I'll be honest, I haven't done a lot this week. After the fantastic weekend I experienced in Manchester, where we experienced new places, and gentlemen tried and failed with firework salesmanship, this week was never going to live up to it. In contrast, I haven't really put enough emphasis in trying to make things work for myself. Story of my life? I'm afraid so. Tomorrow is hopefully the beginning of another journey, and a journey I would like to be successful, but honestly? I'm not very certain it will work out. I'm afraid it's a recurring pattern, but it's the self-confidence and the confidence in my own ability that I seriously struggle with. I've tried looking for things to improve this side of me, but on a day when all you can see is dark skies and no light at the end of the tunnel, this is rather difficult.
However, this evening, I settled down in front of the TV, (as I have tried to escape the same humdrum of waking up and spending the day on the laptop), to watch 2 very different programs. I know. The meer fact that I think "variety" is changing from a laptop screen to a TV screen, shows the progress I'm making at the moment. However, I did take a trip to library earlier and came back out with Marcus Trescothick's autobiography. Anyway. First of all, I watched 'Celebrity Juice', which is, by far, the most outrageous "tele show on tele". Tonight's episode was a cracker, before turning over to BBC One to watch the rest of 'Question Time'.
You should all know the format. 5 politicians, on a panel with David Dimbelby, (or however you spell his name), take questions from an audience and debate the issues of the week. Most of the time, we are treated with a panel of one from each "mainstream" political party, who go about dodging questions and try and knock down the other political parties with facts and figures, along with a mad-cap far-left extremist and some randomer from the world of sport, literature, the arts or any other field that takes to the BBC's fancy. Usually, it's a show I would not bother with, as nothing gets debated properly, and no questions are actually answered. Unless, like tonight, Nigel Farage is on the panel.
Nigel Farage, is the person that most people would put in the, "mad-cap" category. The extreme views of this man are likened with the disgrace that is Nick Griffin, but in a non-racist capacity. In my opinion though, Nigel Farage is the greatest politician to have ever lived. Forget Churchill, or Blair, Farage is the only politician in my lifetime who actually answers questions. He doesn't hold back, and he is completely honest, even if it makes him or his party look bad, and it is this that I can hugely respect. He spends most of his time in Brussels, berating the European Parliament for being un-democratic, (of which it is), and telling the ministers of this un-elected council to stop telling us what to do. Because he is the polar opposite of what a politician should do, he is viewed as "extreme". But he is the best politician we've got, and after the sham that the Lib Dems thrust upon us after the last election, and the Tuition Fee fiasco, my vote may well go to UKIP!
Especially when I was listening to the rest of the panels views, Farage sounded like the only one who knew what he was doing. The no-hoper that Labour had sent along, Gloria De Piero, sounded more like a disgruntled Mum at a PTA meeting. They would have been better off sending Alessandro Del Piero. He probably would have more knowledge on British politics aswell... Iain Duncan-Smith, the former leader of the Conservatives, was slumped back in his chair, trying to avoid questions and generally not wanting to be there, Lord Fellowes just bellowed his way through nonsensical argument and the Lib Dem MP, Jo Swinson, tried to cover her growing nose as she tried to cover up the lies her party had produced in May last year. Farage spoke sense. And he is the only politician who does.
And then they wonder why people aren't interested in politics, and thus, have switched off halfway through this very blog post you're reading... Wakey wakey!
I suppose I should go to sleep. I have to get dressed up in a suit tomorrow to go and watch a few presentations on the Metropolitan Police Service Special Constabulary. To many of you, it may sound boring, but to me, it could well be the start of a new door opening. But then again, it could be a glass one and I could walk straight into it, face first. You just don't know.
Friday 28 October 2011
Monday 24 October 2011
Sensible Me
The tradition of eventful weekends in Manchester was just about kept alive this weekend, but for once, I was very much out of the ascendency as a certain Colin stepped up to the plate to let loose and bruise Manchester.
I was excited, as is usual, on the Friday as I set off for the long walk to Sainsbury's to meet Colin. No, I did not walk all the way to Manchester, as that would have been silly. It was a long old journey to Sainsbury's, passing a group of 12-year old weed smokers, that show the absolute worst of Bedford society. I was even re-directed by a randomer back to the gym, as she thought I was going to the gym with my huge bag. No love, I'm off to get wasted.
After waiting for an age for Colin to finish his shift and then get ready while I bought him a crate of Sol Campbell, we jumped in the car belonging to one of Colin's friends, and drove as quickly as possible to Milton Keynes station, where we were due to jump on the 6.50 train to Manchester Piccadilly. We made it just in time, sacrificing Colin's ankle along the way, and relaxed and spoke about what the upcoming weekend had to offer. Literally anything was on the cards, given the previous experiences in this wild and vibrant Northern city. We arrived fairly late on the Friday, which is standard procedure, and immediately got the ball rolling. Friday nights are traditionally "5th Av" nights, given the taste of music, but this time there was a special event on at a place called 'Avici White'. It sounded modern, and it was, and I was looking forward to it despite the £5 entry fee. Upon leaving, I was at a good rating on the drunken scale, and despite the taxi driver not knowing where he was going, we arrived in pretty good time and enjoyed a good night. Everyone got very drunk, (some more than others, with me at the bottom of the list). The highlights of the night were the huge relief of finding Billie's "stolen" camera and... we'll leave it at that. I think something a bit controversial happened, but seeing as I was well out of the way, it would be wrong of me to speculate! At the end of the night, (I think it was around 3.30am by this stage), I ushered everyone into a taxi and we made the long trip home. Beddoe's new house is a bit out of the way from his last, so every trip took a good 20-30 minutes. As we walked, (or stumbled), into the house, I settled down on one of the two sofas, discovering, to my delight, that they were infinitely more comfortable than the slabs of concrete and sponge at Beddoe's old house, and I think we talked for about an hour about nothing in particular, before falling asleep at 5am...
Some people awoke on Saturday morning, (or afternoon), with quite a hangover, but not me! It's always good when that happens, and I think the plan for the day was to travel another long journey to the Arndale to get some food, and do a bit of shopping before the agreed Nando's to line the stomach before another night of craziness.. I don't think anyone could be bothered with shopping. There were too many tired legs around to walk through the vastness that is the Arndale, so after we ate our variety of late lunches, we walked around a few shops then called it a day. We got back to Beddoe's at about 5 and decided on playing FIFA 12.
Now. Beddoe knows I simply cannot go through this blog post without mentioning this amazing moment. Despite being a Football Manager fanatic, when it comes to FIFA, I am quite possibly the worst player there is. I have not played on any sort of console for about 2 years, and no FIFA game since about 2006, where I snapped my FIFA 2005 disc in frustration at being useless. My reluctance to play at first subsided, as I chose Bayern Munich to face Beddoe's unbeatable United team, (not that they showed that in real life yesterday). I was not confident. I set out a 4-5-1 formation, (not that I was given a choice), and attempted to not embarrass myself. What happened though, was a 2-1 win for me that ended up in Beddoe being embarrassed at losing to a complete novice, and me, delighted with a maiden FIFA 12 win. I then followed this up with a win against Colin, by the same scoreline, with the same team, and I was an instant hit!
I was unable to add to my wins, as the time for Nando's had arrived. No need to go into detail here, as amazing chicken was had by all, and I claimed a free quarter chicken. Free chicken is nicer chicken.
As we headed back to the house, I let everyone know that I would be taking it easy in the upcoming night out. The destination of choice was 5th Avenue, a place where I lost my last liver and half of my stomach, and I promised everyone, (including myself), that there would not be a repeat. There wasn't a lot of time for pre-drinks as we got home, as more FIFA dominated proceedings, so with just a single vodka and orange inside me, we left the house to catch the night bus to the club to end all clubs.
I'm sure you've heard of this place. "5th Av" is 90% of the reason why Manchester nightclub goers end up in A&E. They sell double vodka red bulls at a stupid price, with shots at an even lower one, and the amount of vomit that ends up on the floor in this place is enough for the most hardened of people to gag. "5th Av" is the resting place of my former liver, and "5th Av" is a club that really should care more about how much alcohol they give to people. It was a naturally slow start to the night, with people still recovering from the night before and me, taking it easy, as promised. All of a sudden however, Colin decided to "go for it", ordering 2 double vod-bulls and putting them together to make a quadruple. Him and Chris both did it, and later on in the night, after Beddoe had had a lot aswell, me and Billie watched from the sides as Beddoe swayed around the dancefloor in his usual drunken demeanour whilst Colin pulled what was described by Chris, as a "water buffalo". It's not as if I wasn't drinking at all, after a fair few JD and cokes, I was in the massive kerfuffle of dancers on the biggest dancefloor in Northern England, dancing through classics from Oasis and Arctic Monkeys, (that seemed to please Colin...) For most of the night though, I accompanied Colin as he first went outside to try and coax randomers out of cigarettes, (when he doesn't smoke), and then claim to "trip out" upon one puff of a small fag-end that someone gave him. It was funny to watch, and embarrassing at the same time, and as we went back inside, the real fun started.
