Saturday, 30 October 2010


Today I posted an article I found on tumblr about a man who had chosen to forsake the necessity he felt to be and act "cool". It was quite a good article basically outlining how his 39 years on the earth had mostly been dominated by life choices based on what was "in" and on what everyone else thought. He decided to change gradually away from this as he was getting too old to pretend he was still a twenty-something hipster in uncomfortable clothes and uninspiring places. Fair enough. It's probably the sort of revelation people make often as they get older only their concious isn't quite aware of it being so overt.

However, I'm not quite so convinced. You are meant to read the article and consider the man to be striving to reclaim his own identity and you are meant to be proud of him for doing so. I didn't feel so. I'd done more to find myself by the age of 15 than he had by the time he was 39 and no-one cared. I have a big problem with the idea of popularity and being cool or trendy, and I think people who spend their lives attempting to be so (regardless of to what extent they succeed) shouldn't be pitied for having to do so, they should be pitied for the lack of free thought they exhibit.

The world is an oppressive place. Social structures and heirarchies attempt to shape behaviour in so many ways and everyone acting within society plays a part in reinforcing these ideas. Some people do this more willingly or are more aware of doing it than other blissfully ignorant people are. Here is an example. Stuart came home and told me that at work one of his colleagues criticised him for being too eloquent, only said colleague didn't say "too eloquent", he said something along the lines of "using big words to try and sound smart". At first glance this interaction may seem run of the mill, but it is really extensive layers of "whats cool" social culture reacting to the slightest divergence from the norm. Stuart's coworker disliked Stuart's use of his admirable vocabulary as it was different. Either it made Stuart look better than him, or he thought it made Stuart look negative and to be putting on a show. His response encouraged Stuart to come home and mention this in passing to me. Undoubtably this wont cause stuart to change his behaviour (as he is lucky to be someone comfortable enough in being his own person for it not to) but it was still impacting on him. The coworker has clearly been impacted on by cultures which have emphasised to him that a large vocabulary isn't a good thing, or that it is a threat. Stuart may seem cleverer than him, Stuart may seem to be "uncool" because of it. Someone else may have reacted to Stuart and this has effected said coworker. Either way, the culture the coworker has been involved in has clashed with Stuart's way of speaking, and made him no longer blend into the background.

This isn't specifically a critique of either person's views here, it is merely to highlight that people act in ways they do not explicitly understand to correlate with their own views or opinions. Namely: Peer Pressure.

Peer pressure, a topic first given this title to me in P.S.E. classes at high school, has been one of those ideas which irritates me due to the connotations which are always negative. Peer pressure is feeling obliged to act, and indeed even think, in a certain way due to the overwhelming opinion of those around you. For me at high school this was as follows. You had to look a certain way. You wore tightly fitted black trousers, tightly fitted white or blue shirts, preferrably with a "ben sherman" logo on the pocket but no other, and nike trainers. You wore makeup and styled your hair each day. You spoke in certain ways, using slang where appropriate. You didn't run or play games, you weren't interested in sports, you would walk in groups with girls, sometimes linking arms and you would "hang out" in certain areas where you were meant to in a group. You would have lunch in the town at the chip shop or deli, you would not have lunch in the canteen. You would however use the canteen for a snack between classes. You would not be clever, you would not try to answer questions in class, you would avoid getting top marks in classes and would attempt to blend in by getting average marks. You would not talk to teachers, you would do token "bad" things, you would talk about hating school, hating teachers. You would pretend it was cool to drink or smoke or have had sex regardless of your age or aversion to such activites. You would pretend to know rude slang terms and use them as much as possible so to divert attention from the fact you didnt know them. You would like the music played on clyde one, you would have to dance like a slag and at least dance, you would DIE if you couldnt go to the school disco even though you hated it, you would wear the clothes the cool kids wore, you would go the places the cool kids go, you would like the boys the cool kids liked, you would shun the friends you had a year ago because lo and behold they were now losers and you were to avoid them like the plague or be shuned by association. You were to try and look like everyone else so you couldnt be picked out the crowd. You were to try and talk like everyone else so there wasn't a stray voice. You were to try and do the same activities, imitate the rest so there wasn't a lone figure moving slightly off beat. You had to press the off button on your imagination. You had to hide your face when you weren't doing something worthy. You had to batter your brains in to sink to thier level. You had to damage your emotional well being to stay faceless. You had to spend each and every day constantly with people, trying not to do anything at all remarkable so you didn't step off the kirb and fall into the limelight for all the wrong reasons. You had to try and do all this without wanting to just go home, go to bed and just never wake up again.

