Enough anger to explode the cosmos

Right then, been a while since I have updated on here, but I feel it is about time.

I am currently feeling stuck between two points; both of them (and yes, that’s right, I am using bunny rabbit ears) “happy”. There is my current state; working an okay job, earning quite a lot of money and going out / experiencing random situations… this makes me happy. There is the past state; working at Waterstone’s with people I love, being with a girlfriend I loved, being comfortable.

I am at the moment unsatisfied. Neither state offers happiness. Yes the past might look good but the job was dead end, the girlfriend turned out to be evil, the now seems fresh and exciting, but fails to live up to expectations….

When I think of the infinite things that are possible; time, space, things beyond our understanding on Earth (even though in reality I have experienced very little) I can’t help but feel stunted and unfulfilled.

Sign of the Thymes (June 2008)

Just a little story I submitted for the “What’s Your Story?” competition at Waterstone’s. Feedback will be very welcome!

October was cold that, and the unsympathetic rain cascading over the windshield did nothing to ease his mood. The sign gradually became clearer with the grumbling of the rusty Fiesta; “The Thymes Bridge”. Pulling slowly to the side of the road, a sigh escaped the driver’s lips. Barely in his thirties, he looked as decrepit as the car; unshaven, unwashed and in dire need of sleep. The headlights dimmed, and the engine died.

Eventually he emerged, gingerly stepping from the car. He pulled the coat tight around his quivering body, a poor defence against such unforgiving weather.

Guilt had made the last three years seem like an eternity, with each visit becoming harder to bear.

Moving to the waters edge, he crept along, pushing his weary body against the elements until he reached the base of the bridge. Stooping, he began a ritual that had played out in his head endlessly, muttering a few private words to himself before tentatively heading back to the car.

Leaning against the bonnet of the car, the man’s head drooped. “I’m sorry”, he whispered, “I’m so sorry”. A few feet away, at the base of “The Thymes Bridge”, the wind and rain beat down on the flowers left by a man with nothing left to lose.

my forehead

My forehead says:

“hbgfvdfgvbngvfcxzxc xdtgyuhgtffghjl,kmb vxzfgvhjmnfdxzzzzzzzzzzzzzc vbbhjkmnh”

The itch to answer a ringing phone…

The pub called again tonight. I tried to ignore it, but it was in tears and begged me, so it would have been cold hearted to ignore. Going to try an abstain tomorrow though. Been looking after it every night for the past two weeks, and it is beginning to take its toll on me.

If the pub is good and can leave me alone for a couple of days, I will treat it on Saturday.

Learning to sew

I decided recently that I needed to learn some more practical skills; bit of DIY, some basic computer knowledge, bits and bobs on how to repair the car without asking a mechanic or my dad. Today’s little life lesson was sewing. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, today I successfully sewed a button onto my jeans meaning I can wear them again without them falling down and making me look silly. I am stupidly proud that I managed to do this without turning to mummy, and I will not have my victory mocked! No sir!

Ode to the job hunt.

Today I went to a jobs fair. Wasn’t expecting much, but I am looking to move into the media at some point, and seeing as they had a media stall listed, I figured I would give it a shot. I arrive to find was was, in effect, a chair with a guy at it. I approach, fill out a quick form to get my CV uploaded onto yet another “CV Matching” website, something I could have easily done at home, baring in mind my CV is currently on countless websites. Then a rather amusing, and yet soul destroying conversation took place, a transcript of which follows:

Me: “Hi, I am looking for a job to start my career in the media”

Him: “Have you considered retraining to become a journalist?”

Me: “Yes actually, although money is an issue. It’s a catch 22 situation of needing a better paid job before I could afford the training”

Him: “Have you considered busking?”

Really? Busking? That is the careers advice companies are offering these days? “Want a career in media? Try Busking!” He might as well have told me just to forget it and live on the streets, swigging from half empty Special Brew cans. Admittedly that isn’t directly what he was inferring, but seeing as I am already working full time, when does he imagine I will have time to buy, learn, and subsequently play on the streets with an instrument? And how does that exactly help me into the media? Sure I might have a little extra cash each month, but certainly not enough to retrain as a journalist. I am trying not to end this post with a string of expletives, so I shall just stop writing.

Additional

Alcohol is evil. Buy one get one free on whiskey is bound to leave a person delicate!

00:01

Very strange… when I was trawling my way through the joys of the education system (G.C.S.E.’s and A-levels, you know the really fun stuff), I would suffer from ‘panic’ attacks. Very strange feeling, just a gripping sense of fear and worry, but they always happened around exam time, I would try to revise, freak out and stop because I didn’t know or understand the stuff I was looking at, but then freak out when I wasn’t working through fear of failure. Needless to say my adolescence was a bit of a pain in terms of switching on and off the computer constantly! Anyway I left all that behind me some five or six years ago.

Tonight however, I had a very pleasant evening of Pizza and Mario Kart, and then out of the blue I am hit with that same rising panic in my stomach, the feeling that all is not right, but I can’t place my finger on it.

Hopefully bed will do me good.

The best a man can get?

Gillette. Now there is an odd product. Back in the days when I would indulge myself in a wet-shave (and subsiquently slice tiny gashes in my face), I would use Gillette’s odds and ends as they were, in my opinion (humble though it may be) the best on the market. My issue lies with their slogan “The Best A Man Can Get…” which is attributed to every single product that they realise. Now how is that physically possible? How can The Mac Three, and the Mac Three Fusion both be the best a man can get? Surely one is better than the other for some reason or other? Surely one is superior?

Stupid advertising…

Retail sucks balls

I have been working in the retail sector now for nearly seven years. The only thing I have learnt for sure so far is that retail sucks balls. Big hairy balls, on a fat man, who has been jogging. The jobs themselves, they aren’t horrific, and there are actually some really nice ones. What it all boils down to are how you are made to interact with the public, and the pay. The pay I don’t need to go into in any great detail…. basically it’s poor, very poor, and that’s how it makes you feel. Struggling month to month is not a nice thing. I don’t like extravagances, but I do like being “comfortable” which is not an easy task on retail pay. The interaction with the public on the other hand… gradually you become a plastic smiling imitation of yourself cooing “Hello madam, how can I help you today?” whilst inside you are screaming at the idiot woman who doesn’t know what she is looking for and expects you to solve it for her, the guy who knows you don’t sell cake bases, but thought he might ask anyway, the teenage kids who just want to use the store as a playground, the single mothers who get arsey because you don’t happen to have the exact thing they want in stock, the old guy who comes up and asks you if you know where he can find someone who can help him, even though you are standing there in your uniform.

I could have summed this up quite easily really… the stuff you have to deal with in retail isn’t worth the money!