I wonder how many people look back at their youth and find they are honestly appalled by the way they behaved? On far too many occasions, I have had sudden flashes of my adolescence and cringed with abject horror.
I, for one, was a tad confused and if I was born later than I was, I might very well have been labelled an ‘Emo’ for all the gut-wrenchingly abysmal self-pitying poetry, tormented soul-baring hi-jinks and the ‘nobody-understands-me’ vibes venting from every pore. It makes me shudder with each recollection.
For those fortunate enough to not have known me during those painful years, let me illustrate with a few details and anecdotes.
Attire had to be black. I had black cowboy boots, tight black boot-cut jeans, long black leather coat, black shirts (even one with a pirate-style lace-up job at the collar!) and a black fedora. My Mum became rather frustrated with this dour dress-code and gave me some money insisting I immediately go out and spend it on some shorts and t-shirts for the summer. Coming back from the factory-outlet store, she was gutted to discover I had spent her hard-earned cash on black t-shirts and black shorts; probably because they looked dreadful with the cowboy boots and fedora.
I did try to dye my hair black one day. I got my friend Rhian to colour my hair whilst leaning over her bath tub. It looked good in the artificial light, but then, when I strolled outdoors, it was a stunning purple. Not quite so cool after all. Having said that, I was doing some work experience at the local Old People’s Home, so I blended in quite nicely.
I grew a goatee beard and had long hair which occasionally got tied in a ponytail. It was the early nineties, after all. Hanging around Nottingham, wandering between shops dealing with various geeky items from cult television merchandise to Gothic accoutrements, I was often mistaken for a drug dealer and on one very bizarre day, Jesus. But that’s Nottingham for you.
Although not a fan of tattoos (not even temporary tattoos, but that’s because I can’t stand oxymorons) I did vandalise my skin with black or red marker pens inviting people to ‘cut here’. This was partly influenced by my rather dark sense of humour rather than an insidious desire to do away with myself. I will not deny that later on, I did have very dark days when the severely dramatic side of me sought a path to obliteration, but thankfully I was prevented from making an absolute fool of myself by friends intervening or the realisation that there was some good telly on that night.
The most embarrassing confession was my desire for a more vampiric lifestyle. Yes, this was years before Twilight and Buffy, but even then, there was something intrinsically cool about the immortal drinkers of plasma.
Despite the contemporary scares of AIDS polluting our consciousness since the Eighties, I still had a penchant for drinking blood and I did sip upon the sweet nectar from a couple of friends when accidents occurred. Before you reel back in disgust, they were willing donors and not the sort of people who gave themselves up to the pleasures of the loins on a regular basis. I may have been barmy, but I wasn’t totally stupid… well, maybe a bit stupid.
There was a time when I thought it might even be possible for me to become a vampire! I tried avoiding sunlight (plans which were continually scuppered when society dictated that I had to attend school) and I wondered how I could join the realms of the undead.
My idealistic notions were shattered when I realised I would no longer be able to eat garlic and I gave up the whole crazy shenanigans and ate some Chicken Kiev.
This period of morbid angst was, thankfully, a relatively short-lived one. These days, when having a gloomy-do, I just hide in my apartment with the curtains shut watching old Fred and Ginger movies on DVD whilst munching down a packet of custard creams and using my tea for dunking. A much more reasonable pastime, don’t you think?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Alegria
For a while I was a ‘Third-hole Theo’. After some time and effort, I surpassed the ‘Fourth-hole Freddy’ mark and now I am a ‘Fifth-hole Ferdinand’! It has got to the point where I may need to puncture a new notch in order for me to be ‘Sixth-hole Steven’.
Of course, I am talking about belt-holes.
As a child, I was sometimes described as ‘stocky’ or as having a good body for Rugby – what a horrible thought. Then, I became a bit skinnier for a few years due to a terrific metabolism and the hills of Derbyshire providing superb obstacles for walking. Then I hit 25.
I woke up on my 25th birthday with a slightly rotund waistline, an extra weight upon my person. I refused to call it a ‘beer-gut’ as I do not have a penchant for the obnoxious brew, so I proclaimed it as my ‘merlot-midriff’.
