Wednesday, 30 September 2009

Perspiration to the nation

In the first of what is likely to be a series of drunken Wednesday night blogs, similar to those I published under a slightly different pseudonym while down in Brighton, let me start with a discussion of that most disgusting, yet most natural, of juices, sweat.

No one can physically stop themselves from getting wet and salty, as it's the body's way of cooling itself down. Some people can't produce the right enzymes, some animals weren't even born with the glands capable of producing such liquids, but it is taken as a given that everyone, at some stage in their life, will find the atmosphere too stuffy or the company far too arousing.

Or will be unable to moderate their behaviour to the extent that they prevent themselves from getting excited.

The last couple of days we've made the most of Hockey training, pushing ourselves as far as we were willing to at the start of this campaign, bolstered by a belligerent attitude from our captain (something that in the past has been lacking big-time.)

On winning on Saturday it was only fair that I took my own desires to the pitch to ensure that the new crop, and the returning old heads, would do much the same in order to not only prevent relegation but genuinely contend for the top spot. Regardless of whatever the other teams in our league are capable of, we're more than able to go for promotion this year (in both Club and University leagues), so my Geography work may go on hold to prove this point.

It won't. But at least I care enough now to jeopardise not only my current life by my future career opportunities by believing so strongly in something. That's not what the previous blog managed at all...

Before I start rambling, this is just a brief update to suggest that the Freshers we have inherited this time around are a good bunch from what I can make out, and that provided the Committee don't let power go their heads we could have a good, solid year from which we can build on.

In the meantime, I've got a lot of fieldwork to do and no risk assessment yet signed off to allow me to do this. I also have to call the farms within the next 24 hours to make sure I can come up and do my stuff. I may have to produce a questionnaire in order to finalise my work. I hate human Geography.


Friday, 25 September 2009

The possessiveness of mankind

One week into the tenancy of my year-long contract to spend with my new flatmates, who I have already decided are infinitely better than the ones I spent 8 months with in Brighton, I still cannot stop myself from thinking, 'well that's mine'.

Perhaps it's because that first experience scarred me so much, perhaps it's because inherently I'm just as selfish as anyone else and refuse to openly admit it. Perhaps it's because I fear that if I don't keep telling myself that I'll eventually fall into one of those 'traps' whereby I suddenly think that the world isn't so bad.

And this past week might have me think just as much.

I have come to realise, and this might yet be hasty so bear in mind that I've only been away from the relative weight of family for a week at this stage, that not all people at University are as they seem. Some of them are a lot more genuine than I first thought. Some of them were just difficult to get on with because I was so concerned by making my own feelings heard. Perhaps I was too quick to judge (in the case that I've only known these people a few months, perhaps a couple of years, rather than on and off my entire life).

The ones that have shown themselves to be good are those that I was wary of, but now I have found myself to be exactly like them. I'm canvassing a vote before I've even started campaigning, and they just started a little earlier than me. Whether that makes me an arse or whether that makes me normal I don't know; the world I currently exist within makes me out to be a politician whether I like it or not. Diplomacy tends to be the only way to end an argument that never should have started if we were all a little more open in the first place.

But then that's much like life in general. If we never say what we are thinking, or struggle to portray exactly what we mean, then we're bound to cause upset or unrest when we finally seem to 'explode' into a tirade of apparently unprovoked opinions set at someone's throat. We might not necessarily mean them, although in my case I stand true that everything I've said before I've meant at the time, if not as a permanent belief, but nonetheless we say them and get on with our lives. If we don't vent then we only end up causing serious damage to ourselves, so my selfishness is born out of a desire to make the world a better place in the future. In my opinion. Because in my opinion, of course, the world is a better place with me than without me.

And perhaps that relates back to my earlier point. Washing up pots and pans and clearing out cupboards, albeit briefly, earlier this evening I must have stumbled across what I now apparently see to be a profound metaphor for life: I'm possessive over my things because I'm selfish, and I'm selfish because I'm selfless; I give almost everything I have to other people, and I sometimes feel as though it comes across as though I only want their love rather than what's best for them.

I want to believe that I'm doing it out of compassion, like the Dalai Lama has taught me so far this year, but I reckon it's because at the heart of any situation I find myself in I always turn to what's best for me. It just so happens that it also helps more people than it hurts.

