Bohemian Ramblings

2:04am: Obese expenditure
I have a theory. But first, some background.

Losing weight is simple. Consume less calories than you burn, and you lose weight. Consume more than you burn, you gain weight. Trouble is, there are many people who are demonstrably overweight who say they eat very little. They tend to blame a slow metabolism.

What is actually going on is that these people are eating *way* more than they think they are. Snacks are getting overlooked. Portion size is underestimated. Overall calorie intake is massively miscalculated. They claim 2000 cal/day, but consume 3500.

My theory is this - a similar thing is happening with people who claim poverty while having a semi-decent job.

I know dozens of such people - individuals who earn somewhere around the 20k mark, yet still claim poverty. My theory is that these people are spending money in the same way that fat people are consuming calories. Every day they buy bits and pieces they don't need. Snacks, the odd drink, a taxi fare, a quid or two for charity. In their head this doesn't count as spending money, in the same way that a fat person doesn't count a birthday doughnut as food. They are slowly haemorrhaging cash without even being aware of it. They could spend fifty quid in a day, and have no recollection of when or why. A bottle of wine, a TV dinner, a rented DVD, that's £15. A bought lunch, transport to and from work, a newspaper and magazine, that could be £20. Over a month, that's £700 they probably have no recollection of spending.

On TV diet programmes, they get fat people to record their intake of food. They then compare that record to a urine sample that proves what they have *actually* consumed. I think it would be useful for all the faux-poor people to undertake something similar.

At the end of the day, make a record of every penny you have spent. Then, at the end of the month check your bank statement. Hopefully then you will realise that you are spending vast amounts of money that you don't need to spend, and that you aren't even aware you are spending.

Fat people do *not* have slow metabolisms. They eat too much.

You do *not* have monetary problems. You spend too much.

12:25pm: Why I won't be voting
I will not be voting in the Local/EU elections, and I shall tell you why.

But first, imagine this scenario:
You and a bunch of mates are deciding where to go on a Saturday night for a drink and a dance, and it comes down to a choice of three (and only three) places. It gets put to a vote. Only trouble is, you know that Place A has lost its entertainments licence, Place B always has big fights on Saturdays, and Place C's dress code is so strict you won't all get in. All the choices are bad, but you have to vote.

I maintain that in this situation, the correct thing to do is abstain. If you vote for (for example) Place B it lends it a legitimacy. It suggests you approve of it. When it all goes tits up (as you know it will), you will share in the blame, because you voted for it.

I often have people maintain that because I do not vote, I do not have a right to complain. This is false. If I vote for Labour, and Labour get in and fuck things up, *then* I have no right to complain. I voted Labour, I got Labour, Labour fucked up, it's my own stupid fault for voting for them. If I had instead voted Conservative, it gives me no more right to complain. At best it gives me the right to say "I told you so", but even that's pretty naive. After all, if the Conservatives had got in, they would no doubt have fucked things up as well, just in a slightly different way.

The whole point of a voting system is that everyone gets to express their beliefs and opinions. I *choose* not to vote. This is the best way of expressing my beliefs and opinions. To vote for any of the parties would be a distortion of my beliefs. I would in effect be lying. To attempt to bully me into voting is, in effect, an attempt to distort the democratic process.

The BNP Question:
Something I've noticed about democracy is that it is only a good thing while the agreeable parties keep winning. The USA was all for democracy in Palestine, up until a free and fair democratic election saw a party voted into power that they didn't like (i.e. Hammas).

We're seeing something similar with the BNP. The BNP is an objectionable party - I am not here to dispute that. However, Britain is a country of xenophobes. If 10% of Britons are actively xenophobic, then it is appropriate and correct that 10% of seats go to the BNP. That is the *whole point* of democracy.

I have no time for the BNP (or UKIP), but they're unlikely to get enough power to cause much trouble, so I'll just ignore them. Labour and the Conservatives represent far more of a threat, because they're much more likely to be able to do real damage.

Let me summarise it thus:
If avoidable I will not facilitate something that I believe will cause real harm
I think *all* the political parties will cause real harm if given enough power
My vote contributes to their power
Therefore I will not vote

6:33pm: Brand feeback
I have an integrated digital TV. It's OK, but does have an annoying habit of spontaneously detuning every few weeks when the channels decide to reorganise themselves. This last reorganisation was a biggy. I lost E4+1 and Dave, but gained Film4, and two music channels.

So I've been watching music videos for the first time in a while, and I have noticed something.

Music videos are now indistinguishable from adverts

You watch any advert - especially for 'brand' products (i.e. any product whose sole reason for purchase is its brandname) - and it will be 30 seconds of beautiful people in various stages of foreplay, with maybe a single shot of the product in question.

Compare to a music video, which again is almost entirely beautiful people in various stages of foreplay, but will almost invariably have a shot of some brandname item that has been product-placed.

