I think anyone who reads me, or used to read me, will know that I have not made much effort to post updated blogs in a long time.
I wish I could say its because my life has just been so heavenly that I have not felt the need to update things as often. In fact its simply just down to hours in a day, and just not having as much time to fit everything in.
Well that I have decided to change!!
I have decided that I do want to start my blog again, and bring it back bigger and better than it ever was before. But sadly I can no longer do this here with blogger.com. I decided to open up a new one on a new service, and start afresh, this time doing everything as correctly as possible, and in general just being a better blogger.
So I invite all of my readers, whomever, and wherever you are to read my blog here:
http://theunclassified.blog.com/
I also wanted to say thank you all so very much for being with me all the way through, and I hope I get to still see you all in my new blog. You have all been great, and thank you all for the memories and the comments.
It's strange but as I was preparing to write down my goodbye to you, a song from the Muppets just kept repeating itself in my head. The song was a bit sad and melancholic, but the lyrics seem appropriate here.
'Saying goodbye, why is it sad?
Makes us remember the good times we've had
Much more to say, foolish to try
It's time for saying goodbye.'
Goodbye Blogger, I will miss you!!
Sunday, 1 April 2012
Tuesday, 15 February 2011
My Very Best Carrie Bradshaw Impression
Since being back I have tried following my dreams in a completely fulfilling and worthwhile way. Unless you ignore the subtext of most things I post then you know that my dream is to be a writer. So I started writing for a Gay Online Magazine.
I kind of got into it by accident, but I feel so lucky to have the opportunity. I have mainly been writing opinion pieces, but I love doing it.
I can't quite describe the feeling of seeing something I wrote appear on the website, with my name attached to it. The only word that comes to mind, is joy. So simple yet so deeply profound.
Before I knew it I found myself tapping away at my computer constantly tossing around ideas for what to write. I also find myself drifting to other websites trying to pick up new ways of writing, and extending my vocabulary to stay engaging to readers.
It was from this that I found myself offered with another writing job at another online magazine. I'm not going to reveal too many details since I'm still working out the details but needless to say I am thrilled beyond belief.
Anyway to all my readers please google So So Gay, it's supported by some really great writers, and I promised them I would shamelessly plug the site!!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I kind of got into it by accident, but I feel so lucky to have the opportunity. I have mainly been writing opinion pieces, but I love doing it.
I can't quite describe the feeling of seeing something I wrote appear on the website, with my name attached to it. The only word that comes to mind, is joy. So simple yet so deeply profound.
Before I knew it I found myself tapping away at my computer constantly tossing around ideas for what to write. I also find myself drifting to other websites trying to pick up new ways of writing, and extending my vocabulary to stay engaging to readers.
It was from this that I found myself offered with another writing job at another online magazine. I'm not going to reveal too many details since I'm still working out the details but needless to say I am thrilled beyond belief.
Anyway to all my readers please google So So Gay, it's supported by some really great writers, and I promised them I would shamelessly plug the site!!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
New Year, Old Feelings
It's a brand new year and I have had a fair few adventures already. I went to Gran Canaria just after new years and since I got back to work I have been doing pretty well there too. Also if you have been following my twitter feed then you also know I have been writing for Sosogay.org, a great online website for gay guys.
Really it's been the fulfilment of a dream. My work is progressing. My dreams are growing, and even my appetite for adventure has gone from 0 to 60 in no time.
But then, He, came back into my life.
The last time I wrote about him I called him Fitty. He is an ex boyfriend and an occasional lover. I wrote that I was a little worried that he might start to have feelings for me and ruin our casual relationship, or worse, or budding friendship. Well it turns out I called it right on the money, the boy has feelings for me.
My first feeling when he told me was something akin to nausea. As though I had been punched in the stomach, so deep was the shock of his admission. He told me over the phone and I lost a good 3 minutes to total speechlessness. I couldn't quite will myself to speak, and all the while my heart began to *thrum* like an expertly plucked guitar string. I felt it spread and echo through me, that old and familiar chord. That aching almost pulsing and hungry gnawing in my chest. I willed with all my might to banish it so I could focus and fumble awkwardly through the rest of the conversation.
I wanted to beat myself with a stick. Worse I wanted to beat myself with...... a very big stick. I forgave Fitty for my heartbreak, but even so I am wary about the consequences of giving my heart to someone who broke it before. I could still remember clearly that night when we split up. The sound of his crying broke my heart like shattered glass, and that awful sobbing sound that ripped free from my own chest, was like the stuff of nightmares. There was fighting, and crying, then running out into the cold dark night and crumbling and curling in the shade of a worn and twisted tree, almost catatonic with my tears.
I wanted to find a way to articulate all of these feelings to the man on the other end of the phone, but he thwarted me with a few well chosen and heart felt words of his own.
"I am sorry, I know I fucked up before. But that was then, and I want to make everything up to you. Please say you will let me. Please say you will give me another chance!"
He asked me out for 1 date, to see how we feel. I said yes.
Before you judge me dear readers I ask you, what would be worse, a second chance to get your heart broken? Or a whole life lived and sometimes wondering what might of been if I had of been willing to explore the chance. If it doesn't work out, then I will always have my friend and lover still there,if it does....... Well that's a bridge to cross if and when I find it.
I sign off with a very speedy apology. I'm sorry I took so long to get another post online. Rest assured it won't be this long ever again.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Really it's been the fulfilment of a dream. My work is progressing. My dreams are growing, and even my appetite for adventure has gone from 0 to 60 in no time.
But then, He, came back into my life.
The last time I wrote about him I called him Fitty. He is an ex boyfriend and an occasional lover. I wrote that I was a little worried that he might start to have feelings for me and ruin our casual relationship, or worse, or budding friendship. Well it turns out I called it right on the money, the boy has feelings for me.
My first feeling when he told me was something akin to nausea. As though I had been punched in the stomach, so deep was the shock of his admission. He told me over the phone and I lost a good 3 minutes to total speechlessness. I couldn't quite will myself to speak, and all the while my heart began to *thrum* like an expertly plucked guitar string. I felt it spread and echo through me, that old and familiar chord. That aching almost pulsing and hungry gnawing in my chest. I willed with all my might to banish it so I could focus and fumble awkwardly through the rest of the conversation.
I wanted to beat myself with a stick. Worse I wanted to beat myself with...... a very big stick. I forgave Fitty for my heartbreak, but even so I am wary about the consequences of giving my heart to someone who broke it before. I could still remember clearly that night when we split up. The sound of his crying broke my heart like shattered glass, and that awful sobbing sound that ripped free from my own chest, was like the stuff of nightmares. There was fighting, and crying, then running out into the cold dark night and crumbling and curling in the shade of a worn and twisted tree, almost catatonic with my tears.
I wanted to find a way to articulate all of these feelings to the man on the other end of the phone, but he thwarted me with a few well chosen and heart felt words of his own.
"I am sorry, I know I fucked up before. But that was then, and I want to make everything up to you. Please say you will let me. Please say you will give me another chance!"
He asked me out for 1 date, to see how we feel. I said yes.
Before you judge me dear readers I ask you, what would be worse, a second chance to get your heart broken? Or a whole life lived and sometimes wondering what might of been if I had of been willing to explore the chance. If it doesn't work out, then I will always have my friend and lover still there,if it does....... Well that's a bridge to cross if and when I find it.
I sign off with a very speedy apology. I'm sorry I took so long to get another post online. Rest assured it won't be this long ever again.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sunday, 19 December 2010
Memory Lane
The date is not set in stone, but it looks like I will be moving out in a matter of weeks. The house is nearly finished and I am just waiting for the final inspections to take place and then I will be out of my parents house..... at last.
However, as I sit and start to box up my life again I am beginning to feel the weight of the change beginning to settle in. I'm going to be paying a mortgage, I'm going to be paying bills, i am even going to have a tumble dryer. In a sick way I feel like an adult for the first time since I moved back home, and suddenly all my memories are more vivid and powerful than ever.
I'm in the middle right now of clearing out and throwing out all of my unwanted things and boxing up the stuff I want to keep and move over to the new house. However, its become a bit of an emotional minefield, with every other item throwing up another set of memories, good and bad.
This morning while I was clearing out my wardrobe I found my old school sports bag. It packed with two pairs of jeans and some shirts and a battered pair of trainers. I remembered I packed it at 16 when I tried to run away from home after yet another row with my mother, I never left but it was never unpacked. Right next to it was a bottle of vodka, emptied when I drank every night to get over the pain of first love. When I looked at my bookcase I still saw a glass rose he gave me for our first valentines together, it has the word "Forever" carved into the base, sadly the relationship didn't last quite as long. In the bed side cabinets I found my old black and white mobile I got after pestering my parents for nearly a month, then the coloured one I got to replace it about a year later. Old Christmas cards from my grandparents, who are now almost all gone, were tucked in the drawer under my bed, often never read once I extracted the money from them.
Childhood art projects that are little more than sketches, much loved and battered books, clothes I'll never wear again. I see the truth that most people seem to want to ignore. We as a species are emotional pack rats, and it's not just objects that clutter up our lives. Every item is a memory, every memory is a feeling, and every feeling still feels as deep, as painful and as beautiful as they were when we first felt them.
Is it any wonder that we can't bear to part with even the most mundane and awful things that fill up our cupboards and drawers.
I found one of my old school notebooks, half filled with my Law class notes, but mostly filled with doodles and badly drawn penises.... or is it peni for the plural. A shoe box filled with pictures and souvenirs from almost forgotten holidays, most of which in hated at the time. I found the suicide note my mother once wrote after a bad bout of whiskey induced depression. She survived but I kept it to remember how angry she made me, and I wouldn't ever think it was my fault.
After an hour of digging through my memories I decided it was best I stopped. There are only so many scars I can reopen before I need a break.
