Part Un
I must not have slept well last at all night. As, shepherded by the bleating of my alarm I stumbled dumbly into consciousness; and remained all but dead to the world for most of the morning. It took three cups of strong coffee with sugar, and a snickers flapjack to give me strength enough to break through the barrier of drowsiness and regain the use of my senses.
The caffeine induced high did have some side effects, namely an urge TO DO EVERYTHING NOW “GIVE IT HERE I’LL FIX IT NOW GO AWAY AND FETCH ME A COFFEE…biatch” - and I don’t think I blinked for the best part of an hour.
It will be unsurprising then, for me to state that the day seemed to pass quickly, mercifully so, as my thoughts never strayed too far away from sleep, my bed, sex (can’t help it, I’m a man), and sleep again.
Hmm - Sorry I was just thinking about err (don’t say sex) sex…Goddamit! Moving on.
Yes, the day came and went without incident. The minutes giving way to hours, which blurred, merged together in to one generic mass of absurdity; that has already joined the countless other forgotten ‘nothing days’ that have taken too much of my life up. That said - I did manage to lose my phone and cut myself with a bread knife (twice), so the day hasn’t been totally without incident.
In other news, I finished reading Nausea by Jen Paul-Sartre a few days ago and have finally gotten around to start writing a review, which shall be bolted on to the end of this entry sometime tomorrow.
Unfortunately General Procrastination got his grubby little paws on me and having finally escaped, I realise that it is now too late to finish my review.
Au Revoir.
Part Deux
Nausea is presented as a series of diary entries that offer the reader a look into the world of Antoine Roquentin. A gentleman in his thirties who, after apparently extensive travels, has settled in a fictional coastal town called Bouville (France). Wherein he plans to complete his research on a Monsieur de Rolleban, the intended subject of the book Antoine is writing.
Everything begins to change for Antoine upon the onset of what he describes as the nausea, an affliction that drastically alters his perception of himself and the world around him. The nausea appears seemingly randomly, forcing Antoine to question amongst other things, his own existence, the relationship between himself and his environment and even the nature of time. Eventually creating in him such disgust for existence that he very nearly loses his sanity.
Unsurprisingly existentialist themes are central to the setting and progression of the plot, and as such can be read as a work of philosophy as much as it can be a novel. Which is why I picked it up in the first place, having had my interest in philosophy; existentialism in particular, grow in recent years. However, I will leave the philosophy to one side at this stage; mainly because procrastination has yet again dragged out the process of writing, which is now intruding on my sleeping time – and in this state I would not do it justice.
My favourite element of the story is the character of Anny, Antoine’s ex-love whom he refers to with fondness throughout the book, and eventually meets once more in Paris. Anny as a character is fascinating, but the relationship between the two even more so.
I really love this book, but realise because of its philosophical ideas it will not appeal to everyone. I would however recommend it to anybody that likes to be challenged, or would appreciate the psychological study of Antoine as the Nausea begins to alter his mind.
Wednesday, 29 April 2009
Monday, 27 April 2009
Spiral Staircase
Bonsoir Mesdames, messieurs et variants là de.
There is nothing like a gentle jog in the rain on a spring evening to clear the mind and relax the body. Not that my jogs stay gentle for long. I rarely resist the urge to push myself by settling in to a pretty demanding pace for as long as I can handle it – and then trying to go faster. I am like that in most of my activities; to the point where my competitive nature is out shadowed by my own desire to beat myself. I don’t know where this appetite for self-destruction has come from.
Perhaps it was born out of my desire to grow as an individual. I feel that I have yet to find my limits; mental, physical or even spiritual (despite having attempted to test myself in varying degrees), and I believe I am missing out on some aspect of life that will remain hidden to me until I am able to really know myself and define the edges to my character. The thought that I might never reach a stage where I feel, well, complete I guess, is a genuine concern for me; as odd as that may sound. I am relentless driven by the desire to be more intelligent, fitter, faster and stronger; and am continuously feeding an insatiable thirst for more knowledge and life experience.
Suffice to say, this goal I have set myself; and the ongoing attempts at self-improvement have all but consumed me. Removed me from the world of reality and popped me down in central Carlsville, population one, a world that was built to revolve around me. I am talking in metaphors, obviously, in response to a rather awkward truth, which has hit home during the course of recent events. The mostly single-minded pursuits of my goals, and perhaps the feelings that have grown in the time that I have been single, have made me rather selfish. I have grown accustomed to being alone. This is not something like I like, and I am determined to revert this change in my personality, but have succumbed to musing many things about me, my life and more; which at current is leaving little if any time for action.
I have been in this mood since the funeral, which has evidently had an impact on me in a way I hadn’t expected. The entire build up, for me, was readying myself to face something profound. I wanted to be effected; I wanted to find something in the face of death that would help my better understand life. But all I have come away with is more questions. It was a nice service, not that I have another to compare it to, and I was glad to see the relief it brought to certain members of the family. The grief they expelled during the service seemed to lift their spirits and bring finality to the affair, which is good.