Here's a challenge: Watch some contemporary music videos (those of you who even know what contemporary music sounds like) and play "Spot the product placement". In the UK, product placement is more regulated than the US, so some of the more blatant ones may be pixelated out, but that still counts as a spot.

This alarms me, but perhaps not for the reasons you'd think. Yes, I am offended that advertisers can be that cynical, and offended that popstars can allow themselves to be whored out to that degree. But I know that teenagers (the target audience) often really are so gullible that they will gleefully fall for such trickery - even if they know it's trickery. I also know that a sizeable amount of a popstars income is derived from advertising deals (this is even more true of sportstars, whose income is almost entirely derived from whoring themselves out to advertisers)

No, the thing that alarms me is the feeling that there is an increasing lack of actual 'product' out there. Everything is an advert. Popstars are just brands. Singles and videos are adverts for the brand. Brands are advertising brands. There's his horrible feedback loop going on where iPhones are considered cool because they feature in Rihanna's videos, and Rihanna is considered cool because she has the latest iPhone in her video, without anyone stopping to ask if either brand is actually worth a damn compared to the alternatives.

Meh! I still quite fancy an iPhone. And indeed Rihanna. Maybe I am no better than a teenager...

9:16pm: Engagement Contagion
I have noticed a certain viral behaviour to the spate of people getting engaged of late - of which there have been many.

If Couple A get engaged they are lavished with fuss and congratulations. This leads me to my first point: What is it about getting engaged that warrants congratulation? It is simply a question of timing. If two people are a couple at such a time when they both want to get engaged (which is not the same as wanting to get married) they will get engaged. It's not about meeting The One. It's about meeting any random idiot at The Right Time.

But anyway...

Couple A get engaged. Couple B see the fuss and congratulations lavished upon them. They start craving that fuss. Those around them (family generally) start dropping crude leaden hints. "Couple A have got engaged. How long until you do?". There's talk of weddings. All the attention is on them, apart from the repeated insinuations. You feel you're missing out. You're made to feel lesser, inadequate, like there's a boat and you're missing it. They can do it, why can't you? They were brave, they have accomplished something, they're fulfilled, they've succeeded, etc etc. You're left feeling distinctly in the shadow, as if you are letting people down, or you're not trying hard enough, or you're just slacking and being lazy by not getting engaged.

And so Couple B get engaged. Not because they want to, not even because the timing is fortuitous, but simply because Couple A got engaged.

Of course this then puts all the more pressure on Couple C. And so, after weeks of unsubtle hints from their family, they too get engaged. Which in turn puts pressure of Couple D.

And so the cycle continues.

I have never believed that anyone has ever got married for the right reasons. I've known many people who've wanted to get married, but what's important is that they have wanted to get married. Not "they wanted to meet someone perfect for them" but "they wanted to get married". In other words, the person they marry is irrelevant. They want to marry someone, anyone. Anybody who will say yes.

I would wager that of all the people who get married, 99% of them were pressured into it, and just married the first person who felt them same pressure at the same time.

And that's glossing over the even greater number of people who merely "get engaged", and then find themselves trapped into going through with something they had never intended.

A final observation, empirical and anecdotal though it may be.

In these last 20 years of my life, I have seen many, many people of my generation get engaged and/or married. The rule I have observed is this:

Anybody who gets married before the age of 25 will also be divorced before the age of 25

For those of you reading this who have or are considering getting engaged, ask yourself what makes you so special as to be the exception. And once you've answered that, ask yourself why you're so different from all those other people who gave the exact same answer.

5:38pm: It had to end, but not like this.
I've never stormed out of a job before. I've quit many jobs, but I've always given proper notice, documented everything that my successor was likely to need to know, and left on terms as good as I could manage.

This time it was different.

Everyone who has every worked in an office (or indeed, everyone who has ever worked at all) knows the phenomena of the project manager who thinks they know more than they actually do. You're the person with the skills, knowledge and experience to be actually doing the job, yet they think they can over-ride your judgement simply because they have the word "manager" in their job title.

I am an egotistical man. This is no secret. But I am comfortable enough in my superiority that I feel no need to prove it. I tend to be quite patient with those less clever than me. I will even - for a while - be patient with those who think they know better than me. After all, if they don't know me very well they won't yet have come to realise that I am always right. That's fair enough.

It really becomes a problem if someone starts insisting things are done their way whether or not they are right.

Yesterday morning I was summoned to a 1-to-1 with Theresa the Project Manager. I knew what it was about. The day before, I had shot down her version-control methodology with extreme prejudice. I admit that I was not elegant in my approach, but this was the culmination of months of increasing frustration around having to argue technicalities with someone who had no technical knowledge.

I knew it was a bad sign when I realised the 1-to-1 was to be held in room 3a - The Firing Room. It's a tiny broom-closet of a meeting room, barely big enough for a table and two chairs.