Not long after, I became involved in a relationship. You do not need me to tell you what a disaster this is for the figure. Once sitting comfortably in the security of love, all hell breaks loose and the adipose tissue multiplies. Cupid strikes you and knocks you off-guard and the next thing you know, you’ve gone from Twiggy to Loggy.
Time has passed and I have been single for a good few years, but the blubber clung to me like a needy child with abandonment issues.
As I approach 35, I am aware of my physical form and, being the sort of person who is constantly wary of what people think, I want to maintain some sort of aesthetic for those who may like to act as voyeur. Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I can be dreadfully and hopelessly self-conscious (some may even have the gall to scream “paranoid” and slap me with a cymbal-less tambourine until I accept it) and this attacks my confidence like shock waves vibrating a kidney stone to its doom.
So, with this in mind, I made a concerted effort to take control of my destiny and forced myself to be more careful with the foods I consume and also get off my wobbly buttocks and stretch the old legs on a regular basis.
I now think twice before putting anything in my mouth (careful, this is not a Carry On film!) and I walk. I walk and I walk. Just about everywhere.
I try to walk to and from work on a daily basis (as long as I do not have to carry anything too heavy). This is a ninety minute journey and as long as I have my iPod assaulting my eardrums with a rhythmic beat, I am quite content. My happiness is only disrupted on occasion when I am forced to step off the pavement to allow cyclists past, when I see other pedestrians nearly killed on crossings due to some idiotic driver or when I see a dead animal in the kerb (I have been known to weep upon seeing a dead cat. I am such a softie!). These frustrations aside, I have a jolly exercise regime and it’s all absolutely free! If there is a god and I get to meet her/him, I must thank her/him for Legs. I will also have a quick word about blisters, inner-thigh rash and nuclear war whilst I am there, but the praise will be enthusiastically forthcoming.
So, here I am, approaching my 35th birthday and I am finally getting to a point where I think I could happily get my kit off in front of other people. Who knows, I may even streak for a giggle. Actually, on second thoughts, I’d better not. No one needs to be subjected to that.
Of course, I am talking about belt-holes.
As a child, I was sometimes described as ‘stocky’ or as having a good body for Rugby – what a horrible thought. Then, I became a bit skinnier for a few years due to a terrific metabolism and the hills of Derbyshire providing superb obstacles for walking. Then I hit 25.
I woke up on my 25th birthday with a slightly rotund waistline, an extra weight upon my person. I refused to call it a ‘beer-gut’ as I do not have a penchant for the obnoxious brew, so I proclaimed it as my ‘merlot-midriff’.
Not long after, I became involved in a relationship. You do not need me to tell you what a disaster this is for the figure. Once sitting comfortably in the security of love, all hell breaks loose and the adipose tissue multiplies. Cupid strikes you and knocks you off-guard and the next thing you know, you’ve gone from Twiggy to Loggy.
Time has passed and I have been single for a good few years, but the blubber clung to me like a needy child with abandonment issues.
As I approach 35, I am aware of my physical form and, being the sort of person who is constantly wary of what people think, I want to maintain some sort of aesthetic for those who may like to act as voyeur. Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I can be dreadfully and hopelessly self-conscious (some may even have the gall to scream “paranoid” and slap me with a cymbal-less tambourine until I accept it) and this attacks my confidence like shock waves vibrating a kidney stone to its doom.
So, with this in mind, I made a concerted effort to take control of my destiny and forced myself to be more careful with the foods I consume and also get off my wobbly buttocks and stretch the old legs on a regular basis.
I now think twice before putting anything in my mouth (careful, this is not a Carry On film!) and I walk. I walk and I walk. Just about everywhere.
I try to walk to and from work on a daily basis (as long as I do not have to carry anything too heavy). This is a ninety minute journey and as long as I have my iPod assaulting my eardrums with a rhythmic beat, I am quite content. My happiness is only disrupted on occasion when I am forced to step off the pavement to allow cyclists past, when I see other pedestrians nearly killed on crossings due to some idiotic driver or when I see a dead animal in the kerb (I have been known to weep upon seeing a dead cat. I am such a softie!). These frustrations aside, I have a jolly exercise regime and it’s all absolutely free! If there is a god and I get to meet her/him, I must thank her/him for Legs. I will also have a quick word about blisters, inner-thigh rash and nuclear war whilst I am there, but the praise will be enthusiastically forthcoming.