School is an incredibly oppressive envrionment for anyone with an individuality. For the people who thought school was ok they probably havn't got the blinkers off yet. Either they are in denial about their whole lives or they haven't got the brain power to realise how they have been moulded to be just like everyone else. And indeed in essence that is it. Fitting in; there is no such thing. Fitting in is infact the stripping back of yourself. It is a bonfire of your identity and background. Fitting in is burning the germs off of a metal instrument with which to perform surgery. It is a purge and it is repressive.

Not long after I went to high school I began to realise the intense brainwashing that was indeed taking place curtosey of the inherent social structure and the hundreds of faceless idiots promoting it without second thought. Unluckily for me no-one else seemed to notice such dogma and this made my life rather hellish; though I bet no-one would have noticed while I was there. I am glad though. As much as school was the worst time of my life, I am glad it wasn't a walk in the park. I get to be someone who isn't a faceless moron like the majority.

I look at everyone I see as I go about my day most days and they all are the same. In town all the girls wear skinny jeans because they have been told to from so, so many angles. OMG this loser is wearing an aviator jacket in a magazine or on a picture in the front of topshop; now its a MUST HAVE. I can't belive these people don't realise themselves how they are being manipulated. And the other side is just as bad, oh yea I wear "uncool" clothes. It's cool to wear trousers too short for you becuase its "uncool". You are just as idiotic. Don't get me wrong I am not anti-fashion and I am not immune from the lure of advertising, but what happened to looking at something and going with your gut. Ask, do I find this item to be aesthetically appealling? is it a nice colour? does it have a great design? do i just like it because I've seen it a lot? or someone "cool" has it? or do i like it because the "I" on the inside of me wants it?

Why can't I turn around and say: hey guys, I hate the band nirvana. I just do not like the sound.

Why can't I turn around and say: I like to be clever, in fact, I have based all my acheivements on this and I got 84% for my dissertation. I am better than every single other student I competed with and thats ok.

Why can't I turn around and say: Actually drinking makes me vomit, so i dont drink and why would i want to go out clubbing where the bad music is too loud, people spill drinks on you and old men leer?

Why can't I turn around and say: I like GARDENING. I like to grow things for no other reason than to watch it happen. I like to BAKE. I am basically your gran. No I don't like whiskey it tastes like arse and I do like sherry; i have a sweet tooth.

Why can't I just do all these things and not have everyone make a big deal about how odd it all is? Why can't people just accept that just because one person doesn't like the thing everyone else seems to like it doesn't make them a freak.

I've been who I am all my life. With the exception of a few years after primary school where you weren't allowed to be a child any more, and before I just gave up trying and did what the hell I liked around the age of 15 I have been myself. I pity those oppressed people out there going out every single day and putting on an act. It is insane that the man who wrote that article took THIRTY NINE YEARS to realise he didn't like the things he pretended to like. I have no sympathy because he had no guts. Do something different, be yourself, what is actually the worst that could happen?

So whenever anyone talks about popularity, or trends, or being cool it makes me so angry. There are so many people out there creating a fake image of themself be it fashion victims out in town, faux "tortured artists" at the school of art, or band/tv show worshipping people on the internet, uploading select pictures of themselves so they come across in a certain way. Stop doing these things and stop ridiculing the people who dont because as long as you do that, any time you look at the "what was she thinking?" page in heat magazine and laugh you are reinforcing the whole system and then you have no right to complain.

I refuse to let this finish on a cliche, but if you get my drift you will be able to insert the most applicable here: .

Monday, 25 October 2010

viruses are gay

I seriously cannot stand being sick. being ill. being unwell. being poisoned. even being that annoyingly childish and english term, poorly.

