Monthly Archives: May 2013


Here are a list of things that make today my favourite day to list things that are great today;

1) My phone autocorrect attempted to change the word ‘great’ to ‘breast’. This means the above sentence would end: “…that are breast today.”

2) It’s Friday.

3) One of the hottest days of the year thus far. See above pic.

4) In reference to above, I’m tanned. This makes potential flirtees more likely to enlist me as their very own flirtee.

5) I’m 100 percenting my online teaching course.

6) My dog yawned and howled ‘hello’. Honest.

7) I won a competition to have my tuition fees paid on an advanced TEFL course. I’ve been awaiting the result since my interview on Tuesday. I doubted myself, which is the result of many a job rejection and flailing confidence. This course is my window of opportunity to earn good money and see the world along the way. I’m very much in a bubble of sweaty joy.

8) Above means cause for celebration. Hello weekend!



Going to start posting photos since I’ve linked my phone to a WordPress app. The wonders of modernity, eh? Booyah!

Sometimes, reading through the blogs I’ve chosen to follow realigns my thoughts to positivity. I’m naturally positive, but even in the lowest of thoughts there’s always something to inspire you out of that ‘phase’. I see progression, I see little steps happening, I feel myself changing, I love this year. Today, I went for an interview at a college for an intense four week TEFL course – which is a course that loads you with the ability to teach English to foreign students. I’m currently doing an online course, but it isn’t accredited by the British Council so the jobs following it are limited. This new course was actually a competition entry of mine, so that the tuition fees are paid for, which at the moment, is the only way I can afford to do it. I’m utterly grateful that this opportunity landed in my path and it seems that since I’ve focused this year on what I want, the pages of my book unravel toward a goal I can see. As much as I love this country, I’m ready to take on the world. This course, if I do so happen to have passed the interview today, is a gateway to the world. I’ve been asking for this since I’ve changed my perspective and health in January, and it seems, fingers crossed, that I’m creating my future again. It’s been a while since I’ve had control of my ambitions and I don’t know.. it just feels good inside. I’ll await the email this afternoon, and if all’s well, the course will commence on June 24th. 


Prior to these couple of weeks, I attended a cousin’s baby shower. It was my first. The thing I take note of is the absolutely natural beauty that is a pregnant woman. Sure, the bending down to pick things up may be a little ungraceful (I did laugh a couple times to myself), but it’s just so beautiful. I felt like an onlooker to the perfect family; it swirled desire within my guy, temporary as it may be, it was the first ever time I can recall that I’ve imagined having a baby. And on that note, I’ll stop! AH!

I love a good rave.

For some people, going out at the weekend to your local clubbing institution is but a chance to declare their masculinity through shotting whatever the fuck is going for a British pound, or for some it’s a chance to strut the new heels while eyeing up guys and dancing provocatively, with some hope that somebody will take notice and stroke that ego like it’s a purring feline.

For thousands of others, clubbing is a way of life. Yeah, it sounds pretty cheesy, but there’s no other way about it. The whole episode of going out is a pleasant ordeal, one that takes planning and organising. First, which dj are we going to see? Then, what drugs is everybody taking, and am I getting the order in? Also, where is the pre and post party at? It’s a night of adventure, of succumbing to musical needs and probably most importantly, it’s a release from the menial and typically hard working week that people endure to pay their bills and subsequently piss the rest up on said raves and occasional holidays.

See, it’s a lifestyle. It’s more than going out to pull and showcase the penis in a glorified effort of primitiveness. Sure, that may happen, but it isn’t the reason for going out. Music, you see, is the glue that holds any set of raving friends together.

“What a fucking tune, mate!” is but one repeated exclamation, week in, week out. As the drugs take hold, the body somehow manages to become one with the music; the impulses, the waves of sound permeate the skin and returns us to the connection we all had before the star burst in to a big fucking mess that we have become today. It’s in these moments where we’re reminded that everything is connected.

Drugs. Narcs. As much as I oppose promotion of such cell destroying bundles of joy, they create a little honeymoon for a night. Everything seems clear, everybody is joined, empathy is easily and quite naturally achieved and EVERYBODY is your friend.

