The World According to the Chocolate Monkey

Photoblog?

2010-04-05T12:33:00.004+01:00

Well, this is a bit of an experiment. If this platform works out, who knows, this may be reinvented as a photoblog...

Momentary lapse

2007-10-23T00:00:00.001+01:00

I thought it was about time that I wrote something either genuinely interesting or something positive.

I recently attended a conference in the US. I actually enjoyed it. Anyone who knows me must appreciate how strange this is. A few hundred people, thrown together at a hotel with the primary intention of networking – and I enjoyed it.

I was speaking to a friend’s husband recently about how he goes about these things. I asked for advice, reminding him that he probably knew me well enough to know my starting point. His advise was simple – among any given number of people there will always be a few that could be friends. The secret to making the whole thing bearable is, apparently, to focus on trying to meet people that you genuinely get on with. Every interaction that doesn’t work out is just a process by which hopefully, one can stumble across some kind of ‘connection.’

Well, in any case, I met an amazing four people with whom I genuinely think I could have been friends (and perhaps will be), and another few people whose company I rather enjoyed. There you have it – a positive experience.

I’ve been meaning to rant about networking for a while, but I guess most people will be too busy on Facebook to even read it, so I’ll leave it for another day.

I’ve recently been listening to Grinderman, The Jesus Years (cheers again Ambrose) and Death Cab for Cutie. Just so you know.

The drumming is coming along nicely too.

Trajectory

2007-10-22T23:41:00.000+01:00

This was written a while ago. Like most of my recent ramblings, I haven't been in the mood for posting.

It’s strange to think that perhaps I have no excuses.

I’ve been sharing an office for the last couple of weeks, for the first time in a few years. It makes my daytimes much more stressful, as I share with someone with whom I share little in common, someone who is needlessly headstrong and someone who over-zealously conveys her superior understanding of our area of expertise. I shouldn’t really write about work on anything public, so suffice it to say that I’m having difficulty balancing a relationship with someone who is two years my junior. Rather pathetic really.

On other fronts, I have been feeling a little off recently.

I had a lovely chat with my biological father a few days ago.

My biological sister is having a tough time. Her husband is a waste of space and it only really struck me tonight how desperately lonely a life with three children and no partner to support you must be. I love her children dearly, and a part of me wishes they were my own. However fortunate I am, I find it difficult to move away from the notion of my life being difficult. My biological father actually asked me for advice. I realise now that the emotional acknowledgement I’ve sought all of my life comes at a price.

I wonder sometimes what would have happened if I had brushed this all under the carpet. If I didn’t have the welfare of my sister and her children to worry about, and the health of my biological father weighing on my shoulders. I mean seriously, what have I done, what will I do to make anything any better for them. I am too busy trying to build my own life, my own career to give them the time that they deserve. I kid myself with the notion that I somehow care and that I have somehow made provision for their well-being in my life. When the hard choices come, I know that I’ll look after myself every time. After all, how can I look after anyone else if I can’t look after myself? My excuses disgust me.

I want to do so many things and yet at the moment I seem to be struggling to hold everything together. Now that I’ve moved to London, life has settled and work has calmed down, I expected to finally feel something resembling a sense of control.

However, I seem to be in a bit of a muddle. I can’t follow abstract thought at work, I can’t help but feel like I am about to fall over, quite literally at the moment, I can’t judge distances, I can’t manage the simplest of interactions at work without making some cringe-worthy faux pas.

There’s always a difficulty in putting conditionality on one’s mental well-being. If only… well what happens when you get to where you want to get to and you realise that you’re only inches closer to where you want to be, and that you’ve lost your bearings once again. How many years is this going to take?

I am trying to tell myself at the moment that I must be a pretty intelligent and talented individual. Sometimes I even believe it, although this is mostly an over-compensatory mechanism, the functioning of which I understand far too well.

I think I’ll go shopping tomorrow. Spending money makes most people feel better.

I think I should get some sleep. I’ll re-read tomorrow morning and undoubtedly be disappointed with what I’ve written. It’s incredibly difficult to convey a frame of mind that one hasn’t really got to the bottom of.

I sometimes kid myself that my self-awareness is through the roof. I sometimes tell myself that I am better than most.

[Recess/semi-colon]

2007-09-04T00:04:00.000+01:00

I’ve always suffered from a slight lack of confidence in my abilities, which I think, or at least I hope, has helped to keep me on the right side of the line between confidence and arrogance.

I recently bought a drum kit, some ten years after first wanting to buy one. I’ve treated myself to some Roland V-Drums, which are pretty damn amazing. Living in flats for the foreseeable future, an electronic drum kit was pretty much the only option. The challenge now is to make it worth the wait – I have to learn to play.

The last few months at work have been mentally tiring and intellectually gruelling. I feel like a fraud every time I use any derivation of the word intellectual, but I think it’s fair to say that my work is more intellectually demanding than that of most lawyers. Periodically, I sincerely lament the fact that I am not more intelligent. I see the ease and the speed with which people process information and new concepts and it makes me feel nauseous. I 'm not fishing.

My dear friend Patrick is going to start teaching me French soon. One of these days I will be fluent.

Close friends and family aside, I can’t help but feel occasionally under-appreciated. I seem to spend most of my life trying, and I’d like to spend more of it just living.

Wingspan, unbelievable

2007-08-27T23:59:00.000+01:00

I’ve been writing quite a bit lately but I don’t really have the time to re-read and post things on here. A lot of things are only half-written and I really want to follow through on some of the thoughts I have started. For now though, I am content enough with the fact that I am writing anything at all. Every thought written down is a thought saved.

The final pieces of my transitional jigsaw are falling into place. I find myself telling mid-orbit friends how happy I am, with what must seem like an unnecessary and slightly exaggerated zeal. For the friends that know me a little better, I think it hardly needs to be mentioned. I think what I am trying to say is thank you.

Wasteful sidesteps

2007-07-03T23:50:00.000+01:00

Once again in transit and this time it doesn’t feel so bad. I am heading home to see my new-born niece. I never thought I’d be so excited about meeting someone I can’t even have a conversation with.

One of the things on my mind recently is whether, nearly two decades after my first computer, I should change from a single space after full stops to a double space. I recall being reliably informed, although I don’t know when or by whom (it could be a figment of my imagination), that it was somewhat old-fashioned to double space after a full stop – a legacy from the days of typewriters or something of the like. But in any case, I am now working with people who insist on the double-space, one of them an old-fashioned type, and it’s becoming frustrating having to amend my style when working on their documents.

I’ve just been caught trying to work out whether the woman sat across the aisle from me is attractive or not. I got lost in a daydream first meeting while I was looking in her direction and forgot the fact that I hadn’t averted my gaze. It’s strange how people sense when they are being watched.

I guess there’s a lot that we can’t explain or understand, and the temptation to resort to superstition and supernatural beliefs can be compelling. In that sense, I suppose most people take the easy option. We should be grateful that there have been and are still people whose curiosity is not so easily sated. One of the things I have noticed on my recent visits to Pakistan (which I have yet to blog about I know, I’ll save them for the film), is how easily religion and superstition can be used to stifle thought. Questions are easily dismissed by referring to the Almighty.

I should pack up, nearly home. I can’t wait to see my parents, my sister, my niece and my biological mum. Not often you can say that.

Calm

2007-01-20T19:38:00.000Z

I am the happiest I have been for months. I just thought I'd mention it that's all.

I'll have time to blog soon I hope. A lot of big decisions on the way - just thought I'd warn you guys - you know who you are.

Can't change it back again

2007-01-05T23:37:00.000Z

I've got a feeling that this year is going to be good to me. I've always been too scared to externalise any optimistic thoughts that I may have, but this time I am determined to make the most of the decisions presented to me. Fuck- must I be so passive?

12 December 2006 - a drunken re-read.

2006-12-12T22:44:00.000Z

Flight from Karachi to RYK (or "home" as I occasionally like to refer to it).

“Hey, let’s cross the sea and get some culture. Red wine with every meal, and absinthe after dinner.”

One of the few things I am grateful for is the fact that I regularly visited Pakistan when I was younger. Some people here, mainly those who don’t know me at all rather than those who know me a little, tend to adopt a rather patronising approach to my appreciation of what life is like here. As I sit here on my 50-seater plane heading to RYK typing away on my shiny new laptop, I can sort of understand why. Bizarre glances aside, this laptop really is one of my best friends. Ok – I am going to have to pause for a second as I use my laptop as a table for what looks like a home-cooked in-flight meal. There are things about this place that’s aren’t so bad. I am hoping to find one or two more positives this time around.

I’m back and I think my little silver friend feels a little abused. The food wasn’t quite as good as it looked either.

Anyway, I should probably mention some of the things that have been running through my mind before I started typing.

I have just stayed for a little over 24 hours with my biological aunt. I realise that the relative situation is going to get a little complicated over the next few weeks – there are only a handful of people who matter for the purposes of this indulgent rambling. I’ve stayed at my aunt's for a day or two from time to time, although the last time was well over ten years ago – it’s a little difficult to tell when as I haven’t managed to map all of my visits yet. In any case, my aunt seems lovely. The last time I visited Pakistan earlier in 2006, I was walking towards the biological home with my biological sister, my biological nephew and my biological aunt and my aunt stopped my in the street, stating bluntly that she had heard that I knew that she was my biological aunt. It was one of those moments, of the kind that I am sure will be heading my way over the next few weeks, that I will never forget. She gave me a big hug and told me that she was happy she could finally refer to me as her nephew.

Her four kids are brilliant, and her husband seems like an all round good guy who’s not exactly had the easiest recent past. I could write forever, but in any case I should remember that people are vying for my sympathy. I expect that within a few years I am going to carry quite a bit of weight in family affairs – bring it on I say, a welcome rush to head.

The one thing that made me feel more than a little awkward staying with this family was their humility. On a number of occasions her husband asked for forgiveness if anything he had said had offended or upset me. My aunt gave me some money just before I left. I triet my best to say no but I don’t know the social boundaries well enough to express how unnecessary the gesture was. I even tried to pay for the two taxis that they arranged for me to and from the airport but they were having none of it. Their humility is exacerbated by the fact that they have moved to what they consider to be an undesirable part of town. Having spent most of their family’s fortunes on caring for a close relative who didn't make it, life seems to have been pretty unfair to them, particularly as certain other relatives (in fact very close relatives of mine) have refused to contribute to the financial burden or looking after a dying relative. It’s difficult to remain impartial. So begins my holiday.

As I said, the kids are wonderful – I think it’s the only brown family I have ever come across where the default position is to have a laugh. The kids have had me stitches – even though most of the jokes have been on me and the girl I am being set up with again – people here just don’t take no for an answer. Note to self – avoid marriage. Ironic that I can’t wait to find someone to settle down with when I am back at home. Bollocks, got to figure out where home is.

Once again I’ve done a good job and not writing about anything that I really wanted to.

My biological Dad will be arriving shortly at the airport. I’d love to know what he is thinking. I wonder if he has any regrets – everyone seems to think that I turned out ok. Maybe this time we can have our third and fourth conversations ever. That’d be nice.

A letter to human resources department, you started a war so you’ll get what you started:

I’m only working here because I need your fucking money.

I guess that I am going to spend at least some time every year over here for the rest of my twenties at least. Sorry love, I’d love to travel around South America or have that beach holiday you’ve been talking about so that you can work on your cancer, but I’ve got a few family commitments this year.

I can’t wait to see my nephews and niece. I am glad that they are around, for pretty selfish reasons as well as the fact that they are the sweetest and most gorgeous kids ever. They can provide excuses to avoid any conversation at almost any time.

It’s 22 degrees today where I am landing. Freezing hey? I reckon that it’d be pretty quick getting a tan in summer.

There’s a lot of bitterness and its directed at pretty much everyone, individuals and groups.

Thank God for my laptop – at least I only spent the first few minutes on board this flight in tears.

10 December 2006

2006-12-10T22:35:00.000Z

I've recently arrived back home (wherever that is) from my trip to Pakistan. For anyone who cares, this was my second attempt to get to know my biological parents, people I have thought about for each and every day of my 26 years of existence, and quite frankly people towards whom I have rather confused feelings.

I know that everything I write about my adoption could be written better, and at some point in my life I hope to have time for a rewrite. However, for now I am planning on posting edited excerpts from my day-to-day thoughts during my trip to a country I wish I could leave behind. As I've learned, there are some things that become more painful the more you run away from them.

10 December 2006 was the day I left London, a little less emotional and a little more prepared than the first time. My first stop, my biological aunt's place in Karachi. She's been good to me since the truth came out. I think she's my favourite biological aunt.

A healthy appetite

2006-11-22T19:20:00.000Z

Yesterday lunchtime, I finally had time to have a meal away from my desk, the first time in well over a week (including lunch and dinner at the weekend). I was in a pretty good mood, the matter I was working on had come to an end, the client was pleased, my boss was pleased and I felt like a c lamp had been released from around my head.

I went upstairs to our canteen, confident of bumping into someone along the way or spotting a table that I could crash. After all, there is only one person left at work I feel comforatble suggesting lunch to and he wasn't at his desk.

I like to have a bit of everything from the salad counter, which also gives me enough time to glance over at the tables to find a welcoming face. I glanced at first and then I looked. Nothing.
As I approached the cashier it became obvious that the simplest thing to do would be to take my piece of bread, a splash of balsamic, and head on down to the warmth of my office.

Optimism is for those with a stronger stomach than mine. Lunctime today was much simpler.

Small doses

2006-11-17T22:29:00.000Z

As I listened to Ebroglio I wondered how amazing it would be to go out with someone who's affection I didn't think I was worthy of. Now I realise that superficially seems to suggest that I have quite a high opinion of myself, but that's not really what I meant to suggest. I know and love many people who make me feel unworthy of their affection, in a good way I suppose, and it'd just be pretty damn amazing to go out with someone that I held in the same esteem.

But pedastals can always be toppled, and glueing the pieces back together can never return what you once had.

I've been meaning to blog for a while. I still have a lot to say but at the moment I don't have much time to say it.

I've just worked my longest week since I arrived here, but this time it didn't feel too bad because I was doing something on my own. It feels better to have some control.

Earlier today someone told me I had to be careful not to burn out. I work pretty hard but by no means as hard as many of the people around me. This morning, deprived of sleep for several nights on the row, I allowed myself to listen to one more track at the lounge window (for those of you who don't know it's possibly the greatest window I have ever had). I suddenly felt pretty damn lonely, and all in all things out here on the people front aren't going badly at the moment. The writing is on the wall, and it seems clear that my work is going to be the most important thing in my daily life for the immediate future. There's a part of me that is pretty damn happy with having the job that I do, and the rest of me that is disgusted with the direction my life is taking. After all, anyone given the chances I have been given could have made it here. Value added hey?

It wears me out

2006-11-17T22:22:00.000Z

I had a friend who died
For something he really loved
I had a friend who stood
For none of the above
I had a friend whose experience
Was riddled with scars
Who got drunk one night
In the trunk of louie p.'s car
I had a friend who'd love to scare you
As was his affection
And tremble you did
'cause you weren't worthy of his friendship
I had a friend, but now
He's stranded on the mesa street exit
And sometimes i'm jealous
'cause i'm still at the intersection
I had a friend whose heart was too heavy to hold
Yes there's blood on the median
Like a boat without oars

Duct tape the cross on the brown colored box
Single file line on the unpaved road
They tipped their hats, respect for the dead
In juarez, mexico is where they buried my friend

There are no words to express
The loss i feel since you've been away
You made this typical sad song
A physical classroom
Where i learned nothing
Just flashes of your face

It's all a facade and nothing really matters now
He's stranded somewhere on the mesa street exit
And sometimes i'm jealous waiting at the intersection

I had a friend whose heart was too heavy to hold
Yes there's blood on the median like a boat without oars
It's all a facade, and nothing really matters now

Ebroglio - At the Drive-In

Wasting time, sitting still

2006-11-12T10:51:00.000Z

I wrote this a few weeks ago.... If anyone knows how to backdate entries I'd be grateful if they could let me know. In an older version of blogger it just used to ask you to confirm the date of an entry at the bottom of the edit screen but at some point that option disappeared...

I should start by saying that I’ve been quite positive over the last week or so. There have been a number of reasons for this, but don’t worry, I’ll use non-sentimentalised bullets:

For the first time since my outing, I spoke to all of biological family in one phone call. It felt like all of my Ramadan’s had come in one go. It feels like I am slowly being reintegrated back into the family. Even my biological Dad spoke to me, although I have to admit I find his accent quite difficult to understand. I don’t want to hope too much because I know that hope is a dangerous thing, but I look forward to a day when I can think of myself as having two families. I’ve always secretly felt like I already have two families, but maybe soon my feelings wil be reciprocated. I can now casually mention the fact that I am adopted to people I don’t even know that well, should an appropriate and relevant moment arise. This is what I believe people call progress. A year ago I wasn’t even ready to tell my closest friends;
I’ve decided to return to the UK. Now everyone who knows me knows that this decision was pretty much made quite some time ago. It’s good to be able to vocalise it. I think it may be six months to a year before I return, but return I will. This makes me happy;
I’ve met some new people. I’ve given out my phone number to about six or seven people in the last couple of weeks and I’ve even met up with one of them, a real life girl no less, for a coffee. I’ve been flirting quite a bit recently and it feels good. I’ve set myself the humble aim of going on something resembling a date before the end of the year. I wanted to accomplish this modest feat before reaching 25, but I failed;
I feel like I am in control of my life, to a greater extent than any point at since I left England;
I’ve discovered a lot of good music recently; and
I’ve not been worrying about money recently.

It’s probably with no great surprise that I add that my good mood ended yesterday. Oh well, there’ll be others, of this I am sure.

The remarks do not express correct understanding of Islam

2006-09-26T22:15:00.001+01:00

I have carefully avoided any political discussion on this blog. It seems like plenty of people have plenty to say in the blogosphere on the subject. Which I suppose is only a good thing. I’m not quite as political as I ought to be, but there’s only so much one has time for....

I have been reading quite a few blogs recently. Well, more accurately, I have browsed through a lot of blogs recently. I have to admit I have enjoyed reading a few of them. However, the more I browse, the more I realise that many of them are mono-themed. There are angry blogs, there are adoption blogs, there are being misunderstood blogs, there are religious blogs, there are anti-religious blogs and there are an awful lot of quirky blogs.

Today, I talked about my desperate and somewhat pathetic need to distinguish myself from others. Whether driven by cultural rejection, or a thinly disguised sense of superiority, there is no doubt that my life would be very different today were it not for this tendency to define myself in such a reactionary manner.