He had made straight for the first girl he saw. Unfortunately for him, and everyone around him, this girl wasn't exactly Cheryl Cole. The fact she ended up attempting to reject him for the best part of 90 minutes was even more embarrassing for the lad, but he never gave up. For the final moments of the night out, we had a dance to club classics, while shaking our heads at the apparent misfortune/luckiness of Colin's plight before forcing him to leave. I was fairly sober by this stage, and we boarded the busiest night bus ever to go home. It was a long old journey, made slightly funnier by some random old woman pulling Colin's trousers down, but as we got home, I felt incredibly tired, and after losing my 100% record, rather embarrassingly, to a heavily intoxicated, (and apparently blind) Mr.Beddoe, I made my way downstairs to my comfy sofa.
I could go on to talk about our trip to The Vic pub to watch the Manchester derby, but I think we'll leave it there. Beddoe's face at the time told a thousand words, as we watched United being pummelled and then thrown in the trash, surrounded by City fans, who were delerious.
The train home wasn't fun, cramped in the aisle surrounded by "football traffic", but it was a good weekend. I was pleased it went well, and both nights were good without any... hiccups. Colin stole the show, and I'm pleased he did, because if he didn't, I probably would of done! And we didn't want that did we!
I was excited, as is usual, on the Friday as I set off for the long walk to Sainsbury's to meet Colin. No, I did not walk all the way to Manchester, as that would have been silly. It was a long old journey to Sainsbury's, passing a group of 12-year old weed smokers, that show the absolute worst of Bedford society. I was even re-directed by a randomer back to the gym, as she thought I was going to the gym with my huge bag. No love, I'm off to get wasted.
After waiting for an age for Colin to finish his shift and then get ready while I bought him a crate of Sol Campbell, we jumped in the car belonging to one of Colin's friends, and drove as quickly as possible to Milton Keynes station, where we were due to jump on the 6.50 train to Manchester Piccadilly. We made it just in time, sacrificing Colin's ankle along the way, and relaxed and spoke about what the upcoming weekend had to offer. Literally anything was on the cards, given the previous experiences in this wild and vibrant Northern city. We arrived fairly late on the Friday, which is standard procedure, and immediately got the ball rolling. Friday nights are traditionally "5th Av" nights, given the taste of music, but this time there was a special event on at a place called 'Avici White'. It sounded modern, and it was, and I was looking forward to it despite the £5 entry fee. Upon leaving, I was at a good rating on the drunken scale, and despite the taxi driver not knowing where he was going, we arrived in pretty good time and enjoyed a good night. Everyone got very drunk, (some more than others, with me at the bottom of the list). The highlights of the night were the huge relief of finding Billie's "stolen" camera and... we'll leave it at that. I think something a bit controversial happened, but seeing as I was well out of the way, it would be wrong of me to speculate! At the end of the night, (I think it was around 3.30am by this stage), I ushered everyone into a taxi and we made the long trip home. Beddoe's new house is a bit out of the way from his last, so every trip took a good 20-30 minutes. As we walked, (or stumbled), into the house, I settled down on one of the two sofas, discovering, to my delight, that they were infinitely more comfortable than the slabs of concrete and sponge at Beddoe's old house, and I think we talked for about an hour about nothing in particular, before falling asleep at 5am...
Some people awoke on Saturday morning, (or afternoon), with quite a hangover, but not me! It's always good when that happens, and I think the plan for the day was to travel another long journey to the Arndale to get some food, and do a bit of shopping before the agreed Nando's to line the stomach before another night of craziness.. I don't think anyone could be bothered with shopping. There were too many tired legs around to walk through the vastness that is the Arndale, so after we ate our variety of late lunches, we walked around a few shops then called it a day. We got back to Beddoe's at about 5 and decided on playing FIFA 12.
Now. Beddoe knows I simply cannot go through this blog post without mentioning this amazing moment. Despite being a Football Manager fanatic, when it comes to FIFA, I am quite possibly the worst player there is. I have not played on any sort of console for about 2 years, and no FIFA game since about 2006, where I snapped my FIFA 2005 disc in frustration at being useless. My reluctance to play at first subsided, as I chose Bayern Munich to face Beddoe's unbeatable United team, (not that they showed that in real life yesterday). I was not confident. I set out a 4-5-1 formation, (not that I was given a choice), and attempted to not embarrass myself. What happened though, was a 2-1 win for me that ended up in Beddoe being embarrassed at losing to a complete novice, and me, delighted with a maiden FIFA 12 win. I then followed this up with a win against Colin, by the same scoreline, with the same team, and I was an instant hit!
I was unable to add to my wins, as the time for Nando's had arrived. No need to go into detail here, as amazing chicken was had by all, and I claimed a free quarter chicken. Free chicken is nicer chicken.
As we headed back to the house, I let everyone know that I would be taking it easy in the upcoming night out. The destination of choice was 5th Avenue, a place where I lost my last liver and half of my stomach, and I promised everyone, (including myself), that there would not be a repeat. There wasn't a lot of time for pre-drinks as we got home, as more FIFA dominated proceedings, so with just a single vodka and orange inside me, we left the house to catch the night bus to the club to end all clubs.
I'm sure you've heard of this place. "5th Av" is 90% of the reason why Manchester nightclub goers end up in A&E. They sell double vodka red bulls at a stupid price, with shots at an even lower one, and the amount of vomit that ends up on the floor in this place is enough for the most hardened of people to gag. "5th Av" is the resting place of my former liver, and "5th Av" is a club that really should care more about how much alcohol they give to people. It was a naturally slow start to the night, with people still recovering from the night before and me, taking it easy, as promised. All of a sudden however, Colin decided to "go for it", ordering 2 double vod-bulls and putting them together to make a quadruple. Him and Chris both did it, and later on in the night, after Beddoe had had a lot aswell, me and Billie watched from the sides as Beddoe swayed around the dancefloor in his usual drunken demeanour whilst Colin pulled what was described by Chris, as a "water buffalo". It's not as if I wasn't drinking at all, after a fair few JD and cokes, I was in the massive kerfuffle of dancers on the biggest dancefloor in Northern England, dancing through classics from Oasis and Arctic Monkeys, (that seemed to please Colin...) For most of the night though, I accompanied Colin as he first went outside to try and coax randomers out of cigarettes, (when he doesn't smoke), and then claim to "trip out" upon one puff of a small fag-end that someone gave him. It was funny to watch, and embarrassing at the same time, and as we went back inside, the real fun started.
He had made straight for the first girl he saw. Unfortunately for him, and everyone around him, this girl wasn't exactly Cheryl Cole. The fact she ended up attempting to reject him for the best part of 90 minutes was even more embarrassing for the lad, but he never gave up. For the final moments of the night out, we had a dance to club classics, while shaking our heads at the apparent misfortune/luckiness of Colin's plight before forcing him to leave. I was fairly sober by this stage, and we boarded the busiest night bus ever to go home. It was a long old journey, made slightly funnier by some random old woman pulling Colin's trousers down, but as we got home, I felt incredibly tired, and after losing my 100% record, rather embarrassingly, to a heavily intoxicated, (and apparently blind) Mr.Beddoe, I made my way downstairs to my comfy sofa.
I could go on to talk about our trip to The Vic pub to watch the Manchester derby, but I think we'll leave it there. Beddoe's face at the time told a thousand words, as we watched United being pummelled and then thrown in the trash, surrounded by City fans, who were delerious.
The train home wasn't fun, cramped in the aisle surrounded by "football traffic", but it was a good weekend. I was pleased it went well, and both nights were good without any... hiccups. Colin stole the show, and I'm pleased he did, because if he didn't, I probably would of done! And we didn't want that did we!
Tuesday 18 October 2011
Questions Answered
Very rarely is a discussion about weather that interesting. When a discussion about the weather sparks up in conversation, you know you're struggling. This evening however, I continued what I had begun watching last week, in the shape of Stephen Fry : Live At The Sydney Opera House.
It was filmed in 2010, and despite me not being close to the intelligence, the wit, the absolute genius of Stephen Fry, I do relate to him in some ways, not least the mental side of things. He is a well-known sufferer of bipolar disorder, however, unlike me, has officially been diagnosed with it. I would just like to make plain that I have only ever officially been diagnosed with depression, and nothing more. However, the research I have carried out myself leans heavily in favour of a disorder called Seasonal Affective Disorder, (ironically abbreviated to S.A.D), which has similar symptoms to disorders associated with depression, but they come much more heavily in the winter season. Almost a case of more quality, with less quantity.
