Two Years and Five Months

That's how long it has been since I have blogged on this blog. Bloggety, blog; blog.

"Why now?! Why have you tortured us for two years and five months, only to once again spew upon us the ramblings of the crazed man that you have surely become?" I hear you so avidly question.

The truth is this, dear readers and mindless internet trolls. I got busy. And I don't mean like, busééee, I mean genuine, down to Earth, pen on paper, eye to eyepiece, ears to headphones, fingers to mouse and keyboard busy. In my third year I even kept a diary. I know. Who even uses diaries any more?

I do. I use a diary. They're bloody useful.

So I thought maybe this re-introductory post could detail what exactly I've been doing with myself for the last two years and five months, but I could just witter on about nonsense, and you'll get bored and doze off and I won't know or really care because I'm over here and you're over there.

Oh go on then, you've twisted my arm. You've given me the most oriental of skin irritations. I shall tell you what I have been doing for the last two years and five months.

The last time I wrote anything at all on this here was when I was deep in the cesspit of editing together the epic Granite Moths saga, which still isn't finished by the way. That was in my second-year, and I remember the house being rather large and rather cold. The rest of that year consisted of co-running Demon TV mainly, probably some course work here and there and generally having a ruddy good time. I made a lot of friends in a lot of places and had probably the most fun I've had on set to date, making my first Demon Media Awards opening video. It was a classic. It'll go down in history. If anyone from Demon TV still remembers it. They probably don't.

God, you know when your glasses are just so fucking filthy?, and they just won't clean. It's bloody annoying. I'm getting real life lens flares all over the gaff.

Some of my more astute readers may have noted that I used a comma there after a question mark. I think that should be a thing. Because sometimes, you ask a question, but then you add something to the rest of the sentence. The second clause may be in relation to the question, but in itself is not directly a question, as I sort of demonstrated above. It wasn't the best example, as the conjoining clause could very well have been part of the question, and a comma wouldn't normally have suited that scenario, but it's for the good of art, god damnit!

Uhh. Tangent.

Hypotenuse.

Adjacent.

Third year! Man, what a year. Probably the most stressed and sleep deprived I have ever been. I distinctly remember that the first term was probably my most enjoyable experience at uni, and I also remember that at the Demon Media Christmas meal that year, it was the first ever time that I really got Christmas. As some of my devoted readers, viewers or stalkers will tell you, I hate Christmas, largely because of my broken and dysfunctioning family, who I despised for my entire childhood.

I digress. That first term was loads of fun, but I'd also taken on the burden of being a third year, and also being the Station Manager of Demon TV, so by Christmas time I was bloody knackered. My exact thoughts were, "Damn, this term has been so busy, but it'll be alright, second term is never that bad." I was delusional, clearly. Second term on De Montfort campus is the craziest, silliest and hand-ins time of year. To name a few, we did a 30 hour TV/radio broadcast for charity, I ran in an election that I didn't win, had a weekend in Amsterdam immediately afterwards to be immediately followed by Varsity, the busiest two weeks on the Demon TV calendar. And in this time, I somehow needed to film, edit and write a tech project, make tonnes of videos and whatever other coursework I can't remember. Needless to say, all of my coursework was done in the very last minute.

And then my Uncle died. I haven't really described what my Great Uncle means to me. Growing up, as many of you know, I lost my mother, which of course made my Dad an intolerable asshole (using a child's perspective there, I have tonnes of respect for the bloke now). And when I say intolerable, I would mean he was distance and blah blah you didn't come here to hear about this junk. Essentially, my Uncle Bob became my role model. The man I looked up to. His death tore me apart. Right at dissertation hand-in.

I broke. I broke more than I have in a very long while. It took ages to get back from that one.

Still, summer soon rolled around and I went back to work at Wicksteed Park. I may be the only person in the world who thought that working a full time job at a theme park was, in fact, a break. It so was. It's definitely the best job I've ever had.

Over the summer, I blindly made the decision to move back to Leicester for a year. Why not? My housemate, Mike, and I searched far and wide, about a week before we wanted to move in (all good, right?) and then found the house we're in now. It's alright. Does the job. We have two spare bedrooms, so naturally we took the bed out of one and it's become a giant, empty room with nought but my green screen in it. It's great.

Then this academic year started. I have got to stop thinking in terms of academic years. In September, I landed a job in a sales and marketing firm. "Great," I stupidly thought, "I can do marketing. I make videos for the purposes of advertisement all the time." OH HOW WRONG I WAS. I'm going to do a full post on this one, but believe me, it was shite. Total shite balls. I quit after two weeks. At least I managed to knick two weeks of sales training for free. Then I worked at Argos. Eeeeeehhhh. It was alright. Some good folks there, but man was it dull. That lasted until the end of January, when I started working at DMU of all places. I'm still there now, but again I think I'll do a full post on it since it's pretty cool.

So hopefully you feel adequately caught up. I don't think I've bored anyone to death, have I? Good.

Now that I have some more free time, I do imagine that I'll try and come up with some more of the funny old stuff I used to make. I want to. It's been a while and my writing fingers need a good stretch.

Ciao for now.

Pete out.