I told my last girlfriend that there was a part of me that would be disappointed if I fell whole-heartedly in love with her, married her, had a few children and lived happily ever after. After all, can’t anyone do that? Oh dear, how easily the words flow. She didn’t like that. The irony. I don’t think I have many reinterpretations left.

I’ve mentioned this before but it really irritates me when people can’t understand that truth, and emotions for that matter, are not absolute. It’s not unusual for people to take a phrase uttered, smudge the context and eliminate any interpretations out of line with their emotional mindset.

The more I think about it, and think about it I must, the more I realise that how we interpret things is the key to self-understanding. It’s not quite the ground-breaking epiphany it seemed to be a moment ago, but how we react to interactions says as much about us as it does about the external source of the interaction. A lot of our daily speech is littered with references to other interactions.

I am pretty bored, in case any of you didn’t gather.

Communities have a tendency to externalise blame. I have long bemoaned that family friends and relatives are hasty to blame the infidels, the English, the West…. Just about anyone who isn’t from a poor, Muslim, semi-literate background.

There is a part of me that wants to be liked. There is even a part of me that wants to be popular. It’s not exactly as if I am unpopular – I hate being stuck in the middle.

I remember the first country I lived in after leaving England with a certain fondness, although at times I was lonely. This is largely down to one person who I felt understood me. That’s not to say that there weren’t other people who were incredibly patient and caring, people I am glad to consider as friends, but I can’t help but focus on the one relationship that bridged the divide.

That’s all it would take to make this country home. Well ok, home is a bit ambitious, I haven’t thought of anywhere as home since I left my parents.

Time to stop writing and start living. Well, ok I mean listening to music and dancing on my own. Still it’s a start…. Of sorts.

If only I was good at D.I.Y.

2006-09-09T01:47:00.000+01:00

I promise, well ok, I just hope, that I will have lighter things to blog about soon. Maybe I'll return to ranting about my fictional sex life?

I still remember an English teacher explaining the meaning of the word 'epiphany' to our class. I think I had one this afternoon and I feel much lighter for it.

Although I'd like to dress it up are something more profound (I wonder if that worked?) I think that I basically decided to become more selfish.

All of the major decisions taken by both my adoptive and biological families have been beyond my control. I often complain about the fact that no-one in my family (families?) listens to me. I don't think that they actually don't listen to me, it's just that all of the social accounting has rendered everyone involved rather impotent.

Let's talk about the weather

2006-09-08T15:52:00.000+01:00

It’s always difficult when two people you care about fall out. Common wisdom suggests that it is better to stay out of things, but then it often takes an outsider to point out the glaringly obvious.

It’s even more difficult when the two people concerned are in a relationship or perhaps even married. Communication deficiencies aren’t easily remedied.

Next stop: Pampalona

2006-09-07T00:58:00.000+01:00

This next (academic) year I am going be studying for a post-graduate diploma in my area of legal expertise. I hope to write a dissertation once I obtain my diploma so that I have a full masters. I think this means that I won't have much free time, but that's ok, because that's one thing I have in surplus, after my usual working week.

I wrote a while ago that I wanted to study again, and I suppose although this isn't exactly the subject I had in mind when I wrote that, it's a start to stopping the rot. That said, I've recently admitted to enjoying my job, which although demanding, is actually academically stimulating. You see, I can think positively.

I sometimes fear that I have a self-defeating tendancy to think of everything in life as difficult. I recently read that this can be referred to as 'catastrophising' - a good word. Although I only expose certain traits on this blog I still believe that I manage, most of the time, in maintaining some sense of perspective. Maybe that's bullshit. At times I wonder if any of these supposed difficulties are genuine, or whether I simply fail to adapt to changes and in particular fail to deal with any kind of inter-personal relationships. I am not a people person.

I sincerely hope that my relationships with my adoptive parents, my adoptive sister (for clarification I haven't started thinking of them as my 'adoptive' family), my biological parents, my biological sister and my biological brother grow to become a bit more conventional over the coming months. I now understand that I have to come to terms with each of these relationships before I can meaningfully develop any potential or prospective friendships and/or relationships. I don't know if any of this makes any sense. I am just trying to understand myself in light of everything that is now open to discussion, everything that has been a hallowed secret for most of my life. I hope to find some kind of inner calm once this Dworkinian interpretivism is complete. God knows how long that will take.

Anyway, I should get some sleep, it'd be a shame to end this holiday without at least being well-rested physically. I've said this to a few of you recently, but now that I have one secret less, I can't help but feel like I've lost a part of me. I suppose it'd be stupid of me to mourn this loss when there are more important things to think about.

Osmosis

2006-09-07T00:49:00.000+01:00

I don't listen to the radio much, hell I don't even have a TV. So it was to my surprise the other day as I was waiting in a car park to pick up my sister from the cinema that I heard Popular Workshop on the radio, the drummer being someone I went to university with. The last time I saw Jake was well over a year ago at an Action and Action gig. Anyway, I thought you should know :) .

Terminal

2006-09-05T01:04:00.000+01:00

A while ago I was 'meme-tagged' by Ambrose. I don't usually believe in these chain things either, but as I owe Ambrose a lot for feeding my interest in music over the last couple of years, I thought it was only decent of me to respond. Better late than never... for most things anyway.

List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 6 other people to see what they're listening to.

Here are the seven songs I have enjoyed over the last few weeks, in no particular order of preference:

1. "Never Meant" Amercian Football
2. "Red House" Shudder to Think
3. "I Love Laura" Andy, Glenn & Ritch
4. "Under the Milkyway" The Church
5. "Halleluliah" Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
6. "Kevin Bacon" An Emergency
7. "Morning Theft" Jeff Buckley

I don't know six other bloggers well enough to tag them, so I'm going to ignore that bit. There are quite a few songs by most of the above artists that I have been listening to and enjoying a lot recently, but I decided to list songs by seven different artists. Some of the songs are those that I was enjoying at the time that Am tagged me, and some are more recent discoveries. Anyway, in my humble opinion they are all pretty damn good.

Oh please, you just wouldn't understand

2006-09-04T23:42:00.000+01:00

Like so many people of my brothers, I often feel a profound sense of shared experience with black people. I mean we all have pigment, which gives us like a special bond that the rest of you couldn't possibly understand. And to think that some people take the piss out of me for being too Bounty. Anyway, I stumbled across this site, that I thought some of you may like: Black People Love Us.

If only...

2006-08-29T14:13:00.000+01:00

When I had my best job ever, back when I was 18, I saw the music video to the song below. It took me about four years before I got around to getting hold of it. I’ve just rediscovered it, and it’s actually a better song than I remember. And I just thought it was funny because it had the word penis in it. I was so immature.

I woke up this morning with a bad hangover
And my penis was missing again.
This happens all the time.
It's detachable.

[background singing begins: "detachable penis" over and over]

This comes in handy a lot of the time.
I can leave it home, when I think it's gonna get me in trouble,
or I can rent it out, when I don't need it.
But now and then I go to a party, get drunk,
and the next morning I can't for the life of me
remember what I did with it.
First I looked around my apartment, and I couldn't find it.
So I called up the place where the party was,
they hadn't seen it either.
I asked them to check the medicine cabinet
'cause for some reason I leave it there sometimes
But not this time.
So I told them if it pops up to let me know.
I called a few people who were at the party,
but they were no help either.
I was starting to get desperate.
I really don't like being without my penis for too long.
It makes me feel like less of a man,
and I really hate having to sit down every time I take a leak.
After a few hours of searching the house,
and calling everyone I could think of,
I was starting to get very depressed,
so I went to the Kiev, and ate breakfast.
Then, as I walked down Second Avenue towards St. Mark's Place,
where all those people sell used books and other junk on the street,
I saw my penis lying on a blanket
next to a broken toaster oven.
Some guy was selling it.
I had to buy it off him.
He wanted twenty-two bucks, but I talked him down to seventeen.
I took it home, washed it off,
and put it back on. I was happy again. Complete.
People sometimes tell me I should get it permanently attached,
but I don't know.
Even though sometimes it's a pain in the ass,
I like having a detachable penis.

[background voices continue to sing "detachable penis" for
a while, then out]

King Missile - Detachable Penis

I need a spending spree

2006-08-29T14:07:00.000+01:00

If patience is a virtue, I have a long way to go. We all need to see ourselves as decent, reasonable individuals, and maybe that’s no bad thing. Taking away a few psychological filters doesn’t always leave the prettiest of impressions. But who I am I to draw universal truths from my own existence. There’s a word one doesn’t get to use often enough.

I am rude and childish when I speak to my parents. It’s difficult to break the habit of a lifetime. Maybe I’ve always known I get away with most things. After all, shouldn’t they be grateful that they got the chance to parent me? I really hope that I'm not that manipulative.

I have all the sympathy in the world for what my parents must be going through at the moment. I keep bringing up the one thing that reminds them of their perceived failings. Except surprisingly, I don’t seem have any sympathy for them as 'my' parents. I resent the fact that they didn’t mention anything sooner. If circumstance hadn’t forced me to raise it with them perhaps we all would have been better off letting this one lie. It’s only because I’ve grown up with one foot in a white middle-class utopia that I believe that the truth has any intrinsic value, that talking about things is the only possible way to any kind of peace of mind. I wonder what I would have turned out like… but then I don’t exactly have to wonder too much.

When incidences of relationships are fractured… oh, who gives a shit. My Mum just came in and told me she loved me. Shame about the two hours it took us to get there. A little editing to do methinks.

Is there a right side?

2006-08-28T13:04:00.000+01:00

I left my bed an our ago this morning. I've already been downstairs and had my first argument of the day with my parents.

My parents have a tendancy to over-simplify everything. Their melodramatic reactions to everything I say make any kind of reasoned discussion close to impossible. Then again, I am hardly the most reasonable person when I am speaking to them.

This morning, among other things, they were kind enough to point out that everything that is wrong in my life is inside my head. It was nice of them to tell me something I didn't know.
Of course, in a typically self-pitying Muslim manner, they think it's all their own fault. Their denial of my individuality pisses me off, but sometimes I want to outwardly simply agree with them.

When I find things tough I want to reach out to anyone who may feign understanding. At the moment, all I can think of is how long it's been since I had a good purge of the outer circle.

I feel better now, I think. Maybe in half an hour or so I may even atempt to get some breakfast. Then again, it's much more comfortable here in bed.

Neighbourhood

2006-08-28T02:12:00.000+01:00

I intended to delete the last post before anyone had the chance to read it, but then my last day at work before this holiday was so hectic that I didn’t get around to it. I have only just set up my laptop with internet access here and I suppose it’s a bit late, not to presume that anyone has read it, to erase a post that I thought was quite embarrassing. It’s not too bad. It should stay. I professed not to give a shit about anything put on this blog but that’s not true. I don’t want people who barely know me (as opposed to complete strangers or friends) to think of me as quite as self-indulgent as this makes me come across but there I go again.

It’s been stressful. I have been visibly upset since the moment I walked through the arrivals gate almost in tears. I know going home isn’t supposed to be like this. But then there is no particular way that a family ought to be. All families are dysfunctional to some extent.

It’s taken me years to allow myself to externalise the abnormal facets of my family life. I feel guilty in openly acknowledging that my family stresses me. But surely everyone’s family is the same in this respect? Surely not everyone is as fortunate as I am to have loving parents? I think I know everything is going to be ok on an emotional level, which I suppose puts me into the fortunate category.

However much I know I shouldn’t be, I am a bitter person. I am 26 years old and I am still waiting for the anger to subside into a life of surmountable middle-aged woes.

I am tired. I pretty much broke down talking to my parents this evening. Who am I kidding, I was a mess. I know they love me and that should be enough, but it isn’t and it never has been.

We were invited for dinner this evening at the home of a distant relative. Everything is ostensibly perfect again for our family. I haven’t been invited for dinner by a brown family for years. Everyone is attracted by the glow happiness, however illusory or fragile it may turn out to be.

A few months ago, in the few days we decided to experiment with our incompatibilities, my ex-girlfriend asked me if I was happy. What an idiot. I can’t remember anyone else asking me such a ridiculous question at such an inappropriate time. I’ll take anything. I still think about her and I hate myself for it.

Maybe I’ve come to the end of this blogging journey. I genuinely wanted this to help, but the things I want to write about are just too difficult. My Dad told me that everything would be ok if I just thought of it in simple terms. That’s fine for him, I am his only son. I sometimes wish the relationship was equally reciprocal.

My separate lives are colliding and I really hope I come out of this as a stronger and more importantly, a better person. I need to accept people as they are and realise that nothing is really ever going to be within my control. And apparently, that’s ok.

After every emotional outburst, I have periods of relative calm. I’m in one now. I feel pretty numb and that feels pretty good. Maybe it’s time to get some sleep while I can.

There's no place like home, there's no place like home

2006-08-24T23:09:00.000+01:00

I am going 'home' tomorrow, for the first time in nine months. It's Thursday night and I've had a bit too much to drink. The excuse, the leaving party of three colleagues, the reasons far too obvious to anyone whose sympathy I've tried to milk.

I know I am a few trips away from my identity being stretched and contorted beyond all recognition. Although I've thought about it every day of my life, there is so much thought to be devoted to my recently outed adoption. Every time I think I am making progress I can't help but think 'progress towards what?' There's no happiness at the end of this path, only awkward truths and responsibilities I would rather live without. I can barely live with the responsibility that comes with my own decisions, let alone live the consequences of the choices of others.

This last year has been a lonely one, and for the time being, there's no light at the end of this tunnel. I've been away from England for a year and a half, which means a year and a half away from almost everything I know.

I would like to attribute all of my worst excesses to anything that wasn't my fault. But what if I can't? What if I can't excuse the traits I have recently exposed to the judgment of others? What the fuck - it's only in the last year that I've tried to reinterpret my entire personality. I'm just looking for a escape.

Anyway, I feel much better now, so it's about time I finished off my wine and got myself some sleep. I've been on holiday, I need some rest.

Chocolate Monkey

2006-08-07T21:32:00.000+01:00

Chocolate Monkey
Originally uploaded by Chocolate Monkey.

I don't sleep I dream

2006-08-06T22:57:00.000+01:00

I am not the world’s most sophisticated blogger. I’ve lost my monkey and I don’t know how to get it back.

I can’t play guitar, but I am nevertheless working on a First Song. It’s a bit bland, but I want to staccato it up a little. I don’t think you can force these things so let’s just see what happens. Of course mentioning it here forces me to work at it. So far I have a chorus and an emerging melody to accompany it.

I am feeling comfortable this evening. Tired but comfortable. Comfortable doesn’t happen often. I have just spent a weekend in London which explains it to a large extent. I have that feeling again that something is going to happen. Oh bollocks – there I go again. Hope is a dish best served cold…

I have an incessant personality. I suppose I’ve known this for a while, but as I increasingly expose my inner monologues to those I feel comfortable with, I realise that maybe, just maybe, sometimes people need a break. What started out as an experiment has now even been incorporated into my WYSIWYG/ first impressions back catalogue.

I’ve been studying pretty much all my life and it’s a habit that’s difficult to part with. I can’t help studying people. I have identified a number of first impression markers, indicators of investment potential. I am critically aware of strings I try to pull with people, which is part of the reason I find it difficult to meet new people. It’s difficult to forgive some of the things people choose to throw out there, but I guess I should be more understanding, especially if alcohol is involved.

There will be more on this when I get a moment.

Driving seat

2006-07-31T22:08:00.000+01:00

It’s common knowledge that when we meet people and particularly when we like them, we imitate the way that they speak. I have recently started saying ‘you know?’ with a bizarrely ascending intonation, mainly because a girl I know out here, V, tends to say it all the time in a cute English/ American accent. I told her on Saturday that I’ve started to do it – just to keep things above board. Now that I think of it though, I think watching The Hudsucker Proxy for a second time last weekend may have been tipping point.

Last night, on leaving the cinema with V and another guy, R, we bumped into a couple of V’s friends. After talking awkwardly for a few moments I suggested that we all went for a drink. A bit stupid because I was shattered and had just sat through United 93, a film that didn’t exactly work wonders for my conversational ability.

In the middle of a sentence I lost my words and instead of saying that something was a strange way of doing things, I said that it was a strange ‘model’. My flatmate and her fiancé use the phrase 'business model' in everyday parlance, and it’s a concept that I’ve recently had to considert at work. Six months ago I would never have used the word in such a way. A few minutes later, one of V’s friends (who blatantly fancies her), a guy called L, was talking about something completely different and out of the blue used the word ‘model’ in an equally awkward manner. I couldn’t help but mutter ‘verbal dominoes’ as soon as he had finished his sentence. He looked at me and for a second I thought he might have realised what I was on about. Unfortunately not. Still you’ve got to throw these things out there. Anyway, if you get bored, why not try a game of verbal dominoes with a group of people you barely know. A guaranteed way to make friends.

Anyway, the whole point of the above was really just an excuse to say that V’s friend, L, has a friend called E who I might fancy. I met her on Friday and then again on Sunday after the cinema. So she’s a friend’s friend’s friend, and I may not see her again for weeks if not months. I’m all about seizing the day.

When I first met her I thought that she was L’s girlfriend. It soon became apparent that she was just a colleague. Our three-way conversation was ok during the meal, but I found that I struggled when it was just the two of us. She’s quite shy without L, and a little awkward around people. I wasn’t sure if I fancied her but I think seeing her again on Sunday confirmed that I found her quite attractive. I would like to ask her for a drink but it’s difficult. I don’t want to tread on V’s or L’s toes, and I have found that people are very possessive about acquaintances in this transient city. She caught me staring at her on Sunday, which isn’t ideal, but was trying to work out if I fancied her. I am determined to keep this crush to myself. I reckon I’ll last another few days. I hate that.

Please excuse me but I've got to ask...

2006-07-31T21:52:00.000+01:00

I've just finished reading a book called 'The Tipping Point'. I enjoyed parts of it but I found that some ideas were somewhat stretched. One of the intresting concepts discussed is the contagiousness of emotions:

In their brilliant 1994 book Emotional Contagion, the psychologists Elaine Hatfield and John Cacioppo and the historian Richard Rapson go one step further. Mimicry, they argue, is also one of the means by which we infect each other with our emotions. In other words, if I smile and you see me smile in response – even a microsmile that takes no more than several milliseconds – it’s not just you imitating or empathizing with me. It may also be a way that I can pass on my happiness to you. Emotion is contagious… We normally think of the expressions on our face as the reflection of an inner state… Emotion goes inside-out. Emotional contagion suggests that the opposite is also true… Emotion, in this sense, goes inside out.

