I'm gonna break my rusty cage... and run

 

My moods are lately cycling between depression/despair, and a kind of almost euphoric optimism.  It's fun for the whole family, I can tell you.  I saw an ad in the morning paper to take part in a clinical trial looking at depression -- "Great," I thought "This is one clinical trial where they won't exclude you for having a history of depression."

As a sidenote, if it wasn't for the fact that I'm a bit of a screw-up and didn't exactly ace the first interview, I am reasonably sure that I would have been turned away from joining the RAF because of a history of depression.

Anyway, I was rejected for the study after all -- because I had psychotherapy last year when I was out of work and depressed.  It was early and I was tired and I should have called it by its proper name of Cognitive-Behavioural Therapy, and it wasn't even what they were asking me about -- which was if I'd ever had Electro-Convulsive Therapy or the like.

But I was talking about moods.  The other morning, as I was walking to the station, I was thinking about the song Given To Fly, which ranks up there as one of my favourite songs ever.  I love the message of an ordinary person discovering unexpectedly an exraordinary ability, and as a child growing up I used to wish every birthday that I could fly.  Sometimes now when I am unable to sleep or just want a distracting daydream, I'll imagine being able to fly and sit up on quiet rooftops in the dark, unnoticed.  I was thinking about that song and how I want to be "given to fly" myself.  Not just literally, but metaphorically -- I want that brilliance, I want to feel that inspired.  I guess I have to be the change I want to see.  Wasn't that something Buddha said?  Either that or it was Henry Ford, and I get the impression those two gents were quite different people.

Where the video comes into all of this is that it's another message that I love and is becoming a mantra of mine -- I'm going to break my rusty cage, and run.  It says I am not going to be confined, I am not going to be caged, I am not going to be limited.  I am bigger than all of this.  I am going to break my rusty cage, and I am going to be free.

Also, for such an inspiring song the video is hilariously 90s.  I love that Absolute Radio have recently lauched their Absolute 90s station (and only wished it played more 90s alt rock), so it's very fitting -- but as I say, the whole thing is hilarious, with the crazy camera work and jumping all over with the guitars.  Thankfully Chris Cornell has got more quietly intense over the years.

Breaking out of my rusty cage at the moment means I have to do something.  Sure, my job sucks and I don't know what else to do -- but in the meantime, what I can do is write more, and if I want to one day do stuff with adventure sports then I need to put down the remote and actually get out there.  We'll see how I get on with it all.

At the recruitment office

As mentioned before, I took last Monday off work sick so that I may have my first formal interview about joining the RAF as an officer.
I had various doubts and concerns, but I felt it was something I *needed* to do. Maybe I felt I had to prove something, maybe I wanted to give two fingers to all the people who said they didn't think I would be able to do it. Maybe I was just looking for a radical change in my life.

For better or worse, on Monday I put on my best black suit, a crisp white shirt and went along to the recruitment office to see what I could do. I was asked to take a sear when I arrived by someone from the army, and so I dutifully complied. Taking orders already, I though, by the end of the day I'll be marching, shouting and using terms like "collateral damage".

The recruitment office is a great place for people watching, when you're tucked away in a corner with nothing better to do -- nothing better to do aside from occasionally looking at your notes and trying to remember the names of different aircraft and where they are based. There was a promotional video showing -- as there is in these places, practically on a loop -- and I could see the backs of the heads of three people. It annoyed me I couldn't see any more of them as I was dying to know how they were reacting to the video which was all jump cuts and flashing images and made life in the army look very exciting. When the video finished the three people stood up. Two of them I was surprised to see, since they were middle-aged and didn't seem the "type" to be considering such a career. The man made some comment to the woman he was with about wishing he was 20 years younger. Then it dawned on me. These middle aged people were a couple, accompanying their young teenaged son. The boy didn't say anything I could hear, but from what I could gather it seemed to be along the lines of "that looks good, I have no further questions". I hoped his parents would take him home and make sure he fully understood everything and that the promotional video was about as objective as a party political broadcast in China. The kid looked dumber than a bag of hammers. Not that there's anything wrong with that, a vocational career could well be the best thing to happen to him -- and to learn a trade in the armed forces better still.

