Not so Final Fantasy

One has to cross the Albert Bridge in order to get to Belfast's Central Library.  It's an early part of a Saturday (9.45am) when most people are relishing a nice lie in.

Except for me.

And Jaime Lannister.

At this point Game of Thrones has been filming in Northern Ireland for around eight years.  In that time I've seen and served a healthy number of its prominent cast.  I get the impression that they're part of the Northern Ireland settings now.  To the point where no one is particularly phased by them.

Dear Jaime was just taking a break from his sword play and politics.

But it did remind me to try to read more fantasy.  I've always loved reading fantasy.  Not so much sci-fi.  Because it pickles my head.  But fantasy has always been adjustable for my mind.  One has to buy a copy of A Dance of Dragons however as it's missing from my collection.  This week I reread Terry Pratchett's The Colour of Magic.  And I'm also reading in chunks Marion Zimmer Bradley's mammoth retelling of the Arthurian legend - The Mists of Avalon.

Time isn't on my side however.  And this is the problem with working a job where the hours are either jumbled or surprising.  Today was meant to be my day off work.  And now tonight I've agreed to start at 5.00pm, finishing at 1.00am and then returning at 9.00am tomorrow.  It's my own fault.  I did agree to it.

The advantages are that it will mean more money and at least the person I'm doing this for will get to spend more time with a loved one.

Though I probably am showing a true Virgo trait here and playing the martyr.

So not much fantasy reading for me today, tomorrow... Maybe Monday night.  If I'm not exhausted.

It's only sprung in my mind that if indeed I am too tired, I can always listen to some fantasy series on BBCiPlayer Radio.  A quick check on its app tells me that there are two retellings of Dracula available.  

The earphone port of my mobile phone wasn't working this week.  This was on Wednesday when I was tackling several breakages around the household.  Thankfully the gentleman at the Samsung Advice Center was happy enough to take care of it in no time.

I owe him a caramel square.

But this now means I can feel wrapped up in other voices.  Trained to entertain.

Many a times I have fallen asleep to readings and poetry from the radio.  Do they enter my dreams?

So now I have a few notes to type, dash home to meet my dear brother and listen to music before the inevitable shift start.  One shouldn't complain.  I have a job and I'm earning.  One should make the best of it.  And I'm sure there will be other times to catch up on reading.  So long as I'm not catching up on too much sleeping as well.

Summer Lack of Love

Currently in a boiling top floor of Belfast's Central Library.  One has switched off all notifications from news outlets and am avoiding the general use of the internet.  I'm sure you'll all remember this day fondly - especially the happy couple.

But I'm going to wheel out my cynical nature and not be bothered.

That's not to say that I am cynical about love.  These days I'm exceptionally happy to see two people come together and find love.  And I'm even happier when it works out for the best.

A dose of realism on my own circumstances.  The good Belfast weather has helped put negativity at bay.  Love isn't something I'm looking for.  Books and time to read them are my priorities.  I think that's a Romantic life in itself.

There may be a lack of a love life but not a love of life.

I came up with that just now.

Yesterday I went to see Life of the Party starring Melissa McCarthy.  I like Melissa.  Even in the lesser films she tends to be the funniest thing in them.  I never feel that there's a bad bone in her - that her sole objective is to help find herself and have fun whilst doing it.  That's the case in The Heat where she plays a foul mouthed, unorthodox cop who is teamed up with Sandra Bullock's more timid agent.

Life of the Party is ok.  It passed an afternoon.  I got a few giggles.  And nothing really struck me.

Except that maybe as we get older we do still think that we can be younger.  I suppose what I've learnt is that there's nothing wrong with being older.  In fact, I'm starting to prefer it.

I agreed to work tonight.  Which is fine I guess.  Money is always useful.  Considering I saw my latest payslip, I will have to try beefing it up.  It's not as if I'm doing anything else.  Except trying to find time to read.

And maybe do the laundry.  You'd think by this point I'd have found a way to juggle them both.

