Satisfaction in insignificance (2nd edition)

In 2009 I wrote my first ever blog post. It was a deep one, I'm not going to lie, but it clearly identified a key episode of change in in my life and in my thinking. Blah blah blah. The point is, I was recently reminded that I'm lucky to have written down my thoughts so early on and I've probably been making less sense ever since.

Why this re-post now? Merely because these song lyrics played on my Ipod yesterday, and it all came flooding back:

'I'd rather fight you for something I don't really want than to take what you give that I need.' Rich Mullins

01.02am, Sat 28th MAR 2009: I've decided to write a note. Not too deep that it makes philosophers go into meditation but deep enough for a good number to question my sanity.

You know when your walking on a beach, along the waters edge, and your eyes scan the sand ahead of you- firstly to avoid the general crap but also because you have always dreamt of seeing something special hidden amongst the clusters of grit. A piece of an old ship’s bell just peaking up in the sand, an old roman coin washed ashore from a wreck half a mile off the coast of Fiji, a pebble perfectly encrusted with a prehistoric creature that tells the story from years ago. I don’t think it’s the age of the item, it is more the excitement of spotting that something- constructing an incredible story to go with ‘what it could be’- running toward it- scraping it clean- taking it home- spending time evaluating it- looking on the Internet or reading a book to investigate it- telling people (who may not care what you found on the beach the day before!). I would imagine that, unless it had some value, either emotional or monetary, it would soon become a piece of clutter. And even value can seem to diminish when you get complacent with it.

But what if that item, which had now become clutter, sat on a mantle piece gathering dust, did indeed have value- value that was priceless- in-fact gaining value daily. What if someone who knew more about these types of thing came in your house one day and saw it, and you could see from the way their face lit up every time their eye scanned it, that was actually very valuable. That the investigation you first put into it, which initially gave you interest, was not as thorough as you thought. In theory my reaction would be to become very interested in it again, very quickly.

But that doesn’t always seem to be the case. The revolving doors of peoples hearts push in and push out so much crap that the good stuff gets put aside because its stable. And begins to gather dust. It seems that we're still looking for the next sparkly item to capture our two second attention span- when our value is actually hidden inside the safety of our house, willing to benefit. It may have once been thought that we knew all that this item could offer but slowly other people are seeing the revolution in the shards of its sparkle, in the grave clothes, in the scars. We had become so content with the information gained from initial investigations- but there was/is so much more.

If we know something of the predicted value, if we know the benefits, if we have experienced the joy and know there is much more ahead for the investigator, why decide to enjoy looking for other insignificant items? I do, and I can’t work it out.

Facebook has become a little bit of a beach for me. Exploring the possibilities of the worthless. That is why I’m having a little fast. To think. To read. To pray. 

And there you go. That was my first post. 

I think I need to take some of my own advice again.

the small screen, the big screen

There is a period from the time I get into bed to the time I feel its already too late to get a good wholesome nights sleep. It’s called either YouTube Time! or IPlayer time! - depending on your taste. I am so diverse, I manage to do both- most nights. Just so you can keep up, the latest YouTube videos to make me laugh are Advice from a Cartoon Princess and A Sassy Gay Friend. Both go to prove that Americans can have a sense of humour. Surprises all around.

To illustrate the power of YouTube (and to show I am obviously not the only one taken in by that rectangular box) my friends ‘Daviglio’ upload home-made music videos about once a week. Last week, they found themselves at number 14 in the Italian Itunes Charts. Quite incredible. And I’m not even sure they knew they had any Italian fans!

BBC Iplayer on the other hand just saves me getting a television licence. Their comedy shows are getting a little dry as of late, but the documentaries (such as Planet Earth last night) never stop blowing me away.

I almost gave up on the Cinema, until last night when I saw ‘The King’s Speech’. Wonderful film, very plain, very ordered, very simple, very well acted. In short, I wasn’t bored once. I snuck a burrito in with me, and there was a point where I thought by eating it (as you obviously have to glance at your food every now and then to check its going into your mouth) I would be missing out. This, if nothing else, proves it was a good film.

There are some serious YouTubes out there as well. I posted one on my Facebook wall recently called ‘Transgender despair’. Very challenging.

Don't judge a 'look' by it's cover

Book launches are totally new to me- I had never been to one and had no idea what to expect. I couldn’t quite work out how this particular one was planning to combine the over-enthusiastic nature of Evangelical Christianity with a serious secular book release. It didn’t take long for me to go from reading the launch invite to thoughts of super-keen smiling people, denim skirts, amplified music that takes you back to memories of 80’s folk ballads, and quiche. In that regard, I was convinced it could be interesting, if nothing else.

Dress codes are not my thing, and yet, to save face I thought it would be worth getting out the ‘smart shoes’. It wasn’t, and with the rain pouring down, the five minutes walk made my smart shoes significantly less smart. Definitely not the look for a book launch.

Google maps lead me to the entrance of a Community Centre. There was something about the front doors that said 'I'm made of shatter proof glass...for a reason', so I promptly pushed in, avoiding eye contact, and trotted up the stairs. Everyone seemed to be casually mingling, but the majority suspiciously lacked the book launch ‘look’. Glass of a sparkling something in hand I turned to administer small talk. Immediately the conversation became quite lively and I found myself rather engaged in conversations about the chronicles of Narnia, poverty in Traveller communities, and mud hut building with offenders in Wales.

