Do what you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life – apart from on weekdays

Do what you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.

This statement, like all things happy-go-lucky and optimistic, annoys me to no end. It sounds all well and good, until you realise the job market is becoming increasingly slim and competitive that you’ll probably have to get a job in a coffee shop, or temping in an office whilst you do what you love on the side. Which makes for more of a cumbersome statement.

I love hiding in wardrobes. No one is willing to pay me to do that, and my rent is extortionate. The idea of everyone doing what they love is not feasible. The economy would plummet. The world’s population would be made up of musicians, painters, writers and people hiding in wardrobes. If we’re going to adopt this view, we’d best hope that a lot of people love the idea of working in Tesco, otherwise we’ll never get our groceries.

Perhaps, I am taking the statement far too literally – I do operate at that end of the spectrum where I take most things at face value. Maybe what is meant is – whatever you are doing, do your best to try and love it. Focus on the plus points, on the bonuses and the people, even if you hate them. That sounds good doesn’t it? So if you work in sewage treatment, you could focus on the knowledge that you’ll get a lot of money and the job market in your chosen field will never get too competitive. Or my personal favourite perk of that job: you can get a certain level of satisfaction knowing that you literally have to wade through and sort out everyone’s faecal matter rather than just metaphorically. It makes for a good conversation starter.

Wherever you work and in whatever field, find ways to make it satisfying. Find ways to make it amusing. Find ways to get through the day. I often find not wearing underpants gives me enough of a kick to get me through to lunchtime, but each to their own. It can be anything. There is that old saying ‘only boring people get bored.’ Which ironically, is usually said by incredibly dull individuals, but for the purpose of churning out more words, I will adopt its philosophy. If you find yourself bored in the office, find ways to make it entertaining. A creative type will always find ways to amuse themselves. Insert song lyrics into emails, see how many people notice. See how many coffees you can drink before you collapse in a caffeine induced fit of anxiety and despair. Become the guy who’s memorised the company handbook so you can pedantically quote it at other people to make their day slightly worse. Stand up and loudly declare ‘life is too short for this nonsense and I shall not waste another second!’ then storm out and never come back.

Maybe not. So what then?

In working life there appear to be two things of importance.

  1. A necessity to work to earn enough money not to be hungry.
  2. A personal necessity for self-fulfilment.

The trick is trying to keep the two balanced.

It’s true there are fulfilling things that don’t pay a great deal, just as there are jobs that pay enough to not be hungry, but to many are deeply unfulfilling. We seem to need both in order to live happy lives, I could get into Karl Marx’s alienation theory, but I sat through those lectures myself, and found they were incredibly boring so I shan’t.

Fulfilment may not necessarily come from occupational achievements, or doing a job you like, but from the location in which you live. If you’re not happy with this, change that first… then focus on a satisfying career… although to do so would require money, which in turn requires a job, which would directly influence where you can live. See, it’s all rather complicated. The people that live by this statement are either incredibly lucky, pretentious fuckwits with rich parents; or just find repetitive and menial tasks interesting and therefore consider themselves to be living the dream when analysing data.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I just really hate that quote, and I want everyone to stop using it.

 

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Pictures of Things With Filters

That’s it, I’ve had enough. I try you know, I really do. “Keep writing,” people tell you “You’ll get somewhere eventually.” I try to give you thought provoking, entertaining pieces. I try to talk of profound things, I try to write eloquently with some sort of flair. I try to entertain, inform and other such noble things. I even wrote a good piece on the upcoming EU referendum.

A handful of likes that got.  There’s only so much my ego can take!

So I thought I’d do some research into what people like when it comes to blog posts. I checked some guy’s out, he had a post that had garnered well over 267 likes. That’s a lot right?

It seems the global attention span has become a shrunken and shrivelled thing.  Words are old news. It’s all about a collection of pictures of things isn’t it? But not natural pictures, it’s all about the filters.

So this week I sank to your level. Enjoy my pictures of things with filters.

 

Sad Dying Flowers, Which is a Bit Cliché but There’s a Filter.

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Enter a caption

2) Bane of My Life.

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3) A Woman’s foot.

This one is very artistic. You see, the foot is oft sexualised (don’t know why, they’re the things you walk on so will naturally be the most disgusting), but this one is covered in an old and battered shoe. So it represents a long dead sense of subtlety and modesty. You can also just about see my knees, which means the woman’s foot is higher than mine. This can be seen in two ways 1) the dogmatic patriarchal nature of society (I’ve put my foot down!) or 2) an ode to uber-feminism in that ultimately the woman will stand higher than me, seeing as her foot is higher.

OR I accidentally took a picture without meaning to.

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4) Addiction Will Never Die.

