The more they stay the same. Here I am, Saturday night, and in my element, not doing anything. The thing is, I'm grateful for the break, truth be told. Almost every other weekend has some sort of social event booked in my diary (how very professional), and with the long working hours that traditionally accompany this time of year in my line of work, any time off over the weekend is cherished.

So...I've taken up watching the NFL. One part of my final dream (the end goal, where I saw myself at the age of 30 or so) has been to come home from work, sitting on a sofa in a different continent, watching American sports while drinking beer. So I guess Saturday nights can prove to be a training ground of sorts, seeing if the final dream finally comes into fruition. Sad, eh? I am a simple man, however, so such things are a luxury to me.

The past week has been a strange one. Different emotions have been flying through my head, mainly creating mass confusion in my thoughts rather than anything else. Life requires such emotional swings however, to keep things interesting. The only boat that doesn't rock is one that isn't going anywhere. So the possibility of storms is one that is to be embraced, rather than feared.

I had a read at Sullen/Haze's journal earlier on, and it's funny how time has indeed flown. I personally can't believe how long I've been here, even though I was more of a passive visitor over the last year. Yet it's difficult to see just how life has progressed. Sure, I now look a bit older (I can almost go to a pub without being ID'd these days), but ultimately my place in society has largely remained the same - a dreg. Who knows, maybe this will be my year...

Touchdown Patriots...Now, where's that beer?

2008 promises to be the best year yet, if for no other reason because the years preceding it have been so rubbish. If anything, every decision should be entered into with eyes wide open, no matter how difficult it may seem.

I've fallen into a different age bracket since I last wrote. No longer a youngster (if I ever was), I need to begin to grow up and take life a bit less seriously. Sure, there are various commitments that I have to satisfy. But there is also another life out there that I need to satiate, nurture and develop. I guess that is the new year's resolution - take a few more chances, try and enjoy life a bit more.

Towards the end of last year, I managed to make two dates last a combined total of three hours. Unhappiness appeared to be the name of the game. Friendships and the ability to bounce back from disappointments will be all important in 2008. I wish you all a prosperous year.

I know it's been a long time, but I had nowhere else to go. I thought I'd flew the nest, moving away from online journals and into the real world, but the reality is I still need it. Even although this will likely be the only entry I make in the present and immediate future, it's good to maintain a log to check back to every now and then. My procedures manual, if you like.

The past week has really left me feeling that I need to have a sounding board to release feelings on to. Pent up frustration about the way I'm perceived has led me to one conclusion: never speak to anyone ever again. If you're mute, you may seem like a bit of a tosser, an ignorant prick, an unapproachable bastard, call it what you may. However, it still seems preferable to opening your mouth and removing all doubt with regard to all of the above, regardless of how much you try to seem like an all-round decent, genuine person.

Life, in the end, is just a game. A means to an end. It's just down to what dice you roll, what squares you take, how many people beat you, and then that's it. We're all the same in the end. No inequalities in that respect. Yet the game doesn't really seem to be mine to be playing at the minute. People are taking my moves for me, and I'm more or less a passenger. Whatever move I make seems to be the wrong one, and I seem to be sliding down more snakes than climbing ladders at this rate.

I remember at the end of school how much I was looking forward to university, as I'd be able to break out and be the person that I wanted to be. And yet it never really happened that way. I got cocooned into the type of person I always expected to be - studying all the time, worrying even more, barely socialising. So, the break from university to work was another opportunity to readdress the balance. A second chance, if you will. It hasn't been grasped.

Very quickly, I've been isolated for the person I am; an awkward soul, talking much shite and slipping below the radar of pretty much everyone. Those who do speak to me keep it on a trivial basis, asking how your day's going, if a good weekend was had. Others decide to be quite hurtful in commenting on my actions, which is probably down to something I'm not even aware of doing. And yet it only takes one person to think such a thing to begin to bring doubt into your mind on what other people think. What you could be thinking of your own behaviour, actions and responses could be totally different to how you're thought of. And if that's the case with one person, what could it be like for many others? A generalisation?

Simply put, I'm not really enjoying life at the minute. In fact, I haven't been enjoying it for a good few weeks now. Just one crummy thing after another. Whether it's the endless quantities of study work, or girls (particularly girls), or supposed friends, or family, it all seems to be on a downward trend. Whilst I could never bring the game to a premature end for various reasons, it doesn't seem to be providing me with much enjoyment at the minute. Perhaps I'll be lucky, and it'll be check mate soon enough.

