Musings Of The Mind

Night Town - Part Three

2011-11-01T19:12:00.001Z

Darion rose from a faded red armchair. In a rather classic Edwardian style, the uncomfortable chair stood out in stark contrast to the furniture in the rest of his minimalist lounge within his suburban mansion. His lounge featured merely a white marble coffee table, kentia palm potted plant and a gigantic, almost paper-thin television across the wall above a bespoke gas fireplace, flames flickering gently and heating the large room. Looking across at the doorway, Darion regarded Reece Walters with a wary eye. Walters was the chief Under-Baron of Darion Montrose’s under-empire in East Rhodes but he was far from an impressive specimen to look at. Prone to wearing a trenchcoat that would hang off his lanky frame which at least made him appear taller than his five feet seven inches, Walters was a man in his late fifties with the appearance of a man in his early seventies. Gaunt, almost skeletal features looked out from under a black trilby that was far too big for his head, resting instead on the tips of his ears. His pale skin was almost waxy in appearance, and a sheen of perspiration on his top lip suggested he was a heart attack waiting to happen. Beady black eyes blinked from beneath his sunken brow, looking down the end of a prominent nose that jutted from his face like an angry red beak. The smell of stale sweat and old alcohol was almost all-pervasive, but Darion hadn’t invited him there to comment on his addictions or hygiene issues.

“I want to know where Griff was when he was found, Reece," he began, quietly. "He was torn to friggin’ shreds and I have an intelligence gap the size of East Rhodes about the whole damn situation. He was your runner, you tell me what he was doing.”

Reece nodded almost imperceptibly. His eyes had narrowed, suggesting his hackles had risen at the quietly authoritative tone of voice that this young Montrose had dared to use with him, but he picked at his nose briefly with one long, claw-like finger for a couple of seconds before licking his thin lips with a dry tongue and replying in a voice that was pure cockney, choked with old gravedust.

“Griff was runnin’ Thorburn Avenue. I ‘ad ‘im knockin’ on doors down there, makin’ sure we was gettin' what we was due. He ‘ad some problems at Jem’s wiv the new owner, but nothin’ out of the ordinary. Far as I know, he left there wiv the payment and was headin’ back to us. He never made it back to his car, I know that much. Fuckin’ thing got clamped and I ‘ad to bribe the cheeky bastard what done it to get it back before it landed on council property.”

Darion pounded a fist onto the back his armchair, the sound echoing dully in the almost-empty room. Flicking his eyes across the floor as if searching for inspiration, he chewed his lip thoughtfully before nodding and starting to pace the white marble floor. “Where was his car parked? What route would he have taken back to it?”

Walters shrugged momentarily before deciding that doing so was probably not the best thing for him to be doing at that moment. Clearing his throat with a brief hacking cough, he snorted up some phlegm, swallowing it noisily when he realised there was nowhere for him to spit it out. It gave him the time he needed to formulate his response.

“I’d of gone back towards King Alfred’s Square and then cut down the alleyway next to St. John’s," he said, matter-of-factly. "There’s a path through the cemetery that’ll take you back out to Hawkford Road where Griff always parked his Beemer.”

Darion stopped pacing and turned to his chief Under-Baron. Fixing the older man’s gaze with a steely one of his own, the Underlord spoke quickly and with authority. “I want that alleyway checked out. It’s already clear that we aren’t going to get help from Pedgley. The cops don’t wanna know and I guess that’s no surprise. We might be able to buy the fuckers off but we can’t expect them to actually help us. Still, see who you can use,” he said, touching his facial scar absently.

Walters nodded again, more emphatically this time and began to turn from his Underlord boss. Suddenly he stopped himself and turned back to face Darion. “I’ll have a word wiv Jack," grunted Walters. "That old nut ‘angs round that way all the time. If anyone saw somethin’, it’d be ‘im. Not sure we’ll get any sense out of ‘im though, he’s mad as you like but it’s worth a go.”

Darion shrugged his shoulders and waved a hand in dismissal, clearly not giving a rat’s ass how Reece got his information, only that he actually gets it. “That don’t bother me, Reece. I can’t have my people being picked off like that, especially valuable members of the crew like Griff. Just get it sorted, we can’t have this happening again.”

Walters mumbled his assent before turning and striding out of the building, finding himself flanked by one of his heavy’s, Jonah Stamboli. Jonah was thickset and brutish, every bit as brawny as the now deceased Griff Bolton but with roughly half the intellect. Fortunately, his job was to be the muscle and the muscle only and in that he could perform the role better than almost anyone. Reece turned to him as they walked out of the front doors of Darion Montrose’s enormous home and walked down the paved driveway to the waiting Merc.

“Get the boys together, Jonah. We got ourselves a little huntin’ to do.”

****

Steve hopped down off the couch and buttoned up his shirt, his fingers fumbling as the ends of them were sore from his constant biting of the nails right down to the quick. His fingers resembled little more than stubby, inflamed fleshy lumps following his days of wondering what had caused his eyes to bleed. Feeling a little lightheaded, he finished doing up as many buttons as was considered reasonable to keep him decent, and then turned to the doctor sat behind his desk.

“So what’s wrong with me, Doc? Am I going to live?”, he said, speaking this last part with a degree of defeated humour, displaying a sickly, weak smile on his tired, grizzled features. The doctor looked at him over his spectacles and frowned ever so slightly, evidently not seeing humour in the situation at all.

“It could be a number of things, Mister Garron. I suspect you may have had some inflammation behind the eye resulting in a haemorrhage of some description, but it could also be symptomatic of a tumour or several other conditions. I will need to refer you directly to an ophthalmologist who will conduct further tests. I suggest in the meantime you continue to take aspirin daily and work on cutting down on your alcohol intake as well as watching your intake of fatty foods. You have high cholesterol and low blood pressure. You need to take better care of yourself, in short.”

Steve had rapidly allowed his eyes to open wider during the doctor’s spiel, now more concerned than ever and wishing desperately that he had nails left to chew on. “When will I have an appointment with this specialist then? Are we talking days, weeks or months?” he said, almost desperately.

Looking back at his notes, the doctor scrawled something illegible in black biro on his notepad and then laid his pen down. Turning back to his patient, he steepled his fingers below his chin and then spoke in a more restrained manner, the light from window glancing off his bald head.

“Mister Garron, we’re talking days. You’ve come to me before when you had depression and you know me to be a straight-talking man. I honestly can’t say what it is that is causing your eyes to bleed. I have my suspicions as I’ve mentioned, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to get your hopes up unnecessarily," he said, sighing gently. "I am extremely concerned by what is happening to you and for that reason; I have secured you an appointment with a specialist. You have private health care, fortunately. Perhaps one of the relics of your time in the force so you don’t have to worry about waiting limits. Eleven o’clock, Friday morning. Doctor Calvert will see you then.”

Steve nodded, swallowing nothing in his suddenly dry throat and running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “This Doctor Calvert, is he any good? I mean, is he going to be able to actually tell me what is going on, how I’m going to get better?” he said, quietly.

Rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand, having removed his glasses, the doctor sighed again and responded in a resigned voice, “Yes, Mister Garron, he is good. He’s one of the best in his field. He can only work with what he’s got, however, and what he’s got is a middle aged man with a penchant for whiskey, a terrible diet and a predisposition towards depression. Have a little faith, we will do what we can for you but we need you to work with us.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll see how I get on. Thanks for your time, Doc, I’ll be sure to make it to Doctor Calvert on Friday.” Steve turned to leave as Doctor Marshak looked back to his notes, making a few more scratchy marks on the paper before tucking them back into the buff-coloured folder. He turned his attention to the door as it closed after Steve Garron before reaching for the phone on his desk.

****

Jack muttered to himself as he always did, wandering the streets of East Rhodes. His destination was unclear, moving as he did like a ball of waste paper in the wind, and being regarded as such by the passing members of the public as he weaved uncertainly between them and the nearby gutter. To someone studying his movements over time, however, they would realise that his erratic sense of direction was anything but random. He unerringly headed from King Alfred’s Square towards Winchester Street, then to Elderberry Lane and finally to Thorburn Avenue, always in that order and always walking in the same places as before, as if treading on marked footprints. The central pivot between these four areas could be considered to be St. John’s Church, a relic of 19^th century idealism, originally built in impressive granite blocks that were long since worn by rain, damage and lack of care, the dark stained stone symbolised the grim mood of East Rhodes and characterised the inhabitants perfectly. Stood upon a raised area of ground, the church was closed at night and rarely opened during the day, holding a service only once a month that was attended by the few who believed and the desperate who wanted to.

Jack avoided the church himself. His muttering grew louder the closer he got, and on rainy days a passerby could see him raise his fist at its high bell tower, forever silent and unused and indeed devoid of a bell at all. Jack would shout obscenities at it with all the passion of a preacher before calming himself, shaking his head sadly and walking onwards, ever onwards.

This day was no different. Jack shuffled along the edge of King Alfred’s Square, his rheumy eyes fixed upon the church in the near distance and yet it could have been miles away from the old man, for all he could see through the fog of his poor eyesight. His old woollen coat was pulled tight against his emaciated frame in a vain attempt to keep the wind out. The temperature had plummeted overnight and his shuffling steps were now hampered by small patches of ice on the ground, the first sure sign of the oncoming winter. Had Jack been in possession of all his wits, no doubt the mere thought of the punishing cold to come would have been enough to convince him to seek assistance from the council with finding somewhere warm to sleep at night.

He slowly made his way towards Winchester Street, the smell of the curry house there strong on the biting wind despite it being too early for the restaurant to serve anyone. Jack smacked his lips involuntarily, the brief image of a spicy food appearing in his confused mind before disintegrating and being replaced once again by the meaningless buzz of his thoughts. He took his final step in King Alfred’s Square, turning as he always did to face towards the church before looking to take his first step into Winchester Street.

But someone was in his footprint. “’Ello Jack,” said Reece Walters, sneering momentarily, “Need to ‘ave a word in your shell-like...”

The old man looked at him in confusion before Jack found himself lifted clear of the ground by the massive Jonah Stamboli who wrapped his thick arms around the filthy old man, wrinkling his wide nose in disgust as he dumped the old man in the back of the transit van parked at the junction between Winchester Street and St Alfred’s Square.

“Time you told us what you know, old-timer,”said Walters, “Been a long time comin’, I’m sure you’d agree...”

Stamboli slammed the rear doors and the van’s engine started. Walters turned to look at St. John’s, his beady eyes narrowing in the morning light before he climbed into the passenger seat of the van, shutting the door behind him quickly as it sped off down the backstreets of East Rhodes.

To be continued

(c) James Batty 2011

The Dance Of The Crow And The Frog

2011-10-24T18:47:00.002+01:00

The crow crowed to see such fun

A glint in his eye that may have been the sun

He laughed in derision at the frog at his feet

“You’re nought but bones and thin stringy meat!”

The frog looked up to regard the crow with large bulbous eyes

“That’s as maybe but I can swim as well as you can fly”

The crow cackled madly thinking this frog such a fool

The frog blinked once and said “I challenge you to a duel”

The crow cocked his head and narrowed his beady eyes

“You can’t hope to swim as fast as this crow can fly!”

The frog stood his ground and gave the crow a crafty glance

“I don’t mean to have a race; I mean to beat you at dance!”

The crow rolled around all laughter and guffaws

As the frog cleared the ground for a makeshift dancefloor

“What a silly little contest I shall beat you so simply!”

The frog just said nothing, looking at his feet so green and pimply

“A-one, and a-two...” and off danced the frog

Skipping majestically through leaves and over a log

The crow watched astonished at the pivots and turns

As the graceful little frog pirouetted amongst the ferns

“I can do that,” said the crow, “Now you just watch”

As he fluffed out his feathers and skipped like hopscotch

The frog came to a standstill and looked at the crow

“You’re not really so good, I thought you should know”

The crow got angry and danced all the faster

Leaving the ground as he got all in a lather

“See how high I can jump, I’m better than you!”

As his wings bore him aloft with a flutter or two

Frog shook his head “No that’s not it at all!”

“You’ve got to go higher, over that garden wall!”

And crow jumped with a flap clearing the stones

Tucking his wings in he fell suddenly with a breaking of bones

“You tricked me!” he moaned, as he lay in a heap

“The wall was too high and the fall was too steep!”

Frog hopped down beside him, the distance no bother

“Well you should think twice before you’re rude to another”

And so at last we come to the moral of our tale

Be kind to one another and you can’t ever fail

Celebrate your differences and encourage others to try

Because it doesn’t really matter if you swim or if you fly

Night Town - Part Two

2011-09-19T20:55:00.002+01:00

Steve Garron looked through the steamed-up window of his family saloon out into the rain-soaked streets, blinking his eyes blearily. The car sat idling, the familiar chug-chug of the old engine working underneath the dented hood, still covered with a layer of faded blue metallic paint like the remnant of the 1980’s that it was. One headlight stretched some thirty feet in front of the car, the lashing rain drops falling through its beam to impact the puddles and tarmac of the old back-alley street. He disconnected his seat belt, easing himself back in the over-comfortable, incredibly well-worn driving seat and rested his eyes. Just for a moment, he told himself. Just one little moment, God please.

He thought back to his life before... before all this; before the sodden darkness, before the grey walls and the grimy floors... And before that fucking shop. Inhaling, he could almost smell the smoke of the cigarettes he used to smoke but instead, he found his senses assailed by the stench of cheap perfume, mould, old fast food and spilled, stale coffee. Exhaling, he fought the desire to scream in abject frustration, the feeling building within him but then suddenly dissipating with nothing more than a whimper that seemed to come from deep within his soul. Shame overwhelmed him.

“Shit, Stevey, this is really not going anywhere.”

The whore removed her head from Steve’s lap, wiping her mouth with the back of a dirty hand. Her ruby lipstick was smeared slightly onto her chin and cheek and her mascara had run from having to be stood out in the rain before she had got into Steve’s car. She clawed at her frizzy black hair with her false nails before adjusting her sagging breasts underneath her off-white crop top.

“Your little man just won’t sit up tonight, huh? That’s the third time this week, Stevey. I can’t give you no more freebies. Jason will beat me black and blue if I don’t get somethin’ from this. It’s been twenty minutes....”

Steve opened his eyes slowly, taking his time to focus on the haggard, drug-addled face of Mo Baggs, the busiest hooker this side of East Rhodes. He felt sad, ashamed and resentful, all at once.

“Get the fuck out of my car, Mo.”

Annoyance flickered across Mo’s eyes and her mouth turned up into a little sneer as she realised that Steve wasn’t about to pay her a damn thing for having her mouth around his flaccid member for twenty minutes. Twenty freakin’ minutes, what the hell is wrong with me?

“Oh I get you now, Stevey. You think I do this for fucking fun? You think I want your tiny prick in this beautiful mouth? Damn you to hell, you fucking freak! Don’t come calling round here no more! None of the bitches in this street would treat you half as good as I have!”

Steve sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, gripping it tightly until one of his knuckles cracked under the pressure. When he removed his hand, the white finger marks on his face turned back to a shade of pink slowly as circulation was restored. His green eyes bored into the prostitute and Mo visibly quailed under the glare.

“I said...

get...

the fuck...

OUT!”

Screaming the last word at her, Steve gripped the steering wheel, shaking involuntarily as his face contorted in rage. Mo had never got out of a car so damn fast in all her born days, leaving the door wide open as she fled shrieking down a side street. The rain began to lash into the car through the open door as Steve stared after the fleeing whore. Reaching over, he slammed the door shut before punching the steering wheel, hard. The horn sounded loudly in the back street, seemingly bouncing off the walls and adding to Steve’s dark mood. He gritted his teeth and looked over his shoulder, belting himself in before reversing out of the alley and heading for home.

Cruising slowly through the adverse weather conditions, it took Steve some twenty minutes to get home, parking his old car outside the front of the tenement block before stepping out into the rain and walking up the concrete steps to the front door. Some dumb fuck left it open again, Steve thought to himself. Is it any wonder the crime rate round here is through the friggin’ ceiling?

Steve would know. He used to be a Police officer himself, a detective no less. Fifteen years on the force, fifteen years where he gave his all, body and soul to the job that gave him next to diddly squat in return. Reams of paperwork, endless hours working in half light, fluorescent light or no fucking light at all, typing away, scribbling in a notebook or listening to the general public telling him how THEY were the victim and how THEY paid HIS wages.

Well not anymore. Steve jacked it in before the job jacked him in. Up on some trumped up disciplinary charges for allegedly helping himself to a few ounces of coke at a crime scene, he was looking at an end to his detective career and a return to uniform if not the loss of his job completely. Better to leave before all that, to keep his pension intact. Of course, his wife didn’t see it that way. She saw him as a deadbeat: Deadbeat husband, deadbeat dad. Shirley fled with the kids to her mothers, and then promptly took him to cleaners when she decided to divorce him on the grounds of facing “irreconcilable differences”. Yeah, Steve thought, irreconcilable if you mean fucking your gym instructor every day whilst your husband is at work, then complaining when he ain’t able to fund your gym membership when he loses his job.

Steve turned to drink after that. He made a new friend in Mister Jack and the two had been inseparable ever since. Losing his home, Steve had moved to East Rhodes and managed to land a flat in one of the 1960’s tenement blocks with all the other deadbeats. Steve, though, didn’t see it that way. After all, Steve had the shop. That fucking shop.

Jem Boon had been one of the massive varieties of old folk living in the same block as Steve. He ran a junk shop that he had named “Old Curiosity” and he’d been running that shop for forty years. He had never made a bean from it but Steve had found an odd comfort in helping the old timer run it. Jem had been ninety-five when Steve met him and a damned heavy smoker. He had a habit of coughing up black tar but swore blind that smoking was the reason he had lived so long. Of course, it was also the reason he spent his days in a wheelchair after he had both legs removed when suffering from DVT. That alone was enough to get Steve to give up smoking. Steve had known Jem for only three months when the old man popped his clogs and was found dead in his chair in the only working lift in the block. Some local kids found him like that but it was several hours before the police were made aware because the kids thought it would be great to wheel his body out to the skate park and use him to jump over on their bikes and skateboards. Fucking animals.

Jem left “Old Curiosity” to Steve in his will, a fact that shocked Steve and shocked him even more when he saw the state of the books. Jem evidently had never filed a tax return and had never declared an income, registering the premises as a hobby rather than a business. He was technically in breach of commercial regulations governing the usage of the property but if the council didn’t care, then neither did Jem. But the books weren’t Steve’s only problem with the place. He was confident he could scratch a living selling the odds and sods that were stored in the expansive warehouse out back to passing trade, but it was the protection racket in East Rhodes that would drive him out of business.

Griff Bolton took a mere three days after Steve re-opened the store following Jem’s death to come knocking, demanding payment and making his threats on behalf of some Under-baron or other. Steve had never taken much interest in the dealings of the Underworld, even during his time as a detective, working instead in vice and using it to meet his own ends, to his eternal shame. He’d never taken those drugs; he knew that much, but Jonny Del Soro, that sack of shit that was Steve’s sergeant on the vice squad had clearly set him up. He wouldn’t have put it past Jonny to stitch up any other detective on the team if it meant getting ahead himself. He was more cut-throat than half the scumbags they nicked week in and week out.

But Griff was something else. He was a huge, muscular man with a shaven head and a tendency to foam at the mouth when speaking, if you could call it that. Fists the size of hams, tattoo’s covering his brawny arms and a barrel chest that simply served to reaffirm his physical dominance, Griff was not a man for Steve to mess with. He saw that, but resented handing over any of his takings to this thug. If it meant his shop was safe from looters, burglars and shoplifters then so much the better, but that clearly wasn’t happening. His calls to the local Police fell on deaf ears. “Another shoplifting, Mister Garron? We’ll record it for you. Here’s your crime number.” Fat lot of fucking good that was when he had no insurance to claim off and no known value to anything that was stolen.

