Hold Your Drink

Some men are just repulsive.

Try as you might to find some pleasant aspect or redeemable quality you keep coming up empty. I had the displeasure of dealing with three such men last night - the joys of working in a pub I suppose. Two hours were spent listening to the most racist and sexually degrading remarks and stories you could be subjected to. If they weren't insulting a particular ethnicity, or the women they'd allegedly slept with, they were turning on each other. It's a tough position to be in when you would love to see these men beaten to within an inch of their life, and heck they're even offering to do it themselves. Of course with customers in and a reputation to uphold I instead spent my night negotiating and preparing to call the police every five minutes. Fortunately, I suppose, they sorted out their differences and were back at the bar unleashing a sickening torrent of abusive language like the best of friends.

I suppose I'm fortunate in that I have managed to grow up in an atmosphere that doesn't tolerate, nor celebrate such disgusting behaviour. It is strange to think that, should I have been born to different parents in a different part of town, I may also have become so thuggish and narrow-minded. There, but for the grace of 'God', go I.

I think this post addresses a few things. It is an opportunity to vent and to process the events of last night. It is also an opportunity to be thankful for where I was born and who I was born to. Finally it gives me a chance to express my feelings about such people. There are hundreds of words in the English language that could sum up these three men - disgusting, vulgar, horrid, unlikeable, blackguards (this one isn't used enough) but suffice it to say, I am thankful to not be one of them.

As I'm sure you can imagine I was glad to see the back of them and had to fix myself a strong drink once they'd left. The result of dealing with our town's dregs. Hopefully they wont be back tonight and I'll be in more pleasant company.

Image Owner: Damon Cowart

Wanders

Typical, really.

I sat down to do some work for university (in this case writing up a presentation on biofilm formation and signalling - I know...) and I haven't got very far. I suppose it's my own fault for putting on some 'folkier' music to listen to while working. For me folk music has this habit of dragging my mind, or my imagination at least, off to pictures of dense forests and stormy skies. It's interesting that simple songs can have such a profound effect. A few bars in and I am all set to pack a bag and venture into the valleys and hills of the North.

And so, because I cannot focus on molecular bacteriology, I feel I should do something constructive with my time. Next Summer I intend on travelling - starting an adventure of sorts. To bring you up to speed I will be heading North, and that's the only decision I have made. I suppose a route or schedule would be beneficial but I haven't got so far yet. I also need to start looking at the clothes and kit a 'would-be adventurer' is going to require. While a lot of people would look at all the organising as laborious, I love it. Every time I research a town to pass through I feel invigorated. Each purchase, be it simply socks or a rucksack, reminds me that my journey is growing ever closer.

Normally I am quite content to wait it out - yet there are always times like this. The clocks have gone back, plunging the North into long nights of thrashing rain and blustering gales. Outside, temperatures struggle to keep above freezing, and all around I can see flora dying back and withering away. But despite the weather and the darkness I sit here comfortable in the knowledge that things will look better soon. If I just ride out the Winter, the environment will become more welcoming. And I feel it is music like this - folk music with fiddles and long, deep chords that takes my attention beyond winter, to the next Summer in the North. These songs make me restless - encouraging that itch to pack up and run.

Tonight will be spent behind the bar. Pulling pints, serving patrons and resisting this itch.

Image Owner: Steve Bruce

Clear

This does feel strange. Finally able to take a break and pen something.

With the start of my final year at university came early starts, late nights and an abundance of coursework. As a result I haven't had much time to dedicate to writing. Being in my final year I also have to look ahead to what I will be doing in a year. People are very fond of asking 'what will you do when you graduate?' when they learn you're nearly finished.

