is we just don't know.

Okay, the planet and space stuff is heavy going. But now, considering all that, think about the possibility that people (if there are any) on other planets have a similar system to us: monarchies, education, politics, sport and so on. More likely, they don't. Also likely, they are more advanced than us both in terms of technology and mental capability. It may even be their wish that they want to destroy or inhabit our world, annihilating everything on it. Its dark, but its possible.

However, more Earth related, there are ongoing problems that it faces. To name a few: poverty, war, starvation, Apple Macs.

Putting this in perspective, i have just one question: Why the fuck do i have do read something as shit as Nathanial Hawthorne's "The Scarlet Letter" in which neither the writer nor the reader have a clue what's going on, yet it has inserted itself so gracefully into my university course, wasting my time, when one hundred and forty trillion miles away, there might actually be a nice beach that doesn't require a university degree to get the money to go to.

Just sayin'.

Thoughts and revelations

"Don't worry about him, he's a sleazeball."

These were the words used yesterday to describe a friend of mine who, since the start of uni, has perpetually been getting girls. Yes its meaningless kisses and fondles, but kisses and fondles nonetheless. This is the part where i am supposed to say how i pride myself in not being the "sleazeball" which my friend was so delicately labelled as. But in the words of Jamie Foxx, and excuse my french: Fuck. That. Shit. It's university and it's time to prove to myself that it can be done, and stylishly. The fussiness and friendliness ends now, and its capability's turn to take a stand. That's all i have to say about that.

More seriously, i have recently had doubts about my selected course at university. These doubts have been seeded from the fact that i have actually found my more minor, less credited, subsidiary module a helluva lot more interesting than my core module. Unfortunately for me, this subsidiary lasts 10 weeks, and my core lasts 4 years. Not only this, but as a consequence, it has led me to doubt my life choice: ihaveabsolutelynoideawhatiwanttodobutiknowiwantittobefunandmoneymaking. Is this even real? or is this just the blue pill to Neo's red one of reality? But that's just it, question after question enters into my mind, with no-one else being eligible to answer except yours truly. The responsibility of having to answer your own questions is one that creeps up on you uncomfortably. It also enlightens you to the fact that being spoonfed in all your previous years was something not something to "take advantage of" necessarily, but at least something to have relished.

As i write this Jamie cullum sings the words "twenty first century kid, surrounded by illusion and confuuuuuusion." He could not be more right, and university, being the bubble it is, is all about deciphering what is reality, what is the future, and what may just be a memory. Unfortunately, i have yet to make all the classifications, and confusion is apparent. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, i don't think, and is most likely a necessary stage in any young adult's life. But it for sure is an awkward state of mind. A wise friend once said to me that starting university is all about "holding onto the things we find normal, but at the same time letting the new stuff in to our lives." And i think the case is exactly that. Albeit easier said than done.

Bob Dylan wasn't wrong: the times they are a-changin'.

Crash and Burn

Firstly, let me just say that there is nothing like student clubbing. It is better than normal clubbing in so many ways. However, the normal principles still apply: the boys want to get with the girls, and vice versa, despite what the girls might say. Similarly, the same principle of life also applies in that the girls make the choice, and it is for them to approve a guy, not the other way round. As guys, this presents us with a difficult scenario in which we must somewhat resort to our primal animalistic instincts in wooing the girl. This is because, for the most part, conversation is impossible amid the heavy bass.

This results in a common phenomenon that pisses off the average bloke. I’m talking of course, about the infamous 6 foot and over hench bastard who wears a vest when everyone else is dressed up but still manages to steal everyone’s girl just by putting on a smile an waving his chest around. So in many ways, Darwin was wrong: we haven’t evolved. This brings me on to the title “Crash and burn.” Girls may seem nice in the afternoon, and even at pre-drinks, but the moment you walk into that club, it’s looking for a potential mate, not the last 4 hours of chirpse, that wins them over.

Watching your previously chirped up girl getting with another guy is a sting, but then when you try it with others and nothings happening, the night quickly changes for the worse, producing a spiralling “crash and burn” event in which no girl shows much interest, to the point where it feels like you have “little cunt” written on your head.

