Awkward Situation: “Flashing” in Public

Awkward Situation: “Flashing” in Public

Is it just me that likes to take photos of strangers in public without them knowing? Okay that sounds really strange but the answer is No I’m not the only one. Its merely a form of candid camera and quite frankly some people deserve to be named an shamed. I have taken photos of people that have weird fashion sense, people that annoy me; such as the man who was on my train wearing sunglasses during the night! No he wasn’t blind. I saw him put the glasses on. I dont do anything with these pictures other than send them to friends. Its fairly entertaining, try it. Having said that, there is a skill to it as I found out the hard way one fateful evening.

Recently there was a couple on the train. A very busy train, taking up a lot of space by sitting on their suitcase in the middle of the doorway. Worse though is that they would kiss every now and then and talk loudly. If you are a commuter then you’d understand my frustration. ‘Okay’ I thought, I’m going to send a picture of this display of ignorance to my friend. Now remember the skill I said you need to this, I surreptitiously switched my phone to silent in preparation to take a photo without the camera sound to alert the couple of my intentions. This was going well……

Click….. FLASH!! ….. SHIT!! Noooo Ive just taken a picture of two strangers with the most obvious flaw. Ive just directly flashed them – by which I mean with my camera, not exposing certain body parts because well, that’s illegal unfortunately; and slightly weird. Immediately my face explodes into the darkest shade of red imaginable. Some quick thinking is required now to save me from this awkward situation. So I give my phone (an inanimate object) the dirtiest look possible as if to say “What’s wrong with my phone, why did the flash just go off?” I take another photo, this time not so much aimed towards them, tapping it too as if now to say “The stupid thing must be malfunctioning because It’d be weird if I was taking photos”

… A few hours later I awoke in a cold hospital bed.

No not really. I think the whole improvised Am-Dram saved me. They must have believed I had a faulty iPhone. Horay! Crises resolved and luckily they alighted the train two stops later.

Love and Despair

The Tragic case of Danny Cooke

 

I never wanted to hurt anyone. I’ve been severely hurt by a loved one in the past and it still affects me to this day. Some times I struggle to get up in the morning or find motivation to do anything. I want to shut myself away forever and tell the world to leave me alone. It seems that I cant help someone getting hurt by my actions in the end. I don’t know what has changed either because I don’t think I do anything wrong – the last thing Id do to someone is cheat – and yet my recent ex-love interests now all hate me where as 5 years or so ago, I would have still been friends with them afterwards.

 

Fact: I high percentage of people meet their life partner in the workplace…

 

Over the years I have had a number of relationships with colleagues which has now seen me to get a bad reputation amongst the rest of them. Its really sad because it means they are quick enough to bitch about me and warn people off of me. I imagine their presumptions of me are one of an arrogant arsehole who uses women and then moves on to the next. On one hand It doesn’t bother me what people think but on the other hand It gets me down that they would rather think all of that rather than get to know me a bit more to actually find out that in fact I’m NOT using women at all, Ive treated them all really well and have liked them at the time. I’m trying to find the right women to sweep ME off my feet like all them years ago when I thought I’d found my soul mate but who went on to break my heart and destroy me. Anyway, Its been unfortunate that Its not worked out with these different people.

If you know me then you know that I am very anal about my looks and hair in particular. If you REALLY got to know me then you’d know that it is not because “I love myself” but more that I’m unbelievably insecure especially in thinking that I wouldn’t be good enough for someone. The one I had told me she loved me, shed never cheat on me and wanted to be with me for a long time; to start a family, to start a life. Now If someone tells me things like this, I cannot trust that they will feel the same way later on. That’s why I push people away and push the world away. I really cant go through that hurt again. Losing Holly felt like someone had died, so much in fact that I had PHYSCIAL pain in my chest! And like any death, I doubt I’ll ever actually get over it.

 

LOVE

In the words of the band, Mcfly; “Love is Easy.”