I was kept waiting for almost an hour altogether, although I was greeted properly before this and told the wait was because they hadn't been told of another interviewee coming earlier. I thought this was pretty shoddy organisational skills for the armed forces, they should have synchronised watches or whatever it is they do to prevent these sorts of things.

When eventually I was lead to an interview room I was presented with my previously completed application form and informed that they needed more information or corrections in some places. There were several questions where it would say "if applicable" and ask you in such a circumstance to answer a question, like about how long you had been married or if you were currently sectioned on a mental health order. Since it wasn't applicable, I had skipped these questions -- but the answer they didn't tell you about beforehand was that in these circumstances everything had to be answered "n/a", so they didn't think you'd just missed the question. It's good to know that HR departments are the same for whatever job you want to do. I was also called upon to provide more details of extra-curricular activity for when I was at school 10 years ago, and provide dates for how long I have enjoyed reading as a pasttime. Since I was able to read, I would imagine, and before that I liked to be read to. I still do, actually, and sometimes if I'm alone and really enjoying the way something is written, I read it out loud, to increase my enjoyment.

Finally, after waiting to be seen then providing extensive details, we got to move on to the interview itself. A lot of it was like the application form, with an unhealthy interest in what I did at school and what I liked to do in my spare time when I was 16. I had to explain that while now I list things like surfing, snowboarding and rock climbing among my interests, at school the list wouldn't have stretched much beyond reading. Certain things I felt counted against me -- a lack of involvement in youth organisations, a desire during my time in education to avoid positions of responsibility, and that damn Duke of Edinburgh's award that I never finished. That last one was a pretty stupid move on my part -- I got the bronze award, I got the silver award. I started the gold award, almost froze to death on Dartmoor, spent a week hiking and camping in the Black Mountains in Wales, and even spent a week renovating a canal in the midlands -- which involved an unfortunate accident between a brick and my hand. But I never completed the other parts of the award because I went to university and was more interested in drinking and girls. I should have completed the bloody thing, but I didn't.

I was asked some questions I wasn't expecting. Like how her majesty's armed forces have a fairly relaxed position about drug and substance abuse, so long as it isn't a current problem for you. And did I have any such problems? I assured them no, and was asked if I had ever had any contact with drugs. Sure, some contact with them, I said, but I'd personally never indulged myself. They then asked me what I thought about such things generally. Totally not a question I was expecting, and I expect my libertarian soul shone through at this point when I effectively said it was none of my damn business what someone else chooses to do in the privacy of their own home.

I was also asked some probing questions about Iraq and Afghanistan. I was asked to explain the reasons for the invasion of Iraq -- try talking about weapons of mass destruction without being sarcastic, it's not easy. I think I did a reasonable job of it, explaining how we had every reason to believe there were WMD, and Iraq was being uncooperative, so there was little choice left. Why did I think we were still there, they asked me, since no WMD had been found? I explained that Iraq was a very volatile situation and to leave it now would risk it descending further into violence and civil war and most likely falling into the control of war lords. I said I believed in such a situation it could end up becoming an Islamic theocracy, and could potentially destabilise the whole gulf region. I was asked similarly about Afghanistan -- we invaded, the Taliban was removed from power, why are we still there? I don't personally think we should be there, but I also don't think it is the solider's job to question this, just as it isn't the policeman's job to question the legitimacy of the law. He might personally think that cannabis should be legalised, but he can't let that affect his application of the law. Of course, I didn't say any of that.

