Are we all narcissists now?

Friday night was a break from the usual fare in London for me. I was invited to a Philosophy meetup by a trusted colleague of mine.

The topic was on the role narcissism has in our lives today, looking in particular at how the modern sense of self is constructed in cyberspace and asking "are we all narcissists now"? Being completely self-absorbed, I was sure this topic was all about me.

I've seen some feedback since from people commenting there was too much psychological theory and wasn't enough philosophy, but I really enjoyed it. I will readily admit I didn't understand all of the psychoanalytic theory about childhood development, but was mainly interested in how narcissism relates to cyberspace.

After the talk, there was a Q&A which quite quickly turned into group discussion -- the discussion was meant to follow afterwards, but I think after a couple of glasses of wine some people couldn't help themselves.

What was interesting to me was that earlier that day I had interviewed for a new job in an online PR and social marketing role -- if only the interview had followed the talk, I could have had some interesting points to raise. In particular, what fascinated me on the night was how people of my parents' generation view the internet and social media.

Of course, there was the usual line "young people spend too much time in front of computers and don't get out enough", and some discussion sparked by a man who said his nieces post endless pictures of themselves on Facebook -- pictures in which they are rarely doing anything at all. Was this young people emulating celebrities who are constantly being "papped"? Was it just them copying their peers?

What made me think was the suggestion that Facebook "friends" are not an indication of real life friends, as one woman described it these people won't come round and make you a cup of tea if you have the flu. To be honest, I don't think anyone I know offline, with the exception of the girl -- would ever make me hot drinks or bring me soup if I was sick. Maybe if I had come out of hospital, or had a serious illness, but other than that I doubt anyone much would notice. However, I think that many people I know online if they knew I wasn't well would at least offer sympathy.

To suggest that online friendships are somehow inferior to people we know physically, in person, in real life, I think is a fallacy. The girl recently spent a week making a quilt for a fellow blogger's new baby. I have personally exchanged greeting cards with many bloggers and sent them postcards when I have been away, yet don't do the same for some real life friends. I think not having met someone doesn't make them in any way less of a friendship. Before the internet, I was nerdy enough to have penpals. Although I have long since lost touch with all of them, I still think at the time it was reasonable to call at least some of them friends.

I don't know the statistic for online friends and how many you can actually actively sustain. Granted, not everyone I know on Facebook I would call a friend -- but they all pass the "pub test": if they asked me, would I be willing to meet them in real life for a friendly drink. At least once. If the answer is no, they don't make the list. So there's an old boss of mine, who gave me work when I really needed it -- and probably still would now. There's guys I snowboarded with in France one year. There are people with whom my only connection is I have read their blog and they have possibly visited mine, out of politeness. But I still think every one of them counts as a real connection.

Blogging is essentially narcissistic. Even if you aren't a personal blogger, you are either presuming that anyone else would want to read what you write, or you are gazing into it -- like narcissus into a pond, perhaps.

I am no better than anyone else, and possibly slightly worse than most. I am incredibly self involved. I have been writing online since I was 18 -- that will be 12 years this summer. And even -- like with this blog -- I get almost no encouragement to keep writing, I still do it. I can't maintain a paper diary on a regular basis, but on the internet I pour my heart out for decades at a time.

Oddly, though, I have such terrible self image issues I can hardly bear to see myself -- literally, see pictures of myself. I almost never post pictures of myself here, not out of privacy concerns but because I hate the sight of myself. I will often "untag" pictures people post of me on Facebook, and some days I can hardly stand to see my own reflection -- which is worse than a photograph, since it looks at me with disgust or contempt.

Despite this, if I can't see myself I am incredibly vain. I text messages to the radio station while I am cooking -- just to have whatever fake name I use mentioned on air. They usually don't read the message out, but it's satisfaction enough to know if it amuses the DJ.

Maybe the internet is worse for giving people unrealistic expectations. It used to be, ordinary people would only ever be spotted in the street to be a model or maybe actor -- or very occasionally heard singing and given a record deal. Now you can get a book deal by Tweeting shit your Dad says (which usually amuses me), or a record deal based on songs recorded in your bedroom and posted on MySpace. You can get a book deal from your blog. So many people are chasing these dreams, and taking it personally when it doesn't happen to them.

Does cyberspace make us all narcissists? I don't think it does. I don't think "young people" who post pictures of themselves are doing it because they love themselves, and I don't necessarily think the more friends (or readers/followers) you have online necessarily equals a higher ego. Just more connections.

If anyone reads this -- I'd love to hear your thoughts, but to give you some idea on what, I guess some questions would be helpful:
1) Are "online" friends lesser than "real life" friends? Why, or why not?
2) Since you're on the internet, are you a narcissist?
3)Does cyberspace make us all narcissists?

Concerns on the implications of frozen pizza

The recent disappearance and sad demise of Joanna Yates has led me to ponder many things, not necessarily directly related to the case.

And speaking of cases, similar ponderings arose following the unusual death of the MI6 agent found dead in a holdall in his own flat.

In the days that followed the disappearance of Joanna Yates one piece of information seemed to be repeated with almost reverance in every report I came across: she had bought a Tesco Finest mozarella cheese, tomato and pesto pizza. Not she had bought a pizza, or a cheese and tomato pizza, but how specific the description always was. Even today in news reports there seems to be an odd focus on the pizza.

As a former (read: failed) journalist, I understand the need for details. I get how your editor wants to know every. single. last. fact. in. detail. I get how if your report of the baby choking death on a tree ornament on Christmas eve covers every detail other than the colour of the bauble, you will be expected to call the grieving parents to ask: was the ball red or green. I'm not sure I understand the need to constantly repeat this detail as if it was some vital piece of information.

But what bothers me now is when after the pub, I stop by Tesco on my way home and buy a pizza. I worry. What if something happens to me. What if I go missing. What if the one piece of information that is constantly repeated about me is that I bought a pepperoni pizza. Not a Tesco Finest pizza. Not a Pizza Express pizza, even though they were on half price, but instead he bought a basic pizza. And a bottle of beer. If I bought more than one bottle, would it be speculated I planned to share the bottles, or just that I had a drink problem? You can end up thinking too much about these things.

As for the "suitcase spy". Yes, he was found dead in a bag in his own flat with no evidence of foul play -- other than that he couldn't have locked himself in a bag. This is an outstanding angle. And there was always going to be salacious or malicious gossip about his sexual preference. But what bothered me was how bad the pictures were of him, in the early days of the investigation.

