You know that moment when you're waiting for a really important email...that.
I will be honnest, the only reason I'm writing this particular post in the passenger seat of my dad's car, is too take my mind off that important email. Actually, if I ever need to take my mind off things, I tend to write or do something creative.
Today I've been thinking about life, and I've come to this conclusion:
In reality, we are just a tiny bunch of dust, carbon and oxygen, that clings on too a rock thats blasting around a giant ball of gas at 67,062mph.
Oh, and that little blue rock that we are riding on is joined by other spinning rocks and gas giants which all orbit around the sun in a perfect clockwork ballet.
The powerhouse that we all fly around is joined by other shining powerhouses that all together take a comsmic carousel the dark unknown void at the centre of our galaxy
And this galaxy is part an incredably huge cosmos of countless other galaxy's of which we are yet, if we are even able, to put a number too
We are here by pure chance, so many different events happened at just the right time, to give us this little haven in the void of space. All it would of taken for us to have never existed, was one tiny chemical reaction to not happen.
The point I'm trying to make is this. We are undeniably small(and lucky), yet we think we are something bigger and that make us incredibly dangerous.
And just like our journey upto this point, it only take one tiny thing to wipe us all out So please, if your reading this, don't ruin it, we've only got one shot.
Sunday 27 January 2013
Sunday 20 January 2013
Professor Brian Cox, Alex Day and Sex
I have no idea what I want to write, I am at that stage where I've got quite a few ideas, but I don't think that any of them are good enough.
I could very easily post a rant about I hate bias right wing media, but I am sure that there are many other bloggers and writers who have done it better then I could ever hope to do. I really want to do a series of posts about the planets in our solar system, but Professor Brian Cox has done it so much better then I have. (I'm pretty sure he is a time lord, no human could be that intelligent.) I'd love to write about my favorite books, but I'm worried that I'd end up not doing the books any justice and alienating the authors.
That's my problem, I'm always worried about what other people are saying about me and the stuff that I do. I know I shouldn't worry but I think its something that all humans do, the exception to that rule is Alex Day (a.k.a Nerimon) who really doesn't seem to care what you think, he just does what he wants to do, and tells the internet about that time his mother heard him having sex and then complemented him on his stamina the next morning, I wish I could be a bit more open.
So I've made a decision, I no longer care what you think, I am going to be more like myself because I'm pretty sure that life becomes that little bit more fun when I start doing this.
I could very easily post a rant about I hate bias right wing media, but I am sure that there are many other bloggers and writers who have done it better then I could ever hope to do. I really want to do a series of posts about the planets in our solar system, but Professor Brian Cox has done it so much better then I have. (I'm pretty sure he is a time lord, no human could be that intelligent.) I'd love to write about my favorite books, but I'm worried that I'd end up not doing the books any justice and alienating the authors.
That's my problem, I'm always worried about what other people are saying about me and the stuff that I do. I know I shouldn't worry but I think its something that all humans do, the exception to that rule is Alex Day (a.k.a Nerimon) who really doesn't seem to care what you think, he just does what he wants to do, and tells the internet about that time his mother heard him having sex and then complemented him on his stamina the next morning, I wish I could be a bit more open.
So I've made a decision, I no longer care what you think, I am going to be more like myself because I'm pretty sure that life becomes that little bit more fun when I start doing this.
Saturday 19 January 2013
Peter The Plane
There is a note at the bottom of this post that explains this story
Peter The Plane
By Thomas Sanderson.
Every little plane dreams of flying high in the sky, soaring in the clouds and gliding with the birds. This dream was no different for Peter, he wanted to be the fastest of all the planes, but there was one problem, he didn't known how to.
Every day after school, he would go to runway 32 and try taking off, but just as he gets on the runway, the big jets land from out of nowhere and their loud engines really really scare Peter.
"You cannot fly, your just a silly little plane" said Ryan, Ryan was the nastiest of the Jets, He would pick on peter for no reason, Peter never understood why, Peter did not do anything to make Ryan nasty.
All he wanted to do is to be friends with all the other planes but every time those big Jets land, Peter gets really scared and rushes back to his hanger
A few days later, Peter tries again, he finishes school and goes back to runway 32 but as every other day, those nasty Jets would land just as Peter gets to the runway.
