Just recently I finished The Fry Chronicles  and a particular sentence towards the end struck me with particular force. "My roaring twenties were over". I had just read Stephen Fry's autobiography of his roaring twenties; his life story that took us through uncertainty, to confusion, to ostentatiousness, to exultation, to unequivocal success. The book was justified and (although sometimes too  name-dropy) it had something to say, a story to tell. It made me look at myself, a seventeen year old, and think about what stories I will have to tell when my twenties end. Will they be roaring, like Fry's? He mentions abundantly how lucky he is, but his success is clearly a measure of his talent, focus, and commitment. I look at myself at 17 and realise what I want. I want, by the end of each decade I've been alive, to be able to proudly see it off as a roaring decade. I have three years left of this decade and, naturally, I haven't done much. One can't do muc...

The puzzlement that confounds me beyond distraction when I attempt to think of what would ever lead me to want to take my own life would sizzle the sentience of a supreme sage. How could anybody want to discard such a grandiose gift as life? I thought of it as I was walking up a steep hill and I could feel the pressure of my foot and shoe against the pavement. Such a simple sensibility is astounding. The ability to feel at all; as the wind brushes across your person and strokes your skin, as you weave in and out of shadows and sunlight, feeling the rhythmic switch from warmth to cool, warmth to cool, warmth to cool; the various sounds that hum about and dance inside of your ears on a daily basis -- the click, release, click, release of your keyboard, the symphony of birds in the morning, the roar of cars through the city centre reminding you of how far humans have come, the intricate nuances of conversation; moreover, the things you see: the wide spectrum of colours that bedazzle yo...

The sky churns eerily above the houses behind mine. June is approaching, which means the 6th month of the year is approaching. Half the year has almost passed. I bring this up because the idea is bitter-sweet for me. Sweet because this drearily transient year is coming closer to an end; bitter because it highlights the transience of it all. Sweet is the thought that it's only a year until I can escape the strong dependence that being (lawfully) a child burdens you with. Sweet is the image of entering a new city next year, meeting so many new people, becoming a better person -- one who does more, one who lives . However, sweet is also looking back over this half-year and spotting a few signs of personal development; sweet is getting a camera for my 17th birthday and watching my images improve; sweet is starting a new novel(la) that I'm proud of so far. Bitter is how idle I've been. Bitter is not having written more of that novel(la). Bitter is stasis; bitter is not g...

Today I had a long break in between my psychology lesson and my philosophy revision session, so I had to do something with it. I bought some Burger King (my absolute favourite fast food place, without a doubt, I've decided), went to a nice park in town (that I had found by previously roaming), ate, and read a bit of The Fry Chronicles.  I was serenaded by the sound of construction (2013, new library! Hopefully I won't be in the city to see its completion, but I shall return to visit it), but some things you must endure in a large city. Aforementioned construction This peculiar man was in fact covered with pigeons at one point (he was feeding them), but I took too long in getting over my shyness to take a photo of him. Pleasant reading (like many, I adore Stephen Fry to bits) in a pleasant park. P.S. I feel like I should add a doting post script about my philosophy teacher. She truly is like a goddess of teaching, a messiah. She has swooped in at the last sec...

This week has been particularly good. I saw my friend's brother perform in a play (a student rendition of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing  that I enjoyed very much! I must go to the theatre more often); subsequently, I explored Coventry; I shirked another Psychology lesson (oh, man, I will have to face my teacher on Monday); I helped a friend with his AS film coursework (I was more a disposable pawn, but I felt useful); today I feel as though I successfully conducted a conversation in Spanish for my first AS exam of the summer; and finally, almost as celebration, my two closest friends and I saw the film Hanna (one of my new favourites) and ordered tickets to see Bo Burnham live after our exams are done. I haven't felt so happy in quite a long time. I hope this feeling persists. Oh, and I've also started a new self-challenge: to read at least 100 pages a day. So we'll see how that goes.

On the way to town Yesterday I spent time with some college friends outside of college for the first time. I enjoyed it. We went to watch Thor with a few of my mates from secondary school, but they were taking their time to arrive at the cinemas, so what we did to kill some time was play this game wherein we conducted a narrative, one sentence at a time: i.e. W. would give a sentence, then D. would, then I would, then back to W. The story was very bizarre and made it apparent that there's a reason why novels are usually written by one person, as D. pointed out. But it was hilarious and fun. It was the strongest sensation of friendship I had felt in a long time. We watched Thor and D. came out slating it, claiming it was destroying the film industry and that even our higgledy piggledy, tri-authored story was better than it. Whereas I quite enjoyed it and so we debated about it for quite a while. Although emotions flare when you are defending something that you think positive...

Today I shirked school for the first time. I only had Psychology and we were doing a mock exam in the lesson. However, I knew I would do horribly in it because -- and I really do regret to say it -- I haven't started revising yet. Mock exams are supposed to help you understand what level you're working at, to expose holes in your knowledge to help you -- I don't deny that they're a good thing, but I already know  what level I'm currently at and I already  know that 90% of my knowledge is comprised of holes at the moment; it would have been pure embarrassment, mortification for me to have gone in to do it. So instead I went to the library and walked around town a bit afterwards: I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I can't seem to get work done; my sleeping pattern is fucked beyond all recognition ... I'm somewhat uninspired towards school, despite my only real short-term goal being university... Well, at least I'm still reading some go...

Tonight something tragic happened: the house opposite mine exploded. A girl and a fireman watch as the chaos comes to a close. "There's a kind of beauty in tragedy," I said to my mom. (Nobody was harmed).

a picture I took of one my friends on a night I'm glad to have in my memory, but I just wish for many others like it I have no life. It's saddening. My days, if not filled with college, are plagued with ennui. This period of my life frustrates me tremendously... I can't wait for next year, September. I need a new start, a new me -- a me that does more. For now, there is little to do, if I'm being entirely honest. My age, for one, restricts me from doing much; I'm not the richest boy in the world, so I can't lavishly spend the money I do have. Also, I don't have many friends. (Oh lord, it will be painfully embarrassing to read this back to myself in the future. I am a cliché: blogger blogs miserably about not having friends.) I mean, I have friends, but I don't go out with any of them apart from when we do a large get-together. And those are fun, but I long for the kind of friendship where a small group of us can just go out somewhere, to a park, a...