She initially tried to frame it as a reconciliation; a "can we find a way to work together". However, within two sentences it became obvious that "working together" meant "I do everything she says without question". In fact, here are some direct and word-for word (as best as I can recall) quotes:-

Me: So, when you say "working together" you actually mean I do whatever you say?
Her: When it comes to the data management, yes.
Me: But your methodology is wrong. I know this. I have years of experience in this kind of thing
Her: I'm not debating this with you
Me: If I could prove that you were wrong, would you still insist I did it your way?
Her: Yes
Me: Well I can't work under those conditions.

And thus within the time it took to sort out some paperwork, do a very cursory handover, and say a load of goodbyes, I was gone.

Not the way I wanted it to end.

3:27pm: Yet another work blog
So it's March. I am - in theory - two thirds of the way through this six month contract, and I am increasingly looking forward to it being over.

Now don't get me wrong - I don't hate my job. It has its highs and lows certainly. Things are pretty busy at the moment. There's lots to do, and most of my time is spent trying to figure out how to do it (or, on occasion, if it's even possible to do it). This is what I like. I like learning new things, exploring new systems. I like not knowing something, and a day later being expert enough to teach other people. I like the feeling of breakthrough the first time you try something and it does exactly what you want, and for the reasons you expect.

Of course, it's not all sunny. Rule One of a successful IT project is to have a coherent plan, and to stick to it. This rule has been violated on the level of a war crime. The plan changes on a daily basis, and the project manager is not nearly as competent as everyone seems to think. This so-called "Agile Methodology" appears to mean no more than "Making it up as you go".

She is a case study in the dangers of a little knowledge. She has some surface understanding of the technologies involved, but doesn't have the deep understanding required to adapt to circumstances. So she'll try and force the project to take the same form as previous projects she's worked on, whether or not it's relevant or appropriate.

But the worst thing is not the job itself. It's the fact that I have a job at all. It's currently Sunday afternoon, and my brain is frazzled beyond use. After a week of busy days and too-short nights, come the weekend I am no use to anybody. I can generally manage going out and getting drunk, but I haven't done anything truly useful since I started this job, and I know I won't until it's over.

11:32am: 25 Facts
I've resisted this long enough, but this is me caving to peer pressure.

Right, you must know the rules by now. I write 25 facts. I tag 25 people. If you're tagged, it's your turn.

1. I had a road-to-Damascus moment while looking at a piece of art called "Peer Pressure", after which I finally understood what art was
   
2. I have a crush on YouTube starlet katers17 (http://uk.youtube.com/katers17)
   
3. I'm fairly sure I'm not an alcoholic, but I'm very aware that I might be wrong
   
4. It's been years since I met anyone better at my job than me, which is a bit rubbish as my job is not nearly as hard as they'd have you believe
   
5. I have learnt to speak eight foreign languages (french, german, spanish, italian, dutch, russian, japanese, ancient greek) and forgotten them all once I got bored
   
6. I really, really, properly hate the following things:-
   
   
   • Christians
     
   • Americans
     
   • Politicians
     
   • The assumption that everyone wants a relationship
     
   • Fussy eaters


7. Since leaving home the furthest I've travelled is Edinburgh. I know this is a bit shit
   
8. I treat every individual on their own merits, regardless of race, sex, age or their relationship to me. I am tired of explaining how this applies equally to my parents.
   
9. Last year I featured briefly on a BBC3 documentary about an Internet Zombie Movie (http://www.bbc.co.uk/zombies)
   
10. Unless it's proper important, I am almost invariably five minutes late
    
11. I have no tattoos or piercings. I have no particular fear of pain, but I fear being unable to change something I regret
    
12. The only time I have ever truly felt a connection with my mum was a few nights ago in a dream. She (in my dream) had taken up guinea pig breeding because it was the only way she could really feel fulfilled as a mother
    
13. I would rather lose well than win easily
    
14. I think that unconditional love is unspeakably insulting
    
15. A couple of years ago I dislocated my shoulder in a cycling accident and spent a month with my arm in a sling. I couldn't be arsed to tell my parents, and they still don't know
    
16. I have gradings in five different martial arts (judo, karate, kung fu, ninjutsu, aikido)
    
17. There have been very few people I truly trusted. Every time, it ended badly.
    
18. I have two BSc's and a BA, and an IQ of 156
    
19. I love cheese. I may be a borderline alcoholic, but I find it harder to give up cheese.
    
20. At college I learnt scuba diving. At university I learnt hang gliding
    
21. My greatest fear - above pain or poverty or death - is that I am deceiving myself
    
22. I have twice been in serious fights, both times because I defended a friend.
    
23. The last time I cried was while watching Dark Angel on an MDMA come-down. I don't think I have ever cried while sober
    
24. After five years I still cannot play the guitar. It's possibly the only thing I have failed to master
    
25. I have never taken a day off sick. In fact, since junior school I have only once caught anything more serious than a cold, and only once been on the business end of a hospital.
    
26. (bonus fact) I used to ride a motorbike
    

12:17am: Unrelated Shakespeare rant
...and another thing...

