Exactly what I need.

See you there!

Linklinklink.

Yes, I’m going to have a pick a suitable career to pursue.

For most people, this is a relatively easy process. They know exactly what interests them and a suitable career is practically waiting for them. For me, however, choosing a potential job has so far evaded me. I think it’s the immensity of the task at hand: Imagine deciding now (at age 16) on something that I’ll have to do every day for the rest of my life. Or, at least until I retire. That’s around 50 years of doing exactly the same task. Day in day out. Without fail.

How can I possibly make that decision?

My plan has always been to just carry on studying subjects I love and eventually a career will come out of that. In the meantime, though, it’s always nice to seriously consider a future profession.

There are a lot of things I’d like to be, like an Architect, for example. That requires 7 years of training. That’s 7 years of debt: Living off grants and student loans.

Maybe not.

Well, how about becoming a Choclatier? That sounds fun, it’s always appealed to me. You train on the job and earn ~£10,000 afterwards. Hmm. I may as well just get a job at Asda, because I couldn’t live off that, it just doesn’t suit my lifestyle.

And then it occurred to me, why not adjust my lifestyle to suit a career? I could take a leaf out of the Downsizers‘ book (or website, in this case) and live much more simply. I’d still have the things I need (i.e. a roof) and the things I enjoy (i.e. Internet access and a mobile phone) but I’d have much more modest lifestyle. Who needs a solid 24kt gold Donkey statue in their lounge? Me neither. It would be awesome, but it’s hardly a necessity.

Still, I fretted about the outcome of my life. Panic set in. I must decide, the sooner the better.

It was then that another idea hit me: I’ve got no need to worry about choosing a career because I’ve been doing it right all along. I’ve been doing exactly the thing that matters. I’ve been doing what I enjoy. A career will find me… eventually.

Recently, I witnessed a few teenage girls fawn over Katie Price. If you don’t know about ‘Jordon’, here’s a quick round-up: She’s the most vacuous, vicious, inane, attention-grabbing, self-centred, hard-faced ‘business woman’ you’ve ever seen baring all on the cover of The Daily Star. I detest her and all she stands for with every particle of my being. To use the common phrase, she’s a skank, and very public about it.

Every morsel of her life is built around the media. She’s in every paper with a different man, resulting in her divorce which is, of course, equally heavily publicised. She’s famous for being a celebrity and utterly talentless.

Anyway, back to those girls. They were in awe of her heavily publicised life, of how she manages to get photographed doing the most mundane things. They think that her ‘career’ built upon flashing her breasts in public and appearing in I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here is something to strive towards. It’s a dream. The dream.

Imagine being famous just for being famous.

They even (and this is the bit that gets me really furious) talked about how intelligent she was. Admittedly, she’s clever enough to manipulate the media and general public to her advantage, but certainly not clever enough to write a book. It’s pretty much common knowledge that a Rebecca Farnworth (as a ghost-writer) wrote Katie Price’s non-fiction books, however this fact seems to have passed by these girls. They think that she wrote the books by herself, and that she spews talent out of her every orifice. Don’t you think it’s wrong that someone can act as a role model to young girls when their life consists of boob jobs and big fat lies? How can she get away with receiving the credit for something she hasn’t even done?

More and more children, when asked, want to be ‘famous’. Not actors or musicians or models. Just famous, and I think it’s people like Katie Price that give them these false hopes. Very few people are famous and talentless, but most of those who are only got there because of famous connections. Paris Hilton, for example. If acting is perceived as an unachievable dream, why is ‘fame’ not considered equally, if not more, so?

It annoys me that some parents fail to teach their children that being a celebrity is not ‘all that’, that vanity isn’t everything and that there’s more to life than quick, easy cash. Unfortunately, we’ve moved beyond the point where Fairy Tales with vague morals will instil a sense of respect, understanding and care in our children.

We must look past our celebrity culture and realise there’s more to life than fame.

If you haven’t read any of my posts before, go back and do it! Honestly, you’ll feel better afterwards. Also, sorry if your IQ drops by a few points. That happens sometimes.

Now, I want to start with something simple: Summer. All attempts to get a job have evaded me thus I have a lot of free time. No school. No exams. No stress. Ahhhhhh. I, of course, spend a lot of time reading. I also (now this is truly a shocker) spend a lot of time on the internet. However, when I’m not doing either I don’t have a lot to do. So, I was thinking that you may be able to help me.

What do you do to pass time? How do you waste summer? Is your life exciting?

Comment and let me know! I have (almost) 5 weeks to waste till I start College and it’d be nice to enjoy every moment of that time.

Speak tomorrow!

P.S. I plan to get back into web development/design and I want to set up a Terrarium. #i’msuchageek

P.P.S. It’s a good summer for my Cacti. I have 17 little seedlings that will be ready for re-potting in a few months. Exciting!