So, here I am, approaching my 35th birthday and I am finally getting to a point where I think I could happily get my kit off in front of other people. Who knows, I may even streak for a giggle. Actually, on second thoughts, I’d better not. No one needs to be subjected to that.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Maybe It's Imaginary
Some people have noticed a change in me recently.
I am rather upbeat and chipper!
I shall not deny that over the past few months. I have been in the doldrums and a little bit depressed due to a number of factors. 2009 was not one of the greatest years for me and Christmas was all a bit lacklustre.
However, over the past week, I have been re-energised and I have been all bouncy and sparky like a puppy on crack. This is due to a few reasons;
1) I have really begun to make a dent in my debt and I am on the way to being debt free. Sure, it will take a few months, but I intend to be clear of debt by the end of the year. This is a wonderful feeling - I can't wait to experience the emotion when I am completely in the black.
2) The recent photo session in which Eric took some fabulous images of me gave me a boost in confidence and the surprising feedback from friends has done me the world of good. I have never been particularly happy with my photographed image until now.
3) I have lost a lot of weight. I am not 'David Tennant' skinny yet (I'm working on it) but certainly much less sausage-like than before. This change has lifted my mood immensely.
4) I have more very good friends than I think one is supposed to have and I am incredibly grateful to each and every one of them.
5) I believe that my work-life has improved a lot recently and people are genuinely appreciative of my efforts.
6) This final one is a little bonus, but egged on by the confidence boosts of the above. I think the ice cage that has surrounded my heart for so long has finally begun to melt. Although there is no one on the horizon to fulfill the role of "my other half", I am more open to accept someone special into my life again. For a while, I have thought I was becoming too bitter and cynical to ever dream of love again, but recently I have felt that little dance-kick in my soul which wants to perform a waltz in swing time with someone...
So, maybe I'm delusional or just light-headed through lack of food, but I think it is more likely that I am sliding into a better place in my life.
Sorry to be so sickeningly positive, but it sure beats the crap out of feeling miserable!!
I am rather upbeat and chipper!
I shall not deny that over the past few months. I have been in the doldrums and a little bit depressed due to a number of factors. 2009 was not one of the greatest years for me and Christmas was all a bit lacklustre.
However, over the past week, I have been re-energised and I have been all bouncy and sparky like a puppy on crack. This is due to a few reasons;
1) I have really begun to make a dent in my debt and I am on the way to being debt free. Sure, it will take a few months, but I intend to be clear of debt by the end of the year. This is a wonderful feeling - I can't wait to experience the emotion when I am completely in the black.
2) The recent photo session in which Eric took some fabulous images of me gave me a boost in confidence and the surprising feedback from friends has done me the world of good. I have never been particularly happy with my photographed image until now.
3) I have lost a lot of weight. I am not 'David Tennant' skinny yet (I'm working on it) but certainly much less sausage-like than before. This change has lifted my mood immensely.
4) I have more very good friends than I think one is supposed to have and I am incredibly grateful to each and every one of them.
5) I believe that my work-life has improved a lot recently and people are genuinely appreciative of my efforts.
6) This final one is a little bonus, but egged on by the confidence boosts of the above. I think the ice cage that has surrounded my heart for so long has finally begun to melt. Although there is no one on the horizon to fulfill the role of "my other half", I am more open to accept someone special into my life again. For a while, I have thought I was becoming too bitter and cynical to ever dream of love again, but recently I have felt that little dance-kick in my soul which wants to perform a waltz in swing time with someone...
So, maybe I'm delusional or just light-headed through lack of food, but I think it is more likely that I am sliding into a better place in my life.
Sorry to be so sickeningly positive, but it sure beats the crap out of feeling miserable!!
Friday, January 1, 2010
In These Shoes?
Last year, I made three New Year's resolutions.
1) To give up alcohol.
2) To write in my diary every day.
3) To be celibate.
Number one was easy and I congratulate myself on that.
Number two was going great until I spilled tandoori chicken all over the diary rendering it useless and smelly.
Number three was practically sorted with the occasional fumble off the wagon in rare moments of disgraceful behaviour.
This year, I have some new ones.
1) Pay off as many debts as I possibly can.
2) Lose more weight.
3) Try out that old celibacy thing again.