However, Stephen Fry has bipolar disorder, which is the movement of mood between severe depression and suicidal mania all the way to the other end of the spectrum, and delerious happiness. The most extreme of bipolar sufferers can one day feel as if there is no light at the end of the tunnel, with only black times ahead, with the next day, feeling on cloud nine. I know this feeling, to an extent. I know how it feels to not have any hope for the future, and I can honestly say I've felt nothing worse. I'm fairly sure I will never feeling anything as bad, physical or emotional. On the up side, the happiness stages lead to inflicted people planning futures and throwing themselves into challenges, only thinking of a happy outcome at the end of it.
I'm waffling, as usual. Stephen Fry, in this simple conversation with Australian broadcaster Jennifer Byrne, spells out the highs and lows of what depression is. What it's like to have depression. It was amazing. And he used the weather to explain it.
When you are at your lowest low, it is like stepping outside to torrential rain. Something in your brain, everyone's brain, triggers to sadness and a miserable demeanour. You did not cause the rain, the weather makes up it's own mind. You cannot "walk off" the rain, and all of a sudden, it will be sunny. The two mistakes to make are 1) To deny it's raining, when it clearly is. You cannot deny something that is happening, and 2) That's it, my life is over. It's raining, therefore the Sun will never come out. It's the same with depression. When you are at your lowest, nothing seems possible. Life is black, your energy is horribly slow, there is no tomorrow. It is deadly painful. It is raining, and you think it will rain forever. But the fact of the matter is, the Sun will come out. It will. It has to. That is the thought you HAVE to keep in your head, during the darkest days, and even if it does seem impossible, and it seems like that thought isn't there, deep down, in your subconscious, it is. If it wasn't, I can assure you, the depression would have beaten me ages ago.
It is not a case of, "Snap out of it!" It is an illness, and an illness no one will understand unless you are unlucky enough to experience it yourself. I would like to try and make people understand it a bit more, as I get the impression that most people think it is a case of moping around in your own self-created misery. I will be the first to admit, that most of the problems I have experienced in the past few years have stemmed from issues I could have stopped. The problems I have now, I don't think are self-created. It has developed, and I deal with the subsequent highs and lows of it. This time last week, I was asleep, about to wake up to a vicious low that meant I ended up walking out of the house, and to sit on a park bench for hours. For ages, I sat and tried to think of the Sun coming out to disperse the torrential rain, but it was very hard. The Sun did come out eventually, and that is the thought I need to keep thinking. Sometimes it will be sunny, and sometimes it will rain. For this is life.
Another thing I listened to with great intent during this conversation was a quote from Oscar Wilde. It goes like this:
"If you never know what you want to be, if each day, you are unsure of who you are and what you know, you will never become anything. And that is your reward."
It is not a case of a simple clever quote, about not being stereotypical and going down a particular road. I will be honest and say, I am not too certain what it insinuates, but it is promising to see a quote with the phrase, "unsure of who you are and what you know", next to the simple word, "Reward". It's something I will be thinking about for a long time to come.
Stephen Fry, aswell as being a national treasure, involved with everything great about broadcasting, acting, comedy and writing aswell as presenting, is also a man that speaks great sense. He will obviously never read this, but I would like to thank him for making my mind so much clearer tonight. Questions that I thought would be left long unanswered, have been solved, thanks to a simple analogy and a quote, from the legend that is, Fry.
It was filmed in 2010, and despite me not being close to the intelligence, the wit, the absolute genius of Stephen Fry, I do relate to him in some ways, not least the mental side of things. He is a well-known sufferer of bipolar disorder, however, unlike me, has officially been diagnosed with it. I would just like to make plain that I have only ever officially been diagnosed with depression, and nothing more. However, the research I have carried out myself leans heavily in favour of a disorder called Seasonal Affective Disorder, (ironically abbreviated to S.A.D), which has similar symptoms to disorders associated with depression, but they come much more heavily in the winter season. Almost a case of more quality, with less quantity.
However, Stephen Fry has bipolar disorder, which is the movement of mood between severe depression and suicidal mania all the way to the other end of the spectrum, and delerious happiness. The most extreme of bipolar sufferers can one day feel as if there is no light at the end of the tunnel, with only black times ahead, with the next day, feeling on cloud nine. I know this feeling, to an extent. I know how it feels to not have any hope for the future, and I can honestly say I've felt nothing worse. I'm fairly sure I will never feeling anything as bad, physical or emotional. On the up side, the happiness stages lead to inflicted people planning futures and throwing themselves into challenges, only thinking of a happy outcome at the end of it.
I'm waffling, as usual. Stephen Fry, in this simple conversation with Australian broadcaster Jennifer Byrne, spells out the highs and lows of what depression is. What it's like to have depression. It was amazing. And he used the weather to explain it.
When you are at your lowest low, it is like stepping outside to torrential rain. Something in your brain, everyone's brain, triggers to sadness and a miserable demeanour. You did not cause the rain, the weather makes up it's own mind. You cannot "walk off" the rain, and all of a sudden, it will be sunny. The two mistakes to make are 1) To deny it's raining, when it clearly is. You cannot deny something that is happening, and 2) That's it, my life is over. It's raining, therefore the Sun will never come out. It's the same with depression. When you are at your lowest, nothing seems possible. Life is black, your energy is horribly slow, there is no tomorrow. It is deadly painful. It is raining, and you think it will rain forever. But the fact of the matter is, the Sun will come out. It will. It has to. That is the thought you HAVE to keep in your head, during the darkest days, and even if it does seem impossible, and it seems like that thought isn't there, deep down, in your subconscious, it is. If it wasn't, I can assure you, the depression would have beaten me ages ago.
It is not a case of, "Snap out of it!" It is an illness, and an illness no one will understand unless you are unlucky enough to experience it yourself. I would like to try and make people understand it a bit more, as I get the impression that most people think it is a case of moping around in your own self-created misery. I will be the first to admit, that most of the problems I have experienced in the past few years have stemmed from issues I could have stopped. The problems I have now, I don't think are self-created. It has developed, and I deal with the subsequent highs and lows of it. This time last week, I was asleep, about to wake up to a vicious low that meant I ended up walking out of the house, and to sit on a park bench for hours. For ages, I sat and tried to think of the Sun coming out to disperse the torrential rain, but it was very hard. The Sun did come out eventually, and that is the thought I need to keep thinking. Sometimes it will be sunny, and sometimes it will rain. For this is life.
Another thing I listened to with great intent during this conversation was a quote from Oscar Wilde. It goes like this:
"If you never know what you want to be, if each day, you are unsure of who you are and what you know, you will never become anything. And that is your reward."
It is not a case of a simple clever quote, about not being stereotypical and going down a particular road. I will be honest and say, I am not too certain what it insinuates, but it is promising to see a quote with the phrase, "unsure of who you are and what you know", next to the simple word, "Reward". It's something I will be thinking about for a long time to come.
Stephen Fry, aswell as being a national treasure, involved with everything great about broadcasting, acting, comedy and writing aswell as presenting, is also a man that speaks great sense. He will obviously never read this, but I would like to thank him for making my mind so much clearer tonight. Questions that I thought would be left long unanswered, have been solved, thanks to a simple analogy and a quote, from the legend that is, Fry.
Monday 17 October 2011
Top Drawer!
This weekend has been a good'un! I've got the feeling, as we have officially entered Monday morning, that I've just enjoyed a spectacular two days, and without anything to really do until the probable highs of next weekend, things just look good right now. How long this will last, I do not know, but I hope I have no more bad episodes of despair before the trip to Manchester next weekend. Experience tells me not to hype it up too much, as we all know the range of emotions that have been let loose in this city. This trip has the potential to be amazing, but also has the potential to be disastrous. I have experienced both.
But back to this weekend, and after rejecting a Friday night out due to considerable absenteeism, I got a relatively early night so I could make the most of Saturday. I say, "relatively early night", but what actually happened was that I went to bed at 9pm. I think that is practically unheard of these days. Even so, I still ended up waking up at 10am, and I was determined to try and make the most of it. There wasn't a lot to do however, until the afternoon, where I walked down to Mowsbury Park to watch some local football. On arrival, I saw Tiny refereeing a team who's kit looked as if it had been attacked with gunge. Upon seeing me, his eyes widened as if to say, "What the hell are you doing here?" It seemed I would have to tell my University story yet again, a story that I have become accustomed to telling. I walked around a bit, watching another cracker of a match that finished 4-4, before walking home via the shops to buy a lottery ticket and some much needed Dairy Milk. That lottery ticket ended up being aggressively thrown into the bin at 1am in the middle of the Town Centre. I'll get to that bit.