A short interruption, the part for the 'book talk', gave way to a stream of praise for both author and content, a part I suspected would eventually happen. Unfortunately, I wasn’t listening, and couldn’t for the life of me tell you what was said. You see, I was distracted by the paint pealing off the rafters above us, the marked hardwood floor of a well used space, and the people like trees in a wild forest; all different types, shapes and sizes, but peacefully standing, listening and smiling. And there’s where it hit me. I was standing in a community centre, with a real community of people. A venue that offered honest transparency and a book that drew together people searching for social harmony, this was idealist heaven. I looked down at my damp shoes, which had at this point started steaming, and most probably smelling literally horrific, and yet, it just didn’t matter- to me at least.

As the talk finished, I found myself smiling. Closing chit-chat wasn’t a big priority, so I walked to the table, picked up a copy of the book and headed toward the door. If I’m honest, I had originally never intended to read the book. I knew the main jist was the Muslim-Christian conversation, and that I had heard it too many times from too many bigoted positions to even consider thinking about it again. But this was different, and we all knew it. As I rapped my scarf around my neck and headed out into the cold wind, I had a few seconds to reflect. If this book’s only strength ends up being a tool to bring people together where before they had felt alien, ignorant or different, I want to read it.

If you want to know more about Nick Chatraths book you can find out here, plus you can read his latest thoughts on his frequently updated discussion page. As you got all the way down here you may as well check it out:

www.onestopguide.org

The one about Hobbies.

I walked in to a vintage shop yesterday. I bet you think you know where this is going but you don’t, although I did end up buying a lovely cardigan. As everyone knows Vintage shops are unique places, not just because everyone in there is striving to be unique but also because it’s a place where people come, and are allowed, to reminisce. Talking about Tapes (preferably Now43), the SNES, your sisters Polly Pocket, and your mums huge shoulder pads. It all adds to the experience.

So what seems like a rather odd conversation now, was a pretty normal one when it happened in the Vintage shop, Brighton lanes. As I completed my purchase it was time to round off the conversation with the shop assistant. As one does, I inquired after his weekend plans. Apparently, said shop assistant takes every Sunday off. I couldn’t leave this hanging- it had the potential to be interesting. ‘To do…’ I added. 

Twenty minutes passed and I realised my mistake- never get someone started on their weekend hobbies. But I must admit, it wasn’t all bad. Apart from other things (like battle re-enactments and comic club, which did not interest me one bit) Jack and Teresa had spent the last 3 years trekking around Brighton and devoting two meals on a Sunday to trying out hundreds (if not thousands- but I have a feeling that was a slight exaggeration on Jacks part) of Pub Sunday Roasts.  ‘Over the last 3 years that's all we've done on a Sunday- think I've done them all'. The 'all' is a limited all, obviously, but I have to be honest and say that I think they have done a smashing job nonetheless. And here’s me, the common man, not even realising that that kind of thing could be classed as a hobby? You can never stop learning in a Vintage store.

I’m more traditional when it comes to hobbies, but it’s the traditional hobbies that just end up being boring. I think I'm developing a new hobby at the moment. I haven't quite pinned down what I will do, nevertheless this week I've developed a running route for the new running club I've got in the pipeline, had a disastrously fun game of squash, had a Moroccan themed first-of-many Come-Dine-With-Me nights and I've just purchased the next book in the list ready for February's book club. I had to turn down a games night last week for the sake of said trip to Brighton - who couldn't say no to a £3.95 return ticket.

Beside the hobbies, there are always the practicalities of real life. My car went in for it's MOT this morning and meant I had a cold brisk run to work instead of a warm drive in. A clever idea to get the bus to pick up the car from it's MOT garage is only clever if the bus is going towards the garage and not in the opposite direction. Apparently Stanton St John is not Stanford on Thames. So a round bus journey of 2 hours has finished off what has been a pretty relaxed Friday afternoon. I know 'bussing' is probably a legit hobby but I can safely say it's not for me. Would be a good topic in a Vintage shop discussion though- I’ll suggest it to Jack and Teresa when I next see them.

Staying in

Has it all gone wrong when the Internet seems more interesting than your actual life? I mean, things are happening around me, don’t get me wrong. I had invites to a gallery opening, two spontaneous coffee’s, a date with the cinema (not a date with a person, lets be clear) and I was even thinking of inviting myself to go for a run.

I know where it all started. The pasta lunch. As my mum, when on diet, insists ‘it weighs you down’, and boy did I feel floppy. Digestion whilst seated- the colon/intestine etc folded over into paralysis-  especially when a really good book draws you into that keen ‘hunch-back’ position. (Or would it flush out faster when your sitting down…? I assume that’s the logic of the toilet?) Anywho, the only exercise was from the coffee shop to the car, and from the car to the house. Front door open, bedroom door closed and I am ready for bed. Is this what I’ve come to?

And yet.. (the noise of pondering flutters about a bit)… It takes five minutes in this reflective morose state to realise that actually staying in is not that bad. Give legs a rest, I say! Just think of the clutch and brake muscle they have used this week! Good grief, and to think I almost labeled myself as lazy! And its not like I’m not being productive? Im on my bed, on facebook, texting, writing a blo… oh wait. Real lifes caught up with me again.

I think I’ll go for a walk.