I cut my fringe back in, because I was sick of the sight of my own forehead:

Having another yawnerific “discussion” with Rob via Facebook concerning tennis. He seems bothered by my opinion that today’s Australian Open final was a disappointment. Last year’s was one of the best matches I’ve ever seen (it wasn’t as spectacular as the semi with Verdasco, especially as the final’s fifth set was an exhibition of exhaustion, but it was still fantastic) and this year, whatever way you look at it, doesn’t compare. Of course he brings up my ass-kissing of Nadal, as I predicted he would – I have a favourite player, so what? I don’t even need to bring out the stats and video replays to show you who the better player is, so I won’t. Fact is, Nadal wouldn’t have won today if he had been in the final – in his current form, I would say he’d take a set, at the most. But that’s not the point; Nadal didn’t get to the final, he is injured, he has not been playing his best.

What about His Holiness The Great And Revered Messiah Andrew “Very Angry All The Time” Murray? He is on form, he has played some great tennis this tournament, and as the media have not failed to point out in recent days, this was his best chance of his entire career thus far of winning a slam final. And he didn’t do it. I’m sure he’ll have another chance. Despite my firm belief that Roger Federer is a cyborg sent from outer space, he must surely show signs of aging at some point within the next ten years, thus causing his dominance to fade. I think Muzza’s real chance comes then, which would be sad in a way…if, to finally win a slam, he has to wait for the world’s best to diminish, it’s not a great reflection on him as a player looking to create a legacy. The great thing about Rafa and Roger’s inimitable rivalry is that, no matter who is playing better at which time on what surface in whichever country, they have both beaten each other in the big events when it really counts, and they have so much more respect for each other because of that simple fact.

Still, the comments keep things interesting, I suppose. I relish differences in opinion, it’s what life is all about. It’s futile to argue such things, but as it’s my profile I posted it on, nobody has to read it, and if they should want to comment, then I will always reply. Common courtesy, y’know?

Anyway, Nadal’s knees are playing up again (and I do worry about him, but I’m confident that if he doesn’t stress and takes his time, he’ll still be able to play at the top level for a few years yet) and has been ruled out for the next four weeks. I have not rooted for anybody else over the last six years of my life, so I’m at a loss, and I’m trying to think who I cheered on when the knees ruled him out last year…oh, of course, The Back-Up Spaniards. These include Fernando “Double Fault” Verdasco, Felicity Lopez and David “Can’t String Two Wins Together” Ferrer. It will be interesting to see which of the top players get off to a good start. Federer’s a given, but I’d like to see Djokovic do well. I think the tour needs a bit of crazy; he isn’t criminally boring like some of the others are. He’s a headcase, but I like it.

Anyway, on ONTD Tennis there was a guy love thread. Some of the shared photos were too cute not to share:

IT’S GUY LOVE

THAT’S ALL IT IS

IT’S GUY LOVE

HE’S MINE, I’M HIS

NOTHIN’ GAY ABOUT IT IN OUR EYES

IT’S GUY LOVE

BETWEEN TWO GUYS

And with that, let’s hope 2010 is a good one for tennis. I expect Delpot will steal another slam, and if Cilic improves on his confidence, then from what we’ve seen so far, we could have a few different faces cropping up in finals, which would be nice.

Right, well, enough of that. Today is my designated writing day. I have to finish typing up my Snodgrass notes (it’s best if you don’t ask) and make a start on the next chapter of Nom…although it’s a beasty one.  We’ll see what happens. I will also see to my toothache & headache combination, and hopefully get some reading done. All in a Sunday’s work.

Dear Rafa’s knees,
I must confess,
your behaviour brings me
much distress,

This poor young man
did all he could
to battle past
the horrid Muzz,

and yet you
hold him back again!
Why can’t you be
more of a friend?

The boy did try
his very best,
but could not get past
that leg-long pest!

It’s time, I feel,
you went away.
Rafa needs knees
that want to play,

and as you’re not
up to the task,
there’s just one question
left to ask:

Will you leave quietly,
without fuss?
Or must I drag you,
tied and trussed?

