It's Just Another Day in Paradise vs Frontal Lobotomies

So, here I am again…

Here.

In this place.

Writing words that a whole bunch of people might read. Or might not read. Or read, but not really take it all in. Or read, and just go away again. Or not read, and therefore not even know that I’m even here.

Here.

Here in my own little pile of CyberSpace ramblings and rantings.

So, what’s going on? Not much over here – I am, as usual, stuck at work and vainly trying to kill off the last 24 minutes before I finally get to taste the blessed, sweet taste of freedom! A whole 15 hours until I have to put on this stupid suit once again. Does anyone else ever get that sudden, agonising realisation – “just what the hell am I doing with my life? Huh? What?”? Because I’ve got to tell you, this is never what I envisaged for myself. It sounds very narcissistic, but it’s true. I worked bloody hard all the way through college and Drama School – and I don’t for one second suppose that the world owes me anything, and I know that if there’s something out there that I want I have to go out there and grab it with both hands. But. But. What I never, ever, wanted was to sit behind a desk 9-6 Monday-Friday, slowly ebbing away at my soul until, through a process of erosion, there’s nothing left.

Sometimes I feel like screaming. Sometimes, I feel like tearing the fucking place apart and just quitting and going to be Bohemian somewhere.

And who knows? Maybe I’ll do just that.

But there again, not everything is bad news. Oh, no! For it is true that I’m moving to my very own new pad on Thursday – and what’s that the result of?

You guessed right, folks. It’s as a direct result of putting on this stupid suit, and sitting behind a desk 9-6 Monday-Friday. Sounds just like one of God’s little jokes, doesn’t it?

All that said – good stuff is happening too. My best friend is finally back in the country – and I missed her so much that it was so good to see her again. I’m also glad I’m not in love with her any more – but am also fearful that that situation could change very rapidly indeed. But I’ll stay on top of that, I promise.

On the girl front – I’m doing pretty nicely thanks. Finally in a place where I don’t need a girlfriend – but if one came along I wouldn’t complain, of that I assure you. So if anyone knows a blonde (or brunette), beautiful South African chick (or any other nationality for that matter) who have a penchant for average-heighted Danish guys, give me a call!

I’ll leave you with this, something I wrote today. Don’t worry, it’s not another song:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this season’s must have accessory – an exploded head! You can see here that Chris is modelling the linear ear-to-ear style of explosion – resulting in a very avant-garde cross-crown parting effect. Note the way that his brain peeks playfully above the hairline, and the lopsided grin of the frontally lobotomised! You won’t be able to buy this look on the high street – but is made-to-order by (I’ve taken out the company name in case I get sued) plc.”

Make peace, people. Love, as always! x

I am the FUCKING bomb-diggy!

Hello hello hello!

And how are we all? Well I trust? Good... Good...

I'm sure you're asking yourselves how I could be so arrogant as to think I am the 'fucking bomb-diggy'.

I really don't know. I'm having a rare day of supreme over confidence - one of those days where everything seems to go right! Maybe tomorrow all will be different - but for now I'm happy just rocking on being me!
What else is going on? Well, in one month (one month TODAY, folks) it'll be Christmas Eve! (Which means I'll probably be drunk this time in a month) - so today I started organising 'Secret Santa' at work. You'd be stunned how many Scrooges there are out there these days...

Isn't Christmas meant to be a time of harmony, unity and good will to all men?

Not in London, apparently...

Anyways, I've gone on for long enough now - and I'm feeling less like the bomb-diggy.

But the coolest thing is that I (for once) am rolling along really nicely. And no-one's trying to drain me!

Lovely.

I think I'll leave you with some more lyrics (and if you've come here through Akash - welcome! Nice to meet you! Perhaps you could direct me to your blogs too? :) )

Right, here's the song:

And I Know (Jensen '05)

Curled up on the floor, I've been there before
And there I will remain…
I lost myself here and I am staring
Back at the top of everything that
I never knew
Let's just make this clear,
It came from all my fear
Scratched across our hearts, loyalty!
And with the old light,
There came a young hope –
Shining like a retina of flame
To understand our meanings,
And scratch our names in.

