About 9 years ago, someone who was in my class at college said to me "Mukesh, I think what you need to do is to find yourself. You need to find yourself Mukesh." He then went on to say "I am really good at giving advice". So I asked him. "If I need to find myself, how would I go about doing it?" He replied "I don't know. Maybe go on holiday".
Thanks.
So after a lot of jobs, after meeting a lot of people-some of them amazing, some of them fucking idiots-what now? I am in the same place that I was 9 years ago when I left college. Actually, no I am not in the same place-there are a few things that are different. I am older, I have more knowledge of a lot of things including how horrible and vile people can be (even though I was bullied all the way back in school-I have discovered that there are a lot more different ways to be horrible and vile), also a knowledge that not everyone in the world is bad and that there are a few people in the world who are truly inspiring. That is always good to know. I've had lot of work experience. But apart from all that, I am in the same place. At home. With my parents but worse, in debt and also putting myself under a hell of a lot of pressure to try and do something with my life. Feeling stressed more so then I was 9 years ago. Not good.
I've been a drama student, a shop assistant, a barman, a supervisor, a receptionist, a loner, a gambler, a loser, an underachiever. So the question I find that I am constantly asking myself isn't "What am I going to do now?"
But it's "Who am I?"
65 days earlier when I lost my job, I thought it would give me some kind of opportunity to "find myself" as some idiot once told me to do. Oh but wait, I can't go on holiday as I have no money and my passport is out of date. Are there any other ways I could "find myself"? Currently, I just feel insignificant. Pointless. Someone actually asked me today "What do you do now?" Even though I have said it's not what I do but who I am that is more important, I was still a bit affected, annoyed, not happy when I had to reply "Nothing."
I've never understood the whole concept of "plodding along". People keep saying it. Why would you just want to "plod along" and not be someone in life? How can people be content with this?
I guess that a lot of people these days really don't care about that kind of stuff. As long as they don't miss their awful soaps or their terrible "reality" TV shows then they are happy. What a weird way to live life. I really hope one day soon, TV would just stop existing. For about a year at least. But saying that, recently, I am only happy when I am in a pub. With drink. With friends. Or when I am inspired to play my guitar. I guess it's each to their own. Whatever makes you happy makes you happy. Regardless of how pathetic it might seem.
At the minute, I don't know what I am going to do and I am scared that life will just pass me by and I will soon be dead. I keep thinking about the few moments before death and how disappointed I would feel with myself.
So who am I? I don't know. The search for myself continues.
Saturday 21 April 2012
Monday 9 April 2012
Nicknames
Just a quick lighthearted post before my next serious one. I'm not really used to lightheartedness but it has to be done sometimes I guess:-
I have had quite a few jobs during my life. I know that most people hate working and would love it if they won the lottery so they wouldn't have to ever work again. I wish the same. But I don't help myself in that respect by not doing the lottery. I am going to start doing the lottery.
Anyway, most people get through their working day by thinking about what they might have to come home to. A beautiful partner. Beautiful children. Saving up for a beautiful holiday. A beautiful car. A beautiful house. Currently I don't have a job and a lot of my last few wages went towards paying debt off. Still some way to go but now I have no money coming in. What to do? I will keep you posted on that in another post. Anyway, I didn't have and still don't have anything beautiful. By beautiful, I mean something that motivates me and actually makes me want to get out of bed in the morning. But back to the point-Nicknames.
The majority of people will tell you that their bosses are horrible. That they are evil, can't do their jobs properly and a lot of people also say "I could manage this place better" Could you really?
Recently, my last job, my manager was evil. She stole, treated people like crap and was the most conniving, manipulative and horrid person I have ever met in my whole life. I haven't hated anyone since when I was bullied at school. I used to call her "The Goblin" and the following is a definition from Wikipedia of what a goblin is:-
A goblin is a legendary evil or mischievous creature; a grotesquely evil or evil-like phantom.
