Looking for friend, must have time on there hands

Why does no one ever want to do anything? I'm serious. I cant think of the last time I received a text or a message inviting me to do something. I'm always the asker never the askee. I even invite myself out in town, its just generally assumed I'm going to be there. The last time I truly remember being asked if I wanted to do anything is by Glynn, after a prolonged exile due to the fuck up of a holiday. And yes, I did accept because I can't dispose of friends because I have too much time on my hands and I don't like asking the same person over and over again if they want to do something. Plus there are certain things I can do with one friend that I can't do with another. Jack, for instance, is the only friend I play tennis with because; a) he has a court in his back garden, b) he's free during the week in which to play and finally c) he wants to play and is at the same skill level as me. Glynn is the one I play games with FIFA, pool, Wii bowling, whatever. If it wasn't for the loud music in Riley's I'd probably have a good old chat with him, whilst I beat him at pool, too.

Is it me? Is it karma for all the times when I was a child I decided not to go to a friends house simply because I couldn't be arsed? Looking back I feel guilty about those times and at the time I didn't envision a time when I wouldn't have something to do with someone. But now I'm stuck for ideas whenever a dreary Sunday rolls along and my hangover isn't inhibiting me to stay in bed. I think even now I'd still make the effort just to earn points for turning up and hopefully making a good enough impression to compel them to want to do something with me again. But even with a full tank of petrol I don't know what to do. Do something outside? No, its raining. No one will want to do that. Go to the cinema? I've been like 5 times this week, I think they're starting to recognise me, besides need to save money. TV it is then, another Sunday spent on the sofa, flicking through sky trying to find something acceptable to watch for at least half an hour. Maybe I could invite someone round, watch a movie. Can't ask a girl, none of them know me well enough to come around. But again my friends seem to be absent on Sundays; work, hungover, holes to poke.

A friend of mine once complained that, "our friends are shit, they'd never do anything like that." When we were on the subject of Jazz, Andy and Murgy's trip to Cornwall. I just can't help but think, "why does it have to be someone else who has to suggest it?" This in all fairness is a moot point as previously stated by her "our friends are shit." Another gem of hers was "Handicapped people are way more fun than so called cool people." She then began to recant a tale in which they rolled down a hill on wheelchairs while drunk and fell off. But surely anybody drunk and with access to a wheelchair and a hill would do such a thing. Doesn't even need to be a wheelchair or a hill. Give me a fire extinguisher and a computer chair, I'll propel myself.

But in all fairness are friends are shit and have no sense of adventure. A plan of mine was going to LONDON for a POUND (bargain), going out, getting drunk and then wandering round LONDON, hungover or otherwise, perusing the shops until about one in the afternoon and the returning back for a POUND. Sleep when you get back, simple. But I couldn't see any of my friends doing this but if someone told me about the time they went to London and back for TWO POUND, had a great time, possibly got into some sort of hijinks's, i would be in awe of that person, jealousy would coarse through me, that they and their friends have achieved this while I was there sat on the sofa flicking through Sky.

So this week I'll make plans: tennis with Jack, hopefully Riley's with Glynn (more than likely to be rejected in place of FIFA though), see Mark tomorrow, possibly something with Ceri (from now on is going to be referred to as Cezza because I can do nicknames too) don't know what yet, then at sometime, going out somewhere good, with someone good, doing something good and having a story to tell. Who, where, when and what have yet to be decided all I know is why.

Bilton's Diet

Today I have been eating mostly chocolate and burgers. But I did go for a run at an innappropriate time so it balances out.