Not all of my memories are bad though sometimes those are the ones that stand out. I still have pictures of happy times with my ex who I'm lucky enough to still talk to. Old cloakroom tickets from amazing nights out with my uni mates. Ticket stubs from some of my favourite London shows. Everything comes back to me so easily the more I dig through.
It reminds me of the importance of my past in how it has shaped me so far. As I now move out and move on, I look forward to my future, and all the other opportunities to make more memories, good, bad, and both together.
However, as I sit and start to box up my life again I am beginning to feel the weight of the change beginning to settle in. I'm going to be paying a mortgage, I'm going to be paying bills, i am even going to have a tumble dryer. In a sick way I feel like an adult for the first time since I moved back home, and suddenly all my memories are more vivid and powerful than ever.
I'm in the middle right now of clearing out and throwing out all of my unwanted things and boxing up the stuff I want to keep and move over to the new house. However, its become a bit of an emotional minefield, with every other item throwing up another set of memories, good and bad.
This morning while I was clearing out my wardrobe I found my old school sports bag. It packed with two pairs of jeans and some shirts and a battered pair of trainers. I remembered I packed it at 16 when I tried to run away from home after yet another row with my mother, I never left but it was never unpacked. Right next to it was a bottle of vodka, emptied when I drank every night to get over the pain of first love. When I looked at my bookcase I still saw a glass rose he gave me for our first valentines together, it has the word "Forever" carved into the base, sadly the relationship didn't last quite as long. In the bed side cabinets I found my old black and white mobile I got after pestering my parents for nearly a month, then the coloured one I got to replace it about a year later. Old Christmas cards from my grandparents, who are now almost all gone, were tucked in the drawer under my bed, often never read once I extracted the money from them.
Childhood art projects that are little more than sketches, much loved and battered books, clothes I'll never wear again. I see the truth that most people seem to want to ignore. We as a species are emotional pack rats, and it's not just objects that clutter up our lives. Every item is a memory, every memory is a feeling, and every feeling still feels as deep, as painful and as beautiful as they were when we first felt them.
Is it any wonder that we can't bear to part with even the most mundane and awful things that fill up our cupboards and drawers.
I found one of my old school notebooks, half filled with my Law class notes, but mostly filled with doodles and badly drawn penises.... or is it peni for the plural. A shoe box filled with pictures and souvenirs from almost forgotten holidays, most of which in hated at the time. I found the suicide note my mother once wrote after a bad bout of whiskey induced depression. She survived but I kept it to remember how angry she made me, and I wouldn't ever think it was my fault.
After an hour of digging through my memories I decided it was best I stopped. There are only so many scars I can reopen before I need a break.
Not all of my memories are bad though sometimes those are the ones that stand out. I still have pictures of happy times with my ex who I'm lucky enough to still talk to. Old cloakroom tickets from amazing nights out with my uni mates. Ticket stubs from some of my favourite London shows. Everything comes back to me so easily the more I dig through.
It reminds me of the importance of my past in how it has shaped me so far. As I now move out and move on, I look forward to my future, and all the other opportunities to make more memories, good, bad, and both together.
Sunday, 12 December 2010
Confessions of Another Shopaholic
I think that we all have an addiction to something. For some people its drugs, sometimes it's drink, or even food. But addiction isn't confined to just these substances, and if you believe some of the hysteria in the press it is possible to be addicted to almost anything.
For me it has become shopping.
I know what you are thinking, it's such a cliche really. Surely its impossible to be addicted to shopping itself, I tell myself this when I go out on a spending binge. This eventually led to me spending my £1,000 overdraft in 1 months and skipping dinner more than one night in a row because I simply couldn't afford it. This was years ago though, and I comforted myself with the idea that every student is like that, spending on outs and clothes, books and CD's. I mean if everyone is like that then there is nothing wrong, right ?
Now that I'm a few years older, and a few years wiser (I hope) I am a lot more together than I was. But the other day I realised that every time my life felt a little "bleak" the first thing I wanted to do was go out and go on a very very expensive shopping spree. Some people say you can't buy happiness, I say that we have much better stores now, and happiness can be found in ignoring your bank balance and loosing yourself to a little reckless spending.
My latest binge was on Friday. I had dinner plans with a really good mate, one of my efforts of kicking my social life into touch. This mate was also due to come out shopping with me and one of my other mates on Saturday and he was driving me up to the massive shopping centre on the other end of the county to help me out with picking some furniture for my new house. A relief for me a chronic non driver.
10 minutes before I leave the office on Friday I get that horrible text you always dread. He met someone, it was oust at first sight so he wasn't coming out for dinner. He also wasn't driving the next day because he anticipated a heavy night of what he referred to as a "sausage casserole", classy eh?
Now I was disappointed. After all work was stressful, the house is stressful. Me worrying about how I'm going to pay my mortgage and rent out rooms to tenants is always playing on my mind these days. These dinners or nights out help me get out of myself and get me back to thinking clearly. I was also so fucked off that he left it to the last moment to tell me. And cancelling because of his newest playmate ?? I mean how bad is that ?
I stewed all the way home, and when I got in front of my computer I tried to make myself feel better by binging in on some music from iTunes. £100 in 20 minutes on music and films later I felt loads better. And now I'm addicted to the idea of buying a £2,000 laptop when I already have one that works. Now tell me there isn't a problem ......
Socrates himself once said "everything in moderation... including moderation". It's an easy enough quote to understand which tells us to not let ourselves get carried away with extremes or excesses. I am sitting here thinking that they should print those on the receipts from Topman and the Apple store, give little old Shopaholics like me a much needed guilt trip.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
For me it has become shopping.
I know what you are thinking, it's such a cliche really. Surely its impossible to be addicted to shopping itself, I tell myself this when I go out on a spending binge. This eventually led to me spending my £1,000 overdraft in 1 months and skipping dinner more than one night in a row because I simply couldn't afford it. This was years ago though, and I comforted myself with the idea that every student is like that, spending on outs and clothes, books and CD's. I mean if everyone is like that then there is nothing wrong, right ?
Now that I'm a few years older, and a few years wiser (I hope) I am a lot more together than I was. But the other day I realised that every time my life felt a little "bleak" the first thing I wanted to do was go out and go on a very very expensive shopping spree. Some people say you can't buy happiness, I say that we have much better stores now, and happiness can be found in ignoring your bank balance and loosing yourself to a little reckless spending.
My latest binge was on Friday. I had dinner plans with a really good mate, one of my efforts of kicking my social life into touch. This mate was also due to come out shopping with me and one of my other mates on Saturday and he was driving me up to the massive shopping centre on the other end of the county to help me out with picking some furniture for my new house. A relief for me a chronic non driver.
10 minutes before I leave the office on Friday I get that horrible text you always dread. He met someone, it was oust at first sight so he wasn't coming out for dinner. He also wasn't driving the next day because he anticipated a heavy night of what he referred to as a "sausage casserole", classy eh?
Now I was disappointed. After all work was stressful, the house is stressful. Me worrying about how I'm going to pay my mortgage and rent out rooms to tenants is always playing on my mind these days. These dinners or nights out help me get out of myself and get me back to thinking clearly. I was also so fucked off that he left it to the last moment to tell me. And cancelling because of his newest playmate ?? I mean how bad is that ?
I stewed all the way home, and when I got in front of my computer I tried to make myself feel better by binging in on some music from iTunes. £100 in 20 minutes on music and films later I felt loads better. And now I'm addicted to the idea of buying a £2,000 laptop when I already have one that works. Now tell me there isn't a problem ......
Socrates himself once said "everything in moderation... including moderation". It's an easy enough quote to understand which tells us to not let ourselves get carried away with extremes or excesses. I am sitting here thinking that they should print those on the receipts from Topman and the Apple store, give little old Shopaholics like me a much needed guilt trip.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
Friends and Lovers
Compared to most people, I like to think I am a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to romance. Even if I am not so traditional when it comes to my sexuality.
It's the whole Disney Fairytale thing that I was raised with. That cosmic idea at there is one person in all the world that you are destined for..... usually with a lot of talking animal friends which you would only see in real life with the assistance of very powerful narcotics. Either way you went through life knowing the difference, your friends were your friends, and your lovers were usually princes with lots of money and a palace in the nice part of town.
Now as I have gotten older I have accepted that sometimes the lines get blurred.... usually beyond recognition. This has happened to me before too and even though most times it has been good, other times it has left me wanting something I know I shouldn't. At the end of the day I'm wondering if it's really healthy.
The reason I wonder this is because of one guy, as usual he will have an alias, and this time it's Fitty. Obvious reason for this, he is hot as hades in summer, plus for a private and slightly twisted secret in joke.
Anyway Fitty and I go back, in fact we were together for a very long time in my early 20's and we fell fast and hard. Now obviously it didn't work out, it was too perfect, and we ended up just being friends. Which later became friends with benefits....
I won't lie, the sex is unbelievable. The talking is still as deep and meaningful as it ever was too. Really he is like a secret boyfriend who only comes out when we are both single and in that kind of mood. But the reason I worry is that I am not sure what I prefer in this awkward set up, the friend who I have sex with, or the lover who is my friend.
The other day he started off my saying how I was a brilliant lay, and a great person. Which is all true..... but it sounds a little bit like the line is blurring with him as well. Back when we first split up, this would of been great. Now though..... it's not.
Maybe I'm going against my Disney upbringing, but I don't want to settle anymore, I want to be free and to enjoy my life instead of tying myself down to someone who has already broken my heart once. Maybe some lines once blurred can never go back to the way they were. Or maybe in should just shut the fuck up and enjoy the great sex........
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
It's the whole Disney Fairytale thing that I was raised with. That cosmic idea at there is one person in all the world that you are destined for..... usually with a lot of talking animal friends which you would only see in real life with the assistance of very powerful narcotics. Either way you went through life knowing the difference, your friends were your friends, and your lovers were usually princes with lots of money and a palace in the nice part of town.