But I just have to be different, whereas the funeral marked a moving forward for the rest of my family, it began a period of looking back for me. It just happened to coincide with my first steps back in to the realm of dating, which itself has thrown up all sorts of questions and issues for me to contend with.
Both events have made me realise just how fragile our little worlds are, and how the slightest thing can bring them crashing down; or even extinguish them completely. My world has changed, it’s daunting, but; as always, change is necessary for progression and I don’t want to be alone anymore.
There is nothing like a gentle jog in the rain on a spring evening to clear the mind and relax the body. Not that my jogs stay gentle for long. I rarely resist the urge to push myself by settling in to a pretty demanding pace for as long as I can handle it – and then trying to go faster. I am like that in most of my activities; to the point where my competitive nature is out shadowed by my own desire to beat myself. I don’t know where this appetite for self-destruction has come from.
Perhaps it was born out of my desire to grow as an individual. I feel that I have yet to find my limits; mental, physical or even spiritual (despite having attempted to test myself in varying degrees), and I believe I am missing out on some aspect of life that will remain hidden to me until I am able to really know myself and define the edges to my character. The thought that I might never reach a stage where I feel, well, complete I guess, is a genuine concern for me; as odd as that may sound. I am relentless driven by the desire to be more intelligent, fitter, faster and stronger; and am continuously feeding an insatiable thirst for more knowledge and life experience.
Suffice to say, this goal I have set myself; and the ongoing attempts at self-improvement have all but consumed me. Removed me from the world of reality and popped me down in central Carlsville, population one, a world that was built to revolve around me. I am talking in metaphors, obviously, in response to a rather awkward truth, which has hit home during the course of recent events. The mostly single-minded pursuits of my goals, and perhaps the feelings that have grown in the time that I have been single, have made me rather selfish. I have grown accustomed to being alone. This is not something like I like, and I am determined to revert this change in my personality, but have succumbed to musing many things about me, my life and more; which at current is leaving little if any time for action.
I have been in this mood since the funeral, which has evidently had an impact on me in a way I hadn’t expected. The entire build up, for me, was readying myself to face something profound. I wanted to be effected; I wanted to find something in the face of death that would help my better understand life. But all I have come away with is more questions. It was a nice service, not that I have another to compare it to, and I was glad to see the relief it brought to certain members of the family. The grief they expelled during the service seemed to lift their spirits and bring finality to the affair, which is good.
But I just have to be different, whereas the funeral marked a moving forward for the rest of my family, it began a period of looking back for me. It just happened to coincide with my first steps back in to the realm of dating, which itself has thrown up all sorts of questions and issues for me to contend with.
Both events have made me realise just how fragile our little worlds are, and how the slightest thing can bring them crashing down; or even extinguish them completely. My world has changed, it’s daunting, but; as always, change is necessary for progression and I don’t want to be alone anymore.
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Defeat Is Always Momentary
Previously on CitizenErased05.blogspot.com...
In defending the world from successive assaults by the armies of Insomnia, Melancholy and Despair our young hero is left powerless and broken. With his mind in pieces, and his soul all but flattened, Citizen Erased looked set to stumble down the path to self-destruction – thus handing ultimate victory to the forces moving against him.
But with his strength and powers eventually returned, young Citizen Erased overcomes the massed armies laid out against him, and sets in motion events that bring him face to face with his ultimate nemesis. General Procrastination.
With a new edge to his resolve, a focused mind, and an imagination positively burning, Citizen Erased is poised to spring into action…
and now, the conclusion...
..anytime now.
What the dickens?
Citizen Erased: Oh, sorry I was just procrastinate-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Fail.
Hello readers. It would seem the war against procrastination is destined to continue for some time yet (so much for my review of Nausea). I hope you are faring better in your own battles.
It is the Funeral tomorrow. I have also said I would be back in the city to celebrate a birthday; ironically, and then I have a meal booked with some other friends & colleagues later in the evening. It is going to be an exhausting day, but my comrade by the name of Vodka will be with me. Together we shall be victorious!
Bonne nuit, dames et monsieur
In defending the world from successive assaults by the armies of Insomnia, Melancholy and Despair our young hero is left powerless and broken. With his mind in pieces, and his soul all but flattened, Citizen Erased looked set to stumble down the path to self-destruction – thus handing ultimate victory to the forces moving against him.
But with his strength and powers eventually returned, young Citizen Erased overcomes the massed armies laid out against him, and sets in motion events that bring him face to face with his ultimate nemesis. General Procrastination.
With a new edge to his resolve, a focused mind, and an imagination positively burning, Citizen Erased is poised to spring into action…
and now, the conclusion...
..anytime now.
What the dickens?
Citizen Erased: Oh, sorry I was just procrastinate-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Fail.
Hello readers. It would seem the war against procrastination is destined to continue for some time yet (so much for my review of Nausea). I hope you are faring better in your own battles.
