In the absence of…

love, what do we fill our lives with? As young persons we all pursue those moments that we will remember as painfully clear flashes of colour admits an otherwise grey life. Those moments we loved, the ones we truly did what we wanted, the moments we were us. It could be going to sleep next to your girlfriend, feeling her soft skin underneath your fingers as the moonlight shines through the curtains. It may scoring that final point in a match, rejoicing in the roar of the audience. For some it is seeing other look up to them as they got a good grade on their final exam. For others it is simply capturing the rare beauty in the world. Most of us try to make life pleasant for us while we’re here, in one way or another. Some of us choose harder route and try to make the world around us a better place for others while they’re here, in one way or another.

In the absence of one love, I have devoted myself to another. I’ve never felt as old as I do now. I’m twenty and feel older. Old injuries have begun to weigh me down by now, things I’ve never sacrificed a second thought after they healed. But it has been a small sacrifice to have learned as much about myself as I have over the last weeks. And by the end of it, I’m a far stronger person now than I was. A better person, I should hope.

In the absence of love we find something new to love. We change partners, we change hobbies, we change lives. But at heart we all remain the same. Cowards or heroes, those who will flee from their troubles or those that fight through. But along whatever route we choose, we all must do the same. We must all abandon something along the road we walk in life. To live one, we must abandon the other for no man can have everything. But memories, those flashes of colour enlightening your life, will stay with you for as long as you live. Like going to sleep next to your girlfriend. And all we do is hope that while we love something else, maybe we can have those moments with a new love.

Jesus Christ and Amazons

I was going to say how I enjoy performing First Aid around burning stuff that really singes your hair, or how fun it is when the instructors place unconscious, unbreathing casualties around the house for us to randomly stumble upon. Or maybe how much I’ve learnt today, but can’t you half of because of security measures. But no, it’s none of those. Because I need a new phone.

This is a big thing, let me tell you. I buy a new phone about as often as Jesus is born, and when I do I spend about half his life-expectancy trying to find one that’ll last me and is cheap. Never happens, obviously. But now, after watching my team mates BlackBerry I thought I’d give the little fuckers a chance. I can afford them with my pay, so why not. Hell’s Fire, with my pay after the number of hours I’ve pulled this summer I could almost buy a small Third World nation.

Now, for those that don’t know I’m in a manor in Bournemouth trying to become a CPO. No, it’s not a fucking droid, you idiots… That means that every minute I’m not learning, I’m cramming, drilling, eating or sleeping. Or swimming in the awesome indoor swimming pool here. Being this secluded I needed something clever to get my BlackBerry here, so I got it off Amazon. Or so I thought.

Apparently Amazon doesn’t recognise the same billing address I’ve used for years… So when I try to change it my account can’t be accessed. Apparently it was never there. How that works out I don’t know, but hey. I’ll just create a new and order it again. So I do, and get my receipt. But when I check my account to see where it is, I can’t. My account never existed. See a pattern here? Yeah, thought so. This time at least Amazon didn’t tell me they wouldn’t send me this before I’d sent them a statement from my bank saying that “yeah, I haven’t moved my fucking arse from the same fucking address I’ve been using for the last two years as far as they are concerned.”

I’m now crossing my fingers that it’ll be here before tomorrow, 1 PM. Otherwise I’ll have to call Amazon, and that will be difficult seeing as I need a frickin’ phone to do that, and that is the one that should arrive tomorrow. Fucking Catch-effing-22.

Money, you say?

Yes, I do. I often say I’ve got no trouble with money, because I have no money. And that is, to a given degree, true. I’ve got enough to get me by with some small comforts in life, such as new guitar strings, the lunches at the Art Center, and my coke cans littering my room at uni. But beyond that I think you need more money than I do to fret about it. If you have a lot of it, you want to spend a lot of it. The problem is that what you want is not proportionate to what you have, but what you can afford is. I, for example, want a Gibson Les Pauls Studio guitar in that dark sunburst style I love. However, I can’t afford it, which means I won’t get it. However, I could afford an 80 quid Fender acoustic, and so I got one. Put me back a bit, not no so much I didn’t continue with the few luxuries life allows me. If you’re a fairly wealthy guy the guitar wouldn’t be much of a purchase. You’d rather want something even more expensive, like a sports car. They do cost a bit, but since you make a hefty bit you can take up a loan, and so afford it.

