Something from Southall

Opened the door of the house. Once it was closed I saw the letter box had a purple tongue.

I snapped it up and recognised the writing.

Carefully ripped up the seal.

The microscopic gold stars stuck to my hands. Whatever was sent to me allowed me to lock the door.

Then I forgot the real world. There are horrible people there.

Much prefer thinking of her.

Life After Harry

At three thirty am this morning I reached my home.

It only took me around twenty minutes to write my review for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. It can be found at http://misspentyouthfilms.blogspot.com.

Despite the greater part of my time, dreams, influences, conversations and style being connected to Harry Potter - I've always been aware that JK Rowling isn't the only writer of fantasy.

Leading up to the final film's release, there was an explosion on Twitter of how people were going to miss the stories, the regular films and that a part of their childhood was ending.

To me this is silly.

My childhood is still ongoing. Mainly because of the books and cartoons I have.

To all those out there who thought the stories have ended. They haven't.

Think of all those book that influenced JK Rowling. Then all the books that have been influenced by her. Then all those books in the same genre. Followed by those that are aimed at the same market.

I for one am looking forward to the load of books and films out there.

If you're looking for a Gothic castle, head for Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast. Only recently did I find out that Peake's fourth manuscript Titus Awakes was completed posthumously. Pages and pages of gorgeous descriptions, detailing the castle's labyrinths and bizarre characters.

A school for wizards isn't anything new. Ursula Le Guin had one for her Earthsea creation - a mythical world that's probably more user friendly that Tolkien's Middle-Earth.

The late Diana Wynne Jones has stories of magic well before Rowling ruled the fantasy realm. Her Chrestomanci series spanned over a number of novels - but she's also responsible for Howl's Moving Castle.

Think Harry Potter was dark? One of the finest novels of the past fifteen years is Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. Not overly explicit on the magic, but much more chilling - the story of two magicians in early 19th century England. Beautiful, English, creepy and exceptionally long.

And if all else fails, there's Terry Pratchett.

There is so much more. T.H. White's retelling of the Arthurian legend The Once and Future King, . The Shinigami present Death Note. The one I'm looking forward to is Clare Cassandra's Mortal Instruments series.

Already I've said the same thing to many folk.

The magic didn't start with Potter, and I certainly won't let it end with him

Cregagh Road

Unusual when walking up and down the Cregagh Road. Advice is dispensed from characters. Languages are more diverse than what they would have been twenty years ago. The bakeries have all given up competition and are now stocking the same items.

My new home is close to here. Close to a library that's always closed.

Little notes of chats make me believe the journey I'm taking is much colourful. There's a texture being weaved by the people I've met.

One is quite happy. One could be happier. But we won't focus on that.

There'll be more about this road.

Past

As tragedy is becoming more apparent around us, I wonder where the values of we humans really is. What becomes more worthless? The pound - or the extra day someone is given to live?

From the start, none of us where given any promises except one.

That it would end.

Not even, 'Your beliefs will be correct.' Having others with religions and convictions surely puts a doubt into our lives about how the Universe's order is played out.

The past is coming up more frequently. Working in a cinema that the majority of Belfast visit has seen me face many people from my past.

Am I nervous?

Only once. When I mistakenly saw someone who turned out to be someone incredibly different.

If anything, seeing these people, whether I like them or not, has been fun. I'm able to recall small memories. Skills in various aspects can be seen, by my own self, to have improved. It becomes apparent that I have had a history in Belfast. There's a texture in my life that is continuously being added to.

So without promises, what's there to look forward to? Not quite sure. The next book I suppose. A lifeline I'm grateful for. There will be others. Such as seeing scenarios that allow me to smile and hopefully make others smile to. Not so much a promise. More of a goal.

A blog helps me place thoughts up and to make sense of the world. A trick no real line of thought will sort out in a hurry.

Television and the Dying Sanity

The amount of television consumed in my household is unreal. And none of it's really valid, or even consumed properly. My family spend their time making up what they can with tail ends and segments of dramas and films they've already seen before.

Which is why I'll be heading to the library soon enough. Flicking through various radio dramas has done me well. But the walk should eliminate the calories I've been playing with lately.

And the poetry should resurrect braincells. The ones I've lost after exposure to the woman's magazine type material on the box.

Surely it won't be like this forever. Not for me anyway.

Just Say No

Too many people depend on me.

They really shouldn't.

If only for selfish reasons.

Two jobs are demanding. One is tired, and will be more so when one job insists on trying to squeeze more hours out of the day. The other can hassle me at short notice - and I'm learning to say a two letter word to them.

'You're a creative soul,' said Peter, one of my co-workers. 'You need to have time to...do stuff.'

I nodded in agreement.

This up and coming week I'll spend time looking in the mirror, practising how to say that one word. Only that'll have to wait. There's homework and sleep to attend to. The latter will not be fulfilled.

Coffee is my friend. Books I want to be closer to, but must leave it. Some time off would be nice. Though one thinks of the money I'm saving. Surely it'll be worth it.

New Year

Why business sees opportunities on New Year's Day is great. The little time I have free becomes much smaller. It means that the work hours I carry out are extended and that my sleeping pattern sees no return to a healthy state.

And another episode of Come Fly With Me tonight which I'll miss. And when I return to find it recorded, I'm not sure I'll have much of an attention span to sit through it.

With a brother who drinks and snores, disturbing my sleeping pattern and two jobs to attend - it's a wonder I'm still alive.

This year could be my last.