Now as I have gotten older I have accepted that sometimes the lines get blurred.... usually beyond recognition. This has happened to me before too and even though most times it has been good, other times it has left me wanting something I know I shouldn't. At the end of the day I'm wondering if it's really healthy.
The reason I wonder this is because of one guy, as usual he will have an alias, and this time it's Fitty. Obvious reason for this, he is hot as hades in summer, plus for a private and slightly twisted secret in joke.
Anyway Fitty and I go back, in fact we were together for a very long time in my early 20's and we fell fast and hard. Now obviously it didn't work out, it was too perfect, and we ended up just being friends. Which later became friends with benefits....
I won't lie, the sex is unbelievable. The talking is still as deep and meaningful as it ever was too. Really he is like a secret boyfriend who only comes out when we are both single and in that kind of mood. But the reason I worry is that I am not sure what I prefer in this awkward set up, the friend who I have sex with, or the lover who is my friend.
The other day he started off my saying how I was a brilliant lay, and a great person. Which is all true..... but it sounds a little bit like the line is blurring with him as well. Back when we first split up, this would of been great. Now though..... it's not.
Maybe I'm going against my Disney upbringing, but I don't want to settle anymore, I want to be free and to enjoy my life instead of tying myself down to someone who has already broken my heart once. Maybe some lines once blurred can never go back to the way they were. Or maybe in should just shut the fuck up and enjoy the great sex........
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday, 4 December 2010
Identity Theft: The Tragedy of a Relationship
Do relationships mean the end of your own personal identity? As a single man coming out of a long term relationship I am beginning to think so.
In my experiences relationships come in one of 2 categories. Some are like Fireworks, the are exciting, they explode in a fiery collection of vibrant colours, but when they are over it's like they never existed. But then you have some relationships that are like houses, there's a lot of lead up, a lot of planning, it's slow to build up, but you can build a whole life around it.
The problem with the latter type is that when you get too far in then suddenly you start to loose yourself to them. The 'I' becomes the royal 'we'. I have done this myself, I would talk about a movie and say "we loved that film" or "we thought that cinema was a dive". Doesn't sound awful does it, but it's usually only the start.
Don't get me wrong it isn't a bad thing to do things together. Hell, one of the fun parts of dating is doing lots of stuff together. The problem only really comes in when you start to itch for your own space again, and your own opinion. I have seen this happen to friends, and it's sad. I went to one recently snatched up mate and asked him about his plans for new years. He said he would check with his boyfriend, or to use his actual words "I make sure it is OK with him"...... I am sorry but what the FUCK is with that?!? If you want to do it, do it, if you don't, then don't. bring the boyfriend or don't, and so what if you fly solo? You don't need to be attached at the hip, and if
But then sometimes they are and that's even more disturbing.
You ever see a long term couple in a club? I saw one recently and they were wearing matching colour coordinated outfits *gag*, stayed to the side of the dance floor all night, and stared at all the singles as if they were superior? Normally it doesn't bug me, I have been in a relationship before and probably committed the same cardinal sins. But this time all it does is make me think how pathetic the "modern" couple has become.
Maybe this is only me but a real relationship is not about two people trying to become a single person. I think it's about two different people coming together and staying together, celebrating the things that make them unique. The second you see yourself as a couple, and not a person in a couple, I think it's time to be worried.
Maybe I'm wrong what do you think? Does the royal "we" take precedence to the common "I" or should there be a peoples revolution to give people back their Independence, and their right to their own lives?
In my experiences relationships come in one of 2 categories. Some are like Fireworks, the are exciting, they explode in a fiery collection of vibrant colours, but when they are over it's like they never existed. But then you have some relationships that are like houses, there's a lot of lead up, a lot of planning, it's slow to build up, but you can build a whole life around it.
The problem with the latter type is that when you get too far in then suddenly you start to loose yourself to them. The 'I' becomes the royal 'we'. I have done this myself, I would talk about a movie and say "we loved that film" or "we thought that cinema was a dive". Doesn't sound awful does it, but it's usually only the start.
Don't get me wrong it isn't a bad thing to do things together. Hell, one of the fun parts of dating is doing lots of stuff together. The problem only really comes in when you start to itch for your own space again, and your own opinion. I have seen this happen to friends, and it's sad. I went to one recently snatched up mate and asked him about his plans for new years. He said he would check with his boyfriend, or to use his actual words "I make sure it is OK with him"...... I am sorry but what the FUCK is with that?!? If you want to do it, do it, if you don't, then don't. bring the boyfriend or don't, and so what if you fly solo? You don't need to be attached at the hip, and if
But then sometimes they are and that's even more disturbing.
You ever see a long term couple in a club? I saw one recently and they were wearing matching colour coordinated outfits *gag*, stayed to the side of the dance floor all night, and stared at all the singles as if they were superior? Normally it doesn't bug me, I have been in a relationship before and probably committed the same cardinal sins. But this time all it does is make me think how pathetic the "modern" couple has become.
Maybe this is only me but a real relationship is not about two people trying to become a single person. I think it's about two different people coming together and staying together, celebrating the things that make them unique. The second you see yourself as a couple, and not a person in a couple, I think it's time to be worried.
Maybe I'm wrong what do you think? Does the royal "we" take precedence to the common "I" or should there be a peoples revolution to give people back their Independence, and their right to their own lives?
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
My Gay Adventure
OK if you have been an avid reader you will remember that my ex and I were due to go on holiday together as a couples retreat. We booked it all up back when things were all new and still exciting, and I didnt go after we decided to call it quits a few months ago. He went with his lesbian mate Kylie, and I stayed at home with mother..... drinking.... sad isnt it. Well to be honest it was nice to have time to myself, and time to focus on my house which has almost taken shape in the last few weeks. Also got my money back from the ex..... or i will do after some mild torture.... Bring me my Whip!!!
Now I am not what you would call a natural adventurer, in fact if I was in an action movie I woule be the poor bespectacled librarian type who dies first.But I missed the idea of having a bit of a mini-adventure... I always wanted to have one, just never found the time and the money for it.
Then something extraordinary happened.
One of my best mates called me up and said he was going on holiday, off to Gran Canaria, the gay capital of the world.... after San Francisco, but before Brighton. Now normally in such situations I say I will think about it and will subconciously hope the invite goes away since I never get the chance to do it. But..... this time I decided I need a change, so instead of shaking my head and saying no, I emphatically nodded and said a slightly scared and excited YES!!!! So before I had a chance to take a breath I was booked into a private bungalow in a gay resort.
Now right after this happened my brain started to go into overdrive. I realised all too quickly that I needed to loose 10,000 pounds, get a six pack, and possibly highlights if I was going to fit in on my first holiday in 5 years. I also realised I would need swimwear, new underwear, cologne and a secret stash of condoms..... well you never know ':-/ .
Truth is I am not really as neurotic as my lat paragraph would have you believe. I really am excited and cant wait to go. But I look at the pictures of the resort, and all I see are hot gym fit bodies and perfect hair and teeth. I'm not perfect, I'm not even close, but I want to look my best for my one week in paradise.
So here is the deal. I have 1 month untill I fly out, i have started eating healthier, and I am doing special ab tightening yoga (which is painful and looks embarrasing, but has resultS), and I am off out shopping in soho for some sex on a stick underwear that will hopefully make me *sizzle* in the hot climate.
Tell me the truth, is it wrong to be this excited over one week in January? Or will this be the adventure that movies and trashy airport novels are made of. I can promise you I will be emphatically blogging throughout my adventure, but bear with me in the lead up, I might be unbearable. ;)
Now I am not what you would call a natural adventurer, in fact if I was in an action movie I woule be the poor bespectacled librarian type who dies first.But I missed the idea of having a bit of a mini-adventure... I always wanted to have one, just never found the time and the money for it.
Then something extraordinary happened.
One of my best mates called me up and said he was going on holiday, off to Gran Canaria, the gay capital of the world.... after San Francisco, but before Brighton. Now normally in such situations I say I will think about it and will subconciously hope the invite goes away since I never get the chance to do it. But..... this time I decided I need a change, so instead of shaking my head and saying no, I emphatically nodded and said a slightly scared and excited YES!!!! So before I had a chance to take a breath I was booked into a private bungalow in a gay resort.
Now right after this happened my brain started to go into overdrive. I realised all too quickly that I needed to loose 10,000 pounds, get a six pack, and possibly highlights if I was going to fit in on my first holiday in 5 years. I also realised I would need swimwear, new underwear, cologne and a secret stash of condoms..... well you never know ':-/ .
Truth is I am not really as neurotic as my lat paragraph would have you believe. I really am excited and cant wait to go. But I look at the pictures of the resort, and all I see are hot gym fit bodies and perfect hair and teeth. I'm not perfect, I'm not even close, but I want to look my best for my one week in paradise.
So here is the deal. I have 1 month untill I fly out, i have started eating healthier, and I am doing special ab tightening yoga (which is painful and looks embarrasing, but has resultS), and I am off out shopping in soho for some sex on a stick underwear that will hopefully make me *sizzle* in the hot climate.
Tell me the truth, is it wrong to be this excited over one week in January? Or will this be the adventure that movies and trashy airport novels are made of. I can promise you I will be emphatically blogging throughout my adventure, but bear with me in the lead up, I might be unbearable. ;)
Monday, 29 November 2010
You're a Good Man Jim
Call me weird if you like but I like taking the bus to work sometimes, usually for the same reason I like trains, and planes, it exposes you to a lot of life. I can quite happily sit there with my iPhone buds in, listening to Nicole Sherzingers Poison on a low volume and do a nice round of people watching on the way to work. On this one day I'm glad I did, because otherwise I would of missed something simple, yet heartwarming.
Now as you can imagine, every bus has its share of odd characters, you have your commuters like me, your heavily pierced students, the old couple going to visit the doctor, even your odd functional alcoholic who stumbles past with the unmistakable scent of whisky hanging about her slightly battered bag. But there is one chap who you cant help but notice, if only because you are trying not too.
