Test of Time

I've been meaning to write this for quite a while. Over the past few weeks, I'd started writing about what was on my mind, but I could never quite do him justice. University is a test for the friendships you've built back home, and one of the regrets in my life in recent times has been the way I seem to have lost my best friend.

The last time I saw him, we sat together and talked about going back to University for our second year. It turns out he was less enthusiastic than most, and had been considering quitting. I told him that all I ever cared about, was making sure he found something in life that made him happy. If I saw him today, I'd offer him the same advice.

Last year, there was a time I was writing poems everyday for fun. However it reached stage where they were being written for the sake of being written, with little or no meaning. When it reached that point I vowed to stop, and only write when there was something I wanted to stay. Today I have something I want to say and this poem has been harder to write than any I can remember.

I really do miss him.

You’d been away from my mind for far too long.
Maybe I was hiding from all that was wrong.
I like to reflect on the best you could be.
The side that only a select few would see.

Hands of time are moving faster these days.
We left each other happy in the sweet summer haze.
Only to emerge when the leaves had turned brown.
Smiles we once shared are now lonely frowns.

Paving over cracks growing wider all the time.
Ignoring the problems was my biggest crime.
But days became weeks became half a year.
In the back of my mind there was always a fear.

Doubts crept in my head when life tore us apart.
Visions of your silence nearly broke up my heart.
I like to think we bought the best from each other.
Thicker than friends you were more like my brother.

Sorry for the months I haven’t been here to talk.
I will be proud whichever path you now walk.
Praying you respond to the texts that I send.
More than anything now, I just miss my friend.

I hope to see you soon for another cup of tea in Starbucks mate, and I hope I see you happy.

Facebook v Real Life

I would prefer to talk to you in person than over Facebook chat or text, just throwing it out there. I wish every conversation we had was to each other’s face so we could actually let people know how we actually feel.

Words are a very powerful tool. If you learn to use them well, then you can manipulate them to your advantage. They can twist, wind and weasel through any situation to leave the unsuspecting victim powerless to suspect.

You can also make any outlandish claim you over chat. Telling someone to fuck off and being racist or homophobic is a lot easier with the protective veil of the internet. They give us a platform to project and the barrier to distance themselves from their actions. It’s also a lot easier to tell someone you love them.

And of course, we must have all been in that situation where interpretation is the key. The different layers of meaning that can be attributed to one sentence can send a person into a spiral. Then what happens if someone goes to the toilet, leaving the other person wondering why they aren’t replying. Are they mad? Was it something I said? How do I repair it? It feeds paranoia.

I guess I’m writing this for myself as a kick up the backside. Turn off the Facebook once in a while and get out and see people. Talk to people, give them eye contact and say the words you feel rather than the ones which sound fancy. If I end up telling someone I love them, I want to do it with the conviction, confidence and bravery such a claim requires. I don’t want to lazily type eight letters and send a text to confirm it.

Yes, I’m probably exaggerating, but I think the point remains valid. You don’t want to be defined by how you act online or through a text, but how you come across as a real life human being. Standing out in the open to be seen for all your glory is more rewarding than hiding in the shadows.

Poorer Yet Richer

Poorer yet Richer is how I feel after this term at University. Since I went back to Eastbourne in September I’ve seen more live music than I'd ever seen before. While this has undoubtedly put strain on my bank account leaving me to face the dreaded overdraft, the memories of the past few months will stay with me for a long time.

Defining the difference between living and merely existing will have been exhausted on countless blogs. I’m going to try and resist preaching that every chance must be taken and to live life on a rollercoaster of discovery. There are wiser and far more informed people in this world who will tell you that.

Personally, I’ve lived life at both ends of the spectrum. For my first year of University I was money conscious, minimalist and living well within my means. Looking back, it speaks volumes that I was genuinely proud of coming home with plenty of money.  It was almost like I had stumbled on a great secret. In hindsight however, not doing very much so saving money isn’t ground breaking, just common sense.

During the summer, I went through the annual spring clean of my room. It suddenly dawned on me that I didn’t have any overbearing memories from my life. There were tickets from a Cricket match and a Football match I had gone to in 2003, and a name badge for my ill-fated Sports Coaching years, and that was all I had gained in memorabilia for the things I’d truly gone out and experienced. What was the point of having cash in the bank when there was nothing to show for it.