If you are going to die an unusual death, or go missing in a high profile case (no pun intended) make sure there aren't any embarassing or just plain bad photos of you that might be used in news reports. That photo of you with Y-fronts on your head and pencils up your nose might end up being the one used in all the newspapers. Take the time, get some professional modelling shots done -- just to be on the safe side.

And only buy takeaways that say positive things about you, rather than a 6 pack of special brew and a copy of Razzle.

Innernetz, I need your help!

It's Thursday, and by all rights I should today return to the much-neglected and Gala Darling-inspired Things I Love Thursday posts.  Except it's hard for me today to list the things I love -- or at least make it interesting.

The last couple of days in London, it's seemed like it has barely got light -- the rain has been torrential, and almost constant.  We can't complain too much though -- it's a subtle reminder of how bad things are in other parts of the world, like Africa and Asia -- Pakistan in particular.

The cloud and the rain is also a useful metaphor for how I've felt this week, and increasingly over the last couple of weeks.  I've been saying it almost from the day I started in this job, but I really have to get out of here -- it has been particularly painful this week.  Naturally, there's been no more talk of the marketing position I was offered a few weeks back -- so there's no way of knowing if or when that will happen, or if it will even be a job worth taking.  Right now I am just feeling stranded in a job I hate, with no way of knowing what to do to get out or to change it.

So, innernetz, I am asking for your help.  I am sincerely hoping there are more people reading this than I think, otherwise it's to an audience of one.  If you're pushed for time, just scroll down to the parts in bold for the action items -- then come back for the rest later.  You know you'll want to.

I was struck yesterday by something someone said on Twitter.  Inspired Entrepreneur Nick Williams had a short, simple message that said "Your creative and spiritual gifts are a perfect match for someone else’s needs and wants".  While I have some doubts about any "spiritual" gifts I have to offer (due to my skepticism about the existence of any kind of "spirit"), I do truly believe that my creative gifts -- my skills -- would be a perfect match for someone.  I'm a talented guy.  I write well, I'm creative and imaginative, I am easy to get along with and undemanding.  I am also very passionate when something engages my interest.

And this is why I need your help, Innernetz.  Being good just isn't good enough today, especially not when there are far more people than there are jobs.  Ultimately, I want to come to the point where I can turn my unique ideas into something that will earn me a living -- but before I can get to that point, I need to keep working -- and I need to be working in a job that I don't feel is crushing me.

Traditional job hunting is getting me nowhere.  Applying for jobs advertised on the internet places me as one among hundreds of applicants, and I am lucky to get so much as a polite refusal.  Recruitment consultants are unwilling to return my phone calls.  One trusted recruiter, whom I have dealt with over several years, describes my experience to date as "choppy" -- which she feels combines with a lack of recent experience in a creative or media role to give me this current situation: languishing in sales.

We need to a different approach, and something needs to change.  We've heard about the guy who is advertising a promise of 10% of his first month's wages to someone who can get him a job.  We've heard of people walking the streets with a sandwich board requesting a job.  I even heard of one guy, who after being rejected from the same PR agency several times, resorted to erecting a billboard on their front lawn.  It had a childhood picture of himself, and the caption "When I grow up, I want to work for...".  Funny how I can't remember the agency's name any more.

I need a unique angle to demonstrate the skills I have that make me such an amazing employee.  The second prong of the attack is that I also need anyone who reads this to drop me a line with a suggestion of someone I can contract -- a friend, an ex-employer, even a current employer -- who would be able to help me with this job hunt.

I am reading a lot of career change/life coach information at the moment -- including John Williams' "Screw Work, Let's Play", Marianne Cantwell's "Free Range Humans", and Mark McGuinness' "Lateral Action".  The trouble is -- and maybe it's the job (what Mr McGuinness calls "the sensible job that pays the bills but corrodes your soul") -- but I come home every night feeling frustrated, resentful and depressed.  This doesn't fill me with energy and optimism for striking out on my own, if I even knew what I wanted to do or how I could do it.

To recap -- what do I need?  Firstly and obviously, the main thing is I need a new job.  In the absolute short term, I need a job where I can be useful and creative and use my talents.  It doesn't have to be what I am going to do with the rest of my life, but I can't get anywhere when I feel the way I currently do each day.

Secondly, I need your thoughts and your ideas and your help on what I can do to.  Traditional job hunting methods are dead -- I need something that's going to set me apart.

Thirdly, and this can tie in with the second, I need referrals and contacts.  People who will listen to what you say when you tell mention my name.

For the rest of it, I'm on my own.  It's going to be up to me to figure out how to eventually turn "work" into "play", to break free of my rusty cage, and to strike out on my own.  But before I can do any of that, someone get me out of this sales role.

It's all academic

Picture source: Google images

It's a strange feeling this week, with all the news coverage of the A-Level results, to know that it's been 11 years since I got my own. I'll always remember the day: jumping out of bed and running to the front door so excitedly when the postman rang the doorbell.

He wasn't bringing my A-Level results, of course I had to go the school like everyone else to collect those, instead he was bringing me my Ramones Anthology boxset. "I Wanna Be Sedated" has never seemed a more fitting theme tune than it did that day.

My own results were very mediocre, I was a little disappointed but at the same time also relieved as I knew I'd be accepted by at least one of my two universities of choice. I was never going to be an Oxford student.

It seems those golden days are long behind us now, as the news fills with tales of students getting straight A grades, but being denied university places. To my mind, it's a product of schools putting too much pressure and focus on the grades and not enough attention on the rest -- extra-curricular activities, what you actually do with your time. You can get straight A grades, but if you want to go to the top universities in the country you are competing with everyone else who has the same grades.

It's been widely noted on the internet this week that if you read almost any of the major newspapers, you might be misled into believing that only pretty, skinny, white girls got their A-Level results. News coverage all features the same pictures of these photogenic girls "jumping for joy" or hugging each other. Nobody else matters, they seem to say. The question is, with all the attention this disparency is attracting online, will next year's coverage be any different?

Opinions are also divided over the creation this year of the A* grade at A-Level. Personally, I think it's extra pressure that you don't need at that age. I remember on GCSE results day, seeing a girl crying her heart out at being a failure because of her 10 GCSEs, only 9 had returned an A* Grade -- she was crushed to have got one grade A, as if she had failed everything. One could argue that this pressure came from parents or teachers or the girl herself, and had nothing to do with the A* grade being available -- but to my mind, it devalues grade A. Why don't we introduce a double-A* grade for those who do even better?

It was reported that because of the shortage of university places, versus the demand for them, some universities are encouraging students to look overseas. I don't know if such a system exists, but wouldn't it be something if students were able to put their grades -- actual or predicted -- into some kind of international database, to see all the universities and colleges around the world that would be thrilled to have them?