It is the Funeral tomorrow. I have also said I would be back in the city to celebrate a birthday; ironically, and then I have a meal booked with some other friends & colleagues later in the evening. It is going to be an exhausting day, but my comrade by the name of Vodka will be with me. Together we shall be victorious!
Bonne nuit, dames et monsieur
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Spark In The Dark
Bonsoir readers. This entry is brought to you with the glorious, inspiring, all-encompassing sounds of JS Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor filling my room at a level that might possibly annoy my neighbours. What a fantastic piece of music, it’s the first track on a pretty cool album I found today entitled Halloween - Which is a collection of atmospheric, dark, pieces of music by various composers. It feels a little peculiar playing something that feels distinctly nocturnal when the sun is still shining outside!
Not that a little thing like that has diminished its effect. I put it on as background noise to help me concentrate, but I am spending more time actively listening to that, than typing this. It’s pretty impressive; like a gothic fantasia meets the nutcracker prince (who is also going through a ‘goth stage’) meets Tim Burton’s imagination, meets the musical score to Harry Potter, meets Nightwish. Magnifico! The more enthralled I allow myself to become, the happier my mood.
I had planned on this entry being a weekend recap and a review of Nausea by Jean Paul Sartre, which I finished the other day. But this album has really ignited my imagination. As I sat back in my chair, closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift, to become consumed by a growing sense of a familiar darkness, I found myself in a place I haven’t visited for some weeks, perhaps in months. My thoughts arranged themselves in an orderly queue, and the words flowed with ease. An evasive ending to a promising short I had practically given up on, presented itself; and all but jumped out of my head on to the page.
Sleep will not come to me tonight, I have already conceded as much. But if this surge of creativity holds up then I will excuse myself this one slip. I have after all fallen back into a ‘normal’ sleeping pattern, which is having nothing but good effects. It has given me the energy to start phase two of my life-readjustment. Phase one began in January and saw me systematically cut out anything (and anyone) in my life that was having more of a negative effect on me than a positive one, to coincide with a new(ish) job and a new outlook in life.
It was a sudden and quite drastic move (not so much in the case of people, I’m not that rude). But it was one that I felt I had no choice but to take, if I wanted to set my life back on a path that was in my control. It has been successful, less stress; fewer distractions and more free time have really allowed me to focus on the more essential aspects of my life. I did lose my way recently, as I have documented, but that has passed and so into the second phase - The final battle with procrastination
I feel like David going up against Goliath, such is my tendency to procrastinate. Although progress is being to be made, I have cut down the amount of time I spend online in the evenings; my fascination with facebook has waned, the Xbox hasn’t been switched on for at least four days. Well, except to watch family guy whilst eating dinner – but that doesn’t count! It cannot be coincidence that I am reading a lot more, and spending more time exercising. But that’s only a good thing.
Speaking of good things – I have a surge of creativity to aim at my other writing. So I bid thee farewell, dear reader.
Not that a little thing like that has diminished its effect. I put it on as background noise to help me concentrate, but I am spending more time actively listening to that, than typing this. It’s pretty impressive; like a gothic fantasia meets the nutcracker prince (who is also going through a ‘goth stage’) meets Tim Burton’s imagination, meets the musical score to Harry Potter, meets Nightwish. Magnifico! The more enthralled I allow myself to become, the happier my mood.
I had planned on this entry being a weekend recap and a review of Nausea by Jean Paul Sartre, which I finished the other day. But this album has really ignited my imagination. As I sat back in my chair, closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift, to become consumed by a growing sense of a familiar darkness, I found myself in a place I haven’t visited for some weeks, perhaps in months. My thoughts arranged themselves in an orderly queue, and the words flowed with ease. An evasive ending to a promising short I had practically given up on, presented itself; and all but jumped out of my head on to the page.
Sleep will not come to me tonight, I have already conceded as much. But if this surge of creativity holds up then I will excuse myself this one slip. I have after all fallen back into a ‘normal’ sleeping pattern, which is having nothing but good effects. It has given me the energy to start phase two of my life-readjustment. Phase one began in January and saw me systematically cut out anything (and anyone) in my life that was having more of a negative effect on me than a positive one, to coincide with a new(ish) job and a new outlook in life.
It was a sudden and quite drastic move (not so much in the case of people, I’m not that rude). But it was one that I felt I had no choice but to take, if I wanted to set my life back on a path that was in my control. It has been successful, less stress; fewer distractions and more free time have really allowed me to focus on the more essential aspects of my life. I did lose my way recently, as I have documented, but that has passed and so into the second phase - The final battle with procrastination
I feel like David going up against Goliath, such is my tendency to procrastinate. Although progress is being to be made, I have cut down the amount of time I spend online in the evenings; my fascination with facebook has waned, the Xbox hasn’t been switched on for at least four days. Well, except to watch family guy whilst eating dinner – but that doesn’t count! It cannot be coincidence that I am reading a lot more, and spending more time exercising. But that’s only a good thing.
Speaking of good things – I have a surge of creativity to aim at my other writing. So I bid thee farewell, dear reader.