Every year, without fail, I get ill. And by ill I mean either a) the flu b) some sort of/combination of infections (be it urinary, chest, kidney etc etc) or c) the imfamous virus. Of course I get the minor ailments we all get, colds, upset stomachs, being run down, rashes and the like throughout but I also seem prone to these epic, flooring illnesses which I bet some snotty child passed onto me.

Just now it's a "virus" (which is the doctor term for I don't know what's wrong with you, but it sucks). It's always a fever (or temperature whatever), it's often a messed up bowel, sometimes cough/runny nose/sore throat/sinus bother, always hot and cold periods, sometimes achey, ALWAYS NAUSEA. Always.

If there is one thing I just cant stand it's nausea. If there is one thing worse it is actually being sick. Since I was young I have hated it and gradually I have developed a paranoid fear of throwing up. I think it probably started when I was young and my brother went through a period where he was physically sick a lot. It probably was only a few stomach bugs he had or something but you always make things seem a lot longer, or more dramatic when your young. My bedroom door was right opposite the bathroom door in the house and anytime anyone was sick I could hear it and I couldn't stand it.

I remember feeling sick and sitting in the study/spare room in the house on this old sofa which was really bulky and round with very firm cushions bound tightly. I sat upright with a duvet on this sofa because I was scared if I lay down I would feel more sick. I fell asleep upright.

I remember if I was ever in my own bed feeling sick I would distract myself from it by imagining riding horses in a riding lesson (which I did when I was young) I would choose the horse and play out the exact sequence of the lesson in my imagination to quell it.

I remember not vomiting for about 3 years straight and bragging about that record which would be broken only days later.

I know its all psychological but I can't stand it and I can't stand other people and I can't stand tv protrayals either.

Aside from that being unwell in any degree is just totally depressing. You think that it seems fun, not having to work/study/whatever, being able to just watch tv, read, do nothing, and sleep during the day. It's never like that though. Maybe it is for other people but I hate it and would rather be working any day. Watching tv is depressing because its either your sensitive to sound and its too loud, or the distraction isn't enough and your too shit to watch it so you just have to sleep it off. Reading is only likely if you feel up to it and even then reading for ten minutes tires you out so much that you feel ten times worse. Sleeping is ok if it makes you feel better but it either makes you feel worse (ie lying down with a cold, being unable to breathe) after or you end up sleeping away four days of your life with nothing to show for it only that you can wear clothes that aren't pyjamas again. You probably cant eat properly either. Take just now for example, this "virus" I have means I can only eat the following food: bread; pasta; rice; crackers; bananas; potatoes. And you can only eat them if you dont already feel so nauseous that the mere thought of a banana makes you gag. Also, who wants to eat plain pasta? I hate carbhydrates so much. When I feel a little better I have these immense cravings for a giant steak. Which I cant have. Of course I can have liquids, joy of joys. You have to drink LOADS of liquids for some reason, even though it makes you pee like every 10 minutes so you have to get up off the sofa and stumble dizzy like through the house which in turn makes you nauseous again and the giant steak seems like hell itself.

There is literally nothing good about being ill. I defy you to tell me I'm wrong.

I hate it so much and I just want to be better.

I know this was a very depressing and whiney blog but I'm sick so I don't care.

Also.. why does my body decide that NOW is the perfect time to plague me with the hiccups every bloody hour?

Monday, 18 October 2010

the best kind of days

It's been a very odd, very trying weekend. And yesterday morning's wakeup was marred with the cold shivery-ness of still having to do that f-ing book review. I needed to sort out both of these things tout de sweet to keep my brain from jumping a level down on the happy-o-meter. What I mean is that when things are going well you advance up levels of happiness in your head and with every graduation, wedding and funding grant you bounce up another level. Problem is that once you get there you get used to it and it is also more instable each level you go up so little ruptures in the landscape tend to upset far more easily and you can fall down a lot quicker. So to remedy these problems I sat down first thing and wrote the arse out of that book review. I don't think Ian Cowan should expect a rave anytime soon. However, to solve the former was and is a lot more troubling. Without going into the detail of the weekend (hospitals, chinese commie-hackers, broken parties, people bending, expectations waning...) it was a lot harder to fix than doing the book review.