After a few hours of dossing, as I had started to get withdrawal symptoms from Football Manager, as I had been away from it for over an hour, me and Kettle decided that we were going to go to Nandos. Why not? Kettle was back for the weekend, I had more stamps to collect, and chicken was needed to be consumed by all. Abigail came along as well, and despite us sitting directly below the speakers, meaning we had to shout our conversation, a good time was had by all. It was at this point, at the end of the eating of succulent chicken, where the vibe changed. The motion was that we were going to Chameleon for, "a couple". Now. We all know what happens when you go to a bar for, "a couple". There is no need to describe the sequence of events that led to this, except for the fact I definitely had a "couple" of JD and cokes plus sharing a fishbowl full of vodka and Corky's, (otherwise known as "water"). We left Chameleon and went to the Barley Mow, to try and find Burkitt, until realising he didn't start until midnight. We did however win £5 on the quiz machine, thanks to our superior knowledge, and got in a round for free!
We then went to The Rose, a place that I have never been very fond of, but I saw a lot of people I knew in there, including none other than Sister Mitten who was enjoying a much-deserved night out after her hard working of late! I also met an old friend who I hadn't seen for years, another referee who is quite a bit older than me, and an old PE teacher from Mark Rutherford. Was a bit crazy, and by this stage, I was a little tipsy, so it was all good fun. Marriott then turned up, and we headed off to Elements. It was just your average, but good, night out, until something clicked.
I don't know what it was, but it's a feeling I am used to getting when a certain amount of alcohol kicks in. The feeling that you don't really care about the financial implications of buying alcohol. Because of this, I went to get more money out, came back, and ordered in 9 shots of Disaronno and shared them out between myself, Kettle and Marriott, (Abigail had disappeared by this stage!) What then happened, after a brief visit to Chunder Central from Marriott, was nothing short of a shot-fest. I opted out of the latter stages, as I didn't really want to catch a train to the Land of Chunder myself, but Kettle and Marriott just kept on going. It was an incredible sight. The following hour or so was spent screaming and dancing away through club classics on the dancefloor, before exhaustion caught up with us and we left.
For some reason, we didn't go home. We trekked across town once more to visit Burkitt in the Barley Mow. The only problem being at this stage, was that it was 3am. It was soon to close, and they weren't letting anyone else in. Burkitt came out to speak to us, and despite our best efforts, we never got in. We headed to the taxi rank, and got a cab home, (which Marriott kindly paid for... In fairness, he had no choice!) I stumbled in through the front door at .... Ridiculous o'clock.
I was fearful at this stage that I had gone too far once more. But, almost surprisingly, I felt no dizziness, didn't feel sick at all, and snuggled up in bed to go to sleep, as easily as you can say "Sweet Dreams". I had the alarm set to the modest hour of midday, in time for refereeing. Upon waking up in the morning, I had no signs of a hangover, (largely due to the insane amount of water I had when I got in the night before), and despite a slightly croaky voice, I left to referee an Under 17 tie. Mr.Wright had pointed out that I had jinxed myself just before I left, by stating I was yet to issue a red card for the season, (despite my small amount of games). I think we both knew that was about to change...
The game I experienced was incredible. The first half was fine, almost void of incident. Things changed at half-time however, when I cautioned a player for coming over and berating me for being useless at cutting out swearing on the pitch. He said something along the lines of, "You shouldn't be wearing that kit, with a Beds FA badge on, if you don't know the rules". That sentence itself just shows how ridiculous his reasoning was. I, as a referee, have little power to cut out swearing in general. Players are allowed to swear, (to a degree), but just not in an insulting or abusive manner at anyone else. Times have moved on from the "foul language" era of the 90s. Things kicked off from there, with the majority of decisions just happening to go in the favour of Team A*. Slowly but surely, Team B* got more and more wound up, until I awarded a penalty to Team A, and rightly so. Team B's keeper went ape shit. His words to me were words that no one in any walk of life would take without some sort of action being taken. Naturally, he earned himself a red card, and from then on, I was subjected to copious amounts of abuse from players, coaches and spectators of Team B. I was pleased to blow the full-time whistle, but also looking forward to the probable approaches from players and coaches alike.
I was right. Complaints here, abuse there, it was just amazing. I ended up just counting up the further misconduct reports out loud, until they went away. In the end, I submitted 3 more reports, but it could easily have been 6 or 7. Even walking home from the game, a player from Team B shouted out of his car at me as he drove past. No wonder grass-roots football has a shortage of referees when there are teams like that around.
It's also quite amazing that a character like mine can take the smallest bit of "banter" and think about it for hours on end, wondering whether or not it was personal, but I can have the 'Encyclopeadia of Abuse' thrown in my direction whilst refereeing, and brush it off as nothing. How strange.
This evening was spent in the company of Kettle as we attempted to do the impossible and win a pub quiz with 2 people. It was never going to happen, and with my dodgy hearing playing a factor in losing the answer to a particularly simple question, it was merely a case of "How embarrassing can we make this?" We ended up scoring a very, very... very mediocre 19. Oh well. We visited McDonalds for a trial of different things, included a spectacular "shake 'n taste" BBQ chicken thing, before heading home via taxi.
It sure has been an interesting weekend, but rest assured, this time next week, you will be treated to an equally long blog post about Manchester Round... 6? I've lost count, but it rarely ends up as un-interesting... You have been warned.
*I have put "Team A" and "Team B" as I am not too certain if I am allowed to talk about teams in such a derogatory way in public, despite it being completely justified. We received some "guidance" about putting comments on social networking sites against players, teams, coaches and the like, so I presume blogs fall under that category. In fairness, the likelihood of anyone reading this blog anymore, (let alone representatives of the actual clubs), is minor, but just in case.
But back to this weekend, and after rejecting a Friday night out due to considerable absenteeism, I got a relatively early night so I could make the most of Saturday. I say, "relatively early night", but what actually happened was that I went to bed at 9pm. I think that is practically unheard of these days. Even so, I still ended up waking up at 10am, and I was determined to try and make the most of it. There wasn't a lot to do however, until the afternoon, where I walked down to Mowsbury Park to watch some local football. On arrival, I saw Tiny refereeing a team who's kit looked as if it had been attacked with gunge. Upon seeing me, his eyes widened as if to say, "What the hell are you doing here?" It seemed I would have to tell my University story yet again, a story that I have become accustomed to telling. I walked around a bit, watching another cracker of a match that finished 4-4, before walking home via the shops to buy a lottery ticket and some much needed Dairy Milk. That lottery ticket ended up being aggressively thrown into the bin at 1am in the middle of the Town Centre. I'll get to that bit.
After a few hours of dossing, as I had started to get withdrawal symptoms from Football Manager, as I had been away from it for over an hour, me and Kettle decided that we were going to go to Nandos. Why not? Kettle was back for the weekend, I had more stamps to collect, and chicken was needed to be consumed by all. Abigail came along as well, and despite us sitting directly below the speakers, meaning we had to shout our conversation, a good time was had by all. It was at this point, at the end of the eating of succulent chicken, where the vibe changed. The motion was that we were going to Chameleon for, "a couple". Now. We all know what happens when you go to a bar for, "a couple". There is no need to describe the sequence of events that led to this, except for the fact I definitely had a "couple" of JD and cokes plus sharing a fishbowl full of vodka and Corky's, (otherwise known as "water"). We left Chameleon and went to the Barley Mow, to try and find Burkitt, until realising he didn't start until midnight. We did however win £5 on the quiz machine, thanks to our superior knowledge, and got in a round for free!
We then went to The Rose, a place that I have never been very fond of, but I saw a lot of people I knew in there, including none other than Sister Mitten who was enjoying a much-deserved night out after her hard working of late! I also met an old friend who I hadn't seen for years, another referee who is quite a bit older than me, and an old PE teacher from Mark Rutherford. Was a bit crazy, and by this stage, I was a little tipsy, so it was all good fun. Marriott then turned up, and we headed off to Elements. It was just your average, but good, night out, until something clicked.
I don't know what it was, but it's a feeling I am used to getting when a certain amount of alcohol kicks in. The feeling that you don't really care about the financial implications of buying alcohol. Because of this, I went to get more money out, came back, and ordered in 9 shots of Disaronno and shared them out between myself, Kettle and Marriott, (Abigail had disappeared by this stage!) What then happened, after a brief visit to Chunder Central from Marriott, was nothing short of a shot-fest. I opted out of the latter stages, as I didn't really want to catch a train to the Land of Chunder myself, but Kettle and Marriott just kept on going. It was an incredible sight. The following hour or so was spent screaming and dancing away through club classics on the dancefloor, before exhaustion caught up with us and we left.
For some reason, we didn't go home. We trekked across town once more to visit Burkitt in the Barley Mow. The only problem being at this stage, was that it was 3am. It was soon to close, and they weren't letting anyone else in. Burkitt came out to speak to us, and despite our best efforts, we never got in. We headed to the taxi rank, and got a cab home, (which Marriott kindly paid for... In fairness, he had no choice!) I stumbled in through the front door at .... Ridiculous o'clock.
