The Night that Changes Things

The penny has dropped. Something has clicked. The missing piece of the jigsaw has been found. I've seen the light. OK I think you get the drift now, and that last one was a bit too akin to religion and so I think I'll stop there. Last Thursday night (the 26th of January 2012 for those of you that like to take notes) I went out to the weekly pub quiz at my favourite watering hole in Edinburgh with friends. No there wasn't any wild boar or zebras there but there was a lot of alcohol and I had my fair share along with my companions. We drank deep into the night, mixing our poisons all the while before making our weary way home - via the late night pizza shop of course. This is not a story of drunken antics (of which there were quite a few) but more about what developed the next day, and the lasting effect that it should have on me.

Location, Location, Location

Don't you just love it when something comes up and hits you in the face? I'm obviously talking about a good idea but then again if you're into being punched then don't let me judge you - although I might just do that. I've been on the brink of writing this post for a while now but I've never quite known the right words to say. Admittedly I'm not actually sure if I yet know those words but I'm low on ideas for a voluminous post and it makes no sense for me to have it on my mind for much longer.

I should probably start by explaining the 'good idea' that came to me as I sat down to write this post a few minutes ago. It wasn't an urge to watch Kirsty and Phil (on everyone's favourite house buying show) that lead me to title this post up as I have but rather it was the subject of it. I've recently becoming very conscious of how I feel in different places, with 3 in particular jumping out at me - see how I enjoyed being struck by this idea now?

Back on the Horse

I must say straight away that the only reason that I'm writing this post tonight is because I was just watching Big Bang Theory - that is all. Well, OK I'll explain a bit further in depth in a second but I wasn't planning on writing tonight (shock horror!) because I'm pretty tired and I cut my hand on a broken glass this evening - can't say I'm enjoying this typing malarkey at the moment to be fair. I'll crack on with this smashing post though (might as well embrace this evening's clumsiness) and get back to what I was saying above. Raj said to Leonard that he needs to get 'back on the whores'. He was swiftly corrected by a bemused Howard whilst I chuckled myself into a post dinner stitch and decided that I might as well write about my first day back at big school.

The Week of Coffee, Chocolate and the Box-Set

If someone was ever to write a book about my life then the last few days would be referred to as the title of this post. After initially getting over the confusion as to why someone was writing my biography (and checking they were mentally sound) I would have to ensure that such names were used to describe the inane details of my life - I doubt if it would be an easy read. This last week of my holiday has been spent drinking my favourite brown coloured drink (closely followed by a cup of Bovril), eating more chocolate that I have in the last 5 years and watching the same amount of House as I usually do in these times of 'vacation'. If you read my post on Monday night then you were probably thinking afterwards just how much better you're holiday has been than mine. The truth is that it's actually not so bad at the other end of these fingers that type this sweet poetry to you this evening.

Satisfaction not Guaranteed

It was the longest holiday, it was the shortest holiday. It was the best holiday, it was the worst holiday. It the holiday of success, it was the holiday of failure. In short it was the holiday that I always thought that it was going to be - and there is still another week left of it. I actually feel a little bit daft opening my post like that because, as the more learned readers amongst you will have noticed, it is in the form of the opening to the Dickens book 'A Tale of Two Cities': a book that I've never read before but for a short period of time had memorised the famous opening. When I look back on little things like that from previous holidays (such a frivolous past-time only came a few summers ago) it makes me think how much time I've wasted and how much time I continue to waste as well. Even as I sit here, fighting through an almost palpable bowt of writer's block, I can't decide if I'm using my time well or not.

A New...Something

Blink and you'll miss it. Another year has come and gone and I've not even had a moment to take stock. Over the last few weeks I've tried to find a moment to myself so that I could have a proper look back over 2011 - my 2011. It was the first full calendar year that I've been at university. It was the first year when I went on holiday without my parents for the first time. It was a year of epic highs and of ultimate lows. I can delve into any day of my journal from the last 365 days and know that there was hardly a time in the year when my brain wasn't switched on - for better or for worse. But now I stand at the cusp of yet another year of my life and I'm not quiet sure what to make it it all. A couple of days ago I was excited about the prospect of the new year and what it might bring but, after a slightly flat start to 2012, I'm not 100% certain what to do next.