The first one will be hard. I am going to try my hardest to restrain myself from spending when I don't need to (I don't mean I am going to resort to stealing or anything criminal like that! Heavens to Betsy, what a notion!)
The second one will also be hard, but I have had a good start already. I have lost six kilos in the past two months so it shouldn't be too hard to shed a further six.
The third should be easy enough. I just have to stay as I am and I'll continue to repel any interest with my lack of pheromones.
Let's just take a look at the weight-loss malarkey.
As you may know, I do like to walk and I intend to do a hell of a lot more.
There will be a strong attempt to walk to work and back more often than before, but I will also try and take more rambles during the weekends.
Today being the first day of 2010, I made the effort and went out for a long walk.
The walk is 11km (6.84 miles).
It took me 1 hour and 50 minutes (or 28 Beverley Craven Songs on the iPod) and I came home to a nice bowl of vegetable soup.
The following image shows you the route I took.
I will attempt to find other routes to keep things varied and I imagine I will be putting these trainers through some torment. But if it helps me lose weight and keep me fit, then all for the better, I say!
1) To give up alcohol.
2) To write in my diary every day.
3) To be celibate.
Number one was easy and I congratulate myself on that.
Number two was going great until I spilled tandoori chicken all over the diary rendering it useless and smelly.
Number three was practically sorted with the occasional fumble off the wagon in rare moments of disgraceful behaviour.
This year, I have some new ones.
1) Pay off as many debts as I possibly can.
2) Lose more weight.
3) Try out that old celibacy thing again.
The first one will be hard. I am going to try my hardest to restrain myself from spending when I don't need to (I don't mean I am going to resort to stealing or anything criminal like that! Heavens to Betsy, what a notion!)
The second one will also be hard, but I have had a good start already. I have lost six kilos in the past two months so it shouldn't be too hard to shed a further six.
The third should be easy enough. I just have to stay as I am and I'll continue to repel any interest with my lack of pheromones.
Let's just take a look at the weight-loss malarkey.
As you may know, I do like to walk and I intend to do a hell of a lot more.
There will be a strong attempt to walk to work and back more often than before, but I will also try and take more rambles during the weekends.
Today being the first day of 2010, I made the effort and went out for a long walk.
The walk is 11km (6.84 miles).
It took me 1 hour and 50 minutes (or 28 Beverley Craven Songs on the iPod) and I came home to a nice bowl of vegetable soup.
The following image shows you the route I took.
I will attempt to find other routes to keep things varied and I imagine I will be putting these trainers through some torment. But if it helps me lose weight and keep me fit, then all for the better, I say!
Thursday, December 31, 2009
I Am Afraid
I am afraid I may have been mistakenly recognised the other day. I was leaving the city and as I walked towards the train to return home, a man stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at me with his mouth gaping slightly and his head turned as I passed him and headed to the carriage. No, this was not a look of 'Phwoar, there's a hottie if ever I have seen one!'. It was more of a 'Fuck! That's the man who killed my brother eight years ago during our trip to Cape Cod!'
So, if I am slaughtered due to a misunderstanding, everyone will know why.
I am afraid for the finale of the Tenth Doctor. I was slightly disappointed with part one of this final adventure (but each Christmas special has been tarnished with a slight sadness as I tend to be more melancholic at this time of year - the first Christmas Special was wonderful, but I was in the UK for that one). I just hope the finale is mind-blowing and spectacular, for I'd hate to see a departure as bad as 'Carrot juice, carrot juice, carrot juice...'
I am afraid that this forthcoming year is going to be a very tight one. Last year's New Year's Resolution was to give up alcohol; I managed that successfully. This year's is to do what I can to pay off as many debts as possible. So expect me to be a little less social and a little less extravagant with gifts.
I am afraid for my friend, Gareth, who is back in hospital again post surgery. I don't know all the details as yet, but it does make me sick to the stomach not knowing and I hope to see him soon.
I am afraid of humans, especially in large groups and under the influence of alcohol, drugs and/or religion.
I am afraid of moths.
So, if I am slaughtered due to a misunderstanding, everyone will know why.
I am afraid for the finale of the Tenth Doctor. I was slightly disappointed with part one of this final adventure (but each Christmas special has been tarnished with a slight sadness as I tend to be more melancholic at this time of year - the first Christmas Special was wonderful, but I was in the UK for that one). I just hope the finale is mind-blowing and spectacular, for I'd hate to see a departure as bad as 'Carrot juice, carrot juice, carrot juice...'
