Revolution Through Resolution

Put your behind in your past, or put your past behind you. Both make sense in my book. Sit on your past, squish it, in the great scheme of today and tomorrow it is the least important. Then of course, putting your past behind you is not a bad idea, sure when you fall back today or tomorrow at least it is there to support you, catch you even. You can run from it, or learn from it. Let's try and learn from it.

In the days when Joey Barton complicates our perception of him with philosophical quotes from Friedrich Nietzsche, George Orwell and Joseph Barton, it is easy to overlook the teachings from the great Disney works of the past. For Timon, Pumba and Rafiki have already influenced where this little ramble will rumble.

2012 was an interesting one that started off in the usual fashion. The first three months were like every other year, then things started to unravel. By September it was as if I was back to square one. No job, back in the family home, relationships ended, sure what else could possibly go wrong?! Thankfully all this resulted in nothing more than an unfortunate change in circumstances and a resolve to start again and accept the challenge. 

If 2012 taught me one thing it was that I need to take responsibility for my actions. It is too easy to go out on the tear and just lounge through the following day when I know all my pond dwelling birds of leisure are not perfectly aligned. While I did not lose my job through much fault of my own, I certainly did not do everything in my power to ensure I placed myself in the best possible position to fight back. Though I'm not sure I believe in karma etc I doubt I did a huge amount to bring the best of this mysterious aura my way. On the 31st of December 2012, I am left with an overriding feeling that I just let 2012 happen.

So in 2013, let me see if I can take the hull by the borns and do things differently. There will not be any major changes but a few small ones that might make things more exciting and push the envelope as they say in the world of the X Games, winter and summer. I don't think I am a bad person, but I wonder how good I could be.

Starting with the dreaded drink, I am going to cut it down to one night out a month, and by night out, I mean hell for leather night out. There is nothing better than being on the complete tear, letting what is left of my hair down and doing what I do best, saying the wrong thing to the right person. Complete abstinence, while unbelievable for the body and soul would be detrimental to the craic, and as they say craic is central to our being (*WARNING* this may never have been said). A couple of times during 2012 I went to the theater and then went for a few drinks or dinner, it was glorious, I want more of that.

Movies, I have not seen enough movies. I am sick of not recognising film references while only being able to provide the Lion King's many incredible scenes as my own reference points. Ironically, I have become quite a good actor when it comes to pretending I know what scene has just been referred to by a seemingly movie laden friend of mine. I have never watched Jaws, but I do however know, that "We need a bigger boat". 2013 will be the year I catch up on all the films I should have been watching in my previous incarnation as the exact same person with limited film knowledge.

One thing I despised about 2012 was my complete inability to get fit, every time I thought I was on the verge of getting my Olympic place something would get in the way. That something was normally a pint or burger or several pints and a Supermacs meal. I'm not going to cut them out, that would be detrimental to the Irish food and beverage industry and I for one take my responsibilities seriously. Instead I will continue my Trojan efforts with the aforementioned industry while combining it with a burning desire to improve the wares of the health and fitness clubs of my locality. Yes, I am going to go for 3 visits to the gym a week.

I need to read more books. I have read some really god books, books that are not just page turners, what book isn't?! What I want from a book is that feeling of being stuck to the book. Kind of like when I am looking at a box of chocolates and I say this is my last one and then ten chocolates later I still have not stopped eating, that's what I want in a book. That feeling of guilty pleasure you get from reading on but knowing it is ok because for years we have been told that there is knowledge in them there pages. One thing I will not be doing is quoting any books I read in great detail, by holy figures of the religious realms that annoys me. "Such and such a person said such and such a thing and therefore I am repeating it to you", get your own opinions, and before you start, quoting the Lion King is completely different, it's not a book of course.

I want to take up a good cause. I want to volunteer at a soup kitchen or help a charity in someway. Once a year at Christmas I leave the leafy suburbs to deliver hampers with my family to those in much need. Every year I am struck by the grateful faces that open the doors, by the freezing, bare houses and the scantily clothed children. Every year I resolve to do more to help, every year I don't. It is not because I want to feel better about myself, or that I think I can change the world. I think the world is pretty much now the way it is going to be for the rest of my lifetime, so why not help when I can. 

We spend a lot of our time wishing it away, in 2013 I am going to try and wish it back into my hands and do something with it. If there is a movie I should see or a charity I could help, or an event that could fill the other nights of my life that are not occupied by the hell for leather night out, then get in touch. 2013 could be quite good craic, I'm looking forward to it already!