I find myself watching "10 things I hate about you" - a very liberal remake of Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew" set in a US high school.

Now, obviously everyone keeps raving about Shakespeare, and by and large it's wannabe intellectuals trying to ride on his coat-tails. You see it all the time at Radiohead gigs - where people with no talent try to cheer louder than everyone else to make it look as if they understand art.

But I think it's only when Shakespeare is so radically modernised that you start to see the truth beneath the pretension. Even if you change all the dialogue - and I mean every single word is replaced - you are still left with a plot that is striking and relevant, multi-faceted and complex. But on top of that, even when you strip out the 30% that is incomprehensible, the 30% that is irrelevant in-jokes from 400 years back, and take the remaining 40% and translate it into some Californian approximation of English, you are still left with something with more punch, more dynamism, and more depth than anything that Hollywood has ever produced.

He may be a dead white guy, but he knew his shit.

8:04pm: Rants about truth and lies
I'm a pretty calm sort of guy. It's not that I don't let things get to me, it's more that things have so far to travel that very few things go the distance.

My natural state is one of curious detachment. I am interested in the world, as one is interested in a thing one observes but has no investment in.

There are pros and cons to this state of affairs, and curiously they are the same. Few things stir me, and those that do never stir me for long.

Earlier this evening I was incandescent with rage. Israel has been throwing barely-legal WMD at civilians. Channel 4 News had an extensive and unequivocal report detailing the evidence of the extensive atrocities caused. They then had some Israeli spin merchant claiming that all these people with phosphorous burns and flechettes embedded in their spines were lying about the cause.

The fact that some politician could sit there and blatantly lie, blatantly slander victims of his own crimes, and blatantly try to excuse his country for committing acts more wantonly barbaric than the Nazis ever managed, filled me with a rage and disgust so profound it affected everything I watched subsequently.

Some filthy politician (I forget who - they're all just shit-eating whores who'll bathe in diarrhoea and claim it's ass' milk when it's really arse's milk) was spinning some regurgitated half-digested knob-cheese and trying to claim it's edam. I can't even remember what she (or maybe he - the men are so effeminate and the women so ugly it's hard to keep track) was talking about. I was so utterly consumed by the desire to murder every single politician in this and every other country, that I couldn't think straight.

Worse still, some police spokesman then appeared (so it was probably about knife crime, so it was probably Hazel Blear).

Now I have time for the police. It's a thankless task, and I wouldn't do it. You're trying to make a difference, while being arse-raped from all directions. However, to try and minimise the anal insertions they are forced to employ PR whores, who are just politicians in uniform. Faced with reports saying knife crime has doubled, they put up some truth-molesting fact pervert who'll claim that black is merely dark grey, which is after all only dark white, so really black is white.

Everything we see, we hear, we learn, is corrupted by the spin of politicians. All facts, all truth, all information, is processed through this machine of PR and marketing, to be transformed into palatabley banal soundbites that appeal to the tabloid readers. In such a world of spin and counter-spin, lies, half-truths, fabrications and falsehood how am I to know if what I believe is true.

Democracy sucks. Huge amounts of time, effort and money are wasted on putting poeple in power who will lie to us. The person who lies most convincingly reassures the quaking cowards of middle England, and drags himself and his Simon-says golems into government.

But of all this, of all these things, the thing that makes me more angry than anything else, is that give me an hour and my rage will subside. Right here, right now, I am angry enough to instigate a coup d'etat. Gimme a gin and tonic, and I'll be merely miffed.

Which makes me as much as part of the problem as those who I hate

9:10pm: Dangerous questions
Why do our politicians insist on protecting Israel, when it is so obviously The Bad Guy?

I kinda know why American politicians do it. For some reason (that escapes me) the American Christian fundamentalists have decided that Israel is important to their interests. The Christians are a powerful political force, and thus all American politicians must toe the line if they hope to get elected.

It's not unlike how British politicians must denounce drug-taking. The truth or merit of their argument is irrelevant. They have to denounce drug-taking, or the Daily Mail readers will be up in indignant arms.

Politicians have to lie, because people do not like hearing the truth. I get this. This is why I despise politicians and have long since abandoned democracy as an ideal. The thing I don't get is why they have to lie about Israel.

Israel is quite clearly a monstrous, brutal country. It is unusual in that, unlike most other brutal regimes (Zimbabwe, Somalia, North Korea, take your pick) it doesn't brutalise its own people. Instead it annexes its neighbours and brutalises them.

Said neighbours, quite understandably, are unhappy about this and want to fight back. Their resource are limited, so in a long and noble tradition of oppressed populations fighting against tyrannical occupiers (q.v. the French Resistance in WW2 for instance) they resort to guerilla tactics.

Now the thing with guerilla tactics is that they are indistinguishable from terrorism. In fact, it is a truism that has recently been forgotten that the only difference between a terrorist and a freedom fighter is point-of-view.

