Sometimes on nights like tonight when I can’t sleep, I remember how much I miss being a kid.

I remember when I was younger and it’s frustrating how difficult things are in comparison to how they were when I was around 14. School was an absolute train wreck and I had so many problems but now I’d trade all my current problems to go back. I hate admitting it but they really were right when they told me I’d kiss my days in school.

I’m 18 now, and I guess you could say I’m happy. I just managed to get into college with the few qualifications my school provided me with and I’ve come a hell of a long way, I’ve been accepted to university unconditionally and my music is getting heard.

Things are good, but I’ll never stop missing being a child. Pretending to be anything I wanted with my friends made me feel carefree and gave me a sense of control over what I could do with my imagination. Now the only thing I pretend to be is happy, and not stressed out about college. I miss the experiences of being a kid, my first kiss, learning to play the guitar; everything seemed simple and every memory I have of then had the sun shining.

Why is it that the sun is always shining in happy memories when I know they weren’t on sunny days?

I guess things are improving though, my music gets more views, my YouTube is slowly growing, and my general happiness is improving slowly but surely.

I’m not sure why I’m sharing this information, I guess it just beats bothering my friends with depressing monologues.

Love you guys,

– James

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Tales of a guitar DIY kit Chapter 1

So to cut lots of rambling and utterly useless bollocks short, college bought a DIY guitar kit and asked me to design a nice paint job, assemble and wire it.

I began with the larger strokes, taking chunks out of a peice of pine from my old bed.

the image above shows the graceful transition of a furniture piece to the neck of an instrument that many new melodies will be birthed from.

Moving on to the box itself, it had to be reinforced with blocks of wood seeing as it was only tacked together when it was made for the purpose of carrying chances of lung cancer.

The neck goes all the way though the body with the lid glued shut to make sure it was as strong as possible.

frets were then applied carefully to extremely precise measurements. PVA had to be used due to the weak nature of pine.

The nut is to be crafted out of walnut and the next step will be chrome hardware.

follow if you haven’t already ♥

Night guys,

~James

Emotional rant.

Ever since I can remember I’ve just wanted those friends like you see in 80s movies and TV, inseperable, there for eachother no matter what and just stick around and love you unconditionally.

I grew up with the misconception that I could earn that over time, moving around schools a lot I didn’t meet any friends in school until I was about 12. All I wanted was for someone to get closer to me and not be repulsed by how different I am, I’ve had several people along the way who Ive sworn were going to be there to watch me grow up, grow up with me and help me through the aches and pains that life would now be laboriously presenting me with.

But now I’m that bit older it just feels like that friends like that just don’t exist outside of the movies.

This was a 2am emotional rant. No I don’t want to talk about it, yes I’m feeling better now, hope you guys are good.

An Abandoned Prayer

The abandoned prayer lost in the shadows of silence,

Engulfed in the fire of a mind,

Few sacred words that none else shall hear,

Drowned in the sea of a conscience,

If these words should surface amongst the sand,

Washed by the waves of change,

Then treat them well and keep them safe,

Because you’ll never hear them again.

Anniversary of my creation.

Today marks 18 years since I was finally rolled off the production line and shipped out to a loving family. I came with my software bugs and some hardware issues, but I’ve fought them head on and will continue to do so.

I might not be the most attractive model available, I might not have that much memory or processing speed, and even though I’m sometimes likely to crash and need a reboot, I know I can do anything if I put in the hard work and stop blogging at 1AM.

Even though I know they won’t see it I’d like every one who wished me a happy birthday that I’m truly grateful.

I hope you’re all having a good daytime cycle.

~James

So about those old people, huh?

I think we need to interact with old people more. For one it might change their thoughts on us rotten kids, secondly they hold a whole world of knowledge that you just can’t find on the internet.

Old people are like a past generation Google but for experience rather than knowledge. You can learn so much from our older generation, whenever I can I’ll ask my grandad what life was like after the war when he was growing up, he might not remember all of it but it’s interesting to hear his stories.

I’d much rather hear war stories and memories of other people than play them in unrealistic recreations in games.* I don’t think we give enough thought to what life was like before our times when such monumental events took place before we were even thought of.

Personally I’d have LOVED to have been around for the big dirty punk movement of the 70’s and 80’s, but I can get a pretty close approximation of how it must have felt by talking to someone who lived through it from different perspectives. Your mom and dad would probably see these events much more differently to their parents.

Admittedly old people can be a little bit racist, homophobic and very questionable on certain similar issues, so don’t take everything they say as gospel if you’re one of the people whose grandad has an interesting opinion on “the Blacks” or “the gays”, I recommend talking about something else before he goes into another 3 hour rant about immigration.

*- yes Call of Duty, I’m looking at you.

Overall, I think our elders deserve a lot more credit and appreciation, but I’m just a big fan of stories, so that’s just me.

Hope you’re all having a great Saturday, 

~James 

RIP Chester Bennington

About 12 minutes ago my girlfriend texted me about the tragic timing of Linkin Park front man, Chester Bennington.

A man who I owe a big part of my life of music to. Linkin Park was one of the first bands I ever got in to as a kid, just having seen Transformers for the first time and having Linkin Park stuck in my head, I’d download their songs from sites continously onto my phone because I couldn’t afford CD’s but needed to feel like I had their music with me where I went.

It is said that Chester had committed suicide, from hanging himself. I think anyone reading this should be reminded that they are never alone and things will always get better if you let them.  The saddest part about suicide is that people do it when they feel there was no other option. Chester was a very successful, and very talented man, so whatever had brought this on must have been pretty heavy, He was also close with Chris Cornell of soundgarden, who took his own life in May.

He is said to have struggled for years with alcohol and drug abuse, and has talked in the past about suicide as a result of being a victim of abuse as a child.

-BBC

When somebody like this commits suicide, i think it’s always good to remind people that they’re never alone. If you feel that way, speak up about it, don’t be ashamed to ask for help because you’ll come out better. Suicide doesn’t end the chances of life getting worse, suicide eliminates the chances of life getting better.

My heart goes out very deeply to Chester’s wife, his 6 children and an entire world of people who suffered the loss of a true legend.

All the best,
~James

Me and my stepdad.

So my mum has been seeing my stepdad for around 8 years now and it’s only in recent years I’ve realised exactly how much of a complete arsehole he is. He’s one of those people who EXPECTS you to do a job because he’s an adult and apparently that merits some kind of award and makes everyone under 18 his personal litter box to shit on.

He just demands respect from people not actually realising that respect doesn’t work that way, that’s not respect; it’s fear, the exact opposite. He’ll go on about how I can do half a job (but all of what he’s told me to do) and yet won’t even thank me for doing it. He’ll go on about “if I was in the real world” or “in a real job”, yeah well if I was in a real job I’d be getting paid and wouldn’t just be expected to do a job for someone I don’t even work for.

Today’s problem is my room, apparently. Because somehow it’s the bane of his existence if a room in a house he doesn’t even live in, isn’t up to his unrealistic minimalist standards.

The only reason I can think of that’d make him want me to clean my room is so his 2 braincells don’t get distracted when he barges in to tell me to do more jobs he won’t appreciate or thank me for.

This rant was brought to you by my tendency to express anger creatively rather than keeping it inside me.

Hope you’re all having wonderful days.