I'm certain there are hundreds, if not thousands, of universities in English-speaking countries or where the courses are taught in English -- and that with straight As or A* grades these universities would be falling over themselves to welcome British students. Perhaps this competition would mean that British universities would have to do more than just exist to attract students to them? I know when I was going to university, it was important to me to be able to have time abroad -- if I could have had the chance to spend the whole time in another country, I probably would have taken it.

But it all comes down to what everyone else thinks. What do you, the two readers of this blog think? Does the A* grade devalue the A? Should students have more access to universities outside the UK? And should schools place more value on things other than straight acadmeic scores?

Croc-wrestling wife-lob dancefloor kingpin's plea

I stumbled onto a story today. I wish I could say I literally stumbled upon, because I think SU is one of the coolest things since English muffins, but instead it was on my Google homepage.

Since my work got all nasty and/or clever and restricted access to a heap of sites, I can no longer access my Gmail in work. It used to be all I had to do was sign into my Google account, go into settings and then click on my email settings. There it would be, my email, looking all pretty and shiny and full of spam emails and very little else. I got so bored the other day I considered setting up a hotmail account just to reply to a spam email about helping them recover the fortune of the deceased president of Papua New Guinea, but I lost interest. I have a very short attention span, I remember one time -- oh look, wrestling...

Anyway, either because I got tech support to upgrade my machine to XP or because I updated Internet Explorer to the latest version (our company webpages don't work in Firefox, so I end up using IE for almost everything) I can't access Gmail at all now. BUT! I can log in to my Google account, which means I can see the snapshot of my inbox and know there is nothing to read in it. I can also see google reader and read the posts in it, so long as I don't try to visit Blogger or Wordpress. I have actually suggested that across the company marketers such as myself should have access to these sites, as well as access to online streaming radio, for media monitoring purposes. I don't think they bought it.

All of this is a very long-winded way of saying Google showed me this story: 'Let me use poo-flinging Roman siege engine against burglars'.

The story is about a man in Nottinghamshire who has been told by police he's not allowed to use his full-size medieval catipult to fire chicken shit at would-be burglars. And as a result of not using it, he got burgled.

The story has so many levels and angles, it's fantastic. On one hand, it's the heart-warming story of a man who has done many, many crazy things -- from firing his wife out of canons and over rivers, to accosting crocodiles who refuse to wrestle on cue. On another it's the classic British right-wing tabloid story of political correctness gone mad -- the man is under attack from criminals, but society is on the side of the crooks. The Daily Mail would have a field day with the story, or at least it would if it could somehow also blame the gays, single mothers and immigrants. If the man was being robbed by single, lesbian immigrants so much the better.

I also like the story because it raises interesting points about defending your property. It is within the law to use "reasonable force" to defend your property if you are, say, being burgled -- but the law also says this has to be proportionate. If you are being attacked by lunatic ninjas (real ones, not injured kangaroos) with samurai swords, does that mean you are legally within your right to grab your own Hattori Hanzo sword and take them on? If you were to hit an intruder with a frying pan, would you have to prove in court that you believed they might also have a large, blunt instrument? And of course, the timeless argument of what about guns.

The UK gun lobby claim that Government hysteria after tragedies such as Dunblane have meant that responsible gun owners are gun owners no more, but that illegal guns are now more plentiful on the UK streets than ever before. The criminal underworld is flooded with cheap weapons (funny, I wrote cheap women at first) from former Soviet countries and apparently it doesn't take much to find one of your own. If you were so inclined.

You could argue that it is entirely likely a burglar or robber on your property in the dead of night could have a gun -- so should you have a gun yourself? I remember back when I lived in Salt Lake City hearing about the town of Virgin, Utah, where it was illegal not to own a gun, with which to defend your property.

So what exactly is proportionate, then? One could argue this man wasn't hurling rocks or dead cows at people, only piles of crap -- but given his background, neither would be surprising. Perhaps it is more the booby-trapping of your poperty that is frowned upon -- would it be different if old Grumpy Joe had to run to his catapult in his dressing gown and manually load it?

What does this all mean? Is your home your castle, and do you have the right to defend it? Or is that what the police are for, tackling criminals and illegal activity, while you have the protection of locks and contents insurance? And aside from any of that, would you ever let someone fire you out of a canon?

How Quickly Daft Jumping Zebras Vex

The BBC had an interesting article in its magazine section recently on what it referred to as "The Slow Death of Handwriting".

Reportedly, hand writing is become less and less common and some would say decreasingly important -- to the point where experts speculate our great-great-grandchildren will be unable to read something that was hand written.

Anyone who sees hand written letters or forms on a regular basis will think "so what?" to this concept -- since most handwriting is already largely illegible to anyone, except the writer themselves.

The need for pen and paper is becoming less as time marches on and technology progresses -- and for a large part, I welcome it. I have always been s l o w at writing, and tend to get cramps in my hand if I write for any length of time. On top of this, my handwriting is a mangled, half-printed script. It is by no means beautiful or elegant.

I think my terrible attempt at handwriting was probably part of what hindered me in trying to learn shorthand -- that and chronic laziness, along with inconvenient hospital appointments that used to clash with my Tuesday morning class. But yes, with shorthand it is very important to be joining up your letters, to be able to write clearly, and to be able to write quickly. Since I don't really do any of those three, the odds weren't in my favour to begin with. Just the same, even now I do sometimes my lack of Teeline and the pages of dictation that look like Arabic.

In my job it's not uncommon for me to receive hand-written letters, or hand-written nomination forms for the employee of the month award, from customers. Putting aside the terrible grammar and spelling you so often see, the handwriting itself is a major factor in trying to decipher what is scrawled on the page. I wouldn't call it an ancient art form.

It's said you can tell someone's character from their handwriting. Maybe so, but I've never seen it put to the test nor learned the trick of it myself. I like to hand write letters and sometimes think maybe I should study calligraphy, just to get a vaguely decent looking hand -- but there is so little call for it, and so little point.

Just the same, I'd like to imitate the BBC's request and invite anyone and everyone reading this -- it's hard to tell if anyone does -- to send me scans or photographs of their own handwriting. I will upload my own tomorrow when I find my own example. Simply copy out the phrase "How Quickly Daft Jumping Zebras Vex" and send it to me on email, the address should be in my profile. I will feature any and every example I get sent -- and it will look a bit sad if there is only my own to see.

Update: The aptly-named Delightful Jen is first off the mark with this sample of her writing

Update 2:
Tom, a lurking non-blogger, has also contributed a sample of his own writing, which reportedly was once likened to an explosion in a sperm bank. I happen to quite like it.

