Actually, I read the blog post yesterday. I’m not sure why I’m claiming today, or even why I’ve gone with a Beatles themed title – but it just kept looping around in my head. And well, sometimes I just go with – say what – is rattling around up there. But today is important. Not today, as in the day you read this; but today, as a time frame. For the post hinged on the idea that we should live as though: ‘Today is the only day of your life. Act accordingly.’ I would have normally left it there. Life mottos don’t exactly strike a chord with me. Life mottos – which place the importance on acting as though we have a limited time to
Life Archive
A view from the man behind the mask. But what is he hiding? From those around him. From himself. A blog that offers the chance to open up; to set his thoughts free. A blog that is proving to be more of a pleasure to write than initially thought. That is proving to be an outlet of pleasure, rather than the place to moan, it so easily could have been. But still there are things to hide – to hold back. Not every truth needs to be known. Not every truth will want to be read. Just because it is written down, does not necessarily make it interesting. So the mask stays close to hand. The mask, a mask, remains in place. But the smile
“… And be careful crossing the roads.” It appears an innocent enough comment made from one person to another – but then, this is Rome. A city where pedestrians barely register with the average driver. The green light as seen in the image above is a temptress; a siren of doom. For the green man on Roman traffic lights has a far different meaning to the one back home. Green means cross, but, well, don’t actually assume cars will stop. Green means some cars stop – whilst others, usually those turning off a main road – will carry on going. Carry on – irrespective of whether you are crossing or not. And that’s just the crossings with lights, where you have a 50/50 chance. There
I was reminded of my age on Saturday night. As I stood in a friend’s kitchen, discussing their impending birthday – their thirtieth – I was struck by the explanation they gave as to how they were approaching this turn of a decade: “I’m not that bothered about turning 30, but I will miss no longer being in my twenties.” Their twenties – oh my! It is seven years or so since I was last in my twenties. As decades of an age go, they were effective in moulding my life – but with regards to strong, emotional anchor points, they were more aligned to hedonism than say, clear cut entries in to the big red book of “This is your life”. I was reminded
I’m sat at a table. It is a table big enough to sit six large chairs around. My hair is tidy; if a little long. My eyes are heavy – blue, but bloodshot. My features both puffy and sharp; stubble of two days is scratchy and loud to touch. I sit like a burst couch, slumped midway between chair back and table. I’m wearing worn clothes. Not worn as in draped over, more worn as in fraying. The cuffs on my hoodie are going. The collar on my shirt has gone – the ends of my jeans both grey and tattered. I am a man who clearly does not care for shopping. The room’s lights have been dimmed to the point I’m tempted to turn
Do you ever have one of those days where everything you do appears to come signposted, or at least has a symbol associated with it – a negative portent, if not an enormous neon sign advising you turn back? I’m about to walk in to a meeting where a delegate has been replaced by a more senior member of the workforce. Historically this has meant that something has gone wrong, some bad news is coming our way; I have to find the right words to pass on to others – that can’t include panic, problem or crisis. When managers appear, bad news is never too far behind them. I was also first in a group to get my sandwich at lunch time. The others had