Happy New Year!

Like Me

Today I was shocked to hear that Irish people do not tell jokes. A non Islander, colleague of mine, (yes I am of the employed variety, but more of that another time. I will take the congratulations graciously and bestow my thanks for your kind wishes in return) tells me that Irish people are not funny or at least do not have fun. I was bowled over. "Explain!" I exclaimed, excitedly exiting my exfoliating contraption (poetic licence?! Chair)

Whatever could she mean? Did she mean that Irish people do not tell endless formulaic jokes to each other ranging from chickens crossing highways to all manner of nationalities and members of the cloth entering bars? Or are we simply a serious race with way too many other things to worry about? I did what any logical human being would do, I demanded of her, "What do you mean?". Having composed herself as two sets of Irish eyes peered down at her, my Irish colleague suddenly pricked her ears, ready to cry foul. She explained calmly that in the work situation Irish people were very serious, that banter was scarce and that they just got on with their work with minimal fuss. 

I was very surprised, while the work environment is undoubtedly very busy and there are few openings for craic, it seemed strange that we came across in this manner. I put up a fight, "Am I not funny? Do I not make you laugh? Am I serious and hardworking? Careful how you answer that last one!" Again, with utter politeness, it was explained that I was one of the few that looked to have a laugh at almost every turn, but in general this was not the norm.

That got me thinking, why isn't everyone looking to have a joke and a laugh? Would it be so difficult to do? And why, why oh why, did I appear so offended at the thought that someone might not find me funny, uproariously hilarious even?!

I struggle in serious conversation. It takes a lot of concentration, trying to keep up with the other person's logical train of thought is a challenge. Don't get me wrong, I can do it, and I have done it and will continue to do it but God knows the amount of times I have thought of something funny to say in the most serious of situations. I was at an interview recently, admittedly a relaxed styled interview, held in a bar. It was going well, I was engaging in conversation, I was suggesting ideas and I was even asking questions. The interviewer was explaining something to me and I was wondering if at twelve o'clock we would have our ties round our heads, dancing the mambo with way too many pints on board. Cue drastic snap back to reality as I scrambled to catch up with conversation. Maybe I just like the challenge!

I have often wondered why I take it so personally when my sense of humour is called into question. I suppose it is some kind of defence mechanism, I want to hide behind humour because I don't want people to see the real me. I deflect attention away from myself with a smart remark here and a cheeky comment there, hoping no one will look deep into my eyes and see I am a tortured soul behind it all. That is of course the easy pop psych analysis.

The truth is a lot less interesting. I just enjoy a laugh, I love to have a joke. It fills me with energy and that is how I get from morning time to night time. I step over the line, I say things I shouldn't and do plenty that is not wise. If I was using humour as a defence mechanism I wouldn't care if people mentioned it or not, it is not part of me so it wouldn't bother me. I would like to think that once you get to know the real me that fun and laughter are part and parcel. I guess it is something important to me so I defend it rather than it defending me, funny that.

But enough about me, are we as a nation serious and dull? I beg to differ. I have numerous friends, ranging from men all the way to women. Some I have known since I was the age I am now and others I only met when I was in primary school. There are lots of them, people I would trust with my life, people I would go to in the most drastic of situations knowing they would and could help and people I just bloody well enjoy spending time with. There is huge variety in this group of people but the one thing that remains constant is their ability to share in a laugh and a joke.

Maybe the work place has become more serious since I was there last. Maybe it is time for me to change my ways in such a professional environment. I reckon today will be a defining day in that theory. Why, you ask? Well, today I will bring 

• 4 Dip Dabs
• 1 Bumper Bag of Drumsticks, Refresher bars, Love Heart, Fruity Pops, Mr Chews (I have just read, "contents may not include all those shown")
• 3 Kinder Surprises
• 1 Large Box of Pic 'n' Mix
• 3 Sherbert Fountains
• 2 Wham Bars
• 2 Refresher Bars
• 5 Freddos

That should put a smile on everyone's face! 

Confident Compliments

I grew up on a small island, where everyone knows everyone. That is to say, I know your business, you know mine. It is a great country, still today can you walk down the street and make eye contact with everyone you pass and not feel as though you have gently caressed your opposite number in places they may have no need, want or desire to be caressed. 

We are a friendly little island, this is not to say we have not been affected by the monstrous invasion of personal technologies onto our highways and bye ways, we have. But where others might embrace the ability to block out the sounds of the outside world, replacing everyday's symphony of sounds with Beethoven's fifth, our shrewd nation drop the sound right down, and on the train or the bus, we go about what we do naturally. So, while our fellow traveler is deep in juicy conversation with their previous night's lover, we, with earphones firmly implanted in straining ears, under the shadow of musical enjoyment, pick up another tit bit of info to be used at a later date.

