ON REINTRODUCTIONS
Well here we are: another year to chalk up on out life tally, and a leap year since the last time I bothered to write even to much as the merest footnote upon these pages. The reason? Boredom and laziness for the most part, leading neatly into a general forgetfulness of this blog’s existence. Still, there’s always time to turn over a new leaf.
So, what’s happened over this gulf of unreported time? Here’s a potted summary:
- I graduated university with a 2.1 degree in Marine Biology
- I made friends with a whole bunch of people
- I formed a country/folk/blues band and released an album
- I had something of a falling out with God
- I made a bunch of zero budget films
- I discovered you can win small art competitions with nothing but a copy of photoshop and a few hours on your hands
- I became part of a very successful improv comedy group
- I realised that what I want to do in life is make films about animals and shit.
At this moment in time I’m away from the cultured climes of
“But why would you do such a thing?” you may ask (or probably may not, hence my asking that question for you. You never ask me about anything any more. Why do you even bother coming back here?). Well, I’ve hit something of a wall – further progress along my chosen career path requires extended training in SCUBA diving, and operating from up here is by far my cheapest option*.
* see: “Mooching off of my parents”.
So that’s the situation. As of the time of writing, I’ve already completed one half of a requisite first aid course, and am now perfectly prepared to pump anyone’s chest one hundred times a minute, pending prior consent (consent may be implied by, but not limited to: asking, nodding, sideways glances, facing away, use of a pogo stick, listening to hip-hop, rapidly drumming a spoon against your filtrum, choking, observation of choking hazards and direct denial of consent).
So there’s the skinny. Next week: Fun With Defibrilators!
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