Friday, 17 April 2009
Strange Days
This entry is brought to you by Corduroy Pillows – They’re making head waves!
Well hello there readers. How has this week been for you? I for one am quite glad to bid it farewell. Although to my relief it does end with me in a much better state of mind than the one in which I languished at it’s dawning. Which is nice.
A few early (ish) nights, and some downtime have really helped me regain control of myself. The fact that today also brought resolution to a few of the larger concerns in my life has also aided the recovery. I would speak more of those, but time is short and they are boring. So onward!
Alas all is not fine just yet, the funeral is next Friday; and I am visiting the parents this weekend, so there are some - Strange? Days ahead. Mind you, everyday is strange in its own way.
I’m not sure how I will feel on Friday. I have never been to a funeral before. As I mentioned in a previous post, the members of my family that have died in my lifetime, have done so when I was too young to attend their funerals; I have not yet had cause to look death in the face. Actually, there have been a few occasions when my own life could have ended abruptly, but those are tales for another time. It will be an interesting experience none the less, and one I feel I should embrace. After all, it is experience that teaches us, defines us. Perhaps gazing upon death firsthand will offer some answers on life? It is unlikely that those answers will be so clearly defined, but the time it will allow for contemplation will prove useful. Though not all my thoughts will be on myself, both my brothers and sister have agreed to go, given how shaken up they have been I’ll be keeping an eye on them.
Well hello there readers. How has this week been for you? I for one am quite glad to bid it farewell. Although to my relief it does end with me in a much better state of mind than the one in which I languished at it’s dawning. Which is nice.
A few early (ish) nights, and some downtime have really helped me regain control of myself. The fact that today also brought resolution to a few of the larger concerns in my life has also aided the recovery. I would speak more of those, but time is short and they are boring. So onward!
Alas all is not fine just yet, the funeral is next Friday; and I am visiting the parents this weekend, so there are some - Strange? Days ahead. Mind you, everyday is strange in its own way.
I’m not sure how I will feel on Friday. I have never been to a funeral before. As I mentioned in a previous post, the members of my family that have died in my lifetime, have done so when I was too young to attend their funerals; I have not yet had cause to look death in the face. Actually, there have been a few occasions when my own life could have ended abruptly, but those are tales for another time. It will be an interesting experience none the less, and one I feel I should embrace. After all, it is experience that teaches us, defines us. Perhaps gazing upon death firsthand will offer some answers on life? It is unlikely that those answers will be so clearly defined, but the time it will allow for contemplation will prove useful. Though not all my thoughts will be on myself, both my brothers and sister have agreed to go, given how shaken up they have been I’ll be keeping an eye on them.
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
A Fleeting Happiness?
I certainly hope not. Hello readers. My rickety little ship seems to have found calm water and I have set a course out of the sea of despondency.
Perhaps some mental victory was won in the night? I definitely feel as though I was at war with something between the intermittent periods sleep that befell me. I have not been so restless in a long time. I lost count of the times I was expelled, half conscious, from a dream back into my room, before falling headfirst into another. It must have been partly due to the humidity last night, I remember waking at one point; thinking I was burning up and that all the bones in my arm had melted, leaving a limp appendage that flopped over the edge of the bed. I had obviously been laying on it, and made it go numb. A point I realised after a few minutes panicking as I desperately tried to straighten arm with my other hand. That made me laugh, and everybody else who happened to over hear my retelling of it.
As this point it occurs to me that you may misconstrue the comment about a ‘limp appendage flopping over the edge of the bed’ should that be the case, for shame!
We’ll have none of that here. Well – Okay, maybe a little!
Moving on, or rather back, to the crux of this entry. I need to make the most this calm spell, because it cannot last, the winds will pick up and waves of woe waylay me before I reach the safety of the shore.
At least I’m thinking straight; I seem to have lost my head a little in the last few days.
It’s times like this that I am glad I blog, sometimes it does inadvertently reveal more about me than I might care for. But I kind of like that, I generally sit down to write these entries late in the evening and type on impulse, not really editing until the following day (and then only to correct spelling mistakes and grammar). I find it interesting to see what I was thinking, and surprising at how much I forgot I thought.
If I could only apply the discipline and effort I put into this blog to my other, maybe one-day moneymaking, writing. I need a muse. I need somebody to kick me up the ass, to bounce ideas off; somebody to inspire me, perhaps without even realising. I need somebody to have late night discussions on the universe, on life, death. I have the urge to write again, typically it shows itself right at the point when I want to switch off and sleep.
I needn’t worry; I think it might be sticking around for a while. It seems as though now my thoughts are straightening out I’m finding myself with a whole host of ideas and am drawing inspiration from quite a wide range of sources. Perhaps I need to rethink my requirements in regards to a muse. Perhaps somebody to kick me into action will suffice.