I am going to call him Jim for a variety of reasons. One is that I am aiming for anonymity (so I cant get in trouble), another is that he has an uncanny resemblance to the actor who plays Jim Branning from Eastenders. Mainly it's because I don't know his real name, and it's too difficult to tell a story without one.
Now Jim is an older man who uses my bus. He walks with a pronounced limp, and always wears the same slightly stained anorak every time I see him. He shuffles along to his seat slowly after showing his pass with his head permanently looking to the floor. He has some mental problems too, though I couldn't tell you what exactly, he only lifts his head to say a rapid rehearsed sentence before letting it drop down to stare intently at his own feet. Whenever I see him it is usually in the company of a carer of sorts with a visibility coat on, and an official looking pass dangling at his waist. But sometimes I see him on his own, braving the cold and the rain to take the bus into town.
I sometimes like to pretend he has made an escape of sorts, and that maybe in the recesses of his slightly different mind he is having his own private adventure. I like that idea personally because I can see my own grandmother doing the same, and when I really look I realise there is not much difference in their ages.
Now on this one particularly cold and bitter day I was sat near the front of the bus and he at the back when the driver stopped in the middle of a busy main road. I could tell there was a single mum there with what looked like one toddler in one hand a pram in the other, which in turn was precariously balancing some bulging shopping bags. It was clear to everyone that she was having some trouble, trying to manoeuvre her various baggages onto the bus, and we were sat there for a while watching her struggle.
It was then that out of the corner of my eye I saw Jim get up!
He shuffled out of his chair and made for the door in his usual manner, with his head facing down and his hands brought up and knotted together as if in prayer. Without a word he reached down and picked up the bottom of the buggy to help the mum push it in and up the steep first step. The mother saw the obvious and tried to insist that she could manage, but bless Jim he wanted to be a help. He got the pram onto bus and even gave the girl some change when she started trying to fuss over her own purse. It was clear that she was speechless at the unsolicited help, but grateful. I distinctly heard the phrase "real gentleman" at which point dear old Jim bobbed his head and smiled at the floor.
It turned out that the single mum and her brood were only in need of a bus for 2 stops, and no sooner had she sat down, than she was up again. Jim was too, to help her on the way out. The girl was gobsmacked, as were a couple of other nameless faces on my bus, I was too as a matter of fact. One of the more gutsy students in the back row even clapped, at which point Jim lifted his head for a quick "Thank ya suh" before shuffling back to his seat again.
It got off the bus feeling surprisingly upbeat. When I thought about it, I knew it was because of Jim. I don't think he intended to give an old cynic like me some faith in the human condition, I think he just saw someone who needed help and helped them, probably the way he was taught to do when he was a boy in an old bygone time when such things were meant to be more common. I wondered about how we tell ourselves about how people like Jim are vulnerable, and need to be cared for. We then spend all our time gradually pretending they don't exist, safe in the knowledge the somehow, somewhere they are being looked after. Yet here he was helping a relatively capable, albeit overwhelmed woman without invitation or even an incentive of reward. It's a nice feeling to think that in some places, with some people that kind of behaviour is still considered a positive.
I am signing off today by saying that I believe we could all learn a lesson from the Jim's of the world, all we need to do is pay attention.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Now as you can imagine, every bus has its share of odd characters, you have your commuters like me, your heavily pierced students, the old couple going to visit the doctor, even your odd functional alcoholic who stumbles past with the unmistakable scent of whisky hanging about her slightly battered bag. But there is one chap who you cant help but notice, if only because you are trying not too.
I am going to call him Jim for a variety of reasons. One is that I am aiming for anonymity (so I cant get in trouble), another is that he has an uncanny resemblance to the actor who plays Jim Branning from Eastenders. Mainly it's because I don't know his real name, and it's too difficult to tell a story without one.
Now Jim is an older man who uses my bus. He walks with a pronounced limp, and always wears the same slightly stained anorak every time I see him. He shuffles along to his seat slowly after showing his pass with his head permanently looking to the floor. He has some mental problems too, though I couldn't tell you what exactly, he only lifts his head to say a rapid rehearsed sentence before letting it drop down to stare intently at his own feet. Whenever I see him it is usually in the company of a carer of sorts with a visibility coat on, and an official looking pass dangling at his waist. But sometimes I see him on his own, braving the cold and the rain to take the bus into town.
I sometimes like to pretend he has made an escape of sorts, and that maybe in the recesses of his slightly different mind he is having his own private adventure. I like that idea personally because I can see my own grandmother doing the same, and when I really look I realise there is not much difference in their ages.
Now on this one particularly cold and bitter day I was sat near the front of the bus and he at the back when the driver stopped in the middle of a busy main road. I could tell there was a single mum there with what looked like one toddler in one hand a pram in the other, which in turn was precariously balancing some bulging shopping bags. It was clear to everyone that she was having some trouble, trying to manoeuvre her various baggages onto the bus, and we were sat there for a while watching her struggle.
It was then that out of the corner of my eye I saw Jim get up!
He shuffled out of his chair and made for the door in his usual manner, with his head facing down and his hands brought up and knotted together as if in prayer. Without a word he reached down and picked up the bottom of the buggy to help the mum push it in and up the steep first step. The mother saw the obvious and tried to insist that she could manage, but bless Jim he wanted to be a help. He got the pram onto bus and even gave the girl some change when she started trying to fuss over her own purse. It was clear that she was speechless at the unsolicited help, but grateful. I distinctly heard the phrase "real gentleman" at which point dear old Jim bobbed his head and smiled at the floor.
It turned out that the single mum and her brood were only in need of a bus for 2 stops, and no sooner had she sat down, than she was up again. Jim was too, to help her on the way out. The girl was gobsmacked, as were a couple of other nameless faces on my bus, I was too as a matter of fact. One of the more gutsy students in the back row even clapped, at which point Jim lifted his head for a quick "Thank ya suh" before shuffling back to his seat again.
It got off the bus feeling surprisingly upbeat. When I thought about it, I knew it was because of Jim. I don't think he intended to give an old cynic like me some faith in the human condition, I think he just saw someone who needed help and helped them, probably the way he was taught to do when he was a boy in an old bygone time when such things were meant to be more common. I wondered about how we tell ourselves about how people like Jim are vulnerable, and need to be cared for. We then spend all our time gradually pretending they don't exist, safe in the knowledge the somehow, somewhere they are being looked after. Yet here he was helping a relatively capable, albeit overwhelmed woman without invitation or even an incentive of reward. It's a nice feeling to think that in some places, with some people that kind of behaviour is still considered a positive.
I am signing off today by saying that I believe we could all learn a lesson from the Jim's of the world, all we need to do is pay attention.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday, 27 November 2010
Reigniting my Social Life
In the good old days of yore, when a young lady/boy/ladyboy reached an age they used to have a big party in an effort to launch themselves into society. These were called debuts, and more recently coming out parties.
The joyful pun you could make out of this is simply too good to resist, so I say I want one now too. I want to have my coming out party, not to "come out of the closet" but to get back out there a little. If I am to be launched however I think it should be like the launch of an intercontinental ballistic missile. Big, flashy, exciting, a little scary, and leaving destruction, chaos and screaming in my wake.
In the spirit of getting back out there I am plotting my return to being a single man on the scene. Sure money is tight, but hell, life is meant to be lived, not to be wasted watching Desperate Housewives (even though I do love that show).
So what's the plan? I guess starting small, maybe some dinner with mates, a drink in a bar after work here and there. Gatecrash a party or two if I'm brave/drunk enough. Then back to my good old clubbing self which I said goodbye to when I was 19, and then the sky is the limit...... Or more literally, my bank balance is the limit.....
OK I get it, I am 4 years older (maybe 2 years wiser) and I have to be responsible too. Well its something I care about, so I will have to try and find the time.
Signing off today I have just text my mate to get some dinner plans on the go, and organised 2 shopping trips with some good mates. Then maybe a trip up to my beloved London for some much needed hustle and bustle in the big city.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
The joyful pun you could make out of this is simply too good to resist, so I say I want one now too. I want to have my coming out party, not to "come out of the closet" but to get back out there a little. If I am to be launched however I think it should be like the launch of an intercontinental ballistic missile. Big, flashy, exciting, a little scary, and leaving destruction, chaos and screaming in my wake.
In the spirit of getting back out there I am plotting my return to being a single man on the scene. Sure money is tight, but hell, life is meant to be lived, not to be wasted watching Desperate Housewives (even though I do love that show).
So what's the plan? I guess starting small, maybe some dinner with mates, a drink in a bar after work here and there. Gatecrash a party or two if I'm brave/drunk enough. Then back to my good old clubbing self which I said goodbye to when I was 19, and then the sky is the limit...... Or more literally, my bank balance is the limit.....
OK I get it, I am 4 years older (maybe 2 years wiser) and I have to be responsible too. Well its something I care about, so I will have to try and find the time.
Signing off today I have just text my mate to get some dinner plans on the go, and organised 2 shopping trips with some good mates. Then maybe a trip up to my beloved London for some much needed hustle and bustle in the big city.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Friday, 26 November 2010
Time to Say Goodbye
Since becoming single I have noticed that my mind wanders to people I have loved and lost. But with no one is it more apparent as it is with one guy, for the purpose of the blog let's call him Ace. For nearly 3 years my mind has drifted to him and I have had that moment, that time where I think about what might of been.
Today after work I met a good mate, a mate who has seen me through a lot of bad shit in my life. And as I was there eating some nibbles he bought for the occasion (sour cream and chive pringles) and chatting about his sex life (his facvourite subject after Doctor Who, and 80's tv), it came out that he has met a new fuck buddy. Sadly all it took was one quick description for me to realise this was the boy who had occupied my thoughts off and on for so long. Ace, my Ace, not mine anymore.
