Friday 25 April 2014

My blueprint

In Jack Kerouc's novel The Town and the City George Martin attempts to impart a little fatherly wisdom upon his favourite son Peter. It's not about pointing Peter in the direction his father would like to see him. That time has already passed by. It's George's idea of the Golden Rule for anyone who truly wants to live their own life:
 ' Keep your chin up and just wait for the best, or the worst, whichever fate chooses to deal you. But be brave, be gay, be a genuine man whatever you do! That's the way to live. Don't worry, don't repent. Work hard and do your best. It's the most any of us can do.'
Yeah you really do need to be genuine whatever you do. Otherwise you're just pretending. Admit your faults and motives, especially to yourself. Like the things you really like and don't feel embarrassed because collecting Boyzone memorabilia probably isn't cool. Wear whatever clothes you want even if you live in a fashion vacuum. You look so much better when you display a genuine personality. Show your real emotions to people because it is the only way to feel as if you are really being yourself.

Be brave and live your own life. Attack it when the time comes to go after what you want. Believe in yourself with conviction. Prepare well and don't drift. Don't become your parents unless that is genuinely what you want to do. Avoid unnecessary restrictions and procrastination. Make the iron hot by striking. Learn every single day.

Work hard. Man you have got to work hard. This is the one I never truly believed when I was younger. I thought I was smarter than everyone else, better than everyone else. Perhaps I was a long time ago but I've lost it all because I considered working for anything to be trying too hard. I was wrong. There is so much satisfaction in knowing that you really have put in a shift for something worthwhile. Remember that tired happy feeling you get when you have really pushed yourself for something and now you can relax on the sofa?

I try to be genuine but it isn't always easy. Sometimes laziness and lies are an easier option. I am a terrible son, an apathetic brother but only maybe sometimes a good friend. A slave to demons and historically unmotivated as well as a propensity for pathetic attention seeking. Underachieving by my own standards, no-one else really matters here. Still, I'm not a bad person, it's just that there is this one chance at life and then nothing so I might as well make it really me while the game is still running.

Thursday 24 April 2014

drinking

Briefly I was back where I don't ever want to be. Sick and depressed with a dread in my stomach about having to see tomorrow. Pathetically fearing sleep because of the hallucinogenic dream nightmares. Feeling worthless like an old 50p. Three fucking horrible black days. Body and mind ripped apart and strewn out like animal carcass. My only true interlocutor is a blank page I couldn't force myself to write to.

Greasy globules of sweat disappearing beneath my uniform collar. They leave a silkworms trail along my face, stinging my eyes along the way. I think I'm about to have a redbull heart-attack and if it were to leave me unconscious it might even be a result.

Fucking alcohol. Fucking stupid me.

  You should avoid alcohol while taking this medicine. 

I have to come clean this time. I really have nothing or no-one to blame for feeling this way. It wasn't like I needed any encouragement to push the boat out just a little further upon a tide of tequila. I know I suffer from depression. I know I can sometimes struggle with drink depressions. I know I am on anti-depressants and I know better.

Saturday was a great laugh. An absolute belter of an evening. But I think for the first time that even a really fun night on the booze didn't get to within a galaxy of being worth the days after. It has scared the shit out of me in a big way. I really don't want to have to feel like that again. My brain felt to me like it was floating around inside a test tube, banging against the glass. The worst three days of 2014 by far felt as if time had stopped and I was the only person moving. I wanted to be held, dependant, looked after. It wouldn't happen however. 

I don't recommend binge drinking to anyone ever if it leaves you in tears driving home from work two days later like it did for me. That's the thing with these drink depressions, they tend to leave you vulnerable to some emotional conflict that you can otherwise control. In my case it lead to a very disappointing end to something I didn't want to end. It was dead anyway, it's just that it has been said now.

Fucking alcohol again. Fucking stupid me again. 

When you know the risks and do it anyway it doesn't seem fair to go crying to friends even when you really need them. Sometimes a hug makes it just a little better but I don't deserve any.