I was fearful at this stage that I had gone too far once more. But, almost surprisingly, I felt no dizziness, didn't feel sick at all, and snuggled up in bed to go to sleep, as easily as you can say "Sweet Dreams". I had the alarm set to the modest hour of midday, in time for refereeing. Upon waking up in the morning, I had no signs of a hangover, (largely due to the insane amount of water I had when I got in the night before), and despite a slightly croaky voice, I left to referee an Under 17 tie. Mr.Wright had pointed out that I had jinxed myself just before I left, by stating I was yet to issue a red card for the season, (despite my small amount of games). I think we both knew that was about to change...
The game I experienced was incredible. The first half was fine, almost void of incident. Things changed at half-time however, when I cautioned a player for coming over and berating me for being useless at cutting out swearing on the pitch. He said something along the lines of, "You shouldn't be wearing that kit, with a Beds FA badge on, if you don't know the rules". That sentence itself just shows how ridiculous his reasoning was. I, as a referee, have little power to cut out swearing in general. Players are allowed to swear, (to a degree), but just not in an insulting or abusive manner at anyone else. Times have moved on from the "foul language" era of the 90s. Things kicked off from there, with the majority of decisions just happening to go in the favour of Team A*. Slowly but surely, Team B* got more and more wound up, until I awarded a penalty to Team A, and rightly so. Team B's keeper went ape shit. His words to me were words that no one in any walk of life would take without some sort of action being taken. Naturally, he earned himself a red card, and from then on, I was subjected to copious amounts of abuse from players, coaches and spectators of Team B. I was pleased to blow the full-time whistle, but also looking forward to the probable approaches from players and coaches alike.
I was right. Complaints here, abuse there, it was just amazing. I ended up just counting up the further misconduct reports out loud, until they went away. In the end, I submitted 3 more reports, but it could easily have been 6 or 7. Even walking home from the game, a player from Team B shouted out of his car at me as he drove past. No wonder grass-roots football has a shortage of referees when there are teams like that around.
It's also quite amazing that a character like mine can take the smallest bit of "banter" and think about it for hours on end, wondering whether or not it was personal, but I can have the 'Encyclopeadia of Abuse' thrown in my direction whilst refereeing, and brush it off as nothing. How strange.
This evening was spent in the company of Kettle as we attempted to do the impossible and win a pub quiz with 2 people. It was never going to happen, and with my dodgy hearing playing a factor in losing the answer to a particularly simple question, it was merely a case of "How embarrassing can we make this?" We ended up scoring a very, very... very mediocre 19. Oh well. We visited McDonalds for a trial of different things, included a spectacular "shake 'n taste" BBQ chicken thing, before heading home via taxi.
It sure has been an interesting weekend, but rest assured, this time next week, you will be treated to an equally long blog post about Manchester Round... 6? I've lost count, but it rarely ends up as un-interesting... You have been warned.
*I have put "Team A" and "Team B" as I am not too certain if I am allowed to talk about teams in such a derogatory way in public, despite it being completely justified. We received some "guidance" about putting comments on social networking sites against players, teams, coaches and the like, so I presume blogs fall under that category. In fairness, the likelihood of anyone reading this blog anymore, (let alone representatives of the actual clubs), is minor, but just in case.
Thursday 13 October 2011
Special
Imagine the scene. Me, sitting in the lounge, with the TV stuck on Channel 81, with the Prime Minister's Questions in full flow. I take a quick glance at it every now and then, only paying real attention when Richard Fuller's name is shouted out by the bellowing Speaker. I look up at the screen to hear what he has to contribute to the jousting competition happening between opposite benches below. It isn't anything particularly important, although he does mention Bedford, (as he should, seeing as he is our MP), but the subject of his words are of no interest to someone of my social standing. The only real thing I can take from the whole charade of PMQ's is the fact that our MP, our representative, for our wonderful town of Bedford, Richard Fuller... Looks like Hitler.
Anyway. I'm babbling. Setting the scene is always something I was actually quite good at when asked to write a story or passage of some sort back in school . It's a shame I didn't carry on with English as a subject through my A-Level days, although back then, it wasn't even an option. The thought of slaving over 'The Great Gatsby' and the like, when I could of been out playing cricket or football filled me with dread.
Talking of decisions, today brought a pretty big one. I have decided, upon much deliberation, that I am going to go down the Police Force route. It was a route I considered before the University option, and I think it has the right mix of "on your feet" activity and desk work and has a good variety of career aspects and routes to go down. How did I come to this decision? I have no idea. And again, I have absolutely no idea if it's certainly the right route for me to go down, but it is far and away the most realistic choice, in terms of me surviving it. Besides, the way things have worked out, I think I have certainly given myself enough time to decide if going for a career in this field is right for me. As I shall now explain.
Going back to politics again, I suppose, and seeing that the world is in crisis and severe cuts are being made by governments all over the world, the UK included, the Police Force is going on a diet. Savings are trying to be made all across the board, so no Police Force is employing at the moment. However, given that savings are trying to be made, some forces, (apart from Bedfordshire seemingly), are attempting to recruit Special Constables. This afternoon, I spent a good couple of hours sifting through the application form for Special Constables in the Metropolitan Police Service, and I have a good feeling I will be accepted. If you don't know, the role of 'Special Constable' is a voluntary role, (with expenses etc. paid for you), so I will be finding a part-time job aswell as refereeing to get some money in the kitty.
My plan is then, to combine a part-time job and being a Special Constable until Forces start employing again, which, (if I have figured out if the career is right for me, through the Specials), will signal the beginning of a new career! If it isn't for me, we're back at square one. I do hope not. However, I nearly made a grave error this afternoon in accidentally disagreeing to take a Substance Misuse Test, (a requirement for the application to be considered), before I spotted my mistake. I had still sent the application off however, so I have to ring tomorrow to get them to change it. Not the best of starts...
Hopefully this is the one for me, but I am not going to presume it is. You never know with me, after a major breakdown of communication between my heart and my head, (remember Manchester in February 2011? SmartMove Dec 2010? GoOutdoors May 2011?), I tend to look on things with a fresh slate in front of me, before things start bogging me down. So, who knows!
And one of my concerns, is that on certain days, especially with Winter coming, I'll feel terribly bad and depressed and my thoughts on what I want will become blurred and disfigured. No ambition will be present, and all I will want to do is mope around and do nothing all day. I had one of these days yesterday. It was horrible. In the morning, I felt as bad as I had done for a long while, choosing to walk to town to clear my head, and buying a baguette and some chocolate fudge cake along the way. It's not really a pattern that can go on, and I'm slightly afraid that I'll end up becoming a person who just waits for the next down stage. The next time you'll feel rubbish. The next time you'll just want the ground to open up and swallow you. And I don't want that. Who wants that?
Next weekend however, is a quickly-arranged trek to BeddoeLand, otherwise known as Manchester. We all remember what happened on the last occasion we graced their shores, and rest assured, I will not be even thinking about going that mad again. I look forward to it though, and there does seem to be a rather large bottle of vodka in my cupboard-of-many-things that needs to be seen off. Good times.
I've waffled for way too long. It's now 1am, and I have an appointment with my career advisor tomorrow, although I feel that is going to be rather redundant given today's revelation. But I will make the best time of it anyway.
Wish me luck in my latest escapade. No doubt I will need it, at some stage.
Anyway. I'm babbling. Setting the scene is always something I was actually quite good at when asked to write a story or passage of some sort back in school . It's a shame I didn't carry on with English as a subject through my A-Level days, although back then, it wasn't even an option. The thought of slaving over 'The Great Gatsby' and the like, when I could of been out playing cricket or football filled me with dread.
Talking of decisions, today brought a pretty big one. I have decided, upon much deliberation, that I am going to go down the Police Force route. It was a route I considered before the University option, and I think it has the right mix of "on your feet" activity and desk work and has a good variety of career aspects and routes to go down. How did I come to this decision? I have no idea. And again, I have absolutely no idea if it's certainly the right route for me to go down, but it is far and away the most realistic choice, in terms of me surviving it. Besides, the way things have worked out, I think I have certainly given myself enough time to decide if going for a career in this field is right for me. As I shall now explain.
Going back to politics again, I suppose, and seeing that the world is in crisis and severe cuts are being made by governments all over the world, the UK included, the Police Force is going on a diet. Savings are trying to be made all across the board, so no Police Force is employing at the moment. However, given that savings are trying to be made, some forces, (apart from Bedfordshire seemingly), are attempting to recruit Special Constables. This afternoon, I spent a good couple of hours sifting through the application form for Special Constables in the Metropolitan Police Service, and I have a good feeling I will be accepted. If you don't know, the role of 'Special Constable' is a voluntary role, (with expenses etc. paid for you), so I will be finding a part-time job aswell as refereeing to get some money in the kitty.