It’s all common sense really :) . I also particularly like the notion that situational influences can behave as personality trump cards:

We all want to believe that the key to making an impact on someone lies with the inherent quality of the ideas we present…

Zimbardo’s conclusion was that there are specific situations so powerful that they can overwhelm our inherent predispositions… His point is simply that there are certain times and places and conditions when much of that [genetic disposition and environment] can be swept away…

All of us, when it comes to personality, naturally think in terms of absolutes: that a person is a certain way or is not a certain way. Zimbardo and Harthorne and May are suggesting that this is a mistake, that when we think only in terms of inherent traits and forget the role of situation, we’re deceiving ourselves about the real causes of human behaviour.

The mistake we make in thinking of character as something unified and all-encompassing is very similar to a kind of blind spot in the way that we process information. Psychologists call this tendency the Fundamental Attribution Error (FAE), which is a fancy way of saying that when it comes to interpreting other people’s behaviour, human beings invariably make the mistake of overestimating the importance of fundamental character traits and underestimating the importance of situation and context. We will always reach for a “dispositional” explanation for events, as opposed to a contextual explanation.

On a final note:

We all want to believe that the key to making an impact on someone lies with the inherent quality of the ideas we present…

If only.

The Tipping Point – Malcolm Galdwell

Hook, line and sinker

2006-07-31T21:49:00.000+01:00

It’s difficult when you’ve misjudged a person. Quite often you end up taking it out on the individual rather than realising that you’re actually pissed off with yourself for getting it wrong. Of course I like to think that I am good at judging people, but I don’t really think that I am any better than anyone else.

I talk too much when I meet people. I find it difficult to keep certain things to myself even though I know it is in my best interests to do so. I don’t know what I hope to achieve by inviting people into my confidence. It's something I am working on.

Horse-powered assault

2006-07-27T22:20:00.000+01:00

I met my anonymous friend last night in a town not far from where I live. As well as a lovely evening in a good friend's company, a few other things came out of it as to the direction I should take with my life:

I should stop pretending that living abroad is working out, particularly when everyone else can see that it isn't and even I don't sound confident in convincing people that it is;
There are possibly some academic avenues I haven't yet explored. I need to return to non-examined study some point in my life;
My ability to think clearly and logically about things is dependent upon having enough time to do so. Deny me a minute or two and I sound like a mumbling fool; and
I need to develop the ability to be more self-sufficient in my opinions and attitudes.

That should keep me busy for the next year or so.

On the train on the way back, unfortunately not sitting near anyone attractive as hoped for, I had some more thoughts. Part of not caring, or aspiring to not to care about, what other people think is to know that to subject oneself to one's own moral judgment is more important and most probably a more severe form of accountability than to subject oneself to the codes of others.

There's one to sleep on.

Catalyst

2006-07-23T19:36:00.000+01:00

I feel like there isn’t much to say at the moment. I can’t really think of anything to blog about and it’s been a while since I’ve had felt the need to talk at length about anything in particular.

I’ve written a lot of odd bits and pieces with a view to writing complete posts but I keep running out of steam. I’m not even sure if this one will make it.

I am still stuck here with strangers and mere acquaintances. It’s tough for an intimacy junkie when most days here are spent sheltering others from the worst excesses of my personality. I’ve been thinking a lot about something said to me:

Unconditional love is the denial of personality.

I talk a lot with friends about stuff that I guess most people find quite boring. When I was in the country before this one, there was the genuine feeling on my part that the people I spent time with understood me. My ramblings and monologues were received patiently, and if necessary dismissed with an appropriate conversational sidestep. It’s not quite the same out here. I keep trying to talk about things I find interesting but I can’t help but feel that everyone thinks I am trying to convey a certain fraudulent self-image.

I have a interest in things that are considered pretty geeky (for the record, I hardly ever talk about politics). I happen to get drunk one or twice a week but I don’t understand why being out on the best night of my life should preclude me from talking about things that fascinate me. That’s not to say that every dance-floor I grace gets me want to have a deep and meaningful (D and M, so I’m told), I am normally too busy trying to look at attractive women and make sure that they don’t catch me looking at them to care. But, being tipsy doesn’t stop me wanting to communicate on a meaningful level with the people I am out with or god forbid, the people I meet.

I’ve had this conversation a few times with my anonymous friend, but I don’t feel academic enough to put myself in the same circle as a couple of my friends, but I don’t seem to quite fit in with the carefree exuberance of other friends. Sometimes I wish that overpaying for good food and good wine gave me the satisfaction that it seems to bring everyone around me.

To live is to immerse oneself in the significance of every interaction and every moment. For me, feeling alive is to momentarily grasp the flimsiness of my good fortune.

I worry sometimes that I am greedily munching through the life given to me, and that at some point I will have consumed my fair share.

I’ve lived a fortunate life and have been given opportunities that were never envisaged for me. I think I’ve made the most of my stolen life, but where do I go from here?

My only conventional aim in life to date has been to reach my academic potential. I did that 4 years and a month ago. For all of my false modesty, I have to concede that it means the world to me. I hate myself for admitting as much, and even more for feeling so, but part of the reason is that it is so easily communicable as something universally (and for me inherently) worthy. No-one will ever give a shit about the choices that we make on a day-to-day basis, about our intimate failings or our pathetic moral victories. We all need a currency to trade in.

There’s only so long one can rest on one’s laurels.

An anonymous friend

Mutually exclusive

2006-07-13T21:40:00.000+01:00

I just had a look at an old draft version of my CV and I remember putting a line in it based on a phone call with an anonymous friend:

I just did everything to the best of someone else's ability.

I think I've posted this before, but reading it again just reminded me of exactly how true it was. I don't mean to write it again as a self-depracating but ultimately needy utterance, but rather just because I was thinking that if you surround yourself by certain people, they can lift you to being more than the sum of your parts.

Relationships (and possibly women in general) bring out the worst in me. In contrast, my friends always make me want to become a better person. Yes all of my close friends are male, and maybe that in itself has nothing to do with anything (hence the brackets and qualification).

Every time I let myself down, my friends remind me not to be too harsh on myself. Every time I am tempted to behave out of character, they remind me that I only really have to be myself.

I was having some thoughts the other day about what it acually means to be true to yourself. Adjectives such as 'authentic' and 'genuine' have become as universally desirable as 'generous' or 'kind', conspicuous badges that we all wear in this catwalk of shallow interaction.

Maybe we should all act as we would in a social vacuum. Maybe we should all challenge our conscious motives. Or maybe we should just get on with living. After all, although contemplation and living can be parallel states of mind, at any given scintilla of time, one is inevitably on the ascendance, the other in decline.

Keep the change

2006-06-10T21:32:00.000+01:00

I’m bloody awful at meeting new people. Even when I am going ok it’s just painful. Selective disclosures make me feel cheap and fake. Rants about things I care about just seem to be rehearsed monologues advertising intelligence. Interesting things can be interpreted as proverbial name-dropping exercises. It’s all wrong.

I keep even the people I like at a safe distance. Although at first I used to deny the label of ‘friend’ to anything but my closest friends, I now have to bandy it about to at least encompass the people I like in the city in which I happen to be living. The colloquial usage seems empty, but alas, we have to display our alliances in order to go forth and conquer.

Am I so insecure in my belief system that I need constant extraneous validation?

I tried to explain to someone I met for the third time only, that I found obsession with designer clothes (and the underlying status-obsession it hides) to be one of the saddest things about society. I mean, who the fuck am I to bore someone with this shit. But what pains me is the fact that I have to talk about these things at all. Within my circle of friends these things are a given, they don’t need to be discussed. We don’t have to endure people’s rather desperate attempts to justify their fondness for ‘nice things’, a word in fact used during the course of this conversation, pouring salt into by haemophilic wounds.

I’ve got so many boxes to tick you may as well not bother. I wouldn’t even bother with myself.

I like some people I have met out here- damn it I even fancy some of them (as if that means anything?). I just don’t want to get to know them. I am happy simply to have some company. I really miss intelligent conversations and I realise I sound like a twat for even thinking that let alone posting it in a public domain. I really miss being able to discuss things that matter and interpret things in a way that is at least a little more insightful that the Catchphrase approach to life that is so prevalent amongst the gratuitously successful people I spend most my time with.

And I suppose that's a sad thing. I have company should I want it. But I know enough to know that it's pretty pointless. Is this beggar too proud for his own good?

Give me a stack of your best bibles

2006-05-26T21:10:00.001+01:00

After I went out for a drink at 12.45am on a bank holiday Thursday, I ended up in a pretty heated debate with this girl, O, out here.

Now it's difficult- I like O. In fact, although I may have forgotten my original system, she's been mentioned on this blog before. In any case, she is pretty damn argumentative. She admits as much. She likes starting arguments. The thing is I think most people she hangs around with might tend to let her have her say and just leave her to it. Oh no, not me.

I have to admit I played devil's advocate. I didn't find anything she said per se objectionable. I just thought she had no reasons, not that I considered valid. I also accused her of being out of her element.

I told her, and the guy I was with, that the personal example is a pathetic form of argument. It was a bit harsh as most of her arguments were born of the fact that she is half-European and half British (not English). This of course opens up... well I'll leave that.

It never ceases to amaze me how people persist in emphasising the humility of their origins. There can only be so many rich kids who grew up in the slums and still ended up the way they were hey? No-one is ever more than two generations from desperate poverty. We're such success stories.

I came out with some pretty extreme statements about how I felt about people. Should one have the inclination, I don't particularly come off well. Not that I said anything I don't believe to be true, it's just that it should be interpreted in light of many of the other views I hold. If only we always had that luxury.

Anyway, time for a warm-up dance before I head on out.

I really like you. I like you too.

2006-05-25T23:57:00.000+01:00

I’ve decided that I want to become more positive over the next year. As I was sat with a friend and his girlfriend watching TV a few weeks ago I actually heard myself speaking and realised just how I sounded. Why does anyone listen?

I am trying really hard at the moment. But there’s a black hole of negativity inside of me. However much I try to escape it, every thought I have sooner or later gravitates towards it. It’s just so fucking difficult. My mind is broken. My thoughts get lost in an endless loop and I can’t turn them off. I keep thinking about things over and over, knowing full well that there’s no plausible interpretation left.

Believe it or not I am in a good mood and generally have been since I returned home after London. In fact, someone even asked me the other day why I was smiling so much. Me- can you imagine?!

Excessive punctuation brings me down. As do needless uses of the upper case. I was a big fan when I was younger and I suppose the change has been gradual.

I bought a belt the other day. I decided at about 16 that I didn’t do belts so it was a big decision. I felt like I had betrayed myself. Really, does anyone else find buying a €7.50 belt that difficult? I suppose it was a bargain so I should be grateful.

Maybe next I’ll start wearing shirts again, you know, like casually. I even though about a shirt I used to wear to the office that may make a good pioneer casual shirt.

I can’t stop.

I want to do a lot of things soon. Big things. I want to buy a flat with MM. I want to live in the country I was born in. I want to enjoy my work. I want want want.

I really can’t express just how difficult it is to keep my mind on track. I’ve tried stream of consciousness writing but I know where it ends. I have started to bore myself. That’s unusual.

I like certain words that I use a lot. Verbs I like include:

gravitate; and
oscillate.

Nouns include:

consciousness;
morality; and
interpretation.

I've just realised that all three above are abstract. I like abstract thought and it would be nice to go out with someone who enjoys it too. I've never had that. The most I've had is an audience. All presentations are more rewarding if they are interactive- so I am told.

There's a lot of betrayal going on at the moment. I've made a decision to let myself slip a little. It'll be better in the long-run I tell myself. Maybe I'm just not as strong as I thought I was. Maybe I just don't care as much. The frustration is relentless and I am never going to get my way.

There are some mistakes for which you can’t blame anyone else.

I’m making all of the rest of my major decisions by committee. Abdication- there’s another good word.

Things are going to happen this year. This year is going to be a good year. Seriously. There may even be some funny posts coming your way soon. I'm big on humour.

Déjà vu

2006-05-25T23:35:00.000+01:00

The night has fallen down the staircase
And I, for one, have felt its bruises
Equilbrium; inebriated
Our social graces have been displaced

As we sink deeper into the drink
The volume increases....
Night time resurrects fault lines
Silent wars -- rumble somewhere below
The surfaces verses...
The surfaces verses...
The shoe is dropped, lungs explode
Shards of words of a shattered voice
And there's still a hole where the phone was thrown

Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah...
Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah...

The moon is rising, a revolution
I close my eyes and the room is spinning
You're screaming:

"Sweetie, the moon has raped me --
It has left its seeds like a tomb inside me
So I must learn to abort these feelings
This romance is bleeding..."

Night time triggers the land mines
Bedroom wounds -- lovers like brigadiers
Marching two by two...
Marching two by two...
A soldier's down
Flood gates burst
I've said some things I wish you'd never heard
Like, "There's still a hole where the phone was thrown."
It's growing as we speak
And it's sucking us both in
A vacuum of sorrow to swallow up the day

The Casualty- Domestica, Cursive

The good that won't come out

2006-05-24T23:23:00.000+01:00

Whenever I can't sleep (insomnia if you will, hehe), it's in part because I can't stop thinking about things. I always want to get up and write them down but nearly always I decide that the risk of further delaying sleep is always too great. It'd be fine if I was a student again, but working in a high-pressure job means that sleep is pretty valuable.

I've never really let myself say it out loud or put it in writing before, but I have a "high-pressure" job- you know the work hard, play hard kind. Even the last sentence makes me cringe. I don't want to be the kind of person who does that kind of shit, but I should be comfortable enough, especially here, to realise that I am who I am and no one sentence need condemn me.

Which I suppose makes me realise just how judgmental I am. It was a conversation with a friend a few years ago that helped me to appreciate that there's nothing wrong with being judgmental- of course I don't mean in the biblical sense. Last time I checked I wasn't omnipotent so let's face it what I think doesn't really matter. I have decent carve-outs for exceptional cases and am always willing to appreciate individuality, something that I hope is apparent. I am aware that my sterotypes are just that- they are shorthands for describing attributes in people that I don't like, but don't necessarily influence how I feel and act when I meet actual, real individuals.

I love people, I just find it difficult to like them sometimes.

It's one thing to learn the rules of a game and quite another to be a willing player. The better you learn them doesn't necessarily mean that you all the more enthusiatic a player.

I am good at studying, learning and imitating. I am not so good at original thought. This is something that bothers me, partly because it's something typical of my background. I can always take something and make it better, but to create something out of nothing is always going to be beyond me.

I guess New Year's resolutions don't mean that much to me. I am keener on setting myself goals for each year of my life. Because that makes more sense. For the record, I don't like the word "keen" for all of its derogatory connotations.

Don't fool yourself, into thinking that you're more than you are.

Well, it's nearly 1 am and I think I am going to pop out for a few drinks. Bank holiday tomorrow don't you know.

Sleep well.

Snow Falling On Cedars, David Gutterson
With Arms Outstretched, Rilo Kiley

Spiders

2006-05-09T13:22:00.000+01:00

L*ve is not the same as liking a lot. If you meander along the spectrum of 'liking' you'll find that even if you want to position love and hate at the extremes you'll have to draw a line or at least use a different colour just before you get there at each end.

Even better, start a new diagram. The line between l*ve and hate is a thin one and isn't separated by a gulf of graded liking. At the very top, in the very middle is where you can find this line. I think it's a dotted one.

If only I could keep my mouth shut...

2006-04-28T15:15:00.000+01:00

I have been thinking a lot recently about the power of interpretation and reinterpretation. I suppose I realised this when I went to see the debut/ premiere of a short film called "The Stronger" with Ben about a week ago. Catch it if you can.

There are several factors that influence the direction that interpretations and reinterpretations will head in and I have been trying to identify them. I think that three important factors, inter alia, are as follows:

i) affection;
ii) trust;
iii) connectivity; and
iv) investment.

I was going to discuss each in turn but to be honest I don't have the patience to and in any case, I only thought of two of them as I was writing this and I am not confident enough that they will stand up to closer scrutiny. This will be one of the entries that I intend to update but will inevitably neglect to refer to ever again. I wish putting thoughts down in writing wasn't so permanent.

I recently got sort of involved with my ex-girlfriend again, which obviously raises a lot of issues. I've not been sleeping well and I have been rather pre-occupied with other matters, so I don't think I've really assigned the last two weeks or so since I met her (after 13 months and 9 days) the significance that they would have have deserved, had a few things been otherwise.

The sun is out, I am finished training for the day and I think it's best if I leave the office and try and have a good Friday. I am going to try not to drink to much, because all drunken paths lead to the same well-trodden paths.

Who knows what the evening will bring?

There's a wolf at the door

2006-04-13T17:32:00.000+01:00

So many of the things that I consider important in my life have been/ still are out of my control.

For everything I espouse about individualism, watching things happen around me and realising my own impotence is immensely unsettling. Dissonance reigns and confidence takes a blow.

I wish I could be more like Arther Dent.

You're going to love Weightwatchers

2006-04-11T01:05:00.000+01:00

There was a time when I would think a lot before I posted on here. I would check for grammar and typos and I would think about how I would feel if I read each post on someone else's blog.

That time has passed and I notice that my posts are littered with typos and poor sentence construction.

I am pretty fed up with most things in my life right at this moment. That said, I am pretty fed up with being fed up and I would like to declare that I had had enough of being fed up and just move on to some other default position but unfortunately it's not that easy. So, I have decided that I am going to try to write something positive...

I am going to need a moment or two here. The only thing I can think of right now is that I am enjoying watching Scrubs. It's hilarious, making fantastic use of the internal monologue, although I think it suffers a little from the pretty mainstream trend of "quirky" as cool.
Still, if you're fed up, I recommend watching a series or two.

That's all folks.

Whatever you need to make you feel, like you've been the one behind the wheel...

2006-04-04T23:12:00.000+01:00

There's something liberating about anonymity.

For a while I have been saying that one of the things I like most about London is the anonymity. I suppose that this is also one of the things I like about blogging.

Today was good day in training as a few of us didn't take part in the main training and instead attended a course in our specialist area. What I do for a living is genuinely interesting, if mentally and physically exhausting, and for this I am grateful.

This morning I woke up at the end of a dream when someone I was falling for finally kissed me. It reminded me of how perfect things can be in dreams.

I've written before about how we all want to determine the standards by which we are judged by others, although at the same time we persist in judging others by our own standards.

Irecently came across the following illustrative list of "virtues":

benevolence;
civility;
compassion;
conscientiousness;
cooperativeness;
courage;
courteousness;
dependability;
fairness;
friendliness;
generosity;
honesty;
industriousness;
justice;
loyalty;
moderation;
reasonableness;
self-confidence;
self-control;
self-discipline;
self-reliance;
tactfulness;
thoughtfulness; and
tolerance.