Many charities, health practitioners and the various police forces have done a lot of work to tackle drug crime and drug addiction. My leftist views aside (most drugs should probably be legalised and made available on the NHS), I can’t help but feel the scourge of addiction will never be washed away from this Earth. We humans are too damaged, too scared. We were born with holes in our hearts (metaphorical ones, I’m not talking about genetic conditions). These holes suck in everything and can never be filled. We will pour what we can into it. For me it’s coffee. This is what I see in front of my face most hours of the day. It’s expensive, as a desperate man I have resorted to mugging old ladies just to fund my habit.

When will the government turn their protective and vengeful gaze upon the coffee shops?

 

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5) The Forgotten Spoon.

We are  a wasteful society. An arrogant society, that takes what we want when we want it and when we no longer want it and can’t be bothered to carry it around any more we cast it aside, as if it meant nothing to us.

Cars, clothes, oil, our children… even this poor spoon.

Never again will it fulfil its purpose of scooping.

Once again my egotistical leg couldn’t stop itself from jumping in front of the lens.

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6) Poetry Lives.

Pay at Meter

Display ticket.

Pure poetry right there. I know what the sign maker meant. In many ways we are all paying at the meters of life, feeling the need or some sort of social pressure to display our tickets. Or maybe because we are constantly aware of the 24 hour CCTV watching us that makes us compelled to display them. Which in this instant is clearly meant to be the ever present eye of God.

 

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7) My Lamp Shades Look Like Breasts.

Or I’m just sexually frustrated… which is entirely probable.

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8) Work Poos are the Best Poos.

Notice how doing a Poo at work seems to induce a manic sort of joy within me. It’s the best part of the day. Sometimes I stuff myself with dried fruit and laxatives just so I can prolong the feeling. I hate the outside world so much that I find I gain an inordinate amount of comfort from the enclosed space.

From an artistic point of view, you can say how most of our day to day jobs are no different from this act.

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9) I was once looking beardy in a pub.

 

So I filtered that son of a bitch and now it’s here.

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There! Are you happy? Will this get me the recognition we all know I deserve! I DO! I REALLY FUCKING DO! WHERE’S MY LEGIONS OF FOLLOWERS?

 

The Fuzzy Rambler.

Referendums for Everyone!

Referendums for Everyone.

 

 

I do my very best to avoid reading newspapers. It seems that no matter which one you read, someone somewhere will brand you something you do not wish to be branded. I could be of a strong mentality and hold my head high and say ‘your opinion matters little to me’ but I can’t. However, I occasionally tap on a news app on my phone when I’m doing my morning poo. In doing so I am often confronted with various talks of referendums. I even got a letter through the other day attempting to explain the subtler points of the EU referendum.

Not long ago, my readers from the apparently not so united United Kingdom, will remember there was a Scottish referendum. Where we all waited with baited breath to see if Scotland would erect a giant mast in Edinburgh, unfurl a great sail and break off from the rest of us and sail across the globe to sit with Australia, where they can bond over their mutual dislike of us English. The vote concluded that the majority of Scottish people wanted to remain a part of the UK, before voting en masse for the SNP anyway. They’re an unpredictable people. Whasserface, the Scottish minister lady, whom Google would tell me her name, but that would fly in the face of me keeping out of politics, has said that there could very well be another referendum of Scottish independence. Because apparently the democratic process is only reliable if you get the result you want. She’s adamant that the Scottish people want to be rid of us oppressive Brits so much so that we’re just one more referendum away from being apart forever. Scotland will become an independent state and will fund it’s free education and free prescriptions with the money it earns from exporting whiskey presumably, now that the price of oil has plummeted.

What’s strange, is that the Scottish people on the whole (if we’re going to make broad generalisations – which I have and I am), are very Pro-Europe. Doesn’t want to be part of the United Kingdom, but perfectly happy to be part of the European Union. Don’t get me wrong, I’m Pro EU myself, but it’s the disjointed logic I don’t care for.

That strange toad like, beer swilling aristocrat from a bygone age Nigel Farage has recently stated that if the Stay vote wins by a slender margin, there will be unfinished business “In a 52-48 referendum this would be unfinished business by a long way. If the Remain campaign win two-thirds to one-third that ends it.” Again, seemingly subscribing to the theory that democracy only counts if he gets his way. He claims that there will definitely be a second EU referendum. At this rate we’ll have referendums all over the place, never getting anything done. Referendum after referendum. We’ll be in and out – in and out and shaking it all about. This is the same man that somehow believes leaving the EU will make us safer from all those foreign people that want to kill us.

Now, if you’ve read this far I pity you. This endless waffle is not my forte, I usually just complain about how dull my life is, and then demand people by my book. My view is this. England – nay the entire United Kingdom – is a very small and impotent nation. The ‘Brexit’ (sounds like a breakfast cereal), campaigners if you’ve had the misfortune of talking to any of them, tend to be old posh people. Old posh people who still think we matter, who still think we have an empire. Rule Britannia and all that. We don’t. Sure the commonwealth is still holding on by its bloody stumpy fingers (we have New Zealand I think… and Australia, but most of us in England don’t even realise this), but we are close to nothing on the world stage. If Scotland got its independence, than we’d be even smaller and more pointless, and it wouldn’t be long before the Welsh started getting ideas and before we know it we’d have some Game of Thrones shit going on.

