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Well, hello new journal.
This seems like a good time to make a new start, I guess, since I'm moving from a BA in Politics to a MA in Theatre over the course of this summer. I'm finally getting away from what can only be described as a completely soul-destroying department, so it seems like a good time to make a break. Amusing symbolism abounds just while I'm writing this, incidentally. It's taken me fifteen minutes from writing the first line of the entry to writing this paragraph, because someone somewhere got metaphor happy. First of all, my dad distracted me by putting on the news to hear the headlines, whereupon a story opened with the phrase 'This just goes to show that politics is abhorrent'. While I was still smirking to myself, the phone went, so I went to get it. 'Hello,' said Sympathetic-but-Slightly-Inept-Sounding Man, 'I'm calling for.. I'm calling for the local Labour Party. Can you spare ten minutes to take part in a political survey?'. The fact that he forgot who he was calling for aside, four years ago, my younger self would have jumped at the chance. My current self? I told him I'm registered to vote in England - which is not even a lie, I'm proud to say - so I probably couldn't help him. He said he was very sorry and promptly hung up on me. I assume he meant he was sorry to bother me, rather than sorry that I occasionally live in England, but the jury's still out on that.
Anyway, that brings me up to now, so officially: adieu, thoughts of a political career; I knew you well. Actually, it would probably be more accurate to say I sort of knew you and we were civil with one another until I started body swerving you whenever we passed in the street. You probably wondered what you'd done, but really, we just want different things. Like I want to do something I'm really interested in, and you want my soul. It would never have worked between us, darling. (You also just don't share my propensity to inadvertently quote Pirates of the Caribbean, clearly. Although, I have to say, it would infinitely improve the Houses of Parliament. Maybe I'll come back to you then.)
Since my journal is usually just full of casual observations on my life, I feel like I ought to start as I mean to continue. Here are some things I've noticed in the past two days:
1. There's an expensive new restaurant in Glasgow city centre making some very interesting marketing choices. On the huge sign above the door, it says they offer 'Good Food, Average Service'. Wow, guys, I'm blown away by your ability to sell yourselves. I mean, okay, I can let you away with 'good food' if you really have to. It's lacking something in the imagination department, but okay. Average, though? That's the best you can do? You couldn't even just have settled for saying 'good' again? Surely repetition is better than being completely non-committal about your own staff? They might as well have just put up a sign saying 'Yeah, don't bother' and left it at that. As it was, we went to the French café down the street, because they had croissants for door handles. I mean, come on, who was I going to choose; people who make it a promise to not to be efficient, or people who have a pastry-based entry system? Pastry wins. Pastry always wins. Even when it's average pastry. Mm, pastry.
2. My neighbourhood's been getting steadily worse and worse since I started high school, but I really don't know what to make of today's new development. We've had various different rival gangs around the area, invariably covering anything and everything (shop fronts, lamp-posts, small dogs) with their insignia, as some kind of weird 'we own this' thing. They usually have some kind of stupid trying-to-be-hard name like 'the Mad Crew' or 'the Young Fleet', but this time, I don't know what effect they're aiming for: they've named themselves the 'Street Tagging Vandals'.
First of all, they appear to be offering some kind of weird social commentary on themselves. I don't understand this sudden craze for purposefully advertising yourself as being rubbish. (Not that gangs should advertise. 'We offer excellent rates on stabbing. Buy now for your free under-age drinking quote.') I mean, yes, I'm all for honesty but really? That's all you've got? Come on people - if you're going to label yourselves, why not just take it a bit further? 'Street Tagging Vandals Who Keep their Middle Class Upbringing in a Reasonably Good Area a Secret'? 'Street Tagging Vandals Who Only Drink Cheap Alcohol to Look Hard but Secretly Quite Like their Parents' White Zinfandel'? Or were those ones already taken?
Secondly, the name they did choose shortens to STV. This probably doesn't mean a lot to anyone outside Scotland, but basically, any ITV channel north of the border is renamed STV, so they're really just writing a TV channel all over the walls and following it up with professions of love for their ridiculously named girlfriends - Shuvon, I'm looking at you; go home and teach your parents how to spell Siobhan - and with random swearing and abuse of the world at large. Dad and I have decided we're going out tonight with some paint-cans to write 'CHANNEL 4, LOSERS' and 'BBC NEWS 24 SCREW YOU' all over our neighbours' fences.