I'm sticking to it

I think I'm sticking with this. This is my fifth post, a milestone I'm sure. I don't think my blog serves any real purpose or utility. I don't offer advice, well not intentionally. I don't even criticise or complain (well not yet). I, like almost everyone else blogging, just tell people about my life. Maybe I should provide some service, actively. My life isn't interesting, it's borderline boring, so why tell people about it?
Another thing I'm sticking with is jogging. Purely for fitness. But you never know it may be useful in an emergency, one day I could no longer need a taxi after a night out and will jog home with ease after a night out. I run no further than to the main road and back, a feat taking no longer than 15 minutes, I guess. Well about 4 songs. Although my right headphone isn't comfortable with the running motion so fall out and after a few times I let it hang down and beat against my chest in time with my steps.
Although I do have a strange want that, due to FHM, has tickled my fancy. A distant dream but one I'd love to do. THE NORTH POLE MARATHON. The northern most marathon. I have no idea why I want to do this but I want to. Its a pipe dream and costs about £5000 to enter but I want to. I've never run a marathon before, I've never run over 10 miles (I think) but I want to. It's just that it's one of those things you could say at a party, when someone was droning on abut their wife and kids or how they've just been promoted. To which I can retort well I've ran across the North Pole. To win it would be nice too.

Im not quite sure what to write

My first blog was right, it really was all down hill from there. I've lost inspirado. There's no clear idea of what to write, then again there never was with the previous one's I simply started typing and let my mind ramble and hopefully fit in a story from my life within there. But four posts in and Im already stumped. So Im just going to tell you what I did in the past hour.
I've been laid on the seattee watching Dara O'Briain and shooting him at the same time. In a way all boys/men/women-with-hair-on-their-bollocks are near anything that imitates a gun we immediately pick it up and shoot any viable target before ultimately turning the gun on ourselves and in our own unique animated way, as each persons imaginative death is different, feign the bullet ricochetting through their head/heart/stomach. My weapon of choice is the newly acquired, and quite realistic, desert eagle looking, wii control holder used to aid in shooting zombies. It was bought as a present for father's day, one of those convenient presents you can use aswell. This present was accompanied by another gun holder (not holster although I am tempted to really emerse myself except for the fear I'll buy a real gun and walk into a mcdonalds and kill) and House of the Dead: Overkill. This game harkens back to times when we'd be on our family travels, and no matter where, we would find an arcade supplied with House of the Dead and me, my brother and my dad would take it in turns to shoot and try to survive. Personally I was more of a fan of Time Crisis, partially because it made you subconciously duck behind cover as the protagonist did, as if you were the one in the game (I've lost the point of this blog now and am reading back on what I've wrote so I can know where to take this). Right back on track (not really), yeah so there I was with the "gun" shooting Dara and at one point out of the window at a cat. Thats it.
I'm probably not ready to snap at one point but in all fairness I'm not an aggressive person I'm too laid back. I'd rather go with the flow, then try and stop the flow. There's no point getting angry, not that it never happens but I just feel petty afterwards like I'm just spitting my dummy out.
Sex: How To Do Everything on Fiver it's not that bad, although somethings I already know. This week Cunnilingus and tips on how to suck your own cock (I'm not going to try that, for one I'm really inflexible and two it's fucking weird).

Less Thinking, More Action

Reading back on my blogs there has been alot of self analysis. This can be a good thing but I generally don't like it (Its usually brought on by a girl, I rarely have cause to action that is my own doing or that of the male species. Women have lovely bumpy bits and cause me to do strange things). It leads to inaction. A self doubting phase that consumes anything I do or plan to do so I am switching off my brain and embracing action. I doubt this will reflect in my blog as even now I feel compelled to ramble, divulge and analyse but hopefully my life will be at a metaphorical tangent.
I am now off running mindlessly as my legs have recovered from the previous run which was in a word overambitious. Lovely weather today.