With the EU, we could potentially be something. As we progress, we should be looking to forge a more united globe, not wasting time and money on becoming more divided. We need to be prepared for the alien invasion, of 2034 (on a Tuesday afternoon I think).

Here are the two possibilities should we leave the EU.

  1. Absolutely nothing will change. We shan’t become a superpower, our economy wouldn’t improve and we won’t be safer. We’ll just be the same, only we won’t have the full support of our European neighbours.
  2. Our economy will suffer, our diplomatic relations would suffer and we’d be a lot less secure.

This is absolutely correct, anyone who argues with me is a fool. A foolish fool and I hate them. So, the point of this longwinded, ill thought out piece, is this – vote to stay in the EU. Stop having referendums, they’re just there to distract us from the real important issues: like the fact our planet is dying, wars all over the place – the distinct possibility that Donald Trump could become the next President of America, should that happen we’re all doomed.

Vote stay. Or at the very least make sure you vote. I’m talking to you young people. Young people who think it’s cool and intellectual to not vote because “nothing changes anyway, they don’t do anything or me” and then have the audacity to complain. I hate you. You’re a bunch of narcissistic arrogant cunts and you let the old conservative people win, simply because of your bohemian sense of apathy. Don’t be a Cunt. Vote. And if you do vote, Don’t be a Cunt again – vote stay.

 

Stupid Manhole.

Stupid manhole. It’s always there on the way to work, this irritating little manhole in the middle of a busy road and as I wait for an aeon (whatever one of those are) for the green man to allow me to cross, I have to listen as car after car clatters across this stupid manhole. Each time it emits a sharp noise that startles and enrages me. Clat-clat, it goes. Day in and day out. I hate it. I hate it so much. Not even sure it classes as a manhole, more a sort of square drain, but manhole sounds better.

This annoyance plagued me this week, no matter where I was I couldn’t stop thinking about this manhole. At my desk, tapping away at my keyboard. In meetings, in the shops, in the pub as I stare at my own gaunt reflection in the dregs of my beer. It followed me around, it wouldn’t let me sleep. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, all manners of grey hues creeping about. I lay there, heart pounding, and sweat sticking my neck to my pillow. I felt like some sort of giant slug excreting a coat of slime. Clat-clat… Clat-clat.

Stupid Manhole.

It was when I was staring at it on my way to the bus stop that I realised just why I hated it so much. This manhole represents all the annoyances, the constant irritations, the anger inducing scenarios that we have no control over. I can’t move the manhole, I can’t get the cars to stop running over it, can’t alter the laws of physics to prevent the noise that irks me so. That manhole, that stupid manhole is life.

Then, unbidden a tidal wave of things I hate and cannot seem to change crashed into the side of my brain, which hurt. It represented petty people in positions of authority. It represented those annoying people you see at the customer service counters in shops, shouting at a poor young girl because they bought an iron and it doesn’t work, and no they don’t have the receipt. Before you know it, they’re making casual comparisons between the customer service lady and Nazis.

Stupid manhole.

Represents the slow decline of the planet’s climate, which despite what the Green Party tell us, we are powerless in stopping. I read somewhere that all the recycling we are doing, all the measures we are putting in place to reduce CO2 emissions are primarily combatting pollutants sent up there in the 50s and 60s, so we have some way to go. Not to mention, that no matter how many tons of coke cans we flatten and reuse, how many jam jars we rinse out and put in our little red bins… America and China are still going mental.

Stupid crappy manhole.

That seemingly innocuous bit of infrastructure represents poverty, corruption and world hunger. We can’t do anything about it, we can’t. We’ve been trying for years and made no headway. It represents the endless stream of pointless shitty little wars that humanity seems intent on pursuing, displacing thousands.

It represents Donald Trump (cunt) and Boris Johnson (slightly less of a cunt, but still a cunt). It represents Isis and the ever present threat that some arrogant turd could blow you away in the name of some deity you don’t believe in, because no doubt they’ve been led astray by mad, petty men in positions of authority.

Fucking manhole!

It represents my own irrepressible anxiety and impotent anger. I’ve tried meditation, it’s a load of shit. I’ve tried breathing techniques and I just start hyperventilating. I’ve tried all manner of pseudo-psychological nonsense. I’ve even had counselling, but I was kicked out my last appointment for questioning her choice of career!

Stupid Fucking Poxy Manhole.

It represents our constant grappling with the notion of our own mortality. The rampaging advance of time, which we are powerless to stop. It represents the very idea that we are all rapidly decaying, charging to the point of expiration on a planet that is dying. On a planet we played our part in murdering.

Clat-clat. Clat-clat.

Stupid manhole.