So first I cleaned the house. I don't know if it's the same for anyone else but cleaning is kind of theraputic to me. I like to clean. You don't need to use your brain in any real way to do it. It is menial work, yet it's not wasted on the slovenly public but cherished on my own humble abode. It's light exercize and I am a firm believer that a tired mind needs a tired body or the balance is all off, and rest will be bi-polar. It is satisfying to the n-th degree. Your house is messy and you clean it and it makes everything feel more at ease, in order and lacking the disarray that inhibits calmness. So yes, first I cleaned the house.

Secondly I went to the gym. I had to go to work for 1.5 hours first but then I went to the gym . Infact I invested in the university gym membership that morning (it only took me 5 years) so I didn't have to find change. Also I was out in my Van Morrison t-shirt which is a bright yellow neon type one and instantly makes you feel of sunny disposition. At the gym I ran 5k and for some reason it was on the crazy hill climbing setting so I had to climb hills too. This made me sleep very well which is all part of it.

Thirdly and finally I came home and watched tv for a while, ate warm food and hid under blankets with mollycat for a couple of hours which is always good.

Despite all my efforts yesterday though I still feel a bit off and I always tend to brainwash myself. Sometimes this is by watching television and sometimes it is a bit more introspective. Here it is: I worked out one of my favourite days. And I'm going to describe it.

22nd December 2009

It was 22nd December 2009. It was me and Stuart's four year anniversary but that wasn't the point. It was a week or so into the crazy snow. Well, the crazy snow that had covered most of Scotland, lots of England and even bloody London - all except Glasgow. And this 3 days before Christmas. So I was angry and frustrated at the lack of snow and I was waiting on Stuart getting home. I can't remember if he was at work or if he was doing something else but I was waiting on him. Anyway we had been planning to go to the Christmas market at St Enoch Square with Jamie and about an hour before we were heading out... it started snowing!

So by the time we left there was a covering of snow. We donned our winter items, hats, scarves, gloves, coats and boots, and headed out.

We walked into town and hit george square as a myriad of horizontal flying snow, traffic and fair ground rides.

We were meant to be going ice skating but it was snowing heavily now and not exactly being experts we settled for drinking mulled wine in the tent they have. The tent has picnin benches with rugs, blankets and cushions on the seats and a disco ball inside.

Then Jamie arrived! And we headed to St. Enoch Square.

We got to the Christmas market and it started hammering it down with snow. It was like fog and you could hardly see the other side of the stalls.

We proceeded to make some crazy faces then headed in to the new Hamleys store for some snowy respite.

We wandered for a while then Jamie left (i think he was working?) and Stuart and I headed home via Georege Square again. They had turned on the lights and everything was perfect.

Then we walked back to Jobe and made a snowman in the back before heading inside to drink sherry and bacardi with cats and hotwaterbottles.

I don't think theres anything wrong with wishing for a white christmas. I don't think theres anything wrong with emulating a Victorian style christmas either. Last year I was worried I was getting into the christmas spirit way too early and limited myself to not doing anything Christmas prior to November (including shopping). This year this isn't as much of a problem - it is already mid October. Stuart and Dad's birthdays are past, Halloween is around the corner and my birthday too. From then on out it's Christmas time. If something is so important, so great and so fussed over you may as well extend it and enjoy it. I'm so anti grinch this year.

Sunday, 17 October 2010

antidote to soul destruction

Indicators and arrows to December, which will be imitated throughout

The whole sky soaked up in a puddle of water, where you can see the mirrored life

Those grown from themselves will destroy your soul, unlike those grown from the ground

Steady, reliable and remaining. Some things never let you down; though you are not meant to love them so

These little people, with their little hands

Sometimes it's hard to distinguish good from bad. And sometimes you just use your gut, and you know the truth

Why would this one emerge as good, and one so similar emerge tainted?

Where will you go? Will the path split? Which way will you choose?

