Changes, Revolution, Revival.

Recently I have been looking at the term “Changes” for my GCSE art exam, at first I thought about the obvious things you’d look at when you thought about a visual representation of the term, things like growth and decay, ageing, history and flip books. But my mind started wandering (as it often does) to changes of a different sort, protests and changes of heart, changes of culture, The more I thought about change, the more I wanted change, the more I craved change, the more I wanted to tear the clinging grasping fingers of the traditionalists away from their tradition, the more I wanted the foundations on which our everyday lives are based around to be shaken beyond all force, and be ripped from our feet., and to build my everyday life on a new and fresh ground. The more I thought about change, the more I wanted change, the more I wanted a revival.

"Life is like a chocolate box, you never know what your gonna get"

To be honest, I don’t think I have ever disagreed with a statement more, right now it seem every morning I have to drag myself out of bed with the same dread for the day as I had the day before, I head out into the cold harsh world, to do my paper round, usually this involves buckets of rain being constantly chucked on my head. Then I go to school, where I’m submitted to the constant nagging of teachers, which I have become so used to its no more than an annoying drone, which occasionally reminds me I have detention tomorrow. Once home I tend to spend my entire life focused on doing absolutely nothing, a nothing which is occasionally interrupted with phone calls, little sisters and my mum.I know almost exactly what is going to happen every single day of the week, I never have the joy of a simple suprise and I can almost guarantee that novthing new will happen in the next week. Life will carry on in the same boring way it has done since the summer holidays ended, nothing new, nothing interesting.So once just once, I seriously wish that something, exiting and fun would happen, anything would do, just so long as it prolonged normal life just for a few days, a few short days in which I could possibly get my life (and my head) back together.