Which brings me to a dangerous question - a question I am not sure it is wise to ask. In these modern times, we do not have freedom of speech. Anti-terrorist legislation is so draconian that I could be arrested and jailed - possibly without trial - just for suggesting this question should be asked. The question is:

What if the terrorists are right?

Israel - it is well documented - is responsible for many thousands of deaths. Often these take the form of the most brutal massacres imaginable of refugees, Red Cross doctors, peace activists, or clearly labelled journalists for example. The Palestinian "terrorists" are responsible for dozens. Granted, deaths caused by suicide bombs and rocket attacks are entirely indiscriminate, so of those deaths the majority (the entirety even) will be innocents. Israeli sympathisers might claim that their army are targeting terrorists, and innocent casualties are an unfortunate consequence, but let me refer you again to the numbers.

Israel are destroying apartment blocks in order to target a single flat. They are levelling mosques during evening prayers in order to catch a few militants. They are bombing hospitals because there might be tunnels underneath. They try to blame Hammas, saying "If they didn't build tunnels under the hospitals we wouldn't have to bomb them". That's kinda like saying "We had to nuke Southampton because some guy in Bitterne wrote a blog we didn't like". Even if I was firing the rockets myself, that would not justify killing my neighbours, and my friends, and my family, and that guy who read my journal.

I genuinely believe that the threat of terrorism against Britain could be eliminated overnight. It would just require the establishment uniting to condemn Israel as the evil it is.

So why do they not?

10:50pm: So this is New year, and what have you done...
So, 2009 eh? Well 2008 was pretty much a dead-loss, so let's see how we do with this one.

Now don't get me wrong. There were some definite highlights. Valentine's Day Bingo. Edinburgh. These are memories that will stay with me. And by and large nothing particularly bad happened. But for me 2008 will always be the year I lost my mojo.

It's too early by far to say whether 2009 will be the year I recapture what once was mine, but there are a few promising signs. These last weeks I've met some people who have reminded me that there are interesting folks out there - people I think about after they've gone; people I want to talk about to other people (even if discretion prevents me). I've rediscovered literature after years of living on the internet. I've felt the stirrings of creativity - not yet the critical mass of angst, rage and horniness that produces my best work, but enough to reassure me that the relevant pathways are at least intact.

My job is going so well I'm beginning to think it's some sort of elaborate practical joke. My boss has started referring to me as a Line Manager. A manager! How the hell did that happen? I came in to build a website, and all of a sudden I'm in charge of recruiting a team and telling them what to do. Weirder than that, I'm responsible for telling the wannabe web manager (who I recruited) how to manage me. I am managing my own manager. By the time this contract is over, my CV is going to be gold dust. My summer is going to be spent fighting off job offers.

I was having a conversation with a friend yesterday about luck. She was recounting how people had been telling her "Oh, you're so lucky" and she observed that the harder she worked, the luckier she became. She's right. Luck is, by definition, probability. Probability, again by definition, averages out in the long term. Ignoring the room-occupying-elephant that is accident of birth, we are by and large all equally lucky.

However, there are times when I wonder if I am getting more than my fair share. While I absolutely genuinely believe that we are all born equal (within a statistical distribution) it's hard to ignore the fact that I have lucked out. I have no more skills than anyone else, and I have no fewer faults, but by sheer luck the skills I happen to have are exceptionally useful in the time and place I find myself. I am an excellent web/database programmer in a time when web/database programming is very much the place to be. It wasn't hard work that did that.

Compare, for example, to my sister, who I again genuinely believe is my equal, but who has a rather different skill set. She qualifies as an architectural technician (I think - the person who turns architect's sketches into technically correct blueprints that the builders use?) the very same year the building of buildings industry collapses. However you look at it, that's just bad luck.

But then again, luck is what you make of it. Do I consider myself lucky? Yes and no, but not really. I look at other people and I think they are luckier than me, even while I suspect the same people are looking at me and thinking the same.

So where does this leave 2009? I guess all I'm saying is that this year will present opportunities and obstacles, just like every other year, but so far I've seen more of the former than the latter, which I guess is a good start, and as good as one can hope for.

6:25pm: Good things & Bad things
Not so much a post as a list

• Good : 8 nights out in the last ten. I rock!
• Bad : Hallucinating at work through lack of sleep
• Good : A fresh bottle of pep-pills arrived today. Woo-hoo!

• Good : My gas bill came through today, and I have the moral high ground of being in credit
• Bad : It was an estimate, and they estimated too low.

• Good : Met a girl cute enough to motivate me, who is not nuts
• BadGood : She's not straight, so I am in the curious situation of competing for her attention with my gay best friend.
Actually, that's funny enough that it should be a "Good"

On a related note, I seem to be spending may too much time hanging out with girls who like girls. It's started to mess with my head. I was watching some lesbian gothic drama last night, and more than once I've come within a whisker of downloading episodes of The L Word. I would have got "Fingersmith" out from the library but (luckily?) Southampton library cards don't cover Eastleigh.