My plan is then, to combine a part-time job and being a Special Constable until Forces start employing again, which, (if I have figured out if the career is right for me, through the Specials), will signal the beginning of a new career! If it isn't for me, we're back at square one. I do hope not. However, I nearly made a grave error this afternoon in accidentally disagreeing to take a Substance Misuse Test, (a requirement for the application to be considered), before I spotted my mistake. I had still sent the application off however, so I have to ring tomorrow to get them to change it. Not the best of starts...
Hopefully this is the one for me, but I am not going to presume it is. You never know with me, after a major breakdown of communication between my heart and my head, (remember Manchester in February 2011? SmartMove Dec 2010? GoOutdoors May 2011?), I tend to look on things with a fresh slate in front of me, before things start bogging me down. So, who knows!
And one of my concerns, is that on certain days, especially with Winter coming, I'll feel terribly bad and depressed and my thoughts on what I want will become blurred and disfigured. No ambition will be present, and all I will want to do is mope around and do nothing all day. I had one of these days yesterday. It was horrible. In the morning, I felt as bad as I had done for a long while, choosing to walk to town to clear my head, and buying a baguette and some chocolate fudge cake along the way. It's not really a pattern that can go on, and I'm slightly afraid that I'll end up becoming a person who just waits for the next down stage. The next time you'll feel rubbish. The next time you'll just want the ground to open up and swallow you. And I don't want that. Who wants that?
Next weekend however, is a quickly-arranged trek to BeddoeLand, otherwise known as Manchester. We all remember what happened on the last occasion we graced their shores, and rest assured, I will not be even thinking about going that mad again. I look forward to it though, and there does seem to be a rather large bottle of vodka in my cupboard-of-many-things that needs to be seen off. Good times.
I've waffled for way too long. It's now 1am, and I have an appointment with my career advisor tomorrow, although I feel that is going to be rather redundant given today's revelation. But I will make the best time of it anyway.
Wish me luck in my latest escapade. No doubt I will need it, at some stage.
Tuesday 11 October 2011
Route to Potential
Things haven't changed in the past few days. I'm still completely clueless as to where to go with my life, although I have figured out I would like something that's mostly "on your feet" and active in contrast to sitting behind a desk. That's about as far as I've got with trying to work out where I want go, but I fear I may end up being way too picky with the career path I want to go down, especially in these difficult times. The words of Jo the Career Advisor are still ringing in my head..
.."It's incredibly difficult being a young person in this day and age."
I've been repeatedly told that my options are endless, with the potential for all to see, but how come I can't see that potential? And how come I can't see a single door to go through, let alone an "endless" amount? Well, I know why I can't see my own potential. A lack of self-confidence and a negative demeanour do not help matters, but hopefully, heading into what will undoubtedly be a long and formidable winter, I can work on trying to find positives out of situations. A silver lining in every cloud, and a bright side to difficult situations. I have filled my music playlist with songs I find inspirational and songs that have a deliberate cause to lift spirits, deleting anything that could diminish any good mood that comes my way.
As for University, that is all in the past. I moved out on Saturday, without seeing anyone as it was still early in the morning, (for a student). As soon as I got home, I deleted all of my university contacts, on phone, facebook and e-mail and put it behind me. It shall be an experience in life's tapestry, and one that I shall not consider going near again. I have received a fair few jokes in light of my failed experience, but compared to the "banter" I received there, this was all fairly light-hearted.
And yesterday, was actually a good day. I was out on the football pitch once more, refereeing my 2nd game of the season, and I have to say, I'm not sure I have enjoyed refereeing a football match as much as I did yesterday. The 80 minutes, (as they were only Under 16), flew by and the match was an absolute cracker. They were talented footballers, and some of the challenges going in were worthy of a Tyne-Wear derby. I can't remember a single mistake I made, giving 3 cautions along the way, and a fantastic advantage for one of the 8 goals that went in. Crawley were 3-0 up at half time, only for Kempston to fight back to win 5-3. Tensions were high, and the pace of the game, extraordinary, but I feel I did very well. Unfortunately, I don't have a game this weekend, (yet), but hopefully that will change.
As for the rest of the week... I don't know I'm afraid. I have my 2nd NextStep meeting on Thursday, but I genuinely don't think they will be much help. I know this decision of where to go with my career has to come from me, and I have to decide. All these meetings are just guidance and support, but the ultimate decision lies with me and me alone.
And I haven't got a clue.
.."It's incredibly difficult being a young person in this day and age."
I've been repeatedly told that my options are endless, with the potential for all to see, but how come I can't see that potential? And how come I can't see a single door to go through, let alone an "endless" amount? Well, I know why I can't see my own potential. A lack of self-confidence and a negative demeanour do not help matters, but hopefully, heading into what will undoubtedly be a long and formidable winter, I can work on trying to find positives out of situations. A silver lining in every cloud, and a bright side to difficult situations. I have filled my music playlist with songs I find inspirational and songs that have a deliberate cause to lift spirits, deleting anything that could diminish any good mood that comes my way.
As for University, that is all in the past. I moved out on Saturday, without seeing anyone as it was still early in the morning, (for a student). As soon as I got home, I deleted all of my university contacts, on phone, facebook and e-mail and put it behind me. It shall be an experience in life's tapestry, and one that I shall not consider going near again. I have received a fair few jokes in light of my failed experience, but compared to the "banter" I received there, this was all fairly light-hearted.
And yesterday, was actually a good day. I was out on the football pitch once more, refereeing my 2nd game of the season, and I have to say, I'm not sure I have enjoyed refereeing a football match as much as I did yesterday. The 80 minutes, (as they were only Under 16), flew by and the match was an absolute cracker. They were talented footballers, and some of the challenges going in were worthy of a Tyne-Wear derby. I can't remember a single mistake I made, giving 3 cautions along the way, and a fantastic advantage for one of the 8 goals that went in. Crawley were 3-0 up at half time, only for Kempston to fight back to win 5-3. Tensions were high, and the pace of the game, extraordinary, but I feel I did very well. Unfortunately, I don't have a game this weekend, (yet), but hopefully that will change.
As for the rest of the week... I don't know I'm afraid. I have my 2nd NextStep meeting on Thursday, but I genuinely don't think they will be much help. I know this decision of where to go with my career has to come from me, and I have to decide. All these meetings are just guidance and support, but the ultimate decision lies with me and me alone.
And I haven't got a clue.
Saturday 8 October 2011
Finding My Feet
Believe it or not, the last couple of days have been relatively busy. Probably not what the rest of you would call "busy", but certainly more so than I expected.
Yesterday saw my inaugural NextStep meeting with an advisor paid for by the government, who's job description was to help me, and any other persons who step through her battered white door, to decide upon where to go next. I had urged myself beforehand that I was not going to go into it expecting to come back out with a career all panned out for me, and an easy road ahead, which is has been one of my downfalls recently. I have expected too much to happen, too soon. I have been too impatient. I was expecting a usual careers advice session, with the usual set questions that circulates the Careers Advisor circle, but what I got instead was an up-front, honest lady who used her own experiences and the experiences of her children, to work out what mine were. Strangely, she knew exactly where I was coming from as I tried my absolute hardest to get across the message that I had failed to tell up until that point. First of all, we spanned my recent history, including the rather failed attempt at University, plus my exploits from job to job. I told her that the nights at BP had done more bad to me than good, to which she completely agreed, and she even told me what it was like from a parents' point of view, seeing as her son had recently done exactly the same. I told her my interests, which are mostly sports based, but was quick to say that I thought a career in sport may diminish my interest in the subject, and generally extinguish my life. It sounds very contradictory saying that now...
Again, she agreed. I was being agreed with left, right and centre, on all the points I came up with, which made me think about whether or not she genuinely did agree, or whether she was doing it just to raise my morale, which was clearly rock bottom. My paranoid mind thinks like that. Any praise that comes my way, I brush it off, thinking that they are just saying it to make me happy. This needs to change. I also mentioned that I enjoy writing, and even mentioned this blog, although she seemed to look at me in a way that suggested I do not look like the next Roald Dahl. Obviously.
The session itself, was just a starter point and needs to be built upon. I am expecting a phone call in the next few days to arrange a 2nd session, but was asked to complete a 'Health Skills Check' online, to collaborate my strengths and weaknesses, (with the 'weaknesses' section seeming more prominent in the final report), and give me some fields to try and explore. It took a whole two and a half hours to complete, with tricky numerical tests along with mechanical and abstract challenges and personal and social questions to complete. It was incredibly thorough, and the 26-page report I got back at the end of this, certainly confirmed this. It told me that I was more of a "team-working" sort of person, in contrast to working on my own, and that I wasn't great under pressure, although I was obviously intelligent and clever. My drive and ambition was also poor, which is something I already knew, along with the 'not being great under pressure' thing.