I am afraid that this forthcoming year is going to be a very tight one. Last year's New Year's Resolution was to give up alcohol; I managed that successfully. This year's is to do what I can to pay off as many debts as possible. So expect me to be a little less social and a little less extravagant with gifts.
I am afraid for my friend, Gareth, who is back in hospital again post surgery. I don't know all the details as yet, but it does make me sick to the stomach not knowing and I hope to see him soon.
I am afraid of humans, especially in large groups and under the influence of alcohol, drugs and/or religion.
I am afraid of moths.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
We'll Never Pass This Way Again
I know it's a terrible cliché, but this year certainly has flown by. I think it is the quickest year I have ever experienced. Is it because I am getting older?
A common notion amongst my friends is that 2009 has been a reasonably rotten year with the scales tipping heavily on the crappy side, despite the occasional highlight desperately jumping up and down on the other side. One may like to blame the global financial crisis or the alignment of the stars or maybe the old man who spits at the pigeons in the park; but whomever you blame, there is no escaping it. 2009 was not the best of years.
There were a handful of good moments. The absolute pinnacle for me was the wedding of my dear friends Adam and Louise. I'm not usually one to go all weak-kneed and teary-eyed over the old matrimonial displays, but to see this wonderful pair declaring their love on the most perfectly beautiful of days was rather magical. I half expected animated woodland creatures to bashfully sneak towards the gazebo as the wedding vows were spoken.
Another couple of friends, Tina and Stuart, also got married but I was unable to attend for a number of unfortunate reasons, but judging by the photographic evidence, the Disney animators weren't kept out of pocket that weekend either.
My mother's visit was another highlight. Although it was an extremely busy few weeks with lots of theatre visits, dining out and socialising, it was still lovely to spend time with her. I was genuinely a tad forlorn when she left.
2009 was also the year without alcohol. I decided on New Year's Eve that I was going to attempt to get through a year completely sober. I am proud to say that I managed perfectly easily. I was expecting cravings but the only thing that happened was the infrequent dream of me gulping down some wine and panicking that I'd ruined my goal.
I also had a few decent work-related incidents to keep me feeling robust in my skin. I was astonished to receive the innovation award at the Summer conference for the extra work I had done. I also won a prize for raising the most money for a conservation charity on a sponsored walk (albeit a team prize - "Go team!" - *shudder*).
Self-improvement is always a plus to be grinning about and with thanks to my (beautiful) doctor, I was able to blitz some of the frustratingly persistent warts on my fingers and also had the astonishingly ugly cyst removed from my back.
I have also managed to shed a few kilos through exercise and being more careful with my diet and I intend to shift some more over the coming months. I was frightened into it by the ludicrous Body Mass Index which pointed a gnarly finger at me and shouting "overweight" at me (a finger with a mouth – intriguing).
The harder, and dare I say 'shittier', things that have happened this year have involved a number of friends. Some friends have treated me somewhat badly. I am not writing this as a vindictive tell-all in the hope of getting sympathy because those who know me well are aware that I am not that sort of person… generally speaking. I won't go into the details here because;
a) you don't want me to bore you and
b) just thinking about it hurts, so heaven knows what writing about it will do.
So, I shall leave it as a mere footnote to the post*.
The absolute worst part was seeing a very close friend of mine go through a rather horrible time when he was diagnosed with a brain tumour. Thankfully, the surgery went well and he came out fighting the other side. He’s rather indomitable and we are all grateful for that.
On a lighter note, let's take a look at a few superfluous and trivial highlights.
My Favourite Albums of the Year:
Close to Home – Beverley Craven
Beautiful Mess – Swing Out Sister
All in One – Bebel Gilberto
My Favourite Movies of the Year:
I Have Loved You So Long
Julie & Julia
My Favourite Books of the Year:
Handling the Undead – John Ajvide Lindqvist
The Enemy – Charlie Higson
The Help – Kathryn Stockett
My Favourite TV Shows in 2009:
Pushing Daisies
Torchwood: Children of Earth
Biggest Disappointment:
The so-called 'gap year' for Doctor Who.
Can we take a year off when we're a bit tired? No.
Bah!