I wasn't angry, not even sad, just a bit bemused. I think in that moment I saw him clearly for the first time. I saw that when I chatted to him off and on that he would only text me or say hi on MSN, if I did first. He would tease me and talk about the good old days when he was lonely. When I suggested a drink or some food, he was always conveniently away, or working or otherwise indisposed. I accepted it, and in silence I ignored his obvious flaws.
I don't know, but I think it's a personality flaw with me. I let a person in my heart, and even after they trash the place I still leave a key under the mat in the hopes that they will find their way back in. Call it low self esteem or whatever, I get it, it's pathetic.
But then why do I let it go on? Simply put, I just don't want to say goodbye. Saying goodbye means closing doors, and moving on, something I know I am not good at. Until today that is.
Today after hearing my friend talk about his passionate new playmate, I decided it's time to be the bad guy and do the right thing. I came home, and I opened my MSN. I deleted him, I blocked him, i took him of Facebook, and deleted his number. I deleted his pictures off my computer, and I deleted his teasing messages and I took a breath to let out all the bad that had been festering inside without me ever really knowing.
I still allowed myself to be a bit sad, but not because I lost him. But because he had now lost me. I can say now this... with absolute certainty and a lack of ego. He does not deserve me.
I close today by saying goodbye. Goodbye to someone who almost was but in the end wasn't, the one who I was so close to being close with. I can't say I won't miss you, and I cant pretend I won't either. But as Rihanna once sang, "now it's time to go, curtains finally falling". I'm walking away, and I am getting on with my life. I hope you find out how to do the same.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Today after work I met a good mate, a mate who has seen me through a lot of bad shit in my life. And as I was there eating some nibbles he bought for the occasion (sour cream and chive pringles) and chatting about his sex life (his facvourite subject after Doctor Who, and 80's tv), it came out that he has met a new fuck buddy. Sadly all it took was one quick description for me to realise this was the boy who had occupied my thoughts off and on for so long. Ace, my Ace, not mine anymore.
I wasn't angry, not even sad, just a bit bemused. I think in that moment I saw him clearly for the first time. I saw that when I chatted to him off and on that he would only text me or say hi on MSN, if I did first. He would tease me and talk about the good old days when he was lonely. When I suggested a drink or some food, he was always conveniently away, or working or otherwise indisposed. I accepted it, and in silence I ignored his obvious flaws.
I don't know, but I think it's a personality flaw with me. I let a person in my heart, and even after they trash the place I still leave a key under the mat in the hopes that they will find their way back in. Call it low self esteem or whatever, I get it, it's pathetic.
But then why do I let it go on? Simply put, I just don't want to say goodbye. Saying goodbye means closing doors, and moving on, something I know I am not good at. Until today that is.
Today after hearing my friend talk about his passionate new playmate, I decided it's time to be the bad guy and do the right thing. I came home, and I opened my MSN. I deleted him, I blocked him, i took him of Facebook, and deleted his number. I deleted his pictures off my computer, and I deleted his teasing messages and I took a breath to let out all the bad that had been festering inside without me ever really knowing.
I still allowed myself to be a bit sad, but not because I lost him. But because he had now lost me. I can say now this... with absolute certainty and a lack of ego. He does not deserve me.
I close today by saying goodbye. Goodbye to someone who almost was but in the end wasn't, the one who I was so close to being close with. I can't say I won't miss you, and I cant pretend I won't either. But as Rihanna once sang, "now it's time to go, curtains finally falling". I'm walking away, and I am getting on with my life. I hope you find out how to do the same.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday, 20 November 2010
Confession is Good for the Soul
I don't know how the subject came up, but I was with a couple of work mates the other day and they ended up talking about all the slightly dodgy things they used to get up to at school and uni. You know the sort of thing that usually happens as a result of alcohol, hormones and sometimes just bloody audacity. Anyway one of the girls looks at me and she says she cant imagine me doing anything wrong, and that I seemed too "good". I know what she really meant was boring.
The truth is though that I tended to be just as bad as everyone else, but I was very good about keeping quiet about it. However in the spirit of confession here is a very short list of some of the more questionable things I did, and not that long ago, so I should know better.
1) Bunking off School
OK not a massive amount of naughtiness here, but then I was a little bit crafty. I used to tell my mother that I was going to be staying after school to study at the after hours programme the school was running, and I used to sign out of school citing a dentist appointment. Poor school never realised I had a dentists appointment on a weekly basis. Either that or they think I really neede a lot of work done.
2) Stole money from my Dad
Bit more vicious now. Me and my dad have a difficult relationship, but it was at it's worse when I was 16. I think he was beginning to see I was different, and I was beginning to see how much he hated the idea. My acts of rebellion were petty and they usually involved stealing from his wallet. In my defence he never noticed when I once nicked £80 out of there, which goes to show how much he had in there.
3) Never reporting an assault.
It happens when you are young and your gaydar is a little bit off, I was drunk and hit on a drunk straight boy. Drunk straight boy then broke a bottle and went for me :S. I wasn't hurt too badly, a couple of scratches mainly and the bouncers were on him like shit on Velcro in seconds. One very big and menacing looking Doorman said he had called the police and told me to just wait in the office bit. I didn't, I snuck out and went home. I did it because there was a small part of me that thought I deserved it. OK maybe not wrong in the traditional sense, but not right either.
4) Loosing my virginity on a one-night stand
That old chestnut sex. I was dating someone in uni and I psyched myself up a bit, knowing that any day now I would have sex for the first time. Problem is as it later turned out, he wasn't ready to be a "first time". So I did the typical, I drowned my sorrows in vodka and went home with the first man who showed interest. Turned out he was an insurance underwriter, and I left my watch there. It was stupid, and careless mostly because it ruined my relationship, and for a long time had me labled as "easy". It was also wrong because of just how pathetic I was, making sex so important in the first place. It still is now.....
5) Getting a former mates boyfriend into bed
Kind of self explanatory. I don't have the luxury of saying I was drunk this time. I knew what I was doing I did it anyway. Do I regret my decision, hell yes, would I do it again, hell no. Sometimes jut because you can have something, doesn't mean you should go out and take it, doesn't prove you are better, only shows you are a bigger jerk. I got a black eye for that and a serious dressing down, I think I deserved worse.
This is by no means all the stuff I could confess, I'm pretty sure that's only a fraction. But then I always get up every day and put on one sock at a time, I always try and do better next time, and never stopped trying to be as good a person as I could be. I don't always succeed, but that won't ever stop me trying.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
The truth is though that I tended to be just as bad as everyone else, but I was very good about keeping quiet about it. However in the spirit of confession here is a very short list of some of the more questionable things I did, and not that long ago, so I should know better.
1) Bunking off School
OK not a massive amount of naughtiness here, but then I was a little bit crafty. I used to tell my mother that I was going to be staying after school to study at the after hours programme the school was running, and I used to sign out of school citing a dentist appointment. Poor school never realised I had a dentists appointment on a weekly basis. Either that or they think I really neede a lot of work done.
2) Stole money from my Dad
Bit more vicious now. Me and my dad have a difficult relationship, but it was at it's worse when I was 16. I think he was beginning to see I was different, and I was beginning to see how much he hated the idea. My acts of rebellion were petty and they usually involved stealing from his wallet. In my defence he never noticed when I once nicked £80 out of there, which goes to show how much he had in there.
3) Never reporting an assault.
It happens when you are young and your gaydar is a little bit off, I was drunk and hit on a drunk straight boy. Drunk straight boy then broke a bottle and went for me :S. I wasn't hurt too badly, a couple of scratches mainly and the bouncers were on him like shit on Velcro in seconds. One very big and menacing looking Doorman said he had called the police and told me to just wait in the office bit. I didn't, I snuck out and went home. I did it because there was a small part of me that thought I deserved it. OK maybe not wrong in the traditional sense, but not right either.
4) Loosing my virginity on a one-night stand
That old chestnut sex. I was dating someone in uni and I psyched myself up a bit, knowing that any day now I would have sex for the first time. Problem is as it later turned out, he wasn't ready to be a "first time". So I did the typical, I drowned my sorrows in vodka and went home with the first man who showed interest. Turned out he was an insurance underwriter, and I left my watch there. It was stupid, and careless mostly because it ruined my relationship, and for a long time had me labled as "easy". It was also wrong because of just how pathetic I was, making sex so important in the first place. It still is now.....
5) Getting a former mates boyfriend into bed
Kind of self explanatory. I don't have the luxury of saying I was drunk this time. I knew what I was doing I did it anyway. Do I regret my decision, hell yes, would I do it again, hell no. Sometimes jut because you can have something, doesn't mean you should go out and take it, doesn't prove you are better, only shows you are a bigger jerk. I got a black eye for that and a serious dressing down, I think I deserved worse.
This is by no means all the stuff I could confess, I'm pretty sure that's only a fraction. But then I always get up every day and put on one sock at a time, I always try and do better next time, and never stopped trying to be as good a person as I could be. I don't always succeed, but that won't ever stop me trying.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Monday, 1 November 2010
Doorknob to the Future
I'll be the first to admit, that while my house has been built, I hav'nt really allowed myself to get excited about it. Call it stoicism of you like, but when it comes to the big things I try not to allow myself to get to attached to them, probably because somewhere in the back of my head I think that someones going to take it away.
I have always dreamed of having a home of my own, of being independent and standing in my own two feet. It's that dream that led me to university, and subsequently to leave home a few years later, all so that I could be alone and live the way I wanted. After all kind of hard to pull a guy and bring them home when the parents sleep just across the hall, especially since most guys I pull end up being screamers ....... !
Today I had a simple chat with the project manager, was nothing major he just wanted me to go through some pictures and decide on the doorknobs I wanted. Nothing major at all really, compared to most of the process rather simple to be frank. But in that moment when I thought about whether I want the front door to be in brass or in black, I received a premonition.