Update 3: Jamie has contributed her own writing sample, too and tells me: "My penmanship made my teachers cringe. I wrote 'like a boy', so they thought I might be developmentally challanged, but I was either on par or ridiculously ahead of my peers in everything they tested me in. After years of making me practice penmanship over summer vacation, they finally gave up."

It seems there are people visiting here after all -- and I know there must be some more of you, so come on -- put your hands where i can see them.

Heinz deli mayo ad shows two men kissing

Heinz pulls mayo ad after complaints

I don't know what annoys me more; that 200 people complained that the advert was "offensive" and "inappropriate", or that Heinz caved to the pressure and pulled it. Heinz seem to be denying this is the reason, of course, instead claiming that the ad "failed in its message". Only the very naive would imagine that Heinz wouldn't have foreseen the media coverage the ad would create -- although perhaps the email warning campaign by American Family Association is going a little far. Here at least is one group very much failing to get the message of the ad.

It makes me angry that seeing two men kissing should be such a horrific thing and so unsuitable for children (isn't it always about "protecting the children"?), although I'm vaguely amused that people were upset at having to explain to children about the gays.

Interestingly enough, the ad was never shown during or around children's programming because the mayo product being advertised was too unhealthy.

I'm interested, though, does anyone around here agree that the ad was unsuitable for children because two men kissing is different to a man kissing a woman?

The Evil Compass

I hadn't even realised there was any outrage over The Golden Compass until the other day I was on Snopes, checking out what was new in the world of internet hoaxes and urban legends. On the site, there was examples of two separate emails currently doing the rounds -- warning parents of the dangers of the forthcoming film, based on Philip Pullman's first novel in the His Dark Materials trilogy.

In Britain, at least, the first book was called Northern Lights, but I understand overseas it was called The Golden Compass, after the altheiometer which features in all three novels. If you've not read them, you won't know what an altheiometer is, but that doesn't really matter -- it looks a bit like a golden compass, and fits in with the subsequent books being named after important objects in the plot: The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass.

I mentioned the subject of these emails was to warn parents, and in a similar way to with the Harry Potter books, it's because they are apparently anti-Christian. The books may be aimed at teens, but I'd not really thought too deeply into the messages they contained.

I was actually a little surprised that there was no claims that "His Dark Materials" was a reference to the devil, or that the books contained evil magic or heretical ideas (like parallel universes). Instead, they focus on that Philip Pullman is either an atheist or agnostic. Clearly, he must also hate freedom, want to corrupt our children and tortures small animals -- because that what atheists do.

The emails also claim that Pullman intends his books to be the antithesis of C.S. Lewis' clumsy and overtly Christian Narnia series.

I'm slightly disappointed they don't go so far as to accuse him of being satanic, nor attributing wild and hilarious quotes like the ludicrous invented J. K. Rowling quote about Jesus sucking Satan's cock.

The kind of moral outrage and religious panic that these emails embody is rare to England -- and usually reserved for immigrants, refugees, Muslims and video games, all those sorts of evils that will destroy our society and corrupt our children and possibly even steal our jobs and eat our pets. I think, for the most part, even the likes of the Daily Mail will probably be unconcerned about it -- and I'm half tempted to at least try and stir up some. Not that Pullman needs the publicity, last time I checked Northern Lights was currently the best selling paperback in the country.

But really, what this all comes down to for me is that I wholeheartedly approve of the themes behind Pullman's novels. While they are not the rabid anti-Christian rants some would have us believe, they do make a case against organised religion. Although there is no evidence to suggest Pullman has ever said as much, if they are intended as the opposite of Narnia, I couldn't be happier. If it is okay to expose children to one viewpoint, it is not only okay but important to expose them to counter-views.

I personally have described myself as both atheist and agnostic, although I lean more towards agnosticism since I don't believe one can ever know for certain and like the Nietzschean perspective that we can't ever know if God exists because by very definition the nature of God would be impossible for us to comprehend. I would not want my children growing up into young adults and adults believing in something without having questioned it, or held it up to scrutiny. I would be more upset about films with overtly religious messages wanting to brainwash our children than I would about questioning authority.

The first email describes Pullman as "a proud atheist who belongs to secular humanist societies" -- and I'm wondering why this is somehow a bad thing? I actively welcome someone who is openly agnostic or atheist -- too often people look down their noses at agnosticism as being a kind of wishy-washy inability to commit, or atheism as a lack of values. I would encourage more fiction -- or popular entertainment, or whatever you want to call it -- with counter-arguments to these ideas.

I think the last reviewer puts it best when they reason "[Pullman's] fundamental objection is to ideological tyranny" -- perhaps the kind of ideological tyranny perhaps that is outraged at a differing viewpoint?


And for anyone who has read and enjoyed the books, go here and follow the daemon link to find out what yours what be. Mine is apparently a snow leopard, which isn't bad -- I was worried at first it might be a woodlouse.

On children and sexuality in politics

A friend posted this link online today, how she found it I don't know. But either way, it has prompted me into a post that is long-overdue and much-promised. Ok, I will concede the story is old -- but I somehow doubt if the author has changed her opinions in the meantime. This might need to be two posts to really tackle the issues for me.

I think the title "However much I love my gay friends, I don't want them running the country" is a pretty good place to start with it. The author's general argument can be summarised quite neatly in her own words "Their [the gays] lifestyles are too divorced from the norm. They are not better or worse, but they are different". The delightful Ms Turner goes on to explain that because men are unable to give birth and gay men are somewhat unlikely to be in a relationship with a woman, they are incapable of understanding "normal" people. She uses the age-old argument "I'm not a homophobe, I have gay friends", then goes on to make vast, sweeping and quite insulting judgements. She says her gay friends face troubles no more complex than deciding on a colour of sofa.

Using this argument of lifestyle, are we to assume also that other childless people are also incapable of making "good party leaders or Prime Ministers"? Must one mindlessly contribute to the cancerous growth of the human race in order to truly understand "normal" people? Apparently if you don't have children your life is one big stress-free party.

Ms Turner seems to completely miss the idiocy of what she is saying. She says she has lots of gay friends because she works in the media, and appears oblivious to the fact that the sample size she is basing her conclusions on are both minuscule and completely biased. One could just as easily say that all people who work in the media are shallow and purely self-interested, or just that gay men who work in the media are like this -- but you can't draw any wider conclusions than this.

