No music. No one to talk to.

Bad day.

Argh.

Very frustrated Ian.

Very frustrated Ian wants random conversation.

Preferably with female company. Talking to boys makes him oh so tired.

Yes, very frustrated Ian needs to be talked to by a high personality at the very least.

Hmmmmm

Something or someone that will make him forget his bloody nose for a while.

BLOODY HELL.

CAN'T SING, CAN'T PLAY A SONG, CAN'T EAT PROPERLY, CAN'T THINK PROPERLY, CAN'T LISTEN TO MUSIC, CAN'T TALK TO ANYONE. WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY.

Zzt, I'll go talk to someone.

On a side note, I really hate my nose. Whenever it goes off like this its always too either too hot or too cold.

*CHOO*

Just another starstruck (see above for evidence*) wanderer trying to find his way in this horribly confusing and sometimes messed up world.

This space as you might have realised is for my own venting. It's where I talk, to myself. To the universe. It's where I don't lie. Much. Chances are you won't get more truth out of me than these few billion pages of angst.

My life isn't that bad. Sometimes. The good parts just usually end up being the blank dates in between the posts you see. So yes, just to practice my math and to cheer myself up a little, the number of posts is inversely proportional to my mental wellbeing. Yes that counts as math with me.

And despite the wry smile on my face and the grin I can imagine on yours, I'm still rather sombre.

I promise you I'm sunny somedays. Stick around. You never know what you may learn.

*hint may or may not be in big black font at the top of the page.