I was quizzed about my understanding of the job, and of the officer selection process, and about various aircraft -- and that was it. I'd been there about 3 hours by this point, and they invited me to stay around a while longer while they gave me feedback and told me what their personal recommendation would be regarding my progression. I thought it over, and told them thanks but no, ta -- I was racking up a tidy sum in parking charges (since I foolishly had parked in the "short stay", not expecting to be more than 2 hours), and they were going to put it in the post to me anyway.

I didn't have to wait long. By the middle of the week I had a formal letter following my formal interview, telling me quite formally than I wasn't going to be progressing any further with my application this time -- but that in a year's time I would be welcome to reapply, if I so desired.

This rejection can join the ranks of the rejections I received for all the bar manager jobs I applied for (including the graduate training schemes), every journalist job I ever applied or was interviewed for, and of course every last permanent PR job I went for -- not to mention any freelance job I actually interviewed for.

I can justify it all quite well. My heart wasn't really in it, as we saw before, and so when I should have been cramming about attack aircraft I was blogging instead, and I had so many questions. I don't think anyone other than my Dad and my therapist ever really thought joining the armed forces was a great idea for me -- many lovely people were supportive of it, if it was something I wanted, and many agreed that the discipline and security would do me good. I expect the competition for places for a nice, tidy admin job in the air force would have been stiff -- competition for officers places even more so.

I'm not broken hearted about it, but I do feel a bit like the people who said I couldn't do it were right.

Shavian wonderings and the air force

"Your pious mob fills up ballot papers and imagines it is governing its masters; but the ballot paper that really governs is the paper that has a bullet wrapped up in it.... when you vote you only change the names of the cabinet. When you shoot, you pull down governments, inaugurate new epochs, abolish old orders and set up new." George Bernard Shaw Major Barbara

I have my first "formal" interview for the Air Force on Monday, and I'm now wondering if the whole thing is a stupid idea. I remain sure that the discipline and structure would probably do a lot for me, and for how I view myself. I also think the role I would be carrying out as an officer would stimulate and challenge me, and that I could do the job very well.

So why the doubts?

I know people around me think it's an extraordinarily bad idea, or that I am just not suited to it at all. I get told that I'm a dreamer or that I'm too gentle (which feels a lot like being told I am effeminate) and that I couldn't handle it. It's no secret between me and my friends that I don't know if I could kill someone -- and surely that's quite important if you're looking to join the armed forces. There has also been doubts cast on if I would be able to handle emotionally people close to me dying.

I do have issues with being able to separate myself. It's funny, in a way -- sometimes I can be so detached from things, and sometimes I really don't feel like I attach to other people very well at all. But in other ways I can't put that distance there when I need to. As a journalist, I hated sitting in court hearings -- assaults, murders, abuse cases, I couldn't leave it at the door.

I should be preparing for this interview, and yet I feel incredibly uneasy when I am researching various air craft and read about their weapons capabilities. Maverick infrared missiles, cluster munitions, general purpose free-fall bombs... Does war determine who is right, or only who is left? There is certainly no room for doubt or intellectual debate within the armed forces.

I list among my reasons for wanting to join wanting to grow up and get out of the stupid, childish minsdet that the universe should revolve around me -- my whole life has been me!me!me!me!me!. I want to be part of something bigger than myself, I want to give myself to a simple cause. But ironically, isn't this reason still a very egocentric position? It's still all about poor, tortured Jay, trying to find out who is and where he should be.

I know I have to try or I will spend my whole life wondering, and the more people cast their doubts the more stubborn I am in wanting to prove them wrong. But I am still unsure if I am doing the right thing.

UPDATE: None of it really matters now -- I got my rejection letter today. But I am welcome to reapply in twelve months.

Every drop of flame

On Monday night, I drove Dune to her cousin's flat in South London -- where she will be staying for a week or so, she says to give my parents a rest, and to give us all a chance to miss her. It's funny how quickly you get used to having someone around, my parents agree that the house seems quiet now, and my Mum in particular loved having a girl about the place.

