Square one

Square one

Square one

I’ve always been surrounded by people that knew where they wanted to go in life. At school I had friends that chose their qualifications based on their future careers. In love I joined people that were working towards their end goal of being the best they could in their field. These people, I admire.

It’s like playing a game of snakes and ladders; there’s one hundred squares on a board and everyone has the same goal. The one hundredth square is the goal. Every roll of the dice I throw I may get closer but I may also fall prey to a snake and fall right back to square one. Meanwhile everyone I know may be rolling the same dice and be edging close to that one hundredth square.

The difference is, they know what their square one hundred is. It may be that they want to be a lead in a west end show or they may want to be a high-end photographer. They may want to be a teacher of psychology or an architect but they know what the end goal looks like.

My point is, square one, in the same way square one hundred does, looks different for everyone. Gaining control for one moment, feeling like you’re winning can be the maker. Then all of a sudden you hit your snake. Back to square one.

Square one is a place many people don’t want to visit. For me, it was a place of nuance. Square one taught me not to sweat the small stuff; it taught me my family were more important than anyone. Square one taught me that I needed to grow up and to appreciate everything about living at Home that I took for granted.

Square one may be a place that, if you’re trying to win, sucks. But who are you trying to beat?


The Real Gay Agenda

The Real Gay Agenda

The LGBT community is one that has faced many obstacles in its short public existence. For the past few decades it has grown in the media and we’re now seeing more and more representation in tv and film, celebrities are coming out everyday and the world is changing to allow us to be married in multiple countries. Whilst the majority of us in the western world can now live an open and happy life, much of the community still lives in fear however being a member of this so called ‘community’ for twenty one years (seven openly) has taught me its biggest obstacle is itself. To put things in perspective I’m going to use what I like to call the M&M analogy. Imagine you have a bag of peanut M&M’s and you’re allergic to peanuts. However, in this bag, all the red ones are safe to eat so naturally you wade through the bag picking out all the red ones. Now, this bag is shared with everyone else but some people are like you and can only have he red ones but some people can have he red or blue and some people can have any colour they want but sooner or later you’re going to clash with someone that wants the same red one as you. Not only will you clash, with the limited amount of red M&Ms you will probably grab one someone else has already had and put back. It’s unavoidable. That’s the gay community. You would have heard the term ‘gay agenda’ thrown around by straight rednecks who believe all we want to do is make other people gay or trans or whatever the target person may identify as and all honesty there’s some truth in that. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying the community wants the world to be like them the way the world wanted (and still wants) then to be, but I am saying that all too often the LGBT are ready to attack each-other for being different. In a world where loving the people you do isn’t the norm it’s tough to finally come to terms with that. I’m not denying people’s struggles although not personally having to go through it as I was lucky enough to be brought up in a family that didn’t care either way. With that in mind, everyone should then understand that everything is delayed. Being a twelve or thirteen year old straight kid when you have your first ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’ and then breaking up with them after two weeks and listening exclusively to Kelly Clarkson’s ‘since you’ve been gone’ or Avril Lavigne’s “complicated” on repeat isn’t something the LGBT community gets to experience authentically. As a result, the early 20’s is that time and furthermore people seem to be trapped in this endless cycle of immature insecurity. It’s a community that gets angry if you go on a date with someone that a friend was remotely involved with ten years ago, a community that allows itself to propose and be engaged to two different people within a year (and be with neither of them in the present) and it’s a community that begs for equality and acceptance by putting itself in a smaller box. It’s men that are in committed relationships for years only to get dumped and then find the love of their lives weeks later or fall in love with a ‘straight’ man and allow themselves to be used as the token. Its a place where babies are born because one man decides he needs to be straight and it’s a place where a person can moan about their significant other and proclaim their hatred for hem only to crawl right back into bed with them with not so much as two words between them. It’s a community that is divided between the left wing liberals and the right wing ‘not real’ members. Side note: all of the above are real examples that I have seen and are in no way fictitious. There’s a sub culture of “if it’s not intense or dramatic then it’s not real” and that’s bullshit. There needs to be a balance and there needs to be an understanding that if two gay people meet by chance they don’t need to fall in love or get married or even sleep together, they don’t even need to try and date each other. I’ve learnt in my short stay that the real gay agenda, for all of us is to love and be loved back. I’ve also learnt that the attempts to get there are somewhat misguided and are not in any way equal. Speaking from personal experience, I’ve had men ask me out on a date and within two minutes are coining the phrase “show me your big…” and whilst I’m flattered at you’re description of my penis it’s not the way to go about seeing it. I’ve had guys offer to pick me up and say something along the lines of “you can come out to my car” as apposed to knocking on my door and picking me up like a respectable human being would. I’ve seen other members of the community be taken advantage of because of their need to feel loved by someone who legitimately is only giving them the time of day for attention. It’s a self hating void that needs to learn to love itself before asking for what they think is love or any semblance of a normal relationship.

