The Early Morning Reality of Dreams

Some of you may already know and some of you will fall off your seats when I tell you what I'm about to tell you. I think I've actually covered just about all of my readers in one sentence - not sure if that's good or bad. Anyway I've got a job ("Blog Readers Get Back on Seats After Nasty Shock") and I've been working away for about a week and a half now. One of the wonders of this job is that I've got 6am starts - note the sarcasm for future reference. If the truth is to be told, I've only had one of those shifts but I have had two other 6.30am starts - you're splitting hairs if you think there's a difference. My inaugural 6am start was in fact this very morning when I was up and about at about 5am with it still being dark outside and with the BBC World Service playing on BBC1. If I'm honest, I don't actually mind the early starts that much but something happened this morning/last night which annoyingly affected this morning's preparations.

We've all had dreams that, when we wake up, seem like they were as real as your first fart - or so I'm told anyway. Up until I started working, I didn't really dream all that much but in the last week a combination of early mornings and hard work has meant that I've slept like a log and I've had a dream just about every night since. Last night was no different but with me having to get up effectively half way through the night for work, this dream really did seem like it was real (basically because I was still half asleep in the shower and on route to work). But reality soon hit.

There are few things in life that are worse than having such a vivid dream only to realise that that was all it was. Reality bit hard this morning a few minutes from work with the promise of milk and frozen food replacing what was otherwise quite a pleasant existence - in my dream that is. I'll tell you about it eventually, I'm just delaying at the moment because I don't know how to describe it!

Right here it goes. It was a fairly standard dream: there were a lot of people that I know and I was there - the usual stuff. I'm sure that everyone important was there in some form but don't hate me if you weren't; my sub-conscious probably just doesn't like you. The reason why this dream hit me so hard was that someone was there (of the female variety) for whom I used to hold a lot of feelings. I've written about her in the past on Ramblings of a Teenager and I thought that was where she was to remain: in the past. Apparently not and so I woke up this morning convinced that everything in the dream (all clean, I promise) had actually happened and subsequently those feelings returned, albeit until I was putting ice-cream in the freezers.

I could approach this from a few different angles, each of which results in a different destination. Initially I thought that this might be a relapse but I've not spoken to her for about 3 years and I've seen her almost as little in that time - relapse is quickly ruled out thankfully. I could also look at it from the point of view that I might like to get in contact with her again but that's irrational - I'm learning! I should then` probably consider why I was dreaming about her at all because I've not thought about her in a long time and haven't even come across a 'story' on Facebook about her that would have really made me stop to think. The last, and most probable, reason for the dream deserves its own paragraph.

Those of you that have been reading Ramblings in the last couple of weeks like drug addicts looking for their next fix will know that I've been reading (and writing about) some hefty stuff recently - namely philosophy. I was actually at a lecture/interview with Alain de Botton at the weekend with my Dad at the Edinburgh International Book Festival but that's a post for another day. If you haven't been reading (why not!) then things went pretty deep last week - or at least as deep as I go.

Oh ye, that paragraph I was talking about - apologies for the important, yet lengthy, digression. My interpretation of the dream (hence the digression) and the way it got to me this morning is that I miss having a someone to pine after. The poem that I wrote about in 'A Look at Love' (which gets a lot more airtime that it really should) had a last line that says. "...is it love or teenage lust?". That very poem was written about my 'relationship' with the girl from last night's dream and the very reason why I wrote it was because it was just teenage lust - nice rhetorical question eh? The real question is this though: what would I not give for a little bit of that back?

It's funny how a little dream (which had many other elements to it by the way) can have such as effect on your head, especially on someone who considers himself half-decent at being stoical. I'm not going to let it get to me and I'll trot off to work tomorrow morning (slightly later start thankfully) thinking about something else. Having said that, it doesn't mean that I wouldn't mind dreaming about her again tonight.

Thanks for reading,

Martin

How to Take Inspiration From the Olympics

Last night's post is the last time I think I'll get 'deep' for a while. As much as I've enjoyed writing the last few posts, I feel that the style of them isn't really what most people want of an evening. With that in mind I set out on a quest of lightheartedness and jocularity and I hope you'll come along for the ride - that sounded like something from Disneyland; this isn't Disneyland.

It seems apt that I'm sitting down to write this post. I should say that I sit down to write all of my posts, just in case you had any images of me on my feet - sorry if that ruins your dreams. Anyway I'm very much in a sitting down position as I prepare, in my own inimitable way, to explain how to take inspiration from the Olympics. We've been told every day this week about the 'legacy' that the 2012 Games will have in Britain and how it's going to encourage people to get up and take part in sport. How does that legacy apply to the regular Joe though and how do we derive the necessary inspiration from Bolt and Co?

Confidence: A State of Mind or Just Who You Are?

Everyday life is full of 'fine lines'. There is a fine line between something being funny and something being offensive. There is a fine line between dressing well and dressing badly. There is a fine line between your food tasting lovely and it being just OK. Then there is another line that I've seen many people cross (or even dance over) in my time: that is the line between confidence and over-confidence. We've all seen it and we all know people that frequent the wrong side of it on a regular basis. As a continuation of the theme of this week's writing (slightly philosophical for those that didn't notice a pattern!), I'm going to suggest that there is another one of those lines to do with confidence. It's one that takes conscious thought to create but nevertheless one that I think we're all capable of conjuring up when we need to, whether that be a good thing or a bad one. That line is the one between having confidence and having none.

