Angel on the Train

I've been meaning to write this post for a while. At the same time, I think I've written this post time and again without knowing it. I'll keep it short because I'm pretty tired. I was on the train earlier coming back from 5s. The train is always busy on a Wednesday and getting on at the first stop after the two major stations invariably means that I have to stand. So there I stood, ankles aching and knees pulsing. Out of the corner of my eye (lies - she was right in front of me) was a beautiful girl - classically beautiful. To give you an idea, she looked like Michelle Monaghan (of 'Heartbreak Kid' with Ben Stiller). Shame she was sitting next to at dork who she appeared to be fond of.

Michelle Monaghan: classically beautiful.

This was the kind of guy who wears lanyards (note the plural) and tight jeans. In terms of his most distinguishing feature, he looked a little bit like I did when I was taking my first tentative steps in puberty: spotty with a bad hair style. OK, so the latter remains a common part of my appearance but this guy looked like he should have been in school uniform rather than skinny jeans and a Ralph Lauren jumper - yes, I'm pretty observant. I think you get the picture that I was feeling jealous for the duration (about 20 minutes) of my train journey with love's young dream. Jealously is a cruel mistress.

The reason why I opened this post by saying that I've been meaning to write this post for a while is not because I've seen this girl before. No, it's because I've often found myself in situations with an 'angel' but never found the need to write about it. To be honest I was looking for a post to write tonight because I've only written law stuff today - this girl (or at least my similar experiences) seemed like a good topic to go for.

We've all done it when we've been on a train or in a coffee shop. It's often good fun to take a few minutes out of your life to wonder what might be before realising that yours is the next stop and it's time to alight back to reality again.

Thanks for reading,

Martin.

Baby, Baby, Baby? No

Until about six months ago I didn't really have to deal with people. Prior to getting a job I didn't ever have to talk to people that I didn't know except at university or, well, in fact that was the only time really. I'm the kind of person that tries to cut down as much as possible on potentially irritating conversations - i.e. small talk. Two examples: I use the ticket machine at the train station instead of getting my ticket on the train and always use the self-serve machines in shops - as irritating as they can be, anything is a step up from someone talking about the weather. Imagine my disgust when I found myself on the other side of the counter talking about how cold it is outside to hundreds of strangers! That's not what I'm here to talk about today though - I'm happy with the way that I talk to people. The topic of today's post is more about a certain type of person that I occasionally serve - the young parent.

The Valentine's Routine

I've started writing this Valentine's Day post two or three times now and each time it just sounds like I'm moaning about being single. The furthest I got into it was a story about a couple I saw the other day saying goodbye to each other. As they went their separate ways, the woman wiped her lips and the man had a spring in his step. However I realised that this observed contrast in post-kiss reactions didn't go so much to the heart of my dislike for Valentine's Day - it went much deeper. The moral of the story (which took up two or three paragraphs so you'll be glad that it's been dropped) I found was this: in a relationship it is often the case that the two people are not on the same page. It's quite sad and results in weeks and months of people's lives being lived under false pretenses. However, that isn't what I wanted to write about so I've cut it short(er) so I can get on with the task in hand.

An Induced Dream and a Face from the Past

With sleep deprivation (eventually) comes a good night's sleep. With a good night's sleep comes some very realistic dreaming. These are not things that I get a lot - that is both a good night's sleep or realistic dreams - but when they do come around they are invariably interesting. Take the one that I had the other night. I'll set the scene a little below in terms of the 'real world' build up to this dream but the gist is that I was in a group of people hiding from something and I was seeking solace in an old friend - an ex to be precise. If that doesn't want to make you put down OK and Hello! and pick up your copy of Freud then I don't know what will!

Cruel Cycle or Nasty Habit?

So I said that I would write tonight and then I looked at the time. It might be early for some people but the way my days go, 11pm is getting close to the time when I stop to function and start to hear voices telling me to go to bed - that might just be me talking to myself again though. I might have taken a little bit of artistic license there though because it's not yet 11 as a start to write this post, so if I get a move on I'll be in bed before I fall asleep on my laptop.

Tonight's post is a bit of a repeat. You know when you look at the TV guide to see what's on, think there's a new series of your favourite programme, only to see the damn little 'R' at the top, ripping your dreams into shreds? Well that's pretty much the gist of this post which is about my constant flips between productivity and stagnation. If you think you have read this post before then I'm sure there's a repeat of Top Gear or Mock the Week on Dave that you've seen 3 times already that you might prefer to see for a 4th rather than read my dross - please stay, I don't have adverts (yet).