I saw myself coming home from work and opening my own door and locking it behind me. I saw myself going up stairs to my bedroom and changing clothes, and going back down to my kitchen to make a cup of tea. I was in my kitchen again making a pasta bake while listening to some music on my iPhone. I saw myself settling down with a glass of wine watching something stupid on television, chatting
with my housemates (which I don't have yet) about nothing in particular. I even see myself coming home reeking of vodka in a cab after a night out, stumbling to e door, fumbling with keys, and trying to slip in without waking anyone up.
In that moment I allowed myself to feel the excitement I normally denied myself, I could see it so clearly in my mind. And now........ I can't wait.
I have always dreamed of having a home of my own, of being independent and standing in my own two feet. It's that dream that led me to university, and subsequently to leave home a few years later, all so that I could be alone and live the way I wanted. After all kind of hard to pull a guy and bring them home when the parents sleep just across the hall, especially since most guys I pull end up being screamers ....... !
Today I had a simple chat with the project manager, was nothing major he just wanted me to go through some pictures and decide on the doorknobs I wanted. Nothing major at all really, compared to most of the process rather simple to be frank. But in that moment when I thought about whether I want the front door to be in brass or in black, I received a premonition.
I saw myself coming home from work and opening my own door and locking it behind me. I saw myself going up stairs to my bedroom and changing clothes, and going back down to my kitchen to make a cup of tea. I was in my kitchen again making a pasta bake while listening to some music on my iPhone. I saw myself settling down with a glass of wine watching something stupid on television, chatting
with my housemates (which I don't have yet) about nothing in particular. I even see myself coming home reeking of vodka in a cab after a night out, stumbling to e door, fumbling with keys, and trying to slip in without waking anyone up.
In that moment I allowed myself to feel the excitement I normally denied myself, I could see it so clearly in my mind. And now........ I can't wait.
Saturday, 30 October 2010
Why WoW is better than Real Life
OK loads of people make fun of me for playing WoW. What can I say it's a special kind of therapy, so in e spirit of fun, and maybe boredom here is my top 5 list of reasons why the World of Warcraft can be SOOOO much better than real life.
1. You get to Travel.
Life is short, money is tight, and the real world is huge. If I was to list all the many many places I wanted to travel to then this blog would be 20 pages long. When you hit the game world you realise the world is still big, but thanks to a little can do spirit you can travel the length and breadth of the game world in a few days and take in the sights. You may never get enough money to see the pyramids or the Eiffel Tower, but for your subscription fee you get to see towers, temples, cities and epic sights.
2. Money is never tight.
Except for the occasional repair bill and your subscription fee you are never going to be out of money, I work in a sometimes frustrating and often pressured job and I wish I could get a bit more for bang for my buck. When you are in the game world all the gold and silver you need is only a quest or a kill away.
3. Murder is allowed.
Odd one this, but how many times have you left the office are the parents place and seriously wanted to kill someone. Well here you are it's legal now :) and often encouraged. This is because the bad guys are actually evil, which makes life much easier, compared to real life where capital punishment alone is a subject of controversy.
4. Death is merely a set back.
Ok I know that this sort of thing is what can desensitise young people and leads to nasty columbine like incidents, but imagine how great life would be if you never really needed to worry about death. God knows I would probably be a bit more fearless in my life, and stand up to the real monsters in real life.
5. You get what you work for.
Everything you do in the game gives you a reward. Whether it's a shiny new sword, a pretty helmet or just a plain old handful of gold for your hoard you get something. We all work hard in life and very rarely is our hard work recognised and here it shows in everything you are.
Well this is my top 5. But. I do want to say that I love my real life, I love going out clubbing and hanging out with my friends. But at times like this when I am watching the pennies, and a bit sore from the break up, then a bit of me time in another world is the perfect kind of escapism.
As I sign off now my level 55 Mage needs a bit of help powerlevelling through the snowy wilds of Winterspring, and if you get that reference, feel free to drop a comment :).
Seez y'all later.
1. You get to Travel.
Life is short, money is tight, and the real world is huge. If I was to list all the many many places I wanted to travel to then this blog would be 20 pages long. When you hit the game world you realise the world is still big, but thanks to a little can do spirit you can travel the length and breadth of the game world in a few days and take in the sights. You may never get enough money to see the pyramids or the Eiffel Tower, but for your subscription fee you get to see towers, temples, cities and epic sights.
2. Money is never tight.
Except for the occasional repair bill and your subscription fee you are never going to be out of money, I work in a sometimes frustrating and often pressured job and I wish I could get a bit more for bang for my buck. When you are in the game world all the gold and silver you need is only a quest or a kill away.
3. Murder is allowed.
Odd one this, but how many times have you left the office are the parents place and seriously wanted to kill someone. Well here you are it's legal now :) and often encouraged. This is because the bad guys are actually evil, which makes life much easier, compared to real life where capital punishment alone is a subject of controversy.
4. Death is merely a set back.
Ok I know that this sort of thing is what can desensitise young people and leads to nasty columbine like incidents, but imagine how great life would be if you never really needed to worry about death. God knows I would probably be a bit more fearless in my life, and stand up to the real monsters in real life.
5. You get what you work for.
Everything you do in the game gives you a reward. Whether it's a shiny new sword, a pretty helmet or just a plain old handful of gold for your hoard you get something. We all work hard in life and very rarely is our hard work recognised and here it shows in everything you are.
Well this is my top 5. But. I do want to say that I love my real life, I love going out clubbing and hanging out with my friends. But at times like this when I am watching the pennies, and a bit sore from the break up, then a bit of me time in another world is the perfect kind of escapism.
As I sign off now my level 55 Mage needs a bit of help powerlevelling through the snowy wilds of Winterspring, and if you get that reference, feel free to drop a comment :).
Seez y'all later.
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Sick as a Dog !!
OK it takes a lot to really fuck me off, as anyone who knows me would corroborate, albeit more likely the word "soft" would be used.
Knowing this however the universe decides to throw curve-balls my way to try and really piss me off. Today the universe pushed me a little bit too far.
Today I have been sick as a dog, a particularly diseased looking stray as it happens. They call it a winter bug, which makes it sound cute........ it isn't. So I called in sick, a rare occurrence, and stayed in bed, occasionally coughing up a lung, and taking pain killers like tic tacs.
I call in sick, which took some doing and straining of the vocal chords since I lost my voice. Eventually they got the message however and I sent in what feels like a 10 page email detailing all my outstanding work from memory, and my boss emails me and tells me to go back to bed and rest.
Sadly rest eludes me. First off the house alarm went off when I was trying to sleep, as my father decided to do some rewiring. I would of yelled but loss of aforementioned voice meant the most I could manage was to look daggers at him.
Next the baby (my sisters daughter who was being looked after by my mum) starts screaming. Mum starts yelling asking me to look after her, which I cant do since I don't want to get the little one sick.
And as if that wasn't enough my Dad decides I need a bit of cheering up so he sends the dog into my room to jump into bed and trying to eat my ears.....
Then finally they all pop out for a couple of minutes for fresh air, meaning that when the delivery for some new sofas arrive there is no one to collect and unload them, except for old sicky here.
Listen kids, if you ever think it would be nice to call in sick and spend a day at home..... DO NT, because right now a genuine sicky is now feeling like absolute Poo and thinks I will be laid up a while :(
Knowing this however the universe decides to throw curve-balls my way to try and really piss me off. Today the universe pushed me a little bit too far.
Today I have been sick as a dog, a particularly diseased looking stray as it happens. They call it a winter bug, which makes it sound cute........ it isn't. So I called in sick, a rare occurrence, and stayed in bed, occasionally coughing up a lung, and taking pain killers like tic tacs.
I call in sick, which took some doing and straining of the vocal chords since I lost my voice. Eventually they got the message however and I sent in what feels like a 10 page email detailing all my outstanding work from memory, and my boss emails me and tells me to go back to bed and rest.
Sadly rest eludes me. First off the house alarm went off when I was trying to sleep, as my father decided to do some rewiring. I would of yelled but loss of aforementioned voice meant the most I could manage was to look daggers at him.
Next the baby (my sisters daughter who was being looked after by my mum) starts screaming. Mum starts yelling asking me to look after her, which I cant do since I don't want to get the little one sick.
And as if that wasn't enough my Dad decides I need a bit of cheering up so he sends the dog into my room to jump into bed and trying to eat my ears.....
Then finally they all pop out for a couple of minutes for fresh air, meaning that when the delivery for some new sofas arrive there is no one to collect and unload them, except for old sicky here.
Listen kids, if you ever think it would be nice to call in sick and spend a day at home..... DO NT, because right now a genuine sicky is now feeling like absolute Poo and thinks I will be laid up a while :(
Sunday, 10 October 2010
Counting Down the Days
It seems as though that right now my life is being made up of several small but significant countdowns. Seconds and minutes passing away from the future to the past leading on to a conclusion, its scary, but exciting too:
Meeting with student liaison to go through my coursework – 3 days (and surprisingly not left to last minute)
Meeting old friend for dinner and Cinema – 5 days (in desperate need of alcohol after)
Going shopping for more Furniture – 12 days (I’m thinking an extra large TV)
Me Moving into my new house – 50 days (scared shitless)
World of Warcraft Cataclysm comes out – 58 days (GEEKGASM!!! Rolling a Worgen FTW!!)
Christmas – 76 days (and slitting my wrists already)
Holiday with Ryan and the Gays - 85 days (Gran Canaria for some sun, sea and sexy lifeguards)
Its maddening to think of all the things that are coming, but only just a little bit out of reach. Still all of these things will help bring a little bit of shine to an otherwise dull life right now, especially now that the house is finally near completion. I feel a bit more free to breathe and start having a little bit of fun, instead of watching the pennies, and the pounds.
I know everyone will probably leave all their resolutions until new years, but I already know that I need to have a little more fun before then, and then make a resolution to have even more.
Keeping it brief today, just to start putting my toe back into my single bloggers lifestyle, but I promise a more concise and funny update in the days to come.
Leaving you all with an inspirational thought, you are all perfect at being yourselves. Catch you on the flip side readers.