Apart from the "legendary" bit-it is all true.
Not just managers but a lot of people I have worked with in my various jobs, I nicknamed. Just for personal amusement. It helped me get through the working day especially when I was in with people I didn't like. Here is a list in no particular order with their meanings too (I am thoughtful like that):-
The Diseased Horse (A horse with awide range of sexual transmitted infections)
Goldilocks (A male with long blonde hair)
The Chunk (Large lady pointless sweaty woman)
Semi Chunk (See above-but to a lesser extent)
The Beast Of Ancoats Moor (Another large lady-very backward)
The Sewer Rat (Dirty, horrid, vile gimp)
Mr Personality (Dingbat that had the personality of a snail)
Miss Personality (Dingbelle that had the personality of a snail)
The Loch Ness Monster (A big loud Scottish woman)
The Lard Machine (Large man who exported and distributed lard)
The Escaped Convict (Idiot who escaped from jail to work in a warehouse)
The White Witch (Conniving, deceitful and a first class fucking bitch)
The Orange Stain (A useless fake tanned idiot)
The Hooker (She also had more facial hair than me)
So there you go. It's just one of those things I do. I don't mean to give out nicknames, but the looks, actions general horribleness of some people I have had to work with makes me bring out my dis-likeness towards them in a very creative way. It's great when my other work colleagues start to refer to them by the nicknames I have given them too. That's when you know you've made it.
I have had quite a few jobs during my life. I know that most people hate working and would love it if they won the lottery so they wouldn't have to ever work again. I wish the same. But I don't help myself in that respect by not doing the lottery. I am going to start doing the lottery.
Anyway, most people get through their working day by thinking about what they might have to come home to. A beautiful partner. Beautiful children. Saving up for a beautiful holiday. A beautiful car. A beautiful house. Currently I don't have a job and a lot of my last few wages went towards paying debt off. Still some way to go but now I have no money coming in. What to do? I will keep you posted on that in another post. Anyway, I didn't have and still don't have anything beautiful. By beautiful, I mean something that motivates me and actually makes me want to get out of bed in the morning. But back to the point-Nicknames.
The majority of people will tell you that their bosses are horrible. That they are evil, can't do their jobs properly and a lot of people also say "I could manage this place better" Could you really?
Recently, my last job, my manager was evil. She stole, treated people like crap and was the most conniving, manipulative and horrid person I have ever met in my whole life. I haven't hated anyone since when I was bullied at school. I used to call her "The Goblin" and the following is a definition from Wikipedia of what a goblin is:-
A goblin is a legendary evil or mischievous creature; a grotesquely evil or evil-like phantom.
Apart from the "legendary" bit-it is all true.
Not just managers but a lot of people I have worked with in my various jobs, I nicknamed. Just for personal amusement. It helped me get through the working day especially when I was in with people I didn't like. Here is a list in no particular order with their meanings too (I am thoughtful like that):-
The Trunchbull (Very much like her from Matilda)
The Diseased Horse (A horse with awide range of sexual transmitted infections)
Goldilocks (A male with long blonde hair)
The Chunk (Large lady pointless sweaty woman)
Semi Chunk (See above-but to a lesser extent)
The Beast Of Ancoats Moor (Another large lady-very backward)
The Sewer Rat (Dirty, horrid, vile gimp)
Mr Personality (Dingbat that had the personality of a snail)
Miss Personality (Dingbelle that had the personality of a snail)
The Loch Ness Monster (A big loud Scottish woman)
The Lard Machine (Large man who exported and distributed lard)
The Escaped Convict (Idiot who escaped from jail to work in a warehouse)
The White Witch (Conniving, deceitful and a first class fucking bitch)
The Orange Stain (A useless fake tanned idiot)
The Hooker (She also had more facial hair than me)
So there you go. It's just one of those things I do. I don't mean to give out nicknames, but the looks, actions general horribleness of some people I have had to work with makes me bring out my dis-likeness towards them in a very creative way. It's great when my other work colleagues start to refer to them by the nicknames I have given them too. That's when you know you've made it.