Now, guess who you’re more likely to hear bitching and whining about his purchase: Me, strumming quietly on the guitar while basking in the sunlight up at the castle ruins while having a can of Coke by my side; or the wealthy car-owner now having to pay his bank some fairly hafty sums of money each month and limiting his wealth for years to come?

I’m only mentioning this because lately I’ve heard a lot about the expences of higher education. And hey, I’m one of those poor buggers spending 8 grand a year, meaning I’ll be knee-deep in loans by the time I finish. For some reason, tho, and I know which, I refuse to panic about this. Because what I do now will change who I am, and I’d rather live life now, than wait for my life to start. So I bought that guitar because I could afford it, and I’m playing it for what it’s worth. In the future I will be knee-deep in loans, and that is good. Because when everyone else will be complaining about that sports car, I will still have my guitar. I won’t have money or wealth, and that is good. Because if I have a guitar an no money I can be happy. If it were the other way around I would go mad.

Uprooting

I think I might be growing older. I find packing my bags and leaving harder this time than before. Odd, is it not? For the first time in my life I’m truly without roots, free to do what I want. And I want to stay in this little piece of paradise with it’s beautiful sunsets and glorious days spent eating ice cream at the beach, discussing politics, or just relax in the water. I know I will miss it, I’ll look back to it, and I’ll dream of how next year will be.

I can’t wait to move my things into the new house, see the studio, jam at the rooftop, have a BBQ in the neighbours garden and play X-Box with Grammer more often. However, there are some things I need to do first, such as clean my room, back my bags and get my arse on a plane home. Meaning I still have time here

Beach, here I come!

Oh deary me…

Why am I not looking to go back home? By all rights and logical thinking I should. Homemade food, proper bed, own sheets, I get to see the forest again, my father and step-mom is there, all my friends. Still, I’m not looking forward to going home. Why…

It could be my ex, who now has a new boyfriend while I’m still single. That might be it, for that should really bother me, should it not?

It could be my mother, who I’m not exactly on the best of terms with.

It could be the insane amounts of work I have, or the organisation of a Morroco trip.

It could be my general melancholic mood lately.

…

No, not really any of these.
Wait, I got it. Obviously. It was right there all along:

THE INSANE AMOUNT OF PACKING I HAVE TO DO!

The telly, the x-box 360, the two guitars, the effing ten-kilo basscase, the bass, the gigbags, the violins, the back-up drive, the books and all my other shit has to be packed! My memorywall is coming down, my tools are getting packed up, my mountainboard will be disassembled, all my odds and ends will be shoves in a box. And there’s soo much of it! It’s driving me up the walls! I have pens everywhere, boxes of stuff I didn’t realise I had, DVDs pops up in the oddest places, and pieces og guitarstring seems to get everywhere! It’s just to frickin’ annoying! Does anyone know how much importing Chinese child labour costs nowadays? They’re small, the can’t eat that much…

A Declaration of Intent

To remove all possible doubt and deceit, I, Master William Keats, leave behind a Declaration of Intent.

1. There will be no last minute cramming. There will be no cramming at all. This would, a few hours before the exam, only further stress level and deprive precious hours better spent sleeping or otherwise relaxing to prepare for the inevitable stress on mental faculties present at all examinations.

2. There will be a large and proper breakfast tomorrow morning. This to ensure a proper intake of energy before said exam and heighten motivation by tasting nice. The breakfast will contain the proper nutritiens necessary to survive and still have the energy needed to bitching and/or whining about the exam afterwards, and will therefore contain: a) one bagel, toasted and with butter; b) two slices of bacon; c) scrambled eggs; d) one beverage, preferably Coka Cola on a glass bottle. The proposed ingredient contain the encessary balance of sugar, fat, protein and caffeine to keep me awake and probably focused.

3. If I should fail and become severely depressed, a knife will be in a secured location. In such a case all my worldly possessions pass on to Grammer, most notably amongst these are my bass, Kyra, and my two guitars, Isa and Valentina, MacBook, X-box 360 console and belonging items, clothes, dirty laundry, and the tidying of my room. All my remaining funds shall be burned, to spite all those who hoped to get their greedy hands on them.

Once more unto the breech

There remains the battle, the trenches in which we fight, the guns with which we kill. The human race has distinguished itself as the race most easily resorting to lethal force and excessive violence. Any weapon will do, but the more lethal the better. Tomorrow, mine will the pen, my ammunition the ink, and my tank the tip-ex.

