Numbers.

Ultimately, everything in life boils down to numbers.

For someone whose life has been troubled by numbers, the working out of such ridiculous number equations, maths... it might be quite an ironic a statement to come out with.

Age, past, present, future, job, friends, experiences, money, playcount. This list could go on forever.  For infinity.

Everything has a number connotation, a descriptive term or numerical reasoning. Everything.

I was born on the 28th of the 6th month, 1989. I am 22 years old, 

I have just finished my 11th week in my new job, 54 days. It would have been 55 but for the bank holiday that fell on Monday 2nd January 2012. 8.45am till 5.15pm, an hour lunch, 8 and a half hour days, 7 and a half at work, 37 and a half hours a week.

I spent 4 years at University, 3 for my undergraduate and 1 for the postgrad. Approximately £31,000 over the course of the 4 years, never mind the 100/1000's more pounds spent on food and accommodation. And being a student.

Since starting work I've saved 15% of a loan that I need to pay off within 2 years, the student loan company take £22 off me a month. Quite some way to go, no?

I have 3972 songs on my iTunes, 21.04GB, enough to fill the next 10 and a half days constantly with (some good, some bad) music.

According to the gospel that is Facebook, I have 507 friends.  Perhaps only 20 or so that play an actively important role in my life. The remaining 490 odd, mere background noise? Perhaps harsh, more likely cynically honest.

The final weeks (7 days, 24 hours, 1440 minutes) of a 2 year association with someone I'd put higher than the remaining 506 enough to scar the next 3 years and put the fear of God into me the next time someone new might just be coming along.

Nearly 17 years from opening a present that would shape the rest of my life and forge it in a culture that I could never separate myself from.  A football club, whose very history is written in numbers, 18 and 5, 1892. The 96. 

Numbers are so inexplicably linked to every single thing in life, whether consciously or not, they underpin everything.

Absolutely no idea where these ramblings have come from, so well done if you've read to this disclaimer; apologies.

background lyrics

Is a dream a lie if it doesn't come true/and she says your first sin was a lie you told yourself/the good old days, the honest man, the restless heart, the promised land, a subtle kiss that no one sees, a broken wrist, a big trapeze/for emma, forever a go/you know the summer always brought in, that wild and reckless breeze.

Better to be hated, than loved for what your not/these blood red eyes, don't see so good, but whats worse is if they could/I was always wrong, you all in white/you're asking me will my love grow? I don't know, I dont know/clear your heads and get ready to run/that you'll always be a stranger in a strange, strange land.

Now Cinderella don't you go to sleep/I never felt so strange, standing in the Jersey rain/a moment, a love, a dream, aloud/you and your high top sneakers and your sailor tatoos/stop clicking your red heels and wishing for home/little black submarines operator please/out the door just in time/then I'm gone.

An update/a vent #lunchtimeblog

Perhaps time to write a blog, its been a while.

What about I don't really know.  Maybe an all encompassing catch up of the first 5 or 6 weeks of 2012, or a smorgasboard of everything thats happening/annoying the hell out of me.

I'm now in to my 10th week at work, which has flown by so far, and I've got to the point where I feel like I am actually making a difference, a contribution to the company.  I've organised and ran an event already, and putting the plans together for a showpeice event in May which will be a good, if nerve wracking process. Also, in the ever-lasting-debt-repayment game, I only have 90% to go! ... which on the face of it seems LOADS, but it's good progress after two payments at work and on target to get it paid off by summertime '13.

Other little snippets of actually no interest at all; I've made an amazing new email signature at work(!), reignited my belief that bananas on pizza is one of the greatest yet least appreciated things ever and started planning to spend Christmas in Cape Town - which would be pretty special.

I've also recently started listening to the radio during the day again, something I did religiously during university years and kind of stopped since. I like the radio, and it makes my day go 10x quicker at work... so I'll hopefully continue to (covertly) get away with it for a while.

I am finding myself increasingly disillusioned with football and the media who feed upon it like a disease. The whole Suarez/Evra case continues to roll on and on, quite inexplicably, and the media continue to stir it, and the country up into a frenzy.  Some of the statements that have been coming out from the likes of Ferguson, Gordon Taylor and other muppets have been outrageous.  To suggest that Suarez should never play again for a club that isn't even yours is plainly wrong, especially when you have marshalled the likes of Cantona, Giggs and Rooney through without terminating their contract after they 'disgraced' their club.

And all for what? Refusing to shake someones hand, of course.  The conviction that Suarez 'racially abused' Evra was very, very flimsy at best - I am in little doubt that the large majority of you will struggle to comprehend such a statement, because the media have managed to quite brilliantly manipulate you to believe everything it says as the complete and undeniable truth - but please, read this: http://newsframes.wordpress.com/ it might shed some light on the gaping holes ignored by the media and their despicable propaganda.

But I'm not going to talk any more about the wrongs and (wrongs) rights of the FA's decision, more rather the latest outrage from last weekendghgh.  Suarez told LFC he would shake hands with Evra, and he didn't.  Whilst understandable that LS would not want to shake hands with someone who he believe has wrongly accused him of such a crime, he said he would shake hands.  He let the club, his team mates and Kenny down - and the apology was correct and necessary.  If he had told them before hand that he wasn't going to shake his hand, then fine, I have absolutely no problem with that - but to go against his word was disappointing.

It is the only time I have been disappointed in his conduct during the whole affair - but he has apologised and we should move on.  Some idiots in the media have dressed up the FSG's decision to apologise for the non-shake as backing down in their support of LS from the accusation to the verdict.  This is clearly wrong, but yet another example of the media in this country being a disgrace.

The word 'disgrace' has been thrown at Luis Suarez a countless number of times, yet the only disgrace here is the media.  The disgusting agenda and power they have to manipulate the minds of millions across the country is terrifying, as is the willingness of those in the country to accept it. You'd think people would have grown wise from the whole phone hacking affair, never mind the lies that have been printed in certain rags for decades.

It's worrying.

That'll do.  I could talk (/rant?) about the media in this country till the cows come home, but I've got 6 minutes of my lunch left, so I'll leave it there.  And for the massive bad eggs who now reckon FSG should be forced out like Hicks and Gillet for apologising for the non-shake need to take a long, hard look at themselves.  Get real.

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