It's Never The Right Time

I must not be, nor become, a, 'now is not the right time,' sort of person. I would say that 25% to 30% of my green lights have been missed as a result of such behaviour already, and that can only lead to regret, and regret is an emotion that can only lead to further green lights being missed. I would say fucking go for it, even if you don't feel like it.

Over Socialised

Every time I am to enter into any social occasion, it is with a degree of apprehension and nervousness that I do so. The less I know those within the situation, the less my nervousness and apprehension. The latter observation is unusual; most people I know would suggest the opposite, which is what drove me towards questioning my behaviour. With Freudian method, looking back at my childhood and early adulthood, my parents regularly held large social gatherings which in hindsight slapped with presenting as social climbing and status maintenance, effectively presenting appearances and keeping up those appearances. I was often called upon to essentially network with what were supposed to be my parents longstanding and good friends, which I’m sure many of them were and still are. It’s just that many of them, I was regularly reminded, were also potential employers. The problem was that there would always be a degree of expectation, to be polite, to be achieving, and to almost sell oneself. It was like talking shop with the movers and shakers before even having set up a shop whatsoever. It was if that all these people had to talk about with me was my exams and career prospects, maybe they thought this was expected of them in the same way I thought a formal and well structured spewl in response was of me. I dreaded these situations and have been rebelling ever since. I now get too drunk in social situations and tend to try to make the conversation either shock or take on an unorthodox slant. I generally take things a little too far. My view is that this is a form of coping mechanism that I have subconsciously developed for social gatherings, which, as a result of my later childhood years continue to make me nervous. Although you are still being judged in social situations where you don’t know anybody, for me, I feel less under pressure to impress and am therefore more likely to do so. Possibly because any impression is likely to fizzle out and be forgotten by a person I do not know and am unlikely to see ever again, and whom bears no link with anybody I do know. In short, it may be that I have been ‘over socialised,’ one thing I do know is that as an adult I try not to talk of career prospects with youngsters if I can help it, although I must admit, it does appear to be the most obvious topic between a slightly older child and an adult of no relation, there is often very little other common ground. The difference I suppose is that I am no employer, and they know it.

Nostalgic Anticipation

Hovering outside the Night and Day, and the day is holding on for longer, the warmer half-light left, lingers still, fighting off the dusk. The air has taken on a scent once again; there is sweetness even in the blackened Northern Quarter, as though the plumes of Peak District pollen have stooped in the afternoon and onto Piccadilly. Nostalgic anticipation and excitement for lighter night’s sweeps across my sky blue mind like wisps of summer cloud and the sound of light aircraft overhead. I am waiting for Rich to join me for an after work beer, the first of the year, and my senses transport me as he runs late. First, to childhood, and of a smashed lollypop on a neighbour’s hot door, the ginger cat and the orphaned robins, allotments and a red toy car thrown in rivers, then, the angst of goading sunlight through bedtime curtains. To flattened nettles, apple fights and trees, the meadow and the madness of its gypsy horse, to the dens and the gangs, and chippy teas. Next, to early adulthood, and the electricity that charged explorations into the realms of the night out. Entering the buzz of busy pubs, over the lip of open doors to meet friends before the summer’s sun sets, and the nervous anticipation of meeting someone you fancied, and yet willing it so, with all of the will in the world. Then, onto to the clubs that were an extension of sixth form, the short skirts lined up and queuing around blocks. Eventually, to the bigger cities for a taste of independence, and for more of the same - right up until Rich tapped me on the shoulder. Like a near death experience the best bits had raced before my mind’s eye, the present hint of seasonal change triggering nostalgia for the past such seasons, looking forward now with excitement for what was to come around again.