"What will you do when you graduate? Sam, what will you do when you've graduated? What are you going to do? When you graduate, Sam, what will you do?" To be quite honest I'm sick of the question because I don't know. All I know for sure is that I will be taking a year off. I have been in education since turning 4 years old and have not stopped. I feel I've earned a rest. So I will take a year for myself - it is my life after all, right? Hopefully I will get a chance to travel, and to write. Whether it be for my blog, for magazines, or for a book - I intend to keep up with my writing. After this year of travelling, writing (and likely working) I suppose I'll take a look at the future properly. Perhaps continue with education, start a career, maybe even make something out of writing.

Also, as I eluded to above, there has been talk of a book. Originally it started with my grandmother asking if I 'felt I had a book in me' to which I reminded her that I haven't lived enough life to write a postcard, never mind a book. Then, slowly over the past few months, more people asked. I discussed what I would like to write, what I feel I am capable of writing, and why I would bother writing in the first place (as much as I'm supposed to be interested in getting published or making money, I'd be content writing a book for the sake of cataloguing my experiences - the rest is just a bonus, should it come to that).

So there we have it, with my short break I have cleared my head and made a 'plan' for the future. Apologies if you were reading and thinking 'when will he write about something interesting? When will he use a metaphor or sneak some crafty life lesson into this?' Sometimes you just need to take five minutes, assess and put your mind at rest.

We'll resume normal programming shortly...

Image Owner: * ismail *

Better The Devil You Know

It rained today...

It rained long, and it rained hard. The sort of weather that is accompanied by chilled winds and shadowed skies. A storm which feels at home out to sea. I walked through the storm, hood up and coat zipped - for reasons I'll tell you all about some other time. While walking I passed a small Methodist church. I have passed this church countless times, and whenever I do it has a witty sign outside. Usually the sign humorously encourages people in, or advocates a pro-God message. Today's message felt somewhat more sinister. The inky letters printed on dank, wet page read:

'Nobody is too bad to come in
Nobody is too good to stay out'

An interesting dichotomy. In two lines, the preacher has managed to capture everything I hate about organised religion. Nobody is too bad to come in? I dare say there is a plethora of minorities unwelcome in the Church - one only has to look as far as Christians blocking gay marriage to see that some of us are more welcome than others in this little community.

However, this is frivolous to me. A little white lie - a masking of the truth to save face. It is the second line that I find disgusting and utterly toxic. 'Nobody is too good to stay out.' This notion, that we are all evil or impure in some way. Regardless of the good we do, or the moral actions we take - we are still not good enough for this 'omnipotent creator'. I fear this is how we are to be suckered in. The Church tells us we are ill. From a position of authority and apparent wisdom, it tells us we are plagued. As if this news was not enough, it tells us there is no cure. 'No matter your course of action you will not treat this disease...

Unless!

Unless you come in. Come into our humble church. Accept our deity and praise Him with all your heart. Leave your families and friends. Leave your passions and ambitions to follow Him. Only then will you be on the path to a cure. But you will never be fully cured, you must remember this.'

What a truly rotting ideology. To forgo everything you know and love and aspire to be - in order to pursue blind faith and reward in a fictitious afterlife. If you'll permit me, I would like to raise an argument for the defence. An alternate ideology - one that you can choose to accept or discard as you see fit. My belief is this. You are not sick. You are not damaged. You are good enough to stay out. You are you - defined by your loved ones, your passions and your possessions. You do not need to dedicate your life to a phantom. Be truly great. Not for eternal life, nor because your deity commands it. Be truly great because you can be, and because you deserve to be.

You were created in the image of you

Image Owner: Maslavista

Mind Over Matter

"Stand and deliver

Your body, or your mind!"

Of course you have little control over which you lose and when. But if you had the option, the choice of which to forgo, which would you go for? When asked, I cannot help but conjure the image of a highway man, armed and masked, threatening 'Your money or your life!'