I think I need to drink some Stella and go and watch some rugby, just to balance out my headspace...

7:25pm: Why is the money never enough?
The paycheque for this first months work has finally come through. I've spent the last six weeks thinking "Yay! Income! It's gonna be great. I'm gonna buy this, and this, and this, and I'll still have enough left over to stick in my battered ISA"

The paycheque comes in, and it's a bit of an anticlimax. In the weird world of contracting, I am both an employee and my own employer, with the result that I have to pay twice as much National Insurance, on top of income tax. Net result: 40% arse-raping.

Now don't get me wrong. It's still five months' rent. But "very good" is still an anti-climax when you're expecting "amazing".

And it got me thinking. Even with the silly money I am earning, I still look at it and think about budgeting. I can still never relax. I can still never just buy things for the joy of it. A paycheque more than most people's savings, and I'm still dividing and allocating and forecasting and prioritising.

My mattress is fucked. My back has been ropey for months. I *need* a new mattress. But despite the fact that this is but two days' pay, I will still shop, and compare, and dither, and evaluate for at least a month before making a purchase. And there's a bed shop literally two minutes walk from my flat!

Similarly with my bicycle. The thing I am riding was meant to be a temporary solution when my last bike died. I get through a lot of miles in a week, and am well within my rights to shell out for a properly good bike. But until the current one becomes un-ridable, I probably won't.

And the strange thing is, there is nothing else I need. My hi-fi could do with an upgrade, I could always use more hats, and I have a constant background hum of desire for new computer kit even when (like now) I blatantly have no need, but fundamentally I want for nothing.

Which may sound great, but this level of stability makes for a very dull existence. Everyone strives for a life in which all their needs are met, and all their problems are solved. I have no problems; I have no unmet needs; and yet I am miserable.

I am living the perfect life, and I'm not sure I like it.

10:55pm: Work blog : 2½ weeks
It's about time for a work blog.

I was recently re-reading previous blog posts from April this year (yes, I am so vain I will read my own blogs for pleasure - I guess it's like liking the sound of your own voice). I read a post I had written after much the same time at my last post, and I could see the crushing misery was already setting in.

On this occasion, while there are common themes (the popping of rhodeola pills to stay awake, the crashing and burning and napping in the toilets after lunch break) this does seem a world apart. The environment is open, the people are chatty (some are even pretty), and I know that my actions make a difference. In fact, my mere words make a difference.

One thing is odd. I thought I was being employed as a web programmer - someone who builds things. In fact, I am really a web consultant. The company is commissioning a big shiny website, and they need someone on their team to make sure they're not getting screwed - someone who speaks fluent techno babble. I find myself enmeshed in the procurement process, and I know I'll be enmeshed in the evaluation of suppliers. I am dangerously close to being a project manager. In fact, strike that. I *am* the assistant project manager.

I have done some coding. My favourite kind in fact. A small web gadget that will make a big difference. It had been started by my predecessor, who they thought was the bees knees. I looked at it, scrapped it, rebuilt it from scratch and showed them all what the knees of a bee really look like.

This contract lasts six months, and part of it is to recruit a team to replace me. What's really weird is there was one point - in a meeting no less - when I didn't want to be replaced. I wondered if I might have found a career path. There are very realistic possibilities for affecting changes in the real world, that affect real people, and actually make the world a better place in a way that's tangible on a macroscopic scale.

You see, I work for the local (Hampshire) branch of the NHS, and my department is responsible for the IT systems. The NHS is woefully understaffed and woefully overworked. These are things that cunning use of IT can solve. Not just help, or ease, but solve. One person with a vision could quite plausibly roll out a system across Hampshire that would radically improve the lot of doctors, nurses and patients in every NHS outfit under the jurisdiction.

Even I, a mere contractor, am in a position to make an impact that could be felt by real people.

I find myself in danger of becoming optimistic.

9:53pm: Of gods and cunts
So I've just finished reading "The Cleft" by Doris Lessing, and it's just left me feeling angry.

Now don't get me wrong. The whole point of reading books, or indeed of doing anything that isn't compulsory, is to make you experience an emotion, or to make you think, or to otherwise cause you to look at the world differently, even if only slightly. Anything else is just killing time.

So why am I annoyed? I shall tell you. But first, some spoilers.

The book reads like an ancient myth, recounted by a roman historian who doesn't have all the facts. It is the story of how, in the beginning, there were no men. Women existed and gave birth spontaneously to other women. Life was idyllic, if idle. Nothing changed, because nothing needed changing.

Then men started being born, and from then on everything was *fucked*. The men made the women miserable. The women made the men miserable. What once was happy and idyllic became a source of constant issues.

The reason this made me angry was because it rang true. The existence of men makes everything worse.