And between you and I, I may go music shopping.  I haven't treated myself to anything for a long time.  A couple of CDs would be perfect to grab and chill out to later.  CDs aren't expensive by today's standards.  I'm not buying vinyl.  Not for the time being..  Considering my vinyl player is half the speed it should be.  Hearing Ozzy Osbourne sing Over the Mountain but stretched out makes it sound as if I'm at one of his more recent concerts.

Mean?  I dread to think of how Marilyn Manson will sound in ten years.

Europe I'll miss you. Until we meet again.

With less than a year to go to Brexit's deadline, many of us Remainers are now doing what Leavers are supposedly accused of.  Nostalgia.  Leavers are often accused of dreaming of past days before the EU - and how much better it was.  Now the chop hasn't occurred yet and I guarantee the younger generations are already yearning for the idyllic Europe trip that their local art house cinema has shown them.  Because soon enough it'll feel as if it's been cut off forever.

It won't be.  According to our glorious Prime Minister, "We are leaving the EU, we are not leaving Europe."  Thanks Theresa.  I knew we could count on you.

But if you are feeling that yearning for the culture Europe has to offer, you may wish to tune into your television tonight at 8.00pm on BBCONE.

Yes!  It's that time again.  Where Chris doesn't shut up for weeks on end beforehand.  Where we see how pretty the genetic pool is on the continent.  And that music will be camp and colourful and scrumptious.

Welcome back Eurovision.

As I'm pretty poor this summer, I can't make it to any of our neighbours.  So the next best thing is to revel in competing tunes that will have gay bars dancing for the rest of the summer.

The only other thing I have is a small collection of European films on Netflix.  That's how I learn the smallest of phrases for when I finally do get to holiday.

Granted I am scared of Brexit.  Of how I'll move through airports.  Of how the economy may have detrimental effects to knock on various other jobs.  Of how the "problems" Brexit will supposedly clear up will probably still be with us.

But for now let's enjoy what Europe has to offer.

The joke that Britain would be expelled from Eurovision after Brexit did circulate.  I guarantee if that was the case, all of the gay community would have rallied to stay within.

Please do love Love, Simon - but be sure to Love Yourself.

"Emotional Turmoil" has been the key phrase of the past couple of weeks for myself.

And all because I went to see Love, Simon (2018).  Throughout this (magnificent) teen film, I remembered being an age where I was terrified of coming out of the closet.  But there was also a degree of excitement.  This potential that I was to be inaugurated in a life with secrecy, flamboyancy, glitter, icons and who knows what else.

And there was fear of rejection.

Which to a degree I did face.

And do still get scared of on occasion.

But the main throwing of my emotions was Love, Simon's happy ending.  There seem to be many theories of how they're to be formulated or played out.  And here we have a film telling us that they are run-of-the-mill and normal.  Is this a realistic portrayal?  Now I should know, as someone who watches around two hundred films a year and reads a large amount of fiction that realistic endings are bizarrely low.  So I'm somewhat confused.   

And yet...

I have managed to be single for just over four years now.  So we'll say that's 1, 460 days.  And I'd guess I've been overly sad about being single for around 100 of those in total.  That's not bad.  The majority of them taking place after my last breakup.  And then those days that no matter where I go I'll be bumping into couples everywhere.  That's when the early Bridget Jones in me starts to crave my sofa and pile of Cadbury's chocolate.  The worst part of those "problematic" days is that they feel much longer than the happier days.

I like to think of myself as a Champion of Singledom.  The amount of activities and value of being independent are both in high measure.  And regarding the amount of breakups I've been hearing about in the past two to three months, I have been learning that no relationship is guaranteed.

So today has been a beautiful new day.  I got up at a reasonable time this morning, have placed one set of laundry on (for my work uniform more than anything), read over and completed one chapter of writing and restarted my blog here.

So if this is your first time to this blog, I'm glad you've taken the time to read it.

I owe it to myself to be more creative and active and healthy and cultured.

And most of all, I owe to it to myself to be myself.