Compliments are the oddest of creatures. They are designed to lift the recipient, but not too much that they levitate to an exalted position. Just enough to give them a boost but there is always the reproach stored in the psyche for that most awkward of chance occasions. The receiver takes the compliment, gorges on it, spreads it around their body, seeping through their veins. The compliment is doing what it shouldn't, it has gone too far. It is out of control, the recipient is experiencing surges of energy to parts of their body dormant for years, walking ten foot tall now, they take on all tasks and dominate. 

It goes something like this.  Compliment giver, "Hey, I haven't seen you in ages, you look great." "Why thank you. I've been in the gym working really hard, eating all the right things, I've stopped drinking alcohol and now I only cycle when I'm feeling lazy, the rest of the time I run everywhere", replies the recipient, misunderstanding the compliment. "You don't think you are overdoing it? Now that I think about it you do look a bit gaunt, nothing a huge steak and good night out wouldn't fix". Tables completely turned in one fell swoop.

I have spent time in other countries, one super power in particular, where their offspring are showered with compliments from the day they are born. "Well done for eating your dinner", "Super job on peeing", "Mummy is so proud of you today for doing what you were told". These children grow into adults who can command any social situation with confidence. They can walk into a room and instantly strike up a conversation with a stranger, supremely confident in their ability to converse in a coherent way. From my island they do not come.

I was back in a classroom situation for the first time in a long time recently. I walked into the room like I was walking onto a yacht, except this yacht was very old and the floor was in danger of disappearing at each step, or so it would appear from the way I approached my entry. So head down I proceeded carefully to the nearest free seat. Jacket off, bag down, bag open, notes out. Take out the phone, check for messages I know have not arrived, phone away. Then and only then, when I have only an imperceptible amount of sweat on my brow do I take my first tentative look around at my fellow classmates, sizing them up, like a polar bear that has encountered a penguin.

The first opportunity to speak is a harrowing time. What is your name and where do you work? "eh...I work in my name is and I'm from eh... that is all". That is what it sounded like, if anyone in the room could have heard it. Lunch time. Oh Jesus, talking to people I don't know. Ok, just pretend like you know them. "I used to love when the Christmas catalogue came through the door, I would spend ages reading it at breakfast when I was a kid". I said this to a woman that works for a massive Homeware and Fashion online store with a paper catalogue. "Why were you reading our catalogue as a kid?" "No, I meant the toy catalogue!" Why have I just told this perfectly reasonable woman that I read a toy catalogue as a child? Little did I know that this experience would stand to me nearly 30 years later.

Despite all this, I love my island and it's people. If you are from here don't get carried away, when I say love, I mean like!

Smile

Physically, as I have said before, I am not female and I have less than 30 years experience on these vast plains. It is time for another piece in the jigsaw of my being. I have a smile. One that is wide, and bright and white. A more useful tool I will never know. My long, flowing locks will grey and fall, my imposing, athletic physique will shrivel and crumble and my confident stride will become a mere shuffle. If I am left with only my smile I will be a happy man and you will see it on my face.

When you smile the world smiles with you, and there are few things more satisfying than making the world smile. Whether it be the little old lady who at first is nonplussed with the holding of a door, smack her between the eyes with a bit of shining white and she will bound through that arch. What about the lad you accidentally meet eyes with across the crowded DART, instant reaction is to look away embarrassed because... because nothing, you looked at someone and they happened to look at you. Next time, as R Kelly might say, "Stand up tall, look 'em in the face and Smile".

If the eyes are the windows to the soul then the smile is a reflection of your sense of fun. I never want to lose my smile because once that goes then it will herald the sad demise of my sense of humour, and with that will go the very fibre of my being. As we become more and more distant in this ever changing world I reckon our base functions keep us human. A three year old farted on me recently, she told me as much and then burst out laughing. A smile cracked across my visage as the joy such a simple act brought to her face became apparent. Once the ripple of laughter and gas spread through the room there was not a sullen face to be found.

I remember once a friend said he saw me wandering through campus with a big smile on my face. He said he laughed as he imagined the kinda thing I was thinking of. I never told him, partly because I was ashamed and partly because I liked the idea of him thinking of the random things I might be thinking. If the random nonsense was making me smile then hopefully it was doing the same to him.

