Incongruence.

I fear the reason my posts are now so mundane is because my brain lacks the nicotene that had in the past been stimulating it into artistic literary glory (modesty is my middle name). Regardless I cannot return to that infernal habit and I shall have to make do somehow, somewhere inside this new and improved hardened skull of mine is the potential to picture bouncing mammaries in 1080P. Possessed of such a high definition imagination I needn't worry about a thing, except for the remote possibility that I may one day marry a woman and upon seeing her naked body for the first time fail to be the least bit awed as I'll have seen it all before in a higher resolution than my optic nerves can handle. 

A couple of weeks ago I was in the highest of spirits, I had essentially risen from the ashes like a Phoenix (unbeknownst to most the phoenix is Scorpio's other symbol) after stabbing somebody in the back to get there the university put me on the UKSLA moot team so I'm primed to win my next 5 cases and reach the final in the supreme court (God-willing). I also got a job as an ambassador for the university which I was incredibly excited about (I gave the interviewers a presentation about chai to get in) until this afternoon when I was subjected to a 5hr training/brainwashing session about how never to badmouth the university even implicitly or by mistake and how to speak like a robot taking special care to avoid the use of sarcasm the only form of humour that helps us wash the world down and swallow. 30 minutes were dedicated to the ever so important topic of "how to react if minors or their parents hit on you".

I got back to my room and slept like a log at 6pm waking up to a nocturnal existence and vague memories of a dream about doctors performing 2 surgeries at the same time that both of which resulted in failure. On occasion I mention my dreams on the off chance that the spirit of Sigmund Freud trapped on the internet will somehow find this blog and leave an anonymous comment explaining how mental I am.  

I recently marathoned "Game of thrones" and discovered first hand what a vile sexist show it is, concocted by the very same post-modern bastards with whom I'm studying law. I'm sure that's why they love it so much, they all want the figurative throne someday. Anything for a silken gown. I hear the books are less dependent on blood and sex to tell their story but HBO is known to sexualise whatever it can. Sex sells, , that's why every bookshop lists 50 shades of grey as a best-seller. The mere thought of this tells a great deal about how low humanity has sunk but I am saddened more profusely by the author's status as an ex-alumni of this institution a fact that the PR department has done its level best to suppress even though E.L James has made it to the time100 and secured a lucrative Hollywood movie deal.  

In an idealistically liberal society of course the content of her fiction wouldn't be an issue, the PR department likes to blow its trumpets the moment any other ex-alumni so much as farts their way into the papers.

My spirits were further crushed by my second failed election campaign, leading me to conclude that I am not cut out for politics, and that democracy is gay. In essence the good and the bad balanced each other out and left me feeling moderately pissed off, (my usual temperament). 

I vented my frustrations by volunteering to box in the ring for the first time, I was soon shown the error of my ways and the relative intelligence of the others who were too scared to try it out, still I came out feeling and looking like a badass with a right hand that shook uncontrollably for the next hour, so much so that the guest speaker judge I met directly afterwards took notice. I also took home a refreshingly concussed head and a sense that in the boxing ring nothing else matters, the companies act 2006 doesn't matter, nobody cares that it's the longest statute, nobody cares about who you are, people care about very little other than hitting and not being hit themselves. This realisation along with the adrenaline rush and my love for escapism have prompted me to keep at it regardless of the harassing phone calls I now get from my father advising me that if I intend to enter a profession that involves using my head I should avoid being hit in it.

So I woke up at around midnight and began replaying Kingdom Hearts, something I first played a decade ago I'm currently in Agrabah saving Alladin from Jaffar, very nostalgic indeed, if a bit sad for a 21 yr old on Halloween. 

In other news my six pack has emerged from its coffin thanks to all this boxing and I am once again muscle bound, I have been tucking my t-shirts in proudly for the past 2 days in celebration. I've entered heated debates about whether or not this is some sort of fahsion faux pas. All that's left is to drink raw eggs in the morning, something I've hesitated to do for fear of contracting salmonella. They say Zardari might reverse the recent 800% tax on international calls to Pakistan, I hope so, one less thing for me to be pissed off about improving my disposition by an amazing 0.0025% 

Before I sign off I've also started Alpha Bravo Charlie which in stark contrast to Game of Thrones is a brilliant piece of storytelling and is somewhat of a guilty pleasure for somebody who frequently badmouths desi dramas.