I've been driving a lot the last couple of days -- having spent Sunday delivering meals to the sick and needy, which meant navigating the mean streets of East London on my own as they were a person short so I didn't have a navigator. The driving and navigating wasn't so bad -- in fact, I've sometimes thought on occasion a satnav would be more reliable, as there have been so many navigators who struggled with left and right, stuttered when giving directions, or just had to be given a little help map reading. All lovely people, don't get me wrong, just not your first choice of navigator. Unfortunately, what a satnav can't do is entertain you, help you bag up the meals, or drop the meals off at the door while you turn the car round. Instead I had to find somewhere to park (rather than just beaching the car like a whale, as I normally do), hide the valuables, then bag up the meals and deliver them and all the rest. It was hard work. I got an email today asking if I could drive again this Sunday because they were a driver short. It is going to have to be at least a month before I'd want to do it again.

You might think after Sunday's driving I wouldn't have wanted to drive to or around London again -- but there was no way on earth I was prepared to see Dune struggle with trains and tubes with her bags. It wasn't easy for the two of us to transport them from the airport to my car when she arrived, and that was with a baggage trolley -- I would have sooner carried the bags on my back like a donkey than I would have made her take the train. I like to look after my friends, and I can know they have arrived safely if I take them myself.

Driving at night when the rounds are quiet and the air is cold, you can turn the stereo up and it almost feels like you're in a movie. When Dune and I were driving home from the airport when I first picked her up we commented on something like it -- a particular song came on and we remarked it felt like the introspective, soul-searching part of the film where the protagonist struggles with a decision they must make. The people you pass in the streets seem like extras, all playing their parts to the best of their ability -- but when you stop at traffic lights, you still lean over and lock the doors.

To be completely honest, I'm in a bit of a strange emotional state at the moment. It would be too hasty to say I am regressing to where I was when I started therapy, but I have to remind myself that I didn't stop therapy because I didn't need it, I stopped because I couldn't rely on my therapist. I dreamed last night I turned up at his house just like I had always done (since that was his office) and although he seemed surprised to see me, he wasn't that surprised, or mad that I had stopped. Just the same, I am noticing myself being quiet and withdrawn when I don't want to be and am sometimes troubled with recurring thoughts.

In other news, I have my first formal interview with the RAF booked in. I was avoiding their calls for ages -- since I had to fill in yet another application form and was having doubts if I was doing the right thing -- but I reminded myself this is something I have to do, or else always be wondering.

2007 roundup

Yes, it's that time of year again where I take my lead from my fellow bloggers and post a looking backwards/looking forwards New Year post. And it looks a bit like this.

Work

I started 2007 working in a call centre. I was handling insurance claims for a mobile phone provider, and while I enjoyed it if I felt like I was helping people, for the most part it was pretty soul-destroying. I hated being yelled at by customers, I hated not being able to just get a cup of water if I wanted one, and I saw nowhere for me to go in the job. It seemed if I stayed there, the best I could do was eventually be a manager -- and they didn't seem much happier.

In April, I quit the job without giving notice. One Friday afternoon I finished early because I had been working early shifts all week, and I got a phone call from a recruitment consultant. Would I be interested in a freelance-to-permanent job with this one major PR agency in London? I jumped at the chance, and they took me on without an interview. The job never went permanent, they said because my role was combined with a more senior role which they recruited for instead -- but I wouldn't have got it anyway, becuase I wasn't "right" for the accounts, which included beauty products.

I spent much of the rest of this year in freelance PR contracts -- being paid well, but never knowing when the next job would come along, and never making the move to a permanent role. I interviewed for more agencies than I could possibly count -- I even met the same agency in Southampton twice. Most notably, I took myself on a road trip to Brighton for one job, and came close to actually succeeding. The interview was the best I've ever had, and the interviewer -- who also owned the company -- told me how much he liked me, how much he thought we had in common and that I was his favourite for the job. But he was troubled that I didn't live in Brighton, as ideally he'd like someone who knew the area. Needless to say, I didn't get it.