A Basic Lack of Understanding - Another Comment on Relationships

If someone was to ask me (which they undoubtedly will in light of this post) why I have been writing about relationships in my blog recently more than anything else then I'm not sure what I would say. I'm not authority on the subject but I am fascinated by it as can be seen from yesterday's post and one of the first posts of ROATSomething, 'A Look at Love'. In writing those two pieces (whether they make sense or not) I have opened the proverbial can of worms and, as previously predicted by yours truly, many more words are there to be written. Think of what I write about this topic as me thinking out loud in a noisy room full of more learned and experienced people than myself; you might want to occasionally listen or even engage but a lot of it will be me rambling - again the title of this blog pays for itself. Today's comment comes from a shortcoming of my own which I have elaborated on in my head and turned into something of an argument. Some will like it but most won't - at least not the guys anyway.

A Truth About Love and Relationships

You know that feeling when you read something and you think 'yes, I couldn't agree more with that'? I read quite a lot of stuff, both fiction and non-fiction, and only occasionally do I come across a sentence, a passage or a chapter that says something more to me than what is actually written on the page. This happened to me when I was reading a sample of a Kindle book last week. I'm going to one of the Edinburgh International Book Festival events next weekend with my Dad; the event being an interview with Alain De Botton who is a writer and philosopher from Switzerland. It wasn't something we originally looked at going to (everything we did was sold out by the time my 'place in the queue' eventually got to the front) but the tickets fell to us from a family member who can no longer make it - funny how some of the best things 'fall' to you.

A Hopeful Return to the Basics

So with the finish line of the Olympics 2012 before us, it's about time that I found myself back on the blogging boat again. I've spent a lot of words on this blog in the past saying just how much I enjoy writing and, in particular, how much I enjoy writing my blog. That being said, I've actually enjoyed a brief hiatus from Ramblings of a Twenty-Something for one reason or another. 

First and foremost I've really enjoyed the last 2 weeks of sport on the TV and that is what I've been spending most of my time doing. Secondly (and I'm not sure why this is the case) I've enjoyed not having to thing about topics to write about - a break from the pressure that I put on myself to come up with good content. And that last note is third and final reason why I don't feel that guilty having not written for a while: I don't feel like I've written well for a long time. Looking back at my last 5 posts, there have only been a couple that I've come away with that satisfied feeling of having written what I what I wanted to. For those of you that click on my posts whatever the weather, you might have noticed this as well and for that I apologise. You might remember that I wrote about wanting to boost my readership through writing in quantity and with quality but neither of those things have come to fruition - time to pick things up I guess.

The Real Spine-Tingling Sensation

The sheer volume of things that I could have written about in this last week is almost as big as the Chinese medal haul at the half way point in the Olympics. The thing is that I've spent all of the last 9 days watching sport on TV therefore I've found very little time for anything else. The greatest irony of the Olympics so far for me in fact has been that I feel inspired to go out and run and cycle, yet I've been sitting down for about 90% of the last week. I've missed nothing though and there is plenty of time for inspiration to carry me outside when the Olympics come to a sorry close next week.

As I said, there has been a lot for me to write about this week, with last night's excellence in the Olympic Stadium in London being the pinnacle of an awesome week of sport. I watched every heat and final in the swimming, I've not missed a single important rowing race, I've lapped up the cycling and I've enjoyed learning about so many sports that I knew little (or nothing) about this time last week. Veined through all of that has been something that I've heard people talk about but never actually felt myself - in fact I thought that it was just a turn of phrase. Everyone has claimed to felt tingles in their spine at some point in their life and I can now state that well over 10 events this week have done that to me. Whether it be the outburst of emotion from a British athlete or the national anthem, I've never witnessed so many moments that I've felt such pride, awe, inspiration etc.

Yes, that's right, I said that hearing the national anthem sent shivers down my spine - I wasn't just going to wash over that point. I've said it in a couple of Facebook statuses: I've felt very British this year and never more than that during these Olympics. I won't get into Scottish independence discussion here but if it does come to fruition then we'll lose those moments because they won't be ours anymore. Scottish athletes have done well (Andy Murray you beauty!) but last night Jessica Ennis, Greg Rutherford and Mo Farah did something beautiful for the whole of Great Britain, not just Scotland.

Other highlights? Well watching Michael Phelps this week in his final Olympics has been truly awesome - it always is - and the whole swimming competition has been really exciting. I've really enjoyed watching the Brits compete in the Judo - pure emotion flowing from them all. The stories coming out of the rowing have really caught my attention and have produced some great TV moments - I think that was where my first 'spine-tingler' came from. The last one that I will mention (because I could write a book on the last week) is the action from the velodrome. Watching Team GB win and break a world-record pretty much every time they got on the track in the first few days has been fantastic and that, mixed with Bradley Wiggins' success during the week, has made me think about dusting down the old bike in the coming days - or at least when the Olympics is over!

Thanks for reading and I hope to comment on the Olympics some more in the coming days when I find a gap in the coverage - it'll be hard but I'll try my best.

Marti