The Difficult Second Blog

Ive continued my true men theme of movie watching which seems to happen at 5a.m. with 300. No idea why this is happening, its not a concious effort on my part. But as in Braveheart the protagonist dies, c'est la vie.
It seems blogging has taken my fancy and like the interpretive chameleon that I am I have now started thinking in blog form. Much like when I watch any comedian only moments later will I imitate him in my head, i.e. Lee Evans and Billy Connolly to name a few (well two...). Many ideas have streamed through my mind on which subject to talk about next, and much like any idea conceived about what tattoo I should have, has been regarded then soon forgotten as it bears no real importance or meaning. But seems as it is my blog I shall talk about myself and much like a presentation I did on myself in year 11 or 10 (I can rarely remember years in accordance with my memories) it will not bear any true meaning or insight. Nothing much has changed since then I still do not care about anything truly significant, there is no burning cause that I strive to help, no injustice I wish to right and no super villain I wish to stop. I am apathetic, indifferent, spiritless. Blame it on my generation, blame it on my upbringing, blame it on TV but I have had no trials or tribulations in which to overcome in my life to make me care, I've simply drifted through; apathetic, indifferent, spiritless. Exams do not phase me for at one time I was smarter than even the brainiest of boffins, Glynn ( apologies for the use of his name if it compels you to bitchiness, but it was needed). Sports did not phase me for I enjoyed them and played them regularly with my friends and as a result had no health issues, the fact is it is seemingly impossible for me to gain weight. I have stayed at a wii ideal of 9st 7 for what seems like an eternity, in spite of the incomprehensible amount of food I stuff down my gullet.
As a Kazak once said and my teacher and all round favourite teacher, the soulful songstar, Mr Dave Tuheeeeeeeeey agreed "I am smart but lazy." This revelation came about when I was bored and found myself in the maths I.T. block, this girl ( a pretty one I might add, it always seems to be the pretty ones that compel me to do such things, well anythings) was practicing Hungarian Algorithms something taught to her in her Further Maths Group of M2 (Mechanics 2 for those not familiar with Maths jargon). This pricked my curiousity and, as I do, I took her book and started to read, upon finding a blank piece of paper I began scribbling things down. Suffice to say she was bemused by my apparent attempt at the Hungarian way of Algorithms. Those who know what I look like and how I act, would also be bemused by such an action as I, Liam Bilton a.k.a. The Lengend a.k.a. Bilton(at times I have no first name, it is only rarely used to distinguish me from another Bilton, whenever our clan congrigates), am seen as a drunken party animal who at parties bounces from girl to girl and it is seen as a coup if someone, anyone can pull before I can. But despite this visage, which I am against as it is bordering on the likes of a charicature much like The Fonz or Joey Tribiani, I do have hidden depth and can master such tasks. It was upon this that her preconceptions seem to have fallen and this allowed her to utter the phrase. This made me smile as never has such a sentence summed me up so well. It wasn't even a complex sentence it was simply two contrasting statements, "smart, but lazy." The picture: it wasn't fancy dress, I just wanted to be a cowboy.
But as Bob Dylan once sang, the times they are a changing, and I feel it too. Despite my best efforts I must do something with myself and as it is, in my eyes, easy work and I will no doubt be in the company of those not as intellectual as I. I am heading up North. (Im not saying people up North are thick but only those that I have the pleasure to share the company of, but even this isn't certain. Maybe I shall be bested and my pride will instill me to rise to such a challenge, as a new foe approaches. My trial and tribulations may just be beginning.) To learn about boats and one day sail upon them having the wisdom of sailors from around the globe imparted upon me (but not in a gay way). I can't see myself doing this all my life, it's nice I guess, sailing to exotic lands and getting paid to do so but I have no passion for it and that is what I desire. I have now left college, I have taken my subjects and on August the 20th I shall have my grades. So that shall be it for the most part of my educational career, there will be no more GCSE's to obtain, no more A Levels to gather and no Degrees shall be had on my seaward training. A part of this saddens me as I always felt I'd be the first of my entire family, the Kirwans and the Biltons, to go to University and complete it. I was the greatest hope, Im not ruling out the possibility of University but as time passes it seems less likely. Nothing is inspiring me to go, there is nothing there I wish to learn. More than likely I would simply focus on the social side anyways due to the lack of enthusiasm I would have for my course. I am 18 and dont know what is to become of my life. I used to be sure but now when it matters, at this crossroads in my life, I dont know where to turn so Im simply following any route, an easy route.
God this blog has gotten more and more depressing as I've rambled on. It's alot more meaningful than my presentation after all, maybe because this will more than likely be read by an audience of one, rather than that of my classmates for whom I feel I do not wish to bear them my inner workings but rather they see the beer swilling, girl snogging Bilton. I feel this is a good point to end although I could ramble for hours and had wished to fit in a story about my chickens and how they run for the back door but I feel the connection would be tenuous. I also wish to talk about the audience of one but again another time. Maybe her connection to the chickens wont be so tenuous and they can share a post together.