This can result in a number of outcomes, but there are two main ones. First, you could just say “fuck this” and go home. More likely however, is the second one, where drinking even more seems like a solution. Well, it’s not. But as hard as it is to call off the night as a dudd, it’s even harder to succeed when more inebriated than the previous few hours.

Result: no cash, no gash, horrendous hangover and a probable chunder.

1 step forward 2 steps back

Any 18 year old that decided to stay in school those extra two years has or is about to finish their final A2 exams. For those that have yet to finish, they will know the feeling that so closely matches the title of this post. The days move slowly, with nothing coming, apart from your next exam.

However, the exams are the only obstacles in the way of university, which - from a teenage boy's perspective - offers the promise of nights out, a private room, and not least of all, Girls. Skirt. Crumpet. Biscuit. Gash. Totty.

So, for those like me, who are still in that stage of revision, it's time to make a small but vitally important adjustment to the mindset. Do not think of revision as a chore, or something that is easily distracted from. In fact, view every exam as a ticket, every page of revision a cost of that ticket, and every ticket as an opening to a world of opportunity, and most of all: the opening of a girls legs.

A day in the life...

Stress... I can taste it on my tongue.

As the countdown to the final exams begins, tensions rise. Everywhere.

It starts with within the house, and we are engulfed in an "I've-decided-that-I'm-not-doing anything-for-anyone-and-I'm-not-kidding-this-time" Mother, who somehow, through all her perceived anger, manages to carry out a perfectly normal and even jubilant conversation over the phone, discussing the apparent hilarity that is passover, and loudly. Meanwhile, I'm trying to get on with a geography essay in the room next door.

But it doesn't end there, oh no. In fact you can choose from any of the following Mums. Whether it be the "i-told-the-bank-not-to-give-you-loans-because-you're-irresponsible" Mother, or the "No-you-can't-have-any-protein-shakes-because-you-are-not-putting-chemicals-into-your-body-and-if-I-find-it-I-will-bin-it" one. I could go on, but for the sake of saving everyone an unnecessary headache, I won't.

Nor will I make you endure reading about the countless hours spent helping my lovely but seemingly technologically illiterate Grandfather, who has yet to work out a mobile phone text cannot be answered by ear, and accusing the phone of being a "bloody thing" will not help either.

I'm also not going to tell you about how my start to the easter holidays has, for once, been productive workwise. And despite years and years of being yelled at "to get down to it early," my apparent new and improved work ethic has only resulted in one thing: a messy room. And as my Mum can tell you: "if it is'nt tidied up by the time I get home from work the computer is getting unplugged and I am taking the screen away." And these are the days we are supposed to miss when we are older?

It doesn't end there. A brief background to my life outside of the house would encompass only three things: the gym, school and my part-time job as a kid-carer. The gym is there to blow off steam. The school is there to raise bad cholesterol levels early, and the third one is to add to the last, just in case my Autonomic Nervous System isn't already keeping itself busy.

School is there to feed my parents less-than-average reports which say that "I have potential," or that "I could do more" or, on a really bad day: "James only does the bare minimum." So in order to combat this, I take it upon myself to do homework properly, set out a revision timetable (even honour it, for now) and make sure i am home in time to get ready for work and be straight out again to look after the kids, who surprisingly, have left over bouts of energy from colouring in and eating sugary treats. Once that's done, home for dinner, maybe even a shower. God forbid i turn the television on. It won't even be then that i get shunned for it. No, weeks later my dad will announce, at a public event, such as a family gathering, or a friends dinner party, that he "hasn't come home one time this month to see me doing my schoolwork." This results in an awkward silence among the guests. What can i do? Laugh it off? No, schools a joke to me then is'nt it? The only other option is to sit there and persuade my Dad otherwise, along with the rest of the people sitting at that table. Either way, I'm the fool. This will happen maybe once a month. Think menstrual pains are bad ladies? Try out this infradian rhythm: a psychological paternal beat-down.

So, to conclude.

Doing badly at school = got to do better
Doing well at school = got to clean room
Doing well at school + a clean room = no free time.
Doing well at school + a clean room + no free time = the product of the Public School System that every parent consciously says they want, but subconsciously realises it's for the worst.

Thanks a bunch Mum and Dad.