(N.B. written while listening to Natalie Imbruglia's Counting Down the Days album)
Meeting with student liaison to go through my coursework – 3 days (and surprisingly not left to last minute)
Meeting old friend for dinner and Cinema – 5 days (in desperate need of alcohol after)
Going shopping for more Furniture – 12 days (I’m thinking an extra large TV)
Me Moving into my new house – 50 days (scared shitless)
World of Warcraft Cataclysm comes out – 58 days (GEEKGASM!!! Rolling a Worgen FTW!!)
Christmas – 76 days (and slitting my wrists already)
Holiday with Ryan and the Gays - 85 days (Gran Canaria for some sun, sea and sexy lifeguards)
Its maddening to think of all the things that are coming, but only just a little bit out of reach. Still all of these things will help bring a little bit of shine to an otherwise dull life right now, especially now that the house is finally near completion. I feel a bit more free to breathe and start having a little bit of fun, instead of watching the pennies, and the pounds.
I know everyone will probably leave all their resolutions until new years, but I already know that I need to have a little more fun before then, and then make a resolution to have even more.
Keeping it brief today, just to start putting my toe back into my single bloggers lifestyle, but I promise a more concise and funny update in the days to come.
Leaving you all with an inspirational thought, you are all perfect at being yourselves. Catch you on the flip side readers.
(N.B. written while listening to Natalie Imbruglia's Counting Down the Days album)
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Why?
Why do I see your face standing out in a crowd?
Why do I keep looking at you, and hope you are looking back?
Why does the die of just going over and saying hi, feel more scary than skin cancer?
Why is it that when I do talk to you, I ramble on like some mental patient?
Why am I such a dork?
Why do you smile at me and look into my eyes?
Why does your smile and eye contact make me shiver that has nothing to do with the cold?
Why do I remember every single thing you say, and yet still be amazed you are talking to me at all?
Why did you just buy me a drink, and why did you be sure to ask for a double ?
Why did I not see that coming?
Why do I want to kiss you so much, when we have barely had a conversation?
Why do you keep looking at me as if you want me to kiss you back?
Why do I always have to be the brave one who goes in first?
Why is it that when we kiss my lips tingle and why are your arms so warm when they are around my waist?
Why did I not think of having a breath mint after chowing down on garlic bread before coming out tonight?
Why do you give me a second look as I look around and see the other more attractive guys who tried it on with you, and to whom you said no?
Why are they now looking at me with disgust, and why do I care so much what they think?
Why did I give you my phone number?
Why did you text me so soon after I left with my friends?
Why does seeing a text from you make my heart skip a beat?
Why am I now holding on to my phone for grim death waiting for it to jingle reassuringly to tell me you just text me back?
Why do I get so annoyed when a friend texts me in the middle of this and breaks my train of thought?
Why did I invite you to see that movie that I have already seen..... Twice ?
Why do I seem to fit so well in your arms?
Why do you seem to slide into mine so perfectly?
Why did we bother with the movie, we missed most of it while we were snogging in the back row?
Why did I suggest you coming back to my place?
Why did you say yes?
Why did you want to be my boyfriend, when I sometimes felt unlovable?
Why do I start to put up pictures of us in my room?
Why did we make such a big thing about linking our profiles on Facebook even though we both find it mega dorky?
Why did you tell me you loved me for the first time so quietly that I had to ask you to repeat yourself twice before I understood?
Why did I then say I loved you too, and mean it with my whole heart?
Why did it all go wrong?
Why did we start having fights over nothing?
Why did we stop making the effort to spend our free time together?
Why did you need some time to yourself, and why did I have to be the understanding boyfriend?
Why did I torture myself to find you the perfect valentines present, when I knew deep down You were probably too hassled from work to get me anything?
Why did start caring more about your drama of a life, and why did you stop asking that all important question "how are you"?
Why did it feel like every time we were together, I was walking in egg shells?
Why did you let yourself get so pissed off about every little thing, and so stressed that you seemed to be perpetually miserable?
Why did I still make the effort to include you in my life, when you make no effort at all?
Why did I tell you I was fine with that even when it was actually a little insulted?
Why and when did I apparently loose my own identity to this dual one I made for us both?
Why did it take so long for us to work up the courage to admit it was over, when we both already knew it?
Why do we still care about each other so much?
Why am I sure that we will be amazing friends?
Why do I torture myself, and then try to be happy for you?
Why were you so close but yet so far to being perfect?
Why couldn't I settle and just be happy?
Why even when I am sure it is all for the best, do the edges of my heart feel ragged and hurt?
Why did I go on that ice-cream binge right after we broke up, and how am I going to loose the half stone I just put on?
And one more question that I always ask myself at the end:
Why even after all that has been done and said, do I find myself still being just a little bit in love with you?
These are the questions that have often come up in relationships, and sometimes also their aftermath. As someone who has just gone through a break up, I have also asked a few of these myself, but also as a good friend I have heard people around me ask themselves the same questions? There is nothing that really refers to any one person in particular, but I think these are the kind of questions we all ask ourselves at one time or another.
The truth is that the answer to all of these could very well be the same thing. But what that is I will leave you to decide.
Why do I keep looking at you, and hope you are looking back?
Why does the die of just going over and saying hi, feel more scary than skin cancer?
Why is it that when I do talk to you, I ramble on like some mental patient?
Why am I such a dork?
Why do you smile at me and look into my eyes?
Why does your smile and eye contact make me shiver that has nothing to do with the cold?
Why do I remember every single thing you say, and yet still be amazed you are talking to me at all?
Why did you just buy me a drink, and why did you be sure to ask for a double ?
Why did I not see that coming?
Why do I want to kiss you so much, when we have barely had a conversation?
Why do you keep looking at me as if you want me to kiss you back?
Why do I always have to be the brave one who goes in first?
Why is it that when we kiss my lips tingle and why are your arms so warm when they are around my waist?
Why did I not think of having a breath mint after chowing down on garlic bread before coming out tonight?
Why do you give me a second look as I look around and see the other more attractive guys who tried it on with you, and to whom you said no?
Why are they now looking at me with disgust, and why do I care so much what they think?
Why did I give you my phone number?
Why did you text me so soon after I left with my friends?
Why does seeing a text from you make my heart skip a beat?
Why am I now holding on to my phone for grim death waiting for it to jingle reassuringly to tell me you just text me back?
Why do I get so annoyed when a friend texts me in the middle of this and breaks my train of thought?
Why did I invite you to see that movie that I have already seen..... Twice ?
Why do I seem to fit so well in your arms?
Why do you seem to slide into mine so perfectly?
Why did we bother with the movie, we missed most of it while we were snogging in the back row?
Why did I suggest you coming back to my place?
Why did you say yes?
Why did you want to be my boyfriend, when I sometimes felt unlovable?
Why do I start to put up pictures of us in my room?
Why did we make such a big thing about linking our profiles on Facebook even though we both find it mega dorky?
Why did you tell me you loved me for the first time so quietly that I had to ask you to repeat yourself twice before I understood?
Why did I then say I loved you too, and mean it with my whole heart?
Why did it all go wrong?
Why did we start having fights over nothing?
Why did we stop making the effort to spend our free time together?
Why did you need some time to yourself, and why did I have to be the understanding boyfriend?
Why did I torture myself to find you the perfect valentines present, when I knew deep down You were probably too hassled from work to get me anything?
Why did start caring more about your drama of a life, and why did you stop asking that all important question "how are you"?
Why did it feel like every time we were together, I was walking in egg shells?
Why did you let yourself get so pissed off about every little thing, and so stressed that you seemed to be perpetually miserable?
Why did I still make the effort to include you in my life, when you make no effort at all?
Why did I tell you I was fine with that even when it was actually a little insulted?
Why and when did I apparently loose my own identity to this dual one I made for us both?
Why did it take so long for us to work up the courage to admit it was over, when we both already knew it?
Why do we still care about each other so much?
Why am I sure that we will be amazing friends?
Why do I torture myself, and then try to be happy for you?
Why were you so close but yet so far to being perfect?
Why couldn't I settle and just be happy?
Why even when I am sure it is all for the best, do the edges of my heart feel ragged and hurt?
Why did I go on that ice-cream binge right after we broke up, and how am I going to loose the half stone I just put on?
And one more question that I always ask myself at the end:
Why even after all that has been done and said, do I find myself still being just a little bit in love with you?
These are the questions that have often come up in relationships, and sometimes also their aftermath. As someone who has just gone through a break up, I have also asked a few of these myself, but also as a good friend I have heard people around me ask themselves the same questions? There is nothing that really refers to any one person in particular, but I think these are the kind of questions we all ask ourselves at one time or another.
The truth is that the answer to all of these could very well be the same thing. But what that is I will leave you to decide.
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Single..... Again
Well if the title doesnt already say it all allow me to go into a little bit more detail. Me and the boyfriend decided that we needed to call it quits.
It was a hard decision for both of us, but we were in agreement it was probably the best choice that we could of made. We were beginning to be fed up and easily annoyed with each other. Sadly it made us think that perhaps everything we had, had run its natural course, and we had two choices, we could leave now with the good memories, or we could wait and make it harder on us both if we fell apart later.
We have decided that we will be maintaining our friendship, or rather that we would try to, and we both have all the best intentions and good will in the world to make it happen.
First things first, I am fine, well sort of. Its weird, even knowing it was the bet thing I could do I still seem to have good days, and bad days. Sometimes i want to go and paint the town red, and others I want to curl up in bed with a book and be in bed by 9.15, I know, pathetic with a capital P.
Still I refuse to be sad, I just want to keep moving forward. I love Lee, and I always will, and I will miss him horribly. But I am thankful for the time that we ha together, and the friendship that we still have.
It was a hard decision for both of us, but we were in agreement it was probably the best choice that we could of made. We were beginning to be fed up and easily annoyed with each other. Sadly it made us think that perhaps everything we had, had run its natural course, and we had two choices, we could leave now with the good memories, or we could wait and make it harder on us both if we fell apart later.