Aside from a wholly unrepresentative sample on which the author bases her misguided opinions, she completely ignores the idea of adoption (which I suspect she is against for gay men, because as she believes they are too self absorbed) and conveniently doesn't look at straight people without children. It's idiotic, a gay couple can raise a child perfectly well -- and then her points about them never having to take a child to the hospital or make a decision on childhood vaccinations are no long relevant. How she believes a gay couple with an adopted child would compare to a straight but childless couple is never addressed.

So how does this relate to politics? Again, her argument is fundamentally flawed by the people she singles out. A politician disgraced after it turns out he has been cheating on his wife with a rent boy. His sexuality to my mind has absolutely nothing to do with the matter whatsoever. The man is clearly a twat for cheating on his wife, the gender of the sex worker I don't think is relevant. He is a liar and a cheat -- but this is hardly surprising from a politician. Another she criticises for not saying he is gay but that he has previously had homosexual relationships. Again, a bit of a bastard since he previously campaigned on the strength of being heterosexual and therefore better than a homosexual opponent. But once again, no real surprises there. We can draw any number of conclusions from this -- all men are bastards, all politicians lie, or that people who are inclined to lie and cheat are particularly drawn to politics.

Where I end this post and begin my own personal rant is with this little gem:

"...A person's sexual orientation is a little more fixed than their taste in end-of-the-day pick-me-ups.

Frankly, I don't trust a man who says he swings both ways, unless he is a spotty teenager who hasn't sorted himself out yet. Oaten is 41 and Hughes is 54. If they think they are old enough to run the country then surely they are old enough to work out which gender they fancy?"

Lord of entertainment

"A controversial US reality TV show involving children is due to get its first airing on the CBS network.

Kid Nation takes 40 children, some as young as eight, to an abandoned New Mexico desert town where they are left to fend for themselves for 40 days.

The youngsters are meant to create a functioning society with a system of laws, commerce and even a class system.

Critics see the show as a modern version of Lord of the Flies with a Wild West twist."
BBC News

There's a few things that disturbs me about this prospect. Not that children are being apparently left to "fend for themselves" -- somehow I doubt that anyone will starve, or come to any serious harm. But I am disconcerted that they are apparently meant to create "a class system". Why on earth are we encouraging children to create a class system? Forget everyone being equal or any of those other liberal myths our children are brainwashed in the schools -- "Remember kids, some people are just better than others -- and they need to be kept in their place".

I'm amused that they are supposed to create a functioning society -- I guess the key word there is "functioning"; if all they manage is to create a society with great divides between rich and poor and where the majority work for the benefit of the few, well nobody said it was meant to be a perfect society.

And finally, does anyone else who has read Lord of the Flies think it is a colossally bad idea to emulate it? It isn't like they all sat around, holding hands and signing kum-bah-yah -- it was a book about "the darkness of man's heart" and although in some ways Golding was a cretin and had some abhorrent ideas about original sin and 'savagery', at no point do you think it would be a good idea to recreate it.

Wouldn't it have been safer to recreate Lord of the Rings, or failing that the Lord of the Dance? Both are pretty violent in their own way, and with homosexual subtexts -- but I don't think either featured human sacrifice.

I was going to end this post with a choice quote from my favourite anarchist, Edward Abbey. But I have decided instead to take a different approach -- I think this is quite apt:

"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over." - Hunter S. Thompson

News day Wednesday

Japan recalls arm wrestling game

A Japanese arm wrestling game is being withdrawn from arcades across the country after three players broke their arms, company officials said.

Arm Spirit, which is distributed by Atlus, is to be removed from 150 game emporiums as "a precaution".

"We think that maybe some players get over-excited and twist their arms in an unnatural way," a spokesman said.

It might sound silly, but a friend of mine did that exact thing once. They report the machine "isn't even that strong", and quite so -- it's that bit about twisting the arm that's the problem.

James was arm wrestling people in the pub in that way that drunk boys do. For some reason, he was eventually pitted against some kid who thought he was all that but it was widely accepted James would beat. Unfortunately, the angles were wrong.

While the contender knelt on the floor and rested his arm on the table, James was leaning down and occasionally his arm would slip out from under him. Then suddenly it slipped once more, his arm twisted, and the pub went silent at the very-audible sound of a crack.

I think it was what is known as a spindle break, where the bone twisted in a spiral like a corkscrew to break, rather than just in a straight line. He was in plaster for about six months...

News day Thursday -- updated

"Reckless drinking. Sex with total strangers. Many middle-class girls now see holidays as an excuse for behaviour they'd never dream of at home."

from Daily Mail.co.uk

Where are all these girls? I clearly go on holiday in the wrong places.


Update -- I posted this to begin with because it just amused me. But then I got to thinking about it. I really can't stand the Daily Mail and it's Conservative outrage at everything. For one thing, the hypocrisy of it makes me angry -- it's girls getting drunk and having sex with strangers? Unless the girls are getting drunk and having sex with each other (and now you mention it, I think I've seen that video) there are also boys having "sex with total strangers" -- but notice how that's not remarked on? I expect a headline reading "Boys get drunk on holiday and have sex with people they don't know" wouldn't surprise anyone, but it's still the same thing.

And for another thing, who the fuck's business is it anyway? As far as I'm concerned, so long as people are being careful and not spreading disease, and so long as it's consensual, then what's the big deal? It's infuriating to see this sad excuse for a rag fuelling old stereotypes and ideals -- that men should spread their seed as wide as possible, but women should be chaste and virginal. Interesting choice of words that they refer to them as "girls", isn't it? Makes you think of children, makes the readers think of their own daughters -- rather than if you said "women" you would think of adults, who are responsible for their own decisions and actions.

Notice how the paper is still stuck in maintaining the old class system? It's morally outraged that middle-class girls are doing these things, but they probably expect no less from those working-class girls who everyone knows are no better than they ought to be.

If someone wants to go on holiday and have sex with 100s of total strangers, even all at the same time, fine. Let them. As I say, so long as they are careful and it's consensual, it's the individual's right.

As for getting drunk... again, it's not worth the moral outrage. If the newspaper is genuinely concerned about excessive drinking or binge drinking, if it considers the strain this puts on the National Health Service, that is one thing -- but I see no evidence of this, for a start the paper seems only concerned about when it's "on holiday". Drinking is a problem for many adults, men and women alike, and regardless of how much money they earn, but any ramblings by me on that can be saved for another day.

On recent events

There's been so much in the news lately regarding the "terror suspects", the men suspected of trying to blow up London and Glasgow recently. Sometimes it all moves so quickly that there isn't really time to take it in properly, let alone try and think of some kind of relevant comment. However, I can try -- and if it looks rubbish? You people are just going to have to wait.