Sat at the bar of our pub tonight were two old regulars. One was a demolitions expert for many years. While he is physically quite fit, a stroke some years ago affected his speech and cognition. With him was an ex-accountant. A small man whose body is failing him. Ravaged internally by bacteria and disease; withered externally by terrible muscular atrophy. Though his body is letting him down, his mind doesn't miss a trick. Apparently he is as quick-witted these days as he was 50 years ago. Seeing the dichotomy presented between these two men, I began thinking about which state I would rather be in.

I've recently been experiencing the position of the latter man - that of a tired body and a fresh mind. I rise each morning at 5.45am to walk 4 miles and travel two hours by bus. As you can imagine this activity takes its toll, leaving me aching and exhausted towards the end of the week. Why, even now, I am laid in bed forcing my body to stay awake and active while my mind puts pen to paper. Truth be told I am unsure which I would rather maintain, body or mind, if the other had to waste away. Luckily such decisions are somewhat out of my hands...

~

An interesting and brief aside. During the summer I bought some of John Green's books (an author who encourages people to leave notes in the front of his books for new readers). As I was buying books and taking notes, I felt it only fitting to pen a few brief notes of my own - for future bookshop customers.

Low and behold, three months later, I get a message out of the blue. A message from a girl who travelled to my city during the summer and happened across my note while she was shopping. To see something of mine in the hands of a person I'll never meet, and to know that little scrap of paper brightened their day, and is special to them is truly uplifting.

Now my note resides across the sea, cheering up someone I may never have known...

Who says writing isn't special?

The Fall

'This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper'

Ok, so the world is not ending, but the season is. It began earlier this week; shorter days, cooler temperatures and a distinct lack of blue sky. Summer seems to have passed us by in the north of England, as ever.
I had hoped the season would end in a flourish of brilliant sunshine and soaring temperatures. Summer seems to have a better idea. Summer intends to slope off, gradually fading into Autumn before anyone has the chance to ask where it's off to. Summer is the quiet girl at the party who slinks away after an hour or so - going home for the night because the music's too loud and her friends are too drunk.

For a lot of people Summer is the season. Perhaps it's the heat, the green on the trees or the blue up above. Or perhaps these people realise what comes after. The birds migrate, the leaves fall and Summer's bright colours fade into grey. For the majority, Summer is a brief 'warm-up' act - the year's headline performance is six months of icy winds and thrashing rain. It's easy to see why people are so attached to Summer.

Summer, however, is not for me. I find Autumn much more appealing. From the morning's frost-bitten lawns to the evening's inky-black, star-littered skies. I love seeing my own breath (as a child I pretended to be a dragon!), and I love the smell of smoke from chimneys and garden fires. Autumn for me is Halloween. It is treacle toffee and roaring bonfires. Autumn is fireworks, thick clothes and hot chocolate. While it is a little disheartening to see Summer on her deathbed, I am quite content.

...Autumn is coming.

Image Owner: Donna St. Pierre

Entropy

For those who read my blog, you may recall a post I wrote last month entitled 'The eye of the storm'. The post discussed how life can become very loud, busy and difficult on a whim - and that you should appreciate the fleeting moments of calm. Low and behold, last week life got hectic again. My time has been taken by a whole host of events;

• Crises of faith
• Family problems
• Friend problems
• Writing for other publications
• Managing a pub

Trust me, the list goes on. Thankfully I am working through a lot of this and have stolen away enough time to keep posting here.

Recently, a few friends have been having troubles. I'm sure you can relate. One day, out of the blue, a friend comes to you saying 'oh, my life is terrible. Nothing is working out.' We've all been there, and we all know how it feels to have the world against us. Over the years, as friends and family have presented this outlook to me, I have looked for a way to help and put their fears into perspective. This is my method of dealing with things when life gets to be a bit too much. 

Imagine all the good things in life in a pile. Your friends, your family, your passions and successes - these all make up the good pile. Then consider all the bad things. All the debt, health problems, upset and loss - these all make up the bad pile. In times of crisis the bad pile can be enormous; almost too large to bear. Heck, next to the bad pile, your good pile is a speck of dust at times. However, and this is the important part, these two piles do not influence one another. No matter how large the bad pile is, it does not diminish the good things you have. Those good things are no less special, uplifting or life-changing.