One Month Down

I'm running through a forest. I'm running away from something - but I'm not sure what. I keep stumbling over tree stumps and tree branches are lashing me in the face, cutting new cuts and deepening old ones. I know my legs are below me - how else would I be getting anywhere? - but I can't feel them and have to rely on guesswork as to where I'm putting my feet. Something warms breathes down my neck like the heat from the back of a city bus. I recognise the pungent smell but I can't quite place it - I've smelt it before, I know I have. Then I see the end of the forest, the light in the distance slashed by the trees that stand between me and potential freedom. My legs are still going, somehow, and my heart seems to be the only thing in my body that is functioning - how many beats per minute is normal? The edge gets closer yet still seems so far away, the pungent smell and warmth of a thousand ovens still close behind me. Then I burst out of the forest into the daylight. It's raining but I'm sodden from my own sweat and tears so I hardly notice. As I stumble to a stop I turn instinctively to look back into the deep darkness that lays behind me. But nothing is there, just the rustle of the trees in the soft wind and a few broken branches that I left in my wake.

Hazard by name...

If last night's incident at the Liberty Stadium wasn't odd enough to watch, today I find myself agreeing with Pat Nevin - now that is odd. I went to bed thinking about Eden Hazard's alleged kick on the Swansea ball-boy and I was greeted with the same thoughts this morning as I made my customary cycle through the news channels. I'll say at the outset of this post that I'm on Hazard's side. This is mostly down to the fact I'm a Chelsea fan but that's not the only reason - I would probably be on the side of most footballers in this situation. The main reason why I feel very strongly about this is because of the reaction and the type of person that the boy (although at 17 he would have to pay an adult fare on my local bus) portrayed himself as.

Firstly, let me explain why I agree with Nevin. I don't particularly like the guy; in fact, I find him to be a particularly annoying pundit. It should also be noted, for those less aware of football in general, that Nevin is himself of the Chelsea fraternity - maybe take what he says with a pinch of salt. Here's what he said:

 

Yes he's got a slightly annoying, whiny voice but what the basic part of what he said is true. The boy shouldn't have been rolling around on the ground. Hazard did not try and kick the guy (he's all grown up now) who was meant to be doing the simple job of returning the ball the goalkeeper. I heard a football agent's view on this earlier who first of all noted that at 17 you shouldn't be a ball-boy. After all, ball-man sounds just wrong. Secondly, he said that it shouldn't be up to him to make the decision to time-waste in such a game. Granted Chelsea were getting nowhere, but Hazard wanted to keep pushing and, as a Chelsea fan, I can only commend him for that. In fact it might have been a breath of fresh air if the whole team had showed a little bit of fight last night.

I got side-tracked with a dig at my team's poor performance last night but I'll quickly sum up what I'm trying to argue here because I need to get on with something else. Hazard shouldn't have got himself involved - that's a given - but he did and so what happened is a reality. Yes, he should get a 3 game ban for violent conduct; if he'd kicked a Swansea player then I wouldn't expect anything less. However, the ball-boy acted disgracefully and I don't have any qualms about sticking up for Hazard who has received more bad press this morning than David Cameron has since his speech on Europe over a day ago. Pretty impressive for someone who was just trying to do his job - Hazard that is, not Cameron. Also, a note on the ages of the two involved. As I've noted, the ball-boy is 17. Hazard himself is only 22 - only a year or two older than me. It's not like he kicked a 10 year old now is it?

Sorry this post was brief and biased and everything that is wrong about the Internet culture but I've got to get away and I just had to get that off of my finger tips before I exploded!

Thanks for reading,

Martin

I Can't Get No Satisfaction

One of the weirdest parts of my recent essay writing was the prevalent fear of plagiarism. There was this constant guilt that I was writing something that I hadn't come up with but when I read over things again I had given everyone the credit they deserved and the only times I hadn't was when it was a 'commonly known fact'. I found that phrase before I properly started writing to make sure that I was footnoting everything and everyone that I should, while also being very wary of avoiding footnoting everything. 'OH! I've used a full-stop, who was the first person to ever use a full stop?' - you get the picture. Oddly enough, this post is not even about plagiarism but the fact that I used a Rolling Stones lyric as my title got me thinking about it. So I'm going to give them the credit they deserve by putting the song below. It also means that you can listen to it as you read the rest of this ramble!

The End is in Sight

What a difference a week makes. I was sitting on this very chair this time last week worrying about the fact that I only had one essay finished, another getting there and one that wasn't even started. I now sit here with 2 done and one more following not far behind and that's a good feeling. I probably shouldn't be writing this tonight because some of my peers will read this thinking that they've got a little way to go yet - but I have my reasons. Firstly I didn't fancy doing any substantial work on the day of my deadline because I think that would result in an ironic death by stress. I've also got an all day shift on Sunday at work and I couldn't bare the thought of spending all day in a supermarket worrying about my essays while everyone went on with their lives, buying crap they don't need - if anyone asks I didn't say that.

I Think it Might be Christmas

Well this feels odd. I'm not using Times New Roman,  double lines spacing or footnotes. I mean I could but I don't thing that would be much appreciated by a readership who have been starved of my words for so very long. I know you've missed me and I've missed you as well! In my absence, my browser had forgotten my log-in details and, somehow, this blog has now had more than 10,000 views. It's nice to know that it's still alive somewhere on the internet.

Anyway, I've just come off the back of getting to the point in my essay writing mission that I planned to get to before Christmas so I thought I would put down a few, slightly less formal, words for you. If I can't do it now when can I?