I am sad to report some bad news that I've just received via the brilliant medium of electronic mail. I've been unsuccessful in my quest to win this years The Sun Column Idol competition. Naturally I am disappointed that I was rejected but in a field of thousands of writers, it was understandable.
Whilst trawling through my e-mails, I also enjoy surfing the internet. I opened up Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr and the two forums that I frequent. This time though my little surf opened my eyes to something that I have always considered yet batted away.
I hate people who write in a pretentious way using complex sentence structures and words that have clearly been discovered through extensive use of a thesaurus. When reading what these people write, it is a struggle and it drains from the entertainment factor that should occur through reading.
I enjoy the story and the simplicity behind the story. That is why my two favourite authors are Danny Wallace and Bret Easton Ellis. They tell fantastic stories and through simple, fun language and styles. The one golden rule that I now have for my writing which I have developed since starting this blog, undertaking the final year of my degree and now undertaking a journalism postgraduate course is that I should keep my writing as simple as possible and to tell the story in a way which the median/mean/mode reader will enjoy.
The story should be told, it shouldn't be diluted and forced.
I have just walked out of an exam and it went pretty well.
"Well that went very well!" I declare to my friend. It did go very well but then again it was exam on UK Politics which I consider my specialist politics subject.
My house-mate picked me up after my exam and we went shopping. Post-exam shopping when you have lots of birthday money to spend isn't the wisest thing because I spend a shed-load of cash. I brought a new wallet which was much needed, a new watch which was also needed, some new chinos which I just really wanted, the new Danny Wallace book which again I just really wanted and a remote-controlled helicopter. Yeah, that was a pretty random purchase.
We then went for dinner at Slug and Lettuce where we had what the bar man told us was a "manly cocktail" and dinner. We then headed for the pub where we met up with a few friends and I suddenly felt really ill.
After one pint of Fosters and a Jagerbomb, I found myself heading to the toilets. I felt like I was going to vomit, however after having a wee I suddenly felt a lot better. I went to wash my hands and then immediately went back into the cubicle and chucked up my dinner and drinks. It was pretty horrific and I walked back to my friends who laughed at what a lightweight I had been.
We then all had a arm-wrestling competition. The outcome?
So, my idea to follow Danny Wallace in his Yes Man philosophy was a relative success. I definetly did more things and got up to new adventures, however, I was merely copying an idea that has already been done. Though, would I say yes more in the future? Without doubt.
After a night out on Wednesday, I came up with an idea that I think can surely lead me to being a more positive person. Essentially, from Monday onwards, for a period of one week, I will attempt to not utter one negative comment.
Sure, it's ambitious. Will it be possible? Quite possibly not but one can only try.
Why do I feel I have to be more positive? Well, I've been writing in my graduate job applications that I am a positive, people person so to prove I'm not lying, I'm going to have to be positive.
You're probably wondering about the lack of posts recently. Well, I've moved back to University into my new house with my new housemates but there's one small snag. We haven't sorted out the Internet yet. Or the tv come to think of it.
Now, there's always been something I've wanted to do and I realised today after spending yesturday night home alone as I was ill I got really bored. I woke up this morning after a lenghty sleep and decided it was time to do what I have always wanted.
Anyone who knows me or follows this blog will know I'm a fan of Danny Wallace. You see, I want to follow what he did in Yes Man and say yes to everything. It seems like the right time.
Here's the deal. I've decided that I'm going to set the time frame to be two weeks. That's right two weeks of relentless usage of the word yes.
You'll be glad to know that Day 1 was already a partial success. I decided to head to the library and I ended up saying yes to entering a writing competition for the newspaper i. From there I ended up going to dinner with a housemate and a few of his friends and it culminated in going to a house party, although that wasn't the greatest event ever.
Anyway, I shall report back in two weeks. In the meantime, I'm off to Dublin on Friday and I'm sure I'll have a story to tell from that.
It's a typical Saturday morning. I'm sitting in my chair, reading The Sun, watching Soccer AM and eating my breakfast. Multi-tasking at its finest, I think you'll agree. I had my phone on charge up in my bedroom and I went upstairs to go to the loo. I thought I may as well check my phone to see if it has charged. It had. Success. An early morning task completed.
I noticed I had recieved a text. A text inviting me somewhere. It was from my friend Alex. It read, 'Do you want to come to town to meet me becky and rice at like 1 to 1:30 ish??'. As any good friend and reader of the classic Danny Wallace book Yes Man, I decided I only had one answer. Yes.
Now, here's an interesting sub-plot. It's also my parent's anniversary. Their 28th to be precise. My sisters weren't in at this time and weren't coming back all day so my parent's weren't exactly dissapointed I was going out. If you can read between the lines, that is a sentance I never wished to write.
So I had arranged to meet Alex by the roundabout. It's a well known place in Berrylands. It's almost as renowned as the pub. However, he was late. His mum was giving us a lift into Kingston, yet an apparent trip to petrol station was taking longer than expected.
I had been sitting, waiting for an age and then some lady proved that women drivers are in fact rubbish. Of all the parking places, she decided to park right by where I was sitting. The cheek. How dare this lady play mind games with me? How dare she take over my land? I thought I should stay strong and remain where I was. I had to win the battle of minds for men all over the world united against women drivers. I got up and called my friend. He informed me he was nearly here. I had lost the battle of the wills against the lady. She walked off to the park knowing she had won.
Suddenly, a massive group of OAP cyclists flocked through the park and round the roundabout. I had never seen such a thing. This day was starting to become rather odd.
We eventually arrived in Kingston and we met up with Becky. We went to Topman to buy one so Becky could buy a girl friend some socks. Yes, I did say Topman. It's odd how women can get away with wearing mens clothes, yet it's considered strange how men can't wear womens clothes. Although I guess it is odd to see a man wearing female clothes. Anyway, we soon went to Topshop in search of these socks and then it began.
As any man will know, it is a frightening experience entering a female fashion store. Especially one without a male fashion section. I've been to these female fashion stores before with my mum but I always knew that as long as I stuck by her side and I didn't complain about being in the shop then my mum would happily go to shops that I would like to go too.
However, we soon got trapped. Becky had thundered around the shop at a lightening pace. We, though, were stuck. Trapped. Cornered in a small area of the shop surrounded by hundreds of female shoppers and dummies. As far as I could see we were the only men in there. We must have looked creepy and strange. Women will have wondered what we were doing there. They were probably whispering and pointing at us.
Luckily we soon escaped what was fast becoming hell and caught up with Becky and went to the top floor. It was here where the men were. The men who were there for their women. Their female friends, wives, girlfriends, daughters. The whole male spectrum was here and they all looked equally fed up and petrified. One man was carrying his girlfriend's bag, one was following like a depressed sheep and another was merely standing at the side. He looked especially trapped and lost in this world for high street female fashion. I wanted to nod to the man to give him the 'I-feel-your-pain' look but if I had I suspected he would have been even more distressed.
We eventually made it to the male safe haven of HMV. I was looking for Ninja Assassin, but another soon caught my eye. Ninja Cheerleaders. It sounds brilliant. It has ninjas who are cheerleaders and they must compete in a strip competition to gain some much needed cash. It seems like a film that is probably worthy of an Oscar. It only had one downside. It was £12. However, I've found a copy on Play.com for £5 and I plan to buy it soon. If you're lucky I might even give you a detailed review of the film.