On face value it is arguably the simplest of quotes but ponder further my dear reader and you will start to question if love actually is easy. Well yes, It is. Its finding love and being without it which is hard, although the sad reality that plagues most relationships nowadays which can cause a high percentage of breakups is that whilst you may be completely nose-deep in love, your partner is not. They are your soul-mate but you are not theirs. It happens to us all. Our “First love” they say is “The one that got away” or the one who you will never fully get over and spend for all ever comparing future relations to. It could be that by the time you realise your love for that special someone that it is simply too late and then you wonder what you could have done wrong and what you should have done differently. You will undoubtedly wonder about this for years and it may even drive you crazy; why did she/he leave you after all your love and care was focused on them? It seems cruel that the person you would have done anything for is now dismissing your love or even your existence; however, I suppose you have to look on the other side of things.

A relationship is not about you. It is about “us.” therefore you cannot expect to carry on with fifty percent of “us” being unhappy in the relationship hoping things will fall back into place. Fall back into… well, love. This is what leads people to cheat – Its the easiest pleasure to gain for a temporary high whilst in fact you accomplish nothing from it. Nothing but hurt, not only for your unsuspecting partner but: studies have even shown that although cheating may be stimulating during the fling, the after effects just burden you with stress and guilt (Or if you’re heartless, it could be the stress of certain people finding out.) so just don’t do it. The best thing to do if you are unhappy it to take responsibility and tackle the problem. It may be that you DO need to end things but its hard because you used to have such strong feelings and you have been together for a long time but it has to be better sooner rather than later hasn’t it? What is the point in staying together if you don’t see a future in a years time?

* starts laughing at myself *

Despite sounding like an ancient Oracle sharing his wisdom, it is slightly humorous reading this back and thinking that I should have taken my own advice a couple of years ago. I was so far in love that I was prepared to give up everything just to make her happy. A trait which I never thought I would give in to. I’ve always believed that you should never put anybody in front of your work but then my job wont hold me on a cold night and tell me everything’s all right.

I admit that once upon a time I wasnt the perfect boyfriend. I got too comfortable in the relationship and took her for granted, expecting her to be there no matter what. We had survived almost two terms of her living away at university so there were no signs of it coming to an end any time soon but it was all too much of a perfect opportunity for the one she, lets say “took a liking to.”

It was whilst I was working abroad for Christmas one year away from my family and friends and more importantly, her. I was working hard and had hardly any opportunity to contact people back home. Christmas day was one of the loneliest I’ve ever had and so consequently I fell into something with a colleague but before my contract was up I had ended it before anything even happened and had a clear mind that when I returned home, I would focus on being there for her and be the best person I could be in every sense. Little did I know that she got “lonely” over Christmas too and had got close to a boy on her course who conveniently lived in the house next door too.

You could say that we were as bad as each other but the difference being that I didn’t sleep with anybody else and wouldn’t even see that person again. She would go on lying to me for a few more months and allow me to express my love in every way whilst having another newly formed boyfriend at university. I think what frustrates me the most is that the last year that we were together/ after my epiphany over Christmas, I did so many things to be the best boyfriend I could and it seems she did nothing to fight for me! Even little things such as finishing work late and rushing to catch a train to visit her for just one hour at University before trekking the one and a half hour journey back again… Or the time when (I had a Key to her family’s house) they were on holiday and I spent the evening scattering little gifts around her house and spelling “I LVE U” in her favourite sweets over her bed. For my birthday she bought me a £400 camera only to break leave me for him a month or few weeks later. I don’t get it.

We were a couple for almost three years which is a long time if you spend a lot of time together but heartbreakingly, the last time I saw her, We were STILL a couple. She didn’t even have the decency to break up face to face nor have I had any answers since which then takes me back to what I was saying at the start about continually wondering what went wrong and what I could have done. It’s affected me so much that every now and then I still shed a tear or two for us and seem to push new love-interests away when its starts to get all too familiar. Sure, I have regrets but ultimately I know that It takes a certain kind of person to do the things she did… The WRONG person. I’m pretty sure I found a soul-mate in her but unfortunately she hasn’t found one in me thus it could never work between us and I have to eventually let go of that fantasy no matter how hard it is or how much I miss you.