Steve climbed the stairs of the tenement block, refusing to use the lift ever since Jem had died in it. When he reached his flat door, he unlocked it and stepped inside into the gloom. Shutting the door behind him, he bolted it top and bottom before leaning a timber post against it and bracing it against a concrete pillar that rose unceremoniously out of the floor to disappear into the cracked ceiling above like a tower of depression all of its own. Dumping his car keys on the moth-eaten sofa he strode through to the kitchen, wearily, kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his faded brown trench coat, a remnant from his policing past. It fell wetly to the floor. Reaching for a bottle of Jack on the kitchen side, Steve thought about getting a glass but then eyed the stack of dirty dishes, cups and glasses by the sink and decided against it, choosing instead to take a deep draught straight from the bottle. Walking into his bedroom, he lay on the bed and looked up at the ceiling, cris-crossed with stress fractures and old artex, he found the lines blurring the more he drank until finally he slipped into drunken oblivion.

Steve woke from his sleep, gasping for breath. The tiny, damp bedroom he slept in was cold and dark, illuminated only by the flickering streetlamp outside his window. Despite the cold he had been sweating in his sleep and he could feel it beading on his upper lip. He felt like he was having a heart attack and lurched to his feet unsteadily, fighting for breath and wrenching open the rotting wooden window in his room, looking out into the street below and sucking in a great lungful of cold, semi-fresh night air. His vision swam as he fought to slow his breathing before finally mastering his physical self once more. Looking back at the bed, he noticed a patch of blood where his head had been. Reaching a hand up to his face, he found more of it clinging dryly to the bristles on his chin. Frowning and suddenly worried, he turned to the small, dirty mirror on the wall beside his chest of drawers and as the streetlamp outside flickered on for a few brief seconds Steve saw that he had been bleeding from the eyes, the twin reddish-brown lines running from both corners of his eyes and down over the sides of his cheeks onto his chin.

In the street below Steve’s window, something awoke.

To be continued

Night Town - Part One

2011-09-04T20:35:00.001+01:00

People thought Jack was crazy. He always wore the same clothes, always walked the same four streets and always said the same few words: “So it ends.” Jack wasn’t even his real name. No one knew who he really was. No one took the time to really give a shit. All they saw was a broken old man, thin and wrinkled, smelling strongly of two parts body odour to one part urine with a hint of cast-off cigarette ends and a light sprinkling of general refuse. His heavy green trench coat had more holes in it than a Labour party manifesto but he always pulled it tight over his bony, stooping frame with one hand wearing a woollen glove that was fingerless from overuse, not by design.

“So it ends”, he would say with utter conviction if anyone managed to catch his rheumy eye. He normally followed this with a good-humoured cackle, as if expecting the recipient of his sage words to sufficiently understand his meaning. Sullen hoppers during the day and black-eyed clubbers at night would see him between Elderberry Lane, Winchester Street, Thorburn Avenue and King Alfred Place where he would be constantly circuiting or pausing for rest in a shop doorway. Locals had named him Jack, but those in the know referred to him as the Invisible Man, his constant walking going so unnoticed by the general population who passed by him, going about their daily routines and continuing on to their dingy, but warm homes or air-conditioned office buildings without even so much as acknowledging the old-timers existence.

By contrast, Darion Montrose was king of the streets. His word was law in a city filled with broken promises, dispirited manic-depressives and violent outbursts. Streetlights rarely worked at night, causing an almost everlasting dark gloom over the streets that were lit with nothing more than the light from city centre apartment windows and the odd commercial premises that deigned to leave their lights on overnight. Piles of discarded rubbish, faeces of dog and human origin alike and dirty rainwater run-off and automobile carbon covered the brick roads of the city centre like a mire of filth.

But here was where Darion had risen to power. From his early days as a drug runner for Two-Fingers and a “heavy” for Marchbank Adams, he had finally seized control for himself in 2004 after dispatching the self-styled Marquis Bane with nothing more than a switchblade knife and a cool smile during a drinking session as they watched a football match. Darion could still remember the Underlord’s warm, thick blood running over his hands like a viscous wine. Victory was a sweet moment and Darion had made best use of his good fortune to run the downtrodden area of East Rhodes, organizing Gangers to extract payment from shop owners and bank managers, running a lucrative protection racket that enabled him to pursue his own interests in debauchery and lust. Darion had become a name that was synonymous with fear for the inhabitants of East Rhodes, their rent payments falling as Darion took control of the rental market, running so-called safehouses for the unemployed, the drug addicts and the prostitutes, then flogging them cheap drugs to keep them hooked and beholden to him, making sure they could never afford to move elsewhere. Darion had eyes on every street corner and in every level of society, his so-called black rats but even he was dumbfounded by the sudden disappearances occurring on his patch. Gang members, prostitutes, cutpurses, pickpockets and thugs had been going missing for weeks.

The Police had done nothing to try and solve the problem. The local Inspector had reacted with some glee when the problem was mentioned to him by Darion during their last meet, even though the Inspector was pocketing a nice fat bonus for him to keep Police attention elsewhere and away from the activities of one Darion Montrose. Inspector Pidgley may have been a greedy son of a bitch, but he still took unrequited pleasure in the suffering of criminals. It was clear that Montrose would need to deal with this issue by himself. Normally missing people wasn’t an issue for him, they always turned up somewhere in some failed attempt to leave the life of grime they had been drawn into and requiring little persuasion to return to it when given their options – work for Montrose or find themselves in an unmarked grave outside the city.

However, now Darion was starting to lose money. Profits were down, unrest was rising and persuading people to carry out his work for him was becoming more difficult. Some of the Under-barons were becoming restless, questioning his authority and even gathering for secret meetings in the mistaken belief that he did not know about it. Darion knew about it alright. His black rats would consistently return to him with information in the hopes of receiving a small wrap of heroin or a minor cash incentive. Sometimes the information he was brought was of particularly poor quality but such are the potential pitfalls when giving rewards for information. Darion would listen with a practiced ear and judge its authenticity before handing out an appropriate reward. Many had been the occasions where he had dispensed a beating upon a scummer who provided what he took to be bogus information in the hope of getting something for nothing. No one got something for nothing, even Darion knew that.

And so here he sat in Warehouse 19c, the seat of his power in the district and his main base of operations. Before him on an old gurney lay the remains of Griff Bolton, one-time heavy and normally reliable drugs runner for Darion’s chief Under-baron, Reece Walters. Beside the gurney, Doctor Marshak stood nervously as he had been for the last few minutes as Darion regarded the corpse of Bolton coolly and with evident disdain upon his angular features. Darion broke the silence with his trademark gravelly voice.

“Christ, Doc, he’s a fucking mess. What the hell happened?”

Startled out of his nervousness, Doctor Marshak stammered in response, casting an anxious eye over the torn corpse beside him as if seeking a medical explanation where previously he had not found one after spending hours looking at it.

“I... I think it’s safe to say that death was a violent and bloody affair, Mister Montrose. I’ve not been able to determine cause of death, but...”

“Safe to say cause of death is pretty bloody obvious, Marshak. He’s been torn apart! Jeez, he friggin’ stinks as well...”

“Yes, he has soiled himself post-mortem. This is quite common and... Well, what I mean to say is that the multiple lacerations and the amount of force that was required to cause this kind of injury is fairly substantial.”

“Yeah, no shit. Whoever did this just knocked fifty-freakin’-grand off my monthly takings.”

Marshak swallowed noisily, his throat dry and his forehead beaded with sweat. He ran a suddenly rubbery hand over his bald pate and adjusted his black-rimmed spectacles upon his nose before he licked his lips with a rough, dry tongue and continued.

“I think we’re talk about ‘what’, rather than ‘who’, Mister Montrose...”

Darion frowned, his forehead creasing around an ugly scar that ran from his left temple to the front of his hairline like a jagged white smile. Taking his mahogany-coloured eyes off the corpse for the first time, he looked at the doctor stood before him and lifted a hand off the arm of his favourite padded, green-leather armchair and rested his chin upon it.

“What are you getting at, Doc? Are you saying this wasn’t done by a man?”

“I’m saying this... this bears the hallmarks of a wild animal attack, Mister Montrose. I’m no veterinarian but you see here... and here...” Marshak pointed with a small steel pen to a number of lacerations on the chest and what remained of the face of the shredded cadaver on the gurney. “Those injuries are representative of claw marks and bite marks. I would need to speak with an expert to try and determine a species, but I’m confident this is not a human kill. Large areas of flesh, such as the buttocks and thighs have been torn away and I would suggest it is reasonable to assume that these areas have been consumed.”

“Shitting hell. You better make sure you’re right, Marshak. How the fuck could a wild animal have gotten into East Rhodes? We’re freaking miles away from the edge of the city! Are we talking a wild dog here or what?”

“I think not. I don’t know for sure but whatever animal caused this, I am ninety-nine per cent certain it would have to be significantly larger than any breed of dog I know to cause this kind of injury.”

Darion ran a rough hand over his stubbly face, scratching absently as he closed his eyes for a moment. He responded to Doctor Marshak in a resigned tone. “Fine, source yourself an expert. But we keep this strictly between us, Doc. You hear me? I don’t need this shit getting out to the streets and stirring the pot further. Fuck this up and your ass is on the line. We need to find out what the hell is doing this and put a stop to it before my workforce gets freaked out any further. If they stop being able to move about my streets freely, my profits will take the hit. And if they take a hit, you can bet your ass that you will take a hit too, Marshak.”

Doctor Marshak nodded nervously. Darion waved him away absently with one hand and then turned to look out of the window behind him and out into the streets of the industrial park set out before him. A niggling fear in the back of his mind kept telling him that he should cut his losses and get the hell out of East Rhodes. Balling a fist, he slammed it into the window sill before him and shook his head. I’ll be damned before I give up now. Not when I’m so fuckin’ close.

To be continued...

Little Lamb Lost

2011-07-23T23:47:00.000+01:00

You come to me as you’re lost, little lamb

You ask things of me that are not mine to give

I say that I won’t but you know that I can

This is no way for any man to live

If your fleece were as lies then a blanket I’d of spun

Soft and white like the skin upon your face

But to look upon it is to burn like the sun

You have made me want to leave this place

Your bleating is like pain unto mine ears

Breaking down my soul and tearing down walls

Your demands grow like the greatest of fears

Trying to make me stumble, hoping that I fall

But I see beneath your coat so white and pure

I must resolve now to face the future alone

You are no lamb but a wolf, of that I’m sure

You want to chase me down, to gnaw upon my bones

For though you are lost indeed, little lamb

As are we all and to ourselves we must look

Your smiles and your laughs are nothing but a sham

Time to pay for all those lives that you took

Is That It?

2011-06-12T13:26:00.002+01:00

There comes a time in your life, I think, when you begin to wonder what it's all for. Some call this a "crisis", others say it hasn't happened to them and they don't think too deeply about such things and in many respects, I wish I was like that. One of my main problems/quirks/whatever is that I think very deeply. I don't like the traditional view of the world where a man or woman must work to provide for others, must forsake themselves and often their dreams simply to survive in a society that is not designed to cater to individuals but to the "greater good" of all.

I recently read that the singer Adele was angry that she had to pay 50% of her earnings in income tax now that she was being paid over the threshold required (£150,000). There are two schools of thought over this, the first being that she's a greedy gobshite who, despite earning something like £8million and having to forefeit 50% of that in tax feels that she deserves not to have to pay such a high rate of tax because "Its not fair". There are others who sympathize with her and say that she deserves not to be taxed such a large amount because "She's earned it". Far be it from me to criticize someone on their choice of career but many people not in that line of work would suggest that being a singer can be considered to be relatively easy "job", albeit in my view that is highly dependant on how hard you strive for recognition of your work. Surely the harder you strive, the better the results? (Unless the music you produce really is quite poor or aimed at a niche industry) In any event, Adele is still rich beyond most people's imaginations.

Perhaps she can now afford some elocution lessons? Yes, I'm a snob like that. Deal with it.

The point I'm trying to make here is that you feel like you put your heart and soul into what you do but you get very little out of it by way of a reward. The very idea of money as a reward is somewhat perplexing because I think money is an awful thing that drives people to ruin themselves or others in pursuit of it, but no matter how much we loathe our dependence on it, depend on it we must and therefore it makes personal sense to go out and obtain as much of it as you can in order to try and live the kind of life you want to lead. The fact that some people have more than others is because either they've worked hard and pursued such levels of monetary gain or they have been in the fortunate position of being born into it or gifted with it. It is easy for those of us who don't have it to resent those who do. Too easy.

Perhaps I live in something of a dream world where I would love to be able to simply walk away from all this and set up home somewhere quiet and not be bothered by things great and small so that I can explore the things I would like to do. In my mind I view that as acheivable, yet in reality I see it as something I would have to work very, very hard to pull off and that can be a galling prospect. We have a finite amount of time on this planet and I often wonder whether it would really be worth pushing myself like that for however long I need to to acheive that end. Do I really want to work so hard for something I may only be able to enjoy for a short period of time? Can I really predict that it would ever happen the way I want it to? The future is no less uncertain no matter how much you look at it and try and guess the likely outcome of things.

So in retrospect, I think there is some sense in saying we should "live for the moment", "enjoy the now" or whatever other cliches you can think of because the fact is you never know what could happen. You never know who will be with you on your journey or whether their journey will end before or after your own one does. I don't like that situation and it doesn't sit right with me. It seems incredibly unfair. But then life is. Many things have taught me that. I can be quite a pragmatic individual, not prone to displays of emotion or even particularly affection, perhaps because I struggle to accept such things outside of family and close friends. It takes me a long while to accept people and consider them friends, but when I do, then they're someone I care about.

So what is it all about? I guess we may never know. Even when you think you do, ultimately something happens that makes you question it. And I guess we wouldn't be human unless we questioned everything now would we? If it rains, it rains.

Hulk

2011-04-30T12:21:00.004+01:00

And so I shall tell you the truth of it. All you know now, all you have ever known is nought but lies. The lies have been spun from the mouths of those who would seek to hide the shameful past of humanity. For in its darkest hour, they were the ones who made the ultimate sacrifice. There are few of us left from those years in the void, our silence bought by the promise of the life we want without fear of persecution or scrutiny and yet we know they watch us. They watch us, they listen to us and they make sure we tow the line. Those who do not? I would not burden you with that knowledge. Now listen, this will take some time…

It was the year 3129 when humankind was reduced to a population of no more than fourteen million, cast adrift into the void of space upon three gigantic space frigates named The Shining Beacon, The Day’s Beginning and The Dream Seeker. No one knows what cataclysm caused the sundering of Urth and the fleeing of our race from our home planet, though speculation was rife with some claiming Urth had been poisoned by years of war and manufacturing whilst others claim the world was being reclaimed at a ferocious rate by the Nay-chure whom originally held sway over the planet before humans existed. The massive hulk ships were constructed in orbit over the course of some seventy Urth years and through some long forgotten technology, the remaining population was transported to the huge frigates and, save a few brave souls who stayed behind to see that the giant ships were launched successfully with the correct launch protocols from Urth, we were then cast into the expanse of the galaxy to seek a new world, or worlds, to settle. We have forgotten more than we can now ever know again.

In the year 5297, according to the ship computer, our fuel was long since expended, the vast hulks drifting through space propelled only by their onward momentum along charted routes provided by the Astronome, an ancient organisation originally based on Urth that provided the safest route through the known galaxies aiming the blunt-faced frigates at planets believed to contain atmosphere’s similar to what our own once was, countless light years away from Urth. The launch of the frigates was timed to the second, designed to direct us through space without colliding with any planets or moons on the way. Though these wise men and women were undoubtedly the best in their field, from time to time the ships would encounter meteors swarms and we would confine ourselves to our meagre quarters as the ancient ships shuddered and vibrated with each jarring impact of space rocks against the hulls. Breaches of the hull had happened before; usually resulting in loss of life and with little in the way of raw materials for repairs, sometimes whole sections of the ships would be forever sealed off, never to be used again.

Electricity was in short supply, our power generated only by the light of a dying Sun upon the solar panels at the rear and sides of the vessels; the solar energy harvested growing weaker by the inexorable passage of time as we drifted soundlessly through the vacuum of space. Such power that we had was rationed to each family, providing enough for one bathful of warm recycled water and twenty daily minutes of re-heat for the distributed rationed food that was grown in the dermoglas houses on the exterior of the ships’ hulls. The onboard lighting was provided by the Gaje, strange worm-like creatures that remained frozen in blocks of preserved Arktik ice, radiating a light-blue glow said to be the result of having previously lived their lives thousands of feet below the surface of the Arktik Sea back on Urth, then becoming trapped in the ice each year when they returned to their spawning grounds before the melts happened and they returned to the sea bed once more. Oddly, they appeared to require no known sustenance and were often a source of keen scientific debate on board the The Dream Seeker amongst the Learned caste. Micro-organisms in the ice were apparently required to assist in sanitising the atmosphere of any planet we finally reached. I didn’t know much about the science involved as being just a lowly member of the Worker caste, educayshun was not something necessarily afforded to us, certainly not beyond that which we would need to carry out our assigned tasks.

We were all vegetarians then, living off a carefully cultivated and selected diet of plants chosen by the Growers before we originally left Urth. The plants we ate had been meticulously evolved throughout the long centuries of space travel to provide us with every nutrient we could need and incredibly could “breathe” from the void, expelling waste in the form of water and oxygen for all onboard to consume and inhale, only to be recycled and reused again and again. Massive tanks of their pure water were held in stasis within the giant hold of The Dream Seeker, to be used only when a crop of the plants had failed or was infected with some strange space-born virus. The air on board was recycled and always stale, making us prone to catching infections. Medician’s with their curious face masks and long, flowing coats of grey were a common sight on board.

I knew no other life, born as I was on board The Dream Seeker to aging parents. Back then, couples were not allowed to have children until they were in their forties due to the pressure of limited space upon the hulks, and then only one child per couple was allowed. Forced abortions were not uncommon and amongst the Worker caste this was resented, as with little else in the way of entertainment it was a hell of a price to pay for engaging in the act of physical lovemaking. Old age was frowned upon with the Humane Doctrine that we were all forced to live by stating that the elderly must jettison themselves into the void upon reaching the age of sixty years to prevent overpopulation or becoming a burden to the “Hive”, as the ship was commonly referred to. And, I guess a hive is exactly what it was. Everyone worked like bee-drones, serving the needs of the community and then sacrificing themselves when their usefulness began to drop off. Survival of the fittest, you could say. I thought it was evil then, and as I look back now my opinion hasn’t changed. Those due to be jettisoned would be paraded as heroes, a party would be thrown in their honour and then at the press of a button once they had entered the “Enlightenment Chamber” as it was so sanctimoniously called, they were cast into the vacuum of space like common trash.

And so each person was born into a caste. The Workers did the donkey work. The lifting, the carrying, the cleaning and the myriad of minor jobs that the other castes felt were beneath them. The Warriors maintained order on board the ship and investigated the crimes among the community. Their justice was dispensed quickly, efficiently and without mercy. An eye for an eye was the only law, dispensed by the huge men and women of that caste. There were never grounds for appeal against the judgements of a Warrior but in the main, the Warrior’s were stout-hearted, honest and true to their ideals of fairness and accountability. Of course, there were always rumours that some of them were being paid off, dispensing their own version of “justice” following a back-hand payment from a member of the Learned caste or by the Princelings, the ruling caste onboard each vessel.

And the Princelings “governed” us, for lack of a better term. There were no elections open to the masses, no major decisions to be made by any except those who were born into their caste with each family of Princelings taking their turn to rule for ten Urth years at a time, before cycling to the next family in line. I make it sound so simple, yet there was much political wrangling and dealing between families so that those who by rights were next in line could be passed over in favour of another should the head of each other household agree it.