In an age and world dominated by assessment and self-assessment I wonder how I'd fare.

I find it difficult to focus on the positive. Arguably all pessimists are scared optimists.

A reasonable interpretation of the demands of generosity might, therefore, be something like this: we should be as generous with our resources as is consistent with conducting our ordinary lives in a minimally satisfying way. Even this, though, will leave us with some awkward questions. Some people's "ordinary lives" are quite extravagant... The virtue of generosity, it would seem, cannot exist in the context of a life that is too sumptuous, especially when there are others about whose basic needs are unmet. To make this "reasonable" interpretation of the demands of generosity, we need a conception of ordinary life that is itself not too extravagent.

I know that when I was yournger I wanted to take Route 1 to happiness. Maybe it's only because I knew that I would be so obviously overtaken that I now find myself writing self-indulgent rants like this, justified by some poorly disguised notion of self-exploration.

If we all advertise within our budgets and our social and moral strategies pick themselves, then can any of us claim to be 'better' human beings? Aren't we al just playing the strongest hands that nature and nuture have dealt us?

And that's one of my problems- all roads lead to the same dead-end.

The Elements of Moral Philosophy - James Rachels

[To insert when something adequately insightful comes to mind]

2006-04-03T17:54:00.000+01:00

I am feeling a bit more with it today, although I am stil shattered. I was lucky enough to have a bit of a reprieve as the ex didn't take part in training today, I suspect that she wil only be attending on the days that she missed last time in October. I have separate specialist training tomorrow which means that I won't see her before Wednesday at the earliest.

I kept having interesting thoughts throughout the interactive training on things not necessariy related to what I do. I made notes so I could wirte about them but unfortunately I've left them at work. I was going to try to remember but Ben has just arrived so I'll try to write about them later if I get the chance.

We finished early and I have another hour before some social bonding over a needlessly exepensive meal at a restaurant not to far away from here.

Speak soon. x

Something like watch this space, things are going to happen, it'll all make sense soon, I thought I saw a light, no it was probably just my eyes

2006-04-03T00:10:00.000+01:00

I lied. To anyone interested I have absolutely no free emotional capacity whatsoever at the moment.

I am back from Pakistan. For reasons that may soon become apparent through this blog for anyone who cares, I have just suffered the most emotionally draining month of my life. It has nothing to do with sexual relationships, a minor detail for which I am grateful.

I've just re-read a few posts and I realise that I don't exactly come across as the most positive of people. I would just like to say, for the record, that I occasionally have F.U.N. However, this won't be tomorrow (actually today), when I go to the London office for the first day of six weeks of training. To my surprise and emotional detriment, I have just found out that my ex-girlfriend, the last one, will be attending the course. The sole original reason for postponing my course from last year was to avoid this. I suppose I have had more time to get over it but I am not in a state to deal with this right now.

I have had 3 and 4 hours sleep in the last couple of nights and I have a few other things on my mind.

I am reaching new levels of freindship with a number of people and this makes me incredibly happy- I only wish that the catalyst was something not so demanding.

I kept a diary of sorts from my month away and I am planning on posting selectively from it over the next few weeks. I wish I didn't feel I had to edit any of it but unfortunately there is a lot about myself I don't want to be in the public domain. Self-censorship may well be against the spirit of the blog but self-preservation is more important.

I've had enough of writing in riddles and I think it best that I get a good nights sleep before I face her. I've had our first conversation in my head hundreds of times. That's not even an exaggeration. It's been 13 months to the day that I last set eyes on her in her white hotel dressing gown. 13 months since I replied to her "I love you" with "I love you too... whatever happens". A hundred isn't even once a day.

I love my friends and I think that's a good note to end this on.

There is so much to do, and such little time to do it in.

Kamikaze diplomacy

2006-02-24T09:30:00.000Z

There's someone in the workplace who I have had difficulty getting along with since I started work here back in September. Fortunately, things are going well at the moment and I finally seem to have convinced her that I am ok.

Our every conversation used to be clouded by an presumption of incompetence. This seems to have been replaced by a genuine air of appreciation, although I strongly suspect that someone has said something to her.

Nevertheless, it has made a massive difference to my working environment, and for this I am grateful.

We've all become what we most disliked in this picket fence cartel

2006-02-24T09:28:00.000Z

I wrote this entry last year but never got around to posting it. For some reason I can't seem to edit posts to back-date them so here it is...

Sparked by something a friend said, I am beginning to worry about myself. The conversations in my mind are beginning to replace the conversations I have with other people. I feel like I am turning myself inside out. I've been up since 6 and I have already lived an entire day out in my imagination. All of my conversations tend to revolve around making myself Understood. I want everything I say to be interpreted in the light of who I am. I suppose I am resisting the epiphany that only I am capable of understanding myself. The relationships in my mind long ago replaced anyone I could touch or taste. All I can say is that they are going better than ever before and the reality is something on balance I am not too reluctant to sacrifice.

I have an anonymous visitor arriving later today which is a welcome relief- atleast for a few days I will be able to have some 'connectivity'.

School night

2006-02-21T13:52:00.000Z

There's a girl I fancy a bit out here who I think may fancy me too. Sh'e invited me around for dinner tonight and I have said yes. This is going to be weird. It's almost like a date- almost.

Champion

2006-02-21T08:54:00.000Z

There's much more to be said about the role of competition in a globalised economy, but I think maybe I'll wait a few years before I give it a shot. In the meantime, I thought this article was pretty interesting.

http://business.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,8210-2049685,00.html

I remember someone more knowledgable than myself saying that people get the government they deserve. I haven't thought this through but.... actually let me stop myself. Another day.

Back to work and ultimately protecting the consumer. A beacon I tell you.

Exam nerves

2006-02-13T08:56:00.000Z

I've not mentioned it much here but I am pretty damn nervous about my trip to Pakistan.

I think it will be impossible to communicate anything other than niceties and I know that it will compound my alienation. I've tried not to become the kind of person who would ever become embarrassed about his "roots for want of a better term and I don't think I am. That said, I feel like I have very little in common with everyone in the town I was born in. It's the distance that concerns me, although I confess I am scared that I will have a tendancy to treat the people I care about with an attitude of "you wouldn't understand".

Still- it's going to be interesting.

The time we are given

2006-02-12T19:50:00.000Z

Ben left an hour or so ago and I am back at the flat, a glass of rosé in my hand, waiting for the inevitable lonliness to creep up and envelop me.

I think sometimes it may be healthy to allow people to disappoint you. As my mother always says, you can’t live without people. My mum is a lot wiser than I give her credit for.

I have behaved and continue to behave in a very condescending manner towards my parents. They’ve lived through a lot and although their experiences may not be as diverse as mine, they have many more years experience of dealing with people.

One of my father’s best friends is now pretty much in a vegetative state due to Alzheimer’s, but I remember that he always used to remind me never to become big-headed. Maybe I miss his frequent reminders, because somewhere along the way I decided that I had left my parents behind. I find it difficult to talk about things that really matter to me with them and when I try it is difficult to communicate when we no longer share the same first language. I know I make my parents feel stupid and on occasion I even suggest that a lot of what they say is ill-though out and reflects their lack of education.

But I need to remember that if it wasn’t for my Dad’s emphasis on education, I wouldn’t be where I am today- which if I remember rightly is on the border between middle-class disillusionment and adolescent alienation.

I have a lot to deal with before May 18 if my personal aims for the 26^th year of my life are to be fulfilled. I am making good progress but I find myself on the verge of tears at least once a day when I think about how far I have to go.

Why is everything so difficult? Sometimes I am amazed when I manage to get through another week.

There is an adaptation of Camus’s “La Chute” on at the theatre soon. I have just checked and unfortunately it pretty much coincides with the time that I will be away. Still, I want to ask a girl to go with me, because I will still be here for the opening night. I don’t know which girl yet but I want to ask some girl. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about women.

Well ok just a little bit. I can’t help but feel like a failure when it comes to women. I am beginning to understand why, but understanding is hardly a remedy in itself.

Drink

2006-02-12T19:44:00.000Z

If life is a metaphor for the world’s largest onion, which I assure you it is, part of the point of this blog was to peel away a good layer or two from time to time. Just because I haven’t been writing on the blog much recently doesn’t mean that I’m still not wearing the apron. It’s been one of those days ok.

Today, once I stopped feeling hung over, has been one of those days where I felt like celebrating. For all the anguish it brings, it’s nice to occasionally feel like being alive is F.U.N.

In a world of NIMBY liberalism and Jackie Chan shoes, there's room for everyone.

You don't know how deep the water is until you've jumped in.

I never thought I would quote my Dad on this blog, but then I underestimated how articulate he can be. Maybe that’s where I…. no maybe not!

Blog, blog, blog. I feel like I’m in a self-referential post-Pulp Fiction mainstream alternative movie script. I’m not even American, but film didn’t do the trick.

I often imagine, amongst other things, that life is being filmed. Fuck it- who am I kidding- I imagine my life is being filmed. It’s no secret that my world begins and ends in my head.

When I am back in London, I am going to have lunch with my first ex-girlfriend. I don’t know why but it seems appropriate because after 4 years on I have finally forgiven her. I have nothing in common with her and don’t fancy her at all anymore so this is a safe option. I can feel like a better person at very little cost to my emotional health. This is what I like to call an “emotional bargain”. Everyone knows I love a bargain.

Communication is about words- in part. Creativity is rewarding.

People are very bad at appreciating that truth can be found in a plethora of explanations. There isn’t really an isolated answer to anything meaningful and everything can be questioned. I don’t plan to reach that stage of deconstruction for some time yet.

I’ve written before about language and just how much we can convey through our choice of words. Never use a long word when a short one will do, as a man much wiser and more famous than myself once said. Appeals to authority always do the trick, but people generally pay scant regard to areas of expertise.

Sleep deprivation works wonders for the mind. I went to sleep at 6am on Saturday morning and 7.30 am on Sunday morning. If I could do it all again I would, but maybe skip out a few drinks towards the end. I’ve been tired and I should get some sleep.

Very soon I am going to have a lot of free emotional capacity. Come on, I know you’re out there and I’m getting bored waiting. And I have an exercise bike.

I love chocolate

2006-02-07T13:05:00.000Z

I've done the most stupid things I've ever done when I've had low blood sugar

Ambrose

Casuistry

2006-02-06T09:56:00.000Z

The science, art, or reasoning of the casuist; that part of Ethics which resolves cases of conscience, applying the general rules of religion and morality to particular instances in which 'circumstances alter cases', or in which there appears to be a conflict of duties. Often (and perhaps originally) applied to a quibbling or evasive way of dealing with difficult cases of duty; sophistry.

And a Happy New Year

2006-01-04T22:31:00.000Z

It's been a while, and I lost the entry I was writing to do with my new year's resolutions. Oh well. Here is what's going on in my life so far this year:

some American girl bought me a drink and chatted to me for a little while a few hours into the new year.- that's one resolution I should probably mention: talk to more girls I don't know that I could fancy;
I woke up next to someone I shouldn't have woken up next to on 1 January. Don't worry, it wasn't the ex because I am back in Europe but I suppose she had something to do with it as it was two years ago that we got together- felt shit and succumbed to a little F.U.N.- nothing serious mind you- I am going to make it past the year mark if it kills me (that's right- my choice, turning corners etc...);
I was in a bar on the evening of 1 January and in the middle of a conversation with a friend's girlfriend I exclaimed that any fan of Nick Cave's was a friend of mine. To my surprise, the quite cute waitress that I had had a brief mental fling with during the evening joined the conversation and told me that she was a Nick Cave fan too. "I suppose that makes us friends then?" she asked me. "I suppose so" was all I could muster, together with a massive grin and the feeling that I should say something about meeting up with her. I resisted all calls for me to go back to the bar and ask her out as I knew that the satisfaction I could get from her little interlude would far outweigh the inevitable disappointment should she not want to join me for a drink, or the paralysing awkwardness if she did agree to join me for a drink. Ego satisfied, I went home a happy man knowing that I was getting better at (sort of) talking to girls I didn't know;
Work is difficult but manageable;
my current flatmate was supposed to move out at the end of last year. He hasn't. He ignored my attempts to get in touch so I had no choice but to call his Dad. He has now emailed telling me that he will be out by Saturday. Fingers crossed;
I have a new flatmate who moves in on Sunday- a German girl who I met on Monday night. She seems nice and hopefully it'll work out better than the last one;
I feel shit about my lack of self-control as mentioned above, but I am reliably told that it's not a big deal;
Ben is coming to visit in a few weeks, another friend is coming to visit a few weeks after that and another friend is coming to visit the second time since I got here the week after. All is all that makes me a very happy monkey; and
in case you hadn't guessed, I now have internet access at home. I guess that means you'll hafve to read a lot more of this crap!

I have to get up early tomorrow to go to the town hall for registration. Living in this city is a Kafkaesque nightmare.

Yeh you got a piece of me, but it's just a little piece

2005-12-30T03:03:00.000Z

I think I have written before about the use of the gift as a social tool to create reciprocal obligation. Today I visited a friend of my Mum's, who stuck by the family when many others deserted my parents when my sister ran away from home a couple of years ago. For this I am very grateful, as it wasn't exactly easy being supportive from a few hundred miles away. This person has always socially advertised an illusory closeness with me, a closeness which stems from my friendship with her daughter when we were kids, later founded (quite explicitly) on the fact that I am this supposed perfect brown success story. I really enjoy meeting her and it is nice to have some jovial brown company- I was not exactly blessed with an abundance of this when I was growing up.

It's a vulgar part of brown culture that social accounting is very explicit and as such, is the source of a lot of friction between families. How much one family gives to another family's children on a religious festival or other joyous occasion forms the basis of many calculated interactions. My parents can't stand it and it is hardly surprising that I am not so keen either (I think my sister just agrees with the last person she spoke to on this).

I don't want to go into too much detail but basically as I was leaving, in fact getting into the car, this friend handed me some cash for no apparent reason. She wouldn't have done it if I was with my parents but as I went to see her on my own (for the first time ever), I was slightly bemused and a bit insulted by the gesture. I tried to give her the money back but I could see that it was going to end in tears if I insisted beyond politeness, so I still have the money. I don't know how or when I am going to tell my Mum about this because I know she'll be annoyed with me, knowing full well that she has to now find the occasion/ occasions to give back to this person's kids/ grandkid roughly the same amount that I received.

It's all a bit pointless. I said to her that her affection was enough but she didn't seem to like that.

This friend is also flying out to Pakistan for my sister's wedding in March. Not one of our relatives from England is going. We are not supposed to tell my parents as this is a SURPRISE. One that will sure as hell shock my Mum. We aren't exactly from the big smoke and it'll be difficult to accomodate someone who is used to 5 star hotels and expensive meals. My Mum has more than enough to worry about on this visit (more to follow over the next six months) than entertaining/ repaying someone's generosity/ affection. Of course my sister is oblivious to all of this and has already stated, in tears, that this is a wonderful gesture and means the world to her.

One thing I hate about the culture (please note how I refuse to call it my culture) I grew up in is that everything has a price. Every fucking sin you commit costs you more than it ought to, every fucking family Mercedes buys you a better future for your genes.

This evening my cousin came around with her husband and all they talked about was the fact that their son is a doctor. Who gives a flying fuck? He's not exactly in it for noble reasons. It was pretty hilarious listening to the stories- one woman had told them that her son had a Phd which trumped being a GP, and another woman had said that she had three children who were GPs.

Material wealth and job status are the prime indicators of social success in most contemporary societies. Oh, and I suppose successful marriage/ procreation.

Brown society is like the workplace- it's difficult to build genuine relationships when people's motives are to build a network of alliances that will ultimately serve them and their gene pools well. Behind the facade of affection, socially conditioned brains are busy calculating away.

There's nothing unnatural or controversial about all of this- we are after all social animals. The only thing I can't stand is when this is done in the name of purportedly genuine relationships.

These people aren't you're friends, they'd pay to kiss your feet.

I've used that one before- doesn't that just summarise me nicely.

There's a song in there somewhere...

2005-12-28T03:23:00.000Z

Today I had a succesful day. Here are some highlights:

I bought some more white shirts for work- this means I now have 8 white shirts, up from 4 a few weeks ago. This is progress and means that finally this guy at work will stop going on about the fact I only have four white shirts (which incidentally makes it difficult to get through a busy week even with my 32 minute wash cycle). He will, I anticipate, still find it hilarious that I only wear white shirts. It just makes life so much easier;
I bought some shoes for work- thay are almost identical to the shoes I wear at the moment so the switch, when it needs to be made (in a afew months yet) will be seamless;
my cousin's daughter showed us all her own website- amazingly, as I have never really spoken to her, I am mentioned on her favourite cousin's page;
another kid relative (can't be arsed describing how he is related to me) was super happy to see me this evening which may have something to do with the fact that I took him and some other kids bowling on Saturday (little do they know that I did it to a) practice my bowling and b) avoid talking to my sister);
I did some exercise this afternoon;
I managed to speak to my sister over dinner about stuff that mattered, for approximately three sentences- it's a start;
I bought Nocturama by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds- I don't quite understand why I don't already have a copy;
I bought a recent David Bowie album; and
I bought a Faith No More compilation.

I still haven't found a flatmate and everyone who has so far shown interest has decided that the room is too expensive. I am still optimistic that it'll work out. I received a strange email from a girl telling me that she is a model and really interested in the room. I thought it may even be legitimate until I got to the point when she starting describing herself as cute and hilarious- I hate almost genuine spam!

It's 3.35 am. I should get some sleep.

Over and out.

With open arms

2005-12-28T03:17:00.000Z

There are two things, amongst others, that I want to focus on over the next year of my life:

to avoid living in the past; and
to stop living in the future.

So, to narrow it down, I want to return to living in the present. Do you ever feel that sometimes you are running around in circles?

More calibre per capita

2005-12-27T01:58:00.001Z

I have been home for a few days and it feels good to have hit a lower mental gear.

For anyone that doesn’t know, I really don’t like time. I don’t want to think about it too much because I know I have been reading a lot about the nature of time recently and it doesn’t need to be any more complicated than that- I just don’t like time (please note that I have refrained from saying that I hate time because I am in a Good Mood).

When I was younger, I had an intentionally recurring daydream that I had a watch that could stop time. I could choose when and where I wanted everyone and everything around me to stop. I could obviously continue to exist outside of time otherwise there wouldn’t have been much to daydream about. I always wanted to believe that I could do anything if I could do it in my own time. I could understand anything, achieve anything and be anyone I wanted to be if only someone would let me do it at my own pace. If I remember rightly, most of the daydreams revolved around having as much time as I wanted to read or study. I suppose I really was/ am a geek at heart.