A major issue with the terror suspects (otherwise known as psychopathic nutjobs) -- at least a major angle for the tabloid press -- seems to be that they came to Britain as asylum seekers and refugees. Naturally, certain members of the press rubs their hands in glee at such a development -- evil asylum seekers and terrorists, if only there was some connection to Big Brother, too. Maybe I'm slow on the uptake, but it seems to me sometimes a point is being missed. The righteous who want our borders shut and bolted, among other things, cite this as good reason. It seems like we offer them refuge, and they bite the hand that feeds it -- as ever is the way, no good deed goes unpunished.

Many of the suspects were refugees from Somalia. I don't think many of us can even begin to imagine the horror of the civil war -- and what it is like to live through something like that, and for whatever reason to have to leave your home. I somehow doubt that these people fled Somalia, planning to commit mass murder in Britain. And so it follows, if they came to Britain as humbled, desperate people then where the changeover happened was within our own country. Sure, we can shut the doors for whatever reason and say that our nation is too much of a soft-touch -- this isn't a debate for today, my point is that there's something rotten within our own societies. I expect someone growing up in Mogadishu during the civil war could have a different perspective on life and a perceived value of life. So you have troubled men, displaced or confused, and then they're exposed to things like radical Islam and convinced the root of their problems lies outside themselves.

It could just be a coincidence, but maybe these men saw the large US oil corporations buying up land in Somalia before the president there was overthrown and the arrival of the US Marines -- perhaps they felt, or were led to believe, the US was an invading army -- taking their resources, taking their land. It could be I'm reading too much into it -- but perhaps they are reminded of it by Iraq. Or even if they aren't, perhaps there are people that have deliberately twisted these things in their minds. I really don't think this is an issue about refugees or immigration.

I don't have any easy answers, I tend to only have questions. If "radical Islamic clerics" are twisting the minds of angry or troubled men with false logic and false justifications in religion, what can we do? We pass laws against inciting racial hatred, among other things, and some people cry it's censorship -- or more often it's the same people that rail against political correctness are the same ones wanting to silence the hatemongers. Personally, I think it's the ideas that are the problem -- and stopping someone speaking them doesn't make them go away. But like I say, I don't have answers, only more questions.

Obviously, I expect 99.9% of refugees have no desire to blow up clubbers in London -- and I'm sure nobody is suggesting otherwise, not even the Daily Mail. And if these men bore no ill-will towards us when they came here, it's not a question of immigration. The fact that one or more of them lied about being from Somalia is a different matter -- yes, these things should be checked, this kind of thing is always a matter of concern, but I still don't think that is where the problem was.

There has been outcry more recently that these men attended some kind of "terror training camp" in the Lake District. Does it strike anyone else as odd that there are apparently terror training camps in the Lake District? Maybe they go hill-walking and have orienteering seminars in the driving rain? Perhaps I should be better read, then I would know exactly what is supposed to go on at these camps in the unlikely British countryside. Stranger still is that they were watched attending these camps by our security forces. This raises more questions about what exactly what's going on if our security services know these camps exist -- maybe there's more of them in places like Dartmoor and the Brecon Beacons, potential terrorists wearing cagoules, sleeping in tents and and trying to read a map as it disintegrates in the rain. Inbetween taking lessons on how to make bombs.

But I digress -- there's terrorist training camps in the British countryside? And our security forces follow and monitor suspects at these camps? Is it a question of at least they know where these camps are, and if they shut them down they might relocate somewhere else and not be able to find them again? Seems to me they should just have people infiltrate the camps, teaching them rubbish and leading the would-be terrorists off into the Dartmoor fog to get eaten by the big cats. Or just teaching them to windsurf instead of bomb making.

I read a columnist this week lamenting that we couldn't arrest the suspects sooner because people would complain they hadn't done anything wrong, yet. Unfortunate as it might seem to some, I think this is quite reasonable -- until perhaps someone sets out deliberately to commit a crime, should we really be arresting them? All that will do is fuel hatred.

It still seems to me the Glasgow bombers had a lucky escape -- it was unfortunate for them that their suicide attempt should have failed, as surely they knew what a mob of angry Glaswegians would do to them. And the mob of angry Glaswegians almost did live up to their reputation and tear them limb-from-limb...

I'm sure there's more to say, but I'm going to leave it there for today.

Wealth and fame, he's ignored; action is his reward

I'm reluctant to post this for similar reasons to why I am sometimes eager to post something new. Sometimes I need to update more, otherwise my last past can seem like a lasting statement -- when it was merely a passing thought. Likewise, I don't yet want to shift the focus away from my last post (as lacking in actual substance as it was).

But just the same, I'm self indulgent enough to want to post today with little more than just bits, pieces and stuff.

Before I dive straight in, I wanted to counter-balance the last post and open up for discussion this piece: The remote Himalayan kingdom of Bhutan is the only country in the world which puts happiness at the heart of government policy.

I wrote -- posted, ranted -- a few weeks back about San's new-found interests with her new boyfriend, and while I didn't miss her or want her back, it grated on me. When I saw her last week and we'd both had enough to drink to just talk completely freely, I told her how I felt about it. She said it was about her trying to be a better, different, more interesting person that was inspiring her to do these things. She also mentioned that it must have been very difficult dating her, sometimes.

Less than two days later she texted me to tell me how she'd just been rock climbing. Unable to just be enthusiastic for her, I replied with "I'm sure my replacement is very proud of you". But I told her to ignore me, that I was just being jealous -- more jealous of her getting to go climbing, or of having a girl that would want to, than anything else.

Our contact is minimal during the week, here and there San complains about not having any work and I try and draw parallels to how much she hated her last job. I know the feeling, it's the same old dilemma of hating work, but also hating being out of work. Friday she emailed me -- with a message titled "Desperation" -- asking for my advice, since she was having no luck finding work. I chose not to take offence that one would have to be "desperate" to ask for my thoughts and advice, and offered what I could -- don't rely on temp agencies, look for work on your own in various places, and consider work experience. If you've not got any work you might as well do something constructive, since you're not being paid either way one will be slightly better than the other. Perhaps don't make it last 6 months like I did, but just the same it's a good idea.

Not dissimilarly, Jon has been asking me for advice recently. It's disarming for me, to be asked by Jon for advice -- he's charming, good looking, easy to get along with and generally well-liked, so it confuses me when he turns to me. This could link back to the Life Less Ordinary post and the slow realisation that followed it -- perhaps none of us are accurate judges of our own worth, or of our influence in other people's lives. It's always surprised me if Jon ever said he admired me -- or, like in this case, where he'd talk to me about his work and ask for advice. I'm hardly making a great success of my life (I frequently feel like an abject failure in most areas), and don't know what to say when he asks "What would you do, if you were me?". But perhaps he feels the same way, and has some distorted view of what he's really like.