It’s the end of September and I know…
The end of September and I know…
I’ll never find the path to light…
It’s the end of September and I know…
If I can’t find the light then, Jesus, can anyone?

So I caught the bulb
To ignite all these worlds,
Looking at her I know
It's what I'd die for.
And through all of these times
Stripped away all these crimes
A friendship I nearly broke apart
Untouchable.

And I want you to know
How you made me,
How you saved me and...

***

So there we go. Make peace, chickens. I love you all.

xx

Thinking you forgot vs Teary-eyed rememberance

It's tragically human, but it's in our very nature that no matter how badly something hurts at the time, eventually we do forget the pain.

Eventually it stops and we feel as though we're ok again.

For anyone who's ever read my other blogs, I was very affected by the bombings of London back on 7/7. It was a devious, callous and sinister attack on the city I grew up in. The city I love. A friend who was new to me at the time commented that she had never seen someone so empassioned about one single event...

But it wasn't just me that felt the anger, the fear, and the pure, unadulterated sorrow at what happened to us.

But - that said - we all moved on. We were defiant, and eventually... We didn't forget, far from it. We remember every day the 52 people who died, the countless more who were injured, and the brave souls who went in to the tunnels to pull out the living. So we didn't forget... But we did make it so it hurt less, and suddenly the tube wasn't scary any more, and we weren't looking at every rucksack like it was a potential bomb.

Why am I talking about this, I hear you ask?

Because tonight I watched a documentary called 'The Day The Bombs Came'.

It was tragic. It was beautiful. It was evocative, compelling and touching - and all this was filtered through sadness. Come the end, I was crying like a child.

Because I remembered I was scared again. I remembered what those bastards did to my home, to my city - and I will never forget. I will never, can never forgive what they took away from us. 4 months on, and the wounds are still open.

London isn't over this. We did not forget. We were defiant in the eyes of fantaical Islam Fundamentalism.

You know, there's a shrine to one of the suicide bombers out in Pakistan. His uncle set it up. I read in the paper that he is quoted as saying he has 'no sympathy' for the victims of the blasts of 7/7.

No sympathy? Come and say that to the faces of Londoners... Say it to the faces of people who lost friends and family. If you're brave ebough, that is.

I don't want to be misunderstood here. I'm not part of the racist brigade. I'm not xenophobic. I do my best to understand other religions. But surely radical fundamentalism (in whatever form it takes) should not be encouraged? The government has introduced anti-terror laws... Laws that should prevent and inhibit inter-racial/theological violence and mistrust.

It just seems the Labour governments gone and fucked something else up.

Oh, and if Tony is reading this - a government-run think-tank which was out together to determine whether the UK's involvement in the Iraq war has lead to us being a terror target (such as in 7/7) returned the opinion that yes, it has (I paraphrase, of course...).

And you know something cool? It was a mixed-race board - guys from the muslim council, guys from the GLA, commentators, etc etc...

People, if we close our hands and make a fist we can fight the fucking system. Just lets not fight each other.

The point of this being - you can't forget when the pain hasn't stopped yet.

I love you all... xxx

Work vs Hell

Work...

Ladies and Gentlemen - work sucks. I hope that all of you have jobs that are unfettered by the restriction of performance index points, Stalinesque managers and staff moral that is so low the denizens of the 7th circle have a better time of it...

In short, I hope you're not recruitment consultants. If you're not, but are considering becoming one for the promises of riches, career progression and job satisfaction - don't. It's all lies. Recruitment is a shit-pit. A shit-pit Beelzebub himself would have been proud of. In fact, I'm not so sure that the Devil isn't in some way responsible for this particular career path. Why spend years and years trying to taint the soul of your average Catholic priest - when you can claim the everlasting soul in just a few seconds by saying the words - "Welcome to Recruitment Consultancy..."

Just think of the amount of recruiters who are thrown naked and screaming in to the pit every day...

Naked, eh? Perhaps this recruitment lark isn't so bad after all...

