Crowning 2013

When the Queen of England sits down to deliver her Christmas speech analysing the comings and goings of the year just gone, I often wonder how much input she has had in choosing the events she speaks about. While it is easy to imagine her stumbling out of bed... OK maybe that's not something any of us should be imagining, but while we are on the subject, why not take a small diversion?

In my head, every morning the Queen falls out of bed, her eyes slowly getting used to her environment, and each time she does she is struck by the sumptuous surroundings in which she laid her head to rest the previous night, a childlike awe must descend across every inch of her perfectly sculpted body. Like an Olympic hurdler, she gracefully avoids several sleeping Corgis and one aging Prince, all laying prone on the carpeted floor.

She makes her way to her first reflection of the day, in her favourite mirror, as it never lies. I imagine she wakes up in the same t shirt she was wearing the night before, with the face of some forgotten rock band on the front. There is saliva around the corner of her lips and the remnants of last night's TV snack still stuck to her sleep soaked t shirt. She looks at her reflection and allows herself a wry smile, knowing full well when the doors of her great room swing open, all hands will arrive on deck to transform her into a nation's favourite granny.

Was that fun?! No? Can you sense I am avoiding a very important question? What size is her bed? Well, whenever you see the Queen, smiling wistfully to herself, attending an event bursting at the seams with her loyal subjects, she must be thinking, "These people haven't a focking notion about the size of my bed!"

So, back to her speech. Each year, the Queen takes time out to run through the events of the year. Picking out the good and the not so good. Each event is one that has made an impact on the world we call home. I thought to myself, I can do that. So let's have a go.

This time last year I set myself some serious goals. I wanted to go out at most once a month on an almighty bender, spending the rest of the time engaging in more relaxed activities, like theater and dinners out with good friends. I also wanted get fit, fitter than I had been in a long time, I wanted to get to a level of fitness where one burger was not going to set me back two months of hard graft. I wanted to read more books and watch more films. Lastly, I wanted to make a difference in a charitable way, I wanted to help out at a soup kitchen or become part of an event.

Oh... and I set myself the task of writing 10 blogs...oops!

So let's get the calculator out and see how I did with the nights out. Maybe it is a better indication if we count the amount of times I went for dinner with my friends or went to the theater. OK, straight away we can drop the notion of the theater...oh no hang on... I dipped the big toe of my right foot into the whirlpool that is English amateur theater and by God was it fun. We all have hidden talents, some are so far hidden we ourselves don't know they are there. One friend's talent was worth a trip to one of the biggest cities in the world. Stand in front of your peers and pretend you are not who they know you to be, and convince them thoroughly that you are someone else. The majority of us will falter, he didn't, as he pulled of an incredibly entertaining and heartwarming piece of acting.

Dinner... tick. There is a lot to be said for a group of old friends sitting around a table sharing stories of days gone by and even more about what the future is likely to hold. Banter, laughter, craic, slagging, stories, throw a hashtag in front of all of them and you have the ingredients of a modern day Twitter sponsored dinner. Pare away the melee of people and face yourself with one friend, something I always thought would be a strange experience. It was, strange in that I wanted more of it. Making time to step off the rollercoaster and shoot the breeze with one of my best friends is something I will always be thankful for. It started with one good friend and before I knew it, I was holding individual court with plenty more individual friends. A smartly managed hour on lunch or a careless attitude to hours post work, it didn't matter, time well spent is time well spent.

Time to stop avoiding the drinking question. I failed, miserably. Not only did I not manage to only partake in one night a month's debauchery, I increased the level if anything. One night on the tear all to frequently became 2, on holidays (of which there were many), that number was known to grow. Like a fine cocktail, the hangovers were mixed with both drama and fun times, shaken and stirred in equal measure. No getting away from the fact I failed in my task, so black mark against me there.

Surely all this drinking must have contributed to a physical shut down not seen since Samson slayed Goliath. Well no, while there were copious amounts of alcohol drank, my fair share of beads of sweat hit the floor. It started with baby steps and the goal of completing a 10k run in under 45 minutes. To my surprise and ultimate delight I managed several baby steps that lead to several kilometers which in turn lead to not one but seven 10k runs. I thought I would hate it, hours of running on a treadmill to prepare for running in wet and windy conditions with no one to take up the slack when I wanted to quit. That was the my biggest challenge, for years I was part of a team, teams where I was the best at times, frequently the average performer and sometimes a passenger. We lived and died on OUR results, on my good days I could walk with pride buoyed by an excellent team effort, on the not so good I could choose to lay blame at someone else's door. I could pick and choose how I had performed.