I have chosen

Monday, 11 October 2010

I really don't like HMV

The time has come that I tell it like it is vis-a-vis the music retailer, HMV. For a long time now I have been growing increasingly dissatisfied with the ability to buy audio products on the High Street. Aside from HMV's crappiness, there is a distinct lack of good shops in which to buy cds. Note: cds. I am sure there are loads of places to shop if you are a snobby moron who listens to records, not cd, because oh man it's the only way to do it. I'm sorry, but they are big, they are old, the sound quality isn't as good. Fair enough enjoy your records for some old stuff but hello it's 2010 and the world moved on like over 15 years ago. And I bet you all these recordites are funding apple and illegally downloading cause how else would they be listening to music out of the house? Ripping each record to mp3s individually? Yeah, sure. Anyway, I don't think there is any point in buying records. I hate bands who do record only singles - THANKS IDIOTS. I also don't like downloading music, wheres the sleeve, and what happens when your computer decides it's just too much in this world for the third time this year? It's bye bye downloads time. Yes I have an external hard drive. No I don't update it every day. I don't like downloads, I like cds. Now that we have this covered I can tell you there is basically no where to buy cds. I live in Glasgow. When I moved to Glasgow I could list these great places to buy cds:
Music Zone (I think it was called) - basically above McDonalds on Sauchiehall Street, lots of cds and dvds always decent prices, good staff.
Virgin Megastore - giant selection, prices ok kind of hit or miss but they WOULD invariably have what you were after, student discount and good staff.
Fopp - used to be SO COOL, good cds for £7, £5, £3 a decent alternative selection outwith the perpetual sale and good staff.
Avalanche - really really great shop, had a lot of alternative cds and very good second hand area they used to even put the second hand in with the new so you could search it that way easily, if they didn't have it you could order it and the guys were so helpful, knowledgeable. It used to be brilliant.

Now, Music Zone is gone, Virgin became Zavvi which spewed gift cards, bit the dust, and became a weird online sort of retailer, Fopp is now HMV and seems to have been rather marginalised (of which will be discussed later) and Avalanche apparently has new owners, the second hand is muddled and if they don't have something they wont order it they are just like SORRY, BYE. thanks. So after this what do you have: HMV.

HMV has pretty much 100% of the cd sales market in the city of Glasgow and they have become really, badly arrogant.

Firstly, as you may have noticed in my old list of retaillers, all had good staff as a feature. This is something HMV is so far from ever having. All the staff in HMV seem to be metallers. Girls with black hair, black eyes, black lips and peirced everythings who are often always overweight with giant breasts it seems. Guys with black hair, jeans that sit not on the waist, not on the hips but no, on the PENIS, so you can see all of their creepy underwear and they are also heavily peirced with those freakish i've got a hole in my ear lobe you could stick your fist through earrings which make me want to be sick then die. I'm pretty sure getting a job at HMV on tills is like this: 1. Write a cv with nothing on it but a cover letter stating "oh man i am so passionate about music its like MY LIFE, yknow?". 2. Go to the interview dressed like a goth and walk in with your earphones in. 3. Get the job and then act like a perpetual sore arse for the rest of your working days.

Here are two recent (last 3 days) customer experiences of HMV for me.
Firstly in the Buchanan Street HMV (which used to be the sacred Virgin megastore and now is tit central) I was in with my Mum who was buying two cds, we found them and went to the tills beside the rock/pop stands. At the far end of the tills one of the above described girls stood with one of the above described guys. We hovered for a moment, they didn't give any indication they cared, so we approached the end of the till they were at. The girl then looks up and goes, "actually its at this till up here" signalling to the other end of the tills, and buggars off. We follow, then she takes the items and scans them and bags them, no eye contact, constant scowl. "£19.98" she spits at us, staring with a face like someone just told her she was a fat gothic loser straight up. So we pay then she hands the back to Mum and walks away. Like we are actually the bane of her life and should be dead. I have worked in retail so if you are thinking "yeah, but some customers..." then don't bother, I'm not a bad customer... unless I am given reason to be.