I am a slow learner. Don’t worry, no self-deprecation around the corner because I know that I am a thorough learner. I [want to] think that I have eventually been able to understand everything that I have really wanted to. Some things have been painful and there are some sacrifices that I would perhaps not make again (i.e. university). I am quietly and dangerously optimistic that once I figure out what it is I want to get my head around, given a decent lifetime I should be able to make it.

I’ve felt a real urgency over the last few years. Having written off my university years and most of the people I met in that period, I then decided to have a lazy and fun year at law school. Once I moved to London I slowly realised that I had to make up for three years of fun and one year of [intellectual/ mental] stagnation. Each person’s theory of everything is going to focus on different things and I now know a few of the things I have to understand before my jigsaw is complete.

I have been trying to speak to each of my close friends for a while now about a few things. I made a decision in March/ April of this year to share some things that I have kept to myself for an awful long time. As I was supposed to visit my then girlfriend in China I had decided that she was going to be the lucky first who would have to listen to me and feign interest in my family affairs- and not just the things that were already public.

I denied it for a long time but I am quite a pathetic romantic and I wanted to tell certain things to the person I would end up spending the proverbial rest of my life with (cf anonymous’s theory of whether anyone can be a ‘one’ for a lifetime). I made the decision, without communicating it to anyone, that the time was right. This was the furthest I’d ever turned the ratchet which is one reason why it was so painful when the rug was pulled from beneath my feet.

Having thought it through for a few months I finally had the chat I was going to have with the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with my anonymous friend over some fast food in the middle of Manchester. A bloody good decision if I do say so myself as in a way I have shared something with someone I am going to spend the rest of my life with (although hopefully we are never going to have sex). Ok, so what the fuck is the point to this somewhat endless mumbling.

I want to reserve time with certain of my friends to talk about myself. No surprise there- I keep a blog for fuck’s sake! But it’s pretty damn difficult to do this when I live in a different country and they don’t live in the same city in England either. I have written this here so that I go through with it because I think it’s the right thing to do. It’s one of the main reasons I started this blog and it’s one of the main reasons I don’t want people who know me from a distance to read this.

I am running out of time because I have to do this before the end of February.

The expression ‘out of time’ can refer to several fundamentally different concepts:
· it can express that one does not have enough time to do or to accomplish something, as captured by the fuller expression ‘to run out of time’;
· it can mean that something or someone operates outside of the concept of time, as we understand it; and
· perhaps it can refer to something derived from time (this last one I have only just thought of and it is nearly 2 am so go easy on me).

I sat down with the intention of writing about a lot of things but I can’t be arsed. I am quite tired and this week is pretty much the first chance I have had in months to give myself a real break. I don’t have to look for a job and I don’t have to more country. To think this all started back in February…

So I am going to get some sleep. I don’t think I have expressed any of the above in the manner I wanted to and I am tempted not to make this post. But in the end, nothing really matters.

Sweet dreams.

What makes a 'good' monkey?

2005-12-16T08:46:00.000Z

Sparked by something a friend said, I am beginning to worry about myself. The conversations in my mind are beginning to replace the conversations I have withother people. I feel like I am turning myself inside out. I've been up since 6am and I have already lived an entire day out in my imagination. All of myconversations tend to revolve around making myself understood. I want everything I say to be interpreted in the light of who I am. I suppose I am resisting the epiphany that only I am capable of understanding myself. The relationships in my mind long ago replaced anyone I could touch or taste. All I can say is that they are going better than ever before and the reality is something I am quite content to sacrifice.

I have a friend arriving later today which is a welcome relief.

This one's for you Rosie- that weird one

2005-12-15T12:39:00.000Z

The only good thing about, no one of the good things about my little Blackberry, is that now I can write blog entries while in transit. Lucky you.

Not many people understand my attitude towards money and I find it frustrating. Somewhere along the line I am trying to maintain a moral code and value system independent of social status and material wealth. That sounds pretentious but then most things I say probably do. A thin line between the pretentious and the profound hey? I don’t see why my ideas should change from the time when I was a teenager. I didn’t have money to worry about then and I wasn’t attempting to climb any ladder, career or otherwise. The values chosen during my adolescent ‘veil of ignorance’ should be able to carry me through the rest of my life. I had more time to think back then and life was simpler in many ways. Some good thoughts were had and I am trying to cling on to them.

Every rejection on the grounds that I want to consider irrelevant just helps to seal my loneliness. I don't want to describe myself in a flurry of ill-thought, self deprecating though ultimately ego massaging manner, but I can see that the qualities that all of the people (and there have only been a few) have found attractive in me, are the same qualities that they decide they can't live with in the long term. In a sense the previous sentence can be interpreted in a manner so universal in application that it is worthless. That puts an end to that.

It has come to the point when I think the only meaningful and plausible avenue of non-conformity left to me is conformity in its vulgar and unadulterated state. I want to tell people to fuck off so desperately in an abstract sense that I am fighting the pleasure I get from genuinely friendly interaction. This isn’t helping. Burning bridges every couple of years has become a bit of a habit, almost to the extent that I consider any attempt to overcome my loneliness as a betrayal of self.

How far we adjust our desires according to our predicaments and abilities is something I think about far too much. Of course this is the life I have chosen. This is my world, and these are my mistakes.

So what's with the t-shirts?

2005-12-04T13:45:00.000Z

Times are quite tough out here on the mainland:

I still have no internet access in the flat;
I still have no phone line in the flat;
I still live with a flat-mate who has removed everything that was in the flat when I arrived (including mop and shower curtain etc!) on the pretext that it all belonged to his ex-girlfriend who demanded all her things be shipped to Italy;
I still have no sofa (the flat-mate had agreed to move his in but is now leaving);
I still don't have the rent from my flat-mate for this month;
I am working/ have worked on Saturday and Sunday;
I am now the only qualified lawyer working on a case that is coming to a key point after 10 months of work- I have about 22 weeks experience in competition law;
my other case has also hit interesting i.e. busy times;
my secretary is awful and basically refuses to do anything and even when she does it is late and sloppy;
I am only human;
I can't afford an accountant;
I have missed my tax pre-payment deadline;
I still haven't registered with social security;
I still haven't registered with the local bar;
I haven't had sex since 4 March 2005;
I have no love/ sex interest with which to occupy the time;
I am developing an addiction to lists; and
my only friend out here is probably leaving in a week (see below).

There is more but I think I've covered the main points.

Highlights from last night:

a lot of attractive women to look at;
in the club a guy out here was explaining to me that he was "very bright" but still enjoyed being shallow. He kept repeating that he was "very bright" to me and it was getting irritating. I hate myself for this but eventually I stopped him and explained that I understood he was very bright and that I was also "very bright" so he wasn't that special;
the friend I have out here has been asked to stay out for another three months. He is thinking about it and in a drunken moment he told me that if he decided to stay out here I would have a big part to do with his decision. It's a shame he's not a girl.

I better get back to work. Actually I haven't started.

Devil's haircut

2005-11-20T19:31:00.000Z

I have to keep this short as I am in the office and it's Sunday night.

This last week has been tough. I've worked 82 hours which means that I spent closer to 90 hours at least in the office. I think I may start to call it home.

Other highlights of my life this past week include:

having an argument with my flat-mate, who is unreliable and blatantly thinks I am a soft touch. Maybe I am, maybe I should work on being a tough City twat;
last night a couple of girls said they had decided I was the best guy out here. Now I take these things with a pinch of salt but I have to admit having them declare it made me feel kind of good. I think it's because I haven't tried to pull either of them and I suppose I could have. One of girls didn't particularly like me till recently so I suppose progress has been made. Then I felt kind of shit because they don't know me, and if was so fucking great why would I be jerking myself off umpteen times a day (only time at the weekend to be frank) over someone who in her own words "treated me like a bit of a bitch";
yeh, so I suppose that means that she's still on my mind. I don't have time for interesting thoughts at the moment, which is a shame because I never intended to use this as a "getting over someone blog", which I suppose it has been from time to time. Someone asked me once if it was ever serious, was l*v* involved. I think there was.
I have a million things to chat to my parents about when I go home next weekend. I am finally going to confront them, actually that's a bit strong, talk to them about why they have lied to me all my life about a lot of stuff. It isn't going to be easy but then I've already started the process with my Mum and it's really helped me not resent her so much. It's all going well and once this is through, it'll be the one issue I've always avoided tackled head on. I can finally get on with the rest of my life. Oooooh- cryptic. I love them an incredible amount and I hope that they know that.
I miss England, I miss my friends and I miss my family. And I miss good food.

I better get back to work but I guess that I should be grateful, once again, for the fact that some day everything in going to work out exactly how I intended it- give or take a few issues.

Truth convened, my head smashed through the ceiling

2005-11-12T22:03:00.000Z

I am feeling pretty confused. It's 11pm on a Saturday night and I am just leaving work. A friend is visiting for the weekend so it's not the best time to be in the office. Needless to say I am all day Sunday too. Furthermore:

The ex has emailed twice in the last two days and I have replied both times. I am really torn between wanting to speak to her and needing to get over it. I miss her.

My crotch and my heart are tending to favour the former, and my head tells me I need to sort my life out. I trust my head, it's never really let me down. But how am I going to get to where I want to be by using my head alone?

I am so full of emotion I want to implode. Work, family and women are all causing concern at the moment and this is not a healthy combination.

I know it'll be ok, so I suppose on that note I should get my arse out of here and have a drink. That always helps :)

OED strikes again

2005-11-06T16:10:00.000Z

Subversion

The action of subverting or state of being subverted.
1. Overthrow, demolition (of a city, stronghold, etc.)
2. The turning (of a thing) upside down or uprooting it from its position; overturning, upsetting (of an object). Now rare.
3. Med. subversion of the stomach: nausea.
4. In immaterial senses: Overthrow, ruin.
a. of a law, rule, system, condition, faculty, character, etc.
b. of persons, countries, peoples, or their lives or fortunes.

Nausea

1. a. A feeling of sickness with an inclination to vomit; an occurrence of such a feeling.
b. Seasickness; an instance of this.
2. In extended use: strong disgust, loathing, or aversion; a feeling of this.
3. That which causes sickness or loathing; an excess (of something) that causes sickness or loathing.

Satisfaction in a gift-wrapped box

2005-11-06T16:08:00.000Z

Tough times were had yesterday afternoon. I woke up in a guy’s bed, fully clothed I should add, which was very bizarre as it was only the third time I had ever met him. I can’t quite remember how the night before had ended. I was out with this guy, M, and I remember two girls joined us at some stage. I can’t remember what they looked like. I am sure I talked about furniture. M insisted that I was too drunk to make it home so I stayed at his. I think he’s gay so I didn’t want to lead him on but I obviously decided that it seemed like the best idea at the time.

So I woke up, still very drunk, and went into town with M and bought a router. My internet problems at home are still not sorted but I don’t want to get into that. In fact I want to write about last night.

The afternoon had been tricky. As a poor friend knows, I was having serious doubts about my European adventure. Loneliness got me again, accompanied by its friend, the hangover.
I reluctantly invited Y around for dinner. I only say reluctantly because Y is a friend of the ex and I can’t help wanting to ask her who the ex is sleeping with at the moment or whether she still loves me and that kind of shit. But I knew cooking would make me feel better and a little publicity always goes a long way in small circles.

I couldn’t find a tin opener. I went downstairs to H’s flat (I work with H who lives in the same building) and this seemed like a mistake as his Mum and her new husband were there and I hadn’t even managed a shower.

Dinner with Y was pleasant, then I reluctantly went out to a bar round the corner where I knew The List (the default social group) were out and about.

Some times these things happen and I was in a strange mood. Strange moods work well for me from time to time. Let’s call it the venus fly-trap effect.

I started talking to this girl. She can be E even though it’s not what she should be called. I told her she had had a haircut. I suppose she already knew this so I shouldn’t really have said anything as her hair looked better before. If I noticed this she was probably aware of it too. We then talked about hair and I said it was time I lost my hair. I then confessed that the only reason I hadn’t shaved my head was because I know that girls have tended to like my hair and as I was single I needed all the help I could get. Also, I imagine I would look quite unfriendly with no hair- not conducive. A few self-deprecating comments down the line she said I had good cheekbones. I didn’t realise I had been on a fishing expedition but it was nice all the same.

H arrived and promptly announced that his mother thought I was very handsome. The ego massage was in full swing and I felt pretty good by now.

I spoke to E about existentialism, Nietzsche, Dostoevsky, being an intimacy junkie, the arrow of time, and vibrators. She had studied philosophy so I didn’t feel like too much of a prick. I found myself flirting with her even though we spoke about her boyfriend and I didn’t fancy her at all. Which is a shame I suppose.

E guessed that I don’t have many friends but that the friends I have I am pretty close to. We were on the same wavelength which is always nice.

We went on to a poncy club where everyone wore Diesel and liked to make out that they were wealthier and trendier than they actually were. Living the dream. Lots of stunning women who probably wouldn’t ever give me a look in.

I danced with a girl called M who I think I may fancy a little bit. She’s a good dancer and some contact is always nice. I thought about kissing her at a few points throughout the night but then remembered that that wasn’t really my style and as it would never work out it wasn’t worth it anyway.

At some point in the night I sat next to E and she asked me what I though about her. A strange question and I didn’t really know what to say. She said she couldn’t figure out whether I liked her. I didn’t really know what she was playing at so I told her that our conversation would be documented on this blog which I suppose meant that I liked her. I told her she would be called E to preserve anonymity even though she should have been called H. There’s already a H in this story so I suppose it’s worked out fine. She then told me that she really liked me which scared me a little so I pulled out a few evasive manoeuvres and tried not to think about the last time someone had said those words to me (the ex had used that one on me and it worked as I slept with her a few hours later). E left soon after that.

As the night was drawing to an end, the girl from the rock bar, K grabbed me and insisted that I take her home because she was too drunk to make it on her own. She was probably right to I got in a taxi with her even though I was only walking distance from home. It all got a bit too cosy in the back seat as we sat arm in arm and I began to feel a little uncomfortable. She said I didn’t have to go back to mine and that I could stay over if I liked. I recycled some manoeuvres and managed not to get out of the taxi to walk her to her door as I thought that would be a bit too risky.

That’s it really. Now that I’ve written it up it doesn’t seem to have been as much fun as I remembered it being. The point is, for an evening, I felt attractive and it was F.U.N. And I managed not to get into trouble. I was myself and I got away with it. I hope it stays that way.

I love the O.E.D.

2005-10-31T10:38:00.000Z

Scold:

1. intr. a. Originally, to behave as a scold; to quarrel noisily, to brawl; to rail at or wrangle with some one; to use violent or unseemly language in vituperation; said chiefly of women. Obs. b. Now with milder sense (partly as absol. use of sense 3): To use undignifed vehemence or persistence in reproof or fault-finding; colloq. often merely, to utter continuous reproof.

Whose got the words now, eh?

Hand-brake

2005-10-26T12:29:00.000+01:00

Well, I admit it, I was a little hungover during my last rant.

University and London were/are full of supposedly well-meaning privileged young people who like to do their bit for a worthy cause. Other than the sometimes vulgar self-congratulatory tone of such unnecessarily formal events, I have always wondered how much money or awareness they actually raise, or whether they simply serve to provide useful networking skills for the ambitious organisers involved. Reading this article reminded me of this:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2-1843465,00.html

Why charity and black-tie go hand in hand for Middle England baffles me. Why is F.U.N. associated with pomposity?

There's a lot more to discuss here, for example the subconscious cost/appreciation analysis that most people undertake. But unfortunately, I have to get back to work.

Burning every bridge that I cross, to find some beautiful place to get lost

2005-10-22T16:28:00.000+01:00

I have to admit it, it gets desperately lonely out here. I’ve been living with strangers for 8 months now. I am sick of reinvention.

I met some interesting Portugese characters last night. They worked for some UN-related NGO.

There are so many things I want to talk about but I am developing a novel tendency.

Recently, I’ve had days when I don’t want to talk to anyone. I’ve even called friends back at home and I haven’t really had anything to say. I don’t want to become any more introverted but I feel like I am losing the ability to communicate.

I can’t understand people. To think, millions of years of evolution and this is the best that mother nature could come up with. I suppose one of the reasons we value altruism is that it is so hard to achieve.

I can’t understand how incredibly selfish we are- I can’t get over how incredibly selfish I am. There are some things for which I will never be able to forgive myself. The problem is that there isn’t really anyone who can forgive them for me. Perhaps divine validation is the way forward after all.

I don’t know what I am doing anymore. I really feel like I’ve lost my way.

Once again, I am elevating the concept of being in a relationship to dangerous levels. I know that having someone else to hold your hand doesn’t ease the burden of existence so why the fuck bother.

I don’t know why I turned out this way. I can appreciate the odd thing here and there but I don’t know where I came from so it’s even more difficult figuring out where I am heading.

I think of some of my friends and my ex-girlfriend and the people I work with and everyone around me and it just seems so fucking easy. Everything they do, they want, they feel- it’s all been done before. It would be so fucking easy if all I wanted was a good job and a pretty girl because I know somewhere deep down that I could have it. My success is hollow and illusory. I am and will always be a cultural and religious failure.

I am fed up of being referred to as a colour here and a colour there. I am no more white than I am brown and I would much rather peel my skin off than be condemned to a life of belonging.

It’s funny how some of the things we hate the most are those that we will always chase after. Why is elusion so attractive? Does that even make sense? It’s not really that funny, more pathetic.

My parents spent my entire childhood telling me that I was different to all of my relatives. If I wasn’t allowed to do something it was always because I was different. Somewhere along the line I bought their propaganda. Education became my escape. I would never have to be like them. If I was so fucking special I wanted a piece of paper to help me understand why they resented me.

With every achievement I waited for a word or two of praise from the extended family. Just a little something to tell me that I turned out ok. I was so fucking stupid then and I suppose I am now. I don’t like the idea of being stupid. All I ever needed was a BMW, a brown wife and couple indoctrinated kids and I could have had all the appreciation, advertisement and acceptance I ever wanted. Sometimes I wish I’d taken it all. If I can’t be happy then at least I could’ve made my parents happy.

Parental rejection has scarred me beyond repair. How can you ever recover from knowing that you weren’t good enough for your own parents. Even the illusory unconditional love that most people bathe in was taken from me at an early age and replaced with a feeling of worthlessness that no piece of paper will ever compensate for. I once said to my Mum that I could win a Nobel prize and still be a failure as a son. I can’t forgive myself for failing as a brother too- that part at least was within my control. I can’t ever have my time back and if an afterlife exists it could only serve to torture me by not allowing me to escape my mistakes.