Of course this outlook works the other way. Should your problems be few and your 'good pile' be overwhelming - the bad pile is still important. It is still significant, and it should still be addressed. What I stress is this;

Add to the good pile, and chip away at the bad pile.

Image Owner: Donna St. Pierre

Persevere...

So, these have been a trying few weeks. I am currently in the middle of resitting some exams. Exams on which my future literally depends. The outcome of these tests will influence the rest of my life, to some degree. Further, I am blindly stumbling through a spiritual crisis and balancing home and family troubles simultaneously.

I have been meaning to write on perspective for some weeks now, but I have not felt ready. I want to sit and write on understanding and perceiving the world - its technical brilliance and rich history. I want to write articles for those whose life is crumbling and tell them to strive forward. That the good and bad in life do not taint one another.

This is not an eloquent, redrafted and refined post. It is a chance to vent. To open up and say "I want to write, I want to explore - but I am tired, I am stressed. Inside I am shutting down - yet I am pushing on

 ...I am not done yet"

Image Owner: Kimiagar

Horizons

Name: Samuel

Age: 20

Passion:...

Interesting, isn't it? How no CV, job application or interview asks for your passion in life. While each wants to get to know you, they all manage to miss this most important question. Instead they tend to focus on the academic achievements of your youth, and the hobbies you keep presently."Why yes, I got three As in my exams, and my hobbies include golfing and walking the dog." 

Quite unfortunate really...

It is unfortunate because this is not the measure of a person. You are so much more than this. What I feel truly defines you, is your passion in life. Everybody has a passion. An aspect of the world which fulfils them. An aspect that acts as a driving force and as a foundation for dreams. I place great importance in passion. It is neither a letter on the page, nor, necessarily, a socially accepted past-time. Your passion can be anything - any aspect of the world you please. It is not defined by culture. Nor by race, religion or social standing. The only criterion your passion requires is your full and undivided enthusiasm and enjoyment.

My passion in life, I am sure you are dying to know, is travelling. I look out of my window and can picture the rolling hills, rocky crags and dense forests that lie beyond the horizon. More than that, I picture myself exploring them. Journeying and adventuring. And nothing makes me happier. The feeling of elation is one you'll fully understand if you too have discovered your passion in life. I find myself, on occasion, wishing I was born elsewhere. Somewhere more rugged and rural. Somewhere with lakes and woods, rather than takeaways and pubs - that would be ideal. Honestly, I do not feel I will be completely happy until I can spend the majority of my life travelling, and exploring my passion.

It has started raining...

While I enjoy the sound of rain thudding off my window, I cannot help but think about those distant fields and forests. It will be raining there too. More than that, it will be pouring - and the wind will howl. The storm, so easily deflected at home, will bear down on these wild places. And I long to be there, experiencing.

I sincerely hope that you can relate to this feeling. That you too are this passionate about something - anything. I hope that you have found your passion and drive in life. If you have not, then remember...

...it is out there.

Image Owner: daylong

Shoulders of Giants

There is a simple joy in cycling. It reminds me of a time, not long since passed. A time of lazy days, quiet villages and empty roads. So, as I cycled the ten miles out into the countryside, I felt conflicted. You see, every overhanging tree and chirping songbird was ruined by spluttering exhausts and noxious fumes. The horses and carts have given way to horsepower and burning rubber. Despite the journey's mixed signals - of gorgeous flowers and choking exhaust vapours, I reached my friend's home feeling upbeat.

The reason for my excursion? An adventure.

I was to stay the night at my friend's home. In the morning we would meet with others and head across the county border to explore Brimham Rocks - an area full of unique and precarious rock formations. And this, dear reader, is what we did.