I’ve tired of you,
dear Rafa’s knees;
you bring him pain
when there’s no need,

Without you,
he would do just fine;
more first serves in,
balls down the line,

more first pumps,
‘VAMOS!’, Toni cheers!
Rafa plays on
all through the years,

The next slam final
he’s sure to win,
with the old knees out
and a new pair in.

So now, dear knees,
it’s down to you,
I expect you’ll be gone
in a day or two,

We’ll take care of him,
our Spanish friend,
and at Melbourne next year,
he’ll reach a happier end.

I graduated! AT LAST!

It was so good to have Jack there. I didn’t hang around to party or anything, but I feel as if those days are behind me now. Life begins.

Congratulations to everyone else that graduated in the class of 2009. Apart from the usual bitches who wish me no happiness, I’m sure. Y’all can suck on my First Class Honours degree and fuckin’ like it.

Tomorrow will be a busy day. I’m going to make sure I get as much of the following done as is humanly (Sineadly? GODLY?) possible:

• WAKE UP
• GET UP
• FUSS OVER RABBITS
• EAT TOAST DRINK GRAPE JUICE REPEAT
• Tidy up desk, hang degree certificate somewhere
• Edit AT LEAST one of the short stories for the collection
• Check out the job site Lucy recommended
• Complete editorial exercise for job in London
• Print off forms for Master’s degree funding
• Enjoy/lament Rafa’s 4th round match [delete where applicable]
• EAT BIG SUNDAY DINNER YES
• Write up latest edited chapter of C.O.N.
• Finish reading Titus Groan

…that’s a lot. I won’t get it all done, but I’ll give it a go.

Whilst stranded on the first floor at work the other day (truly the best place to work, with the classics, poetry, drama and history books ) I encountered Koran Lady. As the appropriate nickname suggests, she is a lady that likes to talk about the Koran. Well, she doesn’t really talk about it…just instructs me to buy one, every time we meet. Apparently, we sell some nice ones.

Anyway, I don’t mind this lady. Sure, she’s unusual and can cause quite a queue to form behind her when she’s talking, but she is always polite and quiet, and keeps to herself when wandering around the shop. I was tidying up my till area after a recent meeting with her, and found two pieces of paper tucked into a corner:

The top piece is part of a photocopy of a Christian hymn. I don’t know what the urdu(? that’s a complete guess) translates to, but something tells me it might say the same as the second piece underneath does. I’ll try to remember to scan in the reverse of these snippets next time.

“Great is the mystery of faith”

I think that’s beautiful, frustrating, haunting and true, all at once. Belief is different from faith. I believe in god with a small ‘g’, and there is no need for faith in anything else. I don’t understand atheists. They are just following anti-Gods. These forgotten pieces of paper didn’t make me think too long or hard, but it did make me realise; faith, whether it be in a God or a god or a non-god or a nothing, is a mystery, indeed. There is always something that we will fail to understand about the people around us, which is wonderful.

Just a thought. On with the week. We’re nearly there.

Well, tomorrow will be the grateful end of the last three years of my life. I’m graduating…at nine o’ clock in the morning…fuckin’ Derby Uni, useless as ever!

I have my dress planned and ready (and by “ready” I mean screwed up in a ball and on the floor somewhere, doubtless hidden beneath other clothes), tickets at hand, a camera to charge, and to top it all off…major toothache. Today was my second appointment in the Save Sinead’s Teeth Whilst Causing Her As Much Pain As Is Humanly Possible campaign. Lady Dentist cries GREAT SUCCESS.

I consoled myself with books. My Stephen King collection is getting out of hand…soon, one bookcase won’t be enough.

I don’t doubt that graduation-related photos will materialise over the weekend…aren’t you thrilled? For now, I’m going to relax with what remains of Titus Groan, attempt to eat some soup with bread & butter (seriously, she used so much anaesthetic, I can’t feel my face at all), enjoy some more stunning tennis courtesy of the Australian Open, and go to bed early. Looks like a disgracefully early start tomorrow, to get there for half seven.

