Son of Wino; The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

I occasionally look back on my own life as my own biopic film; for every notable moment I've ever lived, there's always a song for that point in time, and a lasting memory attached. There was the song that was playing during my first kiss (Sommerset; Streets don't Close); the song that brought my first real Girlfriend and I together (Quindon Tarver; Everyone's Free [to wear sunscreen]); the song playing as I alcoholically cleansed my insides into a toilet at a party one random time (30 Seconds to Mars; From Yesterday); or the song that made me quit a job where it felt like my co-workers were family (Unwritten Law; Harmonic). Some tracks bring fond memories, others not so. Some moments linked by the lyrical content, others just merely songs playing at the time. Some songs remind me of people. Others remind me of places. All up, there are hundreds of tracks that make up my official movie soundtrack.

But there is one song linking to a moment that remains the most poignant in my life.

Flash back about six years ago, to around the time I started this blog. Spotify was the new thing in music streaming, and I had a bit of a playlist running as I sorted through the physical remnants of my life. Three days prior, my then partner of eight years had walked out the door, and left me with the flat, a fridge and outstanding bills. The house was almost empty. So was I.
As I sifted through personal belongings dumped on the floor and love letters set to be burned, Strung Out's seminal track Matchbook, off their 1999 album "Twisted by Design" opened with its familiar four chords. The timing could not have been more perfect.
Jason Cruz opens up with his lyrics:

"I can see it in your eyes, I can hear it in your voice. The signs are obvious that all we had has run it's course"

At that point, never had an existing piece of songwriting directly relate to my own life as it had at that moment. It truly summed up the end of that relationship.
Through the chorus and on to second verse:

"Now I'm sorry I can never really say the things going on inside my head"

 It was true. I kept my emotions to myself, a trait that still frustrates people to this day. My ability not too convey feelings definitely played a part in my new-found singledom.

"Don't look back in anger, it's just a memory"

Exactly the point I was trying to make with myself. Exactly the point I was trying to tell the world and my friends - many of whom did not see eye to eye with her - despite the mess I'd become.

"It's easy to forget your face and it's easy to survive in this place without you. Without you... Don't think about nothing, I might never be alright."

 Denial. Uncertainty. The things that run through your head when you face self-dependency after years of partnership. The scars left behind. Never knowing how you will go on.
The song concludes:

"Well I've got my friends, I've got my pen, I've a million distractions to keep me warm, and all I know is that I'll be alright"

After some time, I was eventually alright. I had plenty of hours of overtime to keep me distracted, yet rectify my increased financial burden. I got through it alright.

Despite the memories attached to the song, it'd be easy to assume Matchbook as a song I'd dislike, but that is notmost the case. It remains one of my favourites from the entire Strung Out back catalog. And today, serves as a poignant reminder of what happens when a relationship ends. But above all, is just a great song.

"I'll be alright"

"If only you could see me now" ...actually, it's better you didnt

After I finally lost my Dad to cancer in 2013, it was suggested that I should listen to Irish band The Script's "If only you could see me now", to help me come to terms with my loss. I usually won't go out of my way to listen to pop music, so it's a given that I didn't get 'round to listening to it, having only heard bits of it on the radio.
A quick look at Wikipedia confirms that the song itself was written as emotional tribute to lead singer Danny O'Donoghue's late father - and guitarist Mark Sheehan's parents. As a tribute, I don't think you could achieve much better for a band; the departed parents of the aforementioned members probably have every reason to be proud too.

Where does this fit with me?
Every now and then, I'm reminded by someone that "your Mum would be so proud of you", or "your Dad would have been stoked!". I get no solace out of being told something that I clearly know as a known-unknown (if you've ever done the Landmark Forum, you'll know what I'm on about).
Having been subjected to the song in question in its entirety today, hearing the chorus repeating "if only you could see me now" over and over and over reinforced the fact that it's a good thing they can't. Who would honestly want to see their kid depressed, wearing a fake smile everyday, working a mundane job, unhappy, living paycheck to paycheck and achieving nowhere near their full potential?

For several years in my early 20's, I chose not to talk to my parents. They had done no wrong, nor had I wronged them; I essentially did the job of disowning myself from them, because I believed that I was not living up to their expectations of me. I was ashamed of who I was (I still am), and it was best that they don't see it. It was only in their last years that they got to see me, and not being the best of situations for them, real emotion was able to mask the personal demons I was battling.

It's said that a parent's love is unconditional. Not being a parent, I can't answer that, and sadly, I have known plenty of parents to disown their own offspring as if they had never raised them. As they are not around, I'll never know what they would think, and to me right now.... well that's a good thing.

Next time I hear that song, I'll be running as far away from the speaker as I can.

(Sorry for such a depressing post, today was not a good day.)

The mop has gone...

In the time since I last had a haircut, my brother has managed to have got himself married, and now has two kids. Think about that for a moment...

For those who have got no idea how long ago that was, I'll have you know that was two years, one month. That's a long time. So last week, in a bolt out of the blue, I decided to have it all off. And have vowed never to let my 'fro get that crazy ever again.

Until nek minit, stay classy blogosphere...(I know I am!)