Now, Brimham Rocks is unique. Awe inspiring and interesting. It is a place of history and heritage, a landmark of sorts. Having said that, boys will be boys - and boys like to climb big rocks. Hence, the day was spent climbing, negotiating, and jumping between the site's formations. I was also reminded of an obscure fear, a compulsion of mine. And I was reminded whilst atop a 40ft high rock. Don't fret, it's not a fear of heights - it is much worse.

I fear to be on top of tall structures, because I feel a compulsion to throw myself off.

It's a peculiar feeling. To look over the edge, straight down 40 feet and think to yourself "What if I were to jump?" As much as I try to rationalise my thoughts, it is still there - the voice in the back of my mind. "Go on Sam, we've never jumped off something so high before, let's see what will happen." I know what would happen, but I have to climb down. I have to climb back down because the longer I am up there, the greater the compulsion to throw both caution, and myself, to the wind. I am sure there are others in a similar boat. Others who occasionally hear a mischievous voice whispering in their ear, convincing them to go against sensibility and rationality. While you want to silence it, this voice howls and wails until the opportunity it saw has passed. So I climb down, and let the opportunity for a spectacular and ill-equipped skydive pass.

If there's a take-home message, or pearl of wisdom in my brief  adventure, it is the sense of achievement. In a world increasingly occupied by video games, and convenient living, a sense of achievement is easy to come by. What I rediscovered, while choosing to conquer 40 feet of shapeless sediment, was this -

Aim high, and achieve for yourself. While anyone can 'stand on the shoulders of giants', it is a greater feat to climb up there in the first place.

Image Owner: Stephanie (Violet Danger)

Beyond

Q) Have you ever considered running?
A) Every day of my life...

An abundance of events warrant you wanting to run away. Unfortunately, most are quite negative. Whether you have lost a loved one, or let someone down, it is natural to feel like escaping. Running off - impossibly fast and indescribably far...

But, those are discussions we can save for another time. Today we are in a brighter mood.

At least once a day I consider leaving. It may be over breakfast, or while I am in the shower - but at least once a day I consider it. Retreating back into my mind, I list the pros and cons of packing a bag, kissing goodbye and venturing off, into the unknown.

Pros - Complete freedom. Adventure. People to meet and places to go. A plethora of villages, forests, rivers and hills to explore...

Cons - Money. Lack of food and shelter. No security. Time without my loved ones...

Every day I seriously weigh up the options - playing it out in my head. And every day I say to myself "not today Sam... But one day." Well let me tell you, 'one day' cannot come soon enough. You see, this want to travel is an itch. You can try to ignore it - put it at the back of your mind, forget for a while. But every time you delay your journey, or ignore the itch, it becomes louder. As each day passes, you become more convinced that the itch needs scratching. That you need to escape your comfort zone, into the wide world beyond.

The journey I dream about is not a cheap holiday, nor a week away. This journey seems grander. Starting at the front door, with a bag and tent, I will walk. It requires neither planning nor direction, but could take months to complete. I do not know for how long I would be gone, and I don't know where my travels would take me...

But that is the fun, isn't it?

I sincerely hope that you can relate. That you too have thought of running. Of leaving behind your comfort zone, and your possessions, in order to experience something more. Something unique, and personally remarkable...

Image Owner: Cindy's Here

The Eye of the Storm

I have been sitting, considering my third post for over half an hour. There is no shortage of ideas - quite the contrary, I feel inundated with options and avenues to take you down. But as I explore the stories and opinions I wish to share, it hits me. A new firework of thought bursts into being. Bigger and brighter than what came before. My tales are put on hold - filed away. Ladies and gentlemen, we have our course.

I am somewhat surprised that it didn't hit me sooner...

 Like the majority of people, I have a job. It is a simple, old-fashioned job - I work behind a bar. Similar to everybody else's jobs, there are quiet shifts and there are busy shifts. Today's was a 'rushed-off-your-feet, sweating and gasping for breath' shift - with more customers than I have ever experienced. Customers who become increasingly drunk and increasingly difficult as the night grinds on.