I’ve pretty much raved my way through my teens right the way up to the present day. I’m taking note of the exceptionally amazing times I’ve had with my friends, whatever social circle I’ve been in at the time, it’s been one of adventure, exploration and a shit load of dancing. Nothing is more free than being with people that love you and dancing in unison. In that moment, in that spectre of light, in that flash of genius, everything is absolutely fucking brilliant.

“I have to celebrate you baby, I have to praise you like I should.”

“Your future’s abroad,” she stated, after hearing for the gazillionth time my ever ambitious but ill achieved goals.

This made me chuckle and ponder as to why she said that. Does she truly believe that my life will begin (again) as soon as I leave? There’s a part of her that’ll be sad if I go, much like when my brother left a couple of weeks ago to start a job abroad. I’m starting to realise and succumb to certain fears of life, not the silly type of fears associated to eight-legged creatures, but that of being an old man and looking back on What Could Have Been. It’s a difficult notion leaving the prowess that is my mother; a singular entity wholly misunderstood by peers of blood who should be accepting. Sometimes, it feels as though I’m the only one to understand her, largely due to the fact that I feel or position myself as a bit of an outcast too. Somebody a little wild, a step away from what’s deemed ordinary.

This year feels so good, feels like a step forward, which is in complete contrast to last year and the self-destruction of which I put off stopping until tomorrow.

Yeah, the future seems bright. I have a chance to make myself and my mother proud, the latter of which is an achievable dream and on that’ll make life’s progression that little bit more white.

Be content with what you have;
rejoice in the way things are.
When you realise there is nothing lacking,
the world belongs to you.

~ Lao Tzu.



He seems, Lao Tzu, like the man I want to become. Somewhere simple and harmonious. For him to reach that state and to know such life ailments, he must have had to go through some battles first. Simplicity is key. As I regain some form of normalcy in the mind after absolutely obliterating any natural serotonin levels, I feel things around me as poignant reminders of who I am and what I want.

Society doesn’t much help or care for people who seek or desire inner peace. In fact, modern society does everything it can to halt such beauty. But daily reminders are what help to realign the tormented mind.

Changes are good. Changes in what I want to do can be confusing but with Tzu’s advice, I’ll let such conflicts flow through me until there resides an answer.

I want to know what these songs feel like again. It feels as though an adventure will bring to life the dull and foretold predictive memories. Memories that have yet to happen, just brisk flocks of light, flashing a moment of sepia brilliance. To live by such untold loneliness is something I expect to be shared between most souls on this Earth. I feel the tragedy of my mother’s life, small but significantly debilitating occurrences blight her slowed pace. Tiny movements of age are making her succumb and I notice her soul grow tired; it shows in her eyes. I’m humbled and ashamed in the presence of my current self who seeks a way to fill her life with some form of joy, some fresh and happy memories, but still she struggles on. I battle with my lack of ambition, or moreso the ability in implementing such ambition. This weekend, I attended a baby shower. My cousin will give birth in a few weeks and to witness the perfection of her and her family’s ascension was awe-inspiring. I observed like a stranger through a window what life if typically like, that of family and security and a natural (by society’s means) ticking off of life steps. It was a beautiful and wondrous thing to observe though for me, and for me personally, it was dulled by a sad ache. Perhaps it stems back to my mother, as most things I do in life do. I want her to have something to make life exciting again, and that would be an extension to our family. Last month, an incident occurred. There fell some tears from her wise eyes. There’s a part of her that’s broken, be it from her father’s utter disregard for the things she wanted to achieve or my father’s unsuccessful attempt to nurture such innate intelligence. She is the emblem of things that can go wrong and that tears me up.

Perhaps my attempts in planning an escape aren’t actually helping towards a common goal. A goal of which I’m sure I continue to sparsely remind myself of, to help my mother. I don’t know how, but I just feel it in my gut. For me, this is how emotion works. Sometimes I can walk in to a room and be smothered by spilled and lingering emotion in the air as it crashes over and through me, permeable the semi-naked mask I prolong to the public. Sometimes the weight of others’ emotion makes my feet heavier, my shoulders want to partner up with my ankles, and I sup it in like second hand smoke.

Things are changing and the couple of weekend’s of celebration have definitely took their toll on my emotions. This year is shaping up to be a good one. I just want more to be proud of myself for and in turn to see pride on my mother’s face would be something I haven’t helped her achieve for a very long time.