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 *

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?

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