A little observation...

First off, again, it's been too long since I posted, and for that I apologise to any of my regular readers if they exist. That little moment out of the way, here's something I've been thinking about a lot over the last couple of weeks.

We're strange, hypocritical creatures, humanity. I mean, when you really think about it, we're basically constantly being pulled between a series of conflicting urges: the things we want; the people we want; trying to be good; trying not to be bad; etc. These weird obsessions aren't present in any other animals, and they're never going to fully match up to what we can have or what the fates deem fit to grant us. Mankind's reach will always exceed his grasp. Some people view that as a sad thing and get all depressed about it, others accept it and let their imaginations comfort them - they might not be able to have all that they desire, but they can imagine what it would be like.

Anyhow, the last couple of weeks here at uni have all been about conflicting urges for me personally, in more ways than one. I've been studying Jekyll and Hyde, for a start. Also, my girlfriend went home for over a week, and there were a series of long and hardcore parties with my course-mates over that time. Can you see where I'm going with this yet...?

Now let me get one thing clear straight off the bat (and if you read my blog regularly you'll probably already sense this), I am 100% not a guy who would cheat on his girlfriend. Ever. I think cheats are disgusting, and you shouldn't be in a relationship in the first place if you aren't gonna respect a girl enough to not betray her trust. That being said, when it's over a week since you've last seen the girlfriend you're used to being around everyday and you're out with a load of your mates and the tequila,vodka, cider, etc  doth flow, your mind is always going to stray to the lovely ladies dancing around you - it's human nature, and it's annoying as hell.

At the end of the night you're left with a  weird mix of conflicting emotions. There's disappointment that nothing happened, coupled with the relief that you remained faithful (which it makes me sad to say is a quality slowly disappearing from the world it would seem), all curiously tinted by the disgust you feel at ever having let yourself check out that hot girl who was dancing near you for 25 minutes earlier on in the night.

This is what I mean, and what I've been thinking about quite a lot recently whilst my girlfriend's been in absentia. The grass will always be greener - that's a sad fact of the human condition. I guess it's something that the best of us come to terms with, accept as illusion and deal with, and the worst of us surrender ourselves to and let control us.

Matt out.

Snookered on a Sunday night...

So, I haven't been on here in a while, which is mainly a fault of my own. The combination of a large back-catalogue of late 19th century poetry and Christmas excitement meant that blogging really wasn't on my mind for a long time.

But anyways, here I am once again.

I hope your Christmas was good, reader. I for one loved being able to go back home and catch up with all my school mates. Truth be told I got drunk rather too much and didn't do anything like enough degree work over the holidays, but from asking around since I've been back down here in Cornwall I gather none of my uni friends did anything like uni-work over their times back home, so I'm not alone on that one.

One thing I will say about my holiday period - I finally buckled to social pressure and got twitter. Not because I have some desperate need to stalk my favourite celebrities, but because I began to feel like I was missing out on a chance to remain in touch with people from Sixth-form, and quite frankly I couldn't really think of a reason not to get it. So yeah, Tweet me or whatever, I'll probably reply.

I, like most of the human race, love Christmas. It's one of the few times of the year where the smile that's plastered to my face when I walk around isn't the least bit faked, and it's socially acceptable to listen to Fairytale of New York on repeat as much as I want. But most of all it's about family, and surrounding yourself with the people you love. I was lucky enough to experience 2 Christmases, one with my flat at uni, and one with my family. Both were brilliant, and being surrounded by laughter and people smiling means it's hard not to love Christmas as much now as I did when I was 7 years old.

I was fortunate enough to receive a silly amount of presents this Christmas, from a Star Wars T-shirt from my girlfriend to a kindle fire from my family, and a vast amount of chocolate and alcohol in between. Anyhow, I've deliberately left New Years (both eve and resolutions) for another post, probably tomorrow, so for now, so long readers.

Stay Classy,
M

Of Mitt's and Men.

So last night I, as a student with nothing better to do,  I stayed up until 4am GMT  watching the BBC's coverage of the American election. And after a long night I can safely say I have no idea why "Four More Years" is such a big deal.

Now I'm not planning to make this a political post, truth is I don't really have enough knowledge of the political landscape in the US of A to do that. But I will say this: judging from the interviews that were aired on the beeb during the wee hours last night, it honestly seemed as though Obama was simply the lesser of two evils. Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware that Romney's campaign was essentially a progression of U-turns and paradigm shifts, and Obama was at least consistent, but still, I can't help but wonder if there might be some people out there in the world with a better political standpoint than either Mitt or Barack themselves.

And even the process itself seems a little bit flawed in America. I know the first-past-the-post system we've got here in the UK really doesn't make sense come election time, but still - how can the actual popular vote have been essentially 0.8% different between the two of them, yet somehow the democrats won by 100ish electoral votes. If you ask me the results look a little bit unfair from where Romney's standing.

I will say this though, it did make for a great couple of hours of television watching "average-Joe" American voters getting drunk in bars across the States.

Matt out.

Return of the blog...