I bought the same A7X shirt twice, one black with white print and the other white with black print (see above). I really need to learn some self control. Whenever I pluck up the courage to pick up the phone this week (I have serious phone-phobia) I will call my bank and request new details for my savings account, so I can hide some of my money from myself. I don’t know whether I’ll be savings for my Master’s or a flat deposit or extra driving lessons or what have you, but it doesn’t really matter.

This week’s going to take forever to piss off. I have another dreaded dentist appointment (I’m in agony, by the way – the new dentist is certainly more efficient, but she is also more deadly with the face-clamp) and graduation to contend with…as well as a jam packed work schedule. I’m being kept on for another month. I thought I’d be dismayed at this, but I think my retail resistance forceshield is beginning to crumble. I like everybody there too much to want to leave, just yet. Plus there’s the fact that I can’t live without money and there are no other jobs out there…c’mon lottery, it’s about time you came through for me.

I’ve got a LittleBigPlanet date with Tom later, and before that swings round I want to watch some of last year’s Australian Open highlights and read a bit more of Titus Groan. Reading Mervyn Peake’s fiction is like jumping in at the deep end with big, heavy biker boots on. I’m learning so many new words. I went to bed early last night (seriously…asleep by half nine) and my mother gave me her beasty dictionary for “light reading”. I looked up all of the words I didn’t understand in the first chapter. Maybe I should start an IMPROVE YOUR ENGLISH WITH MERVYN PEAKE feature, so you can all learn along with me. The man was a human thesaurus!

Also, I’m so so SO glad the tennis season is starting up again! In fairness, it doesn’t feel like it ever stopped. Asutralian Open coverage starts at midnight!! Bring it on!! Ah yes, and kudos to Federer for arranging a fundraising event for Haiti (link may be restricted if you’re not a member of ONTD Tennis). I just like the mental image of him texting Rafa, asking him to join in. So sweet.

I’ll leave with you this awesome video of Serena, Roger and Kim having fun, and Rafa taking everything super seriously:

Bless him!

This is my new desktop background, because it made me laugh so much:

Yes, this is my lovely little bunny, in a top hat and monocle, courtesy of Joe. It suits him perfectly. This really has made my day.

I’ve had the weekend off work, so instead of worrying over trivial things/doing absolutely nothing with my time, I’ve done some work on my novel. Basically, for those who don’t know, the story is essentially finished and events are in order…but instead of just editing the manuscript and redrafting, my second draft is a complete rewrite, so I’ve started again with 0 words, and am using my notes and feedback from draft #1 to rebuild the story from scratch. Does that make sense? In a way, Chronicles of Nom is already complete…it’s just very, very bad. Anyway, because my goal for this year is to get it finished once and for all, I’ve decided to hound myself with an imaginary surveillance programme called NOMWATCH. It’s kinda like Crimewatch, but pointless, and vaguely useful only to myself, and even then…not so much. That last sentence is terrible. And I want to make money from doing this? Oh, deary, deary me! Anyway. Enough babble. NOMWATCH IS HERE.

I’m going to track the wordcount of this draft each month. If there isn’t sufficiant progress (current estimations put the wordcount for the finished article at about 100k) I will beat myself to death with my own inadequacies.

Yes, I do think I’m going insane.

I’m part the way through a chapter at the moment, but I’ve been typing and distracting myself via the internet for most of the day, so I’ve decided to stop for now. I have another day off later this week, but it’s the same day as one of my Evil Dentist Appointments of Doom, so I don’t know how creative I’ll be feeling.

The other good thing about today is that I finally started looking into a Master’s degree. I don’t know why I want one, really, seeing as I don’t actually want a job or anything resembling a sensible career…but oh well. I found a really interesting course in Glamorgan called Gothic Studies (not as grim/leather-belt-studded-choker as it sounds) which is basically just the worshipping of Edgar Allan Poe, Bram Stoker and the like. Sounds good to me. I ordered a postgrad prospectus, anyway, and also sent off for one from a few other universities (including Aberystwyth!). I don’t know how I’ll ever afford a Master’s degree, but I’m sure there’s funding somewhere. First, to make sure there’s actually one out there I want to go for. The prospect of getting the fuck out of this city for a while is once again rearing its attractive, endearing head…gimmegimmegimme.