"Oh, look there's that silly little peter again, with his stupid little wings" mocks Jake, another one of the nasty Jets. Soon three other jets were picking on him, they were poking and prodding him, call him names and making Peter feel really really horrible.
The Jets had scared Peter so much that he was too frighted to go back to the runway, but he still wanted to fly.
A few days later, Peter looks up into the sky and sees a different plane, it was flying so fast that he nearly falls backwards, this was the kind of plane that Peter wanted to be, yet Peter had never seen this plane before, this new plane was much older then all of the other planes, and yet The Jets left him alone.
When the new plane landed, he saw Peter hide away. Wondering why peter was so afraid, the old plane, goes over to Peter. Suddenly it dawned on Peter, this old plane was a spitfire.
Spitfires are the fastest, quickest and most agile off all the planes, they are legendary, but peter always thought that the Spitfires no longer existed, and yet there was one right there in front of him. Peter does not know what to do, He cowered up and his landing tires started shaking out of fear of what this spitfire was going to say to him.
"Hello, are you alright there" asked The Spitfire
Peter was almost too frighted to say anything. The Spitfire was the most fantastic airplane that Peter had ever seen in his life, everything about The Spitfire was perfect, the way The Spitfire flew high in the sky, the sun reflecting off it's wings, the shine of the green paint, the proud but wise stature that The Spitfire held it's self in. While Peter was standing in amazement at this Sight. The Spitfire talks;
"My Name is Phillip, whats yours." Peter summoned up all of his courage form the depths of his engines and very nervously replied with,
"I'm...P-P-P Peter, c-c-c-can you t-t-t-teach me to fly like that"
"I thought you would already know how to fly, seeing as though you are a young Spitfire." Chuckled Philip
Peter could not believe his ears, In front of him was a Spitfire, and that this spitfire is telling him that he was one of them, this was Peters dream, all along he had wanted to be a Spitfire, and yet, he already was one, he just didn't know it. Just as he is trying to bring himself back together, he catches a glimpse of him self in the glass of the airport, were Peter's eyes deceiving, was he really this beautiful looking machine, with wings that reflect the suns and green paint that shines.
"I do not know how to fly, noone has ever taught me" explained Peter, "But I have always dreamed of flying like you"
"You can" said Phillip, "You have always been able to fly, you just need to find it in your heart, and when you have found that, you can do anything to you set your mind too."
For the first time in his young life, Peter had something to believe in, he was going to fly, but he still very nervous.
"Why don't we go to the runway?" Suggested Phillip, "You can take off from there"
"I do not want to go there, those big Jet are there and I really do not want them to pick on me again."
"Don't worry" said Philip calmly "I'm here, and those Jets are not going anywhere near you, remember your a Spitfire, it's them who should be afraid"
As Peter and Phillip took up there places at the start of the runway, the Jet were nearby, ready to mock Peter once again, but just as the three Jets moved in, Peter and Philip started up their engines, beginning to build up speed along the runway, the two Spitfires get faster and faster, Peter can just feel him self getting lighter and lighter, racing along the runway faster then a gray-hound chasing a hare.
Before he knows it, Peter is gaining altitude, and is getting higher and higher, Peter is flying, and now he can believe it.
"Let's have some fun." said Phillip who flying along side him. No sooner had Philip finished saying that last sentence, Peter started doing loop-the-loop's in the air; much to the astonishment of the Jet's, and no matter how hard they tried, they could not keep up with the two spitfires.
Peter really was flying high in the sky, soaring in the clouds and gliding with the birds.
So, whenever you look into sky, and you see a plane flying around in sky, remember, there is nothing stopping you from joining Peter in the sky.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you've managed to get through all of that, well done, if you didn't, go back and read it, I will not have people cheating on this blog just so they can get to the special note that is written at the bottom of the post, you must read like it everyone else.
I wrote this short story last year when I was doing Performing Arts at college, this was part of the scriptwriting unit, each week we wrote something different and eventuality we write one big final script. This is a children's story, it taught me that I'm not meant to write children's stories, however this was fun to write so I thought why not post it and let other people enjoy it. Also as I'm writing this note it occurred to me that 'Peter The Plane' is just the ugly duckling but with planes.