It's All Down Hill From Here

This is the first (to state the obvious) but it may also be the last. It all depends on how this takes my fancy and to what purpose it serves me. A possibility of validation from my peers (That is if I choose to show them)? So then a possibility of validation from a lover of reading random peoples blogs (A shot in the dark but I welcome all random blog lovers)? But it could be that there is some use in devulging all to a blank slate. To state your musings, problems, theses and general musings on your life. For to purge your mind of thoughts must be bliss as it seems most thoughts and almost all processes of thinking bring there own problems. Right now my brain is insisting (as it often does) on repeating one line from a particularly addictive and not particularly good song, I'll spare you the torture of telling you the song. But the origin I believe is from too many mindless nights out in town not truly paying attention to the music so it is embedded in your subconcious bubbling up to your hyperconciousness (not a real word but i do like it).
So I guess its time to get to know your blogger. Im rarely portrayed as a saint or a man of conviction. Right now I have on in the background Braveheart playing and I dont think I could be as stoic as him and stick to my convictions under torture or even inspire an army to march for "FREEEEEEEDDDOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!!" (Sorry couldn't help myself). But I wont hold this against myself as I dont believe many people could. This does remind me of something about my father which hopefully will stick by me for the duration of my life. It was the aftermath of a barbeque and me, my dad, my best friend Mark and my brother Matt all sitting on the pateo furniture on the (wait for it) pateo. The only light was from the flames of the hearth in which we threw old bits of wood and the odd bit of paper rubbish. So we all had an orange tint that danced around our faces and glinted of our cans of whichever tipple we prefered (my dad: John Smiths, my brother: Fosters, my best friend and I: Carlsberg). And we were talking about our families, obviously the Bilton family took centre stage as there was three of us to the Smiths families one, and the subject of my mum came up (my mum at this point as usual at barbeques had gotten drunk then gone to bed, the big porcelain phone will have some talking to in the morning, it wouldnt be a proper barbeque without it). And my brother posed the question to my father, "What would you do if mum cheated on you?" And without a moments hesitation and not merely a heart beat had passed in which my dad replied with no emphasis or outrage, "she'd be out the house." Now this left me awe struck to see someone with such convictions. That this man, my father, had such a view that he would not flinch, despite it meaning he would lose the woman he loved. To me this made me prouder than anything else my father has done for he is a man of conviction, a true man.
People often say that me and my father are similar and to some degree it is true. We both have a similar idiom of "don't let the bastards grind you down" and we also have a similar approach to work. This also takes me back to a more recent barbeque in which my aunty, under the influence, stated "If you didnt look so much like your father I'd hit you. I can't really remember what I had done to provoke this but I must admit that the thought of "I thought i was better looking than him, actually did cross my mind." Vanity is one thing I dont believe we have in common. Which also leads me back to my point and the relevant above story. I do not believe, wait, I am not a man of conviction and I must admit that the opposite sex is my weakness. Blame it on my youth or the fact I really can't figure them out but I am not a man of conviction. A girl has cheated on me, a russian, and I wont go into the complicated details of that night in which I had almost knew that she would cheat on me and the night in which I only slept for stints of half an hour, and yet still had vivd and crazy dreams which Im sure there will be more of and shall be told on here. But after this I did take her back and not only that it was all back to normal except for the fact that we were back to "sort of" (a bastard of an ambiguous phrase if ever you needed one) which meant we could in her words be bad on weekends and when we went out but still see each other. And like a fool I accepted because by the night I missed her and wanted her back, to hold her hands and run my thumb across her knuckles (its always the stupid little things you miss the most). So I held my convictions for all of 8 hours when tested, granted I did care about her, more than I have any other girl, but nowhere near to the level of that between my mum and dad. My mum, thank god, has never cheated on my dad so his convictions have never been tested. I envy the Bravehearts out there who see things in Black and White and have such clarity of vision.
The parents are in there house in Spain now for what is now becoming a monthly event and they will hopefully retire there and live happily ever after.