I admit that the constant, obsessive drive for supremacy that is distinctly male is what has driven humans from beast to the moderate approximation of civilisation we currently enjoy. This drive for progress, for exploration, for learning and self-improvement is something I am a big fan of; but I find myself wondering whether this same distinctly masculine drive is not the single source of every last wrong of this world and this life.

This desire, this need, this craving to prove oneself, to yourself and to your peers...

I know only too well that I won't do a damn thing unless I need to, and that I am at my best when I am trying to prove myself. I may be trying to impress a pretty girl, or I may be trying to overshadow a male competitor. I despise competitiveness, but I have to acknowledge that it brings out the best in me.

But for every man like me, who uses this innate drive to make themselves better, there are ten or more who destroy. They don't have the capacity to make themselves better, so instead they make everything else worse. The net result is, after all, in some measure the same.

Which brings me back to where I came in. The Doris Lessing book seems to suggest, and I can't help but agree, that a world only of women would be a static but essentially pleasant place; but as soon as you introduce the male element you introduce chaos.

Change is good. Change without thought is chaos, and chaos is bad.

Women without men represent stasis. Life would go on unchanging forever. Men without women represent chaos. They would destroy themselves (and everything around them) in a generation.

Obviously some sort of balance between these two forces is the ideal. Unfortunately, chaos is by far the stronger force, and by far the easiest to succumb to. It is easier to destroy than to create. It is also true that men are, physically, the stronger and more aggressive sex. This results in a massive imbalance.

If women were stronger, or men were a force of order, everything would balance out nicely. As it is, everything is fucked, and fucked on such a fundamental level that it just feels profoundly wrong.

This kind of grotesque imbalance cannot happen in nature. And thus I find myself concluding:

There *is* a god, and he is a *cunt*.

12:41am: Of gin and mediocrity
Today, because it was on special offer, I bought myself a bottle of Gordons gin whereas normally I go for Plymouth, or Tanqueray, or occasionally Bombay Sapphire. The difference is very apparent, and it got me reflecting upon mediocrity.

Gordons gin is not shit. It's just unchallenging. I make a G&T using it, and it tastes of G&T, but it has no umph. If you get home after a hard day [insert hard day's activity here] and are dying for a G&T, a Gordons and T just doesn't hit the mark.

You might think this was because it is slightly less strong than the others, at 37.5%, rather than the normal 40% (or more for Plymouth and Tanqueray). I'm not sure that's it. I'm currently drinking a Gordons & T which is roughly 33% gin, and it still doesn't have the kick I'd expect from a Tanqueray & T made with half that amount of gin. I recently bought some "navy strength" Plymouth which kinda verified this theory. Despite being something like 57%, it had the same strength of character as normal Plymouth.

Yet Gordon's is the number one brand, and I find myself concluding that it is this very lack of character that makes it so popular.

In any field of endeavour, the most popular option will always be the safe option. This is particularly clear in music, where the best selling artists are not the mega-famous pop stars like Britney and Beonce but the safe, unchallenging options such as Dido and Snow Patrol. Note how the Red Hot Chilli Peppers became massive as soon as they became safe.

Humans are herd creatures. They like to be part of a crowd. They like to feel they are part of something bigger. (This helps explain why religion still flourishes) They do not like to stand out. If you stand out, you might get eaten by lions. If you think for yourself, you might get it wrong. As a survival strategy it is hard to fault.

But we're not herd animals any more. We're people. We're supposed to be above such things. We're meant to be rational.

We should be capable of choosing quality over safety.

2:02am: Poem of the Day : "name-caller"
If I was running the OED's word-of-the-day I would consider "name-caller" pushing my luck at best. But I'm not, and so this is what I've been given.

Name-caller. You know this. One who calls people names. A person who insults other people. Also, a person who assigns names to things.


I was challenged to a duel with the local name-caller
A vocal brawler, olympic word mawler
With rhyme and wit I defended my valour
My lyrical kabbalah to his hip-hop valhalla

Opinion steamroller vs mental pot-holer
Word-play fast-bowler v. literate high-roller
But we were merely prizes in society's tombola
I was dolcalatte to his gorgonzola

10:36pm: Poem of the Day : "owling"
Owling : the hooting of an owl, or the imitation of that sound. Also the act of observing owls.

Bizarrely, it also means wool/sheep smuggling. English is weird...


Even the twitters look down upon owling
In a world of nerds it's the nerdiest calling
Their jibes are barbed, their sarcasm howling
From expected comrades their derision's appalling
But the owlers stay bright in the face of the scowling
For they know in their hearts that owls are enthralling

10:29pm: Poem of the Day : "brack"
Hmmm, these were meant to be daily. I'd hoped to get through more than three before slacking off. Time for some catching up...

Brack : tricky one this. It's kinda like "break" as in a break, a fracture, a fault. But it's also the results of a break, like a shard or a fragment.