At the beginning I mention runway 32, it's just happens that 32 is number of the bus that I used to take to go to college, so if i was to add three and two, I would get five, now if i take my lucky number, which is four and add five, which is the number of characters that usually reside at 742 Evergreen Terrace, I would get nine.
Now, if I take the number of Jeremy Clarkson books that I own, which come to six and add that to £4.24 which is the amount of money that have in a money box on my desk, I get £10.24 or 1024, now I'm going to double that, because I have two hands, I get 2048.
I now need to put these numbers together 5/9/2048.
The world is going to end on 5th September 2048. Beat that Mayans.
Peter The Plane
By Thomas Sanderson.
Every little plane dreams of flying high in the sky, soaring in the clouds and gliding with the birds. This dream was no different for Peter, he wanted to be the fastest of all the planes, but there was one problem, he didn't known how to.
Every day after school, he would go to runway 32 and try taking off, but just as he gets on the runway, the big jets land from out of nowhere and their loud engines really really scare Peter.
"You cannot fly, your just a silly little plane" said Ryan, Ryan was the nastiest of the Jets, He would pick on peter for no reason, Peter never understood why, Peter did not do anything to make Ryan nasty.
All he wanted to do is to be friends with all the other planes but every time those big Jets land, Peter gets really scared and rushes back to his hanger
A few days later, Peter tries again, he finishes school and goes back to runway 32 but as every other day, those nasty Jets would land just as Peter gets to the runway.
"Oh, look there's that silly little peter again, with his stupid little wings" mocks Jake, another one of the nasty Jets. Soon three other jets were picking on him, they were poking and prodding him, call him names and making Peter feel really really horrible.
The Jets had scared Peter so much that he was too frighted to go back to the runway, but he still wanted to fly.
A few days later, Peter looks up into the sky and sees a different plane, it was flying so fast that he nearly falls backwards, this was the kind of plane that Peter wanted to be, yet Peter had never seen this plane before, this new plane was much older then all of the other planes, and yet The Jets left him alone.
When the new plane landed, he saw Peter hide away. Wondering why peter was so afraid, the old plane, goes over to Peter. Suddenly it dawned on Peter, this old plane was a spitfire.
Spitfires are the fastest, quickest and most agile off all the planes, they are legendary, but peter always thought that the Spitfires no longer existed, and yet there was one right there in front of him. Peter does not know what to do, He cowered up and his landing tires started shaking out of fear of what this spitfire was going to say to him.
"Hello, are you alright there" asked The Spitfire
Peter was almost too frighted to say anything. The Spitfire was the most fantastic airplane that Peter had ever seen in his life, everything about The Spitfire was perfect, the way The Spitfire flew high in the sky, the sun reflecting off it's wings, the shine of the green paint, the proud but wise stature that The Spitfire held it's self in. While Peter was standing in amazement at this Sight. The Spitfire talks;
"My Name is Phillip, whats yours." Peter summoned up all of his courage form the depths of his engines and very nervously replied with,
"I'm...P-P-P Peter, c-c-c-can you t-t-t-teach me to fly like that"
"I thought you would already know how to fly, seeing as though you are a young Spitfire." Chuckled Philip
Peter could not believe his ears, In front of him was a Spitfire, and that this spitfire is telling him that he was one of them, this was Peters dream, all along he had wanted to be a Spitfire, and yet, he already was one, he just didn't know it. Just as he is trying to bring himself back together, he catches a glimpse of him self in the glass of the airport, were Peter's eyes deceiving, was he really this beautiful looking machine, with wings that reflect the suns and green paint that shines.
"I do not know how to fly, noone has ever taught me" explained Peter, "But I have always dreamed of flying like you"
"You can" said Phillip, "You have always been able to fly, you just need to find it in your heart, and when you have found that, you can do anything to you set your mind too."
For the first time in his young life, Peter had something to believe in, he was going to fly, but he still very nervous.
"Why don't we go to the runway?" Suggested Phillip, "You can take off from there"
"I do not want to go there, those big Jet are there and I really do not want them to pick on me again."
"Don't worry" said Philip calmly "I'm here, and those Jets are not going anywhere near you, remember your a Spitfire, it's them who should be afraid"
As Peter and Phillip took up there places at the start of the runway, the Jet were nearby, ready to mock Peter once again, but just as the three Jets moved in, Peter and Philip started up their engines, beginning to build up speed along the runway, the two Spitfires get faster and faster, Peter can just feel him self getting lighter and lighter, racing along the runway faster then a gray-hound chasing a hare.