Underage

You spend most of your early Teen years getting drunk. Sometimes not just drunk but dangerously paraletic, just because you can get away with it. If you venture into the near-by park after 8pm you will often see a group of 10 year olds drinking a big value bottle of cider. “10 year olds” is a bit of an exaggeration but I do wonder why they do it. Why they can’t stay at home out of trouble with a nice book like the olden days or chase tires down the street with a stick. There is no reason for them to sit in a lonesome park drinking but I realise that even I liked to have the odd drink when I was about 15. The first nightclub I went to was at age 16 although that was at a family holiday park but still counts because it was a proper nightclub and had a bouncer on the door. I was with my cousin, Arren: more of a best mate/ bad influence than relation and his daughter who was probably about 8 at the time. It was 11 at night and the evening’s entertainment had finished for the day but I was still in a party mood. Arren had to take his daughter back to the room because she was tired and well, what would you do with an 8 year old at this time of night anyway?

I decided to try and get into the on-site nightclub. As I strutted up to the door trying to look older than I was, the guiltier I looked so I started to sweat and shake slightly with nerves. To any other by-stander it would probably would have looked like I was having a stroke of some kind. Never-the-less I managed an “alright mate” to the bouncer to which he replied by waving me inside. I was IN! I had a strange feeling of excitement and nerves simultaneously because here I was, a child, on my own in a nightclub full of adults getting drunk. I even recognised some familiar faces. They were the Holiday reps who had once seemed so innocent upon that stage and now wearing not very much whiles larking about flirtatiously with their mates. This was great but now the next step was to stop staring at everyone, taking it all in and rather try to blend in. I would go and get a drink from the bar with the risk of still being asked for ID. The nerves came flooding back. I thought it was going too well so that had to ask for ID surely…

“Pint of Fosters Please, Barman”

“Right-O, Anything else?”

(Anything else? Do I look like an alcoholic? – Is that why I wasnt asked for ID?)

So with a Sheepish “No thankyou” I took the Pint and RAN!

I think it’s awkward anyway to be in a Bar by yourself let alone illegally. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I needed to blend in. I needed to look like I had friends. I needed to… Shimmy over to that group of bigger alpha-male men. Off I went (not actually shimming. That’s something you should never do in this situation unless you like fights) and coolly lent on the side next to them. From what I could make out, they were builders working on the site and now it looked like I was one of them. That’s what I was thinking anyway but in hindsight realise that I did not look like I was one of the lads but a short little boy with dreams of being a builder from Bognor. After a few off looks they eventually moved away from me. Good job I took the hint and didn’t start following them. I left the club nearer closing time with a sense of accomplishment – Or maybe Drunkenness, you decide.

About 1 or 2 years later, 17 years old, I was on my way to “Britain’s Las Vegas” otherwise known as Blackpool for a wild weekend of Drink. I was with Arren (told you he was a bad influence) and his friend from work called Zed. This time I was still under-age but was armed with Fake ID – which I found out is not actually illegal to sell as long as it’s not exact to an official document and is sold as a “novelty” item to use on your mates. The one I got was a National Identity card (which I don’t think even exists in real life) costing £15 and included a hologrammed seal over it to make it look authentic.

We left Zed (who is Hungarian by the way) to book the B&B. Maybe that was the first mistake. When we arrived we were greeted by the Butchest yet Campest man I have possibly ever seen. He showed us to our room which consisted of one double bed and a tiny pull-out on next to it. We noticed that something was missing. The toilet door. Instead it had a curtain across the doorway which was handy letting others know when you are in there simply by plopping out a massive one. We kind of imaged the hotel being kitted out with cameras in every room and that when the manager saw us three blokes arrive and “unknowingly” booked THIS room, that it was his lucky day. We asked for another room but conveniently there was none available. Then we started to suspect Zed had planned this from the start. Once we sorted the sleeping arrangement out and chucked our cases in the cupboard; that’s right “Chucked,” not doing all that girly nonsense of unpacking, hanging up clothes and ironing them (ok maybe not ironing them but you get my point) we were now MEN on a mission. We went to the pub. That first night was an amazing night but I’m not proud of it either. I had so much to drink that I found some stairs in the nightclub we were in and fell asleep only to be rudely awoken shortly afterwards by a bouncer asking me to go outside. So I did, then fell asleep on the path. Arren and Zed decided to take me back to the room. I had them either side of me with my arms draped around their necks. Halfway home they let go of me by mistake and I fell onto the floor but luckily my face softened the blow *See Picture attached of me on my front on the path* the cheeky B*** took a picture instead of rushing to help me up! Eventually we made it back and they put me on the bed before rushing back out again to continue the night without me.

