It’s safe to say that as a unit, my immediate family is pretty close. I’ll quite happily put my hands up and admit that I am a complete and utter Mummy’s boy – for any comeback you may require to cheek about this, I refer you to my previous post and the cup of care. Do with it what you will.
Now as you can imagine, especially as we’ve gotten older and my Sister and I have became young adults, there have been the occasional fight, argument or Monopoly board that’s been flung across the room in a bout of sheer rage.
I’ll admit, that’s usually me…
There’s also a fair amount of practical jokes and tomfoolery, being the result of my Sisters inheritance of my Mum’s sense of humour. I mean seriously, I got everything else: the chronic neuroticism, worry and obsessive compulsive disorder. She got the wit, my Dad’s brains and his general laid back demeanour. Talk about drawing the short straw there? Oh, she’s also taller than me, and has been since I was about eight or nine.
Now, I had intended this latest entry to be my round-up of last year. My placement is drawing to a close a little more rapidly than I’d really like. I return to work following the Christmas break tomorrow morning, bright and early (and for the first time in 10 days, not hungover…) I’ve achieved a lot this last year, with the highlight (and the source of much stress in the 8 months that have followed its arrival) being my purchasing of a brand new Audi.
2012 will be the biggest year of my life so far, as it will for the rest of my colleagues, when we graduate from University in June/July time. A few family weddings and other occasions thrown in there, but it’s the most significant milestone of my life that I can think of right now. (Congratulations to Ellis and Amy in Sydney also, for getting engaged last year. Can’t wait for an Australian Lamond wedding in 2013!)
This also means that come July 14th, the date of my graduation, I’m going to have to wake up and become a man. As I still look and feel something of a small child (owed to the fact I’m a midget and still incapable of growing adequate facial hair) you can imagine that I’m finding it a difficult notion to comprehend.
So, my original intention for this was to make a few resolutions (in public) where I would then be forced to keep them. Enter the real reason I’m sitting up writing this at 12AM, rather than getting some much needed beauty sleep before my first day back at work tomorrow…
Just before Christmas, my Dad finally made the plunge and had some built-in stereo equipment fitted to our house. Perhaps the best (and only) good decision made by Stewart Milne when picking fittings for the Kepplestone houses (anyone heard the story about the flat with too many occupants??) the houses were all pre-wired for ceiling speakers and wall mounted TV’s etc. Being 16, and as technologically obsessed as I am now, you can imagine that I’ve been getting at him to have this stuff fitted to the house since we moved in. Five and a half years later, my Dad has proved he really has the patience of a saint…
To accompany it, naturally, I convinced him to throw in a few Apple Airport Express’, so we could wirelessly stream music from the multitude of Apple kit we’ve collected over the years.
I got one for Christmas which is wired into the back of my iPod speakers.Convenient, owed to the fact they will not charge my phone. Odd, because they’re the white iPod HiFi unit Apple themselves brought out a few years ago…
Now we get to the real reason I’m writing this, the incident which has formed the creative sand in my mouth from which this pearl of literary genius has formed. (I hope many of my close friends realise how gin-soaked in sarcasm that really was) It is not to form a resolution for myself, but one for my sister.
My family would have you all believe that I am the biggest pussy out there; and for the most part I’d agree. I talk the talk, but I’d never actually hit someone in the face. Come to mention it actually, and my friend Jane would concur, I seem to remember leaping several feet into the air during the first half of the last Harry Potter movie, where Nagini the snake launched herself up a flight of stairs during a fight with Harry in Godrics Hollow. A truly tense moment…
Before I continue, I want to make something clear: films don’t scare me. At age 11, whilst at a sleepover following the end of primary 7, being forced to sit through Jeepers Creepers would be enough to give many people nightmares. Who wants to watch a film, at that age, about some alien thing that eats folks organs to repair its own? Minus the fact that it’s entirely ridiculous, I seem to remember being particularly disturbed by the scene beneath the church at the start, where the main character finds two friends who had gone missing in the surrounding area, bound together and attached to the ceiling – one with their head removed and kindly stitched back on?!
Watching it now, I find it hilarious. Especially seeing it get up, having been ran over multiple times, and waddle off into the night for the concluding scene of the film. Moreover, it’s not the storyline itself that gets me, if anything does. Everyone falls into the same trap watching a scary film. The creepy music in the background, indicating the psycho killer/alien/robot/deformed Hillbilly is nearby and someone is about to get killed. There’s the stereotypical cheerleader/thick as shit American football player that always goes UP THE STAIRS/into the basement/whatever and then finds themselves in a rather sticky situation: usually involving their Achilles tendon being slashed or a sharp object pushed through their chest. Either way, you know they’re going to die.
All these devices are used by crappy horror film producers to do one thing: create some ‘dramatic tension.’ Tacky and easy, they never resort to clever plot-lines or character development in the way a true writer would.