Not on a ten k run, my time was my time and no one else's. What terrified me drove me onwards as I ran like a mad man towards the finish line with all I had. I found I loved it. Sailing by other competitors while listening to a medley of 5ive, B*witched, Ini Kamoze and Billie Piper to name but a few, brings it's own sense of achievement.

Raising money for a very worthy cause was also part of the sense of achievement. When I came across the finish line under 45 minutes in the Great Ireland run, I narrowly avoided having to match the quite considerable €500+ raised by my friends and family. Seamless as ever, I'm sure you can see where this is headed. That charitable contribution was probably the height of my efforts to help the less well off. So, I'm gonna say another fail. Not one man hour was used physically helping in a new endeavor, therefore task failed.

I have watched more films and read more books in 2013 than I thought I would do, so go me! Pass! Although in recent days I have misconstrued quotes from Scent of a Woman and Scary Movie as general everyday comments. Maybe "must try harder" is more apt.

Crossing the threshold from 2013 to 2014 I have a smug look plastered across my face. If I wanted to complete one task in 2013 it was to spend more time with my friends and family. It is easy with my family, I live at home and they are people I easily spend time with. It is more difficult with my friends, they don't live at home, some don't live in Dublin, some don't live in Ireland, I think you can see where this is going. Alternatively read any number of doom and gloom tales about Ireland's brain drain. I was determined to reconnect with friends no matter where they were.

So from Dublin to Mitchelstown, Atlanta to London, Limerick to Hvar, Zurich to Kinvara, Havana to Barcelona not to mention San Diego, I raise a glass to you all as you gather around my imaginary table in celebration of 2013.

If you played even the smallest part in making 2013 what it was then allow yourself a moments break from whatever it is you are doing and drift away to this.

My Internship: Part 1

I've shied away from my work situation of late, here is a quick summary of some of what I have been up to since late November.

You hear it said that there is nothing worse than not having the time to do the things you want to do. They want more time; time with family, time with friends, time to be alone, time to get more things done. However, I can confirm that there is nothing worse than having so much time but not enough things to fill that time.

I was unemployed and looking for a job, time was the last thing I wanted. With every day that flew by; the hours and minutes began to gather pace and shoot out from my grasp, truth be told I didn't have much use for them as they went by. How many times can you tailor your CV or Cover Letter? Apply for another job? Or contact another recruitment agent? There comes a point when your avenues become exhausted and then all you are left with is minutes and hours to fill.

My job search began with jobs that I really wanted, jobs that were appealing to me. Everyday, Google would be hit with term after term, “Marketing Jobs”, “Advertising Agencies”, “Sports Marketing in Ireland” the list was endless as I scoured jobs.ie, irishjobs.ie and perfectjobsforyou.ie, the last one doesn’t exist but I presumed it did.

Three weeks later, almost every application drew no response. Those that did, trained me on how to scan an email for that most disheartening of terms, “unfortunately”. Interviews were few and far between and I was left disappointed by the ones that did materialise. Time after time I got the sinking feeling that the experience I had built up over the previous two years, working in marketing, was so specific to that particular industry that companies could not see it as transferring to their industry. For the love of the #jobfairy please give me a chance, just throw me in for two weeks and I will prove I can do a good job.

Apparently, that is not how it works. As the weeks turned into months my search for a job became more desperate. Hope was becoming my biggest enemy. I would apply for a job and then sit back and let hope take hold. I would imagine myself in new employment, meeting my new colleagues and settling into a job that would be both rewarding and challenging at the same time. My job search was beginning to shift; jobs that had previously not caught my attention were now receiving an application. I wanted a stepping stone to something better, no matter how disinterested I was in the job.

Christmas was now looming ever larger on the horizon, the thought of doing the twelve pubs, Christmas jumper night or any random night out during the festive period was eating away at me. At no time in the year is everyone in as good a collective mood as at Christmas. How would I survive the countless conversations with friends home from abroad, all about how I still had not managed to convince an employer that I was a right fit for their company?

Then, like the star over the manger I saw a light on the horizon. Hays Recruitment were offering an internship opportunity. To be honest I did not see the word ‘internship’ all I saw was ‘opportunity’. 6 months being trained on all aspects of marketing by the best in the business. The advertisement was full of life, opportunity and sparked something in me. Before I knew it I was sitting opposite the Marketing Manager trying to convince him that I would be a great apprentice and hoping against hope that my previous experience would not prevent me from being considered.

That is where we will leave it for this week, please do come back for part 2. I guarantee a twist in the tale worthy of a Dan Brown novel. Ok not quite, but there is a twist!

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!