Utilitarianism is hard (not just to spell!) It requires more statistical analysis in every aspect than is always necessary or justified, whilst also causing more suffering than it's worth in most cases. In this most recent case I know that in my heart of hearts I wouldn't change a thing, although in the past that has not always been the case. If it comes back to me in a bad way then so be it, but honesty is the best policy, and if unfortunately your honesty comes at a price then perhaps you should change what you genuinely believe in, or perhaps stop believing in anything. Ideas are all the world has ever been based on, not opinions to be forced upon others.

It is not my place to judge you; I'm no higher being, merely a boy with a blog, a man with too much time on his hands. If you've found my comments to be out of place then perhaps look within before responding. If I'm wrong then I'm wrong. At the end of the world there is no right answer, only the finality of existence, as we know it anyway. Don't let the little things bother you.

Anyway, they're only words. And what did words ever do to you?


Wednesday, 16 September 2009

Struggling to be funny

Making people laugh is VERY tricky, especially doing it consistently without feeling like you're resorting to lowest-common-denominator jokes or situations (such as falling over and injuring yourself or saying things loudly in stupid accents or broken speech.)

I'm lucky enough to have a girlfriend (yes, that'll usually be a lucky situation for me given that I am almost impossible to tolerate for more than 10 minutes) who laughs at almost everything, which is grand, but I still want to take that and make everyone else chuckle just the same. It's annoying and sometimes impossible, and given that I am not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed and don't know enough about anything in particular to delve into something so deeply that everything is witty it makes it even more frustrating on my part.

I'm happy to sail around the social world, jumping in with small comments that make me sound at least half-smart, but I would much rather be able to say them and choose not to, knowing that I would be adding them all up and arrive with something incredibly hysterical later on. Timing is everything, in more than just this small aspect of our existences, and I am afraid, friends, that my time is either yet to come or flew by long ago.

Perhaps when I was in Brighton I missed my chance to really go for it. Perhaps the fear of failure was more daunting for me than ever it was before, perhaps I'm genuinely terrified about what people in the world actually think of me. Perhaps I would much rather be the centre of attention than the star attraction, if you catch my drift.

I will, for now at least, try to be the quiet one. I don't really have anything clever to say for the most part anyway so I may as well sit back, think about things and work out the best line to take when questioned or pushed on any issue. Perhaps I might actually be good in diplomacy, again not because I make the right decisions but instead because I don't make any decisions, and I only formalise opinions once my paycheques have stopped coming and I've attained all the titles I hoped to achieve when setting out my stall.

Like everyone else in government, I'll remain quiet and end up a servant of her majesty's highest honour because I kept my charity private and my profile obscure. I towed the line; I was scared to veer off into the employment wilderness, the public metropolis, and come back stronger, more popular, more loved, more admired and more revered. Because in the end, it's not what people think of themselves but actually knowing that they did as little wrong in their life as possible, that the mistakes they made couldn't be avoided, or they knew would bring with them consequences that they could handle, and in the end would move them to more success in the long run.

But then, everyone's selfish when they can't share a gift. And I can't share laughter, so I'm taking it away from everyone else too.


Tuesday, 8 September 2009

The new slang

It's been almost three weeks since I was last able to write down a briefing of my life, but having been told that I was a little too candid for my own good my hand was forced into shutting down the previous, infamous (or at least in-obscure) blog. So please brace yourself as I attempt to put down what I hope to achieve with this new title.

1) I will attempt to portray what it's like to live a pretty average life. While almost everyone in the 'blogosphere' (I agree with Charlie Brooker when I sudder at the thought of that term as the correct one for this form of communication) does this, mine is packed full of anger and controversy. However, now that I am living away from home I will at least try to be more thoughtful and considerate when I attack my prey.

2) I will make some generalisations without any references or justification. Essentially this is the same as before, but I feel that in the last four years I've gotten to a place that allows me to appear apparently informed.

That's about it for now, but I have to warn you that you WON'T like what you have to read, you WON'T agree with much of it and you're likely to want to harm me for the fact that I am:

a) pretty Conservative, both in Party and personal politics.
b) a tiny bit racist, although I feel I am able to embrace that as part of my personality (the same way that 'reformed paedophiles' now operate tour buses in London - see Brasseye)
c) lazy and depressed

There's more, but I have perhaps rushed this first entry simply because I cannot stand the idea of leaving it any longer before airing my views. That has been a drawback in the past, but no longer. I hope.


P.S. If anyone does want a full catalogue or perhaps only random months of the previous blog ( then just get in touch with me here and I'll send them over; I've archived them for later in life when I'm famous enough that someone might read my memoirs.