Other Highlights of the Entertainment Variety:
Finally getting the soundtrack to Alexander's Ragtime Band on CD
The double disc set of Fred & Ginger at RKO
Watched loads of I Love Lucy, Buffy, Farscape and Alfred Hitchcock Presents.
Oh, and there was the wonderful "Pie Day" in which a handful of friends and I spent a day watching a marathon of Pushing Daisies and eating pies.
So, that was 2009. Focusing on the better things is a much better thing to do, rather than wallowing on the negative aspects. If 2010 can have more 'happy' moments, I'll be glad.
Have a great Christmas everyone and a splendid New Year.
*The Footnote: Some people are cunts.
A common notion amongst my friends is that 2009 has been a reasonably rotten year with the scales tipping heavily on the crappy side, despite the occasional highlight desperately jumping up and down on the other side. One may like to blame the global financial crisis or the alignment of the stars or maybe the old man who spits at the pigeons in the park; but whomever you blame, there is no escaping it. 2009 was not the best of years.
There were a handful of good moments. The absolute pinnacle for me was the wedding of my dear friends Adam and Louise. I'm not usually one to go all weak-kneed and teary-eyed over the old matrimonial displays, but to see this wonderful pair declaring their love on the most perfectly beautiful of days was rather magical. I half expected animated woodland creatures to bashfully sneak towards the gazebo as the wedding vows were spoken.
Another couple of friends, Tina and Stuart, also got married but I was unable to attend for a number of unfortunate reasons, but judging by the photographic evidence, the Disney animators weren't kept out of pocket that weekend either.
My mother's visit was another highlight. Although it was an extremely busy few weeks with lots of theatre visits, dining out and socialising, it was still lovely to spend time with her. I was genuinely a tad forlorn when she left.
2009 was also the year without alcohol. I decided on New Year's Eve that I was going to attempt to get through a year completely sober. I am proud to say that I managed perfectly easily. I was expecting cravings but the only thing that happened was the infrequent dream of me gulping down some wine and panicking that I'd ruined my goal.
I also had a few decent work-related incidents to keep me feeling robust in my skin. I was astonished to receive the innovation award at the Summer conference for the extra work I had done. I also won a prize for raising the most money for a conservation charity on a sponsored walk (albeit a team prize - "Go team!" - *shudder*).
Self-improvement is always a plus to be grinning about and with thanks to my (beautiful) doctor, I was able to blitz some of the frustratingly persistent warts on my fingers and also had the astonishingly ugly cyst removed from my back.
I have also managed to shed a few kilos through exercise and being more careful with my diet and I intend to shift some more over the coming months. I was frightened into it by the ludicrous Body Mass Index which pointed a gnarly finger at me and shouting "overweight" at me (a finger with a mouth – intriguing).
The harder, and dare I say 'shittier', things that have happened this year have involved a number of friends. Some friends have treated me somewhat badly. I am not writing this as a vindictive tell-all in the hope of getting sympathy because those who know me well are aware that I am not that sort of person… generally speaking. I won't go into the details here because;
a) you don't want me to bore you and
b) just thinking about it hurts, so heaven knows what writing about it will do.
So, I shall leave it as a mere footnote to the post*.
The absolute worst part was seeing a very close friend of mine go through a rather horrible time when he was diagnosed with a brain tumour. Thankfully, the surgery went well and he came out fighting the other side. He’s rather indomitable and we are all grateful for that.
On a lighter note, let's take a look at a few superfluous and trivial highlights.
My Favourite Albums of the Year:
Close to Home – Beverley Craven
Beautiful Mess – Swing Out Sister
All in One – Bebel Gilberto
My Favourite Movies of the Year:
I Have Loved You So Long
Julie & Julia
My Favourite Books of the Year:
Handling the Undead – John Ajvide Lindqvist
The Enemy – Charlie Higson
The Help – Kathryn Stockett
My Favourite TV Shows in 2009:
Pushing Daisies
Torchwood: Children of Earth
Biggest Disappointment:
The so-called 'gap year' for Doctor Who.
Can we take a year off when we're a bit tired? No.
Bah!
Other Highlights of the Entertainment Variety:
Finally getting the soundtrack to Alexander's Ragtime Band on CD
The double disc set of Fred & Ginger at RKO
Watched loads of I Love Lucy, Buffy, Farscape and Alfred Hitchcock Presents.