Second Example: In the HMV store at Glasgow Fort shopping centre in Easterhouse. We go in and I find the dvd I am after then take it to the till. Guy (above description still applicable) says "next" we approach hand dvd he scans and bags. I ask "hmv doesn't do student discount, does it?" he replies "no, it does a loyalty card instead which replaced it" I say "ah, I remember always coming in and they said they did do student discount but were all out of cards or something before..." "yeah, they used to only get a certain amount of cards, I used to work in Dundee and there was a big student population but only like a hundred student cards for them..." "Ah I see". At this point I pay and all is well. Had it been "ok, thanks bye" I probably wouldn't be writing this blog. So I said nothing then the guy goes "infact, a lot of people get very uppity when i say there is no studnet discount" I say nothing "I mean your not, but some people are like 'why not?' and i'm like well to be honest why SHOULD you get it? Im a student, and why should there be a discount? what makes YOU deserve it? It's not like you do anything for it? Some people get really uppity but they shouldn't have the reason to, why should HMV do student discount??!" So he spews forth this insane tirade and i merely respond "well I guess they dont need to but it would be frustrating if some people could get the discount and others not cause they ran out of cards..." to which he responds by using they "yer, but-" and reitarating the whole line of his arguement again. By which point i have the product in bag, change and receipt and stuart is shuffling away from the counter with his hand on my arm. "ok bye" i say and leg it. what a maniac. and he had those earring things but not in so his earlobe looked like a floppy piece of leerdammer cheese.

So thats been covered: HMV has bad staff and bad customer service. Here's what else I hate: Poor stock, Poor Prices. The stock in HMV is so geared towards current pop culture and whats "in". If I wanted whats in the charts I would go to WHSmiths, not HMV. They have a GIANT store on Buchanan Street yet instead of putting varied music in it they stuff it with stupid boutique style "im so unique i wear a led zep t shirt" type clothing and rows of cult books about bands and teenage character crises. Not only that but the stuff you do find to buy is insanely priced. Sometimes the cd is 3 for £20 or £12 each or something so you have to take all f-ing day finding 2 other cds or wasting all the money and based on their products that can be very hard. Basically you traul all the best ofs to see what you dont have. Other times you go and look at an old album you need to get or replace to find its like £17.99. £17.99 for a cd that was out like 4 years ago and the band isn't particularly popular? WTF? It really is hit or miss and the worst thing is there is no competition so they can basically do what the fuck they like knowing some people don't like to shop online and then it MUST be HMV or bust. I used to go to Argyll street and go in hmv then virgin and compare and buy the cheapest. Can't do that now. More often than not with HMV i come out not having seen the cd I'm after or having decided to put that £20 towards my pension than bankrupt myself trying to buy all my music at HMV.

As if this wasn't enough while you are in there dealing with these awful circumstances, the context of your visit it always marred with some ridiculously loud, bone chilling, migraine inducing drum and bass type moron music, forced into your ears at ridiculously loud levels. I find it an anomoly that in terms of hiring HMV opts for gothic/metaller types yet in terms of the sound track to its stores it chooses the kind of music that people with cheap cars yet expensive sound systems play at 1am on a tuesday morning driving by my flat.

Finally I must comment on the alternative. If you do some how find the cds you want but just cant face going into the hell hole that HMV is you can always shop online. You can always select seasons 4, 5, 6 and 7 of the west wing online, have seasons 5, 6 and 7 delivered in a week then wait for A MONTH for season 4 because they are having bother with their supplier. Note: this really means we have run out of that item for the offer that was on the website. To buy a copy direct for you would lose us money, even though its our oversight, and we would rather gently prompt you to cancel your order with us even though it is that season which is preventing you from watching the other 3 you bought. Stuarts advice: NEVER GIVE IN. Create a fuss and screw them out of money by thier own ineptitude. MORONS.

Yes, morons indeed. I really do hate HMV. Its probably only still viable because all the competition happened to go bust first. From now on its all the way for me - screw you HMV!! The end.

Sunday, 10 October 2010

I fell out of love with you, but I still want you

When I was young I liked Steps and the Spice Girls and probably some other crap which it appears my brain in sheilding me from acknowledging. Thanks brain.

When I was a little less young I liked better music. I liked bands from the 90s that were getting long in the tooth but that I had been too young to like when they first emerged. I always felt annoyed that all the bands I liked had already happened and they were someone else's, not my own.