Like I said, I’m really not proud of getting so paraletic, especially after what followed. During the night all I remember was floating up from the bed intending to go to the toilet. The next morning Zed and Arren were awake and I heard Zed talking about how I got up during the night and started urinating on his bed. At that moment I died with embarrassment but also couldn’t stop laughing because it seemed so ludacris and the complete opposite to what I would ever do. It sounded like something from the 80s sitcom, Bottom. Apparently I peed over the end of the bed on Zeds feet, I think because it was pulled out right across the room on the way to the toilet, I must have stumbled into it and thought it was the toilet. I couldn’t help thinking that it was lucky he wasn’t the other way round and snoring and that if there were peep cameras in this hotel then that must have been worth hundreds! Its not as bad as you think, It was only right on the edge of the bed and I was only young. If you are ever asleep in the same room as me then you are perfectly safe, I’ve overcome that one night of madness and besides, it looks like I only do it to Hungarians anyway.

I felt amazingly sick on this morning which wasn’t helped by the embarrassment. We went to breakfast… At PizzaHut; however the smell of food made me even more sick and forced me to spend the majority of time with my head down their toilets. All was ok though because I felt a lot better afterwards and we got back down the pubs a few hours later!

… It was a crazy weekend. One of which I would love to recreate all except that last paragraph. Blackpool has some of the best nightclubs in the UK and I highly recommend it.

I guess the moral of this blog entry is: Everyone does drink underage so what’s the point of criticising others when they do it. Like the chavs in parks, just remember that you were young once too. If you are going to do it though then you need to be careful and not to excess. Even though that weekend in Blackpool was amazing, It was pointless getting that drunk where I lose all rational thinking, the inability to walk and the sickness as well as missing out on the rest of the night. I suppose growing up is all about learning things for yourself and maybe it was a good job that I got all this out of the way when I was younger so that now I am completely in control when I go out and wise to any dangers. I also recognise that I don’t have to have lots to drink to have a great night. Its whatever you make it. Drink or not.

Why are you shouting at the TV?

Watching it to playing it. Following intently to the odd dabble; everybody likes some kind of sport, from Fishing to knitting (is that a sport?… It bloody well should be! those grannies are athletes!) but at this very moment it is 9am on the Bakerloo line. A seemingly friendly group of rowdy football fans have gracefully staggered onto the tube with a can of larger in their hand obviously on their way to a game. I started to think “Why dont you chaps find another sport to follow rather than putting yourself through an hour and a half football match which you feel the need to drink so early before-hand in order to be rat-faced when you get there?” … Then I became lost in my own thoughts (well you wouldwouldnt you. you cant get lost in someone elses thoughts) as I started to imagine if this group of fans had been into something like gymnastics instead. Would they turn up drunk at the arena and start shouting at the judges for being “blind” or hurl abuse at the audience opposite them, giving their “encouragement” to the women gymnasts as they desperately watch for one of them to fall out of their leotard. Thus would they show their support by swapping their football shirts for a nifty little leotard themselves?

When you go to the Pub to watch the football with your mates, I understand that Proper Blokes have to shout at the telly to show how dominant they are and that they know everything and so much more than the other people in the room, that THEY ARE the biggest fan and all the other poor sods around can only dream of such wisdom!

But Why does your dad. Well MY Dad shout at the TV whilst sitting at home alone whilst I am in one of the other room? I don’t need to watch this game as my Dad is kindly shouting abuse at the screen indicating to me exactly what is happening. If there is a foul against one of “his boys” then Wow! Hold on to the roof because he WILL hit it!