Having said that, I met a girl last week, and eventually (as conversations do) the talk turned to work. "What do you do?" (this crazily intelligent producer says to me). Rather bashfully, I reply "I'm an IT Recruitment Consultant". "Oh," she says "one step above an estate agent then" (and when you consider she's suing her estate agent, that's pretty bad). Yes, it is one step above estate agent - but two above used car salesman.

But she's hot, so I'll forgive her that.

Anyway - so much to do and so little time in which to do it. Thank God (or whichever deity you prefer) it's Friday.

I think I'm going to submit a proposal to the planning department of Hell, Inc. - along the lines of building some new circles in to their operation - an eigth for Management and Service Management Consultants... A ninth for Recruitment Consultants (obviously with plush carpets and a bar)... And a particularly nasty tenth for Daytime TV hosts...

Just you watch out, Richard and Judy... Lucifer himself is after your mortal souls.

But it's been a good day so far...

Emotional Draining vs Being Quite Settled...

Good afternoon everyone...

I have been asked by a very good friend of mine to post my latest musings up here... Perhaps he thinks I shouldn't just share them with him, I don't know.

But we'll come to that later.

The last few days have been no less than strange. It seems that as soon as one gets oneself in to a pretty much OK state again (yes kids, I'm still grinning) - everyone wants to take a little bit of your soul away again. I'm not averse to talking to people, and I'm not averse to helping my friends. Really. But I take it all here are familiar with the expression - "give an inch and they'll take a yard". Last night I was sat up til past midnight, trying to sort out two people's problems at the same time. And they take, and take, and take - until there's simply nothing left to give. I ended up going to bed, emotionally drained and not feeling good any more...

And I appreciate it when people listen to me when I'm down, and I'm glad that people feel that they can turn to me... But if you ask for my advice you will get it - and sometimes it won't be what you want to hear, because that's not always the best thing for you.

So please don't be offended if I say I think you're suffering from depression, and that you need to see someone and talk about it. Someone qualified, that is. Because for all of my ramblings, and of my use of big words and psycho-babble - I'm not a qualified psychotherapist, and therefore do not have the capacity to take the full burden of your problems on to my shoulders. I'm strong, and I will be here and I will hold your hand, and I will wipe away your tears and I will fight the bastards of this world with you - and moreover I will support you - but I don't have a magic wand and I can't make all this go away...

I'm truly, desperately sorry.

(If you're reading this, I hope you understand now...)

But back to the real world. London is as London does at the moment. It's 25-to-5, and it's dark already... But the colours in the world are beautiful just now, and I know that when I eventually leave this godforesaken office, the Thames will look just beautiful in all of its night-time glory...

As much as I moan about it - I love this city with all my heart.

Anyways, here's that song I was talking about...

Turmoil

It’s took some time
To find my space again
And I’ve had a while
To re-evaluate my head
And I’ve finally found
The answers I was after
So I’m settled now
And I can hear the sounds of laughter

Because she threw me in to
Turmoil!
And I found that I was drowning…
And she threw me in to
Turmoil!
Yet she taught me how to swim…

It’s took some time
For me to look at myself
And I have a mirror
To study my reflection
I’m not ugly now
My eyes shine like diamonds
Yet I miss her always
But I’ve got a steady hand

Because she threw me in to
Turmoil!
And I found that I was drowning…
And she threw me in to
Turmoil
Yet she taught me how to swim…

So I don’t hate you
As strange as that may seem
‘Cause the hurt you caused me
Meant more than death to this
Paradoxically
You helped me find myself
A person who was long
Lost to me
And so I love you dearly
But you’re not the one for me
And now I see this so clearly
We’ll both be more than we can see

Because we threw ourselves in to
Turmoil!
And found that we were drowning…
And we threw ourselves in to
Turmoil…

Thank God we learned to swim…

First Thought...

And it won't be anything special... But today I was just thinking how great life is - for all of its uncertainty, for all of its pitfalls and difficult times... Because every now and then something gets thrown at you that makes you realise that everything is, in fact, just about perfect.

Yes, by the way. She is blonde. :o)