Perhaps some mental victory was won in the night? I definitely feel as though I was at war with something between the intermittent periods sleep that befell me. I have not been so restless in a long time. I lost count of the times I was expelled, half conscious, from a dream back into my room, before falling headfirst into another. It must have been partly due to the humidity last night, I remember waking at one point; thinking I was burning up and that all the bones in my arm had melted, leaving a limp appendage that flopped over the edge of the bed. I had obviously been laying on it, and made it go numb. A point I realised after a few minutes panicking as I desperately tried to straighten arm with my other hand. That made me laugh, and everybody else who happened to over hear my retelling of it.
As this point it occurs to me that you may misconstrue the comment about a ‘limp appendage flopping over the edge of the bed’ should that be the case, for shame!
We’ll have none of that here. Well – Okay, maybe a little!
Moving on, or rather back, to the crux of this entry. I need to make the most this calm spell, because it cannot last, the winds will pick up and waves of woe waylay me before I reach the safety of the shore.
At least I’m thinking straight; I seem to have lost my head a little in the last few days.
It’s times like this that I am glad I blog, sometimes it does inadvertently reveal more about me than I might care for. But I kind of like that, I generally sit down to write these entries late in the evening and type on impulse, not really editing until the following day (and then only to correct spelling mistakes and grammar). I find it interesting to see what I was thinking, and surprising at how much I forgot I thought.
If I could only apply the discipline and effort I put into this blog to my other, maybe one-day moneymaking, writing. I need a muse. I need somebody to kick me up the ass, to bounce ideas off; somebody to inspire me, perhaps without even realising. I need somebody to have late night discussions on the universe, on life, death. I have the urge to write again, typically it shows itself right at the point when I want to switch off and sleep.
I needn’t worry; I think it might be sticking around for a while. It seems as though now my thoughts are straightening out I’m finding myself with a whole host of ideas and am drawing inspiration from quite a wide range of sources. Perhaps I need to rethink my requirements in regards to a muse. Perhaps somebody to kick me into action will suffice.
Monday, 13 April 2009
A Certain Sadness
Hello readers. I hope you all had an enjoyable Easter.
Mine was eventful. I got the call late Friday evening, if you have been reading my older entries you will already know what’s coming. My grandmother died. One of my brothers called as the parents were on route to the hospital, it was odd. I honestly knew what was coming the moment I looked down at my phone and saw it was my brother calling, the fact that he immediately handed me over to my other brother who could barely talked, confirmed it.
That moment seemed so absurd to me, because despite being pretty messed up already (refer to my previous entry The Night I Lost My Head) I was, at that time, in the middle of arranging a date. I had found somebody new, somebody outside the monotony. Somebody who might help me take my mind off everything else, and with that the prospect that I might find the mental resolve to fight back against the veil of depression that was refusing to be dislodged.
I tried my best to give some comfort to my brother, but I could not find the words. We did manage an exchange before ending the call. I felt, feel, so guilty. I hate to think of my brothers or sister upset, or in pain. I knew they were, but could do nothing about it – I have failed them, many times and again in not being around to offer better support when it was really needed.
Needless to say, the repercussions of this news have dominated my weekend. But nothing official can be completed until tomorrow, because all of the offices were closed due to a double Bank Holiday.
There was one period in which I managed to find some peace. I decided, perhaps selfishly, to go on the date. I was toying with the idea of postponing right up until a few hours before, but I just needed the chance to escape; if only for a few hours, that I went. I’m glad I did. I wasn’t able to put all of my troubles to one side, but the weight was reduced enough for me to recover somewhat and enjoy it.
Unfortunately that respite seems to have been all to brief, as the weight is now firmly back around my shoulders as the monotony of the corporate machine sucks away more of my soul. I am all but drained physically and mentally, and now I have the prospect of somebody new coming into my life in quite a major way. I feel guilty because I think they could be good for me; and perhaps I for her, but I’d rather not subject anyone to this. It’s not fair.
But where to go from here? First and foremost I need to rest, to really relax and recharge my batteries. I need time to think and clear my head, to look at things logically and tackle them one by one. I am so tempted to hop on a plane and do it elsewhere. But I don’t want to run away now, a trip across the continent might cure my wanderlust but it will not solve my problems.
I'll start tomorrow.
Mine was eventful. I got the call late Friday evening, if you have been reading my older entries you will already know what’s coming. My grandmother died. One of my brothers called as the parents were on route to the hospital, it was odd. I honestly knew what was coming the moment I looked down at my phone and saw it was my brother calling, the fact that he immediately handed me over to my other brother who could barely talked, confirmed it.
That moment seemed so absurd to me, because despite being pretty messed up already (refer to my previous entry The Night I Lost My Head) I was, at that time, in the middle of arranging a date. I had found somebody new, somebody outside the monotony. Somebody who might help me take my mind off everything else, and with that the prospect that I might find the mental resolve to fight back against the veil of depression that was refusing to be dislodged.
I tried my best to give some comfort to my brother, but I could not find the words. We did manage an exchange before ending the call. I felt, feel, so guilty. I hate to think of my brothers or sister upset, or in pain. I knew they were, but could do nothing about it – I have failed them, many times and again in not being around to offer better support when it was really needed.