With no way to travel between the vessels, communication was rare for there was never any news that required such and no way of sending aid to each ship even if it was desperately needed. Such communication as was used between ships was conducted by Astropaths, those few among us who had defied their birth caste and developed the ability to cast their thoughts across the void to make contact with similar individuals on board the other ships, passing news and other communications without the need to use any precious electrical energy. These Astropaths were awed and feared in equal measure by the non-path’s onboard or “Non’s” as they called us. They were free to move about the ship as they pleased; defying the caste area restrictions because what they had and could offer to the Princelings was worth more than a year’s supply of electricity: The ability to read thoughts and project them to others. Such perks as could be offered on board were theirs to enjoy. Women, men, water, and electricity, almost anything they could want. They were the only ones among us who were allowed to have more than one child, in the hopes that one of their offspring would display similar abilities. If the child reached five years of age without the powers being manifest, they were cast into the void with the next batch of Elders, like they were nothing but refuse. How their mothers would weep.

Aboard our ship, one of the Astropath’s had surpassed the mental powers of any of his kin and was the only known Kinepath, one capable of both telepathic as well as telekinetic abilities, able to move objects with merely a thought. Basius. His name was like a shadow on all our hearts, for he had no master, no mistress and no morals. He was both the greatest and the least amongst us. His mind was as sharp as, and his heart as hard as a diamond. He alone among us seemed destined to decide the fate of mankind aboard those ancient vessels.

And such is the way of man. Existence for the sake of existence is not our way. We strive to achieve fulfilment and Basius, cruel Basius was the very embodiment of ambition, ever seeking self actualisation. What follows here now is my tale. I am Andar and I have no surname for I was not born with one. I will tell you of the fate of mankind, for I was there. Brothers of Urth, what I say to you now will take hold of your very soul. I urge you to walk away from my fire-pit now, should you not wish to take on this burden: The burden of Truth.

Never Forget

2011-04-07T22:38:00.001+01:00

This week has been one enlightening week. I have relived moments from a decade or more ago and laid under the night sky, reminiscing with old friends about what was, what wasn’t and what could have been. Thinking back, we agreed that in our first twenty years of life, we achieved so much more than we had done in the last decade. Aged 18 or 19, we spent summer days on grassy hills, looking up at the sky and talking about the things we thought were important at the time – namely our dreams and our relationships, or lack thereof. The future was miles away; we had no responsibilities, no dependants, no ties, and no real worries. Our biggest worry (If you could call it that) was whether we were going to meet someone and fall in love or whether that person we fancied was ever going to fancy us back. University was the next logical step in our lives and at no point did it enter our minds that one day we would look back and wonder what the hell happened.

Well I’m asking it now: Just what the hell happened?

Nowadays people just can’t be arsed to get up, go out and DO things together anymore. They wait for YOU to contact THEM. They cry off things because it’s too far, too expensive or because they just can’t be bothered. What happened to the spark of youth, the willingness to go out whenever you were asked and wherever you fancied? What stopped us from being those same people we were a decade ago? We’ve all been guilty of this at some point. If you deny that then I call you a damned liar.

Each of us took different paths. Some finished Uni; some didn’t. Some moved away; some didn’t. One thing we all succumbed to was not making the effort to stay in touch with one another and continuing to meet regularly. My dream when I was 18 was not being tied down to one particularly dirty shit-hole of a street and making a career of being told what to do day in and day out by other people who don’t know me, don’t know who I am or what I want to be and don’t even care about that besides.

What happened about working for me and my dreams? What happened about doing what needed to be done in order to achieve the things I wanted to achieve? You get ground down, slowly and inexorably by the things that other people dictate to you are the right ways to live your life. You fall into the steady, plodding routine of working yourself to the bone day after relentless day for something or someone that is NOT your brainchild, NOT necessarily something you believe in and usually NOT something that is rewarding for you on an emotional, financial, physical or even spiritual level. Why? Why do we do this?

Because this is what we are told our lives must be like, that’s why. We’re told we must work for society practically every day of our adult lives, not in order to live comfortably, but to better the organisation or person that you work for. If you own or run that organisation or work for yourself then you are in the right place to be able to try and achieve your early goals. If you don’t, then you are simply working for someone or something else. If you’re happy with that then good for you, enjoy it. I don’t enjoy it. I refuse to salute and celebrate my own mediocrity and I will be damned if I put up with it any longer than I have to. Things have to change, not because I am having a “crisis”, not because I am a “rebel” or a non-conformist, but because this is not who I am.

Who I am has never changed. Who I am was obvious and known to me ever since I was a teenager. I am not blind to the difficulties inherent in making the changes that I want to make, but I am not about to let those obstacles prevent me from doing what I need to be done. It won’t happen overnight; it won’t happen within the next few months even, but my goals are clear to me now and I know what I must do to work towards them.

And I will achieve them. I fucking will.

The Musing Mailbag Issue 1

2011-01-17T20:44:00.003Z

I'm delving into the post-bag this week to see if I can help people out there in the blogosphere. I plan to address the problems of anyone who chooses to submit their particular issue to me. I will obviously keep things confidential and remove names and places and make some more edits if necessary to hide someone's identity if they feel the need, but I fully intend to post the problems and my solutions here on Musings Of The Mind. So without further ado, I give you my first few problems for which I have offered advice:

From: Mr P. Enlargement
To: Jay

Q: Dear Jay, I seem to be absolutely obssessed with the size of male appendages. I really don't know what to do but I find myself emailing people indescriminately about their manhood and I think it may actually be having a negative impact on both my popularity and on the male perception of a healthy penis size. What would you suggest?

A: Thank you for your question, P. In this day and age, mankind has never been more obssessed with image at any time in our history, I would suggest. It is not unusual for you to worry about penis size, most men have an inbuilt insecurity about their own either for being too small, too big or the wrong shape entirely. You are not alone in this regard so take heart from that. Whatever size or shape you are, you're probably perfectly normal and can stand at a urinal without fear of being smirked at by the man stood next to you because he'll be too concerned about making sure his own looks normal. Unless your winkle is shaped like a "U" or a "Z", in which case I don't think I can help you and would recommend you speak to a doctor. Oh, and I would stop emailing people about their own penis size, it may make you feel better about your own but you will soon find you have no friends left. Believe me, I know.

From: Chairman Adowimbe Mohambu, Chief Executive of the Nigerian Bank of England, Scotland and Iceland
To: Jay

Q: Dear Jay, I seem to have some serious problems with cash flow at the moment. No one I speak to seems willing to help and yet I'm offering an above market rate incentive to get things moving along. I don't get it, what am I doing wrong?

A: Chairman, thank you for your question. In these tough economic times, you are one of a whole batch of people who seem to be suffering from similar problems. In your case, it seems money as an incentive doesn't seem to be working. I would recommend taking a closer look at your target market here. Money does seem to make the world go round but if you are looking to attract business, it may well take more than money alone. I look to myself here as an example. I have very little money to speak of and yet I attract business offers everyday just by walking up and down the street outside my flat... Try appealing to your target market with something other than money. I find the offer of a pint or some chocolate buttons gets me very far, particularly with the ladies!

-----------------------

And that's all we have time for this week folks. Anyone who wishes to submit a problem to Agony Uncle Jay can contact me at saruth_scarophion@hotmail.com and you too could be featured right here on Musings Of The Mind next week...

Til The Fat Lady Sings

2011-01-17T20:42:00.000Z

You’re down on your knees for the third time this week

People are talking about you; they think you’re a freak

It’s too much responsibility for one girl to take

One kid’s asleep but the other’s awake

What will it take to set your world to rights?

An end to the shouting, the stress and the fights

Too much, too young it’s too real to be fake

You console yourself with wine and a big slice of cake

You’ve been left all alone to fend for yourself

Stuck in your flat, love-life on the shelf

Wondering when you will get your big break

And just when your bones will no longer ache

The irony is you’ve shown resilience and desire

To better yourself and save your dreams from the fire

So next time you think you’ve had all you can take

You must steel yourself and then bend, not break

Festive Scorn

2010-12-22T15:28:00.003Z

And it’s Christmas Eve babe

And I’m sitting beside the fire

You took all of my beautiful dreams

And threw them on the pyre

This time of year is meant for hope

And you took all of that too

Why’d you have to be so heartless

And make it all about you?

These gifts I had to give away

Well I’ll take them back again

You cut my skin and broke my heart

When you said “Just let’s be friends”

I deserve more than that, you know I do

Don’t know just what comes next

It was the cruel way you cast me aside

And the fact you did it all by text

Well I’m stronger inside than you’d believe

Won’t let you keep me down forever

I’ll be back next year in the prime of my life

And I won’t think about you ever

So raise a glass in your twisted world

Pretend you’re full of festive cheer

But we both know it can’t be true

Because your heart is ruled by fear

Lookin' Back At The Future

2010-11-25T21:35:00.008Z

We were always drivin’ down that same old dusty street

It was the middle of the summer but we weren’t sweatin’ from the heat

It was the look in your eyes and the taste of your lips

With your hair upon my shoulder and my hand upon your hip

Those were the days my dear, when everything felt so good

Always makin’ love in the back seat, or maybe on the hood

Where have all those days gone, what happened to it all?

Guess they’re lost in the sands of time now we’re no longer standing tall

We just got older without getting wise, our dreams all but forgotten

The taste of life we loved so much ain’t fresh no more, it’s rotten

I don’t catch your eye no more and your hair no longer shines

I still say I love you, but you no longer say you’re mine

So hop on in the front seat babe, let’s turn our life around

Turn the radio up, wind the windows down and get lost in the sound

Let’s drive all night to God knows where and race people off the lights

Let’s find a nice secluded spot and put a ladder in your tights

Love gets old, I know that’s true but maybe it’s like wine

Maybe it’ll get better with age instead of screwing with our minds

So put those slippers away my dear and slip into something revealing

And I’ll do my best to remind you that sex was once appealing

Water, Water, Everywhere Pt. II

2010-11-23T22:35:00.004Z

Jeff trudged along the verge by the side of the road, his black leather boots squelching in the mud and crushing the fallen autumn leaves as he headed towards the address in Harbour Hill. The rain lashed him; flying at him horizontally and making him squint in the dark to avoid it going into his eyes. Jamming the earpiece attachment of his radio into his ear just that little bit further, he tried to hear any updates from the control room but the sound was lost in the howling wind, despite the radio being at maximum volume.

Jeff’s clipboard kept catching on his trouser pocket as he walked slowly but surely towards the address. Jeff wondered to himself why this stretch of road was the only one the council deemed unimportant enough to install a pavement and some street lighting. And they wonder why crime rates are up in the area? Sighing once again, Jeff willed himself to remember that at least he had a nice warm home to go to once the shift was over, and if he was really lucky then he may even get to cuddle up to his frigid wife. Smiling ironically to the rain-filled night, he decided that was a stark improbability seeing as ever since she had given birth to their two children, all she was interested in doing was eating, sleeping and Facebook. No doubt she was already fast asleep in the spare room.

11 Harbour Hill. Jeff chewed his lip thoughtfully as he looked at the house which was all in darkness. A small wrought iron gate swung in the wind on rusty hinges, screeching back at the wind like a hoarse, indignant banshee. Jeff spoke into his personal radio to indicate he had arrived, heard nothing back and shrugged, assuming they had heard him. That or the reception was being as badly affected by the elements as Jeff himself was. Jeff hoped he wouldn’t have to sit down once in the property because he knew that his boxer shorts were as damp as they would be if he had pissed himself. Jeff couldn’t decide which the more preferable option was because at least the urine would be warm. Then again, the smell would be far more noticeable. Realising his thoughts were wandering; Jeff walked through the gate and tried to shut it behind him, but then found that the gate didn’t even have a latch and was just free to swing open at will. Utterly pointless.

He spotted the attempt at crazy paving stepping stones running through an overgrown lawn towards the front door of the house and stepped from stone to stone obligingly before arriving at the front door where he could now get a better look at the property. It was pretty much a standard house, probably two or three bedrooms with pebble-dash concrete on the exterior, indicative of awful 1960’s design creating a very grey and depressing outlook. The windows had obviously seen better days with heavily peeling, off-white paint over rotting wooden frames that contained the single pane of glass. Weatherproof, they certainly weren’t. The front door was wooden as well, with old glass panes at the top buried in the wood like cheap afterthoughts. Jeff knocked on the front door and waited in the rain, the droplets drumming a tattoo on his flat hat that Jeff fancied sounded not unlike "Pomp & Circumstance" and he found himself smiling ever so slightly when the door was finally answered seconds later, not by a person, but opened by a sudden gust of wind revealing an interior shrouded completely in darkness and littered with scattered newspapers.

“Shit.”, said Jeff.

Despite the lack of lighting, Jeff could already make out the faint outline of someone lying on the floor in the hallway at the bottom of a set of rickety-looking stairs that headed up into the gloom of the 1^st floor. Pressing the talk button on his radio, Jeff was rewarded with a sound indicating he had no reception where he was stood. Cursing again, Jeff fished out his mobile phone and suddenly remembered he hadn’t charged the bloody thing and the battery had died before his shift had even started. He would have to go into the house and find a landline or head back to the car. Unfortunately, Jeff knew he had to make the place secure before he could go and get any help and he had a duty to see if he could assist the occupants. Duty called. Duty sucks.

“Oh bloody hell! Here goes nothing then...” Jeff walked through the front door, his heavy boots immediately shedding mud, mulch and water all over the carpet in front of the door. Trying his best to remember to try and preserve the scene, Jeff chose the least likely approach path to the person lying on the shoddy carpet by the stairs; keeping a wary eye on the rest of the premises, his Police baton held in his hand and his clipboard in the other. Jeff fully extended the telescopic baton with a sharp flick of the wrist, the metallic "shunk" of the baton sounding oddly comforting to Jeff. Using a damp sleeve, he switched on a light switch on the wall but no illumination sprang forth and Jeff sighed to himself, wondering if his run of bad luck was going to stick with him throughout the shift.

“Hello, Police...” Jeff called into the premises in a loud, if slightly high-pitched voice, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. He got no response from upstairs and no sound came from the figure who was now clearly face-down on the carpet and not moving. As if in mocking answer to his call, the rusty gate swung on its hinge with a horrid wrenching noise, sending a shiver up Jeff’s spine that he told himself was just the rainwater running down his back.

From stooping over the person on the carpet, Jeff could see that the figure was that of a man with heavily tattooed forearms, wearing a polo-style shirt and sensible, if dirty-looking trousers and that he was barefoot. Jeff ditched his clipboard and reached his free hand towards the shoulder of the man in order to shake him and try and get some kind of response from the man and found that the arm he touched was cold and stiff. Jeff reached into the pocket of his high visibility jacket and pulled forth a mangled pair of blue latex gloves and pulled them on, swearing under his breath as he struggled to find the correct finger-holes whilst tucking his baton under one arm. He then quickly turned the man over onto his back to get a better look at him and see if there were any other signs of life and then immediately recoiled in abject horror, falling backwards onto his backside and gasping for breath, the baton under his arm falling free to land with a clanging sound against the bottom of the stairs.

The man Jeff had rolled over had no face.

Water, Water, Everywhere...

2010-11-03T21:49:00.013Z

The rain battered the roof of Jeff Taunten’s patrol car, propelled by a vicious gale in waves of movement that billowed in the light of the headlamps. The windscreen wipers cleared the glass intermittently and without any real effect, providing the only other noise that could be heard over the pounding rain. Jeff rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand, a hand covered in the smudged ink of a half-dozen tiny notes written in black biro. Yawning, Jeff wondered for the fifth time that night where the hell he put his pocket notebook last time he was on duty. No doubt another member of his squad thought it would be a good idea to shove it in an evidence bag and hang it from the fire escape in the back yard of the station.

Again.

Man, these weekday night shifts were a killer in the sleepy town of Antesborough... The digital clock in the car clicked onto 3.02am.

Suddenly the radio glowed briefly as someone attempted a quick transmission, then nothing. The brightness faded before surging again as the voice of the Police control room staff member comes over the radio with detached and nasal voice suitable only for most train stations. “Observations please...”, and then a pause.

“Bollocks...” Jeff said to no one in particular, “Spoke too fucking soon”.

“Observations for a red-coloured panel van, index unknown heading west along Fairview Road towards Lexbury Sands. Vehicle suspected to be involved in a burglary at Harbour Hill. Vehicle is two-up, no description of suspects... Two-six?”

Another frigging burglary. Jeff rubbed his eyes with the back of his ink-stained hand yet again and then turned the ignition key sending the crunching diesel engine of the patrol car into life and then slowly pulled out of the Fairview public car park, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t suddenly see a “red-coloured panel van” pass by the front of his bonnet. Like he did everytime he heard the phrase, Jeff ignored the ridiculous peculiarity that was the description of the colour of the vehicle.

“Two-six...? Calling two-six?” Jeff glared at the radio as if willing it into impertinent silence, then flicked the radio lever that the Police mechanics had so handily installed into the steering column next to the indicator lever. Jeff spoke in a mumbling voice into the void of the inside of the car, his voice picked up by the tiny receiver above his rear-view mirror. “Yeah, two-six I’m on it...” Huffing bad-temperedly, Jeff began to pull out onto Fairview Road heading towards the scene of the burglary, the rain lashing his windscreen like a sudden storm of hail. As he turned the creaking steering wheel of his old-before-its-time patrol car, he suddenly saw a pair of headlights and a flash of red heading towards him through the billowing rain.

“Bollocks...” Jeff said again to no one but himself. The panel van rushed past him at a hell of a lick, splashing filthy water onto the driver’s side window of Jeff's patrol car. Reacting sluggishly, Jeff wrenched the steering wheel hard to the right, attempting to turn around in the road, reaching for the button that would illuminate his flashing blue lights for only the third time in his 4-year career, and then pressed his foot hard onto the accelerator and lifted the clutch. The car suddenly stalled. Jeff sighed heavily, and then twitched the radio lever again. “Two-six, the vehicle has just passed me towards Lexbury Sands. My car has conked out. Again. Please add that to the message for the benefit of the control room Inspector. Again.”

“Noted two-six. Two-nine, can you make?”

“Yeah two-nine, we’re Lexbury towards last known location. Suggest two-six heads to scene?”

“Yeah, well you fucking would, wouldn’t you, Dave?” Jeff grumbled to himself before turning the ignition key again to try and restart the engine. No response. Another attempt. Another failure. Frowning, Jeff leant forward and gently bounced his forehead off the top of the steering wheel several times. He then twitched the radio lever with his head still on the top of the steering wheel. “Two-six to control...?”

“Two-six, you’re muffled. Go ahead.”

Scowling, Jeff lifted his head clear of the steering wheel. “Yeah two-six, my car is completely out of action. Request recovery.”

“Two-six, that received. Pass location please.” Jeff dutifully passed the location and then began adjusting his seat to lie back and wait for the recovery truck. “Two-six, that noted, please head to the scene on foot as we have no other free units...” Jeff looked at the radio as if it had just kicked him in the testicles with steel-toe-capped boots on. He then stared gloomily out of the drivers window into the inclement weather.

On foot. In this rain?

Jeff toyed with the idea of arguing the toss with the operator, then decided it just wasn’t worth it. The last thing he wanted was a call direct to his radio from Sergeant Canley demanding he attend the scene whilst the lazy bastard toasted his toes on the electric fire back in his office at the station. Shrugging on his fluorescent waterproof jacket with great difficulty whilst in the front seat, Jeff then grabbed his clipboard and flat-topped hat before heading out into the rain with his personal radio. As he walked down the hill in the pitch dark illuminated briefly by the flashing of the cars' hazard lights, he began to wish he had never even gone to work that night. He sighed heavily for the umpteenth time as his woollen trousers slowly sought to soak up as much of the rain as possible.

Little did he know that he would come to regret going to work that evening for a different reason entirely...