A note to myself for this week: Buy candles, or a lightbulb for your lamp. Desperate and dark times are upon us, folks. I wish the snow would bugger off so I could actually make it to the shops.

Rafa has a sponsorship deal with cookies, now. I love this man. He is so very, very strange and dishy. Here’s what he had to say about making it to the final in Doha:

“I am playing well every day. It’s very important to start the season like this. Being in a final is a very good thing in the first week of the year. To win a title is important, and when you end your career you’ll look back on how many you won. I will try to play my best tennis tomorrow. It will be very difficult.”

This is pretty much the entirety of his English vocab. He is so adorable. Don’t ever change, Rafa. If you ever start cracking out the big words and actually saying things of substance, I will be very upset.

ANYWAY, I have something spooky to share!! Back when I was 15 years old, I was perfectly normal (honest) and enjoyed writing poems about the usual teenagery stuff, such as graverobbing, rape, and a little bit of necrophilia on the side. One such poem, entitled Here Lies Mary Thomas (one of many included in REVOLVE, hurhurhur) goes a little something like this:

Crouched behind the marble stone,
the graverobber set his sights
upon the grave of a young woman,
illuminated by the moon’s silver light.

Fresh roses lay upon the dirt,
her engravings had been scrubbed clean;
“Here Lies May Thomas”, it read,
“Still with us in our dreams”.

The graverobber allowed himself to smile
as he pictured her festering corpse.
He touched the headstone with stained fingers
and promised after this there’d be no more.

He picked up his shovel and started to dig
at the ground above where she lay.
At last, a glimpse of the coffin
that had already begun to decay!

After a strenuous hour, the hard part was done;
he hauled the casket out of the grave,
gave the lid an inspection before fetching his axe
and smashed through the wood, all the way.

At last, he sets his eyes ‘pon the beauty within
(a fresh one, buried only two weeks!).
He stoked her dark hair, pulled her out of her box,
over his shoulder, and out the graveyard he sneaked.

At home, set upon the cold table.
The stench was terrible, the neighbours would complain!
But not until after the deed was complete,
not until he had played his sad game.

Looking at her pale face, he pictured her smile
and the way she had felt in his arms.
He looked at her hand, saw the wedding band was gone
and suddenly wished her great harm.

Unzipping his trousers, he stole her modesty,
and this time she couldn’t refuse!
Again and again, he blessed the silence,
as her lifeless body he ruthlessly used.

Ray Thomas never asked Mary to leave him,
and he certainly didn’t want the divorce.
He took his revenge from the woman who left him;
from the angels, he begged no remorse.

With the deed done, he started smiling again;
of all their nights together, this had been the best!
Placing a beg over his nose and climbing into his bed,
he closed his eyes for a well-deserved rest.

…yeah. Okay. Just for the record, I have no interest in sexing up a corpse. I guess I listened to a little too much C.O.F when I was younger, right?

Anyway, back to the tale at hand. So, the other day I’m at work, I answer the phone. The branch up the road is looking to reserve a book for a customer…I get the ISBN, look it up on the computer, and see that it’s a book about dying and coping with bereavement. Pleasantries exchanged, I find the book on the shelf, and ask for the customer’s name so I can place it to one side.

Him: “Mary Thomas.”

Me: “…Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Him: “Mary Thomas.”

My face, at this point, is a little something like this: D:

I reserve the book and am informed that Ms. Thomas is on her way to collect it. The irony is not lost on me at this point. That a certain Mary Thomas should be seeking a book about bereavement, and that I should happen to take the phonecall is too strange and unsettling to be true. It so happens that, ten minutes later, I speak with her as she arrives to look at the book.