Needless to say, the repercussions of this news have dominated my weekend. But nothing official can be completed until tomorrow, because all of the offices were closed due to a double Bank Holiday.
There was one period in which I managed to find some peace. I decided, perhaps selfishly, to go on the date. I was toying with the idea of postponing right up until a few hours before, but I just needed the chance to escape; if only for a few hours, that I went. I’m glad I did. I wasn’t able to put all of my troubles to one side, but the weight was reduced enough for me to recover somewhat and enjoy it.
Unfortunately that respite seems to have been all to brief, as the weight is now firmly back around my shoulders as the monotony of the corporate machine sucks away more of my soul. I am all but drained physically and mentally, and now I have the prospect of somebody new coming into my life in quite a major way. I feel guilty because I think they could be good for me; and perhaps I for her, but I’d rather not subject anyone to this. It’s not fair.
But where to go from here? First and foremost I need to rest, to really relax and recharge my batteries. I need time to think and clear my head, to look at things logically and tackle them one by one. I am so tempted to hop on a plane and do it elsewhere. But I don’t want to run away now, a trip across the continent might cure my wanderlust but it will not solve my problems.
I'll start tomorrow.
Thursday, 9 April 2009
The Night I Lost My Head
I used to be indecisive, now I’m not sure.
That line could not be truer of me right now. I am lost readers, I really am.
I began this week so full of gusto and determination, a quarter of the year had managed to slip by me unnoticed and I wasn’t about to waste any more of it. Yet as I sit here now, all motivation, all feeling - has been exorcised from me, I am completely empty. What makes it worse is that I cannot point the finger of blame at any one person or event and shout heathen, be gone foul demon (and then chase them with a pitching fork), because I have no idea what has reduced me to this state.
In all likely hood it will have been a combination of things, the current unrest I am experiencing at work, the pressure my family is currently under with a death looming, attacks of Insomnia, and the recent bout of wanderlust has not helped; having only exasperated my sullen mood. As my longing for more exotic climates and adventure gave birth to a hatred for the monotonous, pointless existence I currently lead. Some of that anger is escaping in the direction of people close to me, which is causing me to withdraw in fear of snapping and damaging any relationship, (I guess that shows some part of me still cares enough not to completely self destruct). Whereas I am merely distancing myself from my friends, I am completely losing interest in those ‘acquaintances’ and general faces that mill about around the peripheries of my little world. Each day sees me withdraw deeper into my head and further away from reality, I know I should be fighting against it, but I just don’t care. All the joy has been ripped out of my life, and I am finding it really hard to recover it.
So far, so simple, but the fun doesn’t end there. Up to this point I have ignored the other effects of this most wondrous cacophony of gloom. I wake up tired, having apparently not slept properly, despite forcing myself into early nights, (finding the motivation to just get up is becoming somewhat burdensome). Most of the time I am walking around with so many thoughts screaming at me, that my head feels heavy; as though encased in ice. Coherent thought is becoming a luxury, gained only after multiple coffees and a fight to concentrate on any one thing for more than a few seconds. That has lead to my current flow of creativity stuttered abruptly.
The only time I seem to have a clear head right now is when I am running, and running so hard my heart is thrashing against my ribcage and my legs burn under the strain. Yet whilst all this is threatening to pull me into a pretty messed up place, I seem have become incredibly aware of myself and to seemingly random details of my surroundings. Colours will appear more vivid for no apparent reason, contrasts between textures, size and distance become more pronounced. I have become fascinated by the sky; I think I spend more time looking at it, than at where I am going. Especially when I am running (good combination, I’ve almost ran into three moving cars so far).
Yesterday evening I ran along the river under a full moon that sat proudly in an otherwise clear sky. The sun hadn’t long been down so the sky was that dark aquamarine colour, that tends to follow a warm day; and the buildings in the distance were just beginning to disappear into the expanse above. I slowed down to watch the reflection in the water, which was almost as still at the sky. The sight was so serene, and so inviting that for a moment I was able to forget everything.
I flicker of content in a sea of despair. That’s all I need to find a way through.
That line could not be truer of me right now. I am lost readers, I really am.
I began this week so full of gusto and determination, a quarter of the year had managed to slip by me unnoticed and I wasn’t about to waste any more of it. Yet as I sit here now, all motivation, all feeling - has been exorcised from me, I am completely empty. What makes it worse is that I cannot point the finger of blame at any one person or event and shout heathen, be gone foul demon (and then chase them with a pitching fork), because I have no idea what has reduced me to this state.
In all likely hood it will have been a combination of things, the current unrest I am experiencing at work, the pressure my family is currently under with a death looming, attacks of Insomnia, and the recent bout of wanderlust has not helped; having only exasperated my sullen mood. As my longing for more exotic climates and adventure gave birth to a hatred for the monotonous, pointless existence I currently lead. Some of that anger is escaping in the direction of people close to me, which is causing me to withdraw in fear of snapping and damaging any relationship, (I guess that shows some part of me still cares enough not to completely self destruct). Whereas I am merely distancing myself from my friends, I am completely losing interest in those ‘acquaintances’ and general faces that mill about around the peripheries of my little world. Each day sees me withdraw deeper into my head and further away from reality, I know I should be fighting against it, but I just don’t care. All the joy has been ripped out of my life, and I am finding it really hard to recover it.
