I Spilled Someone's Blood, I Broke Someone's Heart Again, Someone You Know, You're Looking At Him My Friend

Thanks for the pointer that my blog had corrupted. That's the second time that particular post has gone like that, it did it the other day and dumped somebody elses blog all over what I wrote. I wouldn't have minded so much, but scanning it I saw the phrase "but we love Jews really" in the text. Eeep! Why it keeps corrupting at mention of the words 'student union' I don't know. Keep an eye out for any random anti-Semite intrusions later on today when I post this.

I think people have assumed that I don't care and that I make major decisions easily, without regret or reflection. That isn't me; that isn't the person who risks mental illness by replaying the decisions of his life over and over again until he's led awake at 4am, staring at the wall and wondering why his thoughts can't align with the people he cares about.

Anyway, apologies to John, sorry The Phantom Poster, for not acknowledging his visit on Sunday. He only stayed five minutes, as he hates me really, but I appreciated it.

Wednesdays don't happen often. Not any old Wednesday, they happen once a week. No, Wednesdays like this Wednesday aren't that frequent. In fact I can't recall any Wednesday before that has had me giddy with excitement, crushed with disappointment, confused, scared, elated and completely lost for words. There was the whole Wednesday when we had the zombie holocaust I suppose, but that technically hasn't happened yet, as it happens in the future.

We decided to watch the game in The Old Black Bull, mainly because Chris had decided he didn't want to watch it in Roper Hall. The atmosphere was okay, and a bit surreal at the end, but I'll always think that the grass may have been greener elsewhere.
It started badly, and by half-time I felt a sense of disappointment I've rarely felt before; yeah, I have been disappointed before, but this felt like I'd been cheated out of something. I'd been excited about the final for weeks and now it felt mildly embarrassing, and that the team I loved was being shown up and humiliated. I felt mildly angry, protective about what is just a football team, and as deflated as all the balloons in a balloon factory that has had to close due to the sluggish consumer market. And then the factory has been demolished, with the balloons inside, their sadness magnified by the fact that they were the worlds first sentient balloons, with manufactured tear ducts shedding rubber scented tears down past their un-inflated logos congratulating somebody's 21st birthday.
I wasn't happy.
But happiness, and disbelieving happiness at that, is only magnified and made sweeter if they happen from a point of sadness. If you can go from feeling utterly defeated to feeling on top of the world in just over an hour then that is happiness indeed.
I spent most of the second half and extra-time with my hands on my head (for comfort) and staring unblinkingly at the TV screen. I still can't fully comprehend what happened.
Alex phoned at full-time, and we blurted out some words before the noise prevented anything more. Heh, I love you Alex, you big old oddbod.

Sorry if this blog has been ridden with moaning, hyperbole or randomness lately. The emotions that bubble under the surface constantly, keep making escape attempts. I hate it when that happens, as if a breakout occurs, my first thought is to question the validity of the escapees, even if their demands are perfectly reasonable. Damn my northern working-class upbringing! Damn being a bloke! To Hades with you!