She’s a lot older than she was in my head…but I suppose you do age, when you’re buried a while. I left her with the book and ran off. I tried explaining to a couple of my colleagues but I probably sounded insane. Do you believe in coincidence? I never have. So she probably wasn’t my poor, decrepit character, back from the dead and seeking revenge for what I had put her through, but still. Just another reminder of how weird and wonderful the world is.

I’d take it as some sort of sign, but for the life of me I can’t think what it could possibly mean. Don’t think about necrophilia so much, Sinéad. Yes, perhaps that’s it.

Welcome, one and all, to another year upon this Earth.

As previously mentioned, I only have ONE resolution this year. You can probably guess what it is.

BY THIS TIME NEXT YEAR, NO MATTER WHAT, COME RAIN OR SHAME SHINE, DO OR DIE TRYING, DESPITE WHAT I MAY SAY BETWEEN NOW AND THEN, EVEN IF IT KILLS ME, IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO, QUE SERA SERA,

I
WILL
FINISH
THAT
FUCKING
NOVEL!

This time next year, I will be sitting at this desk with a COMPLETED manuscript in my hands. I will do this. I have to do it. I have no excuses left. Even if the story is a bag of shite, I still will have finished it, and can move on to another (better?) project. I have to stop delaying this. I will gradually build up to this over January, the last month I shall be keeping this job, and then when February arrives…a flurry of activity. A tornado of punctuation. A barrage of re-drafting. THE END OF THE CHRONICLES OF NOM.

Six years, now. Six long fuckin’ years. It’s about time I wrapped this one up.

Anyway, to finish off 2009, I thought I would take a look at the books I read over the past twelve months. I’m not sure how exhaustive this list is: there are poetry books I’ve dipped in and out of, and reference books I’ve not intended to read all the way through, so I’ve left them off. This is the fiction I have read, I suppose.

SINÉAD’S MARGINALLY IMPRESSIVE BUT VERY LIMITED 2009 READING LIST:

• Vampire Hunter D: Volume XI – Pallen Fallen Angels Parts 1 & 2 (Hideyuki Kikuchi)
• The Tales of Beedle the Bard (J.K. Rowling)
• Deathnote: Another Note – The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases (Nisioisin)
• Equal Rites (Terry Pratchett)
• Mort (Terry Pratchett)
• Sourcery (Terry Pratchett)
• Wyrd Sisters (Terry Pratchett)
• The Dark Tower I: The Gunslinger (Stephen King)
• The Dark Tower II: The Drawing of the Three (Stephen King)
• The Dark Tower III: The Waste Lands (Stephen King)
• The Dark Tower IV: Wizard and Glass (Stephen King)
• The Dark Tower V: Wolves of the Calla (Stephen King)
• The Dark Tower VI: Song of Susannah (Stephen King)
• The Dark Tower VII: The Dark Tower (Stephen King)
• Pyramids (Terry Pratchett)
• American Gods (Neil Gaiman)
• The Fellowship of the Ring (JRR Tolkien)
• Good Omens (Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman)
• The Vampyre (Tom Holland)
• Supping With Panthers (Tom Holland)
• Guards! Guards! (Terry Pratchett)
• Tersias (G. P. Taylor)
• Deathnote: L – Change the WorLd (M)
• Eric (Terry Pratchett)
• The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde (R. L. Stevenson)
• The Weavers of Saramyr (Chris Wooding)
• The Vampyre (Polidori)
• Moving Pictures (Terry Pratchett)
• Dracula (Bram Stoker)
• Stephen King’s The Dark Tower: The Gunslinger Born (Marvel Graphic Novel)
• Stephen King’s The Dark Tower: The Long Road Home (Marvel Graphic Novel)

…there. Thirty one books, in total.

You can learn a lot about a person, based on what they read. For instance, you can see that I haven’t read a single book over the past year that wasn’t somehow a part of the sci-fi/fantasy genres. I think this is probably a bad thing. My writing is predominantly supernatural in nature, but I think if I really want to improve as an artist, I need to broaden my scope.