£29.50 a throw! I almost choked on my porridge when I heard how much it would cost me to see the old codger with the new music for the third time. After booking fees and the like, it'll come to about £156.50 per ticket. Fantastic. Still, I guess with the pension systems collapsing right, left and centre these days, he needs a bit extra for retirement. More fool the poor people of these fair isles, who have to shell out megabucks to see their working class (sell-out) hero.

Ah well, it's just a depressing mood. With months to go until the termination of my university career (by pass or otherwise), I guess I should be looking to have a mega summer. And I might - touring America is a bit of a dream; going down sarf for a couple of days is a possibility. But I don't think the reality has dawned on me yet that this is my last summer. Granted, it falls on a World Cup year, which can only be good (I've pre-ordered my new Sweden top), but once I start work, that's it. The next fifty years of my life, full of nothingness. I can't wait.

Still, I can't complain (although I do). Dissertation is the word of the day, as it has been for the past 150 or so. (Shame I can't string too many other words together to match it). No matter how much I try to convince myself, it won't be finished tomorrow. I've said for the last three weekends that it would be finished, and it isn't. I'm making a commitment to myself (and nobody else) that it will be finished by Sunday night. Shoot me now.

Well, til more fun-filled adventure the next time, I bid thee all adieu.

I picked up my car today (not literally). It's rather nice, even if it does look like it should really belong to a female. I have my driving test in four weeks, so hopefully I'll be able to drive wherever I want with whoever I want pretty soon.

Nothing much else has happened this week - a trip to the cinema and a couple of journeys into university have been the highlights. I'm going to cheer on my team tomorrow to be fair, along with possible drinks and meals (no, I must refrain from drink...) along the way. A decent way to spend a Saturday, I'm sure you'll all agree.

Are any of our British-based readers fed up with the ITV extravaganza of self-indulgence? All these ancient newsreaders from the time that man forgot, dragging up moments of history (such as the first time Prince Harry picked his nose) that have been so expertly brought to our screens by said presenter. It's sickening.

Still, as Louis Armstrong once told us, let's look on the bright side of life.

Look at Raoul, bouncing up and down!

Anyway, yet another Saturday night in by my lonesome. My bedroom is a mess, as is my face (for matters other than the ordinary - I have decided to begin a farcical attempt at growing a beard. A week on, it's quite itchy, and spots have made my face really quite sore). I've watched Summerslam 88 (ah, those were the days) and Austin Powers today, and done precious little else. Fantastic!

The main major news in my fabulous life is that I recently obtained a car (a Vauxhall Corsa, let it be known. Buy British! Until it breaks down.), to go with my fantastic job for next September. Yes, things are looking up for this 20-year-old stallion. All the typical things in life (car, job, house) all seem to be coming together at the one time. A transitional period in my life, one may say. Where JacquesTheLad becomes JacquesTheMan...Ha ha, I'll never learn.

No ladies on the, well, lady front...Some things never change. That may change soon, however. With heroin having drained a young Jacques of his libido, it was back with a vengeance as the suppositories took their effect. Maybe this week, maybe next month, maybe never. Choose life.

I think I'll pop through to the zoo during the week, to see the koalas and the gibbons and the tortoises and the penguins. I return to university in a couple of weeks, so the final days of freedom must be fully appreciated. And the zoo is one of those activities which has to be done. Along with a poker night or two.

And so, onwards and upwards. I hope you all have a truly stupendous week.

And thus, my most recent entry begins. A fair bit has changed since the last time. I was offered a job on Thursday for next year once I've graduated, I saw Franz Ferdinand once more (this time in Edinburgh), I've worked for 8 weeks for the company that offered me the job above, I've met up with my cousin from America and had some good times, and yet nothing of a romantic nature has occurred. Some things never change, eh.

So, three weeks remain of my summer holidays, and I have no plans whatsoever. I quite fancy performing some feng shui on my room, but the lack of space hinders that. I also fancy going on holiday to somewhere nice and hot, but with no friends to go with, it's a tricky situation. I may visit Biffo in Costa del Manchester, but it's hardly likely to get me very red/bronzed.

In other news, I have been caught big style on the poker wave that has been sweeping the world over the past 12 months. Playing in casinos at stud, playing online at hold-'em, I finally understand what it's all about. Not that I'm any good at it - I suck. But it's utterly fascinating. How can a poker company be worth more than Marks & Spencers? I mean seriously, is that a sign of the shambolic gambling addiction which is such a scourge on our society today? Or just a sign that M&S is, well, crap? I'll let you decide.

