Trust Tommy

When I was in second class in national school, I had aspirations of having my own company. I had it all planned out. It’d have walls, floors, in some places, even a roof.

No seriously, we had water coolers for discussing stuff (has Wikipedia clouded my vision or are water coolers still used for water these days?) and desks for working stuff. We had one stairs going up and one going down, and one going nowhere at all, just for show.

And a fiddler on the roof :)

Photo owned by Paul Kehrer (cc)

On a serious note, or, as serious as we get over at the Collison Volcano Lair, I was quite fond of planning things out when I was younger. As usually happens, though, I got that virus out of my system rather quickly, and yesterday, I couldn’t tell my physio what I wanted to do after college when she asked.

Sure I have a few vague notions, but they’re just that, vague notions. Having said that, I’m starting my second year of secondary school next month, not my second year of university. I have plenty of time.

Tommy Industries was my brainchild when I was younger, and possibly my most vivid memory about the whole thing (save Fiddler on the Roof references) was when I asked my teacher how to spell ‘Industries’.

For second class of national school, I had one of those teachers everyone wants, but not many people get – it was the one who’d answer your questions, and other kids would learn from it.

Unfortunately, on this particular day, said awesome teacher was AWOL, and we have a substitute. She did the usual thing teachers did in that school, and set us work.

Once I had it finished (I did finish it, Mom!) I took out my shaky floor plans for TI and put on the finishing touches on it. I realized I needed to label my drawing properly, having called it ‘TI’ all through.

‘Tommy..’ I wrote confidently, then stopped. I realized I didn’t know how to spell my own company’s name.

Shocked at my own unprofessionality, I hopped up and walked up to the teacher’s desk.

“How do you spell ‘Industries”?’ I asked.

“Finish your classwork” replied the teacher, not looking up.

“I am finished” I point out.

“Ask me at lunch” she says, still ticking something.

I sigh inwardly and return to my seat.

**

Fast forward to lunch, I go up and ask her again.

“Ask me at the end of school”

I return to my seat annoyed, and decide to spell the thing myself.

Tommy Industrys was born.

I think it adds personality.

Still reluctant to fix the underlying problem (anyone got 600€ in spare change?), I’ll just reseat the cable.

So, today’s Thursday. On Saturday, it’ll be August. What happens in August?

Well, you say, it’s now Autumn, the evenings are drawing to a close earlier each day and the weather is getting bad. Well, we don’t really get good weather here in Ireland, so let’s just say that the weather is getting progressively *worse*.

Bah, none of that bothers me. I’m a lover of rain and cold, so miserable weather isn’t going to make me so.

It’s not so much the fact that it contains the day John no longer lives at home, though that’s pretty sucky.

It’s actually what happens 3 days afterwards..

I go back to school.

Back to the world of books, copies, tables, teachers, crowded corridors, packed lunches and the occasional free polo mint.

Still, polo mint perks aside, do not want.

Tapping here on the iPhone because, for what I’d imagine to be the first time in about a year, I have no internet device bar my phone. Odd feeling.

Speaking of phones, aren’t they great?

I know you have the Luddites who claim them to be the cause of every evil in the world, but they are rather good. I’ve gotten into this argument with several people (all 40 or over, just saying..) and I always come back to the point that nothing else has the ability to keep me in constant contact with my parents.

What valid arguments are against phones? Staying in contact, especially for kids, is vital.

If I was a parent, and I’m not, I’d probably give my kids a phone maybe for their 10th birthday, depending on their maturity.

It doesn’t need to be an iPhone, even. Anything that makes calls and texts if fine, like.

Laptop is on the Fritz again. Pretty sure it’s not meant to do that.

Always the optimist, I can say that it was an amusing light show!

Taking advantage of the ‘rents being away for an hour to expand my piano playing prowess beyond one song.

Yes, I’ll YouTube myself playing it once I’m done

Photo owned by Samuel Aguiar (cc)

Am I weird that I don’t like live bands?

I’m not saying I won’t go to see, say, Pete Yorn or The Submarines in concert if they ever came to Ireland, but I’d be going because it’s them, and not for the sake of going to concerts.

Maybe I shouldn’t make such sweeping statements. I know of people who’d go to the cinema, say, just for the the sake of something to do. I’m bored, let’s go to the cinema sort of thing. Does the same happen with concerts?

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d imagine not. Firstly, while the cinema is disgustingly overpriced these days, concerts are probably still more expensive. Secondly, at any one time, there’s probably always a film starting within an hour, so I can’t see that sense of spontaneous wanting-to-go-to-the-cinema-for-the-sake-of-it extending to concerts.

Maybe it’s the standing (which can, admittedly, be rectified), maybe it’s because bands always sound worse in concert than on CD for one reason or another, but mainly I think, for me at least, is that I like control in my music.

Control? What’s this guy on about?

I’ve always maintained that iTunes should copy Last.fm (a service I don’t actually use) and that they should alter the play count rules so that the song is considered ‘listened to’ (and the play count altered accordingly) after playing only half or three-quarters of the song. If this were the case, according to iTunes, I’d have played a lot of songs a lot more times. I digress.

Yes, control. I like listening to what I want (or at least what I don’t dislike). I want to be able to switch between songs have way, In the case of long songs, start in the middle or skip sections. I dislike not being able to change the song if I don’t like.

All that doesn’t stop me having a pipe dream of being a radio presenter mind..

So, to recap: not a mad fan of concerts. Same amount of happiness is gained from lying on the floor with very loud music pumping though headphones (these are what I use at the moment. They’re also the ones I use while drumming)

Photo owned by .res (cc)

Am I wrong though? Are concerts the root of all happiness?

Okay, so I was home yesterday, but I was quite laptopless, which is a sad state to be in. However, I collected my laptop from CompuB, speakers working and all, so we’re okay.

Photo owned by leketoys (cc)

Plans for the week? Got cousins arriving on Wednesday, then I’m off to the US (I do get around, don’t I?) on Sunday for four days (not looking forward to that bit of jetlag) to see a surgeon who operated on me when I was 9, to discuss the prospect of having more surgery to fix my knee.

Will also have a buttload of writing to do while I’m there, but it’s all hush hush at the moment, so we’ll say no more.

All in all, I’m relaxing for this week, in the US next week, and getting ready to (ugh) start second year of school, which I return to on the 26th, ish.

So, to use a terminally overused phrase on TT, normal broadcasting service has resumed!

See what I did there? I inserted a ‘broadcasting’ to make it seem like it was a different phrase, therefore absolving me of being monotonous. Woo! :)

Now, being human (well, close enough to one), I can’t say I’m that prone to biting people. However, one little French kid of about 5 apparently thinks I am. Allow me to explain:

I was in the campsite library one night, taking advantage of their working internet (it’s patchy) to check email and talk to friends on Meebo (web-based MSN). My cane was leaning against a chair beside me and I was listening to music. I was alone in the library save for this group of kids messing about, playing pool and generally being kids.

One kid, this little 5 year old, runs around the pool table and his foot catches my cane, which falls to the ground with a bang.

Now, I pull out the headphones and stand up to pick it up, when I spot his expression. The kid is actually terrified. He’s rooted to the spot. I become slightly confused. It’s not like the cane is damaged in any way or anything..

I try to tell him in my best broken English that it’s okay, as I pull the cane towards me and slide it under my chair. The kid stares at me a bit more, bewildered, before slowly backing away.

Safe to say I was unnerved.

…do as the French do.

Something smells fishy…

Mini-competition in the comments for a completion of the “Something smells fishy…” line. For example: “And I’m not talking about the contents of Baldrick’s apple crumble” Prize for the funniest!