We have decided that we will be maintaining our friendship, or rather that we would try to, and we both have all the best intentions and good will in the world to make it happen.
First things first, I am fine, well sort of. Its weird, even knowing it was the bet thing I could do I still seem to have good days, and bad days. Sometimes i want to go and paint the town red, and others I want to curl up in bed with a book and be in bed by 9.15, I know, pathetic with a capital P.
Still I refuse to be sad, I just want to keep moving forward. I love Lee, and I always will, and I will miss him horribly. But I am thankful for the time that we ha together, and the friendship that we still have.
Sunday, 5 September 2010
1 Billion Friends
In the age where the social networking site is the height of conversation, is it actually causing us to loose sight of the importance of physical interaction? More than that, is it possible to be connected with dozens of other people through them and still be alone?
Ok cards on the table, I am not a naturally confident guy, I am the sort of guy who won't say boo to a goose for fear the goose will kill me and eat my family. That said the idea of talking to people through online mediums has helped me to be a lot more comfortable talking in real life.
My love affair with social networking began at the tender age of 18, with the infamous Gaydar, a "dating" site which offered the promise of meeting more gay guys, since at that tender age I didn't know any. From there it grew into MSN where I made a new place for myself to talk to these people I was chatting too on Gaydar, and started the slow process of building up relationships with a lot of different people.
OK I can hear the comments already, that Gaydar and MSN are not inherently social networks. However, it's how the story starts with a lot of people, and it grew further into other areas.
I moved on to Myspace, since it offered the chance to do some early blogging, I also took the advice of a dude from Gaydar and got myself installed on Faceparty too. By this point it was only a year later and I had my fingers in a lot of different pies. Not even a year after that I found myself on Facebook, the granddaddy of them all, and started to measure my self worth by the number of friends I had. I had also moved on to the unusually named LadsLads where I had given up completely on the "dating" sites and realised that sometimes all you need is straight up athletic and intense sex. I even publicly reported my own entry into the ranks of the Twiterrati just a few months ago with yet another online profile.
Now before anyone gets the wrong impression of me, I actually do have a life. I have a job and friends, and hobbies, and people who care about me. I love the idea that these sites can introduce you to new people and friends, and sometimes even boyfriends for the single gay man on the go. But when we get down to it, are our facebook friends really our friends, or are the followers in Twitter ever really listening? Is the dude on Gaydar going to remember you for you, or for the naughty picture that you posted? When you realise your latest status update is as dull as ditch water, is that when you realise, that probably no one cares?
My real question is, is it possible that the idea of being so deeply connected with all these strangers, can social networking ever take the place of something real?
In my opinion it can't, it never could. So why don't we all try something a little different? Find a facebook friend or a Twitter follower that you don't know all that well, chat to them, get to know them, maybe even meet IRL for lunch someday. Talk about the things that really do matter to you, I promise no character limits, and no seedy pics needed first.
Believe it or not I still like my love affair with social networking, but I just know there is more to life than chat windows and what Stephen Fry is doing this week.
Ok cards on the table, I am not a naturally confident guy, I am the sort of guy who won't say boo to a goose for fear the goose will kill me and eat my family. That said the idea of talking to people through online mediums has helped me to be a lot more comfortable talking in real life.
My love affair with social networking began at the tender age of 18, with the infamous Gaydar, a "dating" site which offered the promise of meeting more gay guys, since at that tender age I didn't know any. From there it grew into MSN where I made a new place for myself to talk to these people I was chatting too on Gaydar, and started the slow process of building up relationships with a lot of different people.
OK I can hear the comments already, that Gaydar and MSN are not inherently social networks. However, it's how the story starts with a lot of people, and it grew further into other areas.
I moved on to Myspace, since it offered the chance to do some early blogging, I also took the advice of a dude from Gaydar and got myself installed on Faceparty too. By this point it was only a year later and I had my fingers in a lot of different pies. Not even a year after that I found myself on Facebook, the granddaddy of them all, and started to measure my self worth by the number of friends I had. I had also moved on to the unusually named LadsLads where I had given up completely on the "dating" sites and realised that sometimes all you need is straight up athletic and intense sex. I even publicly reported my own entry into the ranks of the Twiterrati just a few months ago with yet another online profile.
Now before anyone gets the wrong impression of me, I actually do have a life. I have a job and friends, and hobbies, and people who care about me. I love the idea that these sites can introduce you to new people and friends, and sometimes even boyfriends for the single gay man on the go. But when we get down to it, are our facebook friends really our friends, or are the followers in Twitter ever really listening? Is the dude on Gaydar going to remember you for you, or for the naughty picture that you posted? When you realise your latest status update is as dull as ditch water, is that when you realise, that probably no one cares?
My real question is, is it possible that the idea of being so deeply connected with all these strangers, can social networking ever take the place of something real?
In my opinion it can't, it never could. So why don't we all try something a little different? Find a facebook friend or a Twitter follower that you don't know all that well, chat to them, get to know them, maybe even meet IRL for lunch someday. Talk about the things that really do matter to you, I promise no character limits, and no seedy pics needed first.
Believe it or not I still like my love affair with social networking, but I just know there is more to life than chat windows and what Stephen Fry is doing this week.
Sunday, 22 August 2010
Do you have the X Factor?
OK the reality television phenomenon that is X Factor has returned to our screens for another year, and I found myself tuning in to the 2010 series opener as once again the nation conducts its search for the next great pop star.
First impressions are somewhat... mixed, and though the judges have yet to really get their handbags and claws out to any of the auditionees, but likewise I didn’t see anyone with what I would call “transcendental” talent show up yet either, which made it a relatively no thrills starter, to ease us in to the new series.
I think I will keep an eye out on the unusually named Gamu, as the self described “girl with a red flower in her hair” impressed the judges with her own take on “Walking on Sunshine” as they trawled through Glasgow. Indeed early reports suggest that bookies are calling her an early favourite to win the whole competition. I personally say don’t count your chickens, and even though I did like her, I think I will need to see just a little bit more from her before she gets my vote.
Of course X Factor just wouldn’t be X Factor, without a “What The F**K” moment, and that came out in the form of 30 year old Shirleena when the judges moved the search on to London. Her eccentric take on “Mercy” by Duffy, had me on the floor out of a double whammy of laughter and cringing. I apparently looked like she was driving me into a seizure, and I have a strange suspicion that this woman could probably do just that, making me hope that if she continues in the competition, then producers will put a warning on the title card. Of course the real WTF moment came when the judges let her through 2 to 1. I know those guys are the experts, but surely they must have been drinking at that point.
Other memorable candidates were G & S a double act, whose take on “Don’t Stop Believing” quite possibly ruined the pilot episode of Glee, for me, for all time. I mean come on guys, it isn’t a double act unless you can both sing. I also shouted at the TV when “JAHM” hit the screen and butchered Bad Romance, after apparently meeting online and auditioning “over the phone”...... yeah I could believe that.
There has also been another point of controversy with thousands of viewers venting their spleens on twitter regarding the use of auto-tune technology by the show. The use of a post production technology to improve the voices of the contestants was met with outrage and seen by many as an attempt to falsely convey the quality of the talent that people have. I can only think, if that is what they sound like after they have been vocally photo-shopped, I would hate to have heard it raw *cringe*.
Oh well all controversy aside, the big lactating behemoth that is ITV’s cash cow has performed well in the ratings and 11.1 million viewers tuned in nationwide, and early estimations are showing that this will be a big year for the show, now in its seventh series. I will personally be watching (because the other half makes me) and seeing if I can spot the next Leona/Alexandra and be ready to vent my spleen on twitter if another Jedward shows up..... beware.
First impressions are somewhat... mixed, and though the judges have yet to really get their handbags and claws out to any of the auditionees, but likewise I didn’t see anyone with what I would call “transcendental” talent show up yet either, which made it a relatively no thrills starter, to ease us in to the new series.
I think I will keep an eye out on the unusually named Gamu, as the self described “girl with a red flower in her hair” impressed the judges with her own take on “Walking on Sunshine” as they trawled through Glasgow. Indeed early reports suggest that bookies are calling her an early favourite to win the whole competition. I personally say don’t count your chickens, and even though I did like her, I think I will need to see just a little bit more from her before she gets my vote.
Of course X Factor just wouldn’t be X Factor, without a “What The F**K” moment, and that came out in the form of 30 year old Shirleena when the judges moved the search on to London. Her eccentric take on “Mercy” by Duffy, had me on the floor out of a double whammy of laughter and cringing. I apparently looked like she was driving me into a seizure, and I have a strange suspicion that this woman could probably do just that, making me hope that if she continues in the competition, then producers will put a warning on the title card. Of course the real WTF moment came when the judges let her through 2 to 1. I know those guys are the experts, but surely they must have been drinking at that point.
Other memorable candidates were G & S a double act, whose take on “Don’t Stop Believing” quite possibly ruined the pilot episode of Glee, for me, for all time. I mean come on guys, it isn’t a double act unless you can both sing. I also shouted at the TV when “JAHM” hit the screen and butchered Bad Romance, after apparently meeting online and auditioning “over the phone”...... yeah I could believe that.
There has also been another point of controversy with thousands of viewers venting their spleens on twitter regarding the use of auto-tune technology by the show. The use of a post production technology to improve the voices of the contestants was met with outrage and seen by many as an attempt to falsely convey the quality of the talent that people have. I can only think, if that is what they sound like after they have been vocally photo-shopped, I would hate to have heard it raw *cringe*.
Oh well all controversy aside, the big lactating behemoth that is ITV’s cash cow has performed well in the ratings and 11.1 million viewers tuned in nationwide, and early estimations are showing that this will be a big year for the show, now in its seventh series. I will personally be watching (because the other half makes me) and seeing if I can spot the next Leona/Alexandra and be ready to vent my spleen on twitter if another Jedward shows up..... beware.
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