By October, I was fed up with being rejected for every job I went for -- including freelance contracts -- and instead applied for a Christmas temp job in a local bookshop. After a very casual and surreal interview, I was offered the job and grabbed it with both hands. I am due to finish this week, and am a little sad about it as I enjoy the work. Although there isn't really anywhere for my "career" to go, and I didn't spend 4 years and however-many thousand on university education to work in retail, I would probably stay if I was offered a job. I could do with staying in one job now for a decent length of time, and I would rather be happy and paid less than miserable and paid more. We shall see what happens.

In November I decided to stop thinking about it and just do it, and filled out a formal application to join the RAF -- in an officer/administrative position. Who knows what will happen with it.

In December I sent Christmas cards deliberately late when the cards were reduced in price after Christmas to a number of old PR contacts, including my business card, as has now become habit. There's been no response yet, but I was bargaining on nobody being back at work until late this week or early next week. I don't expect anything much, but it was worth a try.

Music

Music remains such a big part of my life that it has to get its own heading. This last year, like most years, I struggle to remember all the bands I have seen. Off the top of my head I can count Nine Inch Nails (twice), Smashing Pumpkins (the first time was amazing, the second was so bad I felt almost personally betrayed), Chris Cornell, Pearl Jam, Ben Folds, Foo Fighters, Aerosmith, Suicide Bid, the Sex Pistols, Sonic Boom Six, The Filaments (in what Pete insists will be their last-ever show), Silversun Pickups and so many more at Reading Festival. I am still wearing my Reading Festival wristband, even though the festival was in August. I work with a girl who is still wearing her wristband from 2006.

2008 is already shaping up to be a good year for music, with tickets already bought for the Gutter Twins, Foo Fighters and Reading Festival -- although Jon has suggested we maybe try and see fewer bands this year (exceptions being the likes of Led Zeppelin and Chris Cornell). How long it will last is doubtful.

Girls

I guess maybe it should be "relationships" as I briefly tried to meet guys through online dating as well -- but finally understood, at least partially, what it is like to be a girl. If you want no-strings sex with strangers, then the world is your oyster -- but you'll be lucky if all you do is catch something nasty. If you actually want to try and meet someone worthwhile, or if worthwhile is too strong a word, then at least someone you could imagine being with, then your options suddenly diminish very rapidly. In the end, the farthest I got was a brief correspondence with a guy, before it fizzled out.

And I haven't fared too much better with girls. I've posted ads, and replied to ads, and again had brief correspondences going. I have come to understand that I shouldn't send a picture of myself too soon as they don't do me any favours, but instead try and build an interest with my winning personality. I know that the best way for me to meet people is more likely going to be offline than through any sort of personals ad, and I thought I had found what I was looking for when I met a cute girl at a punk gig. She was on her own, I was on my own, we had a few beers and really enjoyed each other's company. But either I tried my luck too soon or just wasn't what she wanted, things fell apart with Claire. Just the same, it has shown me to at least try and talk to people and make conversation, even if I feel shy.

Blogging

This would perhaps be better titled bloggers, since the writing itself ain't much to write home about. After first meeting in 2006, China Blue has now become a bona fide real life friend this year -- I've cooked for her, she's met my friends and my cat, and we almost set fire to a bar in Shoreditch last month.

I also met the lovely Elizabeth last June, and although we only spent a few hours together, I am hoping to see more of her when she returns this year.

2008 promises to be an even better year for meeting Bloggers, since Dune is coming to England in six weeks and will be staying with me for a time -- and hot on her heels to these shores will be DownHomeGirl at the start of the summer. I hope to meet WDKY at some point this year, since it seems absurd to me to live so close and read one another's blog, but not meet, and various other bloggers visiting or moving to London I also hope to meet.