The stop gap 

 I’ve been on hiatus for a while and to those who follow this weekly I apologise; however something happened to me and I had nothing to say.  
There’s a point when you look in the mirror and the words fall from your mouth “who the fuck are you?”. Now correct me if I’m wrong, identity crises are far and few between but when you look at yourself day after day and all that you can quote is Meredith Brooke’s ‘Bitch’ something needs to change. 
I can’t speak for everyone but I can speak for myself. I know that over the years I’ve given as good as I’ve got, I’ve fought my corner even though I wasn’t necessarily winning. It’s that nature that’s gotten me through. It’s not healthy, however, to run from everything. This is something I’ve mastered, the mentality that if I can’t see it then it can’t see me but the truth is it’s there. It always will be, the feeling of not being good enough or the feeling of embarrassment will linger. It’s something that I have come to terms with and given myself to. All this time I’ve had it in me but sometimes I need a push. 
I think that eventually everyone’s luck runs out and once it does it’s the wake up call you need. Most of us avoid having to get there but for those of us that have to reach that point before we finally stop and think of my initial question, it’s needed. People look towards you as some kind of confident people person but it’s all a game, it’s something I’ve learnt to master. I constantly win, I’m able to fool everyone into believing me and I’m able to function as normal without a single person batting an eyelid. 
As of late, I’ve had a self destruct button pushed well and truly in. It’s over. I’m done playing the victim and I will not continue this way. I will resume life as normal. I will work and I’ll continue to pick fights and answer rhetorics with sarcasm and walk my dog and continue to be me.  

I Am A Camera 

I Am A Camera 

Everything has a beginning, middle and an end, something everyone has been conditioned to accept from day one; but what about the parts in between, the transition? The change is something nobody ever really gets used to. I mean, how do we truly know when one thing has ended and it’s time for another to begin? 

For example, we’re born and we live the first few years as an infant, then we move on to childhood, then young adults and so on, but where is the line? Where’s the divide? Who decided that we when we live the first five years of our lives that we’re ready to start learning about the world around us? Who decided that after the first 13 that our bodies would become ready to have sex? Who decides when we’re ready to ‘grow up’? I know, it’s refreshing to hear adolescent angst along the lines of an identity crisis or whatever but that’s not what this is. I know exactly who I am; I’m just not sure whether I like it. 

Christopher Isherwood once said; ‘I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking.’ It sums up all I am and all I ever will be, for that is exactly what I am, a camera that does not think but still takes it all in and reacts. There’s a moment, there’s always just a second when the button clicks and the flash goes off when a picture is taken and we get a glimpse of everything that’s going on. In this moment we have a choice; do I keep it and take it for what it is logically and calculated or do I react without even giving it a thought? 

The reaction, wether calculated or not always follows. Someone I once knew said “until you make the change, you’ll never know the outcome” and that resonates with me to this day. Among other things it was one thing that has stuck because we can sit here and say that ” things won’t change and people don’t change so why bother?” But until we make that change, we’ll never know for sure. 

Change is hard, this is a common fact akin to no one likes change but it’s important to realise when something needs to in order to benefit ourselves and the people around us. Regardless of whether you’re in the begging, the middle or the end of a situation at any point it’s sometimes necessary to change direction. Go back to the beginning, fast forward to the end and revisit the middle of you have to. It’s ok to record for a while, take the snapshots and react accordingly. 

The biggest challenge when it comes to change, of course, is ourselves but in all honesty; when there’s more in your head than you find in your life, it’s time for a change. 