- Morv (STILL LUVS U SHUVON)
This seems like a good time to make a new start, I guess, since I'm moving from a BA in Politics to a MA in Theatre over the course of this summer. I'm finally getting away from what can only be described as a completely soul-destroying department, so it seems like a good time to make a break. Amusing symbolism abounds just while I'm writing this, incidentally. It's taken me fifteen minutes from writing the first line of the entry to writing this paragraph, because someone somewhere got metaphor happy. First of all, my dad distracted me by putting on the news to hear the headlines, whereupon a story opened with the phrase 'This just goes to show that politics is abhorrent'. While I was still smirking to myself, the phone went, so I went to get it. 'Hello,' said Sympathetic-but-Slightly-Inept-Sounding Man, 'I'm calling for.. I'm calling for the local Labour Party. Can you spare ten minutes to take part in a political survey?'. The fact that he forgot who he was calling for aside, four years ago, my younger self would have jumped at the chance. My current self? I told him I'm registered to vote in England - which is not even a lie, I'm proud to say - so I probably couldn't help him. He said he was very sorry and promptly hung up on me. I assume he meant he was sorry to bother me, rather than sorry that I occasionally live in England, but the jury's still out on that.
Anyway, that brings me up to now, so officially: adieu, thoughts of a political career; I knew you well. Actually, it would probably be more accurate to say I sort of knew you and we were civil with one another until I started body swerving you whenever we passed in the street. You probably wondered what you'd done, but really, we just want different things. Like I want to do something I'm really interested in, and you want my soul. It would never have worked between us, darling. (You also just don't share my propensity to inadvertently quote Pirates of the Caribbean, clearly. Although, I have to say, it would infinitely improve the Houses of Parliament. Maybe I'll come back to you then.)
Since my journal is usually just full of casual observations on my life, I feel like I ought to start as I mean to continue. Here are some things I've noticed in the past two days:
1. There's an expensive new restaurant in Glasgow city centre making some very interesting marketing choices. On the huge sign above the door, it says they offer 'Good Food, Average Service'. Wow, guys, I'm blown away by your ability to sell yourselves. I mean, okay, I can let you away with 'good food' if you really have to. It's lacking something in the imagination department, but okay. Average, though? That's the best you can do? You couldn't even just have settled for saying 'good' again? Surely repetition is better than being completely non-committal about your own staff? They might as well have just put up a sign saying 'Yeah, don't bother' and left it at that. As it was, we went to the French café down the street, because they had croissants for door handles. I mean, come on, who was I going to choose; people who make it a promise to not to be efficient, or people who have a pastry-based entry system? Pastry wins. Pastry always wins. Even when it's average pastry. Mm, pastry.
2. My neighbourhood's been getting steadily worse and worse since I started high school, but I really don't know what to make of today's new development. We've had various different rival gangs around the area, invariably covering anything and everything (shop fronts, lamp-posts, small dogs) with their insignia, as some kind of weird 'we own this' thing. They usually have some kind of stupid trying-to-be-hard name like 'the Mad Crew' or 'the Young Fleet', but this time, I don't know what effect they're aiming for: they've named themselves the 'Street Tagging Vandals'.
First of all, they appear to be offering some kind of weird social commentary on themselves. I don't understand this sudden craze for purposefully advertising yourself as being rubbish. (Not that gangs should advertise. 'We offer excellent rates on stabbing. Buy now for your free under-age drinking quote.') I mean, yes, I'm all for honesty but really? That's all you've got? Come on people - if you're going to label yourselves, why not just take it a bit further? 'Street Tagging Vandals Who Keep their Middle Class Upbringing in a Reasonably Good Area a Secret'? 'Street Tagging Vandals Who Only Drink Cheap Alcohol to Look Hard but Secretly Quite Like their Parents' White Zinfandel'? Or were those ones already taken?
Secondly, the name they did choose shortens to STV. This probably doesn't mean a lot to anyone outside Scotland, but basically, any ITV channel north of the border is renamed STV, so they're really just writing a TV channel all over the walls and following it up with professions of love for their ridiculously named girlfriends - Shuvon, I'm looking at you; go home and teach your parents how to spell Siobhan - and with random swearing and abuse of the world at large. Dad and I have decided we're going out tonight with some paint-cans to write 'CHANNEL 4, LOSERS' and 'BBC NEWS 24 SCREW YOU' all over our neighbours' fences.
- Morv (STILL LUVS U SHUVON)