When I was slightly older than that I liked contemporary bands. I went to the gigs, got chased out of the gigs, and I encased myself in these bands because I had to cling to something and the rest of my sociable life was a void. I could have been that person if I'd wanted to but even then I realised there was nothing there for me so I didn't make it stick. I kept my earphones in to block out the irritations.

When I was in that middling age I also did the sterotypical raid of the parents cds and then I discovered all the music that had passed by long before I was even considered.

When I was that age I fell in love with music and I fell in love with bands, certain special bands, and I stayed in the honeymoon period for a long time.

The first band that initiated this free fall was Manic Street Preachers. I don't know if it was the story behind it or the cult following but I immersed myself in a world where there was no sense of popularity and in the real world I made the gap between myself and my contemporaries a chasm. Everyone I knew became like myths, phantoms of real people, and all the people I couldn't fully know became more real than I'd ever imagined. I felt like I was understood, I was accepted and I could fit without neglecting myself. This was something I could never have done in the oppressive, moulding social structure of high school. So I created two worlds. In one world I was a little known, little cared of girl whose peers either never noticed her or purposley ignored her. In the other world I was a girl as part of a story with a plot and a trajectory and a great sound track. This lasted for years and is always carried.
From Despair to Where - Manic Street Preachers

From then on I would get up in the morning and put on something upbeat. I would ready myself for the day caring not for fashion and not for their Ben Sherman blue shirts or Jane Norman shoulder bags. I dressed like the boys I admired. I'd leave my room putting in my earphones with something more serious, more deadly. This would last to the bus stop and would be turned up on the bus as the morons bounced and chattered. I'd listen to music in as much of the day as I was allowed, on break, in class. I loved that Mrs Forrester and Mr Wilson let me escape for hours while working. On the bus home I again filled my ears with the other world and blocked out 'reality'. Once I got home I would put it on in my room again and I would fall asleep to it. 4pm-10pm the real world really didn't seem to exist.
Exit Music - Radiohead

I listened to Manic Street Preachers while writing, lying on my bed. I Listened to Fiery Furnaces while reading. I listened to the Mars Volta late in the evening in despair. It's a sweet thing, love. What's not so sweet is not getting it back, and of course I couldn't really.
Take the Veil Cerpin Taxt - Mars Volta

I didn't get it back from my other world in a full way and when I reverted to seeking it in the real world it was starkly transparent, egg-timed and once more not reciprocated. I ended the real world fling and stayed with old faithful. Then I met Stuart.
I Wanna Die - Adam Green

I suppose I fell out of love with music and the whole other world it opened gradually. It's like balancing clutch and accelerator in the car, it gradually faded and the necessity to keep up with it diminished. I realised that the other world was a defence and an escape. It was life support until things came sure and safe in the real world. It was a frank exhange. I fell out of love naturally.
Death on the Stairs - The Libertines

In the last few years I've been pining for it though, but the door to the other world seems hesitant and the world uninviting, harsh. I get in and find I'm in someone else's house, a niche I no longer fit. I still dip in but it's not the same. I still love music but I am no longer in love with it. I really just wanted to explain this. It feels like I've lost a bit of myself sometimes. Then I realise it's ok, I'll always have it, in some way or other.
Fall to Climb - R.E.M.

Thursday, 7 October 2010

so many despicable people

So, now you've had the happy blog I can get back to what's important - rants.

The world and all it's inhabitants never fails to amaze me with just how awful, disgusting, worthless and mean-spirited people can be. I've become so bleak in the last few years that I'm cynical about everything, especially where it involves any level of beleif or trust in my fellow wo/man. Recently I've found a lot of things I thought were dumb are actually not and I don't think I'm just bad at deciphering the worth of projects. I can only assume by the ridiculous and depressing things that happen every day in the vicinity of my house and to the (few, few) people that I know that the world at large is just an explosion of bastards screwing eachother over and over every single day. I'm stand-off-ish and happy about it, it's protective and I really think it's the only smart move. Anything that is really worth something will manage to break through my wall of dis-/mis-trust. I hope.