However, some of the fields it suggested I look into as careers were laughable. It suggested I become a Dramatherapist, which is an obvious no-go, as well as an Agricultural Inspector and some sort of Martial Arts Instructor. All of these were just ridiculous, until I looked further down the list to see some possibilities.
I have mentioned becoming a Police Officer before. I seem to remember typing the possibility in this very blog, and I have thought about it in the past. 2 things are stopping me however. 1) Again, I am no more certain of wanting to become a Police Officer, than I was with the whole University thing, and 2) At a time when the Government are making severe policing cutbacks, is there much chance of getting on the ladder soon? I predict not. As Jo, the NextStep advisor said, it really isn't easy being a young person at the moment. Boy, is she right on that one...
There were a few more slight possibilities, with Immigration and Customs careers being one of them, and also a career in Journalism being another, but these sorts of things need language and literature qualifications, both of which I don't have. (Yes, I have a GCSE in French, but that doesn't quite cut the mustard). So, until the next session at least, I feel I am no better off on knowing where I want to go, but like I say, I can't expect things to happen instantly. On the plus side, I did come out of that meeting immediately feeling a bit more positive about my future prospects. That's something else I need to do aswell. Look at the positives of situations, instead of dwelling on the negatives. As the song goes, always look on the bright side of life...
And today? Today, I've been at work. Yes, you read that right, I've been at work, but unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on how you look at things), it was for one day only as I helped Mother Mitten out in her Shop of Many Bags. I am getting paid for the 4 hours of long and tedious nothingness I did however, so I can certainly take the positive out of that one! Along with this, I have picked up another game to referee on Sunday afternoon, which will gain me a bit more money that will certainly come in handy at some point, even if it is used to make up the money I may or may not spend in town tomorrow night...
Talking of tomorrow, I imagine it's going to be highly awkward. I am off to Eastbourne with Father Mitten to pack up the rest of my things and hopefully not say goodbye to so many people as I officially leave University. The experience I had looked forward to for 8 months, and it's over in 2 weeks, but I do still believe I have made the right decision. Maybe in 10, 20, 40 years time, I will regret it, but who knows. I made a mistake in going to University, but as many people have said, "it was my decision". And now I've got to make another strong decision when it comes to where I want to be in life. At the moment, the questions are still as unanswered as they were a couple of years ago, but hopefully the answer will come soon. The positive? I am 20. Not 50. I am younger than I think, and there is plenty of time still. I will be fine. I will be good. I will be cushty.
Suppose I'd better be off to sleep then. Up at 6am tomorrow, as Father Mitten is an early starter, and its now just past midnight. It's going to be a long road to success, and I've got to learn to fight in this world that's becoming more challenging by the day.
Yesterday saw my inaugural NextStep meeting with an advisor paid for by the government, who's job description was to help me, and any other persons who step through her battered white door, to decide upon where to go next. I had urged myself beforehand that I was not going to go into it expecting to come back out with a career all panned out for me, and an easy road ahead, which is has been one of my downfalls recently. I have expected too much to happen, too soon. I have been too impatient. I was expecting a usual careers advice session, with the usual set questions that circulates the Careers Advisor circle, but what I got instead was an up-front, honest lady who used her own experiences and the experiences of her children, to work out what mine were. Strangely, she knew exactly where I was coming from as I tried my absolute hardest to get across the message that I had failed to tell up until that point. First of all, we spanned my recent history, including the rather failed attempt at University, plus my exploits from job to job. I told her that the nights at BP had done more bad to me than good, to which she completely agreed, and she even told me what it was like from a parents' point of view, seeing as her son had recently done exactly the same. I told her my interests, which are mostly sports based, but was quick to say that I thought a career in sport may diminish my interest in the subject, and generally extinguish my life. It sounds very contradictory saying that now...
Again, she agreed. I was being agreed with left, right and centre, on all the points I came up with, which made me think about whether or not she genuinely did agree, or whether she was doing it just to raise my morale, which was clearly rock bottom. My paranoid mind thinks like that. Any praise that comes my way, I brush it off, thinking that they are just saying it to make me happy. This needs to change. I also mentioned that I enjoy writing, and even mentioned this blog, although she seemed to look at me in a way that suggested I do not look like the next Roald Dahl. Obviously.
The session itself, was just a starter point and needs to be built upon. I am expecting a phone call in the next few days to arrange a 2nd session, but was asked to complete a 'Health Skills Check' online, to collaborate my strengths and weaknesses, (with the 'weaknesses' section seeming more prominent in the final report), and give me some fields to try and explore. It took a whole two and a half hours to complete, with tricky numerical tests along with mechanical and abstract challenges and personal and social questions to complete. It was incredibly thorough, and the 26-page report I got back at the end of this, certainly confirmed this. It told me that I was more of a "team-working" sort of person, in contrast to working on my own, and that I wasn't great under pressure, although I was obviously intelligent and clever. My drive and ambition was also poor, which is something I already knew, along with the 'not being great under pressure' thing.
However, some of the fields it suggested I look into as careers were laughable. It suggested I become a Dramatherapist, which is an obvious no-go, as well as an Agricultural Inspector and some sort of Martial Arts Instructor. All of these were just ridiculous, until I looked further down the list to see some possibilities.
I have mentioned becoming a Police Officer before. I seem to remember typing the possibility in this very blog, and I have thought about it in the past. 2 things are stopping me however. 1) Again, I am no more certain of wanting to become a Police Officer, than I was with the whole University thing, and 2) At a time when the Government are making severe policing cutbacks, is there much chance of getting on the ladder soon? I predict not. As Jo, the NextStep advisor said, it really isn't easy being a young person at the moment. Boy, is she right on that one...
There were a few more slight possibilities, with Immigration and Customs careers being one of them, and also a career in Journalism being another, but these sorts of things need language and literature qualifications, both of which I don't have. (Yes, I have a GCSE in French, but that doesn't quite cut the mustard). So, until the next session at least, I feel I am no better off on knowing where I want to go, but like I say, I can't expect things to happen instantly. On the plus side, I did come out of that meeting immediately feeling a bit more positive about my future prospects. That's something else I need to do aswell. Look at the positives of situations, instead of dwelling on the negatives. As the song goes, always look on the bright side of life...
And today? Today, I've been at work. Yes, you read that right, I've been at work, but unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on how you look at things), it was for one day only as I helped Mother Mitten out in her Shop of Many Bags. I am getting paid for the 4 hours of long and tedious nothingness I did however, so I can certainly take the positive out of that one! Along with this, I have picked up another game to referee on Sunday afternoon, which will gain me a bit more money that will certainly come in handy at some point, even if it is used to make up the money I may or may not spend in town tomorrow night...
Talking of tomorrow, I imagine it's going to be highly awkward. I am off to Eastbourne with Father Mitten to pack up the rest of my things and hopefully not say goodbye to so many people as I officially leave University. The experience I had looked forward to for 8 months, and it's over in 2 weeks, but I do still believe I have made the right decision. Maybe in 10, 20, 40 years time, I will regret it, but who knows. I made a mistake in going to University, but as many people have said, "it was my decision". And now I've got to make another strong decision when it comes to where I want to be in life. At the moment, the questions are still as unanswered as they were a couple of years ago, but hopefully the answer will come soon. The positive? I am 20. Not 50. I am younger than I think, and there is plenty of time still. I will be fine. I will be good. I will be cushty.
Suppose I'd better be off to sleep then. Up at 6am tomorrow, as Father Mitten is an early starter, and its now just past midnight. It's going to be a long road to success, and I've got to learn to fight in this world that's becoming more challenging by the day.
Wednesday 5 October 2011
Lying Low
I have tried to keep my head down in the last few days, trying to avoid awkward questions from people wondering why the hell I'm back in Bedford until people have forgotten about it, or enough time passes for it to become probable that I've given up on University. I think it goes without saying, that I haven't done a lot with my days unless you count the administration around officially leaving, and trying to sort out meetings with people who might be able to give me some idea of what to do next.
That meeting is tomorrow afternoon, and to be honest I'm dreadfully nervous. Its only your average meeting with a woman who may or may not give a rat's arse about my future or the welfare of my mind, but it's the first step to what needs to be done to give me any chance of succeeding in life. I have been thinking about what I've learnt from this experience, and what I need to do next, and I have a long list of things that went wrong, with a much, much shorter list of actually how to go about it. I know I need to have a positive mindset, I know these opportunities will not be given to me on a silver platter and I know I need to stop expecting things to happen quickly, but how do I change from the most negative of negative attitudes to the positive one that is required to get going? How can I be positive about the future, when I have no idea what the future holds, and most importantly, how can I permanently change my attitudes towards the things that must happen if I am to succeed? It's this, that I have no idea. And it's this, that I fear will be my downfall.