I can also see that I haven’t been able to go more than a few books without crawling back to Terry Pratchett. Nom is a lot like a Discworld novel, in some ways. He inspires me, and if I read something dark and provocative, I know I always have another Discworld book to pick up and lighten the mood. He will be crucial for me this year.

Stephen King dominates, of course. The more I read, the more I love his mind. The Dark Tower series is the best thing I have read all year, possibly the most important thing I have read thus far. I’m excited to think that he’s working on an eighth novel. I’m starting this year off with ’salem’s Lot, and I also have his latest novel, Under the Dome, to read, so I think at the end of 2010, King will also be a dominant presence on my reading list.

I’m happy with how much I’m reading recently; after a lull in which my mind got caught up in too many video games, I am finally back on track. I’m still going to play my games (currently still drudging through that tepid Kingdom Hearts title on the DS), but balance it more equally.

And, what do I want to read this year? Well, I want to try my hand at some literary fiction, that isn’t based within the paranormal. I don’t know if I’ll like it, but I’ll try. I don’t have any interest in crime fiction so I’ll steer clear of that…perhaps pick up the Kate Mosse (thankfully not the crackhead model) book my mum has been banging on about for years ago. Some titles I know I definitely want to read this year are:

• The Gormenghast Trilogy (Peake)
• The Historian (Kostova)
• The Night Watch (Lukyanenko)

All new authors to me. I’ll balance it out with as much Pratchett and King as I desire. There’s no harm in sticking to what you love.

Right, that’s all that’s kicking about my head right now. A happy new year to you, dear reader, and a prosperous twelve months. What unrealistic promises are you making, today?

“Sorrow, sank deep inside my blood,
all the ones around me
I cared for, and most of all I loved,
but I can’t see myself that way.
Please don’t forget me, or cry while I’m away.”

10th February 1981 – 28th December 2009

“It is with great sadness and heavy hearts that we tell you of the passing today of Jimmy “The Rev” Sullivan. Jimmy was not only one of the world’s best drummers, but more importantly he was our best friend and brother. Our thoughts and prayers go out to Jimmy’s family and we hope that you will respect their privacy during this difficult time.

Jimmy you are forever in our hearts.
We love you.

M Shadows, Synyster Gates, Zacky Vengeance and Johnny Christ.”

I meant to include this photo at the beginning of my last post, but forgot:

The frost pains me, but it sure is pretty in the mornings.

I hope you’ve all had a pleasant few days; I’ve enjoyed my Christmas. This year there has been no drama, no arguments, just carefully choreographed visits from the brothers (both have moved out now, which is pleasant) and lots of fun with the rabbits as they wrestle with the low-hanging branches of the Christmas tree. I’ve been reading this helpful website recently, and I think I’m gonna have a good go at bonding the two of them, when the New Year comes around.

Speaking of New Year, I should really start thinking of a costume for Lisa’s party. Every year we have some sort of get together, and this year fancy dress is on the menu. I fear Hallowe’en exhausted me creatively…whatever I make will surely pale in comparison. Maybe I’ll go down the Addams Family route and dress as a homicidal maniac: “they look just like everybody else”.

I’m excited for the New Year…there will be just the one resolution, this time around. I’ll save that for the day itself, I think.

I downloaded the six new tracks Taylor Swift put on the re-release of her Fearless album, yesterday. I don’t know why so many artists are doing that lately…just putting out the same record, with a few new tracks tacked on the end. Thank God for iTunes, and being able to just buy the songs seperately. Anyway, they’re really pretty songs. I especially like Untouchable at the moment, so yeah, check it out if you want something unashamedly girly to listen to. Jay (from work) also gave me Lady Gaga’s new songs, that appear on The Fame Monster (re-release of The Fame). Not gonna lie…a few of them are really, really good pop songs. Just a shame she’s such a flamboyant raging ego machine.

There was bound to be a deeper intended purpose for this blog, but I don’t remember what it was, so let’s just allow it to reach a natural end. The little rabbit is unsupervised in the living room at the moment, which doesn’t bode well, and I also need a shower before I go to bed tonight.

A belated Christmas greeting to you all, then.