If I was more of a footy fan then I reckon a nice quiet “yessss” would be the extend of my celebrations showing a hint of restraint, decorum and pride.

Magic?

What exactly is “Magic”?

I bet when you hear that word, you think of something along the lines of Harry potter wizardry. The impossible which does not exist in the real word. Maybe its more than that. Maybe It IS real and surrounds us all everyday. I think so. I think magic is the miracle of a baby saying their first word or that tingly feeling you get when you fall in love. Magic is something great which cannot be explained, just like love! It is a strong human emotion/ feeling that is as great as and linked to love. It can come in the tiniest of forms and be constantly taken for granted. As I wait at the train station on my way to rehearsals, I notice the sun mixing with night, trying to blaze its last pulse of energy through the clouds (Usually they don’t mix because the sun and moon are actually brothers whom fell out years ago because one wanted light and the other wanted darkness but their parents made them share which is how night and day is explained! – See you learn stuff in my blogs!) Anyway, I don’t want to get into the whole family fallout between moon and sun but one this one occasion, I guess you could call it “Twilight” *Not the film, thats rubbish!* looked beautiful/ “Magical” if you will therefore anything which holds beauty and makes you happy is magical. Perhaps not to everyone but then everyone has their own kind of magical ideas working for them.

*Sorry – Boring Girly bit*

I once read a poem by William Wordsworth called ‘Idiot Boy.’ It was about an autistic boy who was sent by his mother to fetch the doctor because the neighbour was unwell but after serveral hours he had not returned and was lost in the woods. He eventually got home and was seemily unaffected by the ordeal and was smiley and oblivious to the true world. consequently, the neighbour had worried so much about the boy that she was up out of bed and by the time he got back, was well again. I think this highlights the magic of being ignorant to the horror and fear which the world can bring and being in touch with the beauty and healing power of nature.

Public Transport

One of my biggest hates is Public Transport. Well actually not Public Transport itself – That is beautifully engineered machinery which is amazing how many people it can hold – but no, more the Public which occupy it.  I like to avoid Buses as much as possible. There is nothing worse than getting onto a bus where you have to listen to the mono-toned screech of music from the chav-tastic group sitting at the back of the bus (why are they sitting at the back anyway? or upstairs? do they think the bus will go faster if they sit there?) or squeezing yourself onto an already seemingly packed Bus which the driver coolly dismisses the fact that we might actually be over-capacity, where you cant even move to scratch your bottom without touching someone elses. Just at that moment you see a Mum waiting eagerly at the next stop with full intention of pushing her pram onto your bus as you think Please Mr Bus driver, don’t stop for her, the bus is already unbearable without taking away more of our much needed personal space. If SHE gets on then we’re going to have to start sitting on each others laps! :- It’s the same with Tubes. Who in their right mind would take a pram on a Tube during rush hour? It causes nothing much misery and stress for everyone, including the baby who must think their back in the womb or something with the heat surely reaching well over boiling point.

Trains

I was standing at Victoria Train station with headphones in full blast waiting to see which platform my train would be arriving at. An average bustle of people waiting beside me but overall not too busy. Suddenly I noticed a slightly elderly lady, although I think that was mostly just down to wear and tear as in actual fact she was probably about 40, dragging her suitcase through the crowd  and realised that out of natural human courtesy, alot of the crowd would adjust their position slightly although not enough to move out her way but enough to show willing that they at least are making an effort to help her in her travels. This seemed pointless to me. Why should anybody have to move when there was such a broad amount of other floor space she could be using? and NOT try to get THROUGH this little crowd but go around… I decided I will not move even though she is making her way toward me (theres no need.) A second later she had managed to get an inch or so past me but then catching her suitcase on my foot  she looked back at me with a look of disgust as if it was my fault that she just ran over my foot and it continually tugging at it to get it OVER my foot! So I simply looked at her and raised one eye-brow as if to say “Yes? what do you want me to do about your laziness?” and to that she said something which I couldn’t hear because of the audio noise coming from my headphones (music) but what I can only imagine was “Hey, I love your shoes!”