Sleep Deprivation and the Functioning Human Being

"Although we look awake, inside we're all still sleeping"
-Rise Against, Under the Knife (The Sufferer and the Witness, 2006)


Spring time; there's a lot to love about this time of year. New lambs, daffodils and the joy of knowing that Summer is just around the bend. On the flipside however, there are things not to love. Things like hay fever, or the end of the ski season. Then there is the start of Daylight Savings...
Who would've guessed that one hour removed from an otherwise 168 hour long week could screw with us to such an extent.

Daylight Savings aside, every day is another chapter in the ongoing war that is the relationship with my alarm clock. Every time I hit the snooze button, it's a mortar shell aimed for reality's awful 4:30am song. Five minutes later, fire is returned. After 20 minutes, the white flag is waved as I drag my sleep loving self from the horizontal position to face another day.
Once you factor Daylight Savings into the equation, suddenly the battle becomes an even harder fought affair. After two arduous awakenings this week, it was the alarm that finally won this morning.
By the time I realized I should have been at work, or at least arriving through the gate, it was 5:55am.
After breaking the world record for dressing myself and a 30 second long panic phone call later, I was on my way...
Once at work, my day wasn't getting much better. The workload was surprisingly heavy for a Wednesday, and I was only 40% awake. Consuming three bottles of Red Bull within your first 90 minutes of consciousness (to no effect) is a fair indication that your day isn't going to get better anytime soon.

    "Consuming three bottles of  Red Bull within your first 90 minutes of consciousness is a fair indication that your day isn't going to get better anytime soon"  

One of the fantastic elements of Daylight Savings (yes, that's an oxymoron) is that the first few days after the forward shift generally pass you by in a flash - when you are busy. Within the hour proceeding the polishing off of my final bottle of Red Bull, things had petered off. When not a lot is happening in my line of work, it's all too easy to look at the clock. It's an unscientific fact that days are longer when you are looking at the clock every two minutes. It's also a notable point that two minutes is the equivalent of 15 minutes in that scenario.
The worst thing about being in my sleep deprived situation is that it is always the worst when nothing much else is happening, and today was one of those day. Or I was too tired remember. Either way it was torture...

Amazingly, I managed to survive a 60 (eight) hour long epic.
Even more amazingly, I have managed to write this blog post.
Bedtime now methinks...

A picture paints a thousand words...

If I had spikes like that, I'd be letting everyone touch them as well...

December...

Ask anyone, young or old what their favourite month is, and I guarantee they will say December. For me, it is most definitely not; There are several reasons why, both historical and perpetual that will always make me want to disappear into hibernation for the month at the years end.

Obviously there is Christmas, and all the hoopla that surrounds the 25th of December each year. I don't have an issue with Christmas itself; the idea of spending time with family, friends and loved ones sounds like bliss to me. But that is generally just the one day of it. It's the materialism and selfishness that comes in the weeks that precede that kills the season for me. I honestly think that to some people, the true meaning of Christmas disappeared a long time ago.
Having a smaller family than I did four years ago means there are some elements of the season that I miss. Every second year or so, I would celebrate Christmas with Mum, while other years were spent with Dad. Now that they have both passed on, Christmas seems just a little bit emptier for me.

If Christmas wasn't enough, it just so happens that my birthday falls seven days before Christmas. As a child, it was definitely a reason to look forward to the end of the year. Today, the season serves as another reminder that 30 is not far away, and I still haven't worked out what I want to do with my life.  Quarter life crisis dwells on me almost weekly. The 18th of December makes it all the more depressing...

Work and other ventures are at their craziest at this time of year. This is sometimes a good thing, as it keeps my mind occupied for bursts of time. But it also has it's dark side. Nine hour plus days are normal, and then going home and working for another couple of hours at home afterwards murders my already screwed sleep patterns. Dangerously, I often notice long afterwards that I have often gone a day without eating during the season. Having had the ordeal of an eating disorder in the past, doing this puts me dangerously close to relapse. During the recovery, I always had someone to remind me when to stop and eat. Currently, I don't have a support person to help, and admitting to some people that you have been Anorexic is one of the hardest things you can do. It's also a fact that once you've had an eating disorder, hunger is feeling that you may go days without experiencing.

Although I never received combined Birthday/Christmas presents as a child, life in general has handed me some of the worst gifts of all in my adult life; Both my parents were diagnosed with Cancer in December. I experienced my first relationship heartbreak two weeks before my 18th Birthday. I've lost close friends during the 12th month. Sure, there are probably months were more bad things can be attributed to, but I always remember the ones that fall on December.

So December is not, nor will it never be one of the fondest months for me. But beyond the darkness that comes from those 30 days comes a new year, new opportunities and another 11 months before it returns again...
So to butcher the lyrics of a well known song, "Wake me up when December ends"

Earlier this year...

...I was heading somewhere in the car when on the radio, Jurassic 5's "what's golden" came on. Upon hearing the opening bass thump, I loudly exclaimed "Oooh, I like this song" My girlfriend replied "but it's hip hop?" I laughed I guess my reputation for listening to predominantly punk closes people off to the notion that I like other forms of music too. I have no idea what made me remember this moment just now, but it still brings a smile to my face...