Before he knows it, Peter is gaining altitude, and is getting higher and higher, Peter is flying, and now he can believe it.
"Let's have some fun." said Phillip who flying along side him. No sooner had Philip finished saying that last sentence, Peter started doing loop-the-loop's in the air; much to the astonishment of the Jet's, and no matter how hard they tried, they could not keep up with the two spitfires.
Peter really was flying high in the sky, soaring in the clouds and gliding with the birds.
So, whenever you look into sky, and you see a plane flying around in sky, remember, there is nothing stopping you from joining Peter in the sky.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you've managed to get through all of that, well done, if you didn't, go back and read it, I will not have people cheating on this blog just so they can get to the special note that is written at the bottom of the post, you must read like it everyone else.
I wrote this short story last year when I was doing Performing Arts at college, this was part of the scriptwriting unit, each week we wrote something different and eventuality we write one big final script. This is a children's story, it taught me that I'm not meant to write children's stories, however this was fun to write so I thought why not post it and let other people enjoy it. Also as I'm writing this note it occurred to me that 'Peter The Plane' is just the ugly duckling but with planes.
At the beginning I mention runway 32, it's just happens that 32 is number of the bus that I used to take to go to college, so if i was to add three and two, I would get five, now if i take my lucky number, which is four and add five, which is the number of characters that usually reside at 742 Evergreen Terrace, I would get nine.
Now, if I take the number of Jeremy Clarkson books that I own, which come to six and add that to £4.24 which is the amount of money that have in a money box on my desk, I get £10.24 or 1024, now I'm going to double that, because I have two hands, I get 2048.
I now need to put these numbers together 5/9/2048.
The world is going to end on 5th September 2048. Beat that Mayans.
Friday 11 January 2013
A Lovely And Compleatly Harmless Introduction To My Blog.
So this is my blog, A pretty bog standard affair if you ask me. I've been meaning to start one of these for ages, but never really got off my abnormally large behind to actually do it, well until now.
I have no fixed agenda for this blog, I am simply going to write about stuff which interests me, and quite honesty I don't care if you like or dislike the subjects I write about, I'm just going to write about them,
I guess you want to know a little about me, well my name is Tom.
Admittedly it is very hard to write about something, when that something that you are writing about is nothing, but some how I'm still doing it, also I'm going to brake each paragraph up by pressing enter, I know it is not proper grammar, but I don't care, it's a blog not a newspaper.
Also if you get into a argument with me, please do not use The Sun as your source, as it immediately invalidates your argument. The Sun is simply right-winged, single agenda gossip that features someone taking their clothes off on page 3. It is not real journalism. I think The Sun and others like it is the reason Britain has lost faith in its journalist, the very people who are suppose to hold those in power to account, and give us a voice. Of course, as I write this, I am aware that there are thousands of fantastic journalist who do a great job keeping those in power in check and stick their necks on the line to bring us the truth, we should be reading their work and the not The Sun.
This was only meant to be a friendly introduction, still could be worse, I could be Nick Clegg.
Tomneedsmorework
I like Trains.
I have no fixed agenda for this blog, I am simply going to write about stuff which interests me, and quite honesty I don't care if you like or dislike the subjects I write about, I'm just going to write about them,
I guess you want to know a little about me, well my name is Tom.
Admittedly it is very hard to write about something, when that something that you are writing about is nothing, but some how I'm still doing it, also I'm going to brake each paragraph up by pressing enter, I know it is not proper grammar, but I don't care, it's a blog not a newspaper.
Also if you get into a argument with me, please do not use The Sun as your source, as it immediately invalidates your argument. The Sun is simply right-winged, single agenda gossip that features someone taking their clothes off on page 3. It is not real journalism. I think The Sun and others like it is the reason Britain has lost faith in its journalist, the very people who are suppose to hold those in power to account, and give us a voice. Of course, as I write this, I am aware that there are thousands of fantastic journalist who do a great job keeping those in power in check and stick their necks on the line to bring us the truth, we should be reading their work and the not The Sun.
This was only meant to be a friendly introduction, still could be worse, I could be Nick Clegg.
Tomneedsmorework
I like Trains.
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