Here be the poem :
[DISCLAIMER : the views expressed in this poem are NOT the views of the author]

Cleft in twain by thunderous axe
A mountain reduced to pebbles and bracks
Wrath revealed in lightning's cracks
For sinful toleration of gays and blacks
Divine retribution for the morally lax
The carnage of innocents a justified tax

6:18pm: Poem of the Day : "nankeen"
Today's word is "nankeen" - a kind of pale yellow cloth originally hailing from the Chinese city of Nanking


In panties of silk, and a dress made of nankeen
She'll try any trick if it might keep her man keen
It's years since a passion like tri-nitro tolluene
Faded to a numbness like an OD of codiene

Like all girls she thought that this love would be evergreen
But he quickly passed over her for the thrills of a magazine
Mindlessly ogling the 50 inch plasma screen
While she cried for the memory of when she was eighteen

--

In other news, for yesterday's International Talk Like a Pirate Day, I wrote this:
The Pirate Poem

1:13pm: Dream girl
Last night I fell in love.

From the moment we met it felt like I'd known her forever. There was instant connection, instant rapport. Within moments we were in each others arms, but not in a "tearing off clothes" way. Rather it just felt right. It felt like that was how it should be.

Trouble is, all this happened while I was asleep and dreaming.

So now, upon waking, I find myself in the bizarre position of missing someone who never existed.

[sigh]. Back to the nuthouse for me...

2:48pm: Poem of the Day : "pestiferous"
"Pestiferous"!?!? Now that's what I call a word of the day! It's an adjective, and means something along the lines of "the quality of being a pest". That's "pest" in the sense of a nuisance, or in the sense of vermin, or in the sense of disease (i.e. pestilence).

I know that geekiness on this level makes even role-playing look like the height of chic, but I get proper excited by the subtleties made possible by the insanely vast vocabulary of the English language.

Anyway... today's poem :


It began as an itch, it was merely pestiferous
A nasty looking rash, at worst it was indecorous
But as it got worse, the pain verged on vociferous
And I had to concede I might have caught something dangerous

And now I'm reflecting on a life far from valorous
I craved notoriety, to be considered nefarious
The bohemian hedonism that I thought so adventurous
Has proved to more than a bit deleterious

11:04pm: Poem of the Day : "adoption"
My latest (no doubt doomed to futility) effort to kick-start my brain is to sign up for Word of the Day emails, and then write a poem for every word that comes through.

Today's word is "adoption".

When I was born I was put up for adoption
'Cos my parents hated me more than contraception
It seems that a condom was never an option
For fear of the rubber they incurred my conception

1:21pm: A crash in the motivation market
There is a difference between intellectual motivation and emotional motivation.

Emotional motivation compels you to do things regardless of whether or not they are a good idea. Emotional motivation will push you into the jaws of hell for the sake of a possible shag. Emotional motivation will compel you to go places and do things that are massively against your interests because just maybe, possibly, that girl you once spoke to might be there.

Intellectual motivation tells you what is actually a good idea, as opposed to what your hormones and libido tells you to do. Unfortunately, the intellectual motivation is the weaker.

And thus we find ourselves in the scenario where we find it hard to motivate ourselves to do the things that we know we need to do. We need to tidy our rooms, pay our taxes, run those errands, etc etc.

I am not an emotional man. I only have intellectual motivation. On the rare occasion that emotional motivation becomes dominant, it scares the crap out of me. There are pros and cons to this state of affairs.

The big pro is that I never do anything I regret. Every decision I make I stand behind. I have many regrets, but they are all down to lack of courage born of lack of information.

The big con is perhaps more profound. Right here, right now, I am free. I do nothing I do not choose to do. The problem with that is that there is nothing that it is in my interests to do. My life is so safe, so stable, that I hve no emotional motivation to do anything. I have no fear. I have no obsession. I have no lust, no love, no drive, no passion. I have no need.

So today I set my alarm for 10:30, and spent 2 hours hitting snooze because I had no reason to be awake. My snooze dreams where far more interesting than anything the waking day had to offer. I've been up for an hour, and I'm seriously contemplating going back to bed.

Luckily, I have a role-playing game to write for this evening. I have an errand and a deadline. Once again, role-playing has come to my rescue.

RPG FTW

11:49am: Of credit crunches and fuel price hikes
This whole credit crunch thing has pretty much passed me by. It's really only an issue for people in debt. I'm kinda concerned that everyone seems to think it's a massive problem that getting into debt is now more difficult. That's capitalism for you I guess. I'm no socialist, but I would never claim that capitalism as it stands is an ideal system.

What has stung me rather is the hike in gas prices.

For the last 12 months I've been paying (by direct debit) precisely £5/month and - but for a glitch in July when I spent the whole month cooking fake blood - I have consistently been paying too much.

This weekend I got a letter from British gas saying my direct debit payments are going to be increased from £5 to £18 per month.

That more than tripled. A 250% increase. From £36/year to £216/year.

I'm gonna phone them and whinge, but suspect their response will be "Bend over and take it, bitch!"