The Glamorous Addiction 

The Glamorous Addiction 

Addiction is a word that’s followed by scrutiny and judgement, sympathy and sadness but one thing addiction often isn’t followed by is understanding. More often than not we pass a homeless man on the street and we instinctively think that he has a drug addiction, heroin or crack, something that we deem below the social standard. We often look at those people and forget that addiction comes in many forms, some of which we actually idolise. We’re taught from an early age that being a drug addict is a bad thing yet simultaneously we’re asked by peers to swallow a bottle of vodka before a party. 
Everyone wants to know how much you can drink until you drink too much, everyone wants to ‘drink you under the table’ until you actually end up under the table. There’s a sense of pride that comes with being able to drink more or not suffer the consequences of drinking that isn’t associated with other addictions. That is, until it’s too late. 
Recently I heard a young girl, about seventeen, joke about how she hadn’t been out over the weekend to drink her usual bottle of wine and ‘socialise’ with her friends. This then led to her joking about how she may be going through withdrawals. Anyone that knows me knows that I am one of the hardest people to offend, however in this circumstance I wondered how different it might have been if it was cocaine or heroine. No one would have laughed, they all would have turned and either walked away in disgust or tried to help.   

When people you know try to deter you from drinking they all bring up stories about how someone they used to know, usually a person with so many prospects who was good looking, is now an alcoholic. They usually mention how they bumped into them in a garage or an off-licence buying a bottle of booze and how they’re not so good looking anymore and the stories are usually told with disgust. What about the people that function? What about the people you pass on the street day after day, or even the people that may be training you to do your job that you have no idea about? What if the only reason why they always have a joke to tell or the reason why they are so outgoing is that they too are a slave to their addiction?

There is never an air of sympathy towards the people who they used to call friends. When people talk about alcoholism in schools they always show you the same pictures of the down and outs covered in their own piss and vomit; “don’t be this guy” they’d say. Walking down a street seeing the men and women all red-faced and puffy eyed is meant to make us aware of the lowest points you can reach. But what no body tells you, what they all fail to mention, is the side effects and withdrawals that these people are actually going through. They’ll mention the degenerates parents and how it makes them feel, how they no longer have any friends and that they obviously didn’t care enough. They’ll ask you or themselves what they did to deserve being treated in that way, not what the alcoholics themselves are feeling. 

There’s no compassion towards them because ‘they did this to themselves’. they chose to sit on the stoop outside Tesco with a can of white lightning at 11am on a Wednesday. But that’s not all; according to modern education and social stigmas, they also chose to wake up and have their bodies convulse uncontrollably, providing they sleep at all. If they manage to get to sleep eventually the sweats begin like a broken faucet that’ll continue through three shirts and the thickest of bedsheets. After waking up cold and wet, they’ll try to stand only to find that they have no feeling in their limbs as there whole body continues to shake, feebly hobbling towards whatever day they have planned. That’s just the beginning, then there’s the headaches, the unshakeable sick feeling, stomach cramps and in extreme cases hallucinations that make you question everything around you. That’s what happens when they don’t drink; waking up like this and knowing that it can stop or be made easier by just one drink, one tiny splash of alcohol can make things seem normal again. But they choose to do it right? They chose to live this way.
In modern TV we see day to day the hilarity that comes with alcoholics; Rick and Morty, Bender (Futurama), the likes of Homer Simpson and even characters such as Phoebe Buffay (Friends) and Kitty Forman (that 70’s show) all exhibit excess needs to drink from one time or another yet it’s seen as a joke. Now I can hear you all scream, ‘ALCOHOL IS LEGAL’ and where that may be, the addiction is still real. The addict may still map out five local shops that they can buy from, all of which they can alternate so no one judges on the frequency of purchases. The addict also knows how much every bottle costs, how much they need to borrow or how much they need to give. This addict is also aware that vodka looks like water but vodka also smells like hand sanitiser so in an office or work environment who is going to know?

I’ve done my research and I find myself bombarded with nothing but people that conclude it’s all down to the person. Addiction fits like a glove. There’s the nature versus nurture argument and there always will be. Nature is the bullet and nurture is the gun, anyone can be an addict and as such, no one should judge.

It’s never as personal as people make it, however, the friends and parents of these people, providing they had them, were never intentionally the victims of these peoples actions. It’s more of an occupational hazard that comes with the territory. It’s like smoking a cigarette after dinner and leaving your friends feeling isolated, it’s like being the designated driver and having to be a taxi for the evening or suggesting karaoke when no one can sing. As the addict, you’ll always sing, you’ll always find a way to sing wether that be through running to a friends for a glass of wine or suggesting you go to a local pub event. 

The glamorous addiction, however, allows you to keep up the facade and hide it under talent. Yes, I can drink more than you can, the secret is I need to. Yes, I’m going go out three nights in a row but I don’t feel it because addiction allows me to stay sober. The fact that it’s legal allows one to keep day drinking or to stay drunk as a matter of principle. Meanwhile those who are suffering, who can’t live without a drink, are fining it that much harder. Until it’s too late. 