Friday night, it was just gone 11 and I was preparing to leave the pub with my friends, when I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. It wasn't just the brief buzz of a message, but the sustained pulsing of a phone call -- I pulled out the phone, and San was calling. I don't know where she was, drunk in some club somewhere in London, but she'd decided she really wanted to call me and talk to me. We didn't talk for long, mostly because as I say she was drunk and hadn't seemed to really want anything and, before too long, people had come looking for her.

I wondered if she only called me because her boyfriend was out of town -- I remember her mentioning something like that earlier in the week. After she'd gone, I sent her a message to say thanks for calling me, it was nice to talk to her, and I jokingly said I knew she called me because nobody else was available. The following morning, I found a text message I'd received -- and apparently read -- at 1am, disputing it. It read: "Not even, I'm just drawn to you". Interesting.

In other news, I am continuing with the story. I am really just plagiarising every idea I have ever had or anything I've ever written, now basing one character's narrative style and personality on the fictional diary I used to keep. And if anyone is interested, I have decided that it is sun spot/solar flare activity that will be the cause of the highly-implausible reanimation of the dead.
But whatever, works, right?

Running The World

All the cool kids are doing it -- no not anal piercing, but commenting on the fucktard Bush's plans for Iraq. Rather than post something insightful and intelligent, I felt this was a good opportunity to wheel out Jarvis. I think he says it better than I can.

smash the system.

They said there'd be snow this Christmas, they said there'd be peace on earth

#"They said there'd be snow at Christmas, they said there'd be peace on earth
But instead it just kept on raining, a veil of tears for the Virgin Birth"#
Greg Lake, "I Believe in Father Christmas"

Some Christmas songs annoy me. I have nothing against Christmas, and I don't hate all Christmas songs -- not working in retail helps with that -- but some songs I do dislike. My major problem -- one of the major problems, for there are several -- one of my many major problems about "Feed The World" is the line "there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas". Call me a pedant, but I like to bring up that there will be snow in Africa this Christmas, Mount Kilimanjaro is snow-capped for a start. And why should "they" care if it's Christmas if they don't follow Christianity? We may as well ask "Do they know it's Divali at all?" (even though it's not) for all the relevance it has. That said "Feed the world" is a nice message, so I appreciate the gesture.

The "commercialism" of Christmas doesn't really bother me -- commercialisation in general does bother me (ironic coming from the guy who worked in marketing and would do again), but after a while I get "outrage fatigue", being annoyed all the time. The commercialisation of "the holiday" doesn't bother me any more than the Christian hijacking of pagan festivals -- like I say, you just end up being outraged all the time.

But I heard "I Believe In Father Christmas" on the radio and it made me sad. Not annoyed or irritated or outraged. Just sad.

"They said there'd be snow this Christmas...instead it just kept on raining"
That sounds a lot like Christmas here, it doesn't snow -- it's not even particularly cold. Sometimes it snows at New Year, but generally it doesn't snow before February. And with climate change, it might just keep raining.

"They said there'd be peace on earth"
I'm not going to talk about Iraq. Or Afghanistan. Or any of the number of countries where people are declaring "to man the weapon, to heaven the victory". There is no peace on earth, instead this Christmas there is a serial killer on the streets of Suffolk, murdering prostitutes.

There's no grand point to this, no large gesture, no lasting comment on this holiday season. I enjoy giving gifts and sending cards to people I care about, I enjoy the spirit of the holiday. But it makes me sad to think about snow at Christmas and peace on earth.

I do like to be beside the seaside

Another week, another weekend away from home. The cat is starting to think we're avoiding him.

I'm pleased to say this weekend involved no drunkenness, and no romantic entanglements of any sort. Not that I was ever entangled with Rachel, romantically or not -- and I can reassure anyone who is interested, that she clearly isn't. A week passed and no word from her, I did give in and send her a second, casual text just to say hi, and that elicited no response. When my cousin Lou texted me about something inane, I asked if she'd heard from Rachel. "Not in a couple of days" she said -- which means she has chosen not to contact me. It's funny, really, that's almost a record -- she lost interest before either of us were ever actually interested.

Anyway, Portsmouth -- home to my much-missed older brother, and his family. He went to university there, and just never came back. These things happen, you go for a degree in sport science but you end up married with a son, and running your own business. I'd like to point out that these all came one at a time.

Inspired perhaps by the three-hour drive between them and their only grandchild, my parents recently bought a flat in Portsmouth -- or technically, Southsea. They've been down there various times so far, and are in the process of decorating, but this was the first time I've seen it.

When I said to them I would like to drive there the first time I went, I really don't think I meant on a Friday night, when I get off the train from work. Out of bed at 6am, get off the train at 7.30pm and then get straight into the car and drive to Portsmouth.
That said, the drive wasn't so bad -- considering I use my car about once a week, to drive to the pub for quiz night, and haven't driven much further than about an hour away. I didn't hit anything or break down or annoy other drivers too much, which is always helpful.

The flat needs a lot of work, but it's spacious and airy with a view of the sea and on a clear day, the Isle of Wight. It's a very short walk to the seafront, and to the funfair on the pier. At night you can stand in the window and watch the lights of the ferries and cruise ships, and the lights of the funfair until it closes for the night.

Portsmouth is a naval city -- the word amuses me, makes me think of navels. It has the historic city, with the old buildings mixed in alongside the new ones built over where second world war bombs destroyed the original sites. Even older are the battlements, built to fight off Napoleon if he'd got that far. Most of the men you speak to in Portsmouth have usually been in the navy -- and of course, there are all of the pubs of a port.

On a sunny day, the seafront seems like a wonderful place to be. Even in the middle of September, the sun was warm and I walked by the sea wall -- the same place where San and I walked the morning before my brother's wedding, several years ago. You can walk by the sea wall, past the men fishing over the side, and breathe in the salty air. Somehow Southend-On-Sea (near where I live) just isn't quite the same.

I've decided to make my parents flat my holiday home, when the sun shines it reminds me of some of Edward Hopper's lesser-known paintings, like Sun in an empty room. I might take a week's holiday soon, and just go stay there on my own. Then again, I'm sure in the cold and the rain of winter, it won't seem quite the same. Maybe I'll find somewhere in Barcelona instead.

Life, or what passes for it

A year ago, the bombings in London left me cold. Terrorism was not new to England, or to London, growing up the threat of the IRA was always there. Even today there is a noticeable lack of bins in central London, in the stations there is a wealth of junk food and no bins to dispose of it in. I'm surprised there's even post boxes.