Twice in a week my friends and I have been approached by adults making snide comments and ridiculous accusations. Did you know that swinging on a swing can break it? That’s a fact directly from a man who said (and I quote) “I’m 64 years old and I know just how to deal with people like you“. You know it’s reliable.

On Thursday, my friends and I were sat on a swing when a woman came over. She introduced herself with “I’m sure you want to spend all day on there, but this is a children’s park after all”. That was when I knew I wasn’t going to get on with the woman.

Now, I’ll be honest: Some of the toys on the park are certainly meant for children (for example, things like this) however some of the toys you just wouldn’t trust a child on. There’s a big green spinny thing (technical term) that I can barely reach. Now, no parent worth their salt would stick a five year old on that. “Hold on Timmy” you hear them yell as the named child flies through the air and lands in a bush. It’s for that reason that you could hardly label this park ‘for children’.

Anyway, I digress. The woman demanded for us to move and made out we weren’t welcome. If she wanted us to move so she/her children could get on the swing, all she had to was ask. Snide comments and a rude tone aren’t welcome and are certainly not needed. Of course Teenagers are going to respond rudely to you if you treat them like shit. Treat others as you wish to be treated yourselves, so they say.

Then, two days ago a man approached a bunch of people my age swinging on the very same swing. You could feel the tension in the park as everybody watched him tell them off. I’ve still no idea what caused him to start, and the confrontation that continued for a good ten minutes consisted of him shouting “the kids of today!” repeatedly. And there was me thinking only hypothetical stereotypes actually said that.

We watched this man leave the park and called the group of rather harassed looking people over. One of the girls (remember we are all 15 & 16) told us that he wanted them to get off the swing in case they broke it by swinging too vigorously. Vigorous. Swinging. What a load of shite.

The man returned a moment later, followed by his dogs (not on a leash in a park- they could damage the grass with their vigorous walking) claiming to have rang the police.

Yes, a man rang the police because some children were playing in a park. I know, we’re terrible people for committing such a heinous act.

He told us off a bit more now (we stood in a group now, so he was telling me off as well as the other teenagers) and I asked him to clarify what the problem was. He responded with “There was eight children on that the other day and it’s already been broken once before!” Fair enou… wait, what?!  He told us all to “grow up!” (I can’t wait to be like him) before stomping off, stomping back and squaring up to one of the boys. “The youth of today”, “how dare you”, “you grow up”, “don’t you laugh at me”, “I know how to deal with people like you”. Crazy Old Man then left. For real this time.

I later discovered he was heading to the local school to report us for swinging on the swing. I guess he didn’t trust the police to punish us properly.

I guess what I’m saying is give teenagers a chance. They’re only bad people if you read The Sun and believe what it says. Be polite, trust us and we’ll be polite right back.

This my friend, is the best thing since sliced bread. Enjoy!

You see, this is where the turbo-consuming society comes into it. If you have little money you can’t contribute because you can’t buy and if you’re not buying, you’re not functioning in the way we and the system tell you to. As a person raised in an all-consuming society my idea of poor is having little money and I imagine that’s the way it’ll stay for the remainder of my life. Some people may even regard my family and myself to be poor,  but despite this, in the last 18 months I bought a new camera (£250), an MP3 player (£80), a graphics tablet (£70) and a new coat (£70) yet I still want more because it isn’t fulfilling. I’m lead to believe it is but with every purchase and I’m left wanting more, more, more. Every shop contains things I want but do not need. I have a wish-list the length of my arm (or perhaps even longer) and I just can’t help but buy, buy, buy because it’s who I am. In essence, I am the sum of my possessions because without them I feel like nothing.

I want to work so I can earn so I can buy and then work more so I can buy a bigger house to fill with my possessions.I, like most people, will then work some more to pay off the mortgage so I can’t even enjoy the house or my car or my boat or whatever other extravagant, superfluous items I’ve purchased.

Despite this, how can I change? What will I do on a Saturday? There’s a shopping centre just down the road and occasionally I’ll go, I’ll look round and then I’ll add more things to the infamous wish-list after walking past far more shop fronts than necessary because of the cunningly disorienting way it has been laid out. In the Trafford Centre, you can’t just go from shop to shop, you have to walk past endless rows of identical looking columns until you reach a set of steps identical to every other set of steps, only to realise you’re back where you started. How is that possible? I’ve only been past three shops… Or was it four? And did I walk past the food court? Oh wait, was that the Apple store? I’ve not been past that yet. Oh look at the iMacs. Shiny. They’re not even overpriced, I’ll take two! Bargain!

Afterwards, I come home, I watch TV, I see adverts. I browse the internet on one of my brand new iMacs and again I see adverts. I want, want, want because that’s just the way it is. For me, it’s the only way it’s ever been. For those of you born before Margaret Thatcher’s reign, you’ll remember life before businesses where privatised so prices could be lowered so we could buy more with our wages that didn’t yet exist because the children in China now had our jobs. Oh look, an offer for a loan. Let’s borrow the money because at least that way we can pay the bills.