At the moment though, I have gone back to pure and utter basics. Trying to go to bed at a sensible time, waking up at a sensible time in the morning, (even if there is nothing to wake up for), and trying to get out of the house enough to stop feeling sorry for myself while couped up indoors. I have accomponied a noticeably strained Mother Mitten on outings to town and Tesco, just so I can feel like I'm doing something to help. I cannot imagine how frustrating this whole thing is for my parents. Mother Mitten seems to have expected this to happen, (which I don't blame her for), whereas Father Mitten has come out with a couple of cold comments that does little to improve my mood, but even I feel that some of these comments are justified. That is what they are like though, and I cannot complain about it, seeing as they are actually contributing to life, when I'm drifting through it.
The only silver lining from this whole thing is that I don't lose a penny from the course fees, accommodation fees and anything else that was needed, although I do feel a little bad for my parents and my sister for everything they bought for me to make the university experience that never happened, better for me. Mother Mitten even said that she will pay for a car for me, (with me paying back the money eventually, of course), if it helps me widen my search for employment, but I feel like I can't accept such an offer after all the things I've put them through. I seriously cannot comprehend how they are still so supportive, despite me disappointing them so often.
However, none of this seems to be enough for me to work hard and change this around. I feel stuck in the crevises of life, waiting for a door to open or an opportunity to arise instead of actually going out and finding and searching for opportunities. I have no idea how to go about it, and the mindset that is now engrained in my personality tells me to just give up, as there is nothing out there to look for. It's this that I need to change, and it's this that I have no idea how to. And it's this attitude, that I feel I cannot change, that scares the hell out of me.
However, I shall wait and see what happens in this meeting tomorrow. You never know, I may actually walk out of that LearnDirect building with some idea of where to go, but then again, maybe that's me expecting too much, as usual.
That meeting is tomorrow afternoon, and to be honest I'm dreadfully nervous. Its only your average meeting with a woman who may or may not give a rat's arse about my future or the welfare of my mind, but it's the first step to what needs to be done to give me any chance of succeeding in life. I have been thinking about what I've learnt from this experience, and what I need to do next, and I have a long list of things that went wrong, with a much, much shorter list of actually how to go about it. I know I need to have a positive mindset, I know these opportunities will not be given to me on a silver platter and I know I need to stop expecting things to happen quickly, but how do I change from the most negative of negative attitudes to the positive one that is required to get going? How can I be positive about the future, when I have no idea what the future holds, and most importantly, how can I permanently change my attitudes towards the things that must happen if I am to succeed? It's this, that I have no idea. And it's this, that I fear will be my downfall.
At the moment though, I have gone back to pure and utter basics. Trying to go to bed at a sensible time, waking up at a sensible time in the morning, (even if there is nothing to wake up for), and trying to get out of the house enough to stop feeling sorry for myself while couped up indoors. I have accomponied a noticeably strained Mother Mitten on outings to town and Tesco, just so I can feel like I'm doing something to help. I cannot imagine how frustrating this whole thing is for my parents. Mother Mitten seems to have expected this to happen, (which I don't blame her for), whereas Father Mitten has come out with a couple of cold comments that does little to improve my mood, but even I feel that some of these comments are justified. That is what they are like though, and I cannot complain about it, seeing as they are actually contributing to life, when I'm drifting through it.
The only silver lining from this whole thing is that I don't lose a penny from the course fees, accommodation fees and anything else that was needed, although I do feel a little bad for my parents and my sister for everything they bought for me to make the university experience that never happened, better for me. Mother Mitten even said that she will pay for a car for me, (with me paying back the money eventually, of course), if it helps me widen my search for employment, but I feel like I can't accept such an offer after all the things I've put them through. I seriously cannot comprehend how they are still so supportive, despite me disappointing them so often.
However, none of this seems to be enough for me to work hard and change this around. I feel stuck in the crevises of life, waiting for a door to open or an opportunity to arise instead of actually going out and finding and searching for opportunities. I have no idea how to go about it, and the mindset that is now engrained in my personality tells me to just give up, as there is nothing out there to look for. It's this that I need to change, and it's this that I have no idea how to. And it's this attitude, that I feel I cannot change, that scares the hell out of me.
However, I shall wait and see what happens in this meeting tomorrow. You never know, I may actually walk out of that LearnDirect building with some idea of where to go, but then again, maybe that's me expecting too much, as usual.
Sunday 2 October 2011
What Now?
There is one hour left of what has been the longest week of my life, by miles. Most of the week was spent either knocking on flat doors, discovering that the people I had landed with were my worst nightmare, and then the rest of my time spent couped up in my flat, doing anything to avoid them. Many of you have commented on what I have done. Most of you seem to think I should have given it a chance, with some of you thinking that I did the right thing to escape before it was too late. One thing I do know though, is that none of you realise what its like to have the mentality of a dead man, with no ambition at all. None of you know what its like to be stuck, at the age of 20, not knowing where to go next.
And that is how I feel like. I have no idea what to do, and I feel like I have simply had too many chances to simply experiment and throw it away before moving on. I cannot go on just trialling different career paths until I find something I can handle. It just sounds absolutely stupid. And even then I haven't got a clue where to start. My head is completely fried, and I'm not sure I can handle a lot more of what is, my life.
This afternoon, I had a welcome distraction in the form of refereeing my first game of the season, with your mediocre Under-16 game. It was boiling hot, and in October, it threatens to ruin your mindset, (as if I need anymore of that)! It went alright, with not many major decisions needing to be made. The only one being a huge penalty shout for handball, that I dismissed with your bog-standard grass-cutting technique. Otherwise, it was a stroll in the park in beautiful weather, even if I couldn't completely concentrate with everything else going on in my life..
Sigh.. This is going to be a long fight, and after a couple of occasions where I genuinely thought my depression had vanished, it emerges it is still buried deep down in my sub-consciousness, waiting for an abominable event or an erroneous experience to feast upon. I just don't know what to do.
And that is how I feel like. I have no idea what to do, and I feel like I have simply had too many chances to simply experiment and throw it away before moving on. I cannot go on just trialling different career paths until I find something I can handle. It just sounds absolutely stupid. And even then I haven't got a clue where to start. My head is completely fried, and I'm not sure I can handle a lot more of what is, my life.
This afternoon, I had a welcome distraction in the form of refereeing my first game of the season, with your mediocre Under-16 game. It was boiling hot, and in October, it threatens to ruin your mindset, (as if I need anymore of that)! It went alright, with not many major decisions needing to be made. The only one being a huge penalty shout for handball, that I dismissed with your bog-standard grass-cutting technique. Otherwise, it was a stroll in the park in beautiful weather, even if I couldn't completely concentrate with everything else going on in my life..
Sigh.. This is going to be a long fight, and after a couple of occasions where I genuinely thought my depression had vanished, it emerges it is still buried deep down in my sub-consciousness, waiting for an abominable event or an erroneous experience to feast upon. I just don't know what to do.
I Give Up
This has been the most difficult week of my life. The emotional rollercoaster that has taken place in my head, that is more battered than mashed potato, has taken its toll. The decisions I have made, not just in this last week, but in the last 3 years could not have been more hideous, and I have given up entirely in trying to sort out my own head. I am a nobody, and that is how I shall stay. I am a lacklustre, lazy, bone idle, idiotic excuse for a human being, and that is how I will remain for the rest of my days. I am not prepared to trial and error my way through life until I find something I want to do, because the horrible journies I will have to suffer along the way will not be worth it.
I don't want to be involved in any education system, I am universes away from being hard-working enough to complete any apprenticeship, and clearly a working week is too much for me to handle. My whole life is a trainwreck waiting to happen, and I'm struggling to delay the inevitable much longer. My rash decision making, mixed with my awful ability to panic and worry about the smallest of things, means that if I stay at University any longer, I will end up throwing myself off the edge of Beachy Head. Therefore, I am leaving and coming home to ruin my life around people I know. I am too selfish for it to happen any other way. If I'm extremely lucky, I will find a job that I could keep for a few months before caving in again, and then we'll start all over again before it becomes too unbearable to stay alive for.
I'm doomed to a life of depression, and I am powerless to get out of it. I'm going to bed, and hopefully it will all have disappeared by the morning. Welcome back to the dark days Mitten.
I don't want to be involved in any education system, I am universes away from being hard-working enough to complete any apprenticeship, and clearly a working week is too much for me to handle. My whole life is a trainwreck waiting to happen, and I'm struggling to delay the inevitable much longer. My rash decision making, mixed with my awful ability to panic and worry about the smallest of things, means that if I stay at University any longer, I will end up throwing myself off the edge of Beachy Head. Therefore, I am leaving and coming home to ruin my life around people I know. I am too selfish for it to happen any other way. If I'm extremely lucky, I will find a job that I could keep for a few months before caving in again, and then we'll start all over again before it becomes too unbearable to stay alive for.
I'm doomed to a life of depression, and I am powerless to get out of it. I'm going to bed, and hopefully it will all have disappeared by the morning. Welcome back to the dark days Mitten.
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