So far, so simple, but the fun doesn’t end there. Up to this point I have ignored the other effects of this most wondrous cacophony of gloom. I wake up tired, having apparently not slept properly, despite forcing myself into early nights, (finding the motivation to just get up is becoming somewhat burdensome). Most of the time I am walking around with so many thoughts screaming at me, that my head feels heavy; as though encased in ice. Coherent thought is becoming a luxury, gained only after multiple coffees and a fight to concentrate on any one thing for more than a few seconds. That has lead to my current flow of creativity stuttered abruptly.
The only time I seem to have a clear head right now is when I am running, and running so hard my heart is thrashing against my ribcage and my legs burn under the strain. Yet whilst all this is threatening to pull me into a pretty messed up place, I seem have become incredibly aware of myself and to seemingly random details of my surroundings. Colours will appear more vivid for no apparent reason, contrasts between textures, size and distance become more pronounced. I have become fascinated by the sky; I think I spend more time looking at it, than at where I am going. Especially when I am running (good combination, I’ve almost ran into three moving cars so far).
Yesterday evening I ran along the river under a full moon that sat proudly in an otherwise clear sky. The sun hadn’t long been down so the sky was that dark aquamarine colour, that tends to follow a warm day; and the buildings in the distance were just beginning to disappear into the expanse above. I slowed down to watch the reflection in the water, which was almost as still at the sky. The sight was so serene, and so inviting that for a moment I was able to forget everything.
I flicker of content in a sea of despair. That’s all I need to find a way through.
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Wanderlust
Stifled inspiration and wanderlust have all but obliterated any coherent thought over the last few days. It all began with the most un-notable of moments.
I had just about finished my lunch break. I put the book I was reading down (Nausea, Jean-Paul Sartre) and took a moment to watch the way the sunlight crept into the canteen; which was empty but for me, and etched patterns into the surface of the metal tables that shifted as the clouds past in front of the sun.
Out of nowhere I was overcome with an urge to write, I don’t recall having anything particular in mind, just that I had to write something; anything. I felt as though I could turn my mind to any of the projects I have ongoing, and finish them in no time at all. Unfortunately I was right in the middle of a working day, and could not exactly go back to my desk and starting working on a short story or novella; something tells me that I may have had questions asked of my performance.
I was able to subdue the urge, but that only succeeded in triggering a desire to start drawing. Then, as the sun swam into the office and I could feel the warm air through the open windows, my mind packed up and ran away in to memories of places I have passed through.
I floated away in a daydream, outstretched on the top deck of a floating diner; ambling along the Danube soaking up the sights and the sun. Then I was transported to Rome, where I looked down on the city from the ramparts of the Castel Sant’Angelo; with Verschaffelt’s Angel looking down on me. I was reminded of the time I spent in the Carmargue Region, Arles, Port-Carmargue, Aigue-Mortes, watching the flamingos from a hillside; sketching away contently. Or sat in the walled city, watching the people pass by whilst my friends discussed our next destination. Before finally finding myself in Saint Helene and Nice, cuddling up under a palm tree as a storm flashed up out of nowhere, as locals and travellers alike fled for cover around us.
Oh sweet memories. They only fuel my desire to embark on more adventures!
I find it a little strange, how the arrival of some really nice weather has led to me wanting to leave these shores as soon as possible. I think holidays will be booked this weekend, lucky I’m working some overtime at the office to pay for them!
Conversely, now I am home; and in a position to write, I find myself struggling to work on anything other than this entry. Damned inspiration, why does it persist in striking me down in the moment I cannot act upon it?
My muse obviously takes pleasure in my pain. The Bitch.
I had just about finished my lunch break. I put the book I was reading down (Nausea, Jean-Paul Sartre) and took a moment to watch the way the sunlight crept into the canteen; which was empty but for me, and etched patterns into the surface of the metal tables that shifted as the clouds past in front of the sun.
Out of nowhere I was overcome with an urge to write, I don’t recall having anything particular in mind, just that I had to write something; anything. I felt as though I could turn my mind to any of the projects I have ongoing, and finish them in no time at all. Unfortunately I was right in the middle of a working day, and could not exactly go back to my desk and starting working on a short story or novella; something tells me that I may have had questions asked of my performance.
I was able to subdue the urge, but that only succeeded in triggering a desire to start drawing. Then, as the sun swam into the office and I could feel the warm air through the open windows, my mind packed up and ran away in to memories of places I have passed through.