Travel

Ha, that's almost a joke this year. A trip to Barcelona fell through near the start of the year, but I hoped with my well paid freelance PR contracts to be able to see some of Europe -- with Paris, Prague, Rome and Venice joining Barcelona on my list. I didn't even leave the country. The closest I got was when I drove to Bristol for a job interview -- and briefly considered driving the extra miles to Cardiff, since I've never been there. There was no surfing in Portugal last year, no snowboarding in the French Alps, not even a week's surfing in Cornwall. I already have plans in place to visit Spain this year, but I think there's also going to need to be a week or so doing something adrenaline-fuelled.

Anyway, despite the lack of overseas travel this year, I have spent many weekends by the sea in Portsmouth -- including a very enjoyable birthday there, and still consider it a very plausible place to live when I am looking for work. As mentioned, I also successfully navigated trips to Bristol and Brighton, the latter without even the aid of sat nav. Like Portsmouth, I was very taken with both cities and the more I see of the country the less I understand the desire for everyone to move to London. Sure, I love London, and would like to live there too -- but I also love Manchester, and Portsmouth, and Brighton -- there's so many great places to be.

As well as some overseas travel (not least to Paris, it's so damn close, I can't believe I've never been), I shall also endeavour to see more of England this year. When it's always there, always available, and not going anywhere, you don't necessarily feel any pull to see these things -- I am going to put that right this year.

Home life

I still live at home. This has to change. Although it seems the British are in some ways abnormal among Europeans for their desire to leave home as soon as possible, it doesn't offer me much comfort. More and more people I know are moving into houses with their friends, almost like students, as house prices in Britain become increasingly ludicrous -- but the comforting thing is these people don't have amazing jobs, so with some kind of reasonably paid, full time job and a few like minded friends, 2008 could be the year I finally move out for good. And will probably take the cat with me...

Sailing towards the edge of the earth

"We're so trapped that any way we could imagine to escape would be just another part of the trap. Anything we want, we're trained to want...Our real discoveries come from chaos, from going to the place that looks wrong and stupid and foolish." -- Chuck Palahniuk

After however-many years of going back and forth, of will-I-won't-I and indecision, I made a decision today. I had the day off work, with it I went to the armed forced careers office, and I signed an application form. It's precisely because being in the military seems to someone of my personality type as wrong and foolish that I am doing it -- because anything you want you are trained to want. I am Columbus sailing towards disaster at the edge of the world.

There is also the eternal dilemma though that I do want it, that I do think it is a good idea. I want to prove something to myself, I want to be part of something larger. My whole life has been mememememe. Oh, poor Jay, he feels abandoned. Poor Jay, he feels neglected. Poor Jay, he's never going to be a movie god or a rock star. I want to devote myself to something bigger than my ego. Of course, by doing so I am obviously also feeding my own ego -- it's all another part of the trap of our culture. I also want to prove something to the rest of the world. I am not a slacker. I want to prove something to the people who say I would never make it through the basic training, or that with a history of depression they will never even accept my application.

The latter is something that I do need to look at -- in filling in the application form which was more like an examination booklet, I hesitated where it mentioned if you have had two or more incidents of deliberate self harm. I can't count the times any more -- but I think my saving grace will be that on the record, there is only one, and that was 5 years ago. I am going to request to see my medical records and correct anything on them I think is incorrect -- like that incident I have reason to suspect was recorded as a suicide attempt, when it wasn't anything even resembling one.

The application process is very long winded and will involve several different interviews, not to mention a physical exam -- for the latter I really have no excuse not to start going to the gym again.

Aside from the marching, the shouting, the wearing a uniform, the following orders and the general fact that it is the military it all seems like a good idea. There would be travel (meet interesting people -- then shoot them!), job security and opportunities to get paid to do things like go rock climbing. And you never know, I might rock that whole uniform look.

So to summarise, I work in a bookshop and have decided it's a good idea if I join the air force. It all makes perfect sense.