I sometimes hope that the free will I value so much is without substance. Any abdication of responsibility would be a welcome release.

I feel pretty, pretty enough for you

2005-10-16T16:28:00.000+01:00

My ex has hijacked my monologue.

I can't stop thinking about her and at this present moment in time I really want to go out with her again, for what would technically be about the fourth time. It's fucking ridiculous- I live in a different country. I've spoken to her once in about 6 months.

I am trying to use my head. I know I feel this way because I am out of my element at the moment.

My head, my heart and my penis are pulling in different directions. Now I understand what Ian Curtis was singing about.

Interrupted

2005-10-16T16:21:00.000+01:00

People often elevate a single attribute or quality to a personality-defining status. This is most obvious when people do it with their sexuality but I think there are also other interesting self-projections.

One step forward

2005-10-10T07:35:00.000+01:00

Last night I received a call from the ex-girlfriend.

There's more to follow when I get a moment.

These days

2005-10-09T16:16:00.000+01:00

I haven’t smoked gear for 7 months. It’s fucking fantastic. I think I thought that if I stopped any unpredictable turns of thought would disappear. But others were right- there’s a sudden clarity. It’s like my mind’s gone from analogue to digital.

I’ve just had a few mock arguments in my head with people out here that I don’t like.

I suppose I am pretty confident by most people’s standards. I was me yesterday, I plan on being me today and I guess I will be me tomorrow. That much isn't going to change and worry/ stress is pretty futile if things are not within your control.

A girl asked me the other day to tell her about my friends. So I did. I think it would have been very amusing if they had been there. No danger of that on the continent though.

I’ve got this Venn diagram-like chart in my mind. It has to do with friendships and oval orbits. If I knew how to use computer programs well enough I would try to put it on here. It’s a theory about how each individual is the centre of his or her universe. Friends gravitate towards you and they come closer and get further away depending on what is going on and where you are in life at any given time. If they escape your orbit then they are lost for the time being until you try and bring them back in- if you can be bothered. It really works well in my head and I wish I could share it with you. I’ve been refining it for about a year now. It’s the kind of thing that will end up in my book, along with the film and you get the picture.

Success is great for friendship. We all advertise our friends as if they make us more worthy of the listener's attention. Intelligence, creativity, humour and intimacy I guess are the principle things that I like to think rub off on me. I’ll take most opportunities to flag up the virtues in those close to me to make up for my own frailties.

Kid A track 4 is genius. I hate people… you know where I am going with this and I’ve said it before so let’s move on.

As mentioned, ee all like to define ourselves by our appreciation of the creativity of others.

I’m not here
This isn’t happening

There’s a lot of mileage in denial. There’s a lot of mileage in repetition.

I am suffering from a lot of repetitive story boredom at the moment. At work I feel like I am stuck on the set of The Office. These people are for real. I am surrounded by some of the best legal minds in the world. But then nothing comes without a price.

I want to cook dinner for people but I decided not to do that anymore a while ago and there’s no going back.

You may not have guessed it but today is a pretty good day.

I laugh until my head comes off
I swallow till I burst

That makes it quite a few good weekend days in a row. I don’t count the week anymore. That’s just work. You can have good work days but they’re not the same as good monkey days.

This is really happening

Take the money run, take the money run, take the money

I don’t want to grow up anymore. This is it. This is the best I’ve felt for years. No-one I know is here to enjoy it. There’s no bird to see a few more pieces fall in place. I like to think of this as my sweet, bitter and pathetic revenge.

I announced last night to R and K that I wasn’t going to have another serious relationship until I met someone I was going to marry. K said that this was something we hadn’t discussed the other day and I said I couldn’t remember. R hasn’t got a clue either so K has become the arbiter of everything that was and that was not discussed during the other night’s chat.

I am not ready to start feeling guilty for fancying a lot of people. Something’s going to happen soon though. I can feel it. I have personal timetables to abide by and deadlines to meet.

My liking of Signal toothpaste took a serious pasting last night. I defended myself well but for some people the fact that I was now a qualified lawyer meant that I should move on to Colgate. Nothing (well few toothpastes) beats the original Signal flavour. And I remember the adverts.

There’s a guy out here who worships my housemate (from London). I had been riding the crest of this wave for a few group conversations but last night I really had to put him straight. He asked me who my housemate would be staying with when he came to visit. I was bemused at first and then just shocked. I explained to him that this was my mate, not just a work colleague. He’s a nice guy but I nearly told him to get some fucking kudos from somewhere else.

Which brings me back to another point. Success, as mentioned, is good for friendship. We all remember the cricketer from school who went on to throw balls for a living. I found out a couple of nights ago that some guy I went to college/university with is in a film. I thought about it for a second and then decided it really wasn’t worth the 30 seconds I had thought about him. Who gives a shit? My mate’s on this reality TV program…

Puppet-master- good phrase, to be used with increasing frequency until boredom sets in.

I need to have a shower or something.

Anecdotes in the workplace are suffocating

2005-10-06T14:16:00.000+01:00

Of the four fictional relationships mentioned somewhere below, two of them are over, one is still going strong (incidentally mentally the most unhealthy), and one has been put on hold- let's call it a 'break'.

As I retreat, I find it more and more difficult to relate to other people. Most conversations add little to my life experience and I haven't got enough time to waste with meaningless interactions when I know that there are people out there who can move me.

I get childishly excited when I may have met someone who could provide some entertainment. The frequent disappointment is no longer a surprise, so in that sense the damage is already limited. This cuts both ways- I can't say I am doing very well with most of the people out here but then I think part of the reason is if I can't have conversation on my terms, I stick to entertaining myself.

There's nothing more annoying than sensing that people don't like you when you haven't even had the chance to give them good reason.

Ostracized/ split-entry

2005-10-03T12:25:00.000+01:00

There's been a lot going on and I really wish I had enough time to write about it. However, there is a little bit more to this emmigrating business than I thought.

I now have a flat that I intend on making home. This is serious adult stuff. I don't feel grown-up enough to joing the other associates at work so I have been spending most of my time with trainees and the like (although I can't remember having felt so unpopular in a long time- TBD)

I have managed to avoid getting myself into trouble so far although I let my guard down a little over the weekend and perhaps said a little bit too much of what was going on in my mind. That said I met someone with a fantastically weird self-depracating sense of humour which managed to resurrect an otherwise middle-aged house party. Unfortunately he doesn't live here but I will try my best to catch him for a drink some time this week. These people don't come often.

The loneliness is creeping in and every time I speak to friends back home I realise that the long catch-up phone calls may become my standard form of communication with them. This makes me sad but then at least I have that.

I have to get back to work- I really need something to do with my life and I think I may give the work thing a real shot. I can't believe I've even said that.

This is a separate point, but at some point in my life I want to excel at something effortlessly. I already know that can't be work because no-one excels at this job without a lot of sacrifice. There's got to be something. I very much doubt it'll be fatherhood either. I think this means I need to change lanes at some point.

I don't know how the above sits with my general abhorrence of competitiveness. This is something I need to discuss with you all. I don't want to be the best at anything, I just want to be the best monkey that I can be. And perhaps that could be the thing I could excel at- being me? Except even that doesn't feel too effortless.

I need some direction- and I don't mean a woman although that may help :)

Anyway, there's a lot to be done and not enough time to do it.

Sqaure peg: round hole

2005-09-18T22:24:00.000+01:00

I’ve just watched I Heart Huckaby and one of the thoughts going through my mind was that not one person I have been out with would genuinely have enjoyed it as much as I did. They would have pretended perhaps but that would really have been by osmosis rather than a genuine independent liking- at least I think so.

Another thing I thought about a lot was how it ended between me and the ex. I know I shouldn’t write about this in such a public way (especially on a re-read) but this is my life and she’s not a part of it anymore. Moral obligations are in recession and nothing really matters anyway. What’s the worse that can happen? She won’t like me anymore- well I know that much from the fact that she dumped me. She may hate me. Better to be hated than forgotten right? She shouldn't be reading in any case- that would be breaking a promise and we all know that people don't do that.

I didn’t know him at all, as she pointed out on occasion, but her ex-boyfriend represented pretty much everything I hate. It doesn’t really matter if I am right or not. In my head he wore chinos, Ralph Lauren, he earned more money than is healthy (at least three times my decent salary in my head), he liked dinner parties, he could buy happiness should it not be attracted to his financial prospects, he had nice things, he had everything including the girl I’ve cared most about in my life. I know some people doubt the sincerity of how I felt about her but so be it. I’ve spared her the emotional scarring I’ve tried to inflict on someone out of bitterness before and I suppose that could be a testament to how much she meant to me. Having spent a weekend with him on the other side of the world while she was supposedly in love with me, she chose him. His were the prospects that reduced anything I had to offer to being rather pathetically insufficient. Now that’s a punch in the balls if ever there was one. It doesn’t matter whether anything happened between them. It doesn’t matter whether she’s going out with him now or not. Well it does but not for the purposes of this rant.

I want to condemn her to an existence with him that I would find more despicable than a lifetime with nothing but my thoughts for company- a life of Land Rovers, pet dogs and annual skiing holidays. But I need to let go and I am really bad at letting go. I can’t deal with rejection and I think know why but I can’t tell you.

I suffer from what I call pretentiously call Othello syndrome:

She’s gone, I am abused, and my relief must be to loathe her.

It’s amazing that I remembered the quote even though at the time of reading I hadn’t even kissed a girl… well almost...

I live in a world that is pretty alien to me. Wine and cheese, holidays, skiing, cuff-links, suits, shagging, pulling. None of this was meant for me. I am out of my element and I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve betrayed myself just to get by. I hang on to a fraudulent intelligence because it’s the one-way ticket I have to this universe and without it I don't belong in it. For some of my friends over the times I have felt that it validated my belonging at their etiquette-ridden dinner tables. As you can see, my universe extends about as far as my arms can reach. Yeh go on, think it… lazy.

As I said I am out of my element and maybe that’s where the similarity ends. Well that and the destructive jealousy and the mistrust and martyrdom and suffering and the doubt and the ego and anger and perhaps even the pigment too.

On a separate note I don’t know how I got there but I think I am debating not sleeping with anyone again until I find someone I want to spend most of my life with. No fucking, no shagging, nothing until someone’s willing to take a chance on me. I don’t ever want to reach double figures (in fact nowhere close) and already I’ve slept with a few more people than I ever really wanted to. A while ago I finally managed to separate friendship and sex and I think it’s about time I took another step in the right direction. My choices define who I am and that’s all I have. Let me know what you think…

To more fun things.

I had dinner with the girl, what did I call her… K? Bollocks, I had a system and it’s gone. The guy, R, didn’t turn up and no-one’s seen him since. Hope he’s ok. So it was just me and her. It was great but a bit weird. I spoke in my English Lit voice. I told her I was speaking in my English Lit voice. I told her that I got caught telling someone else’s story once. I told her I was telling her stupid things about myself because there’s always value in the shock factor. It wasn’t a date at all but I don’t think I’ve talked to a girl I didn’t know before in a one-on-one situation over dinner. I felt like I was a teenager. I told her I would lose the voice when we met up with the others and I did.

I danced like a monkey on speed. I used other people’s moves and few of my own.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

We went to a bar to meet up with others and I was secretly hoping that A, a girl I had a brief but interesting conversation with last week, was going to be there. I sat outside with a few of them then I went inside because A wasn’t outside. She wasn’t inside either. Oh well.

There were two attractive girl’s (well I could only see the face of one of them) sat nearby and one the guys went over to chat to them. Another guy pointed out that the guy had said he was going to try his luck. I thought fuck it, I am going over to chat to the guy because then I can chat to them too. I went over and suddenly realised that the girl I couldn’t see was A. I didn’t get to speak to her for a while but then when I did it didn’t go very smoothly. I owed her money from a taxi so I tried to give it to her but she got all offended and said that I had made it embarrassing for her. I looked to her friend for comfort and asked her if I had made it embarrassing or whether it was a simple question of giving someone something they’re owed. She didn’t help. Well by now it was awkward.

I have mini-crushes about 10 times a week. I always have several fictitious relationships floating around my head at any one time. I think I have four going at the moment. Only when single mind you. I want you to know that. They don’t all work out even in my head but then I said that they were fictional, I didn't say that they were fantasies. And these things sometimes don’t work out.

Of the people I have been involved with, the first eclipsed me with her intelligence, the second with her good nature and the third with her beauty. I can’t turn over stones for the rest of my life.

But I digress.

As I was standing at the bar, trying to make small talk with an attractive girl incidentally also capable of interesting conversation who had just unintentionally made me look like an idiot she threw me a lifeline. She said that the previous Sunday (the day after we first met) she was sitting in a café on her own near where we live and it occurred to her that it would be pleasant if I had been there. But she didn’t have my phone number so she couldn’t call me. I told her that it would indeed have been nice to join her for a coffee but then I left it at that. I find these interactions particularly awkward. I said I didn’t have a local mobile and my English mobile wasn’t very reliable. I left it at that. A few minutes later she suggested that I take her number so that when I get a local mobile I can give her a call. I took her number, realising that she was watching me as I typed in her name. I remembered the abbreviated version but couldn’t face asking her what her full first name was. I didn’t offer her my English mobile and I don’t know why. She then told me again how nice it would have been if I could have joined her for a coffee. That’s it. I didn’t say anything. I know I should have said something like let’s go for a drink but I don’t know how. I asked someone once to go for a drink and she hesitated before saying yes and then it never happened (over two years ago!). So that’s really it. That’s my idea of a successful night. She left soon after to go to the bar I suggested with her friend. They were having a quiet one.

You see it isn’t quite how it sounds. I like her but I like lots of people. I am supposed to be being more pro-active in these matters. But I can’t take the risk. At least in the past I have blamed other people for their mistakes. This abdication of responsibility has alleviated me from some of the blame for the failure of my previous relationships. But then it’s not that much fun being the mistake.

I gave J a one sentence summary of the above when I returned to my seat and she teased me a little but I said it wasn’t like that. J’s pretty damn cool but I am trying not to set people up here.
I want to go out with someone capable of abstract thought. And I don’t just mean legally speaking. And I don’t just mean the occasional discussion about religion.

I want to go out with someone who might understand that I may not want to sleep with her for an awful long time (by today’s standards). All of my relationships have started with sex. It’s not conducive to, or more accurately just not helpful in developing a meaningful relationship.

Other people don’t play by the same sexual rules that I do. A kiss should mean that you don’t kiss someone else for a while. A shag should certainly mean that you don’t sleep with other people. There’s no value in exclusivity anymore. There’s no benefit to patience.
You’re only as special as your last fuck. I really hate that word.

I am reading fiction again. It’s been over a year. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night –time. It’s brilliant.

I think I am going to read. It’s been a good weekend. I think I may have made the right decision in coming here. I’m not ready for the real world again quite yet.

Apologies for making this blog into a more conventional diary- it was never intended to serve that purpose. Hopefully there’s still a little self-exploration going on above. And if not… well who gives a shit.

Good night x

Anticipation

2005-09-17T15:52:00.000+01:00

I went home early last night. I made it to the supermarket. Little pleasures.

I cooked dinner although unfortunately I couldn’t make the curry I was excited about (it’s been over a week without) because we don’t have a tin opener.

I live with a 32-year old Polish woman for the time being.

My flat-mate has a friend over this weekend and I think she is quite keen that we all do things together. I wasn’t that eager to join them last night as I knew that there were other foreigners out in town. My ‘default social group’ as I named them last night. I figured I should at least meet them.

So these other people were meeting in town at a bar at 8pm. I wasn’t on the email list (which I won’t take personally- this time) but one of the lads at work was decent enough to print off the email and give it to me, even though he was going for dinner with his girlfriend who is visiting. By the time I had cooked dinner and share a bottle of wine at home it was already nearly 10pm. Dilemma- but I was feeling adventurous so I thought I would head into town anyway. If they had moved on they had moved on and so be it. I could always get in touch with the flat mate and join the oldies (there was another one too) for a civilised dinner. This I will call General Plan B- particularly apt as I was listening to Plan B on the way there. It always gets me going.
I finally arrived in the bar which was a minor miracle as we had studied the map for ages before I left and didn’t know where the street was. Too much detail.

So I arrived at the bar and looked around. ‘Bollocks’ was pretty much what I though as I didn’t recognise a soul there. Calm and collected, I circled the bar a few times and listened out for English, could-be-lawyers type conversations. Not as easy as it sounds. Everyone speaks English here. Bollocks indeed.

I am rather enjoying the fact that I don’t know anyone here so I decided to buy a beer. That was when I spotted R, a guy I thought I recognised from law school. I cunningly walked past him but his Irish accent was so strong I couldn’t understand a word he said and in my mind the person I remembered with his face didn’t have an Irish accent to match. That was ok though because I wasn’t sure about the accent anyway so asking him if I knew him would be The Bar Plan B. No harm in continuing to circle, after all it could be that a different bunch of people were out from last weekend. I just had t find them. Then I spotted Q, a tall guy I didn’t particularly hit it off with from the week before. He was my temporary best mate. I pulled up a chair, which in itself was eventful as I hadn’t realised the two seats opposite weren’t taken. We made small talk. I met some of the others. Then R sat at the other end of the table. So it was the guy I recognised after all. There was no need for The Bar Plan B so I ditched that, as I would end up talking to him anyway.

There’s far too much detail here so I am going to fast forward a little. R ended up catching my eye and pointing, then e came over to catch and we did the whole ‘yeh, we vaguely recognise each other’ chat and then I threw a few things out there expecting to have to pick them up a few moments later, but to my surprise he caught them and threw a few of his own. I was no butter-fingers myself. The evening was already looking better than I expected.

We ended up walking for food and losing some of the others on the way. Then after food we lost a few more and it was just me, R and some new girl called L. Her’s was a blank slate.
R suggested we go to a rock club and my eyes lit up. He didn’t really know where it was so we walked for ages with him walking a few steps ahead. Then something surprising happened. L made a reference to not have a frame of reference. Feeling a little bold, and having a had a few drinks I said:

“Shut the fuck up Donnie”

As soon as I said it I thought I sounded like a tit- I’d just met her and for no reason told her to shut the fuck up. But she laughed. I told her this was amazing. I told her I’d be speaking about it the day after. This was great. I liked them both.

We eventually found the rock club which was more of a rock bar, and not great European rock at
that but it would do and the important thing was I was with two people I like who didn’t want to go to some poncy cocktail bar. We had pretty interesting chat for a while and then, slightly repetitive I know I made another reference and R got it this time too.