Oh, and there was the wonderful "Pie Day" in which a handful of friends and I spent a day watching a marathon of Pushing Daisies and eating pies.
So, that was 2009. Focusing on the better things is a much better thing to do, rather than wallowing on the negative aspects. If 2010 can have more 'happy' moments, I'll be glad.
Have a great Christmas everyone and a splendid New Year.
*The Footnote: Some people are cunts.
Monday, November 30, 2009
One Good Thing
What a madcap week! One of the most intense weeks I have experienced in quite some time.
The epic stadium of theatrics began on the evening of Friday 20th when I received a text message from my ex-boyfriend's partner asking me to call him. When I did, he informed me that our mutual friend had been diagnosed with a brain tumour and he had been admitted to hospital urgently and was awaiting further news.
When a friend is in trouble, I switch into 'Emergency Ben' mode and suddenly become rather efficient and focused. I just wish I could be like that more often without the triggers of other people's incidents.
I visited whenever I could and provided levity for that is what I do in situations of gravity, I simply cannot help it. It lightens everyone's mood and helps me to cope with the nastier side of life, so it’s a win-win situation.
What humbles me the most is how incredibly brave my ex has been whilst facing such danger. His attitude has been indomitable and that sort of strength touches my heart.
It was also a very sad week for a school friend of mine whose brother had gone missing (back in the UK) at the weekend and appallingly, was discovered dead a few days later. I felt so utterly helpless and saddened by this news, but the outpouring of support online via facebook was incredibly touching.
During work hours, I was kept occupied with doing two jobs. For those who aren't in the know, there is a guy at work who deals with all the sales material, proof reading copies and posters etc for the sales department and also handles the mailing out of larger items around the country. Due to his long-service leave, he is able to take time off quite frequently and I am more than happy to cover his job whilst he is away.
This involves me juggling my own job, his and also spinning a few plates all at the same time. Normally, I am quite adept at this sort of thing – the busier I am, the more in control I seem to be, but I think with the other things going on, I became a little bit frazzled this time. Sure, the heavy work load did prove to be a distraction at times, but when I stopped for a breather, I often felt overwhelmed by it all.
I hesitate as I write this for I don’t want it to sound like I'm making it 'all about me'… I don't want to be one of those people who make other people's severe problems into their own personal drama. That's not who I want to be.
On the Thursday night, I attended the book launch of acerbic journalist Catherine Deveny's third book of collected columns. It was a terrific launch and Catherine was her usual brutally hilarious self. Early on in the evening, she announced that she knew a guy whom I should be introduced to, so I waited around for a while as the book signing shenanigans continued and eventually she introduced me to one of her colleagues. "Michael, this is Ben, he works for Penguin Books. Now, off you go…" and she gestured with flapping hands for us to talk as she dashed off to attend to her adoring fan base.
I said to Michael; "I can get up on stage and tell jokes, sing my heart out and perform in front of hundreds, but I am hopeless at introducing myself to guys!" which, ironically, proved it wasn’t true as it seemed perfectly acceptable as an introduction.
We chatted for a while and then Catherine joined us before driving us to the Retreat pub in Brunswick (with a few other people in tow – I could tell a story here about the events of the trip and the discussions involved, but that's a little more private than I think you'd want to know about. Let's just say that conversation revolved around a certain operation I once had and Catherine proved how crippling funny she can be, even whilst driving.
At Retreat we had dinner and had a good old chinwag and lots of laughter. A few of us even played Spin the Bottle (albeit with a knife) which I have never played before and, despite feeling deliriously immature, really enjoyed the thrill of it.
Michael and I got on rather well (Well done, Catherine) but I couldn’t stay out too late as it was a 'school night', so I caught a taxi home.
So, with two jobs, a friend in hospital, a death and an unexpected night of near-debauchery, I had experienced a manic week.
The recent weekend which followed was thankfully a peaceful one. I was unable to visit my ex as he was still in the ICU post-surgery (they were only able to remove half of the tumour as the other half is attached to too many vital parts of the brain) but he is out today, back in the wards.
Chores were done over the weekend and I baked a couple of cakes. The highlight of the weekend was having a sort of 'date' with Michael. He came over and we had an afternoon of DVD watching with some pizza. We had a splendid afternoon and it was nice to finish off a run of heavy days with something so pleasant.