People Lose Things 

People Lose Things 

People lose things, they just do. It happens throughout the day and throughout our lives without question. Whether that be our phones or wallets or sense of self, on a daily basis, people lose things. 

We’ve all felt our hearts drop when we reach for something in our pockets that isn’t there; it’s like walking up the stairs in the dark and assuming there’s an extra step. As your foot falls so does your stomach and that feeling of loss becomes all too real. It’s like crossing the street and not realising a car is speeding towards you, you stop in the headlights and you can feel your stomach somersault. When you lose it’s the same feeling. 

I’m speaking strictly material of course, but what happens when we lose something more personal? What do we do when we lose something that can’t be replaced or something that doesn’t sit in our pockets? 
People lose things but they also lose people, they lose emotion or respect or even themselves. Waking up and realising you’ve lost yourself gives you the same sense of stomach dropping, heart stopping loss that reaching for the wallet in your pocket does. In the same way reaching for someone that isn’t there any more does. 
When the day arrives that you realise a person is no longer there, you experience the same sense of loss you would have and in some ways you wish it were as easy as losing a phone. There are many factors to losing a person; they can chose to go or they can be taken. You can push them away and cause them to become lost or you yourself can just become lost in everything you were once so sure of, causing other people to lose you. All of a sudden your foot is falling through the dark again, you’re crossing the street, your heart is pounding and you’re left with the realisation that someone just isn’t there. You’ve lost them, you’ve lost it and everything. 
You reach out and they don’t acknowledge you, you fall and they don’t catch you like they used to and they definitely don’t give you the time of day. Losing people is hard but in the same way that your foot falls and reaches ground or the car doesn’t hit you, you’ll feel that sense of relief eventually. 

When you lose yourself, your motive or sense of being it can be harder to consider the reasons why you’re perhaps doing the things you are. Waking up becomes difficult and you wish that you hadn’t because being asleep is easier. When you lose yourself it isn’t as easy as reaching the ground or asking someone to help you find it, no one knows where it’s gone or where you last saw it, it’s just gone. Before you know it it’s difficult to make breakfast or to listen to music or go to work because you’ve just lost that light that everyone talks about when they meet you. 

In the same way that you find your phone after panicking or your feet finally find the ground, so can you. You can find yourself again in little things you do every. You can find yourself in the spontaneous karaoke sessions with your best friend or find yourself in a family meal. You find yourself in everyone that smiles at you whether that be a cashier or a stranger on the street. You can find yourself in the good deeds you do every day or in the family you have around you but you are there. 

By all means lose yourself, but lose yourself in a song or a conversation that you’re passionate about. Lose yourself in a musical or a film that you connect with and don’t be afraid to feel it all. Lose yourself but be ready to pick yourself straight back up and continue on. 