That was it. I wasn’t going to take any prisoners- I unleashed hell (in the parlance of our movie-going times). We had what I think is pretty much the best ‘I don’t know who the fuck you are but you seem ok’ chats I think I’ve ever had. It went on till 6am. We were turning over stones like there was no tomorrow. An explicitly accelerated ‘here I am- take it or leave it chat’ with people I liked. Moving cities doesn’t get much better.

I can hear MB telling me not to let go of the reigns and he’s right. Don’t worry, I’ve been here before.

We decided to meet for a drink before meeting the others tonight for dinner. Then someone suggested that we just have dinner the three of us I agreed. We could mingle later.

And that’s how it is for now.

Bonus is that I arrived at work and I had an email saying PLEASE DONT WORK OVER THE W/E.

Let’s see how long this one lasts.

To think I never liked poetry

2005-09-15T12:53:00.000+01:00

I shan't be happy anymore. Maybe it doesn't matter.
There are so many other things in the world.
Any instant is more profound
And diverse than the sea. Life is short
And even if the hours are so long,
An obscure wonder awaits us.
Death, that other sea, that other arrow,
That free us from sun, moon
And love. The happiness you gave me
And took away, must be erased.
What was everything must turn into nothing.
Now I only have the joy of being sad.
That vain custom that takes me
To the south, to a certain street, to a certain corner.

1964- Jorge Luis borges

Honeymoon

2005-09-15T08:33:00.000+01:00

As I was making my bed this morning- well ok, straightening the duvet, all I could think of was how much I was looking forward to getting back in it at the end of the day.

Purging hiccups

2005-09-14T08:29:00.000+01:00

This morning as I was dozing/ snoozing, I woke up to the following image- my Outlook inbox.

I had a new email, in bold and bright green. This could mean only one thing- an email from my ex-girlfriend (ok, ok I like my colour rules!). I looked across to check and I read her full name slowly. The subject line read: Crap stuff: bags.

I looked down at the email, it was about a line and a half long and was signed off with a single initial. I couldn't read it, partly because I had woken myself up at this point, but I just remember thinking that I didn't leave much stuff with her, at least not a bag's worth.

Feeling gravity's pull

2005-09-13T08:25:00.000+01:00

Opening one sexual door always closes another. At least that’s the way it works in my head and I am more than happy for it to stay that way.

I have occasionally referred to my insecurities relating to the other sex as my Achilles heel. Although this complacently seems to suggest a single personality defect this isn’t intentional. I’ve got a few others up my sleeve (as you may have noticed).

Maps and legends

2005-09-12T08:22:00.000+01:00

My self-validation comes primarily, at the moment, from three people. I am glad that all three of them have now decided to blog which means I can at least have some regular contact with them on a more or less daily basis. This makes me pretty happy.

Interestingly enough, I have never relied on a girl for the self-validation of my opinions and attitudes. I know I must be doing something wrong here. I think it would be fun to try. Then again, I know I am not the only one and from what I gather it isn't a barrier to a successful relationship.

Knowledge and condescension make lovely bed-partners

2005-09-01T16:08:00.000+01:00

The truth is that all of us have opinions, some of them very strong, on subjects we are not experts on. And unless we believe we should have no views and take no action on anything outside our expertise, that is something we just have to live with. Nevertheless, it is interesting to speculate why some non- expert views are dismissed as naive and ill-informed, while others will be entirely respected at dinner-table conversations.

The answer might be suggested by a remark in John Carey's The Intellectuals and the Masses. Make Poverty History has become a mass movement and, as Carey claims, the function of the term "mass" is "to deprive [the majority of people] of those distinctive features that makes users of the term, in their own esteem, superior".

The consequence of this is what we might term Carey's Law: anything which reaches a certain level of popularity will become despised by the minority who see themselves as society's elite. The anti-war campaign was the exception to the rule, only because the elite detest Tony Blair more even than they do the masses.

Julian Bagginni

Where's the gearstick?

2005-08-24T20:48:00.000+01:00

As I mentally go through the back-catalogue of sexual experiences there are a number of running themes. Many of them I am not going to discuss here yet but there are a lot of things in my mind that are unresolved. It's a bit of a problem actually- if you think of my head as an Outlook-esque application, then I keep putting matters into the folder I've called "Unresolved", which means I have to come back to them later and think them through. I like to do this in transit, on the toilet, or while chatting to friends.

Anyway, this week, in our small little community it seems that the monkey has been excluded from his tidy little unit of friends. Social punishment for past indiscretions or have some of them realised that they don’t actually like me. Please, catch up.

This reminds me of the view we have of ourselves as special, non-conformist or eccentric but some people’s efforts at individuality are pathetically textbook.

I’ve yet to meet one rich kid who I see eye to eye on about enough things to even entertain the possibility of true friendship. I understand the dangers of my social strategies, I remember them well as occasionally people point out it’s flaws. But, I am careful to curb my worst excesses and I think I’ve found a healthy (for me) and fair approach to this whole social interaction thing.

This is a song about something there, there is something about this song

We did the clubs one night, I was hoping to have her in the sack

I was looking handsome, she was looking like an erotic vulture

I was all dressed in black, she was all dressed up in black

Everything was fine down here, what you call it here call it what you will here

Way down down down in this subbacultcha

Her warm white belly in the life i'd lived had seen nothing finer

She shakes and she moves me or something

She's like jellyroll, like sculpture

I was wearing eyeliner, she was wearing eyeliner

It was so good down here, saving for my scrapbook here

Way down down down in this subbacultcha

Now we live on the sea and relax and ride the tack

Drug running on this panamanian schooner

She walks the deck in a black dress, and me I dress up in black

And we listen to the sea, and look at the sky in a poetic kind of way

What you call it when you look at the sky in a poetic kind of way

You know when you grope for luna

Man, even reading the lyrics gets me goin. Now for something completely different:

Social scientists have defined “prejudice” in a number of ways. Technically, there are positive and negative prejudices…

These expectations are called “stereotypes”. The word “stereotype,” like the word “prejudice”, has negative connotations. It refers to an overgeneralisation- the attribution of identical characteristics to any person in a group, regardless of the actual variation among members of that group… Stereotyping in not necessarily an intentional act of abusiveness, however: it is frequently merely a way of simplifying our view of the world, and we all do it to some extent…. To the extent that the stereotype is based on experience and is at all accurate, it is an adaptive, short-hand way of dealing with the world. On the other hand, if it blinds us to individual differences within a class of people, it is maladaptive and potentially dangerous. Moreover, most sterotypes are not based upon valid experience, but are based on heresay or images concocted by the mass media, or are generated within our own heads as ways of justifying our own prejudices and cruelty.

Good stuff. You can probably guess the parts I wanted to put in bold, but this time I think I’ll leave it as it is.

I’ve got something against you!
I’ve got something against you!
I’ve got something against you!
I’ve got something against you!

Good song and I am actually listening to it now. OK so it's not quite poetry but the cheeky little guitar intro fills me with the level of anticipation I normally get before I see some action. Good timing :) .

We all spend our lives trying to assert our individuality, running from the harrowing epiphany that we are only special to our mothers.

In a world where we are free to wage war on so many, the key is to pick your battles well. Play to your strengths even if you know that somewhere out there, someone will be able to eclipse your repertoires. There’s enough room for everyone if you find your place.

I spotted a typo in the book. I love it when that happens.

The Pixies- Subbaculture; Something Against You

The Social Animal- Elliot Aronson

A good weekend

2005-08-15T09:53:00.000+01:00

There's a stolen lyric on my mind (I'll take it off if and when you start blogging!):

I went to bed last night and my moral code got jammed
I woke up this morning with a Frappuchino in my hand

I was slightly disturbed last night when a friend of mine asked me if I thought I would ever pay the price for the level of honesty with which we communicated. This worried me for a number of reasons:

as I hadn’t already thought of it, my lack of forethought was dissonant with my self-perception; and
the answer has to be ‘maybe’, or more mildly put ‘you never know’.

I am acutely aware that peeling away layers of one’s mind with someone else is like loading the gun for a game of Russian roulette.

I don’t like the way that using ‘one’ in English is so proper sounding.

A defensive personality doesn’t sit well with the idea of taking such a risk. If you take frequent, digestible risks then I suppose you may avoid the need to take any major ones. If you would rather not take any risks at all then you face the possibility of needing to take an emotional leap into the dark. Unlike most of my friends, I don’t think I have ever taken a leap into the dark without a flashlight. Fuck that scares me.

But on the other hand, maybe I have been taking such risks all along without realising it?
Mmmmm. Should probably do some work.

There’s a fascinating distinction between the person you are and the person you think you are. I have recently been trying to minimise the conflict here, which I suppose is where honesty gets taken to pretty vulgar and extreme levels. I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable with getting such thoughts down in writing. Only so much ammunition that I can offer I suppose.

Most people who are stable think of themselves as reasonable, decent people. I’ve experienced and witnessed the turmoil that occurs when we realise that we have done something the sits uneasily with this. It’s not pretty.

I think I have to stop drinking at some stage. Responsibility for one’s actions and getting hammered don’t always go hand in hand. But if there’s one think I like...

Bollocks- I just missed my mouth and now I have a wet patch on my tie and shirt. I really should do some work. For the record- it’s water and I haven’t started drinking on the job!

Damn, I have some work to do.

Pop

2005-08-12T09:21:00.000+01:00

I hate reality TV but I liked this:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,7-1730928,00.html

Seinfeld isn't that funny

2005-08-12T08:59:00.000+01:00

There are a lot of things on my mind. I want to get to the bottom of them but now’s not a good time. I have been working quite hard this week and the last thing I need is a few hours sat in front of a computer at home.

I suppose if I don’t look at the screen it can’t be that bad for my eyesight?

I am finally a qualified lawyer. I wasn’t going to mention my supposed profession on this blog but who gives a shit? After two universities, two years of working in an office, four different cities in six years, I am finally a qualified lawyer. What does this mean? Probably the biggest mistake of my life, but then why do I have to be so negative about everything?

Well, I asked, so here are some thoughts:

Pessimism as cowardice- pessimists are rarely disappointed. When you expect the worst of people and the worst from every given scenario, it’s difficult to be let down. A lack of courage encourages a lack of optimism. In any case, I am a failed pessimist at that, as I am constantly disappointed by people even though I expect so little from them. Or do I?;
Pessimism as a form of optimism- to steal a friend’s thoughts (and this wouldn’t be the first time), many pessimists are just too damn scared to be optimists (see above) and are actually optimists give or take a layer or two. This helps to explain why I can still be disappointed despite being the most negative person that most people have ever met. By the way, being negative and being miserable are distinguishable and I am not at all miserable at the moment despite these ramblings;
Introversion/ introspection- happiness doesn’t last. With every bit of “great” news I am supposed to have received over the last few years comes the inevitable realisation that there are a limited number of people who are willing to share in your happiness. Happiness in a vacuum is meaningless. No man is an island, and happiness doesn’t like being stranded*. The point is, how long can you dwell on a happy thought? As an introvert with a recessive extrovert personality, the negatives of a given situation or person can occupy the ind much more than a fleeting hapy thought;
Motivation- thinking of the most negative outcome is a fantastic way to lift yourself out of lethargy;
Decision-making: everyone should know my view on decision-making. The anguish that comes with every material decision is not easily managed by anyone aware of the burden that comes with our professed free will;
Fraudulent achievements: God that sounds pretentious. I’ll come to this another day. I had the virgin discussion with a friend the other day and I think it’s worth exploring, as it forms a major part of my personality and insecurities.

As I keep saying (do I protest too much?) I am not a naturally competitive person, but if put into a competitive atmosphere (which I suppose means from the age of 11 to the present day), I know how to fight my corner. That doesn’t mean to say that I don’t carry the scars from every major achievement in my life.* Nothing comes without a cost.

Which brings me to envy. Despite all of the above, I am pretty damn glad that I am who I am. Other than sexual jealousy, which is a topic best left alone for the moment, I don’t envy anyone on anything more than a superficial level. I am, of course, grateful for my good health, without which I wouldn’t be in the luxurious position of making such a statement and meaning it. Anything anyone has has come at a cost. I wouldn’t give up any part of my being to have anything more. I like the delicate balance I have. That said, I remember my Dad telling me that I can’t have everything. He’s right of course but you can die trying and I fully intend to.

What next? Need a new album. Just a sec.

I had an interesting discussion with a friend on a related topic. Although perfection is unattainable, I think there’s still value in trying. Now I sound like Patrick Bateman :).

Man is nothing else than that which he makes of himself…

The entire responsibility for his existence [is] squarely upon his own shoulders.

…we have neither behind us, nor before us… any means of justification… man is condemned to be free.

…feeling is formed by the deeds that one does; therefore I cannot consult it as a guide to action…

Man is nothing else but what he purposes, he exists only in so far as he realises himself, he is therefore nothing else but the sum of his actions, nothing else but what his life is.

In life, man commits himself, draws his own portrait and there is nothing but that portrait. No doubt this thought may seem comfortless to one who has not made a success of his life. On the other hand it puts everyone in a position to understand that reality alone is reliable; that dreams, expectations and hopes serve to define a man only as deceptive dreams, abortive hopes, expectations unfulfilled; that is to say they define him negatively, not positively.

I remember when I was younger thinking about whether actionsor words are more important. By our actions we commit ourselves. The sincerity of what we preach is only tested by the actions and choices we make (in view of others).

I think I’ve made my point for now, albeit through an appeal to authority.

There’s more... I am slowly beginning to understand why I seem to limit myself to the lows and highs of life, missing out on everything else in between. There isn’t any choice in the matter really. It’s either that or live life in a blissful ignorance of the potential wonder that lies behind every interaction.

There’s beauty in complexity. It’s only once you’ve thought through the complex that you can truly appreciate the beauty in simplicity. That’s the whole bloody point of the saying.

We all want to determine the attributes by which we are judged. We all judge others by attributes we consider to be our strengths. Self-awareness is most acutely challenged when even our strengths are easily overshadowed by others.

Anyway, enough for now. It’s Friday tomorrow and a friend is coming to stay for the weekend. Am looking forward to getting battered. I know it’s gonna be another good weekend.

*mental note to write about the overuse of metaphors

Jean-Paul Sartre

So ******* special

2005-08-06T14:49:00.000+01:00

From time to time I have bloody good conversations with all of my friends. I always feel like writing a transcript of them because I know that you can’t recreate them. You have to enjoy them because they’re like a good shag- over sooner that you want them to be. And yes- you want to tell the world that you just got laid.

It’s a wise choice when you take away the possibility of making a wrong choice.

This is a damn good point.

Life is an onion.

I am having new thoughts and I always find it quite painful. Desires are layered and today I was introduced to some useful terminology to help me understand this. Self-discipline seems to have [received a bit of bad press/ taken a nose-dive] in popular culture, and people forget that you can:

Take away the possibility of fulfilling the first order desire in order to fulfil the second order desire.

This is good stuff and I am going to be thinking and wanting to talk about it all day (although I sense that there will be a lack of a willing audience). Progress is being made. Today a friend said to me:

You are right to some extent.

Now he doesn’t often say stuff like that so I can tell that today is going to be a good day all round.

I’ve recently come to realise that I can have differences in attitude to friends and still remain friends. Now this seems like obvious stuff but it’s taken me a number of years to realise it, so it can’t be that straightforward- can it? And even then I think some of these differences are more of a difference in temperament rather than belief.

I am just piecing things together here.

For me, morality has performed a mental leapfrog over the last few years. I think to most people even using the word suggests a morally conservative disposition- but this need not be the case. For the record, as I guess you may have figured, I am pretty conservative when it comes to sexual morality, but even in this prickly realm I think you may be surprised. The point is in any case, what can be more important than right and wrong and the grey in between?

On a separate note, I don’t mind work at the moment even though I am pretty busy. I have made another shocking realisation:

My job makes me feel more alive.

And if there’s one thing I like… You go figure.

On to other things, I am running out of time:

Can you cultivate creativity?

As I dabble with eccentricity I can’t help but feel that everything I do is contrived at some level. Maybe that’s why I like onions. Nowadays I am always trying to just being myself and it’s only relatively recently that I have come to know people as well as I do. I’ve known most of my friends for over a decade and needless to say, that’s a long time. The point is I have no frame of reference.

There's a lot of interesting stuff here that ties in to how we all want to be non-conformist. We all want to be eccentric (within socially acceptable limits of course). Blah blah blah

Anyway, more nonsense soon. Got to dash.

To be finished...

PS- I got one in for you

Nice dream

2005-08-05T14:44:00.000+01:00

It’s 7am and I’ve been awake for a long time. I couldn’t resist looking at the clock the second time I woke up and it was 4.10am. I think this means I’ve only had 3-4 hours sleep allowing for a snooze or two.

My mind is racing. It always will. My hands tied… you get the drift. I’ve used this one before.

I’ve been thinking a lot and now that I’ve finally decided to sit here most of it has gone. I have to admit, and I feel bad for even writing this, but a lot of it has been about women and in particular the ex. Not in an especially upsetting way, but generally in that resentful and bittersweet state of mind that I seem to have chosen as my default position on the matter.

I am better equipped to deal with this kind of shit now than ever before. Sometimes I think I just need an excuse. Sometimes I think I didn’t care as much as I now think I did. I don’t know how I feel about it anymore- I have no idea where truth lies and reinterpretation and self-justification begins.

But to more interesting things anyway. I’ve had a few hours to think about her and 5 months on I don’t think the topic warrants anymore. I can’t imagine my image is disturbing many nights’ sleep.

I am rereading a book on social psychology which is one of the best things I’ve ever read. It scares me to think how predictable and obvious my thought processes are. All I have is what goes on in my head, but if everyone else shares fragments of that too, then the only think that makes me "different" or "special" are the unique proportions that nature and nurture has dealt me.

I tried to bank lots of things that I wanted to get down- and not only because they’d look good. I was having really good conversations with myself (and with others for that matter too). It all seems a little manufactured when I write it up but I swear it’s true. Leave me alone if you don’t believe me!

I’ve been thinking a little about trying harder to preserve my anonymity through this blog. It would be the only way I can guarantee that I don’t massage what I write for an audience with whom I may still need to interact in real life. There are very few people I trust with my innermost thoughts and it scares me to think that I may have to face anyone else who has even come close.

I think it’s about time that I admit that I think that the ex may even read this, even though she promised never to again after the first time she stumbled across it. It’s not pretty but then she should know that by now ;) . Enough on that.