One thing that working over the summer has taught me is that student time should be savoured, not hated. Not that I disliked my work; far from it. But the days of doing nothing will be over all too soon. And I'll look back on it with some regret. Think of how I could have done things differently. Taken a few more chances. Enjoyed myself a bit more. Then again, I'm probably just being silly.

Well, this'll be my last entry til the next one. I hope you are all truly splendid.

Likes:
John McEnroe
Jimmy Connors
Andrew Castle (I know...)
Hawkeye
Boris Becker (just think of that cupboard every time I see him...)
Barry Davies
Henman being knocked out
Andy Roddick's forehand
Andy Murray's second set against Nalbandian

Dislikes:
John Inverdale (just so annoyingly sycophantic towards everyone on the highlights)
Virginia Wade (THAT voice)
Tracy "Jane" Austin
Sue Barker
John Lloyd
Martina Navratilova's veiny arms (she should just give it up, really)
The American journalist referring to Andy Murray as the "Englishman" who won the US Open
The even more dismal British display than usual
Slower serves
The clowns with the silly hats, thinking it's official uniform when Henman's playing

I will live on, in the hearts of men and the minds of women. Not very likely, of course, but it's a relatively mighty opening sentence for a journal entry. Especially one of mine.

So, having received my exam results on Monday (and they weren't too bad), I decided I best take stock of my life, and see exactly what has happened. Twenty years have passed, and one year left of university. This "student experience" has really been nothing more than a facade to me, if I'm being perfectly honest.

Let's look at it. Your stereotypical student is, for all intents and purposes, a waster. He/She skips lectures, goes to the student union to get pissed at least five nights out of seven, racks up huge amounts of debt, lives away from home on baked beans, doesn't wash, makes loads of friends, has numerous sexual partners, works in a pub, and never wakes up before 1am. I am none of the above. I never skip lectures. I never go out and get pissed, I'm not in any debt other than my overdraft, I eat fairly well, having meals made for me every night. No sex (please, I'm British), friends or long lies. In fact, I could even extend to say that my own student experience has been largely mundane.

So, is it time for a change? Hardly likely. I only have one more year remaining in this degree, and it's a bit late to start being a lazy doss. I'm not exactly sure why I'm bemoaning my position - I guess it's just been because I've realised how few friends I actually have. Quite sad, really.

In other news, I'm hoping (praying, indeed) that I'm able to get standing tickets for Ian Brown in November. The tickets have apparently been going quickly, so tomorrow shall be spent frantically trying to get some. The Franz Ferdinand tickets are still not procured...Another cross. I have no passport, despite the fact I have a flight in ten days, and I haven't sent away for my student fees for next year, despite the fact I signed the form three weeks ago. Oh, and my hair needs cut.

My life is a mess.

Sigh, another Friday being spent, doing nothing more exciting than playing on an online poker tournament (and being knocked out within five hands, undoubtedly). It's been quite a delightful day, as well, if somewhat unsuccessful. I lost my tennis match quite disappointingly, my grip on my tennis racquet finally gave up the ghost, I failed my mock driving test (quite abysmally at that), and to make matters worse, I managed to jar my finger in a door, causing it to bruise quite strangely on the fingertip. Not so keen on Fridays, these days.

Still, I need to look on the bright side. I'm supposed to go to a 21st tonight, yet I couldn't bring myself to meet up with old school acquaintances without the security of a friend by my side. As such, it's another Friday planked in front of the telly and computer, doing precious little if the truth be told.

I still haven't booked Franz Ferdinand tickets - a crime which, if not corrected, will be another moan of mine. Further to this, I don't have any plans tomorrow during the day for the first time in ages - the last two Saturdays have entailed trips to Hampden, whilst prior to that it was a constant routine of "studying" (i.e. listening to the football on the radio) or work. I have no idea what I will do. It's a difficult decision when you've got no money.

Sadly to say, I'm getting back into wrestling. I'm not talking about current-day nonsense, all finely-tuned athletes these days. No, I'm talking about the era of about 1989-1995: the Ultimate Warrior, Bret "Hitman" Hart, "Macho Man" Randy Savage, "Million Dollar Man" Ted DiBiase, The Undertaker, Rowdy Roddy Piper, Mr Perfect, Ravishing Rick Rude, Shawn Michaels, Tatanka, Yokozuna and "The Model" Rick Martel era. Sheer bliss! Hedonism at its' peak, and great entertainment. I love it.

Well, the tournament's about to start, with about 4,000 participants. I'm predicting a top 1,500 finish for Jacques. Wish me luck!