Doing The Right Thing 

Doing The Right Thing 

There comes a time in our lives when we’re all faced with choices. The proverbial fork in the road, two roads diverged in a yellow wood and all that. The question comes when we have to decide, do we take the road less travelled or do we simply do the right thing? Wether that be the right thing for ourselves or for the immediate world around us. I used to be with someone who would always, no matter what I was feeling, respond “just do the right thing”. I never truly understood what he meant by that, until now. I would often wonder, why can’t ‘what’s right’ be handed to me? Why should I have to figure that out for myself? But sometimes “the right thing” isn’t a simple answer, sometimes it’s already there and you just need to be brave enough to realise it. 
For example, many take New Year’s Eve with a great seriousness, and so it should be. The minute the clock strikes twelve you have an entirely new 365 days to ignore your resolutions and another 365 opportunities to do the right thing. I, like many,spent my New Years with friends in a public space where the new year could be ushered in with loud music and copious amounts of alcohol, this is not the issue. 
This particular night I was invited to a New Years event by my friend, Lilly, who had arranged a night in some night club downtown with her boyfriend and another couple and I was the fifth wheel. This didn’t bother me as anyone who knows me knows that I don’t find it difficult to speak to people nor do I find it hard to make friends. So the night draws in around seven in the evening and as I made my way to Lilly’s’ flat, vodka in hand, I prepared myself for what I thought would be a straight forward evening of laughs and drinks. I stepped off of the bus and made my way up the stairs of the dimly lit tower block in southwest London, being conscious of the neighbours, she greeted me with a hug and a kiss as friends would and we went inside to begin preparing ourselves for the night ahead. She poured me a drink and as the red cup began to fill up there was a knock at the door and she immediately went to answer it. 
Let me preface this by saying Lilly is the sort of person who’s company alone would make you smile, to this day I’m not sure how she does it. There’s a light behind her eyes, a never ending positivity that’s like that of a child’s however her sense of humour matched that of someone who’s lived many lives. She always seemed sure of herself, sure of the people around her and even if it might have been an act, it was pulled off perfectly. So you can imagine my surprise when I met him. 
When she came back, as expected I stood up and introduced myself to her boyfriend, shaking his hand, making small talk and instantly sitting back down. His name was Joe and I somehow found it difficult to talk to him. He was fairly tall, had a masculine build but looked like a miniaturised wolverine. I mentioned this as a joke and we all laughed. When the night had drawn on and we finally left the club, I couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling that something was wrong; wether it was the way he spoke or the way we couldn’t speak I was unsure. 
As I would make self depreciating joke after joke (roping Lilly and our other friends into it) I would catch his eyes, staring at me. Like I had offended him personally but oddly enough it had nothing to do with him. The clock struck 9.00pm and we made the decision to travel on to the bar in Soho, after popping a bottle of presecco needless to say we were all fairly excited. As we stepped onto the street to catch a train I lit a cigarette and continued to walk; again I caught his gaze. As Lilly and I stood on the street whilst the others went inside to get tickets she turned to me “Joe hates smoking” we laughed it off. Each to their own, I thought as I took a drag and stubbed it out. 
As the night drew on, everything was fairly normal, we danced and laughed and drank a reasonable amount. It was a night that was just for us, we were starting the year on a high. There was one moment that changed things for me. Joe and I were on the dance floor and Lilly had gone to the bathroom with our other friend. Her boyfriend shuffled towards me and I asked if he’d like another drink, he took me up on my offer and ordered his girlfriend one as well. However, when I turned to Joe to ask if he or Lilly wanted another, he snapped “no thank you, she’s had enough” and I stared silent for a moment. 
 I shook this off and just assumed he was just ‘that guy’. Moments later he started asking where Lilly was, complaining that she’d been in the bathroom for too long. Like a dog with a bone he wouldn’t let it go he just kept persisting that he was worried about her. The truth is, she’d been less than 10 minutes and I couldn’t bare the thought of someone like Lilly being under the thumb of this one person, especially on New Year’s Eve. 

At that point I started thinking about ‘the right thing’, normally I’d sit by and not say anything, perhaps allow him to continue to speak the way he did. I turned to him, softly explaining that (and I quote) “she’s a grown woman, she’s gone to the bathroom she’ll be back soon, chill out” I smiled. I remember turning away and dancing to myself. 
When she came back we continued as nothing had happened, he hadn’t let her out of his sight all night and every time he spoke to her I saw that light behind her eyes dull down. She would stop dancing or singing and even stop smiling with just one word from him. It was heartbreaking to see someone that I revered as being a positive influence to me personally be held down so easily. At that point I found a way to get us alone, this wasn’t easy as you can imagine, but it was necessary. We stood outside in the smoking area and before I could make my point he made it for me by texting her four times in less than five minutes. 
At that point the right thing presented itself to me, I knew that I had to say something, explain what I saw regardless of the outcome to our own relationship. I have no doubt that she loved Joe and I was prepared for her to tell me to piss off and that I don’t know anything but after I said it, she saw it. The right thing was right for both of us, for me to say and for her to hear. 
My point is, doing the right thing may not always be obvious at first. The right thing for Lilly since then was to break it off with Joe and move back home. She’s since started seeing someone who, from what I hear, values her happiness more than his own and I couldn’t have wanted it to end better. You’re always going to be faced with choices, if I hadn’t said anything that night she might still be in an emotionally abusive relationship but I made the choice to do what I felt was the right thing. It’s very easy to sit and say ‘nothing will change so it doesn’t matter what I do’ but until you make the change you’ll never know the outcome. 
Help the pensioner across the street, hold the bus for someone that’s running late and let someone with only one item jump ahead you at the grocery store. Check in on your mother once you’ve moved out, tell your friends your honest opinions because even if it hurts them you should have their best interests at heart and it shouldn’t matter. Give yourself time, don’t rush into things because ‘the right thing’ won’t come to you over night. Making the right choice is hard and it’s everyday but it’s worth it to just be more honest with yourself and everyone around you. 
What have you got to lose?