So I guess I started pretty well there for a week and then the heavy drinking nights and numerous presentations took their toll and I've sort of not blogged quite as much as I should have. Anyways, you have my apologies for that, now onwards with the subject of this blog.

So last night I attended my university's Halloween party dressed as a pirate. I should say Zombie pirate, as I tried to jazz up the costume I used at my fresher's week pirate party and make it a tad scarier. Anyways, I thought I'd share a photo with you lucky people, let me know what you think:

Gutted you cant see my knee high boots to be honest...

Now let me tell you, in a student bar filled with roughly 600 people, a sword can be a truck-load of fun. I lost count within the first hour of the number of people I threatened to a swordfight purely as an ice-breaker. It worked  a treat, so there's a life lesson for you.

I love Halloween. It's something about the way everyone (as in society as a whole) has just accepted that for one night of the year it's entirely agreeable to try and scare the heck out of anyone and everyone, and to extort snacks from strangers by threatening to trick them. I guess it appeals to the cynic in me.

Anywho, my parents are down in Cornwall next week, and I've got to admit I am looking forward to seeing them. I am going to make them pay for everything I need for a week and it's going to be glorious (I mean, that is what parents are for, right?).

My next post will probably be about the banter that ensues when the Clemenson clan relocate to Cornwall for a week, so stay tuned...

Matt out.

To absent friends.

First off, the laptop is fixed, and life is once again returned to normal down here in Cornwall. It's nice to be back, and I hope you haven't all missed me too much.

So I just watched the latest episode of New Girl, (which really is very good, and if you've never seen it I suggest you check it out), and I thought one of the subjects it brought up this week probably merited a blog post - Bromance.

I am lucky enough to have a number of guys I know I can depend on. My best friend for the last 4 years recently moved to Singapore, and I reckon it kind of proves that we've got a pretty solid friendship that we're still talking practically every day despite the 7 hour time difference. I'm flying out to see him in April, and cannot think of a cooler place for the two of us to get drunk that the beaches of Singapore. Haha. Luke, if you're reading this - Easter is gonna be bloody amazing.

Then there are all the other guys I went to Magaluf with in the summer on a lads holiday. I cant say I was looking forward to that week in "Shaga", as it's affectionately named, but looking back on it now it was honestly one of the best weeks of my life and experience I cant imagine ever have missing out on. I've lost count of the times since I moved to uni that I've found myself telling people I've gotten talking to stories that started, " well when me and my mates went to Maga...". And that's what I guess friendships are in the end, a collection of moments and memories that bind you emotionally to another person. Maga had plenty of  those moments, and lads, if any of you are reading this: big love to you all.

Then there are the gals in my life I could not live without. If I write too much about any of you here I'll get a little too emotional, and no-one wants to read that - but suffice to say this: G Copp, Dunners, Lozza and Chambam - you guys are always there for me, and that fact has been noted.

And I guess that's where this blog post has come from. I miss each and every one of my friends from back home - the guys and gals I've had 4 years of bonding with. Most nights at least once I find myself getting a little emotional when something I see or hear triggers a memory that makes me think of them. I guess it really is true that you don't know what you've got till it's gone.

And I also know I'm being melodramatic here, and that I'll see you all at Christmas (apart from Luke) for a bloody good 4 weeks of partying Maga-style, haha.

Anyways, I just thought I'd share a little with you about the people who have shaped my life so far - they do say you can judge a man by the company he keeps. I'd like to think the company I keep does me credit; I know I think the world of each of them.

I hope everyone who reads this is lucky enough to have friends like mine.

Matt out.

Boulevard of Broken Screens

So, since I started this blog I've tried to keep it regular, daily in fact. Within a week, I have hit a snag. My laptop's broken. I'm sure no one's particularly bothered about this, and I'm far too hungover still to go into detail about it here but I will be temporarily less frequent in my blogging for the next week or so.

Matt out.

Sunday Nights - a slow surrender.

Well, here we are at the end of the weekend. It hasn't been a particularly good or bad one, so there's not even that much to look back on as the relaxing Sunday evening regimen of talent-show results and toasted sandwiches.

I don't know why, but I thought that once I'd come to university these afternoons would be different. More interesting and full of drinking games and barely appropriate banter. That has not been the case. It seems that the zeitgeist of my generation has been permeated by this belief that Sunday evenings (or in fact, the entirety of Sunday, as evidenced by myself today) aren't particularly good for anything. No one seems to want to go out, and everyone who stays in never seems to do anything worthwhile. Gone 4 o'clock on a Sunday the world might as well be over.

Add to that the constant sense that there was more stuff you could've accomplished in the previous 48 hours than getting blind drunk and doing some washing and ironing and you've basically got a recipe for a couple of hours spent lounging around, feeling depressed and wondering if any of it is really worthwhile. A part of me wonders if psycho-analysts shouldn't rename Sunday, it just feels a little too warm for what the day eventually broils down to. The inevitable revelation that your 2 day break is over and you're sullenly going back to hard work in the morning.

Still, at times like this there's something I always like to say to remind myself that life's worth living:

One Weekend closer to Christmas.

Hopefully that propels you readers through any sunday night angst you may be feeling at this point in time.

Matt out.