Dead and Gone

2010-10-19T19:44:00.005+01:00

Ok, this poem literally came to me and ironically it is more of a song than a poem and largely seems to fit the music to "Sweetest Lie" by the Goo Goo Dolls. Make of that what you will. Oh, and as a disclaimer: No one has died. Not sure where this one came from but it had to be written as it just came to me.

My hands slipped away from ‘round your neck and I realised what I’d done

It all went wrong so quick, it did, I thought we were havin’ fun

And I looked into your eyes and they stared straight back at me

Took me a while to realise but I’d finally set you free

You made me do it with every single swear word you ever threw

You picked me up and you put me down like every man you ever knew

So I don’t blame myself when I look back now and recall your cold blue skin

You should never have taken all my stuff and thrown it in the bin

But you were killin’ me inside

From myself I’d tried to hide

Yeah you were killin’ me inside

But it was one hell of a ride

You were the one thing that I wish right now I’d never found

The sweetest moment was the day they put you in the ground

But in a way I’m gonna miss you, you always were about

And I’ll miss the way I pissed you off n’ you felt the need to shout

But you were killin’ me inside

From myself I’d tried to hide

Yeah you were killin’ me inside

But it was one hell of a ride

So I look back now and smile to myself ‘cos I know I’ve no regrets

Ain’t gonna gamble no more with my life, ain’t gonna make no more bets

So rest my sweet, enjoy the peace as you slumber six feet under

And look back at how you treated me and to yourself you may just wonder

Why you were killin’ me inside

Why from myself I tried to hide

Yeah why you were killin’ me inside

And why you were finally denied

Dark Desire

2010-09-20T19:52:00.003+01:00

I wish you would open your eyes and tell me what you find
It ain't no secret that all along you've been quite blind
Seeing what you want to see, for me it's been a mission
To turn your head, to make you smile and uncloud your vision

What you've always wanted has been waiting for you right here
In the twilight and the gloom like the apparitions that you fear
Don't shy away from it, what could be the wildest ride
You must fight your instinct to keep from running and trying to hide

Deep inside, you know that it's always been you and me
Playing out like the bittersweet sound of a wicked symphony
Taking these unfettered steps in a dance down in the dark
You cling to me so tight and with your teeth you leave your mark

Yet all of this is in my mind, it's too hard to make you see
That in the dead of night your soul yearns to come to me
So I leave you now to sleep and dream your twisted life away
And I will live in the shadows of your heart, love, come what may

The God Complex

2010-09-16T19:52:00.002+01:00

Rising from the ashes of tomorrows dreams
I stand there unbroken and unbowed
Killing time ain’t as easy as it seems
For the righteous and the proud

Dedication ain’t my inspiration
I don’t care what you all do
I ain’t gonna run from your fascination
Your love for me must be true

Come out of your holes like a pack of rats
I will hunt you down one by one
Look into my eyes as you squirm on your backs
And know your time is almost done

You try to walk in my shoes but honey you just ain’t me
Don’t try and figure me out
You gotta go blind before you can truly see
You gotta be mute, babe, before you can shout

So as I rise to the heavens and beyond
Don’t spare a thought for anyone but yourself
You’re just an oversized fish in an oversized pond
You know it can’t be good for your health

The riddle of your life is the tangle of your dreams
No one can solve it but the broken man within
The play is unwritten yet you star in all the scenes
Your pretension is as obvious as the sum of all your sins

You look at me and your eyes show me derision
I look right back seeing no heart, but a hole
It’s too late for you; I see you’ve made your decision
It’s the end of your time, my friend; you have lost your soul

A Rant

2010-09-15T19:59:00.001+01:00

Sometimes you just feel like you wish you could summon a firestorm down on your neighbours. These are usually insufferable people that irritate you in ways you never knew existed until you moved in. I have 3 immediate neighbours in my building and all of them do my flaming nut in, quite frankly. The first neighbour is an old dear who means well but comes across as an interfering old bag, mainly because she IS an interfering old bag!

She attempted to force me to agree to having the entire outside of the building redecorated because “It’s in the lease”. I agree, it’s in the lease, but in this current financial climate, it is akin to filling an old oil drum with your money and then setting it on fire by lighting one of your own farts over it. How many people have a spare grand lying about to pay for it? Not I, that’s for sure, so I fought it hard and got the individual price down to about half that originally quoted by cutting out the unnecessary work. This old lady I have generally dealt with by humouring her but my own sense of humour is rapidly deserting me. Did you realise she called the cops at the weekend?

Here’s why:

I went to my beloved Cardiff this weekend for a housewarming. Before leaving, I ensured my cat would be well cared for by entreating another good friend of mine to do me a favour and check on the cat each day whilst I was gone for a period of three days (Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I left on Friday so the cat was fed and watered before I went, and I returned at 2.15am on Monday morning). Knowing what an annoying old cow she was, I left a note for the old lady telling her I would be away until Monday and that a friend would check on the cat Saturday and Sunday and MAY park in my parking space. I had to do this because otherwise the old cow would shout at my mate for parking in my space. Fact is, I left out enough food and water for my cat to survive for several days so it was more a welfare check by my mate than anything else.

ANYWAY. God, this is longer in the telling than it actually was at the time!

So Sunday afternoon I turn on my mobile whilst in Cardiff and I have a voicemail. “This is the Police enquiry centre, can you call as back on xxx”. Fearing terrible news, I immediately rang back and was informed that the ancient hag had phoned the Police because SHE hadn’t SEEN anyone go in my flat on Saturday and she was worried about my cat!! Needless to say, I was furious. I knew my friend would NOT have let me down and she obviously hadn’t. She could give me the exact time she went to my flat and I never doubted her for a second. Fact is, the old lady probably simply failed to notice her, an easy thing to do unless you sit by the window ALL DAY and night to see who is coming in or going out.

So when I returned home, I spoke to the woman and told her I was not in the slightest bit happy she called the Police on me because she was worried about my cat. She responded without a shred of remorse saying she was CERTAIN my friend hadn’t been in that day. How dare she?! Honestly I was, and am, still furious. Anytime she wants money for things that need doing about this place I am going to demand she gets 5 quotes for the work, like she SHOULD do and show me a copy of any bill once the work to be carried out has been agreed. No longer will I simply accept her word for it.

Then there’s the mental cat man at the end of the corridor. Not once in the two and a half years I have been here have I seen the inside of his flat. He is very careful not to open his flat door in anyone’s presence. From within the flat emanates the most god-awful smell that comes out onto the landing. It drives me insane. The stink is nasty and HE is slightly creepy. He works at a psychiatric hospital and I can’t help but think he brings his work home with him. He reckons the smell is because he had an incontinent cat which has since (thankfully, never thought I’d say that!) died and the smell has indeed begun to lessen, but he still stinks. And not only that, but he kowtows to the old lady’s will as he has absolutely no nuts of his own.

Which leaves the swines upstairs. The flat is rented out by the owner, a woman I actually get on well with and who has always been reasonable to me and taken my complaints seriously. Firstly there were two Polish couples up there. Seemed nice enough but had a predisposition towards getting smashed off their faces, thundering flat-footedly around their apartment and up and down the communal stairs whilst whooping and hollering like they’re celebrating their firstborn child. After multiple issues with them, they were turfed out. In moved a bloke who also seemed like a nice guy, if you discount the fact he smoked weed every night and played music loudly after 11pm, often well into the night and had the loudest party ever up there when he filled the flat with 50 people and a full-on DJ to play some tracks. I do not jest. He left of his own accord because of the smell from Mental Cat Man. I shit you not. After he moved out, two young lads moved in and they are the current occupants. Respectful as you like to speak to, they also appear to like smoking weed, coming home at all hours and making a racket whilst walking through the communal area, failing to bin things correctly, spitting out of windows and even smashing in the front door when they forgot their house key.

I despair, I truly do. I sound like a miserable old git and I know that is probably justified, but the combination of all these bloody awful people is really starting to get on my wick. I have this overwhelming desire to up sticks and move but it comes down to a question of need or want. I don’t need to move, I simply want to. Wanting to will incur expense that I cannot afford at the moment. I can’t even rent this place out because it is part-owned by the government (Curse them!).

So this probably the most boring blog post I’ve made but I needed to get this stuff off my chest and it has therefore served that purpose well. I assure you I will post something infinitely more positive next time!!

A Dose Of Reality

2010-08-15T20:27:00.004+01:00

Sometimes life has a way of kicking you pretty hard in the testicles. It feels like you move from one ricockulous situation to the next and this week has been no different. I alluded to an opportunity presenting itself during an earlier blogpost and suffice to say, that opportunity slipped me by. No wait, not slipped me by, but actually spared me the horror of running with it. This has been a week of enlightenment, a week where people's true colours have begun to shine through and some of those colours have been ghastly whilst others have been rather wonderful.

Changes are afoot. I am beginning to think outside this little box I have been living in and wondering at the opportunities to be had elsewhere. I have had a gutful of the human capacity for utter selfishness and am eager to be proved wrong. So the net is being cast wide and now I am interested in seeing just what I manage to catch.

I want to lay back and look up at the night sky and see the stars, unmarred by light pollution, totally at peace with myself and breathing the cool night air as the wind ruffles my hair. Life doesn't get better than that and I realise that by relying upon the milk of human kindness for too long, I have been blind to just how bitter it can taste when you start scraping the bottom of the barrel.

So it's back to basics for me, back to finding out what actually gets my buttons pushed in all the right places and I think it's going to be quite a ride. Far from allowing things to bring me down, I will continue to try and bolster my resolve and enjoy a little more of my life.

Thanks to those of you who've stuck by me recently. And shame on you to those who never gave a damn. I can see your true colours.

Not Old, Just Older

2010-08-08T20:01:00.007+01:00

Ok so lightening up is not always my strong point. I use this blog as a place to sound off what I'm thinking, lay down the cracked paving slabs of my attempts at poetry and short stories and to pretty much keep myself sane when I'm living in a flat by myself.

I want to sell this place. I've come to that conclusion. If I could, I'd sell this place and buy a nice little cottage by the sea, quit my job and live happily ever after with my perfect woman. But as nice as it all sounds and as fulfilling as I might perceive it to be, there's a whole heap of reality in the way before that could ever happen.

And reality tends to bite. Hard.

So I have made it my objective to find something rather amusing every day to keep me smiling. I mean, I smile quite a lot, even if my smile is not particularly great (Hey, I'm British, very few of us have good smiles...) and I find humour in many, many situations. Comes with the territory I guess. You turn tragedy into humour as it helps you deal with the crapola that life likes to throw at you when you're in my line of work.

Sharing such comedic gold can be tricky though, because obviously I don't want to compromise myself but I do have a host of short scenarios and this one in particular, that respects everyone involved and doesn't compromise anything. I hope...

Picture the scene. A young man stands with a slight predisposition towards chubbiness, two days beard growth, short, dark spiky hair with the flecks of grey appearing at the temples; stands with one hand in his pocket and another clutching an A4 notebook with a number on the front. He's wearing non-descript grey trousers that were ironed 3 days before and have been worn every day since so that the crease has now largely fallen out. He wears a lilac shirt with a matching (surprisingly) tie that is creased at the area where his stomach protrudes slightly over the cheap belt of his trousers. On his right wrist he wears a silver coloured watch with a blue face that clearly does NOT match his shirt. A pair of cheap black shoes completes the look. Clearly a gorgeous man. He is stood in a hospital corridor by a lift, near to a toilet, rocking on his heels slightly.

This man is me.

An elderly gentleman can be seen in the near distance, some fifteen feet from me. He is huddled over a walking frame and is wheezing slightly. He is wearing a hospital gown that is done up tightly in an attempt to hide his modesty. He looks slightly bemused. He glances around and he sees me. I see him. Our eyes meet and his face crinkles into something resembling a smile as his tongue protrudes ever so slightly. He begins to shuffle towards me.

At a snails pace.

He grunts with the effort.

Five minutes and fifteen feet later, he arrives in front of me, smacks his lips, wheezing heavily.

"Are... Are you a doctor?"

I blink. Once. Actually, twice.

"What seems to be the problem, sir?"

For the more vigilant among you, no I did not answer his question. Why? Fuck knows. Seriously.

"I'm... a bit lost, doctor... Can you tell me... which floor Ward B3... is on?"

Using my super-duper powers of observation, I spy a lift some twenty feet away and next to the lift entrance was a sign indicating the different floors. I nod knowingly to the elderly gentleman who at point-blank range has lost all of the charm that old people have and is now merely a person who smells slightly of rancid old piss and damp farts. Unexpectedly, I wrinkle my nose in disgust and its probably pretty obvious. Bless him, he keeps smiling as I reply with distaste in my voice.

"3rd floor, sir, if you care to take the lift just over there...?"

He reacts as if she should clearly have known the answer to his own question. Which if he had just come from there, then he clearly should've.

"Thank you so much! I must have taken the lift down here but I don't really remember."

He starts to shuffle off. He hits the five feet mark after a few minutes, the waft of old urine left in his wake. At this point, my colleague returns from the toilet having had his emergency dump and I ask him where we're headed.

"Ward C4 mate, we'll have to take the lift."

I nod, then narrow my eyes. The old man is nearing 10 feet from me. The lift is five feet further than that. I hurry my colleague and we walk past Old Man River and hit the button for the lift. Lucky us, it's already on our floor. We step in and turn, as you do, to face the doors.

Three feet to go and he looks at me with a spark of recognition.

Knowing I was sparing us a fate worse than death: of having to share a lift with a man stinking of urine, I rapidly press the button for the fourth floor. As anyone would.

The doors don't close.

The lift doesn't move.

Old Man River takes another shuffling step forward, mere inches now from the doors as my eyes widen and everything shifts into slow motion.

He reaches one fragile hand forward as if by reaching over the lift threshold with a hand, he would stop the doors from closing.

The doors slam shut with a resounding clang as the old man seems to smirk at me as he's left on the outside, nothing but the faint reek of acidic piss suggesting that he was ever near us. Then something else assails my nostrils.

In the corner of the lift is a human turd. Steaming.

And in my minds eye I see the smelly little old man back downstairs in the lobby laughing to himself, knowing that he got me good.

Fair play.

The Calling

2010-08-07T19:53:00.003+01:00

We go through life judging others by what we've learned, what we've interpreted through our short life spans on this Earth. Every situation is shaded by the colour of your own life and it can be incredibly hard to be able to look at things from any other perspective. Not only hard, but frustrating too. You will bend peoples noses out of joint, make rash decisions and hasty judgments and then wonder why you don't seem to be getting very far.

Lifting the veil is one of the hardest things that any one of us can do for ourselves. What may seem right to you, can be seen as wrong by someone else and vice versa. How, then, can we get past this problem and be more accepting of our situations? By taking a step back. Sounds so easy, yet the reality is ricockulously hard to achieve.

But ultimately worthwhile.

Take a step back and don't overanalyse. One of my biggest problems in the past is that I overanalyse situations and find myself worrying about things I have either no right to worry about or there is no POINT worrying about because I can do nothing to change the situation.

And that is probably the toughest thing for people to get their head round. But flippancy is not the alternative. People worry because they care. They either care about someone else or they care about how things will affect them personally. And that can't be wrong, unless all you worry about is yourself. That is where worrying becomes selfishness and it can be hard to identify that.

Compromise is a word often used and just as often neglected. Why should I change who I am? I like how I am, why should I? Compromise is not the power of change, its the understanding and acceptance of something that you are not used to accepting. Look, none of us are perfect. None of us run our lives like saints and we all make mistakes. It's part of what's called the human condition. It's not something to be ashamed of but it's something we should be aware of. We like things as they are. Some people thrive on change, others prefer things to remain the same and there is NOTHING wrong with that! Except when a situation arises that means you have to look at what you do, or who you are and then decide if you want to let that situation affect your life and to what amount, on what level?

And that is where we should consider compromise. You won't want to, it might not feel right to, but sometimes we HAVE to unless we want to squander our opportunities. I've recently been blessed with an opportunity and I recognise that my life will change as a result, come what may. I have to accept that and part of accepting that is being able to compromise, something I'm definitely not used to! Any one of the ladies I've dated over the past few years will tell you that much!

But lacking the will to compromise is borne out of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of accepting a situation that potentially could make big changes to how you live your life. And insecurities throw up the walls to try and prevent that and it is so easy to hide behind them, lobbing the occasional grenade over into "enemy" territory to see if you will deter your opponents.

But I don't want to sit behind the walls. I want to scale them all and see what the future holds. It's not something that can happen overnight but if you can recognise them, then you can climb them. The comfort zone that we live in can sometimes blind us and prevent us from taking hold of life with a firm grip and taking a risk on something or someone.

So take heart, give it a go. Take that risk and don't regret it.

Raise Your Hand

2010-08-01T14:20:00.006+01:00

You gotta lift yourself a little bit
You gotta raise your hand and say “That’s it!”
Don’t ever sit back baby and take that shit
You gotta lift yourself a little bit

Let myself down before
Fought a non-existant war
Won’t go back there again
Won't drown in my rain

I’m worth more than nothing
Gotta see what life brings
I gotta tell myself
Won’t go back on that shelf

‘Cos you gotta lift yourself a little bit
You gotta raise your hand and say “That’s it!”
Don’t ever sit back baby and take that shit
You gotta lift yourself a little bit

But I gotta, trust you see
It’s been hard for me
Been stamped on so hard
Couldn’t see a way forward

‘Cos she’s worth it I know
I gotta let it just flow
Instead of suspicious minds
We gotta see what we find

‘Cos you gotta lift yourself a little bit
You gotta raise your hand and say “That’s it!”
Don’t ever sit back baby and take that shit
You gotta lift yourself a little bit

Don’t give up nor let it go
Because in time you’ll just know
That the effort was worth it
Love’s got you in its grip

And the time is just right
And you’ve won that last fight
There’s no such thing as never
Only a time called forever

‘Cos you gotta lift yourself a little bit
You gotta raise your hand and say “That’s it!”
Don’t ever sit back baby and take that shit
You gotta lift yourself a little bit

Excuse me!

2010-06-08T20:36:00.001+01:00

I present below another real-life situation that I recently experienced. Make of it what you will.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Excuse me... Hello there, excuse me...?”

I turn slowly, never sure if the person whose attention they’re trying to grab is mine in these situations.

“Have you got a hoover...?”

Ah. Right. A salesperson. Brilliant. And lying in wait at my front door no less.

“Yes, I have thank you and it works fantastically well...”

He tries to speak but I raise my palm and stop him.

“It’s a Vax and it is a cylinder hoover that’s extremely powerful and sucks up all the cat hairs on my carpet. It has attachments to reach the hard bits in the corners of the ceiling...”

He tries to stop me. Undeterred, I continue.

“...And it has a turbo-head that is for hard to reach bits of carpet. I’ve had it less than a year, I only paid seventy quid for it in the sale and it seems to suit my needs...”

Again he tries to butt in. How rude!

“...Because you see I only have two rooms that need hovering. A front room and a bedroom. The kitchen and shower room have lino down...”

Finally he actually butts in, almost aggressively.

“Look mate, I don’t care. I’ve just moved in next door and I’d like to bloody-well borrow it!”

Embarrassed, I take a step back. What an idiot I have just made of myself. There’s only one solution to a problem like this one.

“No.”

And with that I went inside.

To Be Normal

2010-05-08T21:51:00.005+01:00

I see your happy exterior
I see you broken within
Maybe its because you think you're inferior
Maybe its those who greet you with nothing but a grin

Your home is the road least travelled by normal men
The bumps and the holes like the dents in your sanity
Always trying to find your way to that destination again
Your judgment clouded by bitterness and prophanity

I see you seeking approval
I see you wanting to shock
Maybe its that you fear fames' removal
Maybe its because you need an emotional rock

Yours is a life without a semblance of normality
Unable to go out for a pint with a friend
They don't understand this is your reality
They fawn and they gush, all their "love" they will send

I see you weakened by age and disappointment
I see you wanting to just back off and rest
Maybe its time to cure this ailment
Maybe its time to do what you think is best

Hang Cool, Teddy Bears!!