Good luck and God’s Speed.

Exams…

It’s that time of the year again… Examinations. Have I revised? Certainly. Several hours a day, and often until the wee hours of the morning. In fact, I’m certain no one has revised as much as me. Have I revised the correct subjects? Well… No. I’ve been playing my violin. No well, but definitely getting there.

Not to despair, tho’, I do in fact know a lot of stuff concerning the subjects. At the very least I know where two of my textbooks are, and that has to count for something? Right?

Bugger this, I’m gonna go and play some games. Got a music block, so no more violin for me today.

Flip it?

I guess I’ll have to in a few days time when my flipcam arrives. It’s a nifty little thing for my video blog project allowing me to film everywhere. Which would’ave been really helpful when we had a jam earlier today with me on a double bass for the first time. It’s a really nice instrument, actually, but somewhat larger than my bass guitar…

Also, the first videoblog is up: http://www.youtube.com/user/kian379

Still working on the design there…

A plea and an announcement

To whomever it may concern,

Which I believe is you, my reader. Of which there is a growing lot, beyond that which I first expected. A month ago this blog was supposed to be about, well, nothing in perticular. It was the response to a whim caused by Ada. Now it is something I enjoy finding the time to write. Whatever rants about games, politics or other things, I like it. And, seeing as there is a growing lot of you following me, I suppose you do as well.

Therefore, a plea. Which, by the way, I think is possibly the funnies word in the English language. Send this link to your friends, family, Nigerian princesses you get mail from, and all others you can think of. If you actually do not enjoy my blog, send this to your nemesis. Just spread the good word about William Keats.

In return? Shit, this does go both ways, doesn’t it? Well, I’ll write about anything you’d like, within limits. Got something bugging you? Something on your heart and mind, and you just can’t see to get that mockery out of it? Wondering how my room looks or what my favourite sexual position is (male thinking, by the way: If I get off, do I care?)? Let me know. Leave comments, send me mail, use snail-mail, and so on.

Yours truly

W. Keats

PS: I’m launching my videoblog, which was a result of a vote on my last blog, this week. Nothing fancy, just short stuff. So, check out my YouTube account (kian379) and I’ll post it here as well.

YTSO

No, this is not some odd accronym for a political institution. It stands for YouTube Symphony Orchestra and is, I believe, the single greatest step forward mankind has made since we invented the ability to communicate. For those of you who don’t know what this is, and I don’t blame, I happened upon it by pure chance, I’ll give you the short version of the project.

I think it started out like this: “Hum, what happens if you take assemble a symphony orchestra purely selected from active youtubers?” – “Let’s find out…”

Yup, YouTube auditioned and selected peope purely based on the videos they posted of themselves playing two different pieces on whatever instrument they had.

Why am I so positive to this, seeing as most orchestras select people based on their talent? Simple: YouTube, as a media outlet, is the simplest and most effective form of interactive communication between users. Anyone can access any video, and borders are non-existent. Therefore, when selecting musicians, there could be no segregation based on religion, colour or creed. The musicians were all selected for their ability to play music, as that was the video available. Even if a particular musician did not have an instrument common within a symphony orchestra they could audition.

What does this mean, hum? Well, 95 musicians from 31 different countries, and their sole goal is to create something together. When else has this happened? Every other summit meeting we usually hear about in the news are political in nature, and conflict oriented. Who caused globa warming? Does global exist? Yada, yada, yada… Lot’s of fingerpointing and arguing. Yes, they are there to create a better world, but with their nation’s interest in mind. It’s not exactly as every industrialised country is going to turn around and say “hey, know what? We did go wrong, worry about taking you over and killing you and stuff. Want some money, we’ll happily lower our living standard.” I recon the chances of that happening is about equal of me finding pics of Sarah Palin rated XXX. Or the chance of me wanting to wank off to that. Seriously, I’d be more worried about she biting my dick and spitting it out. I’d have nightmares for weeks just seeing one of those pics.

The YTSO musicians, however, are creating something, together, as a whole, trying to complement each other and thereby playing a beautiful piece of music. Nothing more, nothing less. They are all there to co-operate in making something beautiful, setting aside differences and own desires to further the good of all of them. Not even the UN accomplishes this.