I always fall for it…hook line and sinker. Hence my knee-jerk reaction to Nagini or the bit in Friday 13th when one of them pulls Jason’s mothers shrunken head from a hole above the bath in their house and many other such similar and frankly ludicrous events. I usually make some kind of involuntary noise and accompany it with a nervous twitch of some description; the folk sitting next to me always get a good kick out of it too…
Outwith that however, scary films really don’t bother me. In fact, if I’m having a movie night with a friend (usually Hannah) I’d rather sit and watch something like Silence of the Lambs; something which gets inside your head, makes you think, or for that feeling you get down your spine when Lecter says this:
Fufufufufufufufufufufufufufufufufu…gets me every time!
So, I can sit through something like that, and many others beside it. The Excorcist was perhaps the funniest film I’ve seen in a long time. Again, I sat in with Hannah one night and watched it. Not sure if it was the crappy 1970’s effects or the bottle of Montepulciano we consumed during it, but I failed to see the scary side of it? If I want to sit in at night and have a good laugh, it usually involves a scary film; I appear to have became immune to them as I’ve gotten older and they’re usually my first choice.
The point I’m trying to make here, and believe it or not there has been a method behind all the rambling that came before this, is that it actually takes quite a lot to scare me. Sudden shock however, will get me pretty damn easily.
A fact which my sister has come to capitalise on in recent years. I cannot begin to tell you the number of times she has snuck upstairs ahead of me going to bed, hidden behind my bed/in my wardrobe/in the linen cupboard next to my bathroom, and waited for me to walk past. She then jumps out, scares the living shit out of me (because who would be expecting it? Although I realise now the answer to that question is me…) then run off downstairs cackling like a psycho on day release.
In many ways, the noise she makes gives her the appearance of more serious instability than my old buddy Lecter up there ^^ . Actually, I’d put her more akin to Miggs, the crazy haired psycho in the cell next to him.
Worryingly enough for Emily, if that likeness is anything to go by, she needs to take care. Lecter is calculating, and following an incident involving Clarice on a visit to Lecter early in Silence of the Lambs, Miggs finds himself choking on his own tongue.
Hardly pleasant. Fortunately the viewer doesn’t need to witness that. The decision to include the moment where he flings a particular male body fluid through the bars of his cell and onto Clarices face however, leaves a lot to be desired…
Now: Emily. As you may recall, and I don’t blame you if you don’t, I can see this will need rather a lot of editing over lunchtime tomorrow, you’ll remember I’ve got an Airport Express unit in my room now? Well, Emily thought it would be fun to start playing some Killswitch Engage through it. Those of you unfamiliar with them can see an example below:
That may, or may not, be the song she blasted into my room this morning, at 12.30…AM! I cannot confirm this however, as it all sounds the same to me: shite. Hardly a pleasant experience anyway.
Having since password protected the unit in my room to prevent further instances of this from occurring, I’ve been contemplating a potential retaliation for this. I must tread carefully however. In Silence of the Lambs, Lecter is rewarded by his ‘doctor’ by having the lights in his cell turned off when he is alone, the removal of drawings which he has been working on and the addition of a television set on the other side of his glass wall airing a preacher; a form of torture any sociopath would shy away from.
I had a brainwave however. Emily and I are chalk and cheese when it comes to sleep: I don’t get enough, she does. Many arguments in my house arise from my Sisters nocturnal habits, from her thundering past my room at 3AM following a session of burning the candle at both ends, to my parents thundering past every Saturday morning to wake her up because (yet again) it’s 9.15, she’s still asleep and she starts work at 9.30…
Then again, if you agree to work for your Mother, you have to pull your finger out.
I’m a morning person on the other hand. Means I don’t sleep past about 8.30 in the morning though, and that’s a nightmare when one is suffering from one too many voddies after the night before. It would be nice on a Saturday, the one day of the week this last year where I’ve not had to get up and answer to anyone, to at least have the opportunity of a long lie. Something I’ve been denied every week since placement started at the end of last January.
Emily is still on holiday however, and won’t be getting up before midday tomorrow. Or so she thinks. Unfortunately, my technical knowledge of her stereo system is a little greater than hers. Little does she know that I’ve got Sak Noel on stand by for an impromptu wake up call tomorrow morning at 7.25AM, 5 minutes before I leave the house for the office. Oh, and the volume’s been cranked right up for said spectacle also…
Now, I’ve pre-warned my Ma, so she knows to expect it, as I imagine that she will hear it pretty clearly from her end of the house. Whether or not it wakes up my sister however, is another question. I’ll be waiting outside her bedroom door, to make sure she gets up. Nae doot I’ll just jump on her bed before I leave, cackling wildly as I run out the front door as she undoubtedly chases me down the stairs…
Rise and shine sleeping beauty!