"As a biologist I can't condone serving six more shots, especially after seeing you throw your guts up outside - but as a barman, jager or aftershock sir?" I resist the sarcastic commentary and pour the drinks. The night continues in much the same fashion, with the pace and the work becoming exhausting - I am thankful to finish.

So this is why I am surprised it did not hit me sooner. Sitting in my small room, curled up in an armchair - I am in the eye of a storm. I am sure you have also found yourself in such situations. Everything in life becomes loud and hectic, your attention being drawn in every direction. By working hard and striving forward you are able to earn some peace - some time to yourself. But this is just the eye. Things will build up again. There will always be turmoil and difficulty - they come with life. You will have to work hard, exert yourself and push forward.

And I sincerely hope you have the strength to do this...

However, my aim was not to wish you strength and luck. When I began writing I wanted to draw your attention to this quiet moment - this eye of the storm. When life's difficulties have you surrounded, screaming and shouting for attention, remember this. In this hesitant moment of calm, you have your health and you have time for yourself. Make the most of it. Disregard the chaos to come and the hardships already passed - make the most of this beautiful, serene, empty moment...

Because it too, will soon pass.

Image Owner: DaneLehman

The Beaten Track

I have always loved writing. Allowing thoughts to collide with ideas and inspiration, in a way never before conceived. Combining the familiar, warm words in new ways for the delight and interest of whoever might chance across them.

For me, writing is akin to a walk in the woods. The beginning is always difficult. Where do you start? You struggle to find your way, often becoming turned round - lost and confused before you have even begun. Eventually, thankfully, you will locate the beaten path or dirt track you wish to follow. As you meander down this path, your pace becomes fluid - slowing at key events or themes, as one might slow to enjoy the flowers, before hurrying on again. And while you continue forwards, leaving the path here and there to explore the undergrowth that gives your work its dimension, you are safe in the knowledge that you know which direction you are heading in.

To begin truly is the hardest part of writing. I enjoy the sense of achievement felt upon clambering through the thickets and hedgerows that cloud my mind, reaching the well-travelled path beyond. It is not dissimilar to solving a puzzle. In one brief flash, one moment of clarity, you make sense of the jumbled information and it all falls into place. Why then, with such a passion for putting pen to page, have I avoided writing for years?

The blame lies rightly with my old English teacher, who allowed hindrance and criticism to take the place of support and nurture. While she put me off at first, it is a mantra of sorts that has convinced me to begin scrawling my thoughts for the world to see. I have come across different approaches to life in books, film, through the people I know and once during a midnight conversation with a Greek man in an underground Manchester bar. And while everyone has a different approach to living life, I am content with my own little 'mantra'...

Do what makes you happy

Regardless of the money you earn, the places you go, the people you meet and the ones you leave behind -

Always do what makes you happy.

Image Owner: Wilfred Thomas

Incandescence

There are few situations that infuriate me more than an instance where my head is ready to burst, and I've nothing to put down on the page.

I'm sure everybody has these moments - moments where fantastical, absurd, bizarre and intriguing ideas bounce around in the old grey matter. You feel inspired, creative and eager to fashion some great literary work, write a perfect song or pen a revolutionary political statement...

But you can't.

You can't because these thoughts are similar to fireworks. They appear in the darkness, impossibly bright and indescribably dynamic. These rockets and Roman candles are sudden, screaming, stunning. But they are also fleeting. Rapidly disappeared. No sooner have you perceived them than they have dissipated into the darkness. And just as you might struggle to snap a photo before the firework fades in the sky, you cannot sum up your ideas with words as they have escaped you once more.

And so, this is how I find myself staring off into space, with the dull thudding of rain against my window to keep me company. Frustrated and wrapped up in my own fireworks.

At least I've managed to get one down on the page though.

image owner: Corey.C