2010-04-20T17:57:00.002+01:00

The Hole

2010-04-14T23:04:00.003+01:00

The following is a short, introductory story that I've been thinking about. Let me know your opinions.

Lucie was 11 years old when they took her. Her mother and father had been arguing again in the kitchen. It seemed like all they did was argue these days. Her mother wanted to have the freedom to go out when she chose to, whereas her father wanted things to remain the way they were. Lucie knew it was only a matter of time before they came to blows again. She dug her head under the pillow, pulling it tight about her ears.

The arguments began the day that she first noticed the hole. It wasn’t large then, nothing more than a fingers width really. It looked like the kind of hole a mouse would make, all gnawed at the edges. Lucie would idly pick at it, making it bigger. It was just in the ceiling in the corner of her room, above the bed. She had to climb onto the top bunk to pick at it and she never could work out why she felt the need to pick at it. But pick she did and the more she picked, the more her parents would argue.

Eventually she could feel the cold air of the attic on her face as she picked at the hole, some hands-width wide after she’d been picking at it for a couple of weeks. There was something about the hole she didn’t like. She could hear whispering but could never make out the words. The cold air on her face seemed to carry these mutterings and for a time, they scared her and she didn’t pick at the hole.

Her parents didn’t notice the hole, even when they came into her room. The empty top bunk where her brother should’ve been, never got looked at by either of them. Her brother had gone missing the year before, his twisted body found two weeks later by the side of the road. Lucie didn’t know that his eyes had been burned out and black streaks like mascara we running down both his cheeks. His face had been twisted into a visage of terror. He was covered in dirt and thorns as if he had been dragged through a hedge. The crime remained unsolved.

Lucie was home-schooled, and during her regular breaks from her work, her mother would go off to speak to someone on the telephone, another man. Lucie would take the opportunity to retreat to her room and pick at the hole. Her mother would be 30 minutes on the telephone and Lucie would pick for the whole 30 minutes, concentrating on the black space beyond.

And so on this day, burying her face under the pillow to deafen herself to the noise of her parents arguing, Lucie knew that there was only one thing that could help her zone out from the sound of the glass smashing downstairs and the shouting of her parents. Clambering out of bed, she began to climb the ladder on her bed up onto the top bunk. As she did so, the noise from downstairs got increasingly loud; her mother’s shrill voice screeching abuse at her father, whose deep rumble intensified with a torrent of horrid, black words that Lucie had never heard before.

Lucie moved closer to the hole, her fingers flexing as if preparing themselves for the task to come. Her mind became focused on that black, black hole as her finger sought the edges and began picking at the wood and paint, the shavings falling onto her brothers’ bed. As she began to pick, the noises downstairs abruptly change from shouting to the sounds of objects slamming into flesh with horrendous force. Little Lucie can’t hear it. She breathes evenly as she focuses on the hole, her fingers digging and scratching. Her mothers’ voice becomes a piercing shriek that is abruptly cut off. The sound of feet stamping their way upstairs, dragging something with them becomes evident but Lucie continues to pick at the hole. The stamping feet stop outside of Lucie’s door and the picking of the hole becomes even more feverish, Lucie’s fingers moving at an almost preternatural speed.

The door opens and shadowed in the doorway is Lucie’s father, chest heaving as he has in his right hand a knife and in his left he has the hair of Lucie’s mother, still attached to her head which is still attached to the bloodstained body he has dragged upstairs with him. A feverish glint is in his eyes as he advances towards his daughter, spying her on the top bunk. He mutters something as he begins to climb the small ladder, the head of Lucie’s mother smacking to the floorboards wetly as he drops it in order to facilitate the climb.

Lucie feels a cold blast of air in her face and her hair wafts in the breeze. She can see something in the hole now and she squints at it, her fingers no longer working at the edges of the hole. She suddenly becomes aware of her father’s face as it appears over the edge of the bed, teeth clenched and sweaty. He glares at his daughter who looks at him calmly.

“Hello daddy”

Her father pauses for just a second. Just long enough to bear witness to his daughter suddenly being grabbed by the face by a scaled, taloned hand from the hole in the ceiling and tugged roughly through it in the blink of an eye. He shrieks in terror and falls back off the ladder, impaling himself in the belly with the knife he still clutched in a death-grip in his right hand.

Lucie’s father bled out. Lucie’s parents bodies were found 3 days later after Police were called by concerned relatives unable to reach the family.

Lucie was never seen again.

Until now...

(c) James Batty 2010

D

2010-04-11T19:56:00.001+01:00

I look into your eyes and wish I was there
To drink you in, run my fingers through your hair
We’re miles apart in body, not mind
I hope that one day, my heart you’ll find

Kicking back, hanging cool like a teddy bear
Looking at you with your smile so fair
Down on the sand where the beach meets the sea
Time for reflection, time to just be

But strangers we are and strangers we’ll stay
Unless we decide to go out of our way
And bite the bullet and cross that distance
To see it as a reward for our persistence

The sands of time will run and run
It seems like life has only just begun
Time to forget all the strife and the pain
Just lie back and know if it rains, it rains

What Lies Beneath

2010-04-07T18:58:00.006+01:00

Rage and hate, power and fury
Struggling, duelling, fighting with my mind
I am the accused and they are the jury
Their compassion and belief too hard to find

Struggling on, battling their conviction
The fire in my belly refusing to be smothered
This is real life not a work of fiction
My real purpose yet to be discovered

Needling and snarling their jibes bounce off me
Cast aside like the conscience they lack
I fight on defiant, determined they will see
This train ain’t off the rails, it’s just on another track

You don’t get me, I doubt you ever will
You’re not here when the doubt creeps in
You gorge on your own life, really eat your fill
I’ll be clinging to your soul like the weight of your sin

Prize Fight Lover

2010-03-31T18:36:00.012+01:00

It's not everyday that you talk about the meaning of life with someone. I find it amusing to do it because I think we all realise that it is perhaps the most pointless question we could ask. I have no doubt that the answer is probably something really disappointing. Besides, most people (Over the age of 25!) know the answer is 42.

What got us talking about it really was the intriguing question of faith. Where do we go when we die, if anywhere? My mate thinks that nothing happens and we simply die. I believe otherwise, but it is interesting to note that of all species of animal on the planet, humans are the only ones who have developed this need to believe that there is more to life than this, more to life than simply working your damn arse off all your life, only to spend a few years in the relative comfort of retirement followed by being pressured into a care home by your greedy kids where you're probably going to be beaten by care staff who'll wipe your ass so hard for you that you'll bleed.

Ok, maybe that's a little extreme, but it does raise the interesting point that why on earth does the human race seem to accept that we have to flog ourselves for our entire adult life with the view of making as much money as possible so that we can live with a little luxury or pass on our wealth to our children? Try not think too hard about it, because if you do then you're liable to get a little worked up about it.

Anyway! I just needed to kinda get that out there. Some of you may have noticed that my blog has changed somewhat and now has a new look to it. I doubt it will be permanent as things stand, but it'll do for now. I'm trying out a few new things with it, seeing what I like and what I don't like so expect a few more tweaks over the coming weeks.

Some of you may know that one of my many interests (Besides writing short stories, poetry and listening to music) is professional wrestling. I just spent the weekend in Cardiff seeing my best mate and watched Wrestlemania 26. Yes, they really have been doing that show for 26 years! Now I won't go into too much detail about the event because I recognise that most of you hate wrestling, think it's a joke or now think that I am a joke!

Prior to the show, there was the annual Hall of Fame induction and one of the things that was said on that show really sat well with me and I just want to recount it here: "Don't ever go after anything that you're not passionate about. You cannot make it... without being passionate about what you're doing. Be passionate, perservere, work hard and live your life with integrity. It's not always the greatest talented person that gets the job, it's the guy that's the most dependable and has the biggest heart."

I think that we all have a measure of talent, whether it be something tangible or something intangible. there is something we can do that very few others can match, and that is something to be passionate about. But there is nothing wrong in being passionate about those things that we may not be so good at either. So long as we perservere, work hard and continue being passionate, I have a firm belief that we can all acheive our goals in the end, whether there is any real meaning in those goals or not. I guess to me, the meaning of life is different for each and every one of us. We all hope to achieve something out of life, whether it be wealth, love, happiness or world peace! The fact that differentiates us from animals, in my mind, is that we are all able to think beyond our simple needs to survive and therefore we can strive for something else, whatever that might be.

And for now I will leave you with an uploaded tune from my favourite singer, the incomparable Meat Loaf. His new single, Los Angeloser will be out on 2nd April. I'd urge you all to buy it but I know that'll fall on deaf ears! This uploaded song is called "Prize Fight Lover", released free of charge just a week or so ago. Make of it what you will. The quality is a little diminished from the original but you can download your own copy from http://www.hangcoolteddybear.com/

Someday, somewhere... and all that guff

2010-03-20T22:24:00.003Z

Well it has been about two months since my last entry which is a fairly poor showing for me. A lot has happened in a relatively short space of time I guess. A couple of dates, a wedding, a nephew's birthday, a 50th birthday party and more than a little socialising. Oh, and an exam. But we don't want to talk about THAT right now!

I went to one of my best friends weddings yesterday and I find it strange how weddings are both a cause for celebration and also a moment to reflect. Seeing two people so incredibly into one another that they would publicly vow to stay together forever is incredibly moving and also somewhat saddening for me. I guess it would be fair to say that I envy them that connection, the kind of connection I have never had with someone. I know people always go on about the "It'll happen, there's someone for everyone" route but I don't quite buy into that. There could well be someone out there and I'm sure there are people I could connect with on that level somewhere but meeting them is usually down to chance, plus there is all the pre-dating stuff to get through.

I have struggled to connect with women on a more than superficial level because I just don't "get it" sometimes. One or two of them I thought I had connected with, only to find that they didn't see it the same way and that is incredibly frustrating. I don't put it down to anything in particular. I'm not going to blame my looks, my weight, my personality or anything else. It just didn't happen for me. I think that weddings remind me of that fact so whilst I am obviously happy for whomever is getting married, I do find myself affected by a slight melancholy feeling that stubbornly refuses to go away. I guess that'll fade in time.

Last weekend I went to a 50th birthday party. I know, I know! Doesn't sound fun on paper and sounded less appealing to me because it was a hawaiian themed party but you know what? When I got there, I had perhaps the best night out in ages. Was nice to spend some time with a couple of my best friends and their little lad, my Godson. I don't see them half as often as I'd like to but then I know how the world works and I rarely make time for people myself except when pushed or cajoled into it. I think I actually won the limbo competition that night (That's not saying much) but I had fun dancing and just relaxing, something that I'm not that prone to allowing myself to do these days.

Back in January I went on a date with an American chick. This was one of those people with whom I thought I could make a connection and indeed, after the date I had no reason to suspect the opposite. We got on well, chatted, walked together with arms round one another and she sprung a kiss on me at the end and said she wanted to meet up again, something that I readily agreed to. The following week she told me she wasn't interested via text message. Ouch. That's cold. Particularly when you consider that we had discussed on the date our mutual loathing for people who ditch one another via text message, something we had both experienced before! So that doesn't go down as a confidence booster!

But we all struggle on. I'm not bitter. A touch disheartened as any human being would be but I'm a long way from giving up.

I bid you all adieu.

Don't Blow It

2010-01-27T20:53:00.002Z

Maybe its me, or you just don't know what to say
It feels like I'm chasing the wind day after day
On the end of the line though I'm feeling cut off
Its like I'm saying too much or not saying enough

Its never easy trying to live the dream
Never doing it right or making a scene
Til people think you're crazy or at least not all there
While you sit at home and pull out your hair

But lifes little dramas won't plague you forever
It'll work out sometime though it may seem like never
So you keep on striving to change your situation
And feel that feeling of extreme elation

But it doesn't happen to everyone, just remember that
Don't count all your chickens before they have hatched
Just be yourself and if they like you they'll show it
But don't play little games or it's likely you'll blow it

The Weakening of Human Nature

2010-01-25T22:43:00.002Z

When I was a young lad in my late teens, relationships were the kind of things that came and went. 6 weeks seemed a long time back then and you considered yourself lucky if you could maintain interest in someone that long without sliding to a defeat against your teen angst that always seemed ready and willing to throw doubt, worry and heartbreak your way. But as I got older, I found that these things rapidly die away and become history.

The friendships and relationships I formed as I got older were stronger than simple flings (For the most part but I'm only human!) and seemed to be sturdier and more reliable. But this isn't always the case. I think it really sucks when a friend turns round to you in your late twenties and goes out of their way to avoid seeing you but won't actually come out and say "I don't want to be your friend anymore". This isn't pre-school, this isn't teen angst. These are grown-ups who should have the moral fortitude to be able to say to someone flat out that actually, you just don't fancy seeing them as mates anymore or whatever.

Hell, my mum recently told someone she'd known for probably 15 years that she no longer wanted to meet with her down the pub on a friday, something she did EVERY week near enough, because she didn't enjoy the night out anymore. She basically couldn't stand the woman any longer and had had enough. But at least she told her, that's my point.

Friendships are built on trust and are things that every one of us will come to treasure at some point in our lives, be it at the time or after the friendship is over. It can be hard not to look back sometimes and wonder where things went wrong and think how you can hope to recapture those memories.

And the same goes for relationships. A good friend of mine, who shall remain nameless has recently been left all on his todd after the girl he was seeing for only a few months said that meeting with him once a week on a planned date was "too intense" for her to manage. Intense? Once a week? Am I the only one who thinks that's strange? I mean, to each their own but surely you wouldn't go dating someone unless you actually found the prospect of a burgeoning relationship with them to be an appealing thought, right? And once a week is a comfortable, manageable number. If someone wants to see you even less than that then I'm sorry, but you should start looking elsewhere. I know I would.

And it's this that can be the crux of the problem. Relationships built on lies or uncertainty have no foundation to withstand any amount of emotional trauma. If one side or other suddenly becomes a little needy for any reason be it emotional, physical or whatever, the whole thing collapses and afterwards one party or the other is going to be more than a little upset depending on how long it took for the collapse to occur.

I beg you, any of you who read this: Be straight with people from the get-go. If you want some fun and a bit of slap-and-tickle then say so. If you want to look for something more meaningful then give it a damn chance and try to knock down the barriers you've created. Let someone in for a change. I've been guilty of this myself and it is really, REALLY hard to admit that sometimes. You never really know but if you let the right one in, you could have something pretty special. Forget what they say about first impressions because whilst they count for a lot, the proof is in the way those people follow up their previous effort. They can be down but not out. Communication is key here. It has to be two ways.

And that goes for friendships too. Don't throw them away on a whim, try and resolve your issues otherwise you could easily find yourself being the person sat in with the bottle of wine by your lonesome on a friday night wondering just what the hell happened to all your friends. If you don't feel there is one person you could ring to find out what they're up to and whether they'd like to spend time with you, then you should be looking to do something about it. Seriously.

And to my friend I mentioned, whom I know reads this blog: Dude, I'm as guilty as the next person sometimes of letting my heart go too fast. Now is the time for you to remember who your friends are and let them be your support. I know I'm not alone in saying we're all here for ya with a shit DVD to watch and a bunch of beers to sink (Except me, obviously as I've gone tee-total starting yesterday!!)

Peace.

Truth or Consequences

2010-01-17T20:00:00.002Z

What follows is a true story of what happened to me just a few days ago. I'm sure I'm not the only person to have experienced something similar, I shouldn't wonder. See if it rings true.

-----------------------------

"Hello you! Bloody hell, how long's it been? Years and years!"

These are the words that every person dreads to hear, particularly when you look at the person saying them and haven't the foggiest idea who on earth they are. The person in question was a woman, probably in her mid thirties with curly black hair with far too much mousse in it, bad skin and a horrible dress sense. I respond:

"Sorry, have we...?"

"My God, how are you? This is unreal!"

"I don't think that I..."

And now her nodding and smiling puts me off and suddenly I feel uncertain. I know I've never met her before yet she seems so sure about it. My sentence simply trails off into incoherent mumbling as I squint my eyes and frown slightly as if wondering if I could recognise her better that way. No, I don't know why I do that either.

"Oh it's not easy is it? How was the operation in the end?"

Now I'm thinking, "What operation?!" and my mind is screaming at me to put this lady right and tell her I have no idea who she is. My mind tells me that very very clearly indeed. And my mouth opens and I say:

"It went great thanks, all sorted now..."

The mental version of me slaps it's own forehead. What the hell kind of hole am I digging for myself?

"Really? Brilliant news. It's amazing really. They sounded so sure that you... Well you know!"

"Ha ha... Yes..."

My mind is reeling here trying to remember what I've said so I don't trip myself up some more. The worst thing is I feel like I'm the weirdo! And I'm also thinking that person she wants me to be is probably a guy who dies needing an operation however many years ago. Now I also feel guilty.

"Still, even if you can't... You know... Glad to see you're doing well. How on earth did we lose contact?"

"Well, you know I've moved and, well, you're..."

"Still there, yes! I hadn't realised you'd moved but then I guess you must of otherwise we'd still see each other. How odd! Where are you living now?"

Ugh, why does she insist on continuing the conversation. Must seek a way to end this now!

"West... Um... West..."

"The West cliff? Wow, how did you afford that?"

"I... um... I got a job in... um..."

"Because you had a degree didn't you? You went to, er...? Where was it?"

I don't and have never had a degree. Despite that, I come up with the first one that comes to mind...

"Er... Loughborough...?"

I made it sound like a question. Pants.

"Was it? I thought it was Edinburgh? Edinburgh? Loughborough? Well they sound similar, maybe I remember that wrong, ha ha ha! Still, could've sworn..."

"- Definitely Loughborough..."

Oh great, and now I'm definite about it. I have no idea what the hell I'm saying now. It's all gone to pot.

"Well we must catch up sometime. What's your number?"

"I, um, don't have..."

"Mobile, then?"

"No, I..."

"Email? Facebook? You must be online...?"

"I really don't..."

And then my mobile rings. Ah shit, the mobile I just said I don't have...

"That's my... Better get this..."

Saved! Saved by the phone call! On the phone I just said I don't have but still, it's a save nonetheless! Saved by telesales-people. I knew they had a use somewhere! And finally, here's my stop...

"Sorry got to go, catch you soon...um..."

Catch you soon? What in the...?! Why the hell am I saying that?

"Hope to see you soon, Max. Good to of bumped into you again."

A weak smile as I get off the bus. A short walk home later and I can still hardly believe I just had this conversation with a complete stranger. Painful, just painful. And now I must avoid all buses to Boscombe, though knowing my luck I'd see her waving at me from on board as I walk to work...

Bring back 1999?

2010-01-06T17:44:00.000Z

And so we have reached the year 2010. I recall being a mere 18 years of age when the millenium eve was upon us and spent my time at the house party trying to catch the eye of a girl who was every inch the drama queen and yet back then, those kinds of things were taken as read as coming with the territory of trying to land yourself a girlfriend.

So now, over a decade later and about 7 stone heavier (And a foot taller) I look back over the last 10 years and can think of an awful lot of good things that have happened, as well as plenty of the bad stuff. But I'm no different to anyone else there, we've all had stuff good and bad happen to us, its just that some seem to think they've had more bad than good happen to them.

My elder brother turned 30 this week and we surprised him with the family and some family friends turning up at the restaurant he thought he was going to with his clever, clever wife who arranged the whole thing. It went off completely without a hitch and it was a nice moment to sit there as a family and think back on things and really just how good we had it growing up, even if we didn't necessarily think so at the time.

But time mellows the soul, if you allow it. You can grow up resenting every little slight you've ever had against your person, or you can look back on all that guff and just laugh at it. I prefer to do the latter because laughing is what I'm good at. All in all, the last few weeks have been a cracking good laugh and both Christmas and New Years were relaxed and warm, for lack of a better term.