This needed to be rectified.

What followed was a summer of living with my friends back home. We drank, we talked, we explored and we took photos. After all that was done, I moved into a new house at University. Surrounded by five other amazing people, we drank, we talked, and we dressed up in funny clothes for Freshers Week.  I also saw some live music.

Shakedown Festival (Stooshe, Katy B, Professor Green etc) 

The Tallest Man on Earth

Ben Howard

Lucy Rose (picture via ontheset.com as I had lost my other camera on an eventful Halloween night)

Frank Turner

And finally....

Mumford and Sons

I can say without fear of contradiction that 2012 has been the best year of my life. I’m no longer counting money, but instead counting photos and memories of my last year and I'm a lot happier for it. Years from now, I’m going to see these photos, videos and old tickets and smile. There’ll be some stories to tell.

If I ever get round to writing my book, Poorer Yet Richer will be its title.

Post-Apocalyptic Bucket List

Apocalypse survived. Now it’s time to face the rest of my life. Admittedly I had planned for this eventuality and bought Christmas presents just in case. I had also booked my train ticket back to University in January and made plans for New Year’s Eve, so to get through this isn't a major surprise. Part of my preparation for impending doom was to skip revising for my Media Law exam in January though, so I guess that’s buggered, but at least justifiable.

I like most other rational human beings, didn't expect anything to happen today other than a few annoying Facebook statuses and an Apocalypse trend on Twitter. But the event did make me think about my life and Bucket Lists in particular. If such a disaster did suddenly get thrust upon us, what exactly would I want to have done, besides building a disaster-proof shelter in my back garden?

I want to write, first and foremost. Maybe not the precise journalistic style I’m concentrating on in my degree, but creative words, that dance around the page in delight. My life would be better spent writing about the beauty of birds than the latest burglary to hit Eastbourne. Of course we’re talking about perfect worlds here, but I’d like to think I could have a stab at achieving mine. Words have always been my friend though, ever since I penned this effort in Primary school.

(WARNING: Don’t buy these pets)

At my door there was a man, with a big black box.
He held up a snake that was biting his left ear.
He told me it was half price with a grenade throwing fox.
I said no, and told the man he had been drinking beer.

Yet another man was at the door with a dog on a lead.
It snarled its head off and bit me on the bum.
And then it dug everything up except the weeds.
Then it came back and it chewed my thumb.

Suddenly the garden shook, and the dog ran away.
A 15 tonne elephant entered the ruined garden.
Knocking down trees and demolishing sheds.
The man came and said I beg your pardon.
We finally got the elephant out of the flower beds.

I looked at the calendar and then I had to remember,
And realised that the dangerous pets’ week started in November.

Of course, rhyme and meter wasn't perfect, but then having written that aged 8 I’m not going to give myself a harsh critique. But my early experiences of writing and creating something new with words were always going to have a profound effect on my life. Somewhere in the early years of secondary school the flair became lost, and it wasn't until a GCSE Mock, where I went on some spiritual adventure writing about a dream world which released some of the ideas that had been stuck inside me. I ended up getting two A’s in English at A-Level and moved on to study Sports Journalism at University.

I’ve had to delete a lot after realising I’d moved away sharply from my main Bucket List subject from this blog piece. But anyway, below is an initial list I cooked up earlier this evening about the things I want to experience.

1.            Go to Iceland. While I’m up there try and see the Northern Lights.

2.            Learn German well enough to hold down a conversation.

3.            Publish a book.

4.            Have a New Year’s resolution and be able to stick to it.

5.            Tell a girl I love her and mean it.

6.            Have a deep and meaningful conversation with a singer.

7.            Be as good a father as my dad was to me.

8.            Visit New Zealand, maybe live there.

9.            Just for once, speak my mind and confront someone when they’re being a dick.

10.          Try a new dish every year.

11.          Make sure I have a photo of me in some form every month I’m alive.

12.          Appear on TV one day in some shape or form; preferably an episode of Pointless.

Not a huge list at the moment, but it’s a start. Some are cheesier and more achievable than others, but I think it’s important to have something in our lives to aim for. Any experience which is going to make the heart flutter or build a rush of adrenaline is vital. One day we’ll look back on the memories of these experiences and be able to tell ourselves that if we were to face an Apocalypse, we lived life alright.