Thursday 5 April 2012
Performing Arts-Bulldozers just don't care.
The other day I walked past the college I went to for 5 years. The reason I was there for 5 years was because I originally tried to get straight onto the music course after school and I was so bad on guitar that the guy who I auditioned to ever so politely told me that I needed to do the course below it which was a year and it was a mixture of Drama, Music and Dance and that if I passed 2 of them, I could choose which course I would do for the next 2 years. I ended up choosing Drama instead of Music after this 1st year course as the music class was full of too many guitarists and after the first year my friend told me at the time that I was "The best actor" he had ever seen. When I asked him "What, the best actor EVER?" he replied "No, the best actor in Ashton-Under-Lyne." His point being that there aren't many actors in my town and it would be a wiser choice for me to do Drama than Music and I could always play my guitar as much as I want to at home and not have to be tied down to learning particular songs for music class with about 8 different guitarists. Anyway, I then did that 2 year course on Drama and was planning on going to university for 3 years to get my degree but a HND course opened and the plan was to arrange to do that course which was also 2 years and then as arranged with the university, I could then just do one year there as a top up on my HND to get my degree. After I and a few others finished our HND course and went to university, they then told us that they stopped doing "Top up" years and that we would have to do the whole course again. This was pointless as it would be 3 years and a lot of the people who were in university classes hadn't even studied Drama before and I had for 5 years. So after staying about 3 weeks, I decided to leave. More about my life on what happened on the next blog post but back to my point on this:-
The Performing Arts building isn't there anymore. After my last year the college decided to knock it down. I knew something like this was going to happen as ever other building in the college during my time there had been renovated and when the time came for ours to be done, they said that they didn't have enough money at the time and kept putting it off. I didn't think at the time that they were planning to knock down the building, I just thought that they didn't want to give our department any funding as they might have thought we were all a bunch of mad idiots. Why would you want to give mad idiots money?
I remember my last day in the college. It was strange. Surreal. The building and everyone in it were all just really flat. We did a monthly thing called "Studio Group," where everybody if they wanted to could get up on the stage and perform whatever it was they wanted. It was a great idea as it was an opportunity to try something different. Needless to say that I hardly ever took the opportunity. I think I was too scared of what people thought of me at the time or that I simply didn't have the balls. I think the same could be said for a lot of people there. The last performance in that studio group was some horrid temporary band that played Nirvanas' "Smells like teen spirit". It was a really bad performance but everyone decided to jump up and down towards the latter part of the song anyway. After it was all over, people left the building slowly knowing that it was going to be knocked down and then that would be the end. I don't know why, but I half expected that most people would be crying or something. Because of the emotional attachment and all that crap. A few people did but nothing major. I kind of half expected for people to strap themselves to the walls and tie themselves to the railings in protest. Hopefully the brave, selfless heroic students could save the building from those horrid evil machines that were going to destroy the place that was a second home. After about 10 minutes after the last ever performance, most people were in the pub.
I remember being one of the few people left after everyone had left. A couple of tutors were in the office and I decided to take a walk through the whole of the building. It was kind of eerie walking through a empty rooms that for some reason all seemed really different as if I was entering them for the first time, but knowing that it would be for the very last time.
I wanted to start from one end of the building and walk right through. The end room was always locked anyway. The bridge room. The recording studio. The music room. The room next to the Music room which hardly anyone went in. The Dance studio. The stairs. The computer room. The room next to the computer room which was held for written work which nobody cared about doing. Past the office. The green room. Then finally the Drama studio. I kept this last on purpose. Each room had a memory. The room with nothing important in so it was never used. The room where we had that psycho teacher in for one day where the students were afraid for their lives. The room where I recorded that horrible solo album which 28 people actually bought. The room where I learnt my first song on the guitar. The room where I secretly went to when I wanted peace and quiet. The room where I discovered that I couldn't move my body in rhythm to save my life. The room where I wouldn't do any research whatsoever but would instead go onto chat rooms and email. The room where creative writing classes ended up being held and I wrote so much but I was too scared to read anything out. The room where we got ready for performances a million times and finally, the room where I discovered that I was actually good at something but for some reason just couldn't give everything I had. At best I gave 50%. I never really understood why.