And yet I DO have regrets. I'm particularly rubbish at keeping in contact with people, people I consider to be close personal friends even. I don't know why that is, I guess I just fall into a routine and then stick with it even though there doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day to do what I need to do.

But I am looking forward to the year ahead. Things seem to be going from strength to strength at work and I'm optimistic that I'll achieve some of my goals this year. This is really only a short blog entry as I can't think of anything creative to write at the moment. I hope to have a short story up soon so watch this space. Happy New Year to you all.

Escapism

2009-11-29T21:16:00.003Z

Sometimes you need a little dose of reality. This past month has been pretty busy and I've found that creatively I've been in a fairly empty place. I can't seem to summon up the willpower so resort to reading books written by others, something that I generally perceive to be the easy way out. It spirits you away to another little world of someone elses imagining and allows a little down time. Now that's nice but there's something a little frustrating about simply accepting that alternate reality because the fact is that you're limited in your imaginings to the extent of the thought behind the concept of the book itself, ergo you are confined to the thoughts and parameters as set out by the author themselves.

And that is therefore not true escapism. You're simply transferring yourself into someone elses imagination I guess some would call that escapism and it would be tough to argue that it wasn't, but for me escapism is allowing your own imagination to build that picture, paint in all the little nuances and boundaries and being able to explore the world of your own creation.

And I've been drawing a blank on that one. I put it down to a fair bit of overtime at work coupled with the somewhat mind-numbing feeling I get when I arrive home and just want to collapse in front of the TV.

But I suppose there has been one recent revelation at least: Someone helpfully pointed out that I am happy with my private life as things stand, having got the arrangement of being able to see people as and when and get that feeling of being wanted with none of the problems associated with having to share my life with someone.

And I guess they're right. I do like coming home and knowing that it's my own space that I don't have to share with anyone, I don't have to worry about saying the wrong thing, wearing the wrong thing, eating the wrong thing or sorting out some kind of arrangement over what we watch on TV. And for that reason, I guess I understand now why I like the arrangement associated with dating someone. You get to go out or meet up for dates and yet you don't have to worry about whether you can let a guff out at home.

But then I do have to consider why, if I'm so happy, do I still have that need for escapism on at least a mental level?

Answers on a postcard. Oh, and yes I am available for dates...

And the beat goes on

2009-10-15T14:14:00.003+01:00

Woah! It's been a while since I updated this blog. Things've been fairly hectic I guess what with work but I've been spending a lot of time with friends of an evening. Fact is, I just haven't been too bothered about keeping this up to date.

The new position at work has been interesting, for sure. Its kind of given me my reason for being in my line of work back again because I have to say that before that I had gotten a trifle jaded and cynical about things and was really questioning whether it was something I wanted to do. I see the benefit of working in my current area but do wonder whether I will be able to fully qualify in that area if current trends continue. Ok, so that was entirely unhelpful for those who might read this and have no idea what I do but I'm not about to talk it on a public site so gimme a ring, strangers!

I've taken up jogging again despite advice to the contrary. I remember explaining to someone that I now walk to work and really should consider jogging home from work at the end of the day. He very helpfully responded that I should drop some weight before doing so because otherwise I could possibly cause myself knee damage... Which was nice... Because THAT didn't make me feel at all self conscious about my weight... But anyway, that kinda irked me enough to make me actually get out and do it and I have a jogging partner who needed to get out and do some as well so we're both (hopefully) going to get some benefit out of it.

The flat is going nicely as well. You can tell you're getting old in the head when you're chuffed as nuts that you've got a new hoover that makes your carpet look brand new again. Really, is this the extent to which my life has fallen? Sadly, it would appear so! Still, the place is looking quite nice and I've made a concerted effort to keep it that way for the forseeable. Maybe I'll get around to that flatwarming one of these days...

My social-cum-private life has been ticking along nicely as well. I don't give up THAT much time to friends etc but the time I have been giving up has been well spent in my opinion. Last weekend I went to one of my best mates new flat to spend the evening with him and his good lady who introduced me to her rather lovely young friend. For the first time in ages I found myself feeling rather shy which is odd because I very rarely get like that with women. I hope I masked it well but who knows? Anyway, jury's out on that. I will not be drawn to further comment! ;-P

The car will hopefully be sold within a matter of weeks and then the decision must be made about whether I go for a brand new car (Which I can get for less than £5k after the sale of my car) and thus incur a new debt or do I go for something smaller for a similar price and hope for the best? Really hard to say right now. I still love my car but do get fed up with the endless maintenance required of having the handbrake cleaned and fixed every 6 months along with having to shell out for tyres and what have you. I know you have to do all these things on a smaller car also but my car is larger and thus everything seems to cost more.

I am also trying to occupy myself with hobbies to keep away from spending too much but am falling a little short in that also! Honestly, I am so rubbish I should just let someone else run my bank account and hand me some money each week for going out purposes as I am more than likely to simply blow my budget on things I don't really need but kinda wanted at the time. *Sigh* Will I ever learn?

But anyway, things are quite nice, thanks all the same. And depending on how things continue along I may produce a little more poetry in the near future for those who like that kind of thing.

Ciao for now. x

Looking Back

2009-07-09T23:10:00.003+01:00

It's all burned down, everything's gone
Right down to the last little memory
I can't conjure it in my mind, that light that shone
All those times we laughed so happily

I like to think we had something special once
And that we simply realised it too late
We never really gave one another that chance
To share our dreams or choose our fate

It's like they never existed, those things that we shared
Like a movie reel that's been overwritten
But I know that there was a time we both cared
Even if we have somehow forgotten

But to dwell on such things is folly they cry
And you will achieve nothing by thinking of it
So I just shake my head and smile and sigh
And think of that fire we never lit

28? more like 58.

2009-07-08T22:57:00.003+01:00

A wise man once told me that you're only as old as the woman you feel. I recently turned 28 years old and whilst that is by no means a particular milestone in my life, it did get me to thinking. A decade ago when I turned 18, I thought very much ahead to the future and can safely say that none of what I imagined then has ended up being my reality. I was only about 5'6", quite slim at the time (It's the last time I recall having a flat stomach) and the only thing that is the same now as it was then is the size of my feet (UK size 12, in case you're wondering).

I thought that as I went through my twenties, I'd land a big job in an up-and-coming business, running some team doing something business-related, own a house with a garden and perhaps even be married with kids by the time I hit 25-30. It is somewhat shocking therefore to find myself in my current situation 10 years on. Don't get me wrong, I am not moaning about how my life is, I'm just perplexed about how it's worked out. I weigh more now that at any time in my life. I own a flat (Not a house, but hey, who does these days), I have a good job with some great prospects though it is certainly not a business-related management position and I couldn't be further from being married with kids if I tried.

I look to my brothers, particularly my older brother, and I do somewhat envy them. They each have beautiful kids and successful marriages. My older brother, in particular, has a good job for which he is probably by now heavily over-qualified and my younger brother can turn his hand to anything manual and just get it done. That ability has never failed to make me marvel at it. But with marriage comes responsibility and responsibility is something I am not cut out for. I can barely care for myself, let alone someone else. Still, at least the cat is still alive I guess. So there's me in the middle: No wife, no kids, a job that is good but will never, ever make me rich.

So you have to question these things sometimes. Do I want a wife? Do I want kids? Do I want to be rich? Will all that fulfill me? That's just it: I haven't the foggiest. I bimble on through the day-to-day and I am constantly asking myself what do I really want? Frighteningly I keep finding the answer to be "I don't know". When it comes to women, I'm next to useless at knowing what I want. My problem is I get bored easy and I don't like drama or playing little games. I'm straight up, no-nonsense and I really struggle to get interested to the point of pursuing someone and I know that quite a few women (Not all, I want to stress that) like to be pursued. I just can't summon up the willpower to do it. So obviously, without a long term relationship in the pipeline, I haven't met anyone who has "potential wife" stamped on their butt-cheeks. No wife = no kids. I'm not the kind of guy to want children outside of marriage or a stable, lengthy relationship. So basically I think I am likely to be in my 30's when that rolls round, if indeed it ever does. I may find that long-term girlfriends/marriage just isn't for me and therefore that'll be the end of it.

I have that overall feeling of tiredness. I can't help wondering whether it is akin to a mid-life crisis (At 28, that's a trifle concerning) where I find my enthusiasm just waning very quickly. In the moment, I'm fine. Take me out of the situation and I could take it or leave it. That pretty much works in any context you're willing to give it for me. My tolerance levels are low, though they were never high, and I find myself easily irritated by annoying little things like grumpy old people get. It's worrying, it really is!

So how to sort the situation out? Well I start on a new unit at work next week and that's bound to present some fresh challenges and take my mind off being me for a while. That said I intend to really start adopting a healthier lifestyle once I do start. I've said it time and again throughout the very existence of this blog that I want to get healthy and lose weight etc but it's about time I stopped moaning about it and started doing something about it. I keep accepting one-off dates with women but find that most want a guy who will look after them, pursue them, flatter them or simply pander to their ego/needs. I need a woman that can make me interested by simply being herself, being confident, sassy and electrifying whilst probably being either a chubby-chaser or somewhat willing to place less emphasis on a guys physical conditioning. But it's someone I need to find attractive. Asking too much? Quite probably.

As for being rich, that just will never happen. I am not a guy who will ever have a top notch job earning a ridiculous wage. I am far from being unintelligent but at the same time, I have very few qualifications and any future job would heavily rely on the "wow" factor of my current job to get me in the door. That's a risk I just cannot take.

Bottom line, I would appreciate it if someone could do my flat up for me. Thank you.

Oh, I need to drop about three and a half stone.

Shit.

Shifting The Blame

2009-06-06T09:31:00.002+01:00

This poem is not directed at anyone, just summarises somewhat how I've felt about things before!!

-------------------------------

It's not me, it's you
And the things you want to do
All the things you want to see
When I just want to be free

You want to take up all my time
And always ask if everything's fine
When the reality could well be
That I just want to be with me

It sounds a little unfair
That I don't seem to care
But you can't just create those feelings
From nowhere, if you get my meaning

I like a lot of time to just be
And don't give up my time easily
But that's just the way that it is
And nothing seems likely to change this

So don't take it personally
And get on with who you want to be
So I can do what I need to do
'Cos it's not me, it's probably you

At A Glance

2009-05-12T21:03:00.008+01:00

Below is a short piece of creative writing based on a concept I'm working on. It's rough round the edges and not grammatically correct throughout, that much I know. I hope those of you who read it enjoy the idea at least!

"One face represents birth, the beginning of mankind
One face represents death, the inevitable end to all things under the Suns
One face represents love, the capacity for which knows no bounds
One face represents hate, the depths to which are without limit
One face represents light, the bringer of life to all creatures and plants
One face represents dark, the shadows within which the Raalshza dwell
One face represents earth, from which we come and to which we shall return
One face represents fire, the fickle element that can take away as much as it can give"

Elias sighed, pushing the book back down flat against the covers of his bed. Glancing at the timepiece upon the wall, he realised that he had managed a measely twenty minutes of revision. Rolling onto his back with another silence-shattering sigh, he clasped his hands beneath his head, rubbing at his scalp absently, still not used to the close-cropped hair he'd been forced to have after joining the guild. Looking up at the ceiling some two feet above his face, he sighed again and yawned.

"Oh do be quiet, Elias! How am I supposed to study if all I hear is your bloody sighing every few seconds?" The voice, originating from the bunk below Elias sounded thin and reedy. Elias grinned and rolled his eyes, letting loose an extra loud sigh before leaning over the side of his bed and looking down at his roomate below who merely stared back with a look of irritation, through wire-rimmed spectacles the like of which Elias had only seen worn by the masters of the guild.

"Look, Bertie, this stuff is so dull I'm about to go out of my mind. It's nothing but Prism this and Prism that and, really, who believes all that in this day and age anyway?" Bertram Filsche frowned, the lines barely showing on his forehead where the skin seemed to be too tight to be healthy. Not for the first time, he inwardly cursed his luck at being lumbered with having Elias Rothgild as a roommate. Swallowing his simmering temper he curtly responded, "It isn't a question of whether one believes it or not, Elias. To understand the nature of Prisonic Flow, you have to understand the very purpose of the Prism itself! Have you not listened to a word that Bertha said? And stop calling me Bertie. Only my Grandmother calls me that."

Elias snorted and yawned again, looking down at his diminutive roomate with a look bordering on scorn. "That old bag? By the Second Face, Bertie, she's more interested in her next meal than showing us how to control the Flow!"

Tutting loudly and gritting his teeth with annoyance, Bertram turned back to his book of manuscripts. "The trouble with you Elias, is that you're a hypocrite of the highest order. You say you don't believe in the Prism, but you're at this guild to learn the power of the Flow! You even take Its name in vain! Add to that the fact that you seem far more interested in chasing the girls at the acrobat college than studying the nature of the Flow and I can't see how you're any different to how you claim Bertha to be. Honestly, Elias, just get on with your studies or leave me be because I am, at least interested in passing the test tomorrow."

Climbing down from his bunk, Elias scratched idly at his crotch as close as he could manage to Bertram without actually having to contort himself into an odd shape. Bertram, disgusted, recoiled up the far end of his bed before burying his face back in his book. "You're revolting, Elias! Bloody leave me alone!" Grinning again, Elias chuckled quietly to himself before taking a step out of the room and into the corridor. As he does so, Bertram sighs gently and starts to read the same page for the tenth time, desperately hoping that the information will go in and stay in this time. Somehow, he finds himself counting the words on the page rather than actually reading them. Finally giving up, he buries his face in his pillow and starts to whimper, softly.

Out in the corridor, Elias starts to undo the top few thongs of his tunic, tugging the neck open into a deep V shape so that he could show off the few curly brown hairs on his chest that he had spent the last three years carefully cultivating ever since he turned sixteen. Satisfied that they were on display, he sucked in his gut which was slightly distended like a stodgy pudding from two years of heavy drinking and good food, and strode purposefully across the wooden floor towards the staircase. "Now, it's Ausby night and I've got fourteen hours to burn before the test! Where to start, where to start?"

Letting out a whoop of laughter, Elias started down the stairs, fully intent on heading straight to the acrobats college to pursue his favourite quarry. He knew full well he'd ace the test tomorrow and he couldn't wait to see the face on that simpering goit Bertram's face when he got a Distinction in Prism Theory. Sometimes it paid to simply lie back and think of Helios. Well after all, it was for a good cause. Thinking of Bertha dropping her robe and revealing herself to him the night before sent an involuntary shiver up his spine as he skipped the last few steps to the front door of the lodgehouse, landing with a thump. Trying to shake the repugnant memory from his mind, he told himself he'd soon forget about it as soon as he managed to corner one of the feisty acrobat girls and drag her along to the Gash and Dribble Inn. After all, he was Elias Rothgild, third cousin, twice-removed to the son of the Emperor-Divine himself! What woman could refuse that? Opening the heavy oaken door, he stepped out into the night beaming from ear to ear at the prospect of what the evening ahead may soon hold.

Iron Maid-ely

2009-05-08T14:11:00.003+01:00

The Wicker Man looked up, surprised to see the Ghost Of The Navigator, beckoning him on into a Brave New World. We're Blood Brothers, the ghost said, to which he replied no, I'm The Mercenary who dreams the Dream Of Mirrors. I am The Fallen Angel, The Nomad who comes Out Of The Silent Planet. I live on the Thin Line Between Love And Hate.

It's a Different World now. I stand under my own banner; These Colours Don't Run. It shines Brighter Than A Thousand Sons and I wait for The Pilgrim to come, on The Longest Day, Out Of The Shadows. I have foreseen The Reincarnation of Benjamin Breeg For The Greater Good of God. He will be The Lord of Light, The Legacy for our world.

There will be no Invaders, only the Children of the Damned. He was The Prisoner, from the hallowed place of 22 Acacia Avenue. I have reckoned with the Number of the Beast and they shall Run to the Hills. This world will be a Gangland and then will come the Total Eclipse. He will show himself then, and we will call to him, Hallowed Be Thy Name.

A lot on a very tiny mind...

2009-04-22T13:12:00.002+01:00

Don't you just hate it when you think you're doing ok and then go to the bank to check things out and then WHAM, you realise you're nowhere near as ok as you thought you were? Well, that happened to me yesterday and I found it very irritating. On the plus side, I have now managed to secure a means to make things a bit better in the short term but just like todays budget report, it'll be a measure that requires me to pay things off in the long term. Don't worry, I haven't taken out a loan or anything as galling as that. I've learned that lesson at the very least.

I suppose it comes down to my own lack of willpower, something I've struggled with over the last year or so. I get bored easily and the way to address my boredom is to buy something that stops me being bored. So how do you get past that? Well the long and short of it is, I just don't know yet. I have now joined a gym and intend to use that to take up some of my free time to stop me from getting so easily bored. I also have my revision I need to do prior to my exam in June which I really need to crack down on. I've just gotten to that point where I need to fill my time with doing something productive for the future rather than to satisfy my "wants" of the present time.

If that makes me a little selfish then so be it. I've resolved to basically quit spending my evenings going out and seeing people all the time so that I can better fund my lifestyle. It's not so difficult really if only I were to stick to the damn plan! I've budgeted my finances ever since I bought my own flat and yet I have really struggled to stick to it because of my own lack of will. Someone might suggest going out for a pint and I jump at the chance. Someone suggests going to see a show and I'm there. But how can I justify the expenditure? I can't.

So how to deal with this? I'm going to be ruthless with myself as from May. I know how much I can afford to spend and that is all I will take out of my bank at the beginning of the month. My budgets for food and going out will be stuck to or, so-help-me-God, I'll sink faster than the Titanic!

As a result of all this, in addition to the revision I am forcing myself to do, I have been in a shockingly bad mood and rather than take that out on people, I have been stowing myself away a little bit. To anyone I've been ignoring or not been particularly receptive to, you have my apologies. Catch me in a couple of months time and we'll see how things go!

Keep on keeping on.

2009-03-16T16:56:00.003Z

Well it's only been a few weeks since my last post but quite a bit has happened in that short period of time. I finally got myself a cat to share my lil' flat with and she's settled in very well indeed. She's actually a four-year-old tabby and I'm sure the non-cat lovers amongst you are shrugging your shoulders as I write this but I really felt I needed a cat to round off my flat and make it into a home. I rescued her from a colleague who told me she was being bullied by two of his other cats and I very willingly took her in. He was very kind to give her to me for free along with a litter tray and some litter. She had one or two whoopsies along the way but she's come out of her shell and is a very affectionate little cat. I renamed her from Pepsi to Lily, mainly due to her sweet nature. A chum of mine suggested the name so I can't take credit.

Also recently my best mate came down from Cardiff and spent the weekend living it up with me and some mates, and boy did we have a cracking time. The Camel Bar and 1812 in Bournemouth provided us with some truly excellent entertainment and our own irascible natures certainly added to that hilarity. It was a great opportunity to catch up after about 6 months where we hadn't done and I always love the way we just click again, like no time has passed between meets. Just a quality, quality weekend and I know he enjoyed himself no end.

I've been on all manner of courses ready for my post change in June, these past few weeks also and it's been eye-opening and valuable time spent. I'm normally fairly derisive of training courses but these ones have all been good quality and I have no complaints. I'm looking forward to the change of role, though also slightly daunted which, I suppose is a good thing. Nothing worse than acting like a blockhead and storming into the role thinking you know it all.

I also went on a date last week. Had a cracking time and we got on like a house on fire. End of the night, she told me she wanted to see me again and I went away thinking "Hey, that was really great". The following day, she'd changed her mind and just wanted to be mates. I can't pretend to know the reason behind the change of heart but I put it down to the somewhat unpredictable nature of the female beast (God love 'em). Anyway, I just put it down to another interesting experience and have moved inexorably onwards.