For a few years I didn't like charity. This probably stems from the appaullingly bad, and not to mention self-indulgent, student-made charity "events" that took place at my school. Basically it was a lisence for the self-important, the popular and the divas to dance and sing on a stage while the non-deluded students paid for the honour of being in the same room while it happened. Anyway, for there I never liked the way I was always bullied into giving money to charities. I hated the guilt trip sob story tv adverts. I am in agreement with the world at large that charity muggers on the street in town are the bane of everyones' existence. It wasn't just that though. I hated the way I was meant to feel sorry for other people's problems. Yes it was not nice that people were starving and sick in third world countries but I'd just become an adult, just started to have some money to my name and all of a sudden I'm to give it all away and solve a problem I wasn't even aware I had made? More recently I became even more angry due to the immense number of left-wing fantasists at university who lived at Amnesty International HQ and came over the thought of a new rally in London. Especially when these people were part of a team project and were too busy to do any work because of said rally. So I'm meant to do everything and can't even complain, because if you are complaining then you are basically Hitler.

So that was where I was at with that, the whole new social movement phenomenon I guess you can call it. But I did have a change of heart. I took a human rights class at university in my final year. So far I had managed to avoid all these extreme left wing nut-jobs but timetable and avoidence of bad lecturers led me here. Without going into a lot of detail it turned out the guy leading the class had a good grasp on reality. The literature wasn't as pie in the sky as the general public watered down discourse you get on the issue. And suddenly things seemed a bit easier. Suddenly the argument put to me before by some more xenophobic people of "theres poor people in Scotland, never mind Africa" became really obnoxious. These Scottish poor people are by definition those earning under £12,500. Does that actually compare? No. Which of these supposed undeserving African people has a 40" Plasma, a mobile phone for each and every brat spawned and every white good under the sun on credit from bright house? I'm guessing not many. I used to think that there was no point donating to international humanitarian charities. I used to think that without institutional change and the like there was no point, like throwing money into a bottomless pit. I don't anymore, if anything my cynicism works. It seems that very little will change in the third world in my lifetime and the least I can do now is try and reduce some pain, a little, if possible. I'm barely touching on the issue and this debate is not the main intent of my blog today, now I am going to go back to what the title refers.

The underclass. Neds. Junkie scum. Council/Benefit reliant work-ethic lacking morons. You know I really don't give a shit if this is offensive to anyone. Tell me not to say that after they piss and vomit in my close each Friday night. Tell me not to say that when Stuart's car gets broken into to fund some junkie's habit, again. Tell me not to say that when I don't have to have illiterate neighbours who intimidate and harrass you. I seriously can't deal with these people. The underclass. I can't remember which author it was who wrote of this but they wrote of an underclass existing below the "working class". People who contribute nothing to society. People who have a free ride. People who income tax payers fund. Decent people fund the designer clothes, the mod cons, the houses, clothes, food and drugs these people have.

Oh this argument is not new, not by far, and maybe it's just my current frame of mind, maybe it's a sign of the times, but they seem to be on the rise. These people don't deserve anything they have.

Then it comes time to cast my mind back to the good things, the good people. But like I said, recently there seems not to be too many going around. So if you are reading this please just try and be nice. Don't pop the balloon on someone's door "just for a laugh", don't stub out fag ends in someone's well tended garden and plant pots, don't do these stupid things people do which end up hurting someone, even if it's someone you don't care for. Why bother upsetting or hurting someone just for the hell of it? The decent people are the ones who tolerate the undecent ones, it should at least be reciprocal.

Anyways, I'm not UNHAPPY, I'm just frustrated with the world I live in as usual - who wouldn't be? At least for an hour to do a blog, lay it out, let it out and go back to being a smiley person.

To be sure though I just want to mention how grateful I am at the good police we have. Seriously, never thought about it before I moved to town but they are good guys. They are professional, they are protective, they are the barrier on the cliff between safe life and the hell of scumbags out there. Well all the police I've encountered have been top notch. As I always say to Stuart if I wasn't doing what i'm doing I'd be in the police. As my Mum always say to me, I'm too small.

Anyway this blog has been utterly dreary. Depressing. Monotomous. Tedious. Soul Destroying? I hope not. I'll try and salvage this emotional wreckage with something nice at the end.