What I find difficult to reconcile is this feeling of guilt. Here I am enjoying this one good thing that has happened to me while other people are suffering. The juxtaposed emotions are conflicting and I am awash with tension as I try to do what's right.
The epic stadium of theatrics began on the evening of Friday 20th when I received a text message from my ex-boyfriend's partner asking me to call him. When I did, he informed me that our mutual friend had been diagnosed with a brain tumour and he had been admitted to hospital urgently and was awaiting further news.
When a friend is in trouble, I switch into 'Emergency Ben' mode and suddenly become rather efficient and focused. I just wish I could be like that more often without the triggers of other people's incidents.
I visited whenever I could and provided levity for that is what I do in situations of gravity, I simply cannot help it. It lightens everyone's mood and helps me to cope with the nastier side of life, so it’s a win-win situation.
What humbles me the most is how incredibly brave my ex has been whilst facing such danger. His attitude has been indomitable and that sort of strength touches my heart.
It was also a very sad week for a school friend of mine whose brother had gone missing (back in the UK) at the weekend and appallingly, was discovered dead a few days later. I felt so utterly helpless and saddened by this news, but the outpouring of support online via facebook was incredibly touching.
During work hours, I was kept occupied with doing two jobs. For those who aren't in the know, there is a guy at work who deals with all the sales material, proof reading copies and posters etc for the sales department and also handles the mailing out of larger items around the country. Due to his long-service leave, he is able to take time off quite frequently and I am more than happy to cover his job whilst he is away.
This involves me juggling my own job, his and also spinning a few plates all at the same time. Normally, I am quite adept at this sort of thing – the busier I am, the more in control I seem to be, but I think with the other things going on, I became a little bit frazzled this time. Sure, the heavy work load did prove to be a distraction at times, but when I stopped for a breather, I often felt overwhelmed by it all.
I hesitate as I write this for I don’t want it to sound like I'm making it 'all about me'… I don't want to be one of those people who make other people's severe problems into their own personal drama. That's not who I want to be.
On the Thursday night, I attended the book launch of acerbic journalist Catherine Deveny's third book of collected columns. It was a terrific launch and Catherine was her usual brutally hilarious self. Early on in the evening, she announced that she knew a guy whom I should be introduced to, so I waited around for a while as the book signing shenanigans continued and eventually she introduced me to one of her colleagues. "Michael, this is Ben, he works for Penguin Books. Now, off you go…" and she gestured with flapping hands for us to talk as she dashed off to attend to her adoring fan base.
I said to Michael; "I can get up on stage and tell jokes, sing my heart out and perform in front of hundreds, but I am hopeless at introducing myself to guys!" which, ironically, proved it wasn’t true as it seemed perfectly acceptable as an introduction.
We chatted for a while and then Catherine joined us before driving us to the Retreat pub in Brunswick (with a few other people in tow – I could tell a story here about the events of the trip and the discussions involved, but that's a little more private than I think you'd want to know about. Let's just say that conversation revolved around a certain operation I once had and Catherine proved how crippling funny she can be, even whilst driving.
At Retreat we had dinner and had a good old chinwag and lots of laughter. A few of us even played Spin the Bottle (albeit with a knife) which I have never played before and, despite feeling deliriously immature, really enjoyed the thrill of it.
Michael and I got on rather well (Well done, Catherine) but I couldn’t stay out too late as it was a 'school night', so I caught a taxi home.
So, with two jobs, a friend in hospital, a death and an unexpected night of near-debauchery, I had experienced a manic week.
The recent weekend which followed was thankfully a peaceful one. I was unable to visit my ex as he was still in the ICU post-surgery (they were only able to remove half of the tumour as the other half is attached to too many vital parts of the brain) but he is out today, back in the wards.
Chores were done over the weekend and I baked a couple of cakes. The highlight of the weekend was having a sort of 'date' with Michael. He came over and we had an afternoon of DVD watching with some pizza. We had a splendid afternoon and it was nice to finish off a run of heavy days with something so pleasant.
What I find difficult to reconcile is this feeling of guilt. Here I am enjoying this one good thing that has happened to me while other people are suffering. The juxtaposed emotions are conflicting and I am awash with tension as I try to do what's right.
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