With the lowering of prices and the outsourcing of jobs it meant large companies could continue to get larger and more profitable and the rich could get richer. They used this excess wealth (though they don’t see it as so) to create new markets and new products  with which they could tempt us and tease us until we gave in and paid up and thus we become poorer and they become richer, richer, richer.

On the subject of rich vs. poor, the UN estimate that if the 225 richest people in the world were to donate just 4% of their wealth, every child in poverty could be given equipment, clothes, food and a decent education. What a simple solution to one of life’s greatest problems. Why not just introduce a mandatory, one-off tax for these people. Problem? What problem? That was solved years ago. (If only.)

Why not?

Here’s why: The rich (which, coincidentally, includes most of those in power) don’t see it as their duty to help the poor because, at the end of the day, they earned their money fairly and legally without any help from the ‘undeserving poor’. Who cares about those who got trampled on your way to the top. They’d do the same in that position, right? All hail Maggie Thatcher. Blah blah blah.Your arguament is irrelevant.

So what do we do? What can we do? It seems like there’s no solution and I guess this is just the way of life. For me, it’s the only way of life there’s ever been and it’s likely it’s the only way life that I’ll ever see. But, as individuals, we can make our change and do our part. I suggest buying local, supporting people who count and living for your community because even if society won’t change, we should.

I really recommend this book and expect more posts like this in the future after I’ve finished reading No Logo, Waste and The World Without Us.

I guess you’re wondering what Pasta Pie is. For me, it’s a combination of my two favourite things: Pasta and pie. For you, it’s all the popular Italian meals (Lasagne, Spaghetti Bolognese, Pizza) mixed with Wigan’s finest- the pie. you’ve stil not got a clue, have you?

The recipe has this striking combination of fiddliness and simplicity. One minute, you’re stacking cooked rigatoni, the next, you’re grating cheese. But, this post is not supposed to be about me chatting up the food, it’s my way of making changes and suggestions.

Let’s get started.

The  Original Recipe is very good and it’s mostly through my own stupidity that I’ve come up with a few changes. Firstly, there’s the cooking technique. The recipe recommends 15 minutes, then add the cheese, then cook again for another 15. I mis-read this originally and instead added the cheese straight away and cooked for just 20 minutes, 10 less than recommended and with the cheese on all the way through. However, I found this much more to my taste because the meat sauce was still liquidy and everything was a much more preferable consistency.

On the topic of meat sauce, I’d also recommend the addition of some herbs. I just chose to use an Italian Herbs Mix but it’s entirely up to you

I also found that once the pasta was arranged (a surprisingly therapeutic task) filling each hole with meat sauce was ridiculously difficult. There are two problems:  The meat pieces are too large and the sauce is hot, so you can’t prod it with your fingers. I’ve yet to master the technique, so if you try this recipe and work out how to do it, let me know.

There’s a step in the recipe that requires you to toss the pasta in oil and parmesan cheese. I found that placing it in a large bowl covered with cling film is an ideal way to do it because it means no spillage and, thus, no mess. Plus, you can let your kids do it (or your Sister, or Husband or whatever).

One of the most vital things needed in the recipe is a springform tin. If you don’t have one, this recipe is impossible. However, to make the removal of the slices even easier, place the base of the tin upside down so that the ridge (which will make sliding the pie slices out difficult) is on the bottom and the pie is lying on an entirely flat base. This way, on you’ve removed the sides and sliced it up (if I could, I’d just cut it in half and eat one part for myself, leaving the rest for my family to fight over) you can simply slip a cake slice underneath and serve it up- easy.

I’d like to point out that this recipe is pretty popular, but the Noble Pig version is by far the best on the internet (unless you want a healthier version) and I’d recommend it to anyone. Of course I would, I’m recommending it to you right now.

Lastly, another cat gif. Enjoy.

In preparation for my exams, a teacher at my school suggested I get up at a reasonable hour, get the revision out of the way and then enjoy my time off. My head-of-year took this information and ran with it, suggesting (and this is where it gets good) that I get up at my normal time, get dressed and live like it’s a normal school day. So, for example, I’d get up at 7 and start my revision at 8:45. Yesterday I’d have done two hours of English followed by a 20 minute break. I’d then do 2 hours of Science revision and have a 45 minute break for lunch. After that? PDL. Pupil Development Lesson. The subject where ever Teachers can’t be bothered. Nobody ever learned anything in PDL. It’s a replacement for Citizenship, and nobody ever learned anything in that, either. Guess what? I got 38/46 in the mock exam because it’s so ridiculously easy.

Anyway, I digress. She actually wanted us to sit down and live our school day. Like we’re in school. What drugs is she on? Even if I wanted to do 5 hours of revision a day I couldn’t because of Easter school. Yes. Easter School.

Guess what days I’m in? Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday both weeks. Of my 10 days off, I’m in school for 6. Six days in school.

Joy of all joys.