So in the next few weeks I'll be off to Cardiff for Wrestlemania weekend and am very much looking forward to it! Should be a laugh, at least. In the meantime, I'll keep on keeping on and will try to block out the possibility of picking up extra work whilst I'm technically away on this training course. I'm sure it's piling up but hey, I'm not back in the office until the 25th so it'll have to wait!!

Willpower

2009-03-01T20:06:00.004Z

I have noticed how incredibly difficult it is to take anything but the easy option. I have said time and again how much I want to get fit this year but I fail to make any steps in that regard. I just can't be bothered due to nothing more than a lack of willpower. The thought alone makes me want to sigh and walk in the opposite direction. But what's the alternative? Stay home and vegetate until I increase in mass even further?

I don't know, exercise basically blows. I don't enjoy it, never have done and probably never will. The only "sports" I enjoy require two or more people to make them fun, such as squash, badminton and hiking. I have no squash or badminton buddy and hiking is not something you tend to do on a weekly basis. Yes, you can join clubs and social groups but again, I really just can't be arsed!

So I don't really know how to proceed here. I could take up cycling again and get a new road bike on the "cycle to work" scheme through my job. That is very much an option and one I'd seriously consider. I have a mountain bike but the tyres on it are so thick that road cycling becomes a real chore. A road bike would make that particular aspect of cycling far more enjoyable. Again, though, it's summoning up the desire to actually go through with it all. I tend to get things to the idea stage and then stick it in the "too difficult" or "can't be arsed" boxes. Shameful, really.

I have done some exercise this past week however. I walked from Lyme Regis to Burton Bradstock with a group of colleagues and though I can't deny that it was hard work, I thoroughly enjoyed it and would love to do something similar again. Below is a taster photo of one of the views whilst on the walk. Click on it to view it full size. Check the rest out on my facebook page, those of you who have access.

On the plus side, I should be getting myself a cat this week to keep me company in my lonely ol' flat! A five-year old female tortoiseshell should hopefully be moving in after a colleague wanted her rehomed before he was forced to give her to the RSPCA. I just hope this time the plan goes through ok!

Belly Tide

2009-02-17T21:44:00.003Z

Ok, so leaving four months between posts is probably not a good thing when it comes to "blogging" but sometimes these little frivolities have to take a back seat whilst we concentrate on those things that are slightly more of a priority! Now I'm not about to say that I've been slaving away at work to the point where I don't have time for this kind of thing- far from it, but I have been spending more of my time with friends and family and doing the things I enjoy.

So it's a new year and a whole hell of a lot has happened since my last update in October. At that time I was moaning about not getting what I want at work but I can safely say that work couldn't be better right now. I have the benefit of working with a fantastic group of people who all muck in and put the effort in, 100% of the time. I think it's a rare world when you can say there isn't anyone you're working with that doesn't do your head in at some point. The unit I'm on is working smoothly and I really can't think of anything that really bugs me about it.

On another work-related note, I'm chuffed to finally land a position on a unit where I can seek to develop my investigatory skills and take on work that will be very challenging indeed. I have two exams to take this year to further develop my career and I'm very much looking forward to the opportunity those exams may afford. One of them will have an immediate benefit for when I move to a new unit in June, whilst the other will be an exam to tuck under my (rapidly expanding) belt and keep by for when I want to make the final step forward and look for promotion. That won't happen anytime soon, because I don't want it to but it's important to get the groundwork done in the meantime.

I've got a few other things I want to achieve this year, not least of all dropping some serious poundage. Having gone through the utter humiliation of using a "Wii Fit" board and having my alleged BMI and weight shouted out by everyone present, I am more determined than ever to lose some weight, particularly as there will be at least two occasions this year when I will want to look my best. That first event is in June when Dave (The bloke I allowed to bully me into standing on that blasted Wii Fit thing) gets married to his lovely fiancee and mother of his baby son. I have been called upon to be an usher at the wedding and I don't want to be the guy who's waistcoat is straining to hold back the inexorable belly tide. So for now I must endure the jibes, the ridicule and the sheer mocking brays of those who think it's clever to poke fun at overweight people. I hope that one day I can make them laugh on the other side of their face when I can get down to a less obscene level. That won't happen unless I pull my finger out and start getting down that gym or at least taking some exercise.

On the relationship front, I have accepted the notion that I simply don't know what I want. Having gone over things from my previous relationships, I know now that I will not be so ready to rush in and put my heart on the line again. When it happens, it'll hopefully be something I'll wake up thanking God for every morning. At the moment, I can't forsee anything of that nature but then I am not exactly looking for it. There is just too much else for me to think about and concentrate on without having to think about and/or worry about the ways and whims of the fairer sex.

I'm lucky at the moment for many other reasons. It's a rare evening when I am not asked to meet up with someone or other and share a drink or three or simply shoot the breeze and it's nice to have the freedom to do that. I'm glad I've managed to establish a good group of friends round me who I can rely on and who I can see and speak to at least at very short notice. Of that network of friends, thankfully I still have one or two in there from my younger days who I've known for at least 10 years or more and who still live locally enough for me to see regularly.

A couple of days back, my best friend told me he'd been turfed out by his girlfriend and though being ditched is never a fun experience, it does at least give him the excuse to come down to Bournemouth from Cardiff and live it up this weekend without having to worry about what "her indoors" thinks of it. I love women, I really do, but I doubt I will ever understand them and their ways. I think that is probably why I'll settle for getting a cat instead, for now!

Fade

2008-10-26T23:29:00.003Z

Well it's been six weeks since my last post. Funny really, I can barely recall writing the last post and yet six weeks is not so long ago. A lot has happened in that short amount of time. A sort-of relationship has come and gone, I've got a new computer and Sky+ installed and I'm progressively providing the backup I need to keep me entertained when all of my mates have finished moving away.

One of my best buddies is moving to Australia for six months, staying with a girl he met whilst on holiday in Asia. It's a brave step. I'm not sure I could do it but I sincerely hope he gets a lot out of it. I wouldn't be overly surprised if he didn't come back. I've known several people who have moved abroad, initially for 3 or 6 months at a time and then they just don't come back because they prefer life out there. Who can blame them? It's exciting to have all that new culture, different weather and different customs around you.

I doubt I'll be in a position to ever really experience that. I've tied myself down now, rightly or wrongly. I own a flat and in the current climate and indeed in any climate, it's not something you can easily deal with. Upping sticks and simply moving to pastures new is not an option, unfortunately. Any move would be on the scale of months or years. In a way, I envy those who can move in a matter of weeks to somewhere new. A lot of my friends are finally displacing around the country or abroad and in many ways, I'm quite sad about it. Despite the advent of the internet and mobile phones, it's just not the same as being able to share a few beers on a whim whenever you fancy it. It'll be a sad day when those mates of mine who are planning to move finally do so. I won't be alone or "Billy-no-mates", far from it, but it will be odd and slightly disconcerting to suddenly be without those friends that you've grown up with or become firm friends with for the last decade or so.

But I try and tell myself that they're pursuing their opportunities, as I'm pursuing mine. I have been very disappointed with the number of opportunities available to me at work but I'm no quitter and I won't back down from trying to achieve those goals that I feel suit what I want to do with my career. It'll be a tough road, without doubt. I have nothing to distinguish me from the next guy at work other than the quality of the work I do. The policies put in place aim to make the workplace a fairer place to achieve your goals but the reality feels quite the opposite for me and many others sometimes. It's hard not to feel bitter when you are turned down for courses and potential postings because the positions are already oversubscribed. I guess it's hard not to feel bitter about it but if anything, I try to use that to spur me on to keep on showing interest in the relevant areas, get your name recognised and hope that one day, however long it takes, you'll finally be in the right place at the right time.

Here's hoping on that front.

Concentrating on those goals and trying to maintain and reinforce those newer friendships of mine are what's going to help me deal with the old friends melting away into the ether as time goes on. I may be jealous of those who are being able to pursue what I would call a life of adventure and risk, but I guess there is something to be said for being able to say you own your own home, have perhaps the only "job for life" left in the country and be in a reasonably risk-free position. It may be considered dull by some, but without that, I have no idea where I'd be or what I'd be doing. I can only assume that I would not be in as good a position as I am now.

We can't have it all I guess. Hence I'm still single, right?!

One For The Team

2008-09-07T11:14:00.002+01:00

Interesting things are afoot. I like it when life throws little unexpected surprises your way as it is one of the measures of us all as to how we deal with them. Sometimes the surprises are good, sometimes they're bad but each time they happen, they should be a challenge to deal with. It's funny the kind of offers that get thrown your way too. Some people are so desperate that they will do anything to get what they want, or what they think they want. It can be tempting to give in to the offer, actually step forward and say "Yeah, I'll take that and then we both get what we want" but is it really worth going through what that person wants you to do, particularly if you're not that keen on doing it? Sorry, that sounds terribly cryptic doesn't it? Well I can't go into too much detail as the person could very easily be reading this and I'm not one for upsetting folks. Suffice to say, I didn't give in.

But there are times where we wish we had given in, right? Everyone has some regrets about things and I certainly have more than my share. Lately I regret saying the wrong thing to people, saying things I may not necessarily mean and then being too much of a coward to say "Actually, what I meant to say was..." It can cause a lot of heartache and outright ill feeling to simply say something on the spur of the moment to get what you want at the time, only to think about things in more detail and with clarity later on and think that you really, really, ought not to have said that.

But still, life is throwing up some interesting opportunities for me at the moment. I've accepted that I will not receive closure from the ex. We have finally met and chatted about things but there was nothing from the discussion we had that I would be able to say "Ah, so that's where things went wrong!" so I have simply had to accept that as an experience and move on. I'm hardly a man who has women knocking on his front door demanding attention (Well except the other night but I turned her away) but I have a feeling things are looking up and at least I'm putting myself out there, which is important. It's far, far too easy to stay at home and martyr oneself for an unknown cause, trying to prove a point and losing your mates in the process. I'm gonna get out there and have a laugh, at least. Humour is the best way to deal with these things, after all.

And for those single ladies out there? Don't worry, I'm not about to start cracking on to you all.

I'll wait for you to come to me! :-)

(Yes I know I'll likely be waiting a long time in that case...!)

Down to the bottom of the Sea

2008-08-14T09:00:00.004+01:00

Well it's been several weeks since my last blog and I can officially say I have been skint for most of that period. My car cost me £150 to get through it's MOT in a month where I was already dealing with a tight budget and I still had my buildings insurance to pay as well. Fanastic.

Surprisingly, therefore, I am in a chirpy mood. Things have been coming down around my ears but I feel like the proud captain standing by and waiting for the ship to finally sink beneath the waves and I along with it, clinging to pride and oblivious to my fate. I guess I've just decided that life throws lots of curve balls your way and you have to ride it out or else you will become a depressing person to be around. These things do throw up further options to you, such as whether to stay in the job you're in if you're not satsfied with it, whether to get rid of your car and get a new one or whether to take a chance on someone new and see if it'll lead to happiness.

I'm not one for doing something drastic. I like to weigh up my options before going for any one in particular and I'm in no hurry to do so at the moment. Things have been tight this month and will probably be a little tight next month as well but on the plus side, I'll have a nice chunk of overtime coming to me in September which is something I will certainly need to help me pay for this month!

On the "love" front, things are currently non-existant but I also kinda like it that way for now. I've given a lot of myself to people over the past year or so and have usually had it thrown back in my face so I think it's time for me to simply focus on myself and what I need. I'm one of those guys who likes to make his other half happy and unfortunately that is something that can either be taken advantage of or simply goes unrecognised. I'm not keen to step into meeting someone else and risk either of those two situations so will do what I do best, which is bimble along and see what happens. A couple of people have shown an interest but I'm not after anything serious at the mo. Once my finances are fully in order and back on track, maybe I'll consider it.

Well, I agreed to meet up with the ex to have a chat about things but it's been over a month now and I've not seen her. She's not been able to make time so I've pretty much got on with things regardless. I'm not one for dwelling on things so have just got out there, met up with people and had a good time. Your mates are the measure of you, and I have truly fab mates, thankfully. I'm glad I kept in contact over the years because without them, I'd be a hermit!

Give A Little Bit

2008-08-03T14:47:00.002+01:00

As you can probably imagine, the last 10 days or so have been a bit of a rollercoaster for me. Following the break-up, I've applied myself to my job and also committed myself to seeing quite a few of my friends that I might not otherwise have seen. And the result? I've had an excellent time. People have been supportive and for that, I'm grateful. The other day I went to the wedding reception of perhaps the most genuine guy in the world and his lovely wife and had a rollickingly good few hours in good company and with good music. I loved every minute of it.

So what next for me? I don't know, particularly. I just want to spend some time "being", if that makes much sense. Relationships are hard work and quite draining and it'll be nice to be able to get on with things without the constant worry of looking out for someone else as well as yourself. I will miss it, and miss her, but life goes on and I have to remember that. I've been down the beach quite a bit, not trying to get tanned, but just enjoying the sound, sight and smell of the coast and I think it's done me the power of good.

And with that, I'll leave you with an excerpt from one of my favourite songs:

Give A Little Bit (Goo Goo Dolls version from the album "Let Love In")

Give a little bit
Give a little bit of your love to me
Give a little bit
I'll give a little bit of my love to you
See the man with the lonely eyes
Take his hand, you'll be suprised

So i'll give a little bit
I'll give a lttle bit of my life for you
So give a little bit
Give a little bit of your time to me
Now's the time that we need to share
So send a smile, we're on our way back home
Oooh yeah yeah
We gotta feel it
Yeah yeah yeah yeah...
Oooh
Don't you need to feel at home
Oooh you gotta feel it
Yea you gotta want to
Oooh you gotta sing, we've come along way tonight

So give a little bit
Give a little bit of your love to me
I'll give a little bit
I'll give a little bit of my life for you
Now's the time we need to share
So send a smile, we're on our way back home
Yeah come along too
Yeah we gotta feel it
Cause I need to feel at home
Come along too
Such a long ride
Oooh come a long way
Such a long ride
Come a long way
Sing it tonight

An End To All Things

2008-07-26T12:20:00.003+01:00

Well, some of you may now be aware that I have returned to singledom status. I think one of the hardest things about breaking up with someone when you're not expecting it or not wanting it to happen is that you're left with hundreds of unanswered questions. The why's, the how come's. Breaking up is never easy but if you feel you don't understand why it has happened the way it has, you are probably deluding yourself somewhat. All of us, each and every one, are aware of the aspects of a relationship that they don't like or that they'd like to improve. More often than not, break-ups occur with those problems and issues being at the very least a contributing factor.

Sometimes, like me, you might think you've gone the extra mile to try and address those problems or to try and work around them. When you feel that way, the break-up is that much harder as you can't comprehend what else you could have done. The fact is, there probably isn't anything else you could of done. I've never been one to simply give up on a relationship that I believe in, but when someone has made up their mind, trying to talk them into changing it is, frankly, often counter-productive. Someone who feels it simply isn't working for reasons other than those you already know about, is highy unlikely to change their mind and suddenly think they can work through those issues.

I don't really know or understand why things didn't work out for me other than we are two very different people and I have often struggled to feel wanted or needed. I had begun to feel a bit happier about things in the last couple of weeks but the warning signs were all there for me, I simply chose not to assume the worst. I'm a bit of a realist/pessimist but I put things down to paranoia on my part and a difficult life event on hers. Unfortunately, I should have listened to that little voice in my head telling me something was up.

People have asked me if I dislike her, hate her or resent her for wanting to break up with me but, no, I actually don't. Not at all. I respect her feelings and I care about her enough to know that if I'm not right for her at this time in her life, then I sincerely hope she goes on to find happiness elsewhere as I appear unable to provide that for her. I wouldn't reject speaking to her in future, I wouldn't turn my back on her or suddenly go out of my way to avoid her because although we had only been a couple for 3 months and yes, we had our issues, I think we had more good times than bad and not a single row or argument. We discussed our problems several times and I hold a certain pride that we have managed to be more than civil with each other for the entire duration because if we had fought like cat and dog since the get-go, then there would not be the sense of loss that I do now have. Whilst that loss causes my stomach to do flips each time I think of her and the time we spent together, I wouldn't change that for the world. I'd sooner feel that loss, than a sense of relief.

I know I tried my best. That's all I can do and all I can expect of myself. Sometimes, you simply have to accept that.

A Poem

2008-07-22T23:02:00.000+01:00

I was drifting off to sleep not 20 minutes ago when a sudden flutter of words came into my mind. I had to get up and jot them down before I lost them and the result is below. No word of a lie, it took me about 10 or 15 minutes to write this piece and the last time I wrote a poem was at school over a decade ago so apologies for anyone who thinks it sucks:

"There"

I think of you most as I lie alone
And my heart would bleed, even if it were stone
As you're out of reach, consumed in your grief
Your eyes tired and red like an autumn leaf

I think of the things I wish I had said
To help calm all the thoughts going round in your head
And though we live thinking nothing is fair
At least you will know, my dear that I care

So that when at last, you drift off to sleep
My thoughts are still with you, my heart yours to keep

Fix You

2008-07-13T22:23:00.000+01:00

I've previously talked about how we take things and people for granted, how we assume much and guess even more to fill in the gaps in our knowledge and understanding. When we hit a roadblock, be it in a relationship or whilst actualy out driving, we naturally seek a way around it. We turn around, find another route or we simply check to see who's looking, move the cones and drive on through like it isn't even there. Rarely do we stop to consider why there's a roadblock there in the first place. Sometimes that judicious moving of the cones can cause you a heap of trouble when you later crash into a pothole. Enough of the analogies. I think all too often, we look at problems and barriers and we seek to solve them, rather than understand them and work out why they're there.

Barriers are there for a reason. No one of sound mind erects a barrier on a whim, wanting to prevent a relationship from developing. The barrier will be there for a damn good reason. Relationship barriers can be difficult to spot but once recognised, they become very clear and often painful to consider. Ignoring them is the worst thing you could do. Trying to solve them is generally not what the owner of the barrier wants you to do. Barriers, like it or not, come down in their own good time. Rush the process and you'll get burned. Ignore them and you're doomed to failure.

The key, therefore, is to identify the barrier and understand it. Understanding goes hand in hand with communication as being one of the most important things in any relationship. We frail humans, frail in body as well as in mind, all too often look to ourselves to try and understand why someone feels the way they do when ultimately, those feelings have often been in place for a long time before you've even met. You cannot understand what you do not consider from someone elses point of view because your own opinion on a subject is nothing more than that. And opinions are a dime a dozen. To understand someone, you have to look at it from their perspective and ignore your own thoughts and feelings for the time being. Consider how you would feel in their situation. Put yourself in their shoes and take a good long walk. You'll be surprised where those shoes can take you and how they can help you to better understand one another.

I have struggled with this concept, there's no denying. My feet ain't small. Asking me to try on another persons shoes is like asking me to thread the Swanage ferry chain through the eye of a sewing needle. I usually blunder in, blurt out some nonsense and then reflect on it later in the day and curse myself for saying something stupid or assuming something that is patently ridiculous. I don't pretend to know everything. I am an "analyst" when it comes to relationships but I am also a reflector. I reflect on events after they have passed and whilst this is useful for learning what not to do next time round, it can seriously cause problems at the time of the event itself.

I don't know if this is making a whole lot of sense to anyone who may be reading this but the long and short of it is this: People never want you to "fix" them. They want you to understand and they want you to accept them for who they are. If you can't do that or you're not prepared to do that, then you should be prepared to move on.

Me? I recognise the barriers now. I see them for what they are and I aim to understand them and accept them. Behind that barrier is a very special person and someone who is deserving of much more than I have so far been able to offer. I don't want to fix anymore. I must simply accept.

Such a simple word and a simple concept. Why, then, can it be so hard to achieve?