Here are some interesting passages from the book, in the order they appear rather than in order of preference:

Ellen Berscheid has observed that people have a tendency to explain unpleasant behaviour by attaching a label to the perpetrator (“crazy”, sadistic, or whatever [please insert your own!]), thereby excluding him from the rest of us ‘nice’ people. … the danger in this kind of thinking is that it tends to make us smug about our own susceptibility to the situational pressures that produce unpleasant behaviour, and it leads to a rather simple-minded solution of social problems.

The author then speaks of people who take a dispositional view of the world. Guilty I am afraid.

Now on to more interesting stuff:

Is conformity good or bad? In its simplest sense, this is an absurd question. But words do carry evaluative meaning- thus, to be called an individualist or a nonconformist is to be designated, by connotation, as a “good person”: the label invokes an image of… [some heroic American figure]. To be called a conformist is somehow to be designated as an “inadequate” person: it evokes an image of… [people lined up in grey suits- you get the idea].

But we can use synonymous words that convey very different images. For “individualist” or “nonconformist”, we can substitute “deviate”; for “conformist” we can substitute “team player”…

When we look a little closer, we see an inconsistency in the way our society seems to feel about conformity (team playing) and non conformity (deviance)…

The nonconformist may be praised by historians or idolized in films or literature long after the fact of his nonconformity, but he’s usually not held in high esteem, at the time, by those people to whose demands he refuses to conform. This observation receives strong support from a number of experiments in social psychology… [i.e. it’s not just regurgitating what we all know to be true]

I have realised that as I read each point in this book I have a tendency to align myself with the kind of person I want to be rather than the kind of person I may be. As I am always striving to be the monkey I ought to be rather than the monkey I am (I need to stop mentioning my dissatisfaction with the way I am) , this in itself is no bad thing, but it has exposed a few glitches in self-perception. Still, to be honest (or arrogant?), I know myself pretty well which I suppose is why I oscillate between excessively high esteem and mercilessly low self-esteem. I am no Buddhist I am sure you can appreciate (although Buddhism sounds like it may be fun).

My flat-mate’s up so I have just crashed back down to reality.

It’s Friday, it’s nearly the weekend. Looks like you’ll have to wait to read the best bits about conformity.

For the record: I fucking love being alive.

How the West was won and where it got us

2005-08-02T10:17:00.000+01:00

I read this a while ago and thought it was very interesting. I can't attribute it to the journalist because I forgot to jot down the details:

What seems obvious is that the explosive power of adolescent narcissism somehow met up with a detonating ideology. That ideology, I believe, was not Islam per se. Islam is too big, too decentralised, too diffuse, too open to millions of different interpretations to be blamed for the actions of a few men. Islam is only responsible insofar as it constructed — as most religions do — an idealised afterlife for these boys, who in reality have ended their existences as hated lumps of blood and bone.
Rather, I blame the ideology and the psychology of Grievance — the pleasurable, destructive business of imagining that “they” are being bad to “you”, and of therefore calculating every event on that basis. We call it “nursing” a grudge for a reason. We take this aspect of existence and add to it, almost lovingly.

So, last weekend, Azzam Tamimi, of the Muslim Association of Britain, told a rally in London: “My heart bleeds, I condemn it, yes, but I did not make those boys angry. I did not send those bombs to Iraq. I do not keep people locked in Guantanamo Bay and I do not have anything to do with Abu Ghraib, except to denounce it. Politicians, see what you have done to this world.” It’s not me, it’s not us, it’s them. They keep doing bad things to us.

This was brilliantly, if somewhat inadvertently, expressed in The Guardian by Madeleine Bunting. She pointed out the Kashmiri links of most British Muslims, and added: “One of the things they brought with them was the perception of a long history of dispossession and marginalisation.” This “narrative of dispossession” was made worse in the recessions of the Seventies and Eighties. And then, she added: “The more recent oppression and humiliation of Muslims in Iraq and Afghanistan would have resonated powerfully with these collective memories of Yorkshire Muslims . . .”

Note how the “more recent oppression” is supposed just to be a fact. And we know to whom it refers and to whom it doesn’t. The elected Government in Iraq, the Shia majority, the new fact of Kurdish rights in that country, don’t count. All these peoples are de-Muslimified for the purposes of victimology. And that happens because they simply don’t fit the narrative. The Sunnis of Iraq are imagined to be “us”, but the Shia and the Kurds aren’t. The bombed villagers of Afghanistan are “us”, the liberated women aren’t. The Kosovan Muslims aren’t, either, though you can bet they would have been had Nato not intervened to save them. As it is, they too have disappeared from Muslimhood.

This is not some kind of rhetorical point I’m making. It simply is not an accident — in psychological terms — that anything that conflicts with the Grievance is discounted, and anything that contributes to it is emphasised. Consider the narrative of Saddam. There were basically three options. One, do business with him. That equals propping up un-Islamic tyrants. Two, use sanctions against him. That equals murdering Muslim children. And three, topple him. Ditto plus. All options, bar none, are added to the Grievance.

All populist right-wing movements, inciters to violence and hatred, are adept in the language of Grievance. The only way to fight it ultimately is to argue — again and again and again — that it just ain’t so.

I've been thinking a lot about how communities and individuals externalise blame. The internal-external/ us-them distinction is one which I want to rant about a lot but I have to get back to work.

I am reminded of the first time I realised I use the caged-animal/ me-them approach as a self-motiviational mechanism. I was sitting with James on a sunny day on the High Street, taking a rare break from revision for finals. We were trying to figure out why we gave a shit about a bunch of exams that we realised ought not to be an indicator of our worth. It was a good chat.

Funny where you start and where you end up. I like that.

All grown up, nowhere to go

2005-08-02T10:11:00.000+01:00

I’ve been in awe of my friends for a long time. With no disrespect to them, I don’t quite have the same deference that I once had towards them. As I’ve searched for a personality each of them has made a valuable contribution, but now I feel I am finally a bit more than the sum of my parts.

Having been a very different person with each friend along the way, the process of equalisation that I started a couple of years ago is pretty much irreversible. I know it sounds over the top but I think it makes sense. I am glad I started it.

I can't help it

2005-08-02T10:08:00.000+01:00

Here is some stuff I started writing a couple of weeks ago. I am never going to get around to finishing it so here goes:

We reinvent ourselves with every new relationship. Patterns of behaviour are set very early on and they are difficult to change at a later date, although not impossible.

I suppose this is why when you think back to previous relationships, it’s difficult to recognise yourself. Did I really behave that way? Did I really say those things? Did I really ever feel that way? Every reinvention makes it difficult to ever appreciate exactly how you once were.

So, the point is that I only really intend to have (famous last words) one more serious relationship in my life. This is frightening on a lot of levels.

The next time I risk embarking on a relationship I will be very aware that it is an opportunity to make a giant leap toward the monkey I want to be. Incremental improvements in self are fine, but the incentive is much greater when an emotion investment on that scale is involved. If truth be told, I’m shit scared of being with anyone ever again.

Dinner's ready

2005-07-30T19:01:00.000+01:00

You're probably right, seen from your side, that I've been lucky
but I've been meaning to crack all week.
Yes I've been involved, it never resolved into anything shocking.
And pain's spraying oil in my body as we speak.

And now I found something to look for, and I can't decide,
'Cause I might find that to stroll behind is better than to score.
Just like I did before.

It wouldn't be true, not towards you, to say that I'm staying.
When on every single impulse, on every other move I react.
'Cause in any old creek, with changing technique, you'll see me playing.
After any old motherfucking blow I'll be back.

We turned away from instant stuff
our cracking codes were breaking up
our words were sucked out it made them clean.
And after lowness say it
and after more let it be known
Our codes are grown into something mean.

You're probably right, as for tonight, you're making me nervous.
What is it you want me to be thinking of?
I'll put on a movie, I'll play something groovy as a matter of service
And I'll chuckle when you smile as a matter of l*v*.
'Cause you know it's not my style to be giving up now.
And this pain in my side, I had enough.

This time I go for Instant Street
This life's a soulless excuse for all abuse and parenthesis.
The flyspecked windows and the stinking lobbies
they'll remain all the same, all the same.

This time I go. This time I go.

Instant Street- Deus

These things happen

2005-07-29T19:00:00.000+01:00

I am in a fantastic mood. For the first time in 6 months I have my stereo with me. Everyone knows this is my favourite material possession, even though it’s nothing that special. So far this morning I have been through:

Jeff Buckley
Faith No More
Rocket From the Crypt
Weezer

I can turn up the music as much as I want to as I am not in a flat for once. It doesn’t get much better.

I had so much to eat last night that I think I will have to skip breakfast and lunch today. This doesn’t happen often.

I can feel the good mood coming to an end but that’s ok. I’ve got another one planned for later.

You've heard this before

2005-07-28T00:57:00.000+01:00

People today, particularly my generation onwards find it difficult to face up to the problems adult life throws at them. I think part of it my be that we are amongst the first for whom only “happiness” will suffice and anything else is an unfair card that has been dealt to us by some malevolent force.

Of course I can only speak of those in a relatively similar position to myself: literate, capable, and living in relatively liberal societies. Stereotyping can, after all, be a necessary and efficient way to discuss large numbers of people.

Life is a series of ups and downs and that is what makes it worth living. Enjoy the ride and make of it what you will.

We are so obsessed with free will, consumer choice and the right to do all manner of things, that we lose sight of the responsibility that follows from every single choice and decision that we make. I don’t particularly want to get into the debate on free will and I don’t think I have to at this point. If given any thought, the unbearable lightness of being is rather more of an unbearable burden of existence.

I don’t doubt that many people have been dealt a tough hand and that there is a lot that we cannot control.

It seems to me that for many, life has been reduced to a series of pop emotions and hollow interactions. Friendships are too shallow to refuse invitations or give honest answers. Relationships aren’t sacred enough to remain faithful. Opinions are taken from the famous and regurgitated as our own. A healthy deference to expertise has been substituted by an inability to think through anything that challenges our attention deficit thought processes. Ok, time to stop- I am not sure what I am on about anymore.

Adolescence- too verbose?

2005-07-28T00:54:00.001+01:00

In seeking to be the perfect disciple of their faith, many lose sight of the essence of being a good person.

As I suspected

2005-07-28T00:54:00.000+01:00

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/technology/4718249.stm

Life and how to live it

2005-07-27T00:43:00.000+01:00

I am currently storming through “The Origins of Virtue” by Matt Ridley and I thought I’d share a few passages with you in true lazy blogging style. The truth is that once again I find that there is way too much going on in my life to be able to get it down, and to be honest most of it is difficult enough to get clear in my head for a moment, let alone trying to express it in writing.

Also, this keyboard makes my hands hurt (the keys are hardly the most sensitive... [please insert gag]) and I am now nearly used to a foreign keyboard (I am with my parents at the moment) which means this typing thing is much slower. I suppose typing up passages of someone else’s work infringes a few intellectual property laws as well as also making my hands hurt, but it is nevertheless a bit easier on the mind.

The book is fascinating as it touches upon philosophy, psychology, economics, biology and evolutionary psychology. A generalist’s dream.

I have realised that my attitude towards anything I find daunting is to study it. I have spent a reasonable amount of time over the last year reading about l*v* and sexual selection. I think it helped. Well, maybe not ;)

Argh! I can’t write anything that doesn’t make me cringe when I reread it. Maybe the secret’s not to reread.

There are a few things I want to write about but I am not sure I have the patience at the moment. So here’s what I want to write about:

I want to get to the bottom of my emotional claustrophobia when I find myself in pre-determined social circles eg university, work intake etc. I don’t relate to others that well and I hit the jettison button rather quickly. Unfortunately this seems to be intrinsically linked to my repetitive shitting on the proverbial doorstep. Still, there has to be more to it than that, and some day I am going to understand why;
I have been sorting through all of my things back in my old bedroom, and it has been strange going through things I have been given by people I have been involved with. I think I am going to make an “ex-girlfriends” box, although it should be more accurately named the “girls I slept with and never really worked it out with” box. It feels wrong to put all of these things into one box so perhaps I will have one box each- after all, there aren’t going to be all that many boxes;
Ok, so linked to the above but a separate matter- I wanted to write about the closest thing I have ever received to a “l*v* letter” from someone I met over 6 years ago. I only knew her for about 36 hours. It’s pretty fucking cool. Writing this I realise a few of you have actually already read it!;
My temper: now if I started writing about this I could be here for a long time so I should save this one for a better day; and
It’s been a pretty big day for me in terms of family truths and I am slowly getting things off my chest with my parents. It’s tricky stuff as I realise most of my life has been based on half-truths. Again, this is something that would take a day or two and I am not ready for this yet.

So all I wanted to do was to type up some stuff that I find interesting:

…unrelated individuals are acutely aware of social debts…

Think about it: reciprocity hangs, like a sword of Damocles, over every human head. He’s only asking me to his party so I’ll give his book a good review. They’ve been to dinner twice and never asked us back once. After all I did for him, how could he do that to me? f you do this for me, I promise I’ll make it up later. What did I do to deserve that? You owe it to me. Obligation; debt; favour, bargain, contract; exchange; deal… Our language and our lives are permeated wit ideas of reciprocity. In no sphere is this more true than in our attitude to food.

While typing the above passage I had forgotten that it ended with a reference to food. I was thinking about food as I got to the second sentence. I remember hearing once that no country with a McDonalds had ever declared war on the USA. I don’t know if that’s true but I like it. It makes it much more difficult for someone to slag you off if you’ve cooked dinner for them.

This brings me to another point I want to get to the bottom of. Food and cooking and why I ever bothered. Here are some thoughts, the relative importance of which I am not certain:

self-improvement: a general desire for self-improvement meant that I was more than willing to spend hours in the kitchen with my Mum trying to pick up on how to do some funky shit;
university: knowing that I was going to leave home at some stage for university and that I couldn’t live without spicy food, I was determined to learn how to cook for myself. I wasn’t going to allow my appetite to hinder my attempt at independence;
individuality: on reaching university I realised that most of my contemporaries didn’t have a clue how to cook so he ability to cook was readily convertible into a socially desirable skill; and
popularity: easy and cost-effective way to attempt to buy friendship.

Back to the book:

But why do people give each other gifts? It is partly to be nice to them, partly also to protect their own reputations as generous people, and partly too to put the recipient under an obligation to reciprocate. Gifts can easily become bribes.

In the 1960s Marshall Sahlins noticed a rather obvious feature of societies all around the world. The closer the kinship between the person giving the gift and the person receiving it, the less necessary it was that the gift be balanced by a commensurate gift in return. Within the family, said Sahlins, there was a ‘generalised reciprocity’, by which he meant no reciprocity at all: people just gave each other gifts without keeping a count of who owed whom.

Gifts are often given with an element of calculation… There is no such thing as a free lunch. Even in the most sophisticated of European circles, you feel the obligations that comes inseparably with a rich present from somebody.

As my work intake comes closer to qualification, the greed of most people in my profession became even more transparent. Various socialites were recently attempting to organise dinners and lunches to celebrate the end of our two-year training period. This annoyed me for a number of reasons, some of which deserve a mention:

the unlucky: it was incredibly insensitive to those of us who were not offered jobs in the areas we wanted, essentially meaning constructive dismissal. The number of people who were willing to stick to their guns to do something they enjoyed and found interesting was unsurprisingly small. The dangling of the green carrot was enough to reduce their incessant rantings over the previous year to little more than pathetic whinings. Money can’t buy you happiness but it compensates well; and
desperation: I can’t help but feel that some of these people should go and find some real friends to spend time with rather that relying on professional social groups to occupy the time. As Radiohead put it so nicely: These people aren’t your friends, they’d pay to kiss your feet.

But the point I was trying to get to was this: apparently there isn’t a HR budget for us to go and be wined and dined on. I mean, can you imagine? Apparently other firms have been known to have organised extravagant champagne dinners. We have obviously been robbed. And God forbid, did you know, the last intake were given £3,000 to put behind a bar to celebrate their submission to corporate slavery. At a rough estimate that is nearly £100 per spoilt little shit. It’s pretty disgusting stuff.

So the point is- there is no such thing as a free lunch.

(For the record, I have also been guilty of behaving like an ungrateful shit, most recently by making comments on our pretty much non-existent annual “bonus” which is significantly below “market rates”. Surely I have just been running low on conversation subject matter…)

So where was I?

By creating obligation, [the] gift is a weapon… But it is only a weapon if there is a sense of obligation in the first place. Gift giving and competitive generosity is not some human invention that shaped our natures; it is a human invention to exploit our pre-existing natures, our innate respect for generosity and disrespect for those who would not share. And why would we have such an instinct? Because to be known as intolerant of and punitive towards stinginess is an effective way to police a system of reciprocity, to extort zour share of others’ good fortune.

I am reminded of the competitive dinner parties that I hear take place. Bonus points for the host if he can set up a friend with another guest. Halleluiahs if they end up shagging.

Anyway, fucked if I’m going out of my way to cook diner for people I hardly know in the vain hope that we may end up sharing a thought or two. A couple of people have recently asked me when I am going to cook for them. I would love to turn around and say ‘soon after you can be arsed cooking for me’ but I just smile and say that I am getting round to it. I would rather make my friends first and save the food till later. Is that ok or do you think or am I being a tit? I wish I was better than this.

Anyway, I am done going through that chapter.

I don’t know how to say this but I think I’ve fucked up. My attempts at self-worth have backfired and I am back to the drawing board.

Failed romantic gestures now just seem wasteful. Time, effort and money expended to provide a small but supposedly meaningful catalogue of potential generosity.

This is a fraction of what I have to give- do you like what you see?

The Origins of Virtue- Matt Ridley

Caught off guard

2005-07-14T15:19:00.000+01:00

I am in a surprisingly good mood this afternoon. This is down to a number of factors:

The visitors factor:

some friends are coming to visit for a few days and they get here tomorrow.

The Manchester factor:

I am going back to Manchester in just over a week to see the folks and sister;
while in Manchester I am going to catch up with a few friends from Nottingham I haven’t seen for nearly two years;
my flat mate (I still like to call him that although we don’t live in London together at the moment and won’t be doing again for some time) will also be in Manchester which means a lot of F.U.N. to be had; and
I am feeling very proud of being a Mancunian having watched 24 Hour Party People last night.

The lunchtime factor, while I was at home at lunchtime:

I realised I have come on a long way (albeit in a long time) on the guitar;
I made one of the best omelettes I have made in a long time by being more of an ingredient minimalist; and
I discovered a Buzzcocks album and jumped along to it in nothing but my boxer shorts, a shirt and tie (it’s getting hot out here).

The surprise work factor:

I finally have a reasonable amount of work to do which has lifted me out of my office lethargy; and
I realised that I will be doing something more interesting in 8 weeks time!