It was Barbie Girl. Barbie Girl by the Danish-Norwegian Behemoths of Pop that we know and love as Aqua. I was walking through campus, minding my own business, listening to my Creative Zen, when "Hiya Barbie..."

Hope Solo

Hope springs eternal, that is what is said. It always seems to be said by those in no need of Hope or those who are trying to bring cheer to the heavy heart. I have no doubt, in fact I know that Hope does spring eternal, but just once in a while I wish it wouldn't. Not because I yearn for the day when I am a hopeless being with no interest in the future and an unhealthy obsession with the past, but because Hope can be cruel, like a cruel summer without the catchy melody. It all starts with the daily application for a job that will rock my world.

"Dear Sir/Madam/Gargoyle/Professional whose reply button has been deleted". It's pretty alarming how quickly a Gargoyle came into play here but I imagine many of my applications have fallen on the desk of the stoney faced ones. Maybe one day the wind will catch said application and bring it to the feet of Quasimodo who will take pity and inspire Hope in one fell swoop and I will be Head of Marketing at Disney's Mingers Model Agency. I digress, the usual turn of things is that the application is sent and then I sit back and let Hope take hold.

It grabs me by the scruff of the neck, the seat of my pants, the cuffs on my sleeves and the soles of my shoes. Hope sends me to a magical world where I have aced not one but two interviews and am now sitting at my new desk, surrounded by my new colleagues, wondering where the stationary cabinet is (I've always wanted to work in an office where the stationary cabinet is on wheels). I am doing all the things specified in my job spec, and more. After work drinks, the tag rugby, Christmas parties, the banter at the water cooler are all part and parcel of a job that challenges me to push myself to my limits, and I love it!

In any missing persons search they say the first 48 hours are crucial. I take the same approach to the job search. Once the first 48 hours is up the Hope fades, the dream dies and another office is without its movable stationary cabinet. I've experimented with applying for jobs I don't want, just to see if hope leaves me be. Not at all, Hope sees it as a bloody stepping stone to something bigger and better.

Maybe the job application process would be better done naked, that way Hope would have a harder time grabbing me by the scruff of my neck, the seat of my pants... you get the idea. Nothing better than the idea of me naked at my laptop to brighten the day, and scare off Hope!

Time

This is the first time I have written a blog, I have decided I will stick with it for at least ten blogs. Whether you, the reader (in this case), will stick with me is optional, debatable and highly unlikely. The reason I am writing this blog is to further enhance my creative writing but also responding to a dear friend's imploring words, encouraging me to dabble in the murky world of the blog. She told me she follows one blogger in particular who is so depressing she has thought of unsubscribing from the blog, drastic times, desperate measures.

An introduction, I am not female, I have under 30 years experience on this mortal coil and I do not have a job. This is how I see myself, when I am trying to be aloof and vague. The jobless world is a completely different one to anything I have ever experienced. The flowers still grow, the sun still shines and the prices are still set at exorbitant but there is a tinge of grey hanging over everything. It is not black, because that would be too obvious and in your face and it is not red because that would be alarming. It is grey because you don't immediately notice grey, it just kind of hangs there and then you remember.

Everyone has the Monday morning blues. That feeling of having to get up and go through it all again until Friday afternoon's bell tolls and you trundle off to reacquaint yourself with your social buddies, your bed and your favourite tipple that makes you eventually topple. The Unemployed Monday Blues are similar in ways but different in others. You do get up to do the same things you did last week, but they bring no joy. There is no fun to be found in filling out the same application for a different job, for answering the same question framed with a different topical question. One application recently asked me how Jacob's get the fig in the fig rolls, I work in Marketing I am not a tasty treats engineer. I presumed they were looking for a witty reaction, demonstrating some outside the box thinking, I didn't hear back from them so perhaps I presumed wrong. Another asked me to state my favourite advertising campaign of 2010. Interestingly, "strong attention to detail" was a requirement to work with this particular company. Now, either they were looking for a Marketer with a strong memory or they are severely lacking in people with "strong attention to detail". I await their response, or lack there of.

When you have no job to go to, time is something that becomes your enemy. While it has only been two months since I worked, it has already been two months since I worked. See what I did there. Time absolutely flies by at a scary rate, the longer the replies to job applications don't arrive the longer I feel I am hurtling closer and closer to 21/08/2019. That is the date my Social Welfare Card expires. Do they know something I don't?! Surely I will have a job before 2019, God knows how many 2 month periods that is! Needless to say I haven't been applying for jobs in Mathematics!