I floated away in a daydream, outstretched on the top deck of a floating diner; ambling along the Danube soaking up the sights and the sun. Then I was transported to Rome, where I looked down on the city from the ramparts of the Castel Sant’Angelo; with Verschaffelt’s Angel looking down on me. I was reminded of the time I spent in the Carmargue Region, Arles, Port-Carmargue, Aigue-Mortes, watching the flamingos from a hillside; sketching away contently. Or sat in the walled city, watching the people pass by whilst my friends discussed our next destination. Before finally finding myself in Saint Helene and Nice, cuddling up under a palm tree as a storm flashed up out of nowhere, as locals and travellers alike fled for cover around us.
Oh sweet memories. They only fuel my desire to embark on more adventures!
I find it a little strange, how the arrival of some really nice weather has led to me wanting to leave these shores as soon as possible. I think holidays will be booked this weekend, lucky I’m working some overtime at the office to pay for them!
Conversely, now I am home; and in a position to write, I find myself struggling to work on anything other than this entry. Damned inspiration, why does it persist in striking me down in the moment I cannot act upon it?
My muse obviously takes pleasure in my pain. The Bitch.
Friday, 3 April 2009
Pain for Pleasure
Pain, suffering, death I feel. Something terrible has happened. Young Citizen erased is in pain, terrible pain.
Okay, perhaps that was a little over dramatic (not to mention geeky) way to begin his entry; but admit it. You love Yoda, who doesn’t? Well, the Emperor I guess. But lets move on. I have managed to pick up another injury, the second this year, again through pushing myself too hard in training. A muscle strain and hamstring combo meant I was on a road trip to painsville. I had to strap my left calf up with pressure bandages so I could walk on it, which was fun. It isn’t a major problem, so hopefully I will be training again soon. I get bored when I’m not pushing my mind and body to the brink of destruction! …I have issues.
In other news, Gordon Brown hosted the latest G20 conference London yesterday; which seems to have been largely successful. The majority of the headlines prior to the meeting were concerning the rifts between the “Franco-German Alliance” and the US & UK over financial regulatory measures and further borrowing to stimulate the economy; with President Sarkozy (France) supposedly ready to walk out on the conference if it did not yield solid results. Thankfully it did not come to that. In fact, both he and Chancellor Merkel (Germany) praised the outcome of the conference.
The big headline grabber was the news that secretive tax havens would now face sanctions and tougher regulation. Already the OECD (Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development) has begun to name and shame non-cooperative havens, it will be interesting to see how that story develops. It was also announced that Bankers pay and bonuses will be more stringently regulated (no surprise there), and that hedge funds will now fall within the global regulatory net. I believe agreements were also made to introduce more uniform accounting practices, and to develop a common approach in regard to cleaning up Banks toxic assets.
Jon Stewarts (The Daily Show) take on the American coverage of the event was as hilarious as ever, drawing attention to the amount of reporting that was invested in following Michelle Obama’s fashion choices, and the overly enthusiastic coverage of certain news-anchors to the Obama’s meeting the Windsor’s.
We need a news channel in the style similar to those in America! One where the news anchor gets emotional and excited over the news, a channel where every big story is accompanied by its own theme tune and a crazy amount of graphics showing as many statistics, in as many ways as possible.
Okay, perhaps that was a little over dramatic (not to mention geeky) way to begin his entry; but admit it. You love Yoda, who doesn’t? Well, the Emperor I guess. But lets move on. I have managed to pick up another injury, the second this year, again through pushing myself too hard in training. A muscle strain and hamstring combo meant I was on a road trip to painsville. I had to strap my left calf up with pressure bandages so I could walk on it, which was fun. It isn’t a major problem, so hopefully I will be training again soon. I get bored when I’m not pushing my mind and body to the brink of destruction! …I have issues.
In other news, Gordon Brown hosted the latest G20 conference London yesterday; which seems to have been largely successful. The majority of the headlines prior to the meeting were concerning the rifts between the “Franco-German Alliance” and the US & UK over financial regulatory measures and further borrowing to stimulate the economy; with President Sarkozy (France) supposedly ready to walk out on the conference if it did not yield solid results. Thankfully it did not come to that. In fact, both he and Chancellor Merkel (Germany) praised the outcome of the conference.
The big headline grabber was the news that secretive tax havens would now face sanctions and tougher regulation. Already the OECD (Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development) has begun to name and shame non-cooperative havens, it will be interesting to see how that story develops. It was also announced that Bankers pay and bonuses will be more stringently regulated (no surprise there), and that hedge funds will now fall within the global regulatory net. I believe agreements were also made to introduce more uniform accounting practices, and to develop a common approach in regard to cleaning up Banks toxic assets.
Jon Stewarts (The Daily Show) take on the American coverage of the event was as hilarious as ever, drawing attention to the amount of reporting that was invested in following Michelle Obama’s fashion choices, and the overly enthusiastic coverage of certain news-anchors to the Obama’s meeting the Windsor’s.
We need a news channel in the style similar to those in America! One where the news anchor gets emotional and excited over the news, a channel where every big story is accompanied by its own theme tune and a crazy amount of graphics showing as many statistics, in as many ways as possible.
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