****

"Fix You" from Rise and Fall, Rage and Grace by The Offspring

She wakes up
Rage and grace
Pulling me closer, pushing away
And me
The sharpest thorn on your vine
Twisting and turning
We’re all intertwined

Broken wing
Empty glass
Words that scream and bounce right back
She says, you know
We’d all like to rearrange

I wish I could fix you
And make you how I want you
I wish I could fix you
And I wish you could fix me

I wish I could heal you
And mend where you are broken
I wish I could heal you
And I wish you could heal me

Ha la la la

A beaming sunrise buries the night
The setting sun destroys the light
Then she says, baby, I’ve gotta get going
Cutting each other
Without even knowing

She sees a million stars like holes in the sky
All God’s tears for her they cry
And I am in her rain

Communication

2008-07-07T16:33:00.001+01:00

Contrary to the what I thought about myself, I am a poor communicator and also poor at recognising signs of communication. I take a lot of what I do for granted, bimbling along at a steady pace, going through the motions and seriously thinking that I'm doing things right for all involved whenever I can. But sometimes going through the motions just isn't enough. When you look at how things are going for you with a critical eye, suddenly that lovely polished veneer that you put on everything has some obvious flaws, some cracks in the lacquer. The thing you have to remember is that those cracks can polish out if given due care and attention.

Going through the motions of basic communication can only get you so far before you have to rein yourself in and consider things from a more in-depth point of view. That is currently what I'm doing. For all the flowery language I use, I suck at actually conveying what it is I want to say in personal situations. I clam up and oftentimes would rather say nothing at all than risk a situation by speaking out plainly. That's a confidence issue but I think it's also based on my inability to read a situation. I find that ironic from a 3rd party point of view based on the fact that my job often requires me to speak plainly and with confidence, yet on a personal level I seem to struggle there.

So every few weeks, I find myself having to go over what has happened in the interim period and actually work out for myself what has and hasn't gone according to plan. Sometimes the realisation of what isn't going according to plan needs to be brought up by another person within the relationship be it the partner, family member or friend and only then does the realisation hit you. Being on cruise control prevents any relationship from evolving.

Sometimes we restrain ourselves or withhold who we are to better suit the relationship if we feel that being ourselves could be potentially damaging. That sets a dangerous precedent. How can someone expect to get to know the real you, learn to trust you and actually feel secure in the relationship if you are not being true to yourself and in front of them? Sometimes that risk we take pays off and sometimes it doesn't. In my case, it often hasn't paid off. For all the great friends I've got, I've never been too successful with women because I play it safe, I bimble along and I flick into cruise control when we're at a safe juncture. When that happens, the relationship just won't develop and until I recognise the signs of me simply cruising on, I will never know to rectify the problem.

But the solution can seem daunting. Being true to yourself is a wonderful theory but in general, we often fear who we really are because there is so much about us that we don't like. We repress that side of ourselves in the vain hope that it will prevent someone else from seeing our more vulnerable side and thereby reduce the number of reasons someone may have for ditching us. But the true damage is that by withholding, our girlfriends or boyfriends will struggle to understand who we are and what makes us tick. How can you expect someone to trust you when you can't be honest with them and show them who you really are? There aren't any big skeletons in my closet, there's nothing I would be ashamed of and yet I repress myself to simply try not to come across in a bad light. The irony is that I will present myself in a bad light for that very reason.

So the point to this blog entry? Stop bimbling along. Stop cruising, going through the motions and doing yourself an injustice by trying to hide from yourself. No one will thank you for it, least of all you when you find yourself struggling to form any new relationships. If someone wants to be with you, they will accept you for who you are and you should never be afraid to show them that, as hard as it may seem. Relationships are a risk, there's no doubt about that, but it's a risk worth taking if the person you meet is someone you potentially want to give your heart to.

Time to turn off the cruise control.

Confrontation

2008-06-25T22:02:00.000+01:00

Below is nothing more than a random piece of creative writing. Some of you may or many not be aware that I am currently putting together some ideas with an aim to writing a novel. What I've written below is nothing more than a brief introduction to a character I may or may not ever use. I appreciate that it is random and somewhat overwritten in terms of description, but I snapped this out in about 15 minutes so I'm not expecting utter brilliance at this stage! Anyway, I'll keep you posted, hope those of you who read this liked its content.

*****

Sweat trickled down his broad back, running into the cracked black leather of his makeshift belt that was holding up his waterproofed, animal-leather breeches. Stripped to the waist, his right hand gripped the axe just below its huge head, his left hand providing a counterbalance at the base of its hickory haft. The swamp had now gone silent, not a trace of chattering from any of the wading birds and a distinct lack of the usually numerous buzzing insects at all apparent in this dark, murky corner of the Helios bogs. Up to his knees in the filthy, slime-thick waters, the big man sniffs quietly, his nostrils filling with the smell of the disturbed water, the peat below it and... something else. It was getting dark and he had wanted this over with many hours before. Another hour and he would have to turn back to safer ground. Cursing mildly under his breath, he closes his eyes briefly and steels himself.

A burst of movement from his right sends him whirling to one side, swinging the massive axe in an attempt to strike out at whatever made the movement. The heavy blade slices nothing but air and his green eyes narrow with suspicion and momentary confusion. Certain that his axe should have made contact, he sees nothing but a pool of bubbling water some three feet from his position.

Eyes widening, he turns suddenly, reversing the sweep of the two-handed axe and drawing his right hand back down the axe-haft as he lifts it high with an impressive overhead swing before bringing the huge weapon down hard with an audible and sickening crack, right into the skull of the Marsh Creeper that had risen clear of the bog behind him. As its grimy cranium splits in two, easiliy giving way to the force of the blow, the Creeper lets out a rattling and piteous moan of pain before the continued momentum of the big mans strong arm reduces the Creeper into a stinking pile of brittle-looking limbs and filthy, sallow flesh.

Breathing heavily with a sudden need to exhale what's left of his adrenaline the axe wielder uses the back of one grubby hand to wipe his forehead of the sweat caused by a combination of exhertion and simple muggy heat.

Tryfan Hanbane, Farwalker of Helios had solved yet another problem for yet another ungrateful village. At least now he had earned the right to trade his wares in their miserable collection of huts, though whether they would allow him a room for the night was quite another matter...

Slack

2008-06-14T09:40:00.000+01:00

Firstly I apologise as it has been a month and a half since my last blog. Truth of the matter is I've been a fairly busy bee working every piece of overtime I can get my hands on in order to give me a hand with the bills etc. I'm going away to Jersey at the end of the month and could do with the financial boost by the time I get back.

But everything seems to be going quite well at the moment. Seen a few friends lately that I've not seen in ages and kinda reminded me just how much I used to enjoy meeting up with them. Shame we don't live closer so that we can make a regular thing of it again. What with petrol prices as they are, I'm trying to cut out any unnecessary travel and find other ways of getting places I want to go. I'm picking up my bicycle this weekend so that I can cycle to work as it's only a 30 to 40 minute trip. Still looking to sell my car as well, thinking of getting a part exchange but first I have to transfer the personal number plate!That's £80.00 straight off the bat!

Work hasn't been quite so good lately. I was disappointed with an application I had submitted being turned down. I won't be going into any detail here as I'm looking at challenging the situation to see what can come out of it on the positive side. Looks like I'll be staying on the attachment I'm on at the moment for at least another 3 months which suits me. I get on well up there and I enjoy the work I'm doing.

On the relationship front, I like how things are going. Again, it's obviously not an area I want to go too deeply into as it's simply between me and her but suffice to say, I'm seriously digging it right now.

Just a short blog really. I can't think of anything clever to write today and I really need to head to the gym in a minute so hopefully I can put something up that'll be deep and meaningful another day. Catch ya'll soon.

Trivial

2008-04-29T15:39:00.000+01:00

In todays Daily Mail there is an article indicating research carried out on females to discover whether they want a relationship of commitment and when they want to settle down.

Interestingly, it claims the majority of women would like to marry a man called James, who earns at least £25,000.00, by the time she's 25.

Now apart from making me feel much better about myself, I can't possiby see why anyone would carry out that kind of research. To me, it sounds like a waste of money. And with petrol prices expected to reach £1.70 a litre by the autumn, cutting back on these ridiculous studies and pointless other areas of research could save us all a lot of money. Now I have no idea if the research conducted was funded by the taxpayer and frankly, I don't care. Regardless, its these little things where people and businesses fritter away money on pointless exercises just to create yet another piece of useless trivia that make me shake my head in wonderment at the reasons for it all.

Moving on, things have been going quite well for me lately. I've finally managed to sort out some of the minor things that'd gone a bit awry in the flat and clear up some of my outstanding jobs and the seemingly neverending list of "things I must do". This weekend I have a four-day weekend starting friday and I'm very much looking forward to it. I had to give evidence at court today, only to be summoned before the Magistrate having sat in the witness room for an hour and a half, to be told "Thanks for attending, but no one else turned up so this case is being discontinued."

How frustrating is that? You go to all the trouble of dealing supportively with victims, taking detailed statements from all the witnesses, arresting the offender, interviewing him, charging him, preparing the file for court only for the case to be discontinued because the victim and witnesses haven't bothered to come to court. How many hours have been used on this one simple case that could have been put to better use dealing with people who really need the help of the Police? Sometimes I can only shake my head again at the pointlessness of the system when it forces us to act for people who have no morals, sponge off society and make no contribution to the local community at all. Now don't get me wrong, no one has the right to assault another person, steal from another person or indeed commit a crime of any kind, but it frustrates me no end when one day you deal with a person in custody and the next day you have to deal with them as a supposed victim of crime, knowing full well that when it comes to the crunch, they won't bother coming to court and won't think anything of it.

It's hard to make a difference from my position but I take solace in knowing that at least some of the genuine victims, those who've done nothing except live their lives, pay their taxes and work for their families, these are the people you actually feel pleased to help, pleased to get justice for.

I'll step off my soapbox now and concentrate on the weekend. I can't change the world and frankly I don't think any one man can, but there's nothing to stop us trying!

The Kids Aren't Alright

2008-04-14T08:09:00.000+01:00

Do you ever have one of those days where you'd said or done something that you susbsequently really wish had never happened? They're fairly common, really. For all our supposed conscious intellect, human beings can be thoughtless and rude in a way that no other species can match. Bit ironic, then, that we also have the capacity to care more than any other species as well. Is it a conscious decision to be one way or the other or do we simply have a "pre-set" idea of how to react? I don't know if anyone can answer these questions with any degree of certainty. We can speculate and that's about it.

My own particular speculation is that insecurity in oneself usually governs how much capacity we have to truly care about others and about our actions. The outside factors affecting this are things like alcohol, drugs and our environment. You do see people who are insecure about themselves, hate the way they look or think that they're worthless and yet still have the capacity to really care for someone or something else that bucks the trend.

I was recently told I should be more confident in myself. How you talk about yourself projects an image, be it one of confidence or one of insecurity. As has been my habit for many years, I do tend to talk down about myself. Is that an insecurity or is it simply the way I am? I think it's probably a bit of both. Like everyone else I have certain hang-ups about myself. I struggled with my weight until recently and I used to hate having to confront the issue. Now I go to the gym frequently but there are still things about myself I'd like to change. And I guess that's where the insecurity lies for me. For me it's nothing more than body-image whereas insecurity itself comes in as many different forms as people do. I'm a confident person. I guess I have to be to do my job. So many people I have met could be considered physically beautiful individuals and yet they're still insecure within. Whether it's because they worry about only being taken at face value, or because they fear they have no natural talents or particular aptitude to certain tasks or academic subjects, it's impossible to say for sure. Some use their beauty to get what they want and to try and be loved by others and it will work to a degree, but underneath that beautiful exterior is usually someone roiling with uncertainty, wanting to be looked at as much more than simply a physical object.

All those people you've seen in magazines looking gorgeous or handsome, even if you know they've been airbrushed to look entirely different to the way they actually look, you can't help but think "That's what I'd like to look like" or what you should look like. This perception is actually very dangerous, in my opinion. Body image in young people is nothing new and nothing I can particularly lay claim to knowing much about. When I was younger, I had no particular body image to aspire to. I knew I wasn't sporty or even particularly good at any sports so it meant nothing to me. So why now, why when I am approaching my late 20's do I think more about the subject than I did 10 years ago? I have no honest idea, but it intrigues, and somewhat bothers me at the same time. Beauty is subjective, I think we'd do well to remember that sometimes. How we perceive ourselves is irrelevant when we're being looked at through someone elses eyes. The whole "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder" thing, whilst being a dreadful cliche and one I wanted to keep out of this blog, it really holds some water in my opinion.

Does this self-perception prevent me from caring too much about others? It certainly has done in the past, no doubt. I'd be the first to admit that once upon a time I was very cold to people, distant and uninterested. Fortunately that has changed and I find myself capable of giving a damn in ways that had previously been unknown to me. Why the change? I don't really know. I don't think it's because I dropped some weight, or that I've felt I've become more capable at work. I will put some stock in finding my own measure of independence and being able to truly rely on nothing more than myself to get by has meant my own self-belief has increased and confidence rises at the same time.

But regardless of the whys and wherefores, I do find that I care a great deal about certain individuals and am better able to accept that someone else cares about me in a similar way.

Which brings me back to my original point.

If you go out of an evening and fancy a few beers. Trust me, leave your mobile phone at home. It really will prevent later embarassment...!

Land of Hope & Dreams

2008-04-05T21:59:00.001+01:00

The last few years have been kind to me, I won't deny it. I got the job I always wanted, I now own a nice car (Handbrake trouble notwithstanding), and I own my own home - something that I never would have thought possible in my early twenties. But the last few years brought drama as well. Relationships came and went like wheat before a scythe and it has taken me these last nine months of singledom to finally look back on those experiences with a more thoughtful eye and actually reflect on what happened and why.

I won't be naming names (Or naming and shaming, as one or two people might have been concerned about) and I won't particularly be going into specifics because frankly, no one likes to hear stories of past relationships and who did what to whom. I'm of the opinion that those relationships all serve a purpose and are all part of what makes us who we are today and identifies us as different to one another. We've all had various experiences ranging from the very good to the very bad and not for a second do I think that my own experience is greater or somehow more important to talk about than anyone elses, however it is generally all I have to go on so you'll have to bear with me.

When I first started my current employment, slightly less than two and a half years ago, I was fully supported in that by my other half at the time. We had had our problems but I had been good enough to gloss over those with "happy paint" and assume that the damage beneath the surface had been repaired. Unfortunately the paint began to peel, the cracks began to show and the mould finally surfaced and the relationship went, for lack of a better term, tits up. That hurt. It hurt quite a bit. But, you know, 6 months later all was well again. I was actually in a reasonably good frame of mind and had fully committed myself to my work but since then I have had time to think back on that relationship and the brief couple that I've had since and actually consider those relationships from a more reflective standpoint.

I used to be one of those dependable guys who would do anything for his partner, anything that I thought would make them happy. This usually involved spending my money on them. It also usually involved taking them places, taking them out and making sure that they never got bored (Money, money and money again!). Now this is not a healthy way to run a relationship. In the end we had both realised that there should have been something more to a relationship than simply trying to constantly placate your partner with gifts.

You cannot buy love. Lesson learned.

My next relationship was one of need, for me. I thought I needed to be with someone to be happy and so I met someone and struck up a short relationship with them. But I was too needy and it was obvious. When you have to ask someone if you "can call them your girlfriend" then it's plainly obvious that there is no particular link between the two of you beyond the physical and I won't deny it, that was basically all that we shared.

Company is good but there is more to love than the purely physical. Lesson learned.

Following on from this I met someone through somebody else. This had alarm bells from the beginning where you think to yourself "This could get nasty if it goes horribly wrong", mainly because I knew this persons immediately family. It went wrong because at this stage I had become the opposite of needy. I was stand-offish and this time it was me who didn't want to get close to someone, didn't want to committ all my free time to someone and didn't want to compromise. That wasn't at all fair to her and obviously she deserved better than that.

Independance is good, but too much independance creates loneliness and feelings of abandonment. Lesson learned.

And so what kind of a guy am I now? I've looked back objectively at these things that have happened in my life and I like to think that actually, I've found a happy medium. I'm independant without being aloof, appreciative of company without being reliant upon it and I don't fritter my money away on worthless things in an attempt to make me more attractive to someone, however I am willing to make the same effort to make someone happy in other, more fulfilling ways. Does that make me more desirable or attractive? Does that make me worthy of a fantastic girlfriend? The answers to those questions are not something I can provide myself. I can only hope that the lessons I've learned will aid me in the future and that I won't be subjected to further disappointment. It's funny, because those are the same hopes as the ones I've had ever since day dot.

The hopes and the dreams don't disappear, they don't change unless we achieve them. True dreams are never achieved, they simply remain our inspiration and provide us with a sense of purpose. It's just the way we look to achieve them that changes as experience and life lessons help us negotiate the crazy highway of life.

So as I slip the car into 3rd gear and apply pressure to the accelerator, I can only hope to keep my eye on the road ahead and avoid any further car trouble.

Oh, and throw out that old can of "happy paint"...!

A Welcome... Of Sorts

2008-03-31T20:28:00.001+01:00

Many years ago I came to the conclusion that life never simply gives you an opportunity. The old adage of "you never get something for nothing" is one that I believe and have stuck by for at least the last few years. I've struggled with issues, the same as anyone else and I don't for one second feel I am particularly put upon as a result, or that I have had experiences any better or worse than the next person. I suppose when it comes right down to it, I don't consider myself to be a particularly "stand-out" guy. I trudge through the day to day routines the same as everyone else and I deal with the ups and downs the same as most other people.

But then there are things that we do that make us, even if just for a second, feel better than we usually do. If this seems like a pointless ramble to you, then it probably is, but I ask you this: What have you done for yourself lately? What one thing have you done to take you beyond your normal boundaries? Have you been outside your comfort zone in the last month, the last year even?

For most people, the answer would be no. But there are things we do that will continually place us in that zone just outside of "Comfortsville". Buying my first home was probably the biggest thing I've done in my life so far that threw me straight into a somewhat vulnerable position. Bear in mind that my upbringing could easily be considered to be "sheltered". Regular family, regular income, two brothers, both parents still together. My own view of "normal", therefore, may well be different to any number of peoples but I can never say that my life was hard growing up. We had what we needed and we had nice places to live. I never saw the so-called "dark" side of life. I have only lived away from home once, for six months in 2005 into 2006. I'm currently 26 years of age and only moved home into my own flat in February this year. Sheltered? Definitely.

But I've done things that have taken me outside of that comfort zone, not least of all my job, which I am not going to get into other than to say this: I have now seen the seedy underbelly of society, albeit in a not particularly large area and not in to any vast degree that could make me claim to be "affected" by it or even claim to be an authority on the subject. But the danger, on occasion, has been very real and it opened my eyes no end to the realities of life for a very different cross-section of society. And yet I took what I learned and I applied it to my own life and I like to think that I appreciate what I have a lot more than I did just a few short years ago.

I've got some different friends that I see quite regularly and even have the somewhat dubious pleasure of working with on occasion. I never thought I could call a colleague a real friend but there are several that I would place in that category now without hesitation and for whom I would happily sacrifice some of my time and energy to help out if they wanted it. Previously I liked to keep my work life and my home life seperate and I can still say that whilst I never take my work home with me, I do like the fact that some friends extend from the workplace into my social life.

So what is the purpose of this blog? Well I'd be lying if I said that living by myself didn't come at a price. The opportunity to be your own person is great but sometimes you just need to write down your thoughts in black and white and stick them out there for people to see if they're that bothered. Everyone needs an outlet. For some its music, for others its the gym. For me, my passion has always been writing.

So welcome one and all to the blog. I have no idea how long this will last or whether it will even be read by anyone but hey, it's out there and I hope to make use of it as an outlet for my thoughts as well as an opportunity to write some short stories. Please bookmark it if it takes your fancy and I always appreciate constructive comments.

Thanks

Jay