I am not sure why I chose to walk through the college that day. I think after my birthday a few days before where a few people who did performing arts at my college were there must have triggered that. I actually had my name in wet cement on the side of the building that isn't there anymore.
There were no heroics by me or anyone else to try and keep the building open. At the time, nobody seemed to care too much. I do kind of wish I had done something now.
The Performing Arts building isn't there anymore. After my last year the college decided to knock it down. I knew something like this was going to happen as ever other building in the college during my time there had been renovated and when the time came for ours to be done, they said that they didn't have enough money at the time and kept putting it off. I didn't think at the time that they were planning to knock down the building, I just thought that they didn't want to give our department any funding as they might have thought we were all a bunch of mad idiots. Why would you want to give mad idiots money?
I remember my last day in the college. It was strange. Surreal. The building and everyone in it were all just really flat. We did a monthly thing called "Studio Group," where everybody if they wanted to could get up on the stage and perform whatever it was they wanted. It was a great idea as it was an opportunity to try something different. Needless to say that I hardly ever took the opportunity. I think I was too scared of what people thought of me at the time or that I simply didn't have the balls. I think the same could be said for a lot of people there. The last performance in that studio group was some horrid temporary band that played Nirvanas' "Smells like teen spirit". It was a really bad performance but everyone decided to jump up and down towards the latter part of the song anyway. After it was all over, people left the building slowly knowing that it was going to be knocked down and then that would be the end. I don't know why, but I half expected that most people would be crying or something. Because of the emotional attachment and all that crap. A few people did but nothing major. I kind of half expected for people to strap themselves to the walls and tie themselves to the railings in protest. Hopefully the brave, selfless heroic students could save the building from those horrid evil machines that were going to destroy the place that was a second home. After about 10 minutes after the last ever performance, most people were in the pub.
I remember being one of the few people left after everyone had left. A couple of tutors were in the office and I decided to take a walk through the whole of the building. It was kind of eerie walking through a empty rooms that for some reason all seemed really different as if I was entering them for the first time, but knowing that it would be for the very last time.
I wanted to start from one end of the building and walk right through. The end room was always locked anyway. The bridge room. The recording studio. The music room. The room next to the Music room which hardly anyone went in. The Dance studio. The stairs. The computer room. The room next to the computer room which was held for written work which nobody cared about doing. Past the office. The green room. Then finally the Drama studio. I kept this last on purpose. Each room had a memory. The room with nothing important in so it was never used. The room where we had that psycho teacher in for one day where the students were afraid for their lives. The room where I recorded that horrible solo album which 28 people actually bought. The room where I learnt my first song on the guitar. The room where I secretly went to when I wanted peace and quiet. The room where I discovered that I couldn't move my body in rhythm to save my life. The room where I wouldn't do any research whatsoever but would instead go onto chat rooms and email. The room where creative writing classes ended up being held and I wrote so much but I was too scared to read anything out. The room where we got ready for performances a million times and finally, the room where I discovered that I was actually good at something but for some reason just couldn't give everything I had. At best I gave 50%. I never really understood why.
I am not sure why I chose to walk through the college that day. I think after my birthday a few days before where a few people who did performing arts at my college were there must have triggered that. I actually had my name in wet cement on the side of the building that isn't there anymore.
There were no heroics by me or anyone else to try and keep the building open. At the time, nobody seemed to care too much. I do kind of wish I had done something now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)