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.