But this was a different animal.

And then exactly two weeks later, another group of young men tried to do the same thing again. Where are they now? It hasn't occurred to me to think of it since that time, but now I do wonder what happened to those men after they were arrested. Are they in prison, in holding cells? Have they been shipped to some overseas detention centre? I'm not overly concerned for their welfare -- however callous it sounds -- I just dislike how these things disappear from the public eye.

Fast forward just over a year, and our secret services -- or whoever -- foil a major terror attack. Men are in custody, the press are full of dire warnings, and London is on the highest alert possible. The city seemed unnaturally quiet today, perhaps because this level of alert says an attack is imminent.

The trouble can be, though, when do we know who to believe? It was only a couple of months ago that there was a dramtic raid and men were arrested, one was shot, and it was said a chemical weapon attack on the UK had been avoided at the zero hour. Tabloid newspapers were full of warnings of an impending attack, an attack that didn't come. The men were released without charges, without any evidence of chemical weapons or criminal activity, and the police made awkward apologies for shooting one of them.

Then remember even before July 7, there was the time with the tanks at the airport. They wouldn't say why they were there, what they were achieving, we just had to believe we were being kept safe. Sometimes it feels like a lottery. We weren't kept safe on July 7, and two weeks later an attack only failed through luck.

Are these men guilty? Were they planning the largest scale terrorist atrocity we have ever seen? Should the government be allowed to detain without charge potential terror suspects for longer? Or will they soon be released without charges, as just as convenient smoke screen to distract people from other troublesome issues? I have no answers for this, only more questions.

I resent and bristle at the press statements about people who hate freedom or want to destroy our way of life. I doubt very much these people are consumed with rage about people having equal rights to vote. More likely they are displaced, angry and frustrated -- like so many of us can be, like so many of us are. They are easily influenced and easily led and they think Britain sending bombs to Israel or invading Iraq, Afghanistan, is the same thing as blowing up commercial airliners.

But it comes down to what can you do? The official lines are remain vigilant, go about your normal life. Life has to go on. But I wonder, when will it end? Will it ever end? With the IRA there were ceasefires, peace talks, negotiations -- but how do you sit down around a table with people who plan these things? If indeed these things are real at all.

Maybe this is just how life is going to be.

It's not my place in the 9 to 5 world

I was telling San the other day of the age-old problem for me in my life; the eternal question of what am I doing to make the world a better place?

Apparently not everyone feels this same way -- it should come as no surprise, considering the state of various things such as war, greed and global poverty. Most people focus first and often solely on themselves, what are they doing to make their own life better? But somehow that's not good enough for me. I come back to, how does what I do matter? In journalism I found there were various excuses you could make about keeping people informed and entertained, even educated, but really it was about profit. They call PR the dark side not without reason, because here there is really no excuses about educating or informing, it is marketing. Essentially, you work in advertising. It might be a particularly clever form of advertising, it might go hand-in-hand with journalism, but I have no illusions about it helping anyone.

It was brought home to me the other day when everyone recieved a mass email inviting us up to the roof terrace for a glass of champagne, for some announcement or another. I headed up there with various other colleagues, there were various glasses and bottles of champagne and bottles of beer. I went back down to my desk to find my bottle opener, and I'm glad I did as when I got back down there the scenario struck me as absurd and I just went back to work.

An hour or less later, I was called upon to go back up to the kitchen on the top floor and prepare food for a client meeting. It wasn't for an account I work on, I just work for someone who is in charge of the account, which sort of makes me their bitch. I'd already gone out earlier in the day to buy all the food for the meeting, because there hadn't been enough time to get hospitality to provide it. So I went back upstairs to chop fruit and cut sandwiches into quarters and all the drinks from earlier were still out on their trolley. The account exec -- or account manager or director or whoever -- asked hospitality to remove it all, so as not to give the clients the wrong impression.

As I stood slicing fruit and trying to arrange it "nicely" on a plate, I watched half-full bottles of champagne emptied down the sink.

In some parts of the world, people are right now starving to death. In our own city there are people every day struggling to feed their own familes. We, however, can afford to pour bottles of champagne down the drain, if they have been opened. Any food left after these meetings is thrown away -- whether it has been touched or not. San told me where she waitressed the venues were so reluctant to feed the staff, even after work, that entire platters of untouched food would just be thrown away.

So I ask, what am I doing with my life? I told San I have looked at doing aid work overseas, but I have no skills, no qualifications. Nobody needs a writer turned bartender turned PR-assistant. I should be building schools or hospitals, or digging wells, or as San put it "de-worming orphans in Rwanda". But volunteer projects are not only unpaid, but require you to pay them to take part -- to go Indonesia and build homes in devastated communities costs thousands of pounds I don't have. My ideas of working with sea turtles in Mexico again costs hundreds or thousands of pounds.

You could always compromise. You could work for a charity in an every day role, charities and aid organisations need public relations, they need writers, they need accountants and HR people. And maybe that's the way to go, to find the little way you can be making a difference.

Because right now, with my 12 hour days and feeling like I should be happy to come home and watch television for an hour or two before going to bed and getting up and doing it all again... It's not me. I need more in my life, I know, and I tell myself with a regular income I will be able to have things like surfing and snowboarding in my life on a semi-regular basis, I will be able to go out and meet new and interesting people. But I still feel like I should be doing something, something other than getting sportswear featured in consumer magazines.

When Morning Comes

A young British man he strap a bomb to himself
and then he get onto a London bus...
Blew off the roof and explode a nation with fear
We saw the war was coming home to us

Smoke on the underground the train
Go BANG BANG BOOM!
Bodyparts propelled out with the truth
Can't hide the reality now, it looks us in the eye
But why does it take a white face in the hopsital
To demand a two minute silence?

Two million people march along the Thames
Angry at foreign policy
sad the government had
Put them in danger
As they prepare for war illegally

Screaming and shouting
Loud uprise a people now
Falling upon deaf ears,
Said that they be here to protect and serve
But I don't think we really deserved
To be decieved in this way
And now I'm thinking about a revolution

Roots rock rebel
Will I be here when the morning comes?

As civil rights are being reigned back in
Now I'm fearful of the police state
Proud of a culture that rejected the firearm
But now the police shoot an innocent dead
Playing on the terror scare, solution they prepare?
Compulsory ID! In their wisdom?
Protection?! Downpression!!
And they got the nerve to tell me I'm free

We been betrayed, and enraged
And now I'm thinking about a revolution

Roots rock rebel
Will I be here when